Long Cynthia Poems
Long Cynthia Poems. Below are the most popular long Cynthia by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cynthia poems by poem length and keyword.
204.
Team PNoy – Iboboto Ko Nang Matuwid!
Iboboto ko nang matuwid
Para sa asensong walang patid
Buong Team PNoy – sa senado ko ihahatid
Sonny Angara – hatid niya ang solusyon
Para sa atin, trabaho't edukasyon
Bam Aquino – nasa dugo ang katapangan
Marangal, malinis na pangalan
A.P. Cayetano – Presyo, Trabaho at Kita
Ibabalanse niya
Chiz Escudero – subok na sa senado
Kabataan ay hindi mabibigo
Risa Hontiveros – tayo'y ipaglalaban
Ayaw niya sa korapsyon at katiwalian
Loren Legarda – marami nang nagawa
Bida sa kanya ang masa
Jamby Madrigal – kakampi ang mahirap
Galit sa korap
Ramon Magsaysay, Jr. – isa ring kampeon ng masa
Katulad ng kanyang ama
Grace Poe – magalang at maaasahan
Sagot siya sa kahirapan
Koko Pimentel – ayaw sa madaya
Katiwalian ay susugpuin niya
Trillanes – produktibo sa senado
Marami nang nagawang batas ito
Cynthia Villar – ang Mrs. Hanepbuhay
Siya ang ating kaagapay
Dadalhin ko sa senado
Mga pambato ng pangulo
Dahil kailangan sila ng mga Pilipino.
-05/12/2013
(Dumarao)
*My Yellow Poems Collection…written on the day before the Elections
I love you in my secret heart
I dance around the fires you start
I tell myself she's playing too
Looking for reasons to break the rules
I see the beauty of a woman's face
listen to your voice giving it grace
While secretly pacing looking for a place
Longing for favor without disgrace
As you move in closer to my flame
I wonder if your wondering our name
When we're alone and it's just us two
Sharing our feelings of being blue
Promising secretly never to hurt you
Wishing for the moment my dream come true
Building a tower high enough to reach heaven
Wondering if truth and kind words would sever
Telling myself as I get closer
Just a little while and it will be over
Form:
Gather round all you little kiddies
Got a story I'd like to share
Bout a tiny mouse named Bartholomew
And a hulking big bear called Clare!
Now Clare wasn't the least bit happy
That his name sounded quite a bit girly
Had a wee mousey friend Bartholomew
Who's name sounded strong and burly!
So hulking big Clare the unhappy bear
Asked his mousy friend Bartholomew
If he'd be so kind and wouldn't mind
Switching names, that'd be so cool!
Bartholomew said he wanted some time
To check with dear Cynthia his friend
About this idea of switching names
On her opinion he would depend!
Cynthia said, “If you want my opinion
Your name doesn't sound like a bear
But if Clare wants the name Bartholomew
We're still friends but now you'll be Clare!”
A name doesn't change the person you are
You'll be the same friend in the end
So forever after Mr. Bartholomew Bear
And wee mousey Clare stayed friends!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Dear Reader,
How does one pen the unspeakable?
To endure injustice not once, but repeatedly—like a cruel wind that circles back to shred what little is left of a tattered soul.
The echoes of a manipulated trial, the mockery of fairness, reverberate through me like a wound that refuses to heal.
Nightmares are my inheritance;
they come cloaked in shadows, forcing me to relive the horror—of rapes endured in the cold confines of a cell, of the crushing silence of three years in solitary, where time itself became a tormentor.
Judge Manuel Menendez Jr., a specter of power misused, and States Attorney Cynthia Heir, wielding her authority like a weapon, haunt my waking hours as much as my dreams.
I am scarred by the past, yet forced to face it again and again.
Seven times a year, my mind and body are dragged through the fire.
PTSD is my constant companion, a relentless whisper reminding me of every violation, every indignity.
The system that should have shielded me became my jailer, my tormentor.
Yet even in the depths of this despair, I cling to one fragile hope:
that my voice, hoarse and trembling, might someday be heard.
That someone, somewhere, will see the inhumanity of this cycle and rise to break it.
Until then, I write—not for absolution, but for survival.
Yours forever in anguish,
James McLain
She reminded mi of Liz thou prettier than Liz
She was engrossed in her smart phone... me relaxed
next to her chat chatting business... i could tell shes engrossed
not in her smart chats.... but in my chat with my buddy Sam
her enthusiasm keeps rising unable to hold it any more she joins
Albeit i an offhand sort of way.... Cynthia is in a quest
same as i... in our academic deans office at the varsity
Cynthia is on an errand.. she needs authentication of sorts
Her she is on an errand.. but going by looks i guess she is fun
fun to be with.. and now i do know fun to talk with am so wired
so outgoing is she...the guys at college call it the 'it' factor
it means the different between being labeled charming or...
outgoing, snob, geek, smart or simply amazing.. am not being
judgmental... and am not into labeling but into connecting..
connecting with... and Cynthia is already so connected
Delightful... a carelessly used word by them con artist
but am not interested in a con game but in the lady...
she isn't snobbish... as i do now have the precious number
if love were religion she and i followers.. we would fly on wings
delivered to the city of pleasure.. for keeping ideals of the faith
Of love and morals.. i guess well have to find out but am betting
betting on my mortal name and by the spark of flames in her eyes...
shes fun to be with and your's am not the type to be snobbish.. especially
especially when am dealing with such a pretty girl its till and until.. i know her
we part me thinking... that our encounter is.. for its the predestined path....
lewis nyaga
mku.. 1847hrs
a dedication to Cynthia
"Flowers never die, they just become seeds taking another form, but of exactly the same, and so it is with us. Nature has bestowed through evolution the gift of life to all and it cannot be taken away. Natural law dictates we shall meet again at another level of existence, the Universe is full of such things. We shall once again share dreams, goals, ambitions, and work together in service.
It is natural to grieve. It is a parting for you, but not for me, because I am around the things I love. Take cheer for the pathway of life, doing good, and know that when we meet again this shall make me proud of you. The earth life is but a grain of sand in the vast universe of time."
-- Cynthia Scott --
28/9/1937 to 13/4/2022
In moments of despondent spirits I turn to you,
the resplendent paradise of secret dreams anew.
The opalescent orchard orchestrates tender hopes,
like cuddling chrysanthemum my fading fear elopes.
Bursting bubbles of beguile blossoms sprinkle love,
frivolous faith nurtures nascent nest of white dove.
I find solace in sumptuous serenades through storms,
in symphony of mellowed streams, my anxiety reforms.
Intertwined petals of Cynthia and magnolia waltz,
undressing my weariness to dissolve draped faults.
Butterflies blissfully slip into alluring aurora,
a healing touch melts my heart in gleaming aura.
A sapphire gem dropped by the albatross as rain,
absorbs my tormented memories in nascent vervain.
The seeds of lavender mellows in whispers strum,
silk strings of your fir-kissed ensnaring soft hum.
How gracefully my soul dances behind velvet dew,
as Asteria and Aphrodite fuse their worlds anew.
In the vineyard of blushing lullabies in light,
my musk-soaked pages flip with snowflakes bright.
The oceans of my universe peek into a shore afar,
dripping in crevices of my sanctuary as your star.
I doze off to a euphony of embraced fingers in sleep,
this secret paradise, our eternal promise I'll keep.
August 17, 2020
Sanctuary Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
~Winner: 1st Place
My heart aches when I look up at the night sky.
I miss my goddess, but she just won't reply.
She knew how I felt inside;
She knew that without her attention, I’d die.
So she took care of me, encouraged me to change
Ready to love the man I’d become.
I failed her.
I could not change, at least not quickly enough for her patience.
Sometimes I wonder if her patience was too timid, too little.
Most times, I blame myself — what if my heart was too brittle,
And her loving, smothering hands unintentionally shattered it to pieces?
What if she cut her long, pale fingers
Trying to piece the shards back together like a jigsaw?
On many a night, the “ifs” torture my mind,
Like maggots that fret constantly on a scabbed wound,
Cruel thoughts that remind me I’ve been a fool.
A goddess cares for her jester.
She cares for those who place her happiness above all else.
She listens to his tales many a time under the lunar sphere,
She tells her court of his japes,
The letters, poems, and songs written for her eyes and hers alone,
Sung for her ears and hers alone,
Transformed into japes:
Instruments of adoration, amusement, and jealousy for her court.
A court of ambitious men, ready to enter through any crevice in her heart.
A court of parasitic women, leeching off her popularity and beauty,
For any association with her is a gift from the gods.
A goddess cares for her jester — but too many japes make her
Apathetic towards him.
Of her inner court, the jester is the first she’d lose.
I was your jester.
I was your fool.
Even now, I’m still a sucker for your remnants.
I refuse to accept my axing from your court.
I eagerly await your visits on my glass screen,
Analyse your statements for subtle clues that you may want me to return.
In doing this, I prove I am a fool.
Have I not matured from the boy I was at school?
Cynthia, Selena, goddess
My heart aches when the lunar sphere illuminates half the world.
Its monochrome rays remind me of my abrupt axing.
I was tossed over your castle walls as I slept,
Forever exiled.
Without warning, cast out.
Perhaps for stirring a storm of feelings in your heart
That you weren’t ready to weather.
If I could hear your thoughts, find closure,
There’s a chance I’d heal better.
The ungrateful Birthday gal
1.Tap, tap, tap, I watch the wax melt from my birthday candle.
Decorations, people, music and cake;
Cynthia helped with the food, and Elcilia to bake.
I wore a knee-length dress in your favorite color, purple.
2.Something strange happened this year,
Like the story of the tortoise winning the race with the hare.
For once, I was excited for the day of my birth.
I thought it was because I was in ecstacy like a cancer patient who no longer needed meds.
3. Sadly, with my gastritis acting up and my voice strained, I have realized
It was all because you were here with me.
Am I a terrible dancer? Can't help stepping on your toes; we laugh.
Then again, I know I should be elated to have a shoulder to lean on,
But having my happiness carved out from another's chest is the last thing I would want.
It would kill me if you were gone.
4.I blow out my candles, smiling ear to ear,
Not wishing that you'll be there next year.
Rather, I would be happy then,
Better of thinking you weren't heaven sent.
5. 'Cause it's all fun and games,
Hair blowing against my heated heart, while lying on your chest.
I won't grow heart bones until you forget my name.
I drank a cup or four of chamomile tea to aid digestion.
Call me ungrateful or selfish,
But after this party, you have to leave.
I miss the quiet
Before I was in the employ of other men
Before I came of age to apply for a job
Before the title of sir or Mr applied to me
When the only Mr Mthethwa known by the world was my father.
I do not miss my childhood
Or desire to relive it,
I miss 17, old enough to drive but not to vote
Before Cynthia from school asked us to go steady
When she'd confide in me and we'd enjoy the pensive silence
I miss the anxious feeling I'd get when we'd lock eyes,
Impatiently awaiting our first kiss.
Writing all of this down I've come to a realization,
I am unsatisfied with my current life not because of the chaos, the pressure and my fading youth
I am unsatisfied with my life because Cynthia is not in it
The world's become unbearably loud since you left
Cynthia, I hate that you left my world far too soon.
How am I to walk this path without you.