Long Determination Poems
Long Determination Poems. Below are the most popular long Determination by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Determination poems by poem length and keyword.
Our Love
Our love, like hydrogen's bond,
Is the simplest, yet profound.
Like helium's lightness, we float,
In each other's arms, we bloat.
Lithium's fire ignites within,
A spark that's always been.
Beryllium's strength is our foundation,
A love built with determination.
Carbon's essence fuels our fire,
As we create our own empire.
Nitrogen's breath is in our lungs,
A love that never fails or slums.
Oxygen's embrace is like a kiss,
That fills our hearts with pure bliss.
Fluorine's passion is in our eyes,
A love that never tells lies.
Neon's light shines in our soul,
As we journey towards our goal.
Sodium's presence is always felt,
In the love we both have dealt.
Magnesium's spark has made us whole,
A love that's pure and full of soul.
Aluminum's bond is unbreakable,
A love that's true and unshakable.
Silicon's strength is in our mind,
As we journey and unwind.
Phosphorus's light guides our way,
Through the highs and lows of each day.
Sulfur's heat fuels our desire,
A love that's deep and won't expire.
Chlorine's essence is in our scent,
A love that's pure and innocent.
Argon's stability is in our heart,
A love that's never been apart.
Potassium's spark ignites our soul,
As we become each other's goal.
Calcium's bond is our foundation,
A love that's strong and never shaken.
Scandium's essence is in our will,
To love each other until.
Titanium's strength is in our being,
As we embrace and keep believing.
Vanadium's spark ignites our fire,
A love that's true and never a liar.
Chromium's bond is our connection,
A love that's deep and full of affection.
Iron's strength is in our love,
As we soar like an eagle above.
Nickel's essence is in our trust,
A love that's pure and never rusts.
Copper's spark ignites our passion,
A love that's strong and full of compassion.
Zinc's bond is our commitment,
A love that's true and never indifferent.
Silver's essence is in our purity,
A love that's deep and full of security.
Tin's spark ignites our flame,
A love that's pure and never lame.
Gold's bond is our unity,
A love that's strong and never petty.
Lead's essence is in our loyalty,
A love that's true and never disloyal.
Platinum's spark ignites our soul,
As we become each other's goal.
*_@Otieno Elvis Gikoi_*
*_30LettersToMyGirlfriend_*
*_THE ELO’S POETRY_*
*_ArtFromHeart_*
"The Eyes Of A Poet"
"The Eyes Of A Poet"
are directly connected
to his or her heart.
What's truly seen and then seeks expression
is where poems do get their first start!
All human kind has a pair of eyes
and though open may not actually see,
certain conditions that may prompt a poet
to express them
with word artistry!
"The Eyes Of A Poet"
are similar to a potter or sculptor
who take an unshaped form,
and with vision and determination
they are guided,
by hand,
to mold, create and transform!
We do this very same act with words
and a heartfelt desire to say,
words that will touch,
also transform the reader
in a unique poetic way!
"The Eyes Of A Poet"
see this world in a way unlike any other.
They see the unseen,
send this vision to the heart,
with need to use words to uncover...
"truths" that can only be conveyed
by the poetic words that are written,
because we know
that through this poetic expression
we are also helplessly smitten!
"The Eyes Of A Poet"
are a truly gifted glimpse
into life and it's myriad conditions,
to express what is seen,
and felt and heard and done
with poetic compositions!
Every word expresses the heart!
We've something to say
and we know it!
Keep writing and know
that this gift of expression
comes from
"The Eyes Of A Poet!"
WTA-IV 3/21/2016
“Jealousy”
Jimmy had odds to beat, one he was a black teen and the temptations of big city’s Streets.
But a single black mother’s determination held his attention sternly,
So he had only Minimal interaction with streets.
He had rickets but Jimmy could catch any ball.
He ran with a gang that like to brawl,
Then he entered a Youth Center where a Mentor introduced him to football.
Pop Warner he’s leader of the team,
Onto High School Football team as runner for TD’s.
Scouts without doubts offered degrees.
Mother’s pleased when he goes to USC, to be toast of the university.
Jimmy rode football like a Hell’s Angel rides his hog.
He played halfback, fullback carrying the ball.
Top backers called, packs of women clawed,
Because for a rental car he ran through a mall.
Sydney was a naive Germany beauty queen,
Blond haired eyes emerald green.
Done nothing much since she jumped with the school cheer team.
But she had dreams, being famous on T.V., a celebrity.
But she’s stalled in the Pokipsy Mall,
Serving chili, hamburgers and hotdogs.
When in comes Jimmy, walking tall, followed by his enthralled.
Each sees the other and head over heels each falls.
Their love, sweet, she felt entitled to be,
With the famous Jimmy.
After their affair they married, two heirs, beach house on Bundy Street,
Her face on T.V. with Jimmy, her dream is complete.
But Jimmy believes in slavery,
Believes possessions are bounty one forever keeps,
And Sydney is his property.
But black eye secrets don’t keep,
So she and her parents agree, divorce Jimmy immediately.
Jimmy falls, fell by divorce when the gavel falls.
But most of all,
He felt affronted by the German goofball in front of media tell-all,
So he watches her like a hawk, to see with whom she walks.
She saw a new fella who won her heart and Sydney falls.
He wines and dines her many times and shows respect to all.
So Jimmy waits, pissed off jealousy he has no date, until one night on her Ronald calls.
Greens seethe engulfs Jimmy from head to feet, it shuts off reasoning.
Disrespect for “The Great ME” is all he sees in this rivalry for his property.
He sees she succeeds with this non-minority.
To the door during their adoring greeting Jealousy creeps,
Like Flash he slash the throat of the one he knows,
Then at speed stabs repeatedly the one she greets,
As he tries to flee from Jealousy.
A Man of Strength and Courage
(A Man Of Beauty And Respect)
A True Story
Who was he? He called himself the
unknown Poet, my great great great
grandmother's uncle Joe. He lived
a long exciting life, loving one woman
in time of war.
A Martin Trapper he was, an artist of fine
design, a poet in his time, a fine gentle
soul of the universe capturing each
thought writing them down in journals
and poetry.
If you should ask him what he believed
in! he would say; “I believed in God, sounds
of nature, love of mankind, love of words
anything to do with nature is where my
heart roams best.”
He was true to his own beliefs, a man
of heart, determination, a man who
would walk a mile in another man's shoes.
He was the heartbeat of the land, a
true mountain man of the wilderness.
He wore leather, long hair, beard a loving heart
for all animals including the bear, he grew
closer to as he traveled the mountains
year after year doing his Martin trapping
for food. He was a God-fearing man
of courage and strength all his own.
He was truly remarkable, who
fought with George Armstrong Custer
and the men of the 7th Cavalry where
they met their fate and the Sioux on June
25, 1886, at the Battle of the Little Big
Horn'. Uncle Joe was sent to get
reinforcements at the age of fifteen
when he returned, they found them all
mascaraed. Including (George Armstrong
Custer).
Many of his journals, poetry and
sketches were burned in a trailer
fire, but to this day, still remember
at a young age trying to read his poetry
I do remember seeing some of his sketches
he had sketched with pencil by candlelight
in his cabin in the winter in the Canadian
Mountains.
One sketch I remember well was of
a lovely lady dressed in a long gown
with hair piled high upon her head
she looked lovely.
That winter was long and cold and Joe
never returned home from his trapping
the Royal Mounted Police found him dead
next to the creek by his cabin. He died
of starvation.
This is just part of his story my great great
great grandmother told me of her uncle Joe. I
wish she would have told me more about his life.
I want to pass this on to my family so they can keep
passing it down from generation to generation.
Copyright ? DerenaBree( All Rights Reserved). Publishing ? Man of strength and Courage®( All Rights Reserved.)
Your wise eyes glistened with cataracts, showing me the hazy Indian sky
The wrinkles on your face, the lines by your eyes, showed me the joys of the hills and caverns of the lands
The raised veins on your hands, bumpy yet smooth, acts like the Ganges, a life supply for you and many
The graying in your hair, shows me the struggles and triumphs, the marriages, the children,
The arthritis you have showed me the pain and determination, the years of work, the labor,
The gentle touch from your rough hands, show me your motherhood, your warmth, your love
The words you spoke, your native tongue, acted as the voice of a generation of women, a voice that’s been heard for years, but only sometimes appreciated
Your loss of hearing showed me the loudness of actions, the loudness of your people, the stories, the lessons you have heard over the years
The loss of memories for you, only showed the tremendous amount you lived, you saw, and felt
Your old passions and anger shined w the ferocity of the fiery red Indian sun
Your dry and cracked hands, showed me the deserts of Rajasthan
Your old gold, your wedding ring, your bangles, show me the beauty of our country, the traditions, that even after the years of wear, we still have value
Your old stories of your family show me the interconnectedness of us all, one large tree, supported by your roots
“Mother India, Mother India,” I call into the void,
Wishing you still were near to bring me back home
The wonders you have seen, the pain you have felt, the revolution and wars you have lived
Mother India was you
A woman older than the world, wiser than philosophers, more beautiful than the Taj
As one Mother leaves, the next generation takes her place,
Yet we never forget our ancestors
The ones who fought, clawed, and struggled for us
The ones who sacrificed their lives for us
You truly loved me
This much I know
You were a mother and grandmother
In more ways than one
You were my grandmother, but you were Mother India
You taught me to love my culture and you were my reason for going back to India
Your time had come and your daughters will take your place.
You were Mother India, I was Daughter India
My world is different from yours,
but the same values and lessons I hold
I miss you
But I know i have the same passions, the same strength, the same love running through my veins
My Missing Muse
I have tried to write as of late,
but my mind has become a true blank slate.
My keyboard is bored and my ideas are bland.
I have to think of something grand.
Lately I lack poetic thought, thus I’m feeling quite distraught.
Maybe new themes will come to mind, if I read some antique poems of mine.
I have written about nature,
birds like ducks,
a child’s marker freckles,
a coffee cup.
A retired boat resting on the shore,
dirty socks behind a door.
I’ve penned 2 poems about Monet and VanGogh.
Now Degas? I don’t know.
Lady Di who danced in her royal gown,
but sadly now listens to angel sounds.
Her love for people was always increasing, but my poetic thoughts,now decreasing.
A teapot and a tuffet, diddle diddle dee.
A sweet little bundle came to me.
Blueberries grow on a bush not a tree!
Still no ideas will come to me.
Two tired tulips on my windowsill doze.
Three ladybugs on a daffodil pose.
Now is the time I need to compose!
A chorus frog’s peeping has a dancing beat,
clicking,
croaking,
repeat.
Jumping rope in heels, the teacher who tried her best.
Feathered fledglings sleeping in a Blue Egg mommy’s nest.
There is a wee granny in my apple tree.
Bring your appetite, then you’ll see!
Trees dressed in acorns
Protect our seas
Echoing owls between forest trees.
No new ideas coming into my head ?
My muse is hiding, I dread.
Cronkite,a reporting wiz,
closed the news, “That’s the way it is”
An unbiased journalist one could trust.
Integrity, sincerity and principles, a must.
TV shows,
Winter fairies on tiptoes.
Still I have the blank slate woes!
A path of moonlight, dragonflies.
Slowly summer says goodbye.
Soon the southern birds will fly.
Smell the season sunshine.
Crowds that cheer, “Alley Oop”
As basketballs find their longed for hoops.
Aunt Gloria was warm in her Irish blue.
Little boy Benjamin lost his little shoe!
His sister found it, "PEE U”
“Hooray” I cheer. Now it seems more clear, I feel my blank slate might disappear.
I’m suddenly feeling passion for more creative action!
Imagination,inspiration,determination!
My mental blankness is washing away.
New topics to write about, coming into play.
Now upside down silly fun.
To the writing teeter totter Marikate, have fun!
Cowards die many times before their deaths…
Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene 2 ~William Shakespeare
spouse
a souse
classic grouse
a big girl's blouse
portent ominous
assertions blasphemous
obscure and anonymous
his skulking is nefarious
utterances acrimonious
and implicature often dubious
uxorious but still pusillanimous
**********************************
An example of a rhopalic verse.
Rhopalism: A rhopalic sentence is one in which each successive word is one letter longer than the previous one. In poetry: where each word is one syllable more, or it might increase each line in a stanza by one syllable (per my example), or a metric foot.
IN THE SAME CATEGORY OF CONSTRAINED WRITING
The Rhopalic Couplet, also called Wedge Verse, was first used by Homer in the Iliad (3.182). It is a poetic unit of 2 rhopalic lines where each word progresses adding one more syllable than the preceding word in the line, for example, 1, 2, 3, 4 … syllables. The sequence of the syllable count can be identical in the second line, or it may be reversed. The couplet does not need not rhyme.
_____________________________________________________________
In The Coward, stanzas are broken up along the syllables of the end rhymes: spouse, souse, grouse, blouse; om-i-nous, blas-phe-mous, a-non-y-mous; ne-far-i-ous, ac-ri-mo-ni-ous, du-bi-ous & pu-sil-lan-i-mous.
LEXICON
acrimonious: (adj) (typically of speech or discussion) angry and bitter.
a big girl’s blouse: British idiom, meaning someone is ineffectual or weak; someone failing to show masculine strength of determination
disposition: (n.) inherent characteristics.
grouse: (n.) one who complains constantly.
implicature: (n.)* the action of implying a meaning beyond the literal sense of what is explicitly stated, for example, saying the picture frame is nice and implying I don’t like the picture.
innate: (n.) inborn, natural
nefarious: (adj) (typically of an action or activity) wicked or criminal.
portent: (n.)
1. a sign or warning that a momentous or calamitous event is likely to happen, an omen.
2. (literary) an exceptional or wonderful person or thing. [‘What portent can be greater than a pious notary.’]
pusillanimous: (adj) showing a lack of courage or determination; timid.
souse: (n.) a drunkard.
In the twilight of my melancholy existence, love savors its bravery, like a vulture allergic to the suspicious aspects of ephemeral glamour, in a final macabre choreography.
On the edge of the precipice of my dramatic choices, my sacrifices reveal the artifices of their curses, but also the selfishness of their spiritual benefits in the face of the imposture of the supposed crucifixion of Jesus Christ.
The eloquence of my silence allowed my innocence to resist the violence of arrogance.
The tyranny of hegemony and the xenophobia of foreigners breed racial savagery and imperialist barbarism, while Western supremacy is transformed into a burlesque comedy trivializing negrophobia.
Suffering generates sentences, but sometimes repentance opens the way to independence, so that insolence can never turn into condescension.
Between the medals and the funerals, between the reunions and the reprisals, battles grip the rudder of my destiny, with a range of tortures.
My emotions oscillate between devotion to justice and the promotion of disbelief, urgently seeking remission of my transgressions, before the purification of the flames of hell plunges my divine spark into the furnaces of illumination.
The liberation of my ambitions contributed to the strengthening of my convictions, so that my determination unleashed the full extent of my potential.
My distance from dementia is minimal, even if the angel of death exempts me for the moment from the penances of the eternal abyss, my blasphemies sow the seeds of a new hope.
The history of my people is the memory of its victories and the grimoire of its disappointments,
Despite the decline of the pharaohs, the savagery of slavery and the barbarity of colonization, she taught me saving lessons so that my Africanness could flourish throughout the Earth.
In the permanent search for truth and sincerity, I aspire to freedom, equality and fraternity,
To a serenity, far from the vanities that humanity loves to adulate to forget its fragilities.
Between my feelings and their punishments, stands the sanctuary of the last judgment, their compliments obscure the lights of my cosmic atom.
In the quarrels of my past, the aftereffects persist, recalling the rebellious periods of my tormented soul.
I will never trust human beings, even if immortal love challenges my conscience.
No bull in the proverbial china shop
but of the astrological skies
you’d ride bareback upon the animal
assured by its strength and muscular form
Ruled by Venus and of the second house
A feminine introvert or negative sign
A lover of all things nature and natural
Earth, loyal and faithful but needs stability
Although stubborn enough to charge at one disturbing the peace
Fulfilling the senses with beauty
Neck and throat sensitive and strong (aim affection here!)
Homely content, liking the comforts of life
Attracted to material things in simplest form
although from senses – tactile or pleasing to eye
Naturally practical likes comfortable space for home and work
Food clothes music and linen of importance
for ‘things’ are of value, money and those not materialistic
Sensation more important than feelings and thought
A Taurean can appear boring to others
Practical and sensible in approach
Basing life on the real not imagined
Not willing to take unecessary risk
nor put foundations that are solid in jeopardy
Happy with stability and simplicity so long as functional
Not to be distracted and not exceptionally clever
You get to where you want to be through determination
Always needing the tools to get back to basics and build
A feminine introvert or negative sign
Life is good, ruled by Venus sensual and simple
In Venus Taurus is about physical and idealistic love, arts and beauty
Patient, reliable warmhearted and caring nature
One determined and persistant, a creative, placid creature
Needs watch health especially throat, repiratory, abscess and rheumatism
Stubborness and inflexibility can sometimes be issue
Possessive and relentlessness yet loving
Law abiding and somewhat hostile with change
Witty and practical, faithful and generous to friends
More than averagely loving and very self-conscious
Fixed in opinion down to experience and acceptable patterns
Steadfast, just and firm when faced with difficulty
These are not afraid of dirty hands nor shy of hard work
At best in positions of trust and responsibility
Strength is sensible outlook on life
Weakness of being unable to accept less than you can achieve
Seeing is believing
and because the feet are firmly on the ground
others will come to this sign for advice
as they plod along taking only what is needed to survive
Today was the day Dragon’s brother Joey graduated from Nursing School.
And yes, Dragon wanted to be there, it was, really, going to be Sooo Cool!
Parents and students gussied up in all their finery, a sight truly to behold.
The University never, truly, looked better, as future dreams began to unfold.
And Joey gave Dragon, the best-est thing ever, his very own, special invite.
Now, we all know how things go amok, when Dragon is allowed on the site.
Every-thing was truly prepared, or so they thought, as Dragon sallied forth.
His own fire retardant Cap, Gown, and tassel to be immortalized, henceforth.
He was a part of the ceremony, to light their candles, in a symbolic gesture…
Before to the world, they, go forth, Why Dragon? Cause he’s such a treasure.
Yes, He’d receive an Honorary Degree, for all the lives, from fires, he’d saved.
Grandpa Troll was on the College Board of Directors, we were all amazed!
Apparently, Grandpa Troll had donated, a burn ward to the local Hospital…
Where our son Joey, would work, jump-starting his career, just a wee, little.
All the people Dragon had saved from fires, would be there to sing their praise.
As Joey wanted to dedicate his Nursing Career to burn patients, all his days.
It’s amazing how lives change, when strangers, are first allowed, into our lives.
And the Carpenter Trolls signed up for College, Architecture, was their drive.
Such determination, from a little Dragon egg, that was brought into our lives.
It brought so much purpose, to so many, when he chose, one morning to arrive.
Dragon roared out his glee and fire, sigh, as a surprise degree, was given to him!
All agreed no one needed the curtains, podium, or stage, as all sang, their hymn!
Hundreds of ready fire extinguishers, came into view, a new tradition was formed.
3 new degrees, came to the College curriculum, as thankfully, no one was harmed.
What three new degrees were added, you ask? Fire fighting, Burn Units Nursing,
Plus a Psychology Degree of “what change can do for your lives, if you let it in”.
Yeah, we’re all nuts! But very innovative, as our son, suggested, the new degrees.
Then he and Dragon led the hat toss, before leading all, out the door, to be free…
Written celebrating Joeys Nursing College Graduation. 5-15-2016
For Contest: Not written for any contest... Contest