Long Demeaned Poems
Long Demeaned Poems. Below are the most popular long Demeaned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Demeaned poems by poem length and keyword.
When the police came with clubs, dogs, and fire hoses, the non-violent protesters did not blame the American flag. When protesters were beaten, jailed, and some killed, they did not blame the American flag. When many were sent off to fight for the rights of others but not their own, they did not blame the American flag. When in uniform, they were treated as second-class citizens far from home, they did not blame the American flag. When their own country discriminated and demeaned them on foreign soil, they did not blame the American flag.
When on bended knees, believing in country, church, and God, against what seemed to be impossible odds, they fought for justice through the courts and the halls of Congress and won many incredible battles.
From the segregated schools and the cotton fields of the deep south, I saw the non-violent protesters and freedom riders. They took the blows and stood tall; from the dogs, they withstood the mauls and realized that hatred and racism were the cause. Yes, this baby boomer observed it all, but I do not recall that they blamed the American flag.
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Mister Everett Wheeler Cartwright came from Burlington Vermont
All the way to Massachusetts---quite a healthy jaunt
Didn't really understand the cause the Union fought so hard for
Freedom from King George of England---far beyond his ken, and
Dying from an errant bullet, no one said to Everett Wheeler
Cartwright, "Happy Holiday!"---at his untimely end.
********
Eldridge Porter Hampton hailed from Cotton Valley Louisiana
Had no money, had no slaves, but loved his hoe and banjo
Never heard of Douglas, never heard of Lincoln; couldn't read or
write much, nothin' but his name. Yet Eldridge Porter came a runnin'
East to serve: For Johnny Rebel's legend gave him courage, gave him nerve to
face the soldier'd took his life---No 'Happy Holiday' for his wife.
********
Now the deaths are all forgotten; now the mem'ries fade away
Solders fighting wars today: mocked, reviled, e'en betrayed
"Happy Holiday" to one and all: "Memorial Weekend Super Sales"
Picnics, outings, lakeshore (or) beachside---Beer and Wine and Ale
Far removed from battles, far removed from war's numb pain
One more US Holiday---demeaned o'er tear-stained plains.
A poem in trochaic hexameter and octameter
Judge not the man by his words alone,
But set his deeds and actions against them
and judge the three together.
To judge the man by his words alone
May be enough to convict him three times over
Or in other cases cause to make him a saint,
When often the reverse is true.
Do we not say his bark is worse than his bite.
Have you not known him to speak lines full of prejudice and hate
And then seen him giving a helping hand
To those he has so demeaned with his tongue.
Has he not said he has no time for a particular race
Or group of people,
Only for you to find one of them as his best friend.
And have you not found yourself saying words
That you could cut your tongue out for having said.
So judge not the man by his words alone,
But listen, that you may hear his deeds and actions
Speaking for themselves.
Their Everlasting Night
The pain of night returns
carrying with it the horror
of the lost lives of the still living.
The shadows of the headlights,
the sounds of the boots,
the flowered names on the doors
pushed open, the eyes pried open,
the legs forced open by these soldiers
seeking “comfort”.
These Japanese Military Sex Slaves, “comfort women”,
coerced, bribed, abducted and transported
to battle zones to provide “comfort” to
the Japanese soldiers. Children
stripped of childhood, young women
degraded, demeaned, disgraced
at the hands of still unrepentant rapists.
Who will comfort these women now,
in the pain of their everlasting night.
As of this time about 40 still live,
still dread the pain of sunset’s pall
the scent of the darkness.
They are but a few - yet wish to ensure
that the story of the many does not
fade into history’s silent acquiescence.
There is a shame that should be felt,
not by these women, but by all of
humankind, an ache that pierces the
soul of all, a question that must be asked
knowing that we will find no comfort
in the answer.
John G. Lawless
3/4/2015
submitted to – The Pain of Night – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Tammy Reams
Their March
So, you dropped by to learn where the Future soon will be
And what the fascist’s creed will ultimately decree.
Constructed oh so steadily by Republican traitor calls
The fascist acid seeping through our legislative halls
Broadcast destructively by media incompetent,
Misinformation besets the right-wing ignorant
Low-grade intelligence collects the rotted theme
So, votes are banned, Rights are canned to complete the fetid scheme.
While the Democrats administer the distractions fascists breed
Democracy’s chipped away - Constitution’s left to bleed
Can’t see the forest through fascist planted trees
But only on distractions do left-wingers work to please.
Our foundation’s being eaten while our building’s being cleaned
Fascist erosion’s fed while Democracy’s demeaned
Next time you “drop by” I think I’ll hear you say:
Why didn’t we divert our fight … go on to Save the Day?
But … by then, it’ll be way too late.
Medgar Fallon Roe
Shriveled toes moving forth on muddled brown soil,
sending chills down the morose spine of brutalities.
Three hundred and fifty four days numbed in tyranny,
she crossed them in white on demeaned prison walls.
On twelfth of May, paced 20 yards in 20 guarded strides,
she now gleams her tattered uniform in jubilant pride.
Time to fly back to her nest like a migratory bird,
her chained hands released from blood red scuffles.
Chapped lips spill her bravery in rubies of free verse,
her solitude of raging strength somersaults as music,
her feet cleanse carpets of buried ashes in emerald blue.
Behold! A warrior glides over asleep pastures of onyx,
golden hues awaken rustling leaves in pearly drizzles,
lilac sunrise embraces her freedom veiled in sepia light,
rising spirits back in homeland, roars the prisoner of war.
Information used highlighted in bold:
Poem Name: Solitude
Written on: May 12, 2020
Views: 354 as on June 19, 2020
Type: Free Verse
Written on June 19, 2020
Views For Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Funom Makama
~Winner: 4th Place
from owned to dethroned
you led me
from queen to unseen
you hid me
once crowned to now bound
you kept me
absorbed to derobed
you left me
a spectacle to be gawked at
you jeered me
from diamond to dust
you threw me
once devoid of lust
you spurned me
and yet, here I am
naked
bleeding
dishonored
unwanted
here I stand
here I smile
biding my time a while
knowing as I do
the inner splendor shines through
I bathe my naked body
perfume every curve
comb out my raven hair
for I dare
This is swear:
None can usurp my throne
It's mine and mine alone
I climb the stairs
and they all stare
yes, they stare
so aware
the Queen has returned
your history’s been burned
I'm here
more beautiful than before
radiance galore
I see you
with flames of desire
once more in your eyes
you...watch me.....R^I^S^E
my glory emanates through
every idol set up by you
adoration's MY due
It is true:
discarded to lauded
I taunt you
demeaned to re-queened
I rule you
I reign, I disdain
don't be vain
your plea to return
I will burn
spurn
I'll watch you yearn
you can't take me back
I know what you lack
a heart and a soul
I won’t make you whole
Knighted to blighted
I see you
And so….
adored to abhorred
I leave you
Eileen Manassian Ghali
I was a young and innocent college student when the band America was formed
it’s a moment I’ll never forget…
and I was sad when the band broke up because…I wasn’t done listening yet.
I was not around when America, the country, was formed…
but a younger more innocent me
was brought up thinking this is is the greatest country in the world
an example of freedom, truth and justice…for all the world to see.
But as I moved from innocence to wisdom…it didn’t take long to see
how wrong I was…for there are many people in this country…
who are not as free or as fortunate as me.
I learned how America, the democracy,
like America, the band, is a fragile entity…
how it takes time and energy and hard work to find the right harmony.
It saddens me to think…looking back throughout our history
In the 248 years of our existence…we have yet to find our harmony
I’m still hoping we form a country where everyone is free….
where we embrace our inherent differences and the beauty of our diversity.
Where our love for everyone…is universal and widespread…
where no one is demeaned for who they are…
where we choose to honor each other instead.
Yes, I’m still hoping this is the country we will form…
no matter how strong the forces trying to break us up get…
still hoping one day I’ll hear the harmony of America…
because…
I am not done listening yet.
Some focus on hair, on legs, on muscles or on lips
on feet, on shoulders, on arms or on hips
Yet though you may think it a bit odd or dumb
my sole focus here will be on the thumb
Is the thumb worthy of a rigorous dissection like this?
I'll let you be the judge of that in the final analysis...
The thumb, of course, is what makes us primates
same as black and white stripes make men inmates
Speaking of distinction, the thumb's what babies suck
and just you try from a babe's mouth that thumb to pluck!
When gardening it sure pays to have a thumb that is green
while a handyman who's all thumbs is regularly demeaned
Then there are 'rules of thumb' based on real-life experience
casting out hypotheses, guesses, and other such interference
Remember 'Tom thumb,' the tiny man once swallowed by a cow?
King Arthur's favorite, he even tangled with giants - O, wow!
Such a graceful dancer was Hans Christian Anderson's 'Thumbelina'
He could just as well have made her into a prima ballerina
I mustn't leave out Little Jackie Horner who famously
stuck in his thumb and pulled out a plum!
And for those of you who like music some
Imagine a guitar strummed without a thumb
So, in closing, to conclude, to summarize, in summary, in sum
Just when was the last time your thumb went numb?!
Here is the face that your mind holds onto.
There is the place that your soul belongs to.
Created in dreams
where doors and windows melt,
conceived in grass
where lonely hope has dwelt.
Carried in song
where every child feels safe,
performed with zest
like the dance of the Tawaif.
Discovered in bond
like schools of swirling fish,
revealed in prayer
where mindful times nourish.
Here is the face that your mind holds onto.
There is the place that your soul belongs to.
Expressed in paint
where graffiti’s subtext is injustice,
proclaimed in print
where the struggle is against prejudice.
Spoken in word
where the demeaned speak out,
chanted in slogan
where oppressed people shout.
Embodied in law
where human rights must be codified,
accepted in norm
where man’s dignity can never be thrown aside.
Here is the face that your mind holds onto.
There is the place that your soul belongs to.