Long Condones Poems
Long Condones Poems. Below are the most popular long Condones by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Condones poems by poem length and keyword.
Written on January 26, 2020
By Gail DeBole
Drink up daredevils!
It’s not a joke.
The human toe in your drink
Is not just taking a soak.
It’s challenged many drinkers
And many have exclaimed,
“Ewwww, What’s going on?
And who has been maimed?”
But there are the hearty
Who take up the call
To be close to the toe
Soaked in some alcohol.
Yes, the toe is plunked in
If the bar patron says, “Sure!”
To the challenge of swigging
A toe-drink that allures.
But one of the patrons
Who couldn’t live without
Made a home brewsky
After his wife heard a shout.
Before he put on his bandage
His wife could not look
At the painful outcome
Of the action he took.
Now he is satisfied drinking
And doesn’t mind his nine toes.
He has daily Sourtoe cocktails
And now everyone knows!
That he’s not a toe-totaller.
He has a daily drink
And must have his cocktail
While he takes a deep think.
And if there is an error
Of swallowing the toe by mistake
He plans to live comfortably
With toes numbering eight.
Disclaimer: This poem in no way condones the actions of this fictional character.
Note: For the facts that inspired this poem, go to https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/sourtoe-cocktail. This is based on truth with a few gulps of poetic license.
These are epigrams by Michael R. Burch
Road to Recovery
by Michael R. Burch
It’s time to get up and at ’em
and out of this rut that I’m sat in.
A man may attempt to burnish pure gold, but who can think to improve on his mother?—Mahatma Gandhi, translation by Michael R. Burch
A mother's heart is God's ultimate masterpiece.—St. Therese of Lisieux, translation by Michael R. Burch
Fools call wisdom foolishness.—Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch
My objective is not to side with the majority, but to avoid the ranks of the insane.—Marcus Aurelius, translation by Michael R. Burch
I discovered the Goddess in your body's curves and crevasses.—attributed to Sappho, translation by Michael R. Burch
Warmthless beauty attracts but does not engage us; it floats like hookless bait.—Capito, translation by Michael R. Burch
Experience is the best teacher but a hard taskmaster.—Michael R. Burch
Time will tell, as it always does in the end.—Michael R. Burch
Time flies, until it's flown.—Michael R. Burch
How can the Bible be "infallible" when from beginning to end it commands and condones but never once condemns the satanic institution of slavery?—Michael R. Burch
Atheists give God the "benefit of the doubt."—Michael R. Burch
The enemy is not without, but within our gates; it is with our own complacence, our own folly, our own cutthroats and criminals that we must contend. — Cicero, translation by Michael R. Burch
Let me bend the world to my will
though it resist still.
—Michael R. Burch
Keywords/Tags: epigrams, road, recovery, rut, Sappho, goddess, beauty, wisdom, mother, god, teacher, time, bible
Please don’t tread upon our faith
Or pay the ferryman till’ its safe,
We’ve been the blind now let us be the worthy,
The fractured thoughts we hid away,
In the place we weren’t allowed to say,
We’re older now and deserve our share of mercy.
To share the truth that’s on our mind,
The ones we prayed no one would find,
To put an end to this abusive monster,
Because our silence just condones,
The beast that hid our broken bones,
Who stole our innocence for which to squander.
No more whispers in our eyes,
No more living with these lies,
It’s time the public get to see behind the curtain
It’s time to free our chains of youth,
Explain why we’re misunderstood,
And unload ourselves from this eternal burden.
America
By: Tom Wright
1/28/99
America, so beautiful
what does she mean to me?
Foremost, I can worship God,
in a land where I'm free.
A land where opportunities,
exist within my reach.
I'm free to pick and choose at will,
holding office, or to teach.
My only limitations have been,
those which I allowed.
She's given me tools for learning,
with technology she's endowed.
I'm free to travel her great land,
from sea to shining sea.
Her fields of grain so gold,
God, painted just for me.
The beauty of her great outdoors,
still means so very much.
And never do I fail to see
in it, God's, wondrous touch.
Her majestic mountain peaks,
that for some distance rise.
Or grandeur of her National Parks,
are to me, no great surprise.
Her everglades, her swamps,
giving way to arid lands.
Her caverns and her canyons,
would not be, but by God's, hands.
Her Flag, Old Glory, flying proud,
and from generations past;
Crimson stained with warriors blood,
that her freedoms would forever last.
She's crowded and crime ridden,
seeming to crumble from within.
Morality is now at an all time low,
at our every turn is sin.
Our highest office holder in the land,
for impeachable offenses he's been tried.
And though guilty still remains,
content in his sins, to abide.
A shameful role model he has been,
for the entire world to see.
But when a majority condones and approves,
it makes a statement about you and me.
I pray I shant see our God,
bring America down from within.
But history bears out, God, has destroyed,
many nations because of sin.
But despite these many faults,
America's the worlds best place to be.
Where openly we can serve the one,
who, for now, grants this liberty.
Line of inquiry:
truth imbibed
awaits assimilation
we feel it in our bones
in time dissolved meditation
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the forest’s trees, though asleep, at twilight
they silently seek the stars who softly weep
glorious oaks with their gentle leaves so bright
laugh and tell tales of the mountains so steep
in the forest I glimpse a fanciful tune
written by the moss, the pines and the stones
hesitant winds lift the birds as they croon
against lazy shadows the river condones
at the edge of the world, where the pines sigh
there is a wonder unheard – still that abides
flying through the night, across a black sky
glad to know the grace that only love provides
midst the wildflowers, dancing in the fields
grows a melody so clear it cheers the soul
autumn’s breath defies the shower who yields
gifting forest’s captive with certain parole
in the light of still, unmoving musings
soars the ancient belief of those lost in praise
when the night falls, hearts collect their losings
glowing on the night is love that never strays
It was the morning after I read her note
Bidding farewell to the world and me
How insensitive a jerk I surely am
Not to recognize her misery
It was the morning after the flashing lights
Her face covered by a pure white sheet
Empty prescription bottles littering the floor
Her final chapter now complete
It was the morning after accusing eyes
Pierced my heart already ripped out
I mistook my happiness to be hers, too
And didn’t hear the silent cries she would shout
It was the morning after my whole life changed
And I was left to mourn alone
That I knew I would follow her
Down the path that no one condones
*Image of Lovers Night by Pinterest.
Tale of The Night Movers
Hail, a phantom moon
traversing its cloaked
chambered recesses
of her prevalent crown.
Unspool gently and host
minding eyes immersed
within your ethereal pull
exacting Cupid's pursuit
impresses dependably.
Slay suspicious initiatives
yond hints of their riddled
hearts pausing serenity
and tryst capers a fullness
until dawning climbs to a
whispering.
Anticipatory confidences
secure immature adoration,
gift a sense of a certain fling,
for shared planned proof that
sensorial alliance is immortal.
Abiding hearts, minds, and
souls and that its permanence
lingers in all three entities to
be truly entrusted versus all
hardships that dare.
Any challenge purposeth
distraction swayed to disrupt
sanctioned harmony and
impose their nightly fight and
an easy win over the weak.
Lovers supposed union is but
a temporal existence, and
Cupid's aim slumbered apiece,
held in stasis as hostages host
for thoughts to fester.
A mire of serendipity and wished
upon measures of advice, out
from this unlit pullback of the
unimaginative lost, but hail to
the victorious and glorious.
Righteous grit encountering the
opaque influences of damaging
desires to hoodwink the candid
that wore down night's ethical
battle and fortuitous claim.
Justified inevitableness outlasts
twilight's hold by conquering the
gloaming tripped-upon dawn's
call ends nightmarish corps to
collapse.
Cherubs reward a star's chariot
ascent who condones a handheld
coursing and are hereby blessed
with a kiss of permanence and a
dreamt descent.
2022 July 30
Trees In Spring
Beneath the trees, gazing up, I see
Branches reaching skyward, sprouting leaves,
Filtering rays through the canopy
That cause my eyes to blink breathlessly
From the mosaic, prism colour scheme.
The scenic vista is dynamic
And pleasing to absorb spring’s hypnotics.
These vascular plants drink nourishment
And utilize the sun’s energy
In the process of photosynthesis.
The reality of perception’s direction
Persuades self-effacing resignation
From biased human disposition
With artistic interpretation.
“I pray nature forgives my trespassing!”
Trees in spring of natural beauty
Whose subliminal message I can’t dismiss.
“Human intrusion has been devastating!”
Unwarranted greed condones desecrating
Tangible living poetry in motion.
The sharp suited man
With the Legal Degree
Looks back over years
To pass judgement on me.
While he was getting drunk
In student Uni bars
I was uniformed and fighting
Our country’s various wars.
The greatest impulse
Is the will to survive
To stay in one piece
To get out still alive
If you've not been there
You just can't understand
How fear and anger
Can get out of hand.
A split second’s action
In the heat of a fight
Is now being appraised
As being wrong or right.
Now we’ve both reached
Our late middle age,
Him on his thousands,
Me existing on minimum wage,
Plus the long service pension
They’ve been paying of late,
Not exactly bounteous millions
Reward for serving the state.
And he has his portfolio
Of cases, no win no fee,
And he is trying to make
A criminal of me.
In thanks for the security
For him and his ilk
That our actions earned,
Now he’s taken the Silk,
He puts our actions
Under the spotlights
As a campaigning lawyer in
The cause of Human rights.
I was a volunteer so I don’t
Expect or need his gratitude
Just maybe some compassion
To temper his attitude.
I scream in pain at the memory
Of things that I’ve done
While he waxes fat on
The fees that he’s won.
It’s a strange justice that
My efforts set him free
To harass and pursue
Combat veterans like me.
That sharp suited man
With the Legal Degree,
With the benefit of hindsight,
Passes judgement on me.
This is not about me, but the many Veterans who for years have lived under this threat. Nobody condones War Crimes, but we do ask for a level playing field and equality of treatment.
Some people forgive once,
and believe that it's so right;
some people forgive twice,
but then shut their heart!
I have forgiven
a thousand times,
never regretted
what I've done;
keep on forgiving
a thousand times:
no soul can be sold
to devilish emotions!
They have taught us
not to be fooled
by deceiving words,
one mistake is enough;
if one has nearly drowned
in the deepest waters,
can he be that foolish
to do it again and risk his life?
This is the misconception
they have: one must be hard
and show no compassion...
aren't they being trifle?
Keep on forgiving
a thousand times,
don't be inspired by cruelty,
by the selfishness
that society condones;
don't be shuffling
through false dogmas
that deter others
from knowing kindness...
because forgiveness
can restore faith in Humanity!