Long Discriminating Poems

Long Discriminating Poems. Below are the most popular long Discriminating by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Discriminating poems by poem length and keyword.


CALAMITY

I didn't compare 
Neither did I compete 
I'm always in my lane
Yet they're always against me
Steadily plotting my ruin
Just to humiliate and rule over me.

Steadily, they attack 
My self confidence 
Trying to tame or break me
Steadily them be bullying 
Giving me all sort of names
Trying to shame me
They ain't my maker
So I'm unshakeable and unbreakable.

My mistakes
Their empowerment 
They all act like they're perfect 
Steadily discriminating me
Causing calamity in our country 
Ruining our unity 
Forgetting United we stand
They mislive and misaligned 
Just for instant gratification and selfish goals.
Form: Epic


Chalk Life

Chalk Life

White chalk against the black board of life etches out 
A soul that has no molecules to do so viably
Like a virus that has no real life of its own
Must seek out something else to define solidity in being
A hand to grasp what it is or it is not
Chalk can not talk
Is that discriminating?
Some say it is not as interesting as a man
A hand must move it along the edges of the mind
Be kind to your chalk when you are talking
Philosophy is not chalks favorite subject
Black chalk on black boards is even harder
To read into the state of being human
Something we can say definitively
Chalk is not

Voice of a Dalit Women

now hear the unheard cries
of dalit women plight
upper caste takes pride
humanity here despise
seeing the cruelty dies
of high caste females crucify
mercilessly their own gender 
in the name of caste blunder
mutely supporting the plunder
of dalit women, who wonder
the silence of own gender
on the sight of femininity
in the board day light
paraded naked in their own vicinity
raped, ravished and trampled
no doubt upper caste femininity
is skin deep only
else they would have fought
for their feminine right
to live life free of fright
alas! they are caste blind
to see their mutual bind
feminists too are not so kind
to raise voice against the crime
awfully ignores humiliating death
suffered by dalit women daily
story of dalit women is grim
suffers discrimination all time
as a female and a lower caste being
though struggling through adversities
if succeed to come out of the rim
aristocrat high caste vultures deem
her hopes nothing but dream
ever preying on her virtuosity
that dominates their caste superiority
arising dalit women suffers subtly
high caste people discriminating policy
based on caste as well gender inferiority
where majority prays and swears by female deity
but treat dalit women mere commodity
nation egotist in its democracy
fails to notice caste discrepancy
dalit women should now be their own saviors
pursue the legacy of Savitribai Phule and Dr. Ambedkar
be educated, be united and agitate
© Rahul Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

WALK, TALK

Tick tock says the clock
Time to 
Walk, talk, 
exact
pain or gain
says the clock
Pray you don't fall prey
slack mouth lacks
Wanting no seizing
From season to season
No reason for ridicule
A reason for a silence
Resilience, shame
Tamed fame, no frame
Fascinating



Pain; Playing victim
All time while 
medicine to heal
Ease on you

Gain; Territory expands
Gratitude and love
Yield bountifulness


Walk; In others 
Others walk
So in you
Clothes covers scars
Lay your bed
So you lay on it


Talk; To others
Others talk
So to you
Respect is
To be 
Reciprocated

Prey; Begging for attention
To be valuable
Discriminating
Unaware of self
Uniqueness

Slacking; Unused brain
Speaking 
clones
laziness
Instead 
Observing
Flapping
flutter's you

Lacking; Self confidence
Discipline
Brings denials
Attaining
Acquiring
Restricted

Wanting; Instant gratification
Losing focus
Settling for anything
Granted desires

Seizing; Always consistent
Taking without 
Reciprocating
Updated version
Of snatcher
Swiftly
snitches get stitches

Season; goes around
Comes around giving
What you gave
Relentlessly
Unapologetic-ally

Reason; for living
Decision to make
Consequences
You see clear
Before 
Action
Reaction

Ridicule; Bulling the bull
Ought 
Take by horn
A worthwhile 
Ride
Love don't cracks
Ego does
Pride
Sacrifice
Power

Silence; smooth in action
Fast
soundless in nature
Powerful
Creation 
Liberation
Hesitation

Resilience; Attitude say all
Gratitude
Gateway
Misfortune
Gave
Up

Shame; Indifference
passableness
Gain
Pains
Mindset matters
Time reviews

Tamed; trained 
easier to control
Master no craft
Slave to others
self motivations
Survival mood

Fame; Without integrity
notability
Important
Dishonest
Division
Seekers


Frame; Physically portraying
Building 
Lies
Manipulating
Minds
CLONES
Do as I say
actions matters

Fascinating; Alluring contents
Preys are so lovely
Be aware 
Devourer
Insatiable

Bird eats ants
Ants eats birds
Live or die
Talk to inspire
Walk to heal
Says the clock.
Form: Englyn

Premium Member The Challenge of Eating French Onion Soup

My favorite dining place in town is a place called La Baguette.
'Tis a quaint French café and I haven't found its equal yet.
They serve the most scrumptious French onion soup west of Gay Paree,
And it is slurped by discriminating snobs as well as we bourgeoisie!

They serve other grub such as baguettes and burgundy beef stews,
Escargot, pate, salad maison and an assortment of cheese fondues.
And Monday through Friday they ladle bowls of soup du jour,
But each and every day they serve French onion soup for sure!

Eating French onion soup is a challenge and requires a bit of skill,
Especially, dealing with the stringy cheese in that delectable swill.
The glob of provolone clings like a boa constrictor to my spoon,
And dangles from my noble chin making me look somewhat like a goon!

De mal en pis (just when my dilemma has gone from bad to worse),
Faire bonne mine (to put a good face on matters) I tend to curse.
To save face, next time I'll ask the waiter, "S'il vous plait (if you please),
I'll have a bowl of your French onion soup sans that stringy cheese!"

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt,USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member The Weeping Moon

Witnessing the blood baths, the massacre
Of God’s people, children’s bodies everywhere,
And octogenarians expire slowly and quietly in horror.
The undistorted and the vivid images of terror,
The ugly realities of life for millions; what a rancor!
The large plumes of gray phosphorus smoke! There is nowhere
To hide. Showers of shrapnel, unprecedented heavy shellings,
White clouds of death and discriminating lynchings
Of everything that breathes, walks, runs and flies;
This is war, this is sheer terrorism! The God-flies;
Where are they when they are needed?
Our world should not be so muted,
So insensitive toward so many.
This is a shameful disaster, a pity…
To do nothing and hope for the awakening of the gods;
The worms, the flies, the rats and the tods
Must be happy. What an inhumane feast!
In this young century, we cannot find Peace.
The photos are real, and dying is not a joke.
The lenses of the camera recorded the blood soaked
Pregnant women, their babies shredded
By the wrecked fires of the big guns.
No one is spared: fathers, mothers, sons,
And even young girls are arrested,
Humiliated, stepped on and eventually annihilated.
This is the state of our human family.
Centuries old victims are now the perpetrated
Beasts that devour nymphs, angels and dignity.
The moon can only helplessly weep,
The gods and the geese are high by the burning bodies.
Terrorism is your vocation; falling asleep,
Amid this, is criminal, we should unequivocally denounce the bullies.
Big gun shipped helicopters can only destroy; they don’t make Peace,
H bombs only create more activists, more militants and more beasts.

Copyright@ January 2009, Hebert Logerie All Rights Reserved
Form: Rhyme

Little Deeds of Kindness Would Be Like

Kindness comes when we value each life with care
And not discriminating them with mocking stare

I have studied in psychology regarding ripple effect 
where in the act of compassion has contagious connect

My neighbour feeds the dogs regularly with biscuit's
Showing poignant gesture without short circuit's

When any of our family member comes home from office
Must fetch a glass of water without behaving like a wallace

When our pals are lost and struck in a state of delirium
Need to empathise and impart cheers through elated medium

If we catch a sight of elderly people standing in the bus
Must lend them our seats without creating a fuss

Reviewing poems of poets and poetess must nudge glory
Shouldn't be biased erroneously with the mull of envy

When one is crippled & wrapped with darkness
Lending shoulder of support portrays the flash of kindness.

9-6-2020

Note: Kindness Poetry contest
Sponsor:Regina Riddle.
© V. Deepa  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Christian Patriots Yearning To Be Free Part Five

Listen to the words of Q 
He knows the real deal
And he can educate you

“It is appalling that each 
and every one of you sitting up there as human beings, 
part of the human race,

 the only race that we have,
 would suggest to muffle people, 
to put masks on your face 
to keep us from breathing oxygen, 
to get us to become sickly.”

“There’s not enough [COVID] to make it a pandemic. 
This is a planned-demic.”
A Chinese bioweapon
Launched to take down our great president
And you know it
Yet do nothing about it

“If masks work for you, 
or if you think they do, wear one,”

“Don’t impose your opinion 
on those who disagree. 
Each one can chose whether 
they will wear one or not. 
Each one lives with the consequence.”

“Discriminating against certain groups of people 
while exempting others
 is a violation of your civil rights,”

Following World War II, we Jews said ‘Never Again.’…
 In Germany, Poland, and across Europe 
we were forced to wear a gold star, 
told to get on a box car to be taken to a safe place. 

In reality, what happened? 
If we forget history, we are doomed to repeat it.”
“This is not about health, 
this is about submission.”

“Well, guess what, the riots are spreading, too!”
And what the hell are we going to do about that?

 We’re going to arrest patriots 
for not wearing a mask? 
That’s what you want?”
“And I say Trump 2020!”
© Jake Aller  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Remember, Remembrance

Remember yesterday
Remember the old days
Remember what we used to say
Remember the plays
Oh! We shall never forget
Because we are not set yet
Remember the luscious trips
Remember the hot lips
Remember the posh hotels
Remember the teeny motels
Oh! We shall not go into details
Oh! Remember the tattletales
Remember, remembrance
Of the good stuff and the nonsense
Remember, remember
When we were younger
Now we’re older, smarter
And wiser, we act dumb and dumber
Nobody knows why that we are like that
Thank God, we’re still normal and not fat
Like the strangers and the neighbors who are spying
And harassing us from winter to spring
Remember the good and bad times
That’s life. That’s letting the words and the rhymes
Flow like streams and rivers in autumn
The yellow leaves swim and slide per ton
Remember everything without discriminating
As we ponder, wonder, sigh, dream, and sing
And swing apart somewhere
Remember, remember.

Copyright © August 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Be Wary of the Neat Freak

When I am visiting a house
with no cobwebs or dust
I know for a fact
this is not someone to trust;
For if they meticulously clean
every single cranny and nook
then I am sure they examine me
with too discriminating a look.

You see, I myself have a cobweb or two
tucked into the corners of my soul;
And dust has gathered on some memories of mine;
that’s what happens when you get old.
That white glove they use around the house
to make sure everything is just fine,
would be soiled and dirty and covered in dust
if they swiped it in that house of mine.

Now I don’t mind things being clean and neat;
In fact, I prefer it that way;
But to remove every cobweb and each particle of dust,
Well, to me, that has something to say.
It says imperfections, you won’t tolerate,
and imperfections are all that I have;
so if I see not a cobweb – way up in a corner
and not one single speck of dust
then I will kindly excuse myself from your way-too-clean house,
because for me, those things are a must.


Written about Cobwebs and Dust for Francine's contest
Written and posted on 3/6/12

Aaaaachooooo!
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.

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