Long Elect Poems

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


Premium Member The Lord Knows Best

God calls for submission supreme
that His elect bow before His feet
recognising their Lord knows always
the right thing to do His treat

No matter how our life turns
even when we think it’s so bad
our mood feels desperately bleak
turn to one that makes our heart glad

This is our God majestic above
who comes down to us on earth
brings conviction upon our sinful souls
opens our hearts for our spiritual birth

Our Lord shows us important lessons
that His way is always the best
so it’s better to leave it all to Him
just bow in His presence and  rest

(‘God always gives His best to those who leave the choice with Him'. - Jim Elliot )(1927-1956)
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Einstein

Albert Einstein was renowned as the greatest scientist of the 20th century.
In fact one of the greatest scientists in history but though he was a brilliant scientist he was not perfect. He was a flawed human being like the rest of us.
He was not only responsible for developing the theory of general relativity but advancing the law of photoelectric effect.
This won him the Nobel Prize and he became the physicist elect.
He contributed much to the philosophy of science and today many on his theories are still reliant, but as a husband and father he miserably failed.
He seemed most uninterested in what it entailed. 
His oldest son once said the only thing Einstein ever gave up on was him.
He married twice but they were both filled with cares,
For Einstein preferred to have simple short affairs.
Though his personal life was a shambles, as a scientist no one held a candle to this little man whose brilliance out shown any and all other scientists known.
But in this instance Einstein was not alone for through history it has been shown that most geniuses have trouble dealing with people.
John Stachel once said ,"Too much of an idol was made of Einstein. He was not an idol he was just a human being and that is much more interesting."
© Judy Ball  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member How Do You Say

HOW DO YOU SAY

How do you say, the he is a stranger, 
how do you say? 
How do you warn of imminent danger, 
How do you say? 
With smiles of charm, he'll win their trust, 
Not the soul of a man, not one of us, 
Deceived the nations, Abominations, 
How do you say.

How do you say, he’s the deceiver, 
How do you say? 
Will even fool elect believers, 
How do you say.
Dreams from the God of many waters,
Poured out on Sons and Daughters, 
Eye on the Sparrow, straight and narrow, 
How do you say.

How do you say, Angels pronouncing, 
How do you say? 
Against the name of Christ, 
he'll lead the denouncing,
How do you say.

Cursing all God deems as holy,
To rid the meek and the lowly,
The Abyss was opened, 
the realm of the spirit was broken, 
Let none of mine, be left behind, 
How do you say.

What You See Ain’t What You Get

Over in the alley, 
a black man’s just walking.
He was trying his best,
to make it through the day.

While around the corner,
some banker is stealing. 
So whose neck you think they’re,
gonna kneel on today.

There’s so many people, 
with not enough to eat.
But the farmers must dump,
all their crops on the ground.

While rich folks keep laughing,
at poor people suffrin’.
Just try to stand up and,
watch ‘em kick you back down.

Foreign countries control, 
greedy politicians.
All the oil and the land, 
and the money we need.

Yet in innocence we,
believe America.
Is still home of the brave,
and the land of the free.
 
Freedom don’t mean nothin’, 
just a word on paper.
A word we let become,
much too foggy and blurred.

Just go and take a look,
down there in the gutters.
See them soldiers that gave, 
arms and legs for that word.

They fought to preserve those,
words penned by our fathers.
So old white men can’t keep,
the poor people oppressed.

Now, who will stand up for, 
those that are rejected.
Sorry to say they’re just,
out of luck I guess.

What you end up with are, 
people that are working.
From sunrise to moon and, 
then back the other way.

Just to make a few coins,
jingle in their pocket.
To buy some food to make,
them feel good for a day.
 
So hurry up there boy, 
give his ass a licking.
Before he lays off a, 
couple thousand good men.

The wages he’ll save will, 
make him a nice bonus.
So that he can avoid, 
paying taxes again.

We can march and protest,
just as much as we want.
It ain’t never going,
to change a God damn thing.

In another four years, 
the rich folks will gather.
To start spreading their hate, 
and lies over again.

So that they can elect,
one more politician.
Who will trick you into,
thinking he’s working for you.

But all the while they will 
be stuffing their pockets,
With gold for doing what, 
rich folks tell them to.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Kakistocracy

It's hard to maintain a strong democracy
when people elect a kakistocracy.
To those who believe in "America First":
your government now consists of the worst.

The POTUS must be cruel and cockeyed
choosing a cabinet of the least-qualified.
Only someone vile and obscene
would select a Health Secretary who is anti-vaccine.

And the Education Secretary must be stunned:
she actually refers to AI as "A One"!
But then, a man with a history of disorderly conduct
would choose sycophants who are cracked and corrupt.

The new definition of stupid
is accepting those who are unsuited,
knowing the truth and seeing it with your own eyes,
but still believing the hype and the lies.
© Jim Healey  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Pain At the Pump

Ah! For the good old days when you could fill the tank for a dollar.
If folks paid more'n a quarter a gallon, my, how they'd holler!
Nowadays, it necessitates a usurious loan from the bank,
Or a second mortgage on the house, just to fill the tank!

Politicians piously claim they can feel our pain at the pump.
Well, I don't know about that, but it sure makes me grump!
I can only shake my fist and vent my rage at Conoco and Shell,
Sinclair, Diamond, EXXON, Phillips and the entire oil cartel!

Oil companies make huge profits and give their CEOs a bonus,
But on the backs of us working stiffs is placed a taxing onus!
"Elect Me!" promise the politicians, "and I'll guarantee relief!"
We've heard that old saw before - it usually means more grief!

I doubt that the moose, caribou or elk really give a hoot,
Should drilling be allowed in Alaska in our oil pursuit!
Nor would sharks, barracudas or moray eels be at all offended,
If we set up rigs and drilled offshore as some have recommended!

Alas, the price of a barrel of oil continues to rise each day,
And us fellers at the end of the pipeline are the ones who pay.
In suspending gas taxes for a spell, I see very little merit.
The only solution for our plight I guess, is just to grin and bear it!

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

Self Elected Puppets

Where are the medicine men and women we could always trust
Have they all disappeared turned into dust

Replaced by snake oil salesmen dishing out pills
Hear the ringing of their over filled tills

And the despot leaders who elect themselves
Spoon feed on lust,greed,deception
Glorifying themselves with royal reception

Raping and draining the citizens who had no say in their election
Where are the surgeons to perform their dissection

Where is the democracy in picket lines in choosing between heating or eating,
Sanctioning your own citizens all based on a lie filling their minds with fantastic illusion

And the bear doesn't care.
Form: Rhyme

Elegy To the Uyghur Khaganate

O Glorious and Wise Empire of the East 
Slaughtered by cold winter’s wrath and the azure dragon 
For this world had no place to lay your gentle head 
Your monasteries of light now some mists of black soot 
Your masterful art now mere fragments burned by flames 
Your songs to the sun and moon now dead whisps of the wind 
Your glory was a brief shooting star in the night 	

You were a holy mountain, with rivers flowing 
Rivers with elect sailing to the four ends of the world  
Where trees and flowers sang songs of liberation 
With your horses’ galloping being the sweet tune of life 

Whispers of your bravery and wisdom still resound today 
Your treasure, in the dragon’s nest, waiting to shine again 
May another white shooting star enlighten the world again 
O you Sovereign and Glorious Empire of the East
Form: Elegy

Premium Member Happy New Year Seventeen

Happy New Year Seventeen
By Franklin Price
1/1/2017

Happy New Year seventeen. Sixteen has reached its end.
It's over and it's done with, there's nothing to append.
Seventeen's upon us, sixteen was somewhat grim.
We must stop treading water and begin again to swim.

There's lots of blame to go around, for what is in the past.
What say we work together, to get something done at last.
We're supposed to be self governing, not ruled by royalty.
Let us start in seventeen, to make it how it ought to be.

Participate in politics, interject what you believe.
Keep the politicians honest; the ones who practice to deceive.
The president elect, wants to make us great again,
To fight him, not assist him, would be a governmental sin.

Make all the red lights turn to green; with a caution here and there.
Throw the flag, and call a penalty, when the playing is not fair.
Help make this year the best we've seen, in this (new?) century.
We the people, with God's help, can make it how it ought to be,.

Make this year the best you can for yourself and family.
Try to work with others to make us who we ought to be.
Forget about the parties, whose agendas are not right.
Help to bring us from the dark and out into the light 

May you personally be happy and healthy in your life
Have the necessary means to minimize your strife,
A safe place for your family,  necessities you need,
But not so much, you're overcome, by unnecessary greed.
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Easy Pickings

People voted for chaos:
democracy is struggling.
Worldwide ideologies lean far right:
dictators, potentates, and tyrants rule
unconstrained by any semblance of law.
Our youth don't know real war:
nor what their fathers fought for.
Politicians sell fear, packaged as hope,
through accusations and false promises,
till the downtrodden elect their jailers.
Like sheep to a hungry wolf:
weak minds are easy pickings.
I've lived in a bubble of misplaced trust;
out of touch with the anger of our youth,
ignoring the homelessness on our streets.
But bubbles pop over time:
and illusions, get exposed.
Aggressive nations are pushing for war
and allies align, as they've done before;
fueled by pure propaganda and greed.
I hoped I’d never see war:
but, I fear, one is coming.
Form: Verse

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