Long Cost Poems
Long Cost Poems. Below are the most popular long Cost by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cost poems by poem length and keyword.
I'm a Piketown son who left his mum
To sail the eastern shores
Spent a year in Gloucester
'mong the barkeeps and the whores
Then a man came 'round to Gloucester town
Said boys I need a few
Strapping lads such as yourselves
To join me whalin' crew
The pay is mighty lowly and
The work'll break yer backs
But if ye crave adventure, men
You'll ne'er get a better chance
Those who'd go out wi' me, lads
Prepare ta leave at dawn
There's a whaler at the dockside
She's called the Dreadful Mourn
Ho! Called I to Captain Frye
My services you've bought
I've traveled here from Piketown
To earn a tale heart'ly wrought
Aye, me lad then ye shall have
A yarn ta spin yer sons
So join me on the Dreadful Mourn
'Ere long's the risin' sun
I nodded Aye to Captain Frye
Then turned to swig my ale
When a man appeared beside me
And pulled up to the rail
He shook his head and then he said
His offer you should spurn
There was another Frye set out
Yet ne'er did he return
This other Frye for he was kin
Of the Captain now about
That fortune on their family frowns
Of that there is no doubt
I turned to the stranger, smiled
Said thank you for the warn
Then headed down the gangway
Out to the Dreadful Mourn
For weeks on end I coiled the ropes
Boiled the oil and pulled the line
Though it was grueling labor
I was feelin' pretty fine
But the winds they soon blew colder
And the ship began to slow
The Captain said don't worry men,
This is how the whales go
One day the ice so thickened that
The ship came to a stop
The Captain cried a wild whoop
Boys I think I've found the spot!
For 'twas about this latitude
Where me brother's ship was lost
And now I've come ta bring him home
No matter what the cost!
Sorry I lied ta ye lads
I blame ye not for yer ire
Now calm ye selves, we've work ta do
Afore we can retire
Of course you know we would not go
Along with his plan
The crew decided mutiny
Right down to the last man
For Captain Frye's madness
We must pay an awful price
But he would join his brother
As a ghost beneath the ice
The ship was stuck, the stores near out
'Twas nothing left to do
'Cept sing a sailin' shanty
And toast the Dreadful crew
So I took a final dram of rum,
Cursed the day that I was born
And lay down to my icy fate
Aboard the Dreadful Mourn
June 24, 2017
Am I really the only one thinking outside the box,
When it comes to pension costs,
Regardless of whether people are able to work or not,
With some working til they drop.
Let me open my box and tell you how to stop the rot,
In my box is all the evidence that points to the life experience,
That those who are for a pension now due can bring to the table,
Along with the math's calculations that says how much they can give back,
If we ask their help,
To mentor the young and keep them out of jail,
To share a lifetime of knowledge that we may need if the internet breaks,
So, we don't end up back in the stone age.
To help on their good days or even good hours to reduce the rubbish pile,
That is costing us more every minute to manage,
Then there the hidden costs they can help us with,
When you start thinking out of the box,
Like, the longer we employ them when they are incapable,
Of doing their job there is a cost,
Or the fact that increasing their age of retirement,
We delay the intake of the young,
And if the age of retirement keeps going up,
The number of those unemployed for life goes up,
A cost that would burden us for generations to come.
Then there are the facts about the health problems,
With older people in workplaces,
Bladder issues,
Skin that is less resistant to knocks,
To name but two which will leave businesses no choice,
But to raise prices.
Another thought I came up with while thinking out of the box,
Is that to get the best out of the old work wise,
We should be looking at retirement as a gradual process,
With flexibility for gradually reducing a persons work hours,
And shifting them to light duties, including mentoring roles,
According to their individual health and abilities to do their job,
This should create opportunities for more young people to
Enter the workforce.
Then still thinking outside the box there is the mental wellbeing of
The aged which effects their physical health which impacts,
The overall rate of spending on health.
The more useful and less anxious people of any age feel,
Is a win in terms of real dollars saved.
If we can get more people thinking out of the box on this issue,
We will find it is not an issue at all,
Once the number crunchers see the new evidence,
That was sitting outside their box,
Who knows they might be tempted to think outside the box themselves.
Ladies and gentlemen,
Let’s take a moment to reflect on what happened in Venezuela. In the blink of an eye, everyone became a **multimillionaire**—not because the economy was thriving, but because hyperinflation piled up so much worthless money, people could barely carry it. Piles of cash with no real value. It’s a harsh reminder that money itself is not an asset if it can be manipulated to the point of collapse.
So, **where do you put your money?** This is the burning question in today’s uncertain economic climate. We’ve seen trillions wiped out of the stock market, and people are starting to worry. With central banks printing money and stock markets artificially inflated, where do you go to preserve your wealth? What is truly an **asset**?
An asset is something that holds value over time. But to understand how long your asset will last, you need to know two things: its value and the cost to maintain it. The reality is, if you’re holding onto an asset that requires too much upkeep, or worse—its value is tied to a depreciating currency—its lifespan will be cut short.
**Look at what’s happening right now.** The stock market, once soaring, is starting to falter. The markets are high, but we all know the **Feds** are coming. The next **FOMC** meeting will likely bring changes, and many are anticipating interest rates to be cut. We’ve already seen **50 bps points** pinned from previous CPI data, but the big question remains—what’s going to happen with rising geopolitical tensions in the **Middle East**, upcoming elections, and Japan’s interest rates, which have been low for so long?
This brings me to a crucial point: the **acquisition of the right assets.** In uncertain times like these, it’s not about following the herd into the stock market or real estate. It’s about finding assets that will **survive and thrive**. And I believe we’re going to start seeing a shift. We might witness **America considering Bitcoin** as a part of its reserve. Think about it: decentralized, free from the manipulation of central banks, and capped in supply.
Ladies and gentlemen, as we navigate this economic landscape, remember: **it’s not about chasing inflated markets or relying on printed money**. It’s about securing assets that have true value and can withstand the tests of time and turmoil. The future belongs to those who understand this fundamental truth.
Form:
The interrogation threatens to shudder like an earthquake
A long index of accusations spread out among the atmosphere like a blazing forest fire
Satisfaction, the officer and venomous umbrage, the criminal
Self-appreciation, the quiescent defense attorney with no right to be there
Misery, the boisterous dauntless prosecutor
The months of the annual calendar, the jury
Pain, the almighty judge
It’s a court case already divested from the defendant
Why should it not
Bother, why bother
Its past the millionth time in 216 divided by the jury
Satisfaction has seen countless rewards of capturing umbrage
Satisfaction has felt the boundless benevolence of glory
And foaming at the mouth, glowering with muffled respected fury
Sits umbrage, staring out blurred vision
Victimized in his own apperception
What’s the cost, the damage total; what has befell, befell reality
The anathema of fate or rather the favored affliction of fortune’s fool
Within a realm of possibility it may perceive to be both
A pebble laced with a thread thrown into grass only miles away
To be reeled right back in like a helpless fish on a line
The audacity, the audacity; oh just hush
Silence is golden and this silence is benevolent
Joy was once prevalent in the company of such disgrace umbrage reigned
Together they were serenity, a mixed graceful period of harmony
Such a song sung by dual owls in the presence of the lightened darkness of night
(sigh) …I can’t do this anymore
Make a world, create a story peacefully
Creating a plot circulating, tip-toeing around the issues placing bait in front of my eyes for me to take
What is wrong with me, my life
One word, a sharp enough blade to stab in the ankle to slaughter Achilles
In this case, me
The poet’s banishment, scourge creating a series of nine lashes
Still runs deep, refuses cessation
Proceeds to feed on every ounce of merriment to permeate through the cracks
Melancholy has produced to invade back in
What’s the cause this time for it to attack
A few simple words, reflection, swift defiance
the bruises upon the right appendage whispering, begging for more scars
FOR WHAT? ! ? ! ? ! ? !
Forget it….it’s nothing
Satisfaction has pardoned me, set me free
Umbrage, my twin has taken over me
To another bridge, we sit and sulk over a failed attempt at flight
Cause we willingly defy the right to say goodnight
Silly Billy had no fear, he drowned it in a case of beer.
Handy Andie so adept, kept so busy, she never slept.
Dirty Donna did what you wanna, she lived just down the street.
You didn't have to ask her twice, she was so nice and very sweet.
Hairy Larry all alone, made the women grimace and groan.
Very scary in his approach, girls would crush him like a roach.
Steady Betty, always ready with what ever it took.
Found a way to save the day, be it by hook or crook.
Stan the man does what he can no matter what it takes.
Always appalled by what has happened, then says for goodness sakes.
Gabby Abby giggles and talks with nary a concern.
I wonder if there'll ever be a time she'll ever learn.
Bob the slob wouldn't get a job, he did nothing all day.
He looked a mess, and yes I guess, there's nothing left to say.
Chatty Patty talked so much, she developed lock jaw.
You'd think that that would slow her down, but nah.
Dorky Doug had quite the mug, he looked a little askew.
When he'd greet you on the street, you didn't know what to do.
Nick the stick was very quick, always on the go.
He never walked, he always ran, the word slow, he didn't know.
Guilty Milty quite the guy. He never looked you in the eye.
If you caught him at his game, instead of shame, he'd rather die.
Ditzy Mitzy, not a clue, in her ear, you'd see clear through.
Sandy Sandy, on the beach, the young men she would beseech.
Their young minds she couldn't reach, but that's not what she tried to teach.
Loser Lenny always played, what it cost, he never weighed.
Didn't know when to walk away, should have left, but always stayed.
Pervy Peter made skin crawl, I'm guessing his was pretty small.
You felt like you'd catch a disease, even if he would just sneeze.
Surly Shirley, not too girly, and not very nice.
You can ask her once, a question, but don't ask her twice.
Bendy Wendy in the breeze, did everything down on her knees.
The young boys she'd always please, when they would leer up in the tree's.
Kent the gent, his kindness spent, decided it was time.
To let them know just what he meant, but still did it in rhyme.
Holy Holly, quite contrite, prayed sincerely every night.
Oh, good golly, how she yearned for things to be just right.
In the interest of keeping your interest, I think I'll stop it here.
Like Billy up in the first line, I think I'll have a beer. :)
Only eighteen and conscripted to the military,
no choice of mine it was the norm at this time and scary,
barely out of school and still wet behind the ear,
too young to watch an adult movie or have a beer.
Disadvantaged to study and too white to be left behind,
this I never understood till today, rightfully grew up blind,
this pain will never leave me as I walk through life,
explaining, I can’t understand myself, the past strife.
Ready to be trained to kill another nation’s child,
leaving their family with the loss and our side smiled,
dejected as I waved goodbye to my family that day,
my girlfriend was there too and my friends to stay.
To a military camp for 2 years, programed and trained,
based in Kimberley 900 Km to be mentally stained,
infantry intelligence was my involuntary military calling,
not knowing what was in store for our adult life’s stalling.
On my new bed listening to songs of memory and waiting,
corporals, sergeants screaming at youths scared, hating,
nobody knowing what or who, or how, where to show,
disconnected from family and treated like **** dough.
Moulding us into military men without feelings,
chased and forced without asking or dealings,
involuntary wearing uniforms, carrying death,
brainwashed, to march in unison, out of breath.
Bushwhacking, crawling under barbed mesh,
ripping our faces, shredding our young flesh,
many a youth destroyed mentally for gore,
but guaranteed that we were ready for war.
Your rifle is your wife; the military is your mother,
drilled into our minds and began a smother,
fired our weapons at fabricated enemy,
re-loading and then screaming with venom.
Indoctrination and mental instability forced,
not ourselves but killing machines endorsed,
spread across African borders to kill on sight,
innocent, women and child death is our right.
Many a friend made and many a friend lost,
this is for our nation, family and worth the cost,
under the impression of protecting our nation,
living off measly dehydrated and shared ration.
We the soldiers of our South African un-united nation,
proud and ready to destroy, our new minds creation,
all others were the enemy and terrorists,
to them we were the same to kill and create hero lists,
Friends and Time with family are lost forever,
memories of the past in our conscience lost never.
I am but an ordinary woman resting in my easy chair after a long day of work.
However I am about to transform myself into a great explorer.
I travel through the many realms of space and time all from the safety of home.
My journeys cost me nothing but time spent in their enjoyment.
I close my eyes tightly to contemplate whom I shall visit this night.
Shall I sup with King Arthur and the knights of the table round as bards entertain,
Or feast on nectar and ambrosia with Zeus and Hera on Mount Olympus?
I could feel the angst of Cyrano’s unconfessed love for Lady Roxanne,
Or that of souls from Poe’s pen with his mocking raven quote it “nevermore.”
Choose to learn the life cycle of the bee, lion, or bear through a scientific work,
Or fly through space on a star ship with the creator of a masterpiece of science fiction.
I can recapture the whimsy of childhood while chasing cars with Clifford the big red dog,
Or take a brisk run with Pooh and Tigger through the hundred-acre wood.
I may celebrate glorious new beginnings with Mother Mary and Baby Jesus,
This holy birth portrayed forever within our sacred Bible.
I might also choose to contemplate death along with Caesar during his last moments.
Only the playwright Shakespeare could portray these with such tragic effect.
I may discover the secrets of gourmet recipes from master chefs,
Or learn how to sew a patchwork quilt of old fashion.
Vicariously visit the culture and religion of various peoples,
Or study the history of my fellow Americans.
Maybe I should check the financial reports to see how the stock market is doing,
Or it might be pertinent to examine the latest advances in law.
Let me discover the origins of favorite words in a volume of etymology,
Or distinguish quartz from quartzite whilst leafing through a book of gemology.
Books, yes volumes hold the secret keys to my voyage,
It is they that conduct me each night worldwide exploring.
I need not to plan ahead pack luggage or gather tickets,
Fore when I wish to escape this world a book is always close at hand.
I may travel safe and undisturbed through numerous times and places,
And leap out of one adventure headlong into the next without moving a limb.
When I am weary from the road or have chased enough beasts as warier fine,
I simply mark my place, fold the pages together gently, and retire to sweet sleep.
let every old woman with a wrinkled face,
she should be aware,she lives in disgrace,
a furrowed brow,hairy lip and single tooth,
know me well,i'll get the truth.
a squinty eye and scolding tongue,
the squeaky voice she's had from very young,
you will never hide from me,
i'm the witch hunter general you see.
my name shall be feared throughout this land,
my hunting of witches will go as planned,
first you'll be tossed into a cell,
stripped naked and starved,until you tell.
i'll start to prick to cause you pain,
and i'll do it over and over again,
then you'll be bound to stool or table,
cross legged of course,even if you're not able.
after twenty four hours the cramps will set in,
again poked and prodded,but i'll use a new pin,
you'll then walk the stones til your feet bleed,
still i reckon you don't get to feed.
then you're taken for a swim in the lake,
your baptism water you didn't take,
if you're innocent you will drowned,
but if you sink a true witch i've found.
this cruelty wasn't enough,mathew got no kicks,
a new style was developed,it only took two ticks,
he bent victims double,tied thumb to big toe,
a rope round the waist,in the water they'd go.
these people were worn down by his torturous way,
but hopkins was going to have his say,
one question he used in the brow beating session,
you're aquainted with the devil,i want a confession.
a nod or monosyllabic reply will do the trick,
or my man will beat you again with the stick,
then poor john lowes,a suffolk minister of note,
was told you're a witch,i can tell by your coat,
a quarrelsome gent of seventy was poor john,
disliked by many,they wanted him gone,
hopkins took the task to prove he was right,
john was kept awake for many a day and a night.
they ran him till he was out of breath,
he was weary, and scared half to death,
so he confessed to get some peace,
then the torturous pain would cease.
hopkins said"another one i didn't let survive",
john went to the scaffold august 1645,
no cleargy would read for him at his grave,
a villager said"to the devil john was no slave".
who knows how many poor sould were lost,
letting hopkins rule,had it's own cost,
more than 200 people this way met their fate,
by the time hopkins hit norfolk,it was too late.
his trials of blood passed through our countryside,
in his work mathew hopkins took great pride.
A new dawn,
Unveiled hopes and surreal ecstatic.
The smiles on their faces,
Heralded news,
The folks were delighted.
It was worth every ounce of struggle.
Though, a dilemma.
Afraid of separation.
Yet, desperate to experience the journey.
The ambience compelled me.
I was finally seen off,
I was on a voyage to satisfy nature's balance.
Now I learned the way of flying.
They had fed me once, now the tables had turned.
The man I was had been called a coward.
They celebrated my bravery now.
Decorated badges shone and made them proud.
I lost one and two things to earn it.
Was it really worth it?
The grasp of my anxiety grew.
On a bright sunny day,
I was summoned by a great war.
The fallen heroes' cries haunted me,
They never let me close my eyes.
Though I dodged death,
My mates did not.
When consciousness returned.
A stream of blood filled my sight.
Decapitated bodies, blasted arms,
Eyes bulging out of their sockets,
The fallen were the luckiest.
One who lived was burning in hell.
Men begged me to put an end to their agony.
Our eyes shed blood,
Tears dried out.
I wished to shoot my brains out too.
The nefarious haunted site was too much to bear.
"I couldn't" I cried ....
A bullet shell dropped beside me.
I had killed my own man, or had I helped him?
His heart wide opened, and my shank.
My shin mangled, my eardrums burst.
"Medic! Medic! Medic!"
A few men rushed and took me away.
I only saw them talking but heard no word.
Certainly they would cut it.
The pain fainted me right away.
A chunk of metal cost me a leg.
What would a hurt man do?
Run away to his folks.
So did I.
The smile on their faces now faded.
They hardly talked about their dream again.
Blames encompassed a loop.
Still celebrated as a hero.
The shell-shock and vivid imagery of the war,
Ran through my mind every now and then.
I never slept again.
Trapped inside a war I had never waged.
It had now changed my periphery of life.
I despised it.
The fallen were the luckiest.
I couldn't even stand on my own.
I barely opened my mouth, only to be fed.
There it hangs, my greatest achievement,
So the folks claimed.
Why did I live in guilt then?
Was it to hide my sins,
Or to make me feel proud?
The barrage of questions and bullets,
Never left my conscience.
I may have quit the war,
It still ran inside my head.
On the day of your birth, joyous or tragic at the girth.
With sun or light, opportunity gains flight.
The moon or night, once begun always a fight.
A choice to make, a path to take, to find your way night or light.
Signs along the way, though in plain sight have no sway.
Words and actions unmatched, alludes balance and remains detached.
By the time a connection is made, aged and tired we begin to fade.
Born to die, lived a lie.
2
A death begins, with truly no end, regardless of the course.
The start as well, has no tell, of what life contains, within it’s well.
Seek to find in this grind, a way, a path, a place.
Where peace at last has finally cast a role, a sign, a space.
For time has no friends, it’s always there at the end.
Do the best, pass the test, meet every challenge.
When this is so, the time will go, like the tides ebb and flow.
In the same way , make every day a death that can never stay.
3
Remember when the days begun, fiery like the midday sun.
Battles fade and wars won,
Heated by words and deeds fired by our own guns.
In a time of no fear never knowing what was dear.
All things gained and nothing lost
leaving someone else to pay the cost.
Like this is not the way, to waste this precious day.
In the end we all pay at the end that’s all to say.
But to realize before begun, a job that must be done.
For born are we to die, living when we know the reason way.
Die we all do, return to dust we will.
Taking nothing when we go leaving everything for life’s show.
So the question remains,
Born to die or live and know why.
4
In the brew when we begin, never knowing till the end.
What, will we become, when our time, here is done.
Lead your’s through stress and stiff or glide with glee as joy fills your life.
Regardless of the circumstances as we enter life’s stage
We alone will or won’t choose to play the roles life has paved.
It’s not a fight when we begin, we know it all and can do it all too.
Toward the middle we start to wonder, if we shoulda...,
A fleeting thought because another distraction comes along.
Before you know it, the time is gone.
You sit and think, you ask why.
As you think you realize, like a brand new light bulb, Bright.
It shine, you see on the places and seeds,
you chose thus far not to go or sow.
Your at the middle and again you choose.
You now know, what will you do?
Form: