Long Determined Poems
Long Determined Poems. Below are the most popular long Determined by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Determined poems by poem length and keyword.
Who initially determined what is good and what is bad? What to think, and what not to ask? Why the hell doesn't anyone else voice more questions like that? Why are most people sheep that get caught up In Corruption, which evokes disturbances within their DNA that promotes external long-lasting destruction?
These polluted ideas the media sinisterly pumps, the more their smile turns, the more ours become a less innocent one. False power increases with the more sheep they recruit to herd. The evil Shepards of the dark world know weak minds hang on to their every word. I wonder if those sheeple know they have a choice. You can follow the crowd or find your inner voice.
I, like many at a young age, was drilled with the notion you must obey. You can't have that until you do this. You shouldn't say that, God doesn't like disrespectful dirty kids. Taught to be someone I was not and never understood the power of self-thought. Growing in age it's become more clear, everything I was taught was based on someone else's fear. It's these false mantras that have traveled many bloodlines through. It's all the lies our ancestors passed onto us, that I promise you are not true. We don't need a life guidebook to abide by.
The way we choose to live and think is a choice, that should be yours or mine. No social standard or trend will dictate what I do. I will not join the crowd of following people who have no real clue. If you don't break the cycle of doing what they tell us to, then you will never be free from the chains of past ancestral curses and people's fears bestowed on you. I'm choosing to think thoughts of my own and feel things as I should and not the way I was told. It's not going to happen overnight. These are years and years of words I have to rewrite.
Grab a hold of YOUR life, you have the power of choice. Don't forget when you speak to use your voice.
Rob played semi-professional rugby,
From when he was 4 until the age of 21,
When he got a serious spinal cord injury,
Whilst playing that rough game spun.
As part of his rehabilitation sessions,
At Rookwood Hospital, exists in Cardiff,
He played table tennis for his arms,
Which he continued thereafter, his quiff.
That was from 2005, but by ’11’s Euros,
He qualified for London’s Games 2012,
The Paras of tremendous meme flows,
About disability sport, now off the shelf.
But he left lonely and without a medal,
Which made him determined, craving,
So he increased the work and the mile,
He sweat each day, a medal engraving.
He was World No. 6 in 2012, not good,
For him, so he worked on consistency,
And became the Euro Champ good,
In Italy with singles and team tenancy.
In 2015 at the Euros again, in Vejle,
In Denmark, he did the same thing -
Topped the charts with his angle,
In both events - it was plain sailing.
Then, the major victory came in Rio,
The crowd erupted wildly at his win,
Because the tension had been audible,
When he’d wrangled to win gold vin.
I decided today was a good day for a smile
No matter what mood I was in
I went and brushed my teeth twice over
So I would have the shiniest of grins
I stepped out into the dreary overcast morning
Determined not to let it crimp my style
Thinking about all the good that life has handed
Who out there wouldn't break into smile
Most people viewed me with suspicion
Wondering what it was I was up to
I just smiled without any conditions
Even threw in one or two thank you's
After a while people couldn't help but smile back at me
A contagiousness at it's very best
It soon caught on like a wildfire my friend
People smiling where ever they went
Feel free to try this out for yourself
Takes no planning, you can do it right now
All you need is the right attitude along with a grin
Perhaps then the whole world will join us in smile
*My beloved Oval, I fear that my words fall short of what I am feeling in my heart. May you accept these few lines of love as my best effort of expressing my concern for you. I have heard much about you, but I have yet to visit and meet you in person. The pictures of you are rather striking and stunning.
It was during the 90's that I first became gravely concerned about what seemed to me, 'a tarnishing' of your office. Circumstances surrounding your occupants caused a great deal of weeping in my soul. It appeared as if the dark clouds of contamination were setting over you, and determined to drive out the awe and aromatic presence of your enduring reverence. Nevertheless, like the giant I always believed you to be, you came roaring back to a place of renown in the early 2000's. And Oval, it was so good to have you back. A new leader so deserving of your atmosphere took great lengths to restore the sacredness that was so rightfully due. I tell you Oval, the reality of your presence and power is so pervasive that it extends far beyond your palatial walls. For centuries you have adorned the shoulders of presidents in attire befitting their sacred trust.
Again, I stand aghast that I am observing a cloud of low regard for your office. Oval, this concern is not about presidents. More than 40 presidents have sat in your room, but you are still here. Presently, you are the one I am concerned about. It's my duty to speak up for you at this "high tide" of divisiveness.
Oval, in closing, there are many forces parading through our country; and it appears that these opposing forces are conspiring for a 'perfect storm'. Be advised and encouraged that much prayer is also invading the air waves. I see indications that not only shall we prevail and survive, but we shall also thrive because of God's Good Graces and His magnanimous mercies.
09292017 PS Contest, Early October Standard, Brain Strand Personification Form *Oval: The Oval Office in The White House
The sun's a majestic and radiant power
And all it caresses is warmed by its kiss.
It revives each day with a new beginning,
But in evening, succumbs to twilight's dim bliss...
To be bright and radiant as the rising sun,
Yet glow softly as sunset when day is done.
The moon, such a solemn and lonely sphere
Lays like a jewel on the velvet of night;
A defined silhouette on the darkness of sky,
Reflecting a tranquil, but mysterious light...
To be bold and cool as the moon's icy spark,
Yet meek as the shadows that hide in the dark.
A breeze playfully stirs in the fresh morning air
As it travels its way unhindered and free,
At impulse can turn into a gale of a wind,
A determined master of the land and the sea...
To be childlike and free as a soft summer breeze,
Yet impelling and strong as a wind felling trees.
The misty whisper of a drizzling rain,
Quiet and soothing as a gentle hum,
Can become the beat of a different song
With torrential pounding like a jungle drum...
To be gentle and coy as the raindrops of spring,
Yet persevering as a rainstorm's wildest fling.
The crystalline flakes of a snowfall descend
Creating vast blankets of whiteness that gleam,
Superficially masking the time-weathered earth,
A vision to behold, so peaceful and clean...
To be light and fragile as the new-fallen snow,
Yet deep as the earth that is lying below.
Sandra M. Haight
~5th Place~
Premiere Contest: No. 256
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 01/02/2017
~8th Place~
Premiere Contest: 1st Place Only
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 10/23/2016
~1st Place~
Contest: 'Soulidified'
Verlena S. Walker
Judged: 04/06/2015
Toxic behavior, has crossed every border
It’s infecting our youth, this common disorder
Ethics are invariably taught and lettered
Man’s free will is completely unfettered
We pass onto our children how we act and behave
They hear how we talk and watch when we shave
The smallest details are shared and observed
How we treat each other is forever preserved
We need to teach our children the meaning of love
This is far more important than a bat or a glove
We all have a choice to make here today
Learn from our past, or the hatred will stay
Let’s each do our part and teach this truth
Our future is determined by today’s youth
We sailed the seven seas with vinegar in our brains
Singing ingrained sea chanties, with repeating refrains
We did not eat oatmeal, the rats ate all of our grains
We were proud persnickety pirates, there were no kinds of chains
Our parents tried to coax us out of the sea and the rains
But we were determined to make our way past the Great Plains.
We sailed upstream, singing our loud repeating refrains
Did not stop until we got to a whirlpool that changed our lanes.
What are you hoping to accomplish? Can we send you some planes?
Called out our grandparents, who had difficulty with their restrains.
Sorry, we yelled back, singing with gusto our repeating refrains.
But we are sailing the seven seas with vinegar in our brains.
Each evening I sit alone in deep thought,
and stare in wonderment
at constellations without a name;
how many suns, like ours,
are invisible to these stupefied eyes...
how far are they from where I am?
To own a corner of that sky,
I should be much closer to them to shine;
and I must find me a place in this Universe,
become a star so insignificant and unashamed...
beginning to exist among their magnificence!
To go further, where astronauts are guided by stars,
I must have the indomitable spirit of Columbus
and the bold courage of David!
Each morning the resplendent sunrise
awakens me to end my imagined journey...
with consternation and demise;
my pursuit was to inevitably conquer
my fear and not relinquish any possibility...
to penetrate the depths of space
with nothing more than grace...
for a design that I was eager to declare!
To own a corner of that sky,
I must have an insuperable and indisputable faith...
with a determined purpose in mind:
so that doubts wouldn't abound and end my quest!
I am Africa, that old but envied Granny
Since Adam and Eve, I lived many moons
Many greed what the Creator gave me
He crafted me with valuable stones and beauty
He made me natural, proud and virgin
Stamina he gave me to feed my people
Long peace, I dream for my family
I am Africa, that black desired Granny
But I have been pillaged, wounded
My guts and people agonized
My family got split by blizzards
Now I am crying for my generations
Our history has been stolen or buried
But I am tireless to recover it; I am prolific
I am that envied and sleepless Granny
I am saddened foes invaded our land
They are stealing family children to trade them
They resettle them far away in deserts
To sleep, they weave nests in plantations
There I will no more see them
The huts and families they left miss them
Still, I am that courageous and coveted Granny
Although invaders reached our plots
To rape our bodies, souls and lands
We claimed here and there; we were killed
Our blood shed, but we got freedom
We sang, clapped hands and danced for joy
I know my sons are on power
Being that determined wakeful Granny
I thought we could repair the damages
And sing the song of peace universally
Alas, my brood grew Cain and Abel
They started eating one another
Spears and arrows spoke in villages
So I became more morally hurt than ever
And today as we all are around the fire
A reminder to you with a people’s drum
Beat the barrel not to alter our Book
Beat it to eschew hatred and spears
Beat it to trigger committed toil and unity
Beat it for the sun is shining tomorrow
My legacy to you all: RESPECT THE BOOK.
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
Oh, that magical age of 5 -that long-ago time
when memory sharpens and events recalled
get compartmentalized into something more
than mere wisps of mist! Infancy’s vast fog lifts!
My own childhood more vividly recalled began with a country lane
which took my younger sisters and me away from grandpa’s yellow house
past berry bushes and rows upon rows of corn; how happily we meandered.
A year passed. Away from Grandpa’s farm, I got to know new pathways.
These were the streets of my new home city, where my mother remarried.
I walked a labyrinth of new streets, alongside new siblings as well!
In winter’s frigid cold, I’d trudge the many blocks to school and back.
In summer’s heat, my many siblings and I would traipse three mile
just to relish swimming at the pool, licking ice cream cones on our way home.
Poor - but not in spirit - we walked and walked and walked. . .
My 13th year, I walked all my city’s streets selling Christmas cards in summer.
Boils festered on my arms, but I was determined to cover all my town.
That fall, I bought myself a purple bike with the money I had saved.
Another magical year it was! As my life picked up speed,
I left my childhood behind -
pedaling up grueling hills, then racing gleefully down them.
Nov. 28, 2018