Long Enrolled Poems
Long Enrolled Poems. Below are the most popular long Enrolled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Enrolled poems by poem length and keyword.
I was born, Bronx, New York, in the year 'Thirty-Nine',
the first child with a brother who followed in time.
Ten years later, moved North, Hudson Valley, same State
where I've settled, lived on with my loved ones to date.
But when young, in my school, two fine talents emerged,
and my teachers spared hours to encourage my urge.
I enjoyed my young years while I painted and penned;
lots of canvas and paper used up without end.
At eighteen, I then married the love of my life
and enjoyed my new path of becoming a wife
to my US Marine, very handsome and true;
Parris Island, our home for a year, almost two.
By the age twenty-five- was a mother of three;
a fine son, two sweet girls, a complete family.
We worked hard every day and our life was so good.
I wrote poems and painted whenever I could.
Later, painting with oils was the pastime for me-
while I studied for years at an art gallery.
Varied art shows, displays, and a job filled my time.
Soon I sold many pieces and life was sublime.
Yet, the years went by fast and at age thirty-nine,
I enrolled in a college to study part-time.
Six years later, I earned my prized English degree-
a BA—and a Minor in Business for me.
Then my pictures with words replaced those done with art,
and I soon published poems of life and of heart.
Yet along in this time of my great writing spree
I worked hard every day as our business VP.
For a full twenty years, we worked hard faithfully
after hubby retired as the Chief of FD,
selling our fire equipment, all types, big and small
to FDs, factories, district schools, and the malls.
Our dear children all married, with families too,
are involved happily in whatever they do.
Happy grandma of five- twenty-five to eighteen-
and one granddaughter married two thousand thirteen.
We retired, sold our business thirteen years ago,
still so busy with life, with its ebb and its flow.
We are proud and so blessed and thank God up above,
for our days and our life of good times filled with love.
April 11, 2015
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Where Are You From
Sponsor: Joseph Soper
Judged: 08/01/2017
~2nd Place~
Contest: Bio of a Poet
Sponsor: Tammy Reams
Judged: 04/18/2015
Form: Anapestic Tetrameter (12 syllables, 4 feet per line)
From Nabob of Junagarh, of Nizam—
Collecting tax on cotton and the kind,
The taxing job having strained of my calm,
I’d stayed at a quiet place, though haunted
And scary, a lovely place no less still,
Deserted now, it was a grand retreat—
River Suista telling in many ways
Babbling tales through every single pebble,
Leaping like a skillful dancing damsel,
What unforgettable and fateful days!
I still recall that flight of a plenum
Of hundred fifty steps to that river,
A solitary marble palace, plumb
Along the river, and etched as ever
In my mind, ah amid sprawling foothills,
No soul around to whisper of its ills!
The palace, two and half centuries old,
And built by a ruler of Muslim mould,
For private pleasures, luxuries enrolled:
Jets of rose water from fountains spurting
To cool rooms amply made of marbles cold,
Young Persian nymphets there entertaining,
Mohammad the Emperor, too tired, blasé,
Arab maids disheveled before bathing,
Their soft naked feet ‘pon water splashing,
Singing, trying to please him in odd ways,
Whilst wine poured forth as ample as water,
Afar, tears poured forth from a lost daughter.
Fountains no more now found, songs too have ceased,
Nor snow white feet, ever gracefully step
Upon the white marbles that remain cold,
The vast halls filled are with cess collectors,
And men like me oppressed with solitude,
Deprived of warmth o that be womanhood,
My old office clerk had me amply warned,
‘Pass days should you so like, but never nights
if you care', I’d waved him off with a laugh.
Servants agreed to work only till dark,
Which, I ignored, a tusk as a dog's bark.
The house of ill repute spared was by thieves
Like a nightmare, I sneezed at that as well,
And worked hard on long hours till lights grew grey,
Returning at night too jaded and tired,
Sinking deep into bed unto sleep mired.
_____________________________________________
Narrative |01.04.2024|
Note: A poetic translation of Rabindranath Tagore’s story in Bengali: Kshudhaarto Paashaana,
divided in I to XIII parts, largely in blank verse that lapses into rhymes along with its twists and turns. The story is known to have happened during Tagore’s stay at Shaahibaug palace in Ahmadabad, the nearby river Sabarmati becoming river Suista in the story.
When I enrolled in magical school
Ma said good luck
Dad called me a fool
He always thought with my IQ
I’d fix people up,
Not saw them in two.
But I had a vision
And my self esteem
Hung on the balance
Of this simple dream
So I packed my bag
Gave Ma a hug
Reached out to pop
Who said with a shrug
Watch each one of your steps
Cause each one of them matters
When you walk without looking
You’re sure to splatter
So take my advice
It may save your life
You can’t step twice
On thin ice.
I’ll show that man who I can be
With a B.A.
In alchemy
I have no doubt that he’ll be glad
Because my plan
Was ironclad
I bought all my books
Most second hand
I was so ready
To beat the band
But where was my room
Did it disappear?
I’m such a buffoon
Then dad’s words appeared.
If you can’t find your way
Don’t lose your nerve
It’s all a small part
Of the learning curve
So take my advice
It may save your life
Rolling the dice
Is a vice
I tried running down the empty halls
But all the doors
Turned into walls
I shouted a chant, before weeping
‘Allah-Kazow-ee’
To get me sleeping
I dreamed about A’s
The prodigal son
The star of my class
Magic 101
But soon my visions
Became nightmares
I woke and screamed
And if pop was there
He’d say, when in a jam
Take an afternoon nap
Cause a grumpy head
Ain’t worth a crap
So take my advice
It may save your life
To make nice
Sleep twice
At last, I made it to classes
But that first day
I lost my glasses
Teacher assumed I was a jerk
Rewarding me
A week of homework
Then my trick cards turned red
The hare’s sick in bed
The bouquet looked dead
So I called home, and said,
“I’m failing Hocus Pocus
Gotta D in smoke in mirrors
It’s so hard to focus
When all I make is errors
Then dad said with much calm
First give yourself a hand
Before counting on others
And soon you’ll understand
So take my advice
It may save your life
Give yourself a high-five
To survive
So I practiced day and night
‘Till each ‘Abra’
Came out right
And my Presto-Digi-ture
Was more than
Amateur
Then all those D’s
Turned into A’s
Without tricks
I was amazed
Hard work after all
Was a giant step for me
But with dad’s advice
I learned the mystery
Each day is irreplaceable
And comes with a caveat
If you waste its offerings
You deserve just what you get
So take my advice
It may save your life
Being wise
Is the prize
IDENTITY
My Identity’s in question.
Who am I?
What am I doing here on earth?
Oh Jesus, tell me why?
It’s difficult to understand.
My query is “Where will I land?”
I sometimes feel in party mode
And then I crack. A heavy load
Of expectations crush my spine.
I wonder how I’ll ever shine.
The scene looks dark and I despair.
What happens if I enter there?
If I go with the seething crowd
And take the view that’s all around,
The smiling face that’s trouble’s mask?
To find the truth is all I ask.
“And are you now prepared to pay
The price? That’s all I have to say.”
The price? Of truth? I see, you mean
To stand alone in victory’s scene,
And sometimes take derisive news
Right on the chin if that bemuse
Some power-playing man-excuse.
And to respond with love alone.
No curse is uttered. I am one
With Jesus, cursed on hanging tree,
Yet risen, alive and driving me.
The truth alone is worth the fight.
The love behind it shines the Light
Upon the path that I must tread.
It’s love alone provides the bread
That I must feed on. That’s my choice.
I’m singing now. I have a voice!
The truth is worth proclaiming loud.
I stand averse to the liar’s shroud –
That knotted pack of misconstrued
Intros to a life of lewd
Malfunction.
At this junction
I’m decided
I’ve collided
But I’m up again and following
The Mastermind Who, creating
Amazing Life, has won my heart.
So from His presence no depart
Will satisfy the likes of me.
Come walk with me and you can see
That truth is all our hearts beat for,
And Truth is Love. He is the door
To LIFE.
That’s me
I’m loved you see.
And love is all I want to know.
Whatever the cost that’s where I go.
He loves ME!
He LOVES me!
HE loves me!
That’s my identity!
There is in Heaven a scroll
Where my life’s plan’s enrolled.
It’s mine to discover, and mine to find out
It’s mine to fulfil
And Mine to shout.
That’s me.
God knows me
Inside out.
There’s a plan for me
And that’s what I’m about!
I was made for this.
I was made for joy.
I was made to dance,
I was made to sing.
There’s a plan for me and
I’m right here in the ring
To the end. The last day,
When I shout hurray,
Jesus waits for me
His reward in hand.
I’ll persist till I’m there
At the very end
Of the Beginning.
The Rapture
“13 But I do not want you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning those who have fallen asleep, lest you sorrow as others who have no hope. 14 For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who sleep in Jesus. 15 For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord will by no means precede those who are asleep. 16 For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. 17 Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And thus we shall always be with the Lord.” 1 Thess 4:13-17 NKJV
Jesus died and rose again,
As will the righteous in the first resurrection.
With a shout and the voice of an archangel,
All will hear God’s trumpet call to salvation.
They’ll join their Savior in the air;
Followed by those who are alive and remain;
Caught up together in the clouds;
Immortality to forever claim.
Do not sorrow for those who’ve fallen asleep.
For they have hope of tomorrow eternal.
Wipe the tears from your eyes;
Your next meeting by God’s made possible.
When our Lord reveals himself,
Our human frames, He’ll resemble;
The beloved children of God,
By The Rapture will assemble.
In a resurrected and glorified state,
The righteous dead will gaze upon His glory—
Maranatha, come, O Lord;
The Second Coming no longer a story.
The names of those enrolled in heaven,
Will be ticked off upon God’s slate.
Both the virtuous dead and living;
The Gifted eternity to relate.
This Rapture will be no secret—
The whole earth will see Christ come.
Some will cry out for the rocks to fall on them;
By His glory they’re totally overcome.
Christ is a consuming fire
To those who know Him not;
They’ve wasted their opportunities—
The love of God rejected or forgot!
The Rapture completed;
God’s people will ascend
To the heavenly Jerusalem—
One thousand years to spend.
The books will be opened
To judge the unrighteous dead;
Not by God or the heavenly angels,
But by previous mortals instead.
© Copyright 2012 Maureen LeFanue
www.maureenlefanue.com
John F Kennedy said this about the people of East Berlin, "the people of East Berlin are voting with their feet." Hence the land of "eloquent silence." Where people were so afraid of being turned into the state police. They were afraid to speak their minds in a socialistic form of government. For the fear of being turned over for questioning and integration by the communist security police.
In spite of what happened during the Vietnam generation. And in spite of what has been happening in Hong Kong and in Valenzuela young American people are favoring a socialist government. They are censoring freedom of expression as hate speech. Which includes any person who disagrees with you. Yes, racist speech is hate speech! And so is censoring freedom of expression by the term political correctness! Political correctness violates free speech!
Remember the days when it was not politically correct in the United States of America to wish people a Merry Christmas? Cities and town were prohibited from Christmas decorations. Especially if they were religious in nature! They even wanted to ban people from displaying Christmas religious decorations on their lawns. People used terms such as happy holidays and season's greetings and they still do today. Which is fine by me!
When I was younger, Winter break was called Christmas Vacation. And spring break was called Easter Vacation. That changed even when I was enrolled in the public school system. I was either in high school or junior high. When it first took effect. Choirs and bands could not sing religious songs.
The ten commandment and religious monuments were being torn down
by people, who wanted freedom from religion. Cites such as Everett Washington had to fight to keep our ten commandments. By designating it as an historical landmark.
People have the basic right not to believe in God if they want to! That's what freedom of religion is all about. People have the right to believe in God if they want to. People have the right to disagree, and I would like to keep it that way!
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
July 03, 2020
You were born in Clermont, Queensland on December, twenty-four,
Away back circa eighteen sevn'ty-two.
Edward Jones now had a fifth child, whom his dear wife Anna bore,
Their second son and both were proud of you.
They'd migrated out from Ireland back in eighteen sixty-three
And sailed upon the good ship Beejapore.
Landing at Rockhampton harbour in the Queensland colony,
Resettling on a strange and foreign shore.
Childhood days behind you Victor you then joined the work force lad,
Assigned to a gold mining company.
In the range town of Mt Morgan you enjoyed the job you had;
A diligent and loyal employee.
You assisted the paymaster, though you left your posting when
You chose to join your countrymen at war.
For you heard the call of duty and you joined Mt Morgan men
To fight for Queen and country 'gainst the Boer.
Volunteering as a member of the gallant Q.M.I.
You proudly donned that feather in your hat.
First Contingent of B Company you waved this land good-bye,
Enrolled as British troops and went to bat.
Rebel Boers embarked on raiding farms of loyal colonists
In Griqualand west district to the north.
Counter measures were then put in place to stop these terrorists
By sending Pilcher and his column forth.
On the last day of December circa eighteen ninety-three
This force would march from Belmont heading west.
Information was forthcoming as to where the Boers could be
And Ricardo led his party which was soon put to the test.
On the first day of that New Year Victor Jones you lost your life;
They buried you at Sunnyside that eve.
Since that day the world's continued to be filled with war and strife,
So many die for what they do believe.
But the nation recognises that the first Australian
To die upon the battle field was you.
So Mt Morgan folk erected to your memory young man
A monument; the least that they could do.
In the not too distant future Victor, nations may yet see,
How precious all their young men really are.
Then refrain from sacrificing them and let the young men be,
Fine fathers to their families, not memories afar.
We shall over come!
Today, Today!
We shall over come!
Right now! Right away!
We shall always over come!+++
All of us Christians soldiers in the
Lord Jesus Christ!
Are enrolled in the peace keeping
Army of our Lord and Savior,
Jesus Christ! +++
Together, in His Holy name,
We shall become
Victorious! Victorious!
Jesus Christ is Glorious!+++
We shall put on all the Armour
Of our Commander
In Chief
In all these perilous times
Which try our very souls!+++
Which try the souls of men and women!
"With the flag of freedom going on before!
"Going on before!"
(Going on before!)+++
Praying for the resurrection of
Christian liberty and Personal
Religious Freedom in our
Beloved homelands today!++
We are the Lord's own army
Speaking words
Of Spiritual encouragement
Practicing acts of Compassion+++
To all of our
Sisters and our brothers
In the Lord Jesus Christ!
We must pray with all our might!
We must keep the Faith Alive!
We need to unit together as people of
The Lord Jesus Christ: But not
Through riots, looting's, shootings,
Not through acts of Discrimination!
Property destruction! Ruination!
Mayhem and Murder! Weapons
Of Warfare including guns and
Knives etc+++
And acts of insurrection caused by
Acts of Communism! And Acts
Terrorism! But by
Acts of: Courage, Boldness,
Mercy and Kindness!+++
Effectual prayer! And acts of
Holiness, Love and Hope
Faith, Truth, Justice and Joy!
Forgiveness and Encouragement!+++
We are the arms and the legs of Jesus
Christ
Let us use words, thoughts, and deeds
Of bold acts of righteous redemption!
We need to assist and to help people! +++
As we pray for a spiritual rival
In our beloved home lands
Right this very minute in time!
Let us pray for spiritual
Renewal and Restoration!+++
"Spread the Love of Jesus Christ!
All over the world, all around
The world. So others may know
We are Christians by our love,
By our love...+++
In Christ Jesus Holy Name!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy Lea 1954/ October Country
February 15, 2021
"We must love our neighbors as
While rummaging thru papers to shred...
Earlier this November fourth
two thousand and nineteen
your truly long in the tooth
(er...in dentured) wordsmith
rifled thru miscellaneous papers to shred
unwittingly chancing upon
report cards enlightening me,
academic, emotional, social...
characteristics, née significant
figurative "red flags,"
(no not signifying me being blacklisted
re: guarding Communism taking root)
rather teacher's comments
signaled moderate behavioral crisis,
where bass and treble clef acronyms
“Good Boys Do Fine Always”
"every good boy does fine"
respectively analogously noteworthy
(namesake Matthew Scott Harris)
because a lad (in) attendance at:
following primary grade schools:
Audubon Elementary, Eagleville,
and Henry Kline Boyer)
exhibited crushing arduousness
nsync with chronically
profound inability to
acclimate, integrate, participate...
spelling academic difficulty,
alienation, isolation, resignation...
said pronounced mental, physical,
and social perturbations
compounded manifold when promoted
regardless abysmal failing marks
most likely congenital,
vital intervention absent
absolute zero doubt
developmental delay debuted,
since youngest daughter
twenty one February 4th, 2020
diagnosed soon after birth
within autistic spectrum
intervention luckily bridged
yawning, looming, gaping... cleft
less apparent to non family,
she functions admirably
employed at World Market
while enrolled at Bend, Oregon
Community College
relieved healthy maturation
courtesy ability appropriate
custom tailored, (not necessarily swiftly,
nor styled harriedly)
confidence building academic assignments
need based (cost free) tutoring
wrap around at our home,
based speech pathology,
Montgomery County Hospital,
acquiring driver's license,
progressing positively (think)
chronological milestones achieved
mostly on target
boosting self esteem, worthiness
validating benefits, viz palliative care
side stepping severe suicidal
tendency unlike her papa
who permanently stunted his growth.
The following reasonable obsolete rhyme
verst heard in my faux class (sic) lilting brogue
courtesy coronavirus (COVID-19) rogue
wrought approximate sixth month academic hiatus
nevertheless September 1st, 2020
signals resumption of school year back in vogue.
Challenges abound as millions of students re:zoom
trudging off to..., yet another bus comes by... vroom,
whereby administrators establish
virtual and/or actual room
adapt to delegate assignments as reported by newsroom
facilitated by yours truly,
a bonafide married, yet unbridled groom.
Though mind boggling, death defying,
and harrowing scenario daring to crisscross
(dangerous information highway road)
will confront those most qualified to teach
impressionable minds to overload
nevertheless I envy those learning
courtesy high tech mode.
Golden (gated) opportunity
spectacularly presented to bridge,
kickstart, and buttress young minds
immodestly excited and
amenable to learn online
one old googly eyed
aging pencil necked geek
makes his poetically cameo appearance
crafting awareness about severe complication
hash-tagging those best equipped to teach,
which alternatives pinterest me
linkedin, trumpeted nsync with
tried and true methodology
(think white/blackboard
with markers and/or chalk respectively),
who by the way never got chosen to
clap erasers outside,
fold flag ditto after said
emblematic sanctified cloth unfurled,
nor serve as safety patrol.
Though born within baby boom generation,
I horrendously (nobly) struggled
to acquire cognitive consonance
floundered like a fish out of water
forever barely achieving passable grade
He readily attests de facto failure
if hypothetically enrolled in kindergarten today,
I would get demoted to preschool
(a slight bit of hyperbole),
thus both laments abysmal track record,
whereby attending conventional
schools of hard knocks
(situated within Lower Providence district)
emotionally fracturing psyche
until this very waking moment,
and moost likely mine
remaining tenure on Earth.