Long Citations Poems
Long Citations Poems. Below are the most popular long Citations by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Citations poems by poem length and keyword.
I don't say "hello" to the horse
but yes to the driver ... not that they are
not worthy of consideration but
is that they can't answer ...
And if they answer, I can't understand ...
Maybe I am the "donkey".
of the case ...
I realize I write what I imagine,
i do poetry as long as i can ... so i
do not write only "hallelujah glory" ...
I speak of the human who errs, and that
not usually fixes itself ... unless he
was born "crooked" ....
I consider there is not only one way, but
all roads lead to a destination ...
With poetry, I walk them all,
and I always arrive ... is that poetry is
equal to complacent hymen ... and yet
forgive us.
Many do not believe:
That the man went to the moon ...
The sea is not for fish ...
Luck was never cast ...
The law is rigid ... it's nothing ...
just to the one that
Does not have strength....
I believe that :
The blind sees everything with
the eyes of the soul ...
The deaf hears everything in
absurd silence ...
Butterflies are flowers that fly ...
That's why I still love to taste
from the wind ... God provides ...
No handkerchief, but all documents ....
Yes, because if I'm stopped in Blitz,
I don't pretend to be arrested in life ...
I wish something to be
grateful sheltered ...
Cheers! gentlemen
and ladies ...!
I dangle from a frayed, silken cord of melancholy ...
Gaping beneath me, a chasm of hope and elation, aglow.
For most of a lifetime I've wrapped a cloak of worthlessness about me,
Using the flashes of talent to adorn the dark neglect like stars.
Oh, there is an odd comfort in the complacency of underachievement -
I used the indifference of others as my impetus ...
Not to fail, but rather to never complete ... ANYthing.
You see, you can't be placed, (or even expected to),
If you don't cross the finish line, or never leave the gate.
I succeeded in vicarious ways, however ...
Through the things that my critics found of little consequence -
Grades, honor roles, academic awards, sports accomplishments and citations,
But never did I exult openly in front of my detractors,
(The ONE, really, who saw nothing but his requirements,
As the only measurements that truly mattered).
Now I see, above, the black expanse of that life of shortcomings ...
That mockery of pretending to care about what he cared about ...
I feel my fingers loosening their grip on that rope of failure,
Sadness and careless interest starting to slide through my palms,
The opulence and shine of release, success, self-esteem, and joy,
Warming the soles of my feet ... whispering "Let go, lad ... live again!"
How sad, that it's the specter of his death, and the waning of his sanity,
That makes it so, for all I ever wished for ...
Was his praise.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Eight Word Challenge #8" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.
Sheep And Cattle
The government issued citations today
My sheep and cattle are not welcome into town no more
They must wear diapers in the fields
And not allowed outside on Sundays
No more grain or grass for them, the complaint read
No more manure
It is a matter of manners
Sheep can be used exclusively for stews
Cattle must become hamburgers and wear brown shoes
No more farting in the meadows
My animals give off gases which is against the laws of nature
Destroying the ozone levels in the process
Offending the atmosphere
I have no clue who creates these laws
Politicians with nothing better to do
Someone needs to remove their heads from their posterior
Or my animals will stop producing food
Hi, Mistew Powiceman!
Hi kid. Wutcha doin' outside?
I'm just pwaying hide-and-seek wif my fwends
Where's your mask, kid?
In my pocket. I stawted sweating.
Well, put it on again, ok?
Ok. (Eyes downcast. Puts it on inside out).
Kid, how old are you, anyway?
This many. (Holds up three fingers).
I see. Is your mommy home, kid?
Shu-wah. Thew she is, on the steps.
C'mere, ma'am.
Just a minute, sir. I need to bring my twins
(Appears with two 8-week-old infants in a stroller).
Ma'am, uh, I have to, uh, you see, uh, ma'am--
Is there a problem, officer?
Uh, well, you know, the Governor's new orders
about all kids over two, uh, ma'am, you know--
Yes, officer?
Oh, nothing, ma'am. Nothing, really. Your kids
are adorable, ma'am. Have a wonderful day!
You, too, officer. And thanks for watching out for our block!...
Roarke, you issue any citations today?
Uh well, no, sir.
NO, SIR?! NO, SIR?! I give you a block teeming with kids
without masks on, and you issue NO CITATIONS?!
Well, you know, sir, it's like this, sir, you see--
I see red, Roarke! The city's starving for revenue, and you issue NO--
Now just a minute, sir. Those innocent kids--
Those 'innocent kids,' huh? Were those innocent kids over two?
Well, maybe a couple of them were--
Uh, huh. Turn in your badge, Roarke.
With pleasure, sir. (Flings it onto the desk and exits, muttering)...
Hi, Honey! How was the beat today?
Oh, you might say common sense and
I were the latest victims of COVID-19
Huh?! Wudja say?!...
The Incorrection of a Sheriff Department will Hear its citations in Jail or Peace Officers Shall Assemble Over It
Citation is removal of war and infinite cost of liberty.
The literate ledge is poetry.
Erie
The Incorrection of a Sheriff Departmentwill Hear its citations in Jail or Peace Officers Shall Assemble Over It
Citation is removal of war and infinite cost of liberty.
The literate ledge is poetry.
Erie
Ledgible
The Incorrection of a Sheriff Department will Hear its citations in Jail or Peace Officers Shall Assemble Over It
Citation is removal of war and infinite cost of liberty.
The literate ledge is poetry.
Erie
Copyright © kevin mathenia | Year Posted 2025
State of emergency
My document exists and is supplied power
[email protected]
Ayala.Benefraim@ventura.org
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ng[email protected]
realdonaldtrump cagovernor asmirwin
#aoc #berniesanders #elizabethwarren #realdonaldtrump #cagovernor #asmirwin #robertfkennedyjr #vcpublicdefender
Assembly Member Irwin
Spell live with five letters
Make an improvement sentence
The Mayor of Los Angeles has made
Governor
Attempt witness that
Public defender
Do the same
same
realdonaldtrump cagovernor asmirwin
#nytimes #latimes #bbcnews
#vcpublicdefender #dailymirror
#royceda59 #asmirwin
#cagovernor #mayorofla #declanwalsh
realdonaldtrump cagovernor asmirwin
#nytimes #latimes #bbcnews
#vcpublicdefender #dailymirror
#royceda59 #asmirwin #cagovernor
#mayorofla #declanwalsh
Africa mother Africa
Africa of scrumptious haven
Slowly stretched
Into an unscrupulous savannah
Africa of whom my grandmothers
Now sits and cry
Singing her present gore
Silhouette against her ancient glory
Your blood flows on our streets
And on our streams
Your beautiful black blood
That in time past flows in our veins
Africa that birthed warriors
Of ancestral citations
Now puppets of millennium recantation
The sweats of your toils
The scars from your slavery
The cry for your freedom
How come this has now
Transformed into a mastery
Of your present folly
You whose back was bent
To pack from her plenteous plantation
Now breaks in the continuous bid
To pick form her present carnage
When Solar Flares
Give The Sun Citations when it disrespects the laws of nature
For not following ways of man at all cost and cause and case
No matter what your rules might indicate
A certain fate awaits
Space between all atoms is enormous
The reason we don’t walk through walls
Or fall through floors is not magic
Atoms don’t hold themselves alone, suspended in empty space
It is magnetic fields that react to those two forces
That keeps the universe in place
When sun’s highways of solar flares, stream in channels
Travel in their respective places, all is well and fine
When they follow normal traffic rules and stay in lanes
Suns don’t have our mind
They seem to stray in more than one direction
Magnetic streams collide, send corona blasts to Earth
When solar storms collapse for months or years our infrastructures
Say good bye to power grids and life as you once knew it
Prepare to rub two sticks together for heat and warmth
Get out bongo drums
Tap text messages to your friends
The day my life went whacko, I woke up bumfuzzled.
To this day, I can’t tell you why I was so puzzled.
First I put instant oatmeal in my coffee maker;
I made sure I selected my favorite, Quaker!
Then I poured in some milk and a handful of raisins.
I presumed on a yummy treat I’d soon be grazin’.
What I ended up with was a clogged Mr. Coffee.
For my breakfast, I choked down a stale piece of toffee.
Then I had to do laundry. There was no detergent
and no dryer sheets. My circumstances were urgent!
So I dashed off to buy all the items I needed.
Then the time came to pay, and my plans were impeded.
for my purse was at HOME. I had no cards or money.
When I watch silly sitcoms, I find such scenes funny!
On my way to retrieve my purse, I got two tickets.
from a smirking patrolman who said, “Ma’am, please click it!
And your license?” “At home, sir.” I took my citations
and, attaching my seat belt, I hid my frustration
till I’d driven at least half a mile. Then I hollered,
quite aware I would have to pay hundreds of dollars.
So preoccupied by these events, I was crying.
Sitting there at a four-way stop, I began trying
hard to fathom that incomprehensible scene.
Was that stupid red stop sign EVER gonna turn green?
written March 13, 2020, for Nina Parmenter's contest
April 7, 2020, entered in Caren Krutsinger's contest placed 3rd
I've had many honors bestowed upon me throughout the years.
Accolades and titles were heaped upon me by my peers.
Citations I've received and medals were pinned upon my breast,
But the title "Dad" I cherish more than all the rest!
I was honored to be called "Sarge" by men I was to lead,
And was priviliged to command that extraordinary breed
But there is nothing that can compare or is more dear to me,
Than to be called "Dad" and be the best that I can be!
Those in authority thought I had some leadership abilities,
And promoted me to "Chief" with increased responsibilities.
To be called "Chief" boosts one's ego somewhat I suppose,
But to be called "Dad" is very special, I proudly disclose!
I carried the prestigious label of "Bailiff" for a time,
And though it was an influential moniker and was held sublime,
This nor any other exalted title meant as much to me,
As being called "Dad" dangling my little ones upon my knee!
Though there are many things as a Dad I'll never comprehend,
Lord, I pray for wisdom as I extend a guiding hand.
There are honeyed words and other things that make me glad,
Bu there ain't nothin' I'd rather hear than, "I love you, Dad!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
I used to think poems lived in leather-bound books,
guarded by professors with stern looks,
that words worth speaking needed permission,
academic citations, scholarly submission.
I sat in corners swallowing syllables,
choking on metaphors I couldn't pronounce,
wondering why my tongue tied itself in knots
while others spoke verses smooth as river stones.
The first time I wrote something real,
my hands shook like autumn leaves.
I called it a draft, a sketch, a maybe-someday thing—
anything but a poem, because poems were precious things
and who was I to claim that word?
Three crumpled notebooks later,
I stood at an open mic, palms sweating,
heart drumming rhythms louder than my voice could ever be.
The room was half-empty, the lights too bright,
my paper creased from being folded, unfolded, refolded again.
And I spoke.
The silence after I finished
was the first punctuation mark I truly understood.
See, finding your voice isn't about sounding good.
It's about sounding like you.
It's the moment you stop apologizing for your own echo,
stop trying to fit your breath into someone else's lungs.
I still don't know if what I do is poetry.
Some days I think it's just survival with better line breaks,
confession without the curtain,
the things I couldn't say finding their way out anyway.
But I know this:
When I speak now, I recognize the sound.
When I write, the words fit my mouth
like they've been waiting there all along.
And maybe that's enough.
Maybe that's everything.
Maybe poetry isn't something you find.
Maybe poetry is what finds you
when you finally stop running from your own voice.