Long Degraded Poems
Long Degraded Poems. Below are the most popular long Degraded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Degraded poems by poem length and keyword.
Yes, my EYES may have dimmed from aging.
And my EARS may be a little dug from added years.
But my heart still beats to the tune of space and time.
From then until now; from there to here; let there be no
doubt; my love for you still reigns superior over all but God.
The AROMA of your presence never ceases to overwhelm.
No, I'm not blind.
I see the beauty in you that I have always seen.
I hear the rhythm and sound of your heartbeat.
From a fountain deep, I feel the joy I have always felt.
I still see the gold that glitters on your smiling face.
Fifty years have not degraded nor eroded our TASTE of love.
And I feel the silver TOUCH from the warmth of your hands.
032022PS
In a public washroom, can Kings ever be DEthroned?
When a cowboy moves to the city, is he DEranged?
Do photographers wishes sometimes DEvelop?
Are former famous models ever DEposed?
When a ship leave for the Caribbean, is it DEported?
Do lawyers sometimes sit on Defence?
When a man gets ready for bed, does he DEbrief?
If they drain the waterway around a castle, is it DEmoted?
When a male is castrated, is he DEmand?
When a scholar is sent back, is he DEgraded?
Can a lady of the streets ever be DElayed?
Do certain shampoos help you DEflect?
When a doctor withdraws a needle, is the patient DEjected?
Can a person survive without DEliver?
If you tear up an agreement, do you DEsign?
Can baseball player ever DEposition?
Ever seen a dog chasing DEtail?
If you lose your extra tire, do you DEspair?
Do manicurists sometimes DEfile
When a downpour stops, does it DEluge?
When a student leaves school, does he DEclassify?
Can someone's old clothing DEfray?
Does a coffin always contain a DElivered?
Can a movie star ever be DEfamed?
© Jack Ellison 2013
Form:
One day herding my animals
The other, tending our crop
Strangers out of the distance
To them, we knew not
The colour of our skin
Is with these distant men
On arrival at my village
We are herded into a pen
Our women and children screaming
Warriors manacled and chained
Treated like this in our homeland
Degraded mistreated, unexplained
The next day we witness our nightmare
Our village ransacked and burned
Six hundred marched to the coastline
Our existence overturned
The coast we eventually reach
A ship, The Brooke's sits offshore
Ferried out on their longboats
For our future, remains unsure
Many weeks at sea
Grown men cower in corners
In the bowels of this infested ship
Families have become mourners
Tilbury Docks we berth
As i look around and see
From over 600 villagers
Around 300 left and me
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/slavery.php
Things That Offend
Miracle Man
3/5 2025
At eight o’clock sharp our telephone starts ringing,
Medicare telemarketers can drive us nuts.
Seven calls daily keeps both of our hands wringing,
seeking information from some elderly klutz.
Then charitable letters from some we’ve aided,
are reaching out to us concerning our estate.
This causes some feelings of being degraded,
we’re only a name and number whose time grows late.
But these annoyances are just another life test,
that keeps both eyes and our thoughts focused on the cross.
It reminds us daily we’re here to do our best,
without letting these things become our albatross.
Thou art no migrant bird, O Pink Beauty,
But forced art to fly many a long miles
Looking for fresh habitat and water,
In search of new breeding and nesting isles.
And in this search of a shallow wetland,
Ye fly hundreds of miles in patterned file.
Once there, watching ye take off on webbed feet,
Ah what a sight when ye lift off in style!
Thanks to vast wetlands getting polluted,
Despite thine number threatened art thou still,
What with habitats getting degraded,
Should ye lose out, oh what a cruel ill!
I watch when ye fly in flocks of thousands,
Then settle down sighting the right wetland
Or marshland, with friends and family bands,
What gorgeous a sight ye turn lifeless land!
And now a word about thine mating dance
That pairs of males perform to charm females—
Their magical synchronised head movements,
At climax a wing salute does regale.
It's strange, O thou Lesser Pink Flamingo,
Thou art no ‘lesser'— colour nor number,
Nor beauty, nor yet dancing style ye know,
Only size that thou art any humbler!
Soon as monsoon comes to its end, I think
Of thine flocks to turn wetlands a deep pink!
_____________________________________________ ____
Reminiscing | 21.09.2020 |
Entered for "All Yours (May 20) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Eradicated, exquisite, hypocritical, and divine
Given your own heart --- but not given your own mind
Slaving through this lifetime to just rush to the next
Disqualified, degraded, and generation-hexed
Unintelligent, psycho, and deranged
When you open your eyes --- your life has already changed
The flashes of your past speed by under the midnight sky
Stagnant, secluded, and your life on a constant "standby"
Running from the thoughts that erupt out of your brain
Until before you know it, you're dead and your body lies crumbled in vain
The life you were meant to lead has definitely gotten away from you
Rushing through your life --- set off without a clue
Shocked and sinister your body's in pieces
Your spirit dwindles off --- and your life simply ceases
Born with a name, a face, and a voice
Just someone else's solution --- isn't another's method of choice
Always fighting, always frontin', always running from your life
Tearing and shredding through your DNA --- life's composite knife
We all just co-exist under the heightens of this moon
Raging and bubbling and on the verge of starting a monsoon
The emotions you display, will manifest itself as a storm
After the destruction of the storms --- your life it's about to transform
Gathering a team --- preparing for the worse
Losing everything together --- nobody gets to reimburse
Learning the stuff in school, they want your kids to learn
To silence and quiet all of the bottled-up unconcern
The greed of the people of this country within
Forcing you to remember and relive the first, original sin
I'll tell you what I want, if you tell me what you need
For the negativity inside your veins has done nothing to you but mislead
The mission you surround yourself --- the "so-called" box from within
Like everything from the beginning was fake possessions --- fake heart & fake skin
You're a barbie in a world, transformed by boxes of rocks
Millions of stopped galaxies --- millions of broken clocks
Insanity was at its peak again
Humanity degraded. . . debased
Lives of fellow beings became toys
They massacred thousands
For the Holy war
They smouldered while laughing
Matchetes and cultlass were freely used
Heads roll on the street
Part of body littered major road, even in Major street6
They are fighting for Allah
Whose commandment is for all to love one another
Who are they then fighting for?
Are these men not really insane?
Insanity runs down their veins
Ignorance gush through their blood
Wickedness reigns in thier heart
Men that are not fit for our society
Must we wait again
For another display of insanity?
We must stop it now.
Alayande Stephen T.
12.32am
12/10/2008
An account of brutal massacre occasioned
By unbridled religion intolerance in
Kaduna State, Nigeria in 2002 during the aborted
Miss World Beauty Contest in Nigeria as
Narrated by an eye witness Latifat of UNILORIN.
helpless girls
don't bring a woman
to the world
and let her be alone
in a world of beast
in shadows of men
when a girl is let alone
at young age
in places like the third
world countries
she will likely be a tool
of abuse extortion and
degraded
when a girl is let alone
in the street
she could become
an addict to drugs
she could build
an alter of prostitution
to make life worth a while
don't let a girl alone
in the wild street
where evil hunters
gather to satisfy their
corrupt ego
a lot of our women
has gone six feet
so early from abuse
from sexual torture
from immorality
never let a girl alone
to wonder in pains
I wonder of those
helpless girls
still in streets
all over the corners on
our third world countries
is obvious that poverty
is never an ending story
and till now
it bleeds too many
helpless girls
A liberated star in prison
I lie miserably in the 2nd layer of the three course wall
With chains on my hand and no chance to even crawl
My beautiful black color has been demeaned
And each day comes with the possibility of my importance diminishing
I was born because of liberation
But with no liberation
I have been imprisoned
Leaving my people still in the dark
I wake up each morning to see droplets of crying blood on me
And on my yellow precious mattress which looks shiny but tattered
I try to swerve the blood and move into the green forest
But as degraded as it is there's no protection for me
The lion then seeks to devour me
The devil seeks to destroy me
And having no option
I compromise without thinking about the future
Release me from my bondage you slave masters
Liberate me so i can liberate my people
For freedom they think they have
But they do not have
If i could walk beyond this forest
My people could go a dozen times beyond the forest
But as a fictionally liberated star
I'm chained in prison together with my people
Too many women with fewer choices
Too many kids dodging bullets in fear
Too many in danger for just being *****
So many attempts to silence our voices
Too many immigrant lives at stake
Too many survivors shocked and dismayed
With abuse and intolerance so pompously displayed,
All the oppression keeps me awake
I see too many cold and hateful hearts
Compassion eroded by fear and hostility
I see too much violence rain down with no remedy
Violence we support, violence we ignore, and the violence we start
Force fed endless lies and empty vows
Banned books, stolen rights; all while poverty’s on the rise
Watching history repeat right before of our eyes
A path is paved for tyranny and the complicit wonder how
Too many dreams left destroyed
Too many drowning in a hopeless sorrow
Figuring out how to get through tomorrow
And trying our best not to fall to the void
Too much strife
Too much pain
The American refrain
What a perilous fight
O beautiful, land of the free
Only free for a privileged few
With so many in shackles, put there by you,
Would God shed his grace on thee?
To America I say, I hope you’re happy my friend
This is exactly what you wanted
And while the rest of us are degraded and hunted
Will you say America is finally great again?