Long College Poems
Long College Poems. Below are the most popular long College by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long College poems by poem length and keyword.
I wonder how Donald Trump thought
and felt
about his King Midas political narrative
at the time of his electoral college victory.
Well,
actually I don't need to wonder.
He mentioned, once or twice,
how thrilled he was with well-marketed turnout
at his self-celebratory inauguration.
Still,
I wonder how these thoughts and feelings might compare
with King Midas despair
thoughts and golden touch feelings
after impeachment of his intentional neglect
for multiculturally inclusive
healthy wealth of resilient GoldenRule communication
connected with and through
co-attached interdependent values
of a cooperatively vulnerable democracy
built on robust and resilient trust.
For any narcissist,
this is a curiously compassionate dispassionate question,
but for a nationalistically successful executive
of win/lose competitions
precluding sight and sound and smell
of win/win green healthy cooperative organic structures
and empowerment platforms
for healthier climate multicultures,
even the GoldenRule is trumped
by GoldenTouch of toxic wealth
prejudicially measured as robust
regardless of absent compassionate health
Made more resiliently resonant
through integrity of Left minded with Right hearted golden integrity,
equitable ratios
and interdependently blended elixirs
ego-RightWing ebbing
with eco-LeftWing flowing.
Seems to me I remember someone
saying something
about not storing up golden treasures
in trump towers
where moths
and bedbugs
and rust
can so easily spread
moldy moral bankruptcy,
spiritless
nature-less
soul-less
nihilistic
climate pathology denialistic.
I've received numerous honors and certificates o'er the years,
And for just doing my job received nice accolades from my peers!
Many are displayed on the family room "bragging wall",
But our Wedding Certificate is the one I cherish most of all!
There hangs a Certificate of Merit for something or other.
There's A Cold War Recognition Certificate, reads another.
There are Honorable Discharge Certificates for answering the call,
But our Wedding Certificate is the one I cherish most of all!
Nicely framed is a Chaplaincy Certificate awarded to a select few.
Near that is displayed a hard-won College Certificate too.
There are Promotion Certificates my commanders did install,
But our Wedding Certificate is the one I cherish most of all!
One I prize is a Certificate from the State Supreme Court.
Also, an Air Force Appreciation Certificate for my wife's support.
My Air Force Retirement Certificate is proudly posted on the wall,
But our Wedding Certificate is the one I cherish most of all!
Hanging side-by-side are two prized military certifications,
For the Meritorious Service and Commendation Medal decorations.
Tho' these fancy accolades and honors do somewhat enthrall,
Our Wedding Certificate is the one I cherish most of all!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Oh, I can’t believe who I now see.
Is that really you my dear Stephanie?
You have changed so much in such a short time.
Right now, you appear absolutely sublime!
Remember that jerk in our high school homeroom?
He was the one who always called you “Boom-Boom”.
He kept saying you were a fat and ugly cow.
Wait until he sees what you are looking like now.
You sacrificed those calories, and you look great.
He does not know that you are married and lost weight.
Well, he won’t be seeing you on this occasion.
He committed crimes and was sentenced to prison.
So Lisa, you went off to go to college.
You were always one for gaining knowledge.
It is so nice to see you again.
Everyone remembers the class valedictorian.
Have you met anyone interesting as of late?
I remember when you went out with that blind date.
He left you at that movie, that conniving rat.
Don’t worry Lisa. You can do better than that.
There is a story within the journeÿ;
And there is a journey within the story.
Let the numbers both show and tell.
A 17 year old high school graduate
Went some 600 miles North
And stayed for 7 years.
6 jobs, 4 years of college,
2 years of marriage,
And 1 child born.
Returned to the South
And stayed for 4 years.
4 jobs and 1 child born.
Went 2000 miles West
And stayed for 43 years.
4 jobs, and 1 child born.
Returned to the South
4 years ago to retire
With his bride and
54 years of marriage.
When you add it all up,
The numbers are intertwined
With the journey and the story.
So far, by the numbers,
The totals come to 2751.
This number is history, and
The present numbers are yet
Unfolding. Mystery awaits.
But for now,
The story is not finished.
So the journey continues.
Being back home, in my childhood room is like climbing into a time capsule. I left for college quickly, back in ‘21 and I’ve only been back here once, briefly.
My closets are still full of my old high school clothes and there are shelves that line the upper walls of my room with maybe a hundred “Disney Princess” collectable statues (my favorite is Ariel).
I have one wall space behind my bathroom door that has a hundred yellow stickies on it - reminders of old assignments and quotes like, “Do you hate drama or create drama?” and “Imagine your future.”
Everything seems carbon dated. It gives me an impeccable, knife-like sense of ennui. I want to cherish it all or burn it all, depending on the time of day. I went to take down my old Humphry Bogart and Billie Eilish posters yesterday and Kim said “Noo,” in such a sad way that I stopped.
Hold on, let’s overthink this.
I had a hard conversation today. I broke the news to my cats (Belichick and Tom Brady) that school starts at the end of the month, and I have to go back.
They took it well, I think. You know how cats are. I’ll know in a day or two, if their good will has turned to sour offense - they'll claw something up.
Belichick seems to be watching me extra closely though.
.
.
Songs for this:
Lava by Still Woozy
Can't Hardly Wait by The Replacements
Premonition
by Michael R. Burch
Now the evening has come to a close and the party is over ...
we stand in the doorway and watch as they go—
each stranger, each acquaintance, each unembraceable lover.
They walk to their cars and they laugh as they go,
though we know their forced laughter’s the wine ...
then they pause at the road where the dark asphalt flows
endlessly on toward Zion ...
and they kiss one another as though they were friends,
and they promise to meet again “soon” ...
but the rivers of Jordan roll on without end,
and the mockingbird calls to the moon ...
and the katydids climb up the cropped hanging vines,
and the crickets chirp on out of tune ...
and their shadows, defined by the cryptic starlight,
seem spirits torn loose from their tombs.
And I know their brief lives are just eddies in time,
that their hearts are unreadable runes
to be wiped clean, like slate, by the Eraser, Fate,
when their corpses lie ravaged and ruined ...
You take my clenched fist and you give it a kiss
as though it were something you loved,
and the tears fill your eyes, brimming with the soft light
of the stars winking sagely above ...
Then you whisper, "It's time that we went back inside;
if you'd like, we can sit and just talk for a while."
And the hope in your eyes burns too deep, so I lie
and I say, "Yes, I would," to your small, troubled smile.
I vividly remember writing this poem after an office party the year I co-oped with AT&T (at that time the largest company in the world, with presumably a lot of office parties). This would have been after my sophomore year in college, making me around 20 years old. The poem is “true” except that I was not the host because the party was at the house of one of the upper-level managers. Nor was I dating anyone seriously at the time. Keywords/Tags: premonition, office, party, parting, eve, evening, stranger, strangers, wine, laughter, moon, stars, shadows, night, fate, visionary
Get on your groove,
‘Cause Sonar’s on the move.
Hey, hey, all the way,
Put on your dancing shoes!
Won’t stop dancing
But to get your name.
Hey baby come with me,
Let's bust out to some tunes!
“This place is the party,
‘Cause I’m with you!”
Sonar 1: (verb) To send out
Good vibes around the world,
And end up bringing in,
The prettiest coolest girl.
2: (adj.) Possessing the singular
Characteristic and quality,
Which attracts the utmost elite,
In the female psychology.
To know he is the coolest guy,
Is a fact you can’t deny,
Because he sings and dances,
DJ’s and romances.
They can’t keep him off the court,
No, his plans he won’t abort.
He’s sonaring and searching,
For that special person.
What’s her name?
That’s why he’s in the game.
To find out who, and then BOOM!!
When these two are through -
No more high school man,
This is his PHD baby!!!
Oh yeah, ah hah, oh yeah!
Looking for the Sonar Man.
Beep beep… beep beep…
Beep beep… beep beep…
Tonight I lay in bed in dread
of returning in the morning
to the beige building on that dead end street
that floods like the Nile after a rain
potholes in the parking lot like a lunar landscape
to my tiny office the last on the left in the back
its one window facing a barren farmer’s field
where I’ll listen to the click-clack of the keyboard
as my fingers fly nimbly over it
I must have been meant for so much more than this
mind numbing monotony
of minimum wage pay though I have a college degree
to type marriage licenses and divorce decrees
tax returns submitted by the wealthy
that only serve as stark reminders of forty years of failure
to make the world take notice of me
as if I were cursed from the cradle
to be covered with a cloak of invisibility
forever to remain a nobody that no one can hear or see
as all the magic in my mind withers on the vine
wasted before it could be made into wine
A tiny mutt followed her home
She was not allowed to keep it
She was six, and not in charge
Her mother despised dogs.
When she was nine she was allowed Spot.
Spot spent his life chained to a house
Out in the yard during all the seasons
It made her sad, but she had no say.
When Spot died, she was in college.
Nineteen, she felt glad for Spot.
Spot finally got to romp and play
and be a dog in heaven.
At twenty she was married.
She began bringing dogs home.
She brought them home whenever she was sad.
She brought eight dogs home.
All different breeds
chow, husky, beagle, lab, mutt, mutt, mutt, and mutt.
She was trying to make up for Spot.
Never realizing there was nothing she could do.
It was never her choice.
'Being decisive and confident' are powerful assets, but "I don't know" is asinine. Whole hearted and half hearted people are not half, but whole worlds apart.
A famous baseball player once said, "Don't look back, something might be gaining on you". Looking back over the years of my past, I have observed a pattern that portrays the fact that I have rarely returned to places I once have been. It appears that I finished the work or the assigned mission, moved on, and seldom looked back.
I have sometime wondered, but not seriously, about the direction my life would have gone, or the path I would have taken, or the career choice I would have made, if only I had joined my best friend in Tennessee rather than start out in Chicago; or if I had been drafted and sent off to Viet Nam rather to college in Chicago; or if I had not gotten sidetracked and forgot about the enrollment fee I had payed for a Texas computer school; or if I had not misdialed that telephone number that connected me to a school I was not looking for that became the school from which I graduated; or was it really a misdial or the pathway to my destiny? Or what if I had accepted that promising job offer while still a sophomore in college?
I have never been bothered by the 'what ifs', 'why nots', 'why me', and 'maybe'. Still, sometimes I think, but not seriously, "What if I had not gone to that college where I met Bob through whom I met Carlis through whom I met Barbara to whom I have been married for 48 years with whom I have had three children who have given us six grand children"?
There may be long and short answers, but I've always believed in getting to the bottom of things, getting to the point. That's not to say that life is all 'black and white and no greys'. Sometimes, maybe, maybe not, my 'what ifs' would have taken me to New York and not San Francisco, but I think now as I thought then, that the proper decisions and chosen paths were the right ones for me. And I don't mean maybe.
080120PSCtest, If Only, Maybe, Sometimes, Silent One. 5P