Long Classification Poems
Long Classification Poems. Below are the most popular long Classification by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Classification poems by poem length and keyword.
(There are wisdom schools which,
going backward from what has happened,
can either prove or disprove almost anything)
If there’s a fool, who’s learnt to be nigh cool,
He sure would win so-called wise as a rule,
Let him come from whatever wisdom school.
And if there be a bully anywhere,
If he gets ‘way with his bubble of scare,
There’s ample chance, it’s just his frothy dare.
Let me put it simply this way rather:
Should a man feel fully free, I gather,
Chances are, he’s born free of a father.
I therefore have this simple rule that reads:
If any an input in life succeeds,
Scant little has it to do with your creeds.
It then fails to prove nor ever disprove
That tales in tales, nor ever love in love,
Given earth’s gravity, can higher move.
____________________________________________
Tercet |10.04.2024|funny
Poet’s note: A Triplet, Triolet, nor yet a Terza Rima, this is a Tercet, marked as Other. It is time Poetry Soup allows this classification.
Why ghetto people pray everyday
There is a place where life's
Are so in needs
This place is found so famous
On the third worlds and so popular
The poor the people living in this
Places are called
Oh what a name for a classification
Life In the ghetto speak a lot
About humanity
So Now my pen bleeds again
Why ghetto people pray everyday
How come the greatest continent
On planet earth
With it endless abound ant resources
Could afford a place on it great land
Called ghetto
Leave me with a doubt that nothing
Is impossible
Why ghetto people pray everyday
It draw my concern
When I see the most populated
Church goers, and other religious
Temples are more of the poor
From the ghetto
Every day dreaming
Every day praying
Only for the better days
Is no new strange thing
In the ghetto
So I wonder how come it
Be so if man is not of greed
Why ghetto people pray everyday
The root of all evil greed
Rest on the leaders down here Africa
Leading a lot of innocent soul
To crimes
If you want to see hells
Look alike visit the ghetto
Then say for yourself
Why now my pen bleeds again
Is clear life in the ghetto
Are like the hardest life
Existing on earth
Which people suffer most
Horrible style of life if not the
So called poor in the ghetto
Now I understand
Why ghetto people pray everyday
It always starts the same
a fairy tale
first child
second child
It
you didn't even want to see him
let alone give a name
I did
you vanished
sleepless nights submersed in days
hours became a battlefield
we stood against over 20 armies
they had a name
and classification
one life got cataloged
yet destitute of any record
as no one ever took his picture
nameless
faceless
less human
for the rest of them he turned to less
but mine
he was my silver shoes
first years were a laugh
then electrical storm
aimed his metal hat
and cry whispered
- something is wrong
they put him in great blackness
and told me how the roads to that core were misplaced
but he wasn't
he was just in the right place
my little tin man
countless times shrunken metal heart stopped
so I lend him mine
and became his breath
sight
touch
I've tried to overlay him
as there were 3 openings in his plate armour
strange how something empty can be a life-saver
(had to save you)
so I assembled these tin sheets in my arms
and made system to see you
we did it
they finally saw us
and named me the courageous one
but I wasn't
I was terrified to live without you
yesterday
as the letter came
I had to hang my silver shoes up
"Your right on the status of nursing parent stops with the death of a child with difficulties in development ..."
that night ... I died with you
In the Mysterious Realm
Many wonders are hidden in the world, unseen,
Songs and sorrows that flow without a thought of time,
Anxieties and radio waves that wander through the air,
Fragrances dancing, rushing into the senses.
We find ourselves unexpectedly in this amazing world,
Rich in silent energies and beings that flow in water and fish,
Many things are hidden from us through the prisms of finite eyes,
And the subtle space surrounding us is an infinite Matrix.
In that realm, different creatures live, unnoticed by us,
Remaining neutral until we touch them, like our mundane world.
When interaction begins, knowledge and power we shall have,
To step rightly and proudly into the great classification of the unseen world.
Creatures sifted by waters, dark mirrors, and growing algae,
Amphibians swaying the world between two natures, between two mantras,
Insects singing a secret hymn in the earth's choirs,
And spiders, unraveling fogs, lurking in corners of the world.
Reptiles slither everywhere, traversing depths,
Rodents burrowing in shadow, making their secret paths,
And mythical beasts whispering ancient stories into the wind,
Birds from an unseen world, hiding echoes in the heights.
Storybook creatures, always guiding towards wells of magic,
Evil lurking in the penumbra, hoping to sneak in fright,
Departed souls, a gentle melody, strings of the night,
And aquatic reptiles, flying and crawling, trembling in faint light.
From insectoids to strange forms that cast no shadow,
Mysterious extraterrestrials unfold in their anonymity,
They are with us, everywhere, in an endless dance,
But we see only illusions, for our minds are asleep in song.
It is given to every seeker to discern hidden lessons,
And to weave within themselves a defense against spirits that wish to teach.
For in the human being is conceived immeasurably,
The pure, mysterious power, the only one that can lead to the perception of nature.
Georgia has mild Cerebral Palsy,
And was loved by her PE teacher,
At George Abbot School friendly,
But didn’t then become a runner.
The 2012 Paras got to her heart,
Guilted her with school memories
And also she wanted to impart,
A legacy to her daughter, victories.
So she started to train for real,
For disability sport’s events to win,
And did very well at Fazaa’s wheel:
She won gold in the 100 metres fin.
Doha came next in 2015, Worlds,
And she knocked the socks off,
When she won two proud golds,
For the 400m and the relay trough.
In Grosseto, Italy, at the Euros,
She swiped the boards in bliss,
With a 100, 200 and 400m pose,
Also for the relay: golds to kiss.
Georgia was the golden girl,
At Rio de Janeiro for Britain,
When she solidified their place,
As 2nd on the boards’ plane.
She won top spot for the 100m,
In the T37 classification grade,
And for the 4x100m relay blethers,
She came 2nd, herself to wade.
Her tears of joy and happiness,
Filled our screens and our TVs,
To show us meaning no less -
The worth of sporting activities.
In pride she boldly celebrated,
But she was called a cheat,
So she just to physio pointed,
And to her work ethic beat.
KGOD Presenting ...
Live at the Glenn Miller Ballroom
!!!LIVE DJ Multi-Di-Minstrel Messenger LIVE!!!
NEVER THE LAST WORLD TOUR, premiere
... ALL DREAMERS WELCOME ...
"Welcome Home" Infinity tour
(Free admission for dreamers only)
(1st Class classification: codename: ZebrazongaZongz)
All ages show: Bring all your friends, family & Fun
Admission: All others must pay higher than life enormously large amounts
of stash and cash.
LIVE, here on stage at the Poetrysoup Studios
in conjunction with Space Cadet Caviar Records, © 2025
and ZebrazongaZongz multidimensional space jams
Come experience, (ARE U Experienced?)
The all encompassing, psychedelic awakening of a Lifetime!
A REAL REBEL Revolutionary production
THE BBB, MADD, Against Sole Seductive Devolution, & DONT DO DRUGS, LLC
It's BIGGER on the InSide!
Adjoining ... ALIVE at Center Stage: DJ Muti-Di-Minstrel Messenger !!!LIVE!!!
are the ZebrazongaZongz dancers and performers
(promising displays of grandeur you’ll never forget or want to)
Squeaky Squeaky Squeaky Squeaky Squeaky Squeaky
Squeaky
SqueakySqueaky
Squeaky Squeaky Skweeqy Squeaky Squeaky Squeaky Sqweaky Squeaky Squeeky Squeaky
SPEAKIN OUT !!! SQUEAKIN OUT !!!
tweaky twAEky TwEaky tweeky TweAky Tweaky tweakY tweeky
tweaky twAEky TwEaky tweaky twEaky Tweaky tweAkY tweeky
TALK IT UP !!! TWEAKIN OUT !!!
wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy
wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy
wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy
Get Wiggy Widdit!!! Wiggin out!!!!
Get your RAVE on ... tonight!!!!!!!!!! And dREAM BiG Dreems
Form:
Mo was run over by two vehicles,
When he was four and in Tunisia,
Which left him in a 6 month coma,
And paralysed from waist down.
He left hospital when he was six,
And immediately upon discharge,
He flew to London where his dad,
Had secured a job. Rehabilitation.
Mo did all his rehab at Mandeville,
Stoke, and when he saw the 2012s,
He decided to ask and inquire into
Disability sports, asking UK Athletics.
Directed to David Wier’s academy,
Mo became a fast wheelchair racer,
To participate in sprint and middle,
With classification in the T53 rank.
By 2014 he enlivened Team GB,
To tango at the 2014 Europeans,
Which were held in Swansea city,
Where he won a gold, a bronze.
Then came Doha in Qatar State,
Which hosted the World Champs,
Where Mo collected one bronze
In the 200m to bliss the podium.
Grosseto came next in Italy fare,
With the Euros to specify his boat,
As a gold holder in the 200 metres,
With 2 silver credits plus 1 bronze.
Mo made the finals in Rio bright,
And is thankful to WheelPower,
For buying him a top racing chair,
Which is suitable for his disability.
“The chair came..at the right time
with your help. It’s smoother, faster,
It’s my first ever custom made chair
and made and huge difference…”
WheelPower’s Chief Executive said:
“Sports wheelchairs can cost 1000s
and [it’s our] aim to help [financially]
…to give [folks] access [to all] sports.
Sport is a vital part of rehabilitation
For people with spinal injuries, and
[fitness and health are] much easier
with the help of a sports wheelchair.“
With a wallet full of plastic ...
credit cards to shape my social classification
phone cards so I can stay informed
a debit card that always goes in debt
a card declaring my citizenship and identification
a card insuring me good health, long life and liberty
gift cards that help curb my defamation
The more I owe, the more I glow dimly
All caught up in attaining the American Dream
Yet pale and lustered from self-affirmation
That it’s okay to be lost and confused
That it's okay to be me, not alone in
Paying homage to a false god that sucks
Souls and drains my pocketbook into the red
With lots and lots of stuff
I can’t take with me when I’m dead
There was, once upon a time
When “In God We Trust” was the norm
Card sharking, once illegal, considered a scam
Something only criminal minds or the mob would dare
Is now commonplace and no one seems to care
That it’s all consuming, eating us alive
Of all what is left of any dignity
At an alarming high percentage rate
With fake news and empty promissory notes
And the only cost is to conform
To having counterfeit consciousness
As conscientious as confetti
I’m flabbergasted and plasticized.
Under the dark sky of the night,
where stars are born without paperwork and the moon changes its shape without notice,
I lose myself in waves of thoughts that flow like a river without banks,
In a world where every person wears their number like a star on their forehead,
where every soul has a label and a barcode,
I wonder,
where is the magic that hid behind the eyes of childhood?
In a parallel universe,
where birds fly without passports,
and flowers bloom without asking the seasons for permission,
There exists an uncomprehended freedom,
a beauty that refuses to be framed in glass boxes,
But we, civilized people,
turn our backs on these wonders,
fearing that without classification,
everything will collapse into endless chaos.
Oh, how deluded we are,
believing that our fragile thoughts keep the order of the universe in check,
As if without our identity cards,
the stars would fall from the sky and the oceans would retreat into the core of the earth,
We fear the unknown, the irregular,
everything that cannot be bounded by lines and numbers.
But in the silence of the night,
when the wind whispers ancient stories from the dawn of time,
I feel my heart beating to the rhythm of a forgotten song,
an echo of a world that was never numbered,
never framed,
And I lose myself in this stream of consciousness,
like a river flowing back to its primordial source,
unafraid of disappearing into the vastness of the unknown.
Maybe, one day,
we will learn to live without clinging to these rigid structures,
Maybe we will rediscover the magic that needs no certification,
the beauty that is born from chaos,
And then, when we let go of labels and numbers,
we will truly see the brilliance of the stars,
free and boundless like our souls.
On being emotionally bankrupt
Sentient beings distraught
psyche rent asunder
courtesy false accusations
heated words exchanged like gunfire
pox upon the house of Deborah Hunter,
a vicious vindictive
girlish looking septuagenarian woman
buzzfeeding unfounded conspiracy
that the missus steals packages
ever since we moved here
at Highland Manor Apartments
force core and seven years ago
July first two thousand and seventeen
thee wife accused
unfounded rumor circulated,
she brought in snakes
courtesy whom I hashtag snaggletooth
blind as a bat
mistook large make believe
as voracious very hungry,
albeit friendly stuffed caterpillars,
nevertheless possessing
an insatiable appetite
for rumor mongers
especially for bony thin
older bonnie lass
or similar facsimile thereof
such as a small number of tenants
housed here at above mentioned
low income low slung building
formerly an elementary school
repurposed many decades ago
into accommodations
mostly catering to senior citizens,
and/or those receiving
social security disability
the latter classification pertains
to yours truly,
a psychologically tuckered out
egalitarian, libertarian, nonsectarian,
sexagenarian, solitudinarian Unitarian
frazzled, grizzled,
and puzzled wordsmith
who knows not why the wife
singled out and bullied, hastled,
intimidated, and threatened
creating hostile living environment
impacting me
indirectly caught in the crosshairs
wishing upon a star
to acquire monetary resources
to hightail out of
insufferable toxic shock
system of the down
slipping into the behavioral sink
suffocating - impossible mission
to catch my breath
brainstorming for solution
while pitched upon
horns of a dilemma,
whereat I shout out
thru the corridors of time
calling Bull Moose and Rocky
my childhood fictitious cartoon heroes
to deliver salvation out the maws
of an untenable situation
threatening life and limb
hankering for life, liberty
and the pursuit
of happiness birthing
nirvana linkedin to soul asylum.