Long Competitors Poems
Long Competitors Poems. Below are the most popular long Competitors by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Competitors poems by poem length and keyword.
We have grown accustomed
to Business As Usual
Yang dominant ways
to teach kids
to live egocentrically apart.
We also have Old School
Yin recessive ways
to listen to children
teach each Sacred Other
how to love ecocentrically
together.
Yang alone
is about WinLose
Either/Or evolution
competing against
other competitors.
While Yang with Yin
is WinWin
Both/And revolution
for cooperative evolution
with GoldenRule Others.
We have transporting systems
and communication metasystems
as we have memories of past well-worn lanes
meeting imaginations for well-born futures
together, yet apart.
We have musings, amusements, and musical
Left with Right transport systems
and beloved, loved, and eco-dancing lived
DNA eco-light and ego-dualdark
RightBrain restorative resonant systems,
wu-wei
Tipping Points
bilaterally co-arising ZeroZones.
Transporting ZeroZone resilience
is our long-term communication
WinWin undertaking
overtaking competing WinLose governance
of ego- and eco-centers.
Cooperatively transporting
restorative justice projects
invites new health-care communications,
feedback systems
about more resilient purposes
communicating Left-Right
Yang-Yin
Ego-Eco nuanced
WinWin stretching approaches
building better health care governance.
We might prefer governments
transporting and mentoring trust
creating PositivEnergy Democracy
communication systems
eco-inclusive co-investments
in neighborhood cooperative projects
empowering family health-coinvestments
empowering WinWin transporting communications.
We have BusinessAsUsual
Yang governing ways
to malform Left-and-Right mindbody balancing kids
to live LeftBrain dominantly apart.
We also have OldSchool natural-spiritual cooperative
Yin recessive transporting ways
to listen to WinWin imaginations
teach each secularLeft-sacredRight
resiliently co-investing Other
how to love ecosystemically
aMusively Left with Right
together.
Dear Mr. President,
Today,
at my Green STEAM EcoSchool--
Which Mother Gaia asked me to mention
was supported by the Environmental Protection Agency
until plundered into
your Environment Predation Agency,
an offense against health defense.
Anyway,
back to what I hoped we might talk about,
We learned about designing multicultural nurturing guilds
composed of polyculturing plants
like cooperative flowering eastern pollinators
and chickory deep soil/soul southern enrichers,
and yummy nutritional western food producers,
and north wind resilient double-boundary networks.
And how building cooperative multicultural guilds,
and feeding them
with WinWin organic compost,
democratically and resonantly yields
long-term resilient
economic and political
and polycultural
nutritional optimization outcomes.
And how building boundaries
and walls between these polypathic
potentially free WinWin cooperators
leads to emerging WinLose climate competitors
building even larger scale
ever more supremacist monoculturing wars
and mutually unbalanced
and devastating
LoseLose climate pathology terror.
That was about it
for today
as I recall.
So,
what did you learn outside today
listening to your EcoSchool root system mentors
and interns
and WiseElder matriarchal teachers?
If Mother Yin-Gaia spoke to me,
just a Green kid,
I'm sure She would speak with you.
Just another Green post-millennial kid
listening to your pre-millennial Red State,
Why do you do as you do
and not do as you don't say?
asked the journalist of the leader,
asked the child of her parent.
Because I like to help
and I do not enjoy recognizing myself
as a selfish hypocrite,
responds the leader
to writers of famous and infamous history,
respond therapeutic parents
to children writing compassion stories.
How do you know you are helping
and not helping retain a flawed toxic elitist system,
maintaining poverty of margins
far below wealth piling into too much power?
asked the cynical divestor
challenging this help-as-health investor,
asked the hurt and wounded child
challenging her health-confessing
professing irreligious monoculture.
I doubt I could help
without co-investing in flawed health with pathology
in both political and economic systems,
responds this wu wei leader,
responds this co-mentoring parent,
but what have you noticed
might help more
while collaterally hurting less?
It seems to me,
writes aging journalist
and systemic trauma informed WholeEarth Tribalists,
those plans and budgets and stories cooperatively researched and written
by and with and for co-investors
in our civil passion/pleasure trusting enterprise
sustain more healthy multiculturing mind/body wealth,
with less pathological neurosystemic backwash,
as compared to Business As 0-sum Usual,
anthro-absorbed profit monocultures
elitist Publican winning
to lose further uncapitalized
democratically needy
competitors against too-exclusive empowerment.
Why do you win/win extend co-empathy as you do
and engage compassionate communication
as you would become Earth's Beloved PeaceCommunity?
asked the exhausted leader of retiring generals,
asks indigenously co-intelligent MotherTrees
of their polyculturally extending forests
Root and crown
body and mind therapeutic
politically empowering/disempowering
enlightened/unenlightened economies.
Why do you inclusively co-invest as you do
and not empower what you don't communicate?
asked the journaling child
about her favorite MotherTree's
inter-religious Golden Rule
to optimize effective
and efficient co-governance.
Boohoo is bidding for Boo-Boo
But Yogi’s not seeking a deal,
He’s scanning the park for a picnic
Looking forward to his evening meal.
Warner Brothers deny their involvement
So investors are kept in the dark,
But rumours are spreading ’round Bedrock
And the restrooms of Jellystone Park.
Boohoo is bidding for Boo-Boo,
It’s becoming a sought-after brand;
For Yogi it’s deeply upsetting
And he’s drawing a line in the sand.
This fetish for gobbling-up trademarks
Is addictive - a turbulent torrent,
So the trustees of Hanna-Barbera
Have rescinded Mister Ranger’s warrant.
Boohoo is loving the limelight,
Printing posters to boast of expansion.
Directors are driving round Dorset
Seeking out an available mansion.
Animated heroes fall silent,
Suppressing their deep-seated rage,
They’ve vowed to stop buying new costumes,
Thought bubbles stay blank on the page.
Snagglepuss is sacking his agent
Whose alibi soon fell to pieces,
Wacky Races have cancelled two meetings
Though Mister Jinks is still chasing meeces.
Huckleberry Hound is blue in the face,
So upset that he’s leaving his kennel tea.
Boohoo’s directors have not thought this through,
Analysts think they’ll soon pay a penalty.
Now Matalan, Primark and Peacocks
Are struggling hard to pay rates,
They see this young upstart named Boohoo
Just sealing competitors’ fates.
The Jetsons are locked in a hangar
Refusing to talk to the press,
While Cindy is comforting Yogi
Because bears aren’t accustomed to stress.
Just how many trademarks are needed
To cater for everyone’s tastes?
With so many trend-setters in lockdown
Periodically measuring waists.
The Jellystone team is downhearted
When they note that admissions are down,
With Boohoo now trashing their legacy
It’s the first time they’ve seen Muttley frown!
Yes, Boohoo is bidding for Boo-Boo,
It’s becoming a sought-after brand;
For Yogi it’s deeply upsetting
And the prospects for fashion seem bland.
He was a man who knew how to knock out another man.
Against amateurs, there was just no match for him.
4 years of tough man competitions, he walked away with
the title everytime.
I worked with him for over 10 years and had many talks about boxing.
He told me about how he got to spar Tyson when he
was getting ready for the Olympics.
He never bragged much about his wins, but he told me that if he
wanted to hurt someone he could.
But he rather win.
Years later i ran into him at the bowling alley.
We caught up on old times, but i saw one of those punching machines in the corner
and i told him "I'm not letting you leave without seeing what you got".
He smiled and said "sure, let's do it".
I took a meagher swing and scoring average i said" your turn Alvin".
Alvin squares up and threw only a stiff jab that still results in shutting off the machine.
One of the strongest men in the world took 8 running swings at a similar machine
accomplished what Alvin did with one stiff jab
I realized then that he really could have hurt someone in the ring but showed mercy and simply would just try to win.
When i found out he died a month ago, this is how i wanted to remember him.
As a man could have been a brute and a menace in life, but instead decided to show mercy to his competitors and kindness to all.
The runway runs into her trained eyes
like a roadway that rushes red
into the dreams of her electrified soul,
she's so pretty in her disciplined perfection
a young body that knows years of rigor and ritual
with a mind measured for acrobatic ambition,
she's run this gauntlet so many times before
but the danger and thrill is somehow new,
her hands and feet are stained with bone chalk
memories of fingers, toes, ankles and wrists
twisted, torn and bent in pursuit of excellence,
her ears close to the crowd
she is in her own arena at this moment
no judges, no spectators, no competitors
just the trail to olympic truth
and that ancient apparatus, the vault,
the one she loves and fears,
vulnerable in her scarlet athletic elegance
Team, God and Country
are the drumbeats of her heart right now,
nerves of gold and breaths of bravery
fuel her focused desire to be the very best,
she draws a line on the mat with her foot
everyone knows the score
and everyone knows what the dare is,
the sprint begins with a wildcat spirit
total commitment, no blinks, no doubts,
no stopping this star girl
impeccable thrust to the floor
backflip to the vault for a stellar catapult
hands on the block in harmony
producing a body torque of tight spring propulsion
and she's up like an arrow to the lights
arms X'd over her breast
head high to the heavens
spinning upside down with sweet finesse
an audience in awe of her abeyance,
she lands like a landmark lovely and undeniable in grace
no stumble, no stutter, only stupendous balance
feet firm, legs straight and back curved with class,
she throws her arms back as an angel appeased in glory -
J.A.B.
In the 2012 Olympic Games in London
McKayla Maroney executed the most beautiful and perfect
vault jump in the history of gymnastics,
guaranteeing the U.S. women a gold medal victory.
This poem is dedicated to her immaculate beauty...Justin A. Bordner
I neither care nor bother about perfection
On all their faces I actually see otherwise
On strange machines I have found myself
Bolts and nuts intertwined in mazes
Detailed guide too long to comprehend
I posses little education to even recite
So we go on trying, guessing and fondling
Hoping the cure will come somehow
Amidst breached procedures and advice
Get the car moving: most essential task
Those unusual sounds I’ve learnt to ignore
Wish it away and it exists no more
Of course, they all must be wary of me or learn
Yet they foolishly follow even when I warn
I know choices are limited and you must come again
I pray you don’t imagine my ability to guess
When you do guess, what can you do?
After all, I am king even when we all blind
Nobody trained me; nobody checks me
I am not different from the president to the councilor
Riding on the crest of power in mediocrity
Years of guessing cannot make perfection
Where excellence belongs only to thieves
Equipped with sophisticated tools not in the books
Dismantling and reassembling chaotically
Translating cries as sounds of excitement
As failed, bungled machines drive governance
Alas I am in stiff context with my Oga at the top
These politicians ridicule my feats
I should vehemently cry for them that trust me
I worry even when I know they should
At least I am better than the men in the corridor
I still posses the capacity to think and trouble
My competitors are better than I can ever be
THE 12.12 SECS FASTEST WOMAN ALIVE
Life exudes in it's harshest of complexities:
I have built this machine with bleeding hands,
shaped her to slice the wind,
shined her as melanin with polish and sweat,
balanced her with feel in the cold chill
and powered her in heat with iron and steel.
I will become one with her and give her honor.
She will mount the wind like the Falcon.
She will learn speed from the Cheetah
and know no fear for this is where her spirit is free.
So I put on my running shoes.
Tonight I can't hide as I pace myself, breathing,
Letting go with every stride.
The melody of my footsteps and rhythm of my breaths,
Have synchronized into nothing in the past;
A calm stillness inside my head says "...but not now!"
I'm light as a feather so I let myself fly.
The world is a blur, but tonight... I'm alive!!!
On our marks, my competitors hits the track.
Rocketing away as the wind hits our bodies,
The blistering wind slaps our faces enroute the finish line,
We run with every throttle twist taken in time.
I shaved 0.08 secs off the previous 100m hurdles world record
set by Kendra Harrison (12.20s) in 2016.
Now I'm the world champion standing tallest,
And tears start to cascade from my eyes,
The National anthem reminded me:
"The labour of our heros past shall never be in vain..."
But now I'm the hero and my labour has paid off.
“My mum would tell my dad I was going to church
...I sneaked to practice or tell him I was going to a school debate
while I went to an out-of-state competition...", I reminisce.
But my father's ferocious fury couldn't fright me,
“My dad got really mad...when he found out (I was running),
burnt all my training gear and told mum
that’s the last time he wanted to see me in a stadium."
Thinking back how swiftly those years passed by,
I close my eyes and bite my lip, try so hard not to cry.
"Arise Oh Compatriots, Nigeria's call obey": The rest is history.
You were always such a scrapper, a raging thunderstorm -
Tobi Amusan, our pride, a phenomenon without measure,
Record breaker, pacesetter & Inter(National) hero.
Stay steadfast...follow the simmering sun
And undoubtedly be the best you can.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©July2022
A broad vale next to Lake Champlain,
early morning, before the heat,
barbed wire fence next to a field
where John Arnold’s sheep are grazing.
Tall grass is hiding most of them,
white humps moseying about there,
their heads poke up as there chewing.
Arnold’s House is there on my right,
old Victorian, last century,
nice place, but a little faded,
John has put off fixing it up,
wool prices were not great last year.
I’m not sure I want him to paint,
kinda fits in better this way.
A foothill juts out the next stretch,
small cliffs rise up above the road,
soft, crumbly rock interrupted
by tenacious trees with clinging roots
casting shadows over the pavement.
Way up high is an overlook,
local trail, popular day hike,
been up there a half-dozen times,
looks west to the Adirondacks,
across the long, thin stretch of lake.
It’s too hot to hike it today,
better in leaf season anyhow.
Stock car race-track on my left,
they run Friday and Saturday,
big white trailers are pulling in,
tonight’s competitors arriving,
it’s too early for spectators.
Fun watching them spin rubber through dirt,
and the local children love it,
I guess the fathers do as well,
or maybe the hots dogs and beer.
The beer is cheap, run-of-the-mill,
but those hot gods are really good.
I wonder where they’re buying them?
Two-mile mark, a broad wetland,
marshy ground, cattails and beaver dams,
tall grasses poking form water,
a swarm of annoying insects,
attracts dozens of pleasant birds,
each marked with their own fine color.
People fish here in the summer,
like to hunt ducks in the autumn.
Easy to imagine nothing’s changed,
that it’s just like primeval days,
but a collapsed barn in the woods
tells the truth of its history,
That this was once a farmer’s field,
it only became a swamp when
the beavers were reintroduced,
probably fifty years back now.
Nature likes to remake itself.
Well, my legs are starting to hurt,
time to start heading back now.
The world is full of things that vex,
Competitors going for rivals’ necks,
Foes that single you out for no reason
And haters who loathe despite the season.
In the face of all this you should stand out
As a stout brain that is not swayed about
By the malicious winds of cheap spite,
But all this needs you to have great inner might.
You need to refuse to hate those that disgust
And forgive those think you’re as cheap as dust,
All this won’t be easy for the raw mortal creature,
It calls for patience and calm of inordinate measure.
You will give up easily if you are just a common Joe
For you won’t stand the world with its man-made woe,
It’s your God-given onus to tolerate the nearby fool
With unconditional love your only shield and tool.
They say we’ll be rewarded for putting up with this hogwash,
In heaven when the nauseating scalawags fill hell with ash;
But even if this were all some trick to deceive the peaceful race,
Don’t you think ignoring nitwits makes the world a better place?