Long Commissions Poems
Long Commissions Poems. Below are the most popular long Commissions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Commissions poems by poem length and keyword.
I could not resist screaming and yelling at my highest level.
I have never been this out of control.
My husband heard about it at lunch.
And he works in another department
I was shrieking so loudly, and yelling the F word all over the place.
The other stockbrokers looks scared
As if they had never heard or used that word.
I was throwing things into my briefcase as I screeched.
The head of the department did not know that calling me dumb
Is something that I do not tolerate.
Especially since he was getting commissions off my commissions.
This was 1984, and I have never forgotten it.
I have tried to forget my behavior,
but that is something I may never forget.
I do not believe you will ever come back, my husband said.
Bingo.
Margin of Error
By Mark D. Stucky
If, statistically, Adam and Eve
hadn’t exceeded Eden’s margin of error,
would lambs now be lounging with lions?
Would toothy T-Rexes have been vegan?
Would we love our neighbors and enemies
as we love our less-than-perfect selves?
Would we make war no more
and have peace on earth?
But, certainly, mistakes were made!
And now, we should wherever possible
correct for past and future errors,
across centuries of commissions and omissions.
Like the trembling woman sprawled in the dust,
“go and sin no more” is also meant for us.
(First published in Agape Review, 29 May 2022. See also my poems “Words in the Wind” and “Hate Vacuuming?”)
(Image by Engin_Akyurt on Pixabay.com.)
We'd never know what we meant to someone
Why?
We are not supposed to know
We are supposed to know how we are to someone
and correct ourselves
But the knowing part - hah
Why do you want to know anyway?
So you can take that person for granted?
So you can make that person's life a living hell?
Yes you are capable, my friend
So God withholds information from you
So you can't do all that
The minute you do
It's all down hill from there
We are supposed to treasure people
Love them
Taking care of them
If you can't do all that
You can't do anything
Does God want you to do anything?
Only one thing - love others
He commissions us to go to all the world
to reach people
Why?
Is it because He loves them and wants you to love them?
Never doubt His intention
His intention is for you to be good
Just as He is good
So there
In all things, give thanks.
Surrounded,
overwhelmed by disassociating depression,
learn gratitude.
Gratitude, a sacred noun,
positive attitude, a secular verb phrase.
Depression and gratitude,
depressed impress.
Impossibly essential
potential.
Suppression and hope.
Hope in and through
blind and deaf as faith,
senseless passion dispowering position
over doubling down negative consequences
co-arising dissonant experience
with resonant resolutions.
Repressing naked clarity,
dualdark yet light-squared
and cubed
in fractal dialects
of holy, trauma,
sacred enslavement,
immortal despair.
Desecrated Earth
by commodified inhumanity,
capitalized corporate stricture,
giving thanks
for dawn's promised dusk.
Within,
above,
below all,
giving thanks without receiving praise,
re-acclimating gratitude,
humbling attitude.
Great commissions,
emissions,
omissions;
elevating attitudes
descending through our past.
Elevators rise to fall to rise
within great and small
freedoms of commission.
Paradise fulfills embryonic passion
as pleasure grows roots in healthcare faith
emerging from fragile hope,
contagious absence of distrust's despair.
Desperation limns failed aspirations
lacking pathological denial,
returning Earth's holistic trust
with humanity's mistrust,
light squared lust
disturbing dualistic darkness.
Energy's massive capital,
our degenerating god
of depressing idolatry.
Craven subsidies
defy investments in future health
of divestments from past pathologies.
Information capitalizes derivatives of energy,
as exformation departs from pregnant entropy.
Great commissions
of gratifying robust relationships
grow from small omissions
of history's dissonant mistrust.
In all trusted passions
and distrusted pains,
give thanks.
Opportunity knocks
Wanting investment stock
Offering salary positions
Full-time committed commissions
Benefits are great
For you and a mate
Travelling collegiate towns
Going down
Alpha Beta Road
Enduring wintry cold
First place opportunity went
House fraternity rent
Brothers answered knock
Calculated the luring stock
Requested a brochure
When opportunity stepped off the floor
Accepting escort to the door
Finding another place
Hoping to receive a smiling face
Innocent and bright
Wearing wedding white
And engagement ring from her knight
Both ready for the real-life fight
Opportunity gave the door a tap
Woke the Sorority sister from a between class nap
Throwing a pitch
Sounding quick and rich
She exclaimed
Not playing a game
“A.I.
Senior replied
Wrote you are a lie
We have Wi-Fi
Don't even try"
Rejected
Dejected
Opportunity still acted cool
Not being a fool
Walked over to where there's brew
Needed a break
Find out how much students want to make
Discovering academics at stake
Opportunity pondered a bit
Thinking what would fit
When Honesty walked in
Knowing how to win
One over
When scholars mature, get older
"You look hot
Join me in my spot"
Opportunity did knock
Wanting investment stocks
"Only if you speak the truth
Or honesty will hit the roof
You see opportunity when you knock
Your stock
Better be real
Or it's a no deal
There are many fakes
And hate
Out there
Our new generation is aware
And they do care
Future should be filled with dreams
Not angry computerized screams
You must love thy neighbor
And the waiter
Since they could be the one
When success is done"
"Honesty, you should not be ignored
May I open the door
And share
Ideas, creative and fair"
"I got this,"
Honesty blew opportunity a kiss
"We maybe broke
But still can joke
Reality is on our side
A light that guides
Showing vigilant nerve
Until we get what we deserve
A true blessen
Confronting political recession
Since deception
That is not our fault
Should be caught
And will haunt
Those doing wrong
Singing our campus fight song"
Opportunity figured day end arrived
And said goodbye
Leaving the course
Feeling remorse
the one walks out
of your dreams
and into your life
becoming your wife
my wife one day
was berating me
for all my myriad faults
all my sins against her
my omissions and commissions
malfeasance and misfeasance
things I had done
and things i had failed to do
all of which I acknowledge
and apologized for
and apologized for
but finally I had enough
I said
well if I am so bad
so horrible
so evil a creature
and a person you hate
so much
why the hell did you marry me
she laughed
temporarly insanity
and I am still insane
twenty five years later
we both laughed
we both laughed
and fell in love
again
as always
we fall in love
with each other
every day
every moment
every second
it dawned on me
I had the answer to the question
and that my friends
is the true unknowable madness
the true zen spirit of love
see part one for Author note
Euphoric, I rush to you, Lord, unaware I'm naked.
In your presence, my physique and psyche are elated
On my way, I trampled them—thus my kith and kin complained.
In my mad, single-minded pursuit, had I gone harebrained?
Am I a rebel that I've given up all social norms?
Drunk with your thoughts, have I forgotten all gregarious forms?
My home and all within it, seem to me nonexistent.
In my sleeping and waking I've become inconsistent.
I'm filled with hallucinations of heaven day and night.
With devils and furnaces, in my nightmares, I often fight.
I feel your Spirit flowing like a stream and washing me.
From my sins of commissions and omissions, I rise free
Transcending each mundane infinitesimal dharma
That fetters me in a birth-rebirth cycle of Karma.
Like a mad mullah or like a crazy priest of Allah
In each drama, am I not seeking you, the Param Brahma?
By invitation from a trusted friend,
a medium intervention took place and I went.
The building set in the thick forest by a shimmering lake,
some broken sheds looking sad and strange to take.
Weeded and worn the manor house thatch,
a frail welcome and the oil lamp in my face, opens the latch.
Guided into a stony room, a roaring fire giving light to others,
all wearing coats to darkness trance of matter.
Musky sandalwood and smoke heavy on the eye,
cold winds slapping windows nearby.
Tattered curtains reveal a stone cast from the wall,
a female priestess turns into a fragile light, while some stones just fall.
The purple silver dress enriching her timeless gestation,
taken centre stage and a bow of appreciation.
‘Weary dreary, the lot of You’,
the soft velvet voice seeking attention, of what to do.
“I roaming with a hungry heart,
and I invite you to my noble sphere”.
‘And all I see are empty cloaks everywhere’.
You charlatans and prosperous healer,
you happy clapper and commercial dealer.
‘When will you lot start to provide genuine visions,
which are not based on commissions’.
‘This labor by slow prudence not to fail,
needs the wind of compassion to sail.’
‘Some work of noble note is still to be done’,
Deep moans round with many voices,
some shriek from there own detected choices.
‘We need to be one equal temper with heroic hearts,
to strive, to seek, to find the virtue of healing art’.
The doctrine is simple, ancient and true,
Life’s trial that you only love what is worth your love,
has little consequence by the miracle above.
The fire crashes to a flicker and darkness takes the hand,
The faint voice of the priestess so clear, “Wake and understand”.
Feeling lost in the solemn and strange,
wondering about the elements it takes to change.
That is Admirable A.B. Owl to you the man said.
Buckets of medals must have gone straight to his head.
The rest of us rolled our eyes behind his arrogant back.
We were privates and sergeants, his experience we lack.
However, we know that the little guy is an owl too.
We are kind and respectful. Our commissions long overdue.
The witches are coming to inspect us in a minute for their force.
We are trying to look grown, but we are only eighteen of course.
On Halloween night I expect you to all to snap to attention,
Admirable A.B. Owl said, without a second of dissention.
We all knew the rules, but we kept our beaks shut.
We did not want to get relegated to the solitary hut.
The goblins may come with an owl – one or two.
They like to play tricks but here’s what we’ll do.
We’ll ignore their antics, and not act like we care.
Hey! They are coming right now, flying into our air.
We were gob smacked at how fast these entities flew in.
One of the witch grazed me hard on the ear and the chin.
I let out a wail that was loud as all sin.
That will be a thousand pushups the Admiral said without grin.
The Job of President
By Franklin Price
10/30/2015
The job of president in the Constitution is defined.
He really has no others except within our minds.
He is the commander and the chief of our military force
Commissions officers therein to be in charge of course
Can grant reprieves and pardons for crimes against the U of S.
Signs treaties agreed by the Senate sometimes that's such a mess.
Appoint our Public Ministers, Ambassadors, and members of the court
On the State of the Union to the Congress give report
See all laws are executed their consequences to maintain
Can suggest to Congress other things but in actions must refrain
If I have missed anything I must apologize
I read the Constitution and I came to realize
The President has little power to affect us over all
The Senate and the House are the dancers at the ball
Brought up to the surface by the current President
Through inaction by the Congress he's just the White House Resident
Think hard the next election for whom you plan to vote
Both the President and Congress and anyone of note
Without cooperation of all when said and done
Nothing good will happen they'll represent us again for fun