Long Exempt Poems
Long Exempt Poems. Below are the most popular long Exempt by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Exempt poems by poem length and keyword.
There's no greater gift that given life could ever offer
A force to be reckoned with in every form is she and her
They should be cherished and loved in every aspect
For what they bring to the table deserves Humanities respect
All are trusted by creation once a month to recreate life
Their counterpart gets 180 million chances with every attempt
History has never adequately revered them it's pattern has known nothing but their strife
So, on this International Day of honoring my words, hold it accountable, nothing exempt
I've devoted my life to respecting and honoring them in every way that I can
There is no creature more beautiful, more irreplaceable, more undeniable than a woman
Four pages of parchment to write a constitution;
Relief bills numbering 5,593 is tyranny; not a solution.
It is high time the tyrants in Washington,
Sat down, shut up, and lay down their guns!
Please do not think this to be hyperbole.
For here it is, the very reality.
Not to blow governments cover;
But they’ve found more ways to tax us than to leave your lover.
Every day we live, we must pay governments bill.
Even after we die, they are taxing us still.
When I looked at it, I did discern,
Government will confiscate over half what I earn.
This is not freedom.
This is serfdom.
I believe this, a quite apt explanation.
We are all slaves on government’s plantation.
Now all across the U.S.A.
I envision a better way.
We shall end the imperial presidency,
Along with judicial tyranny.
We will give no more quarter,
To rule by executive order.
We will remove the repugnant stench,
Of judges who legislate from the bench.
Congress shall pass no law in the land;
Then exempt their own merry little band.
Enacting a form of balanced budget protection,
Any Congress that fails shall be banned from running for re-election.
Borders are defended in all situations.
Anything less is surrendering to invasion.
Citizen’s vote!
Aliens don’t!
We will all be just humans;
As we end the delusion;
That the color of one’s face;
Makes them from a separate race.
Military service and taxes are both voluntary.
We shall have liberty, in ways revolutionary.
The garbage man who hauls my trash away.
Can plan to own the company one day.
The auto worker constructing my ride,
Makes it right, because of their pride.
Chefs prepare meals like they were eating it.
Builders build homes like they were buying it.
Teachers teach, preachers preach, doctors heal, lawyers make deals;
The carousel of progress moves forward for real!
3-26-21 C
The DJ plays wrong songs
for greens
and blues,
blacks and browns,
yellows
and opaquely sacred matriarchal reds,
both natural
and spiritual
progressive parties too all-encompassing
to quickly divest
of octave ageless ending
beginning right with left footed again.
DJ
never learned to dance outdoors
naked
or even organically half-dressed
to impress,
To preach
devolved true meaning,
That pro-life
could not mean pro-death of leg-spread liberal mothers,
whether of their own freedom-loving will
or rapaciously patriarchal
repressing otherwise.
To ride RightMind waves
of cooperative
integral
holonic
MotherEarth primal relationship
revolving sacred DJ spin,
Earth's harmonic resonating song.
DJ left MotherEarth
and sanctity behind
To buy Her up and app,
and inappropriately sell Her
to the highest patriarchal bidder
buying passive market space
margins against Matriarchal
time resilient potential winners.
Quick gaming gains
deep darkly hidden chaos cash valued
exempt from environmental co-relationship
becoming an oxymoron
like capitalist intelligence.
DJ learned his Ego
is his ZeroZone
with no remaining outdoor cherished vision
for realistic Rainbow ReStoring Warriors
replaying LP progressive folk tunes
and stand up EarthRooting improv
for voters and investors
prepared to deeply listen
for outside health committed learning
democratic well-being
constitutional swearing
to spin out greener DJs
with 2020 revolutionary vision.
Eyes of fire,
eyes of light;
searing through the darkest night.
Ancestral eyes watching,
from black skies;
guide descendants on their way.
Stars see it all;
souls rise or fall
and the records bulge with secrets.
Akashic files,
in oaken aisles;
are waiting to be read.
What each man learns,
will be discerned; when death’s claws,
make their final grasp.
Each soul repeats,
as each lifetime seeks,
to get a second chance.
As a soul grows,
we all are told,
we only get one chance.
But, it’s not true;
all souls renew;
reincarnate from their past.
God is not vile;
instead is mild;
loving to the last.
It’s to man’s discredit;
never to let it be known;
till death comes swift and fast.
The book we write,
with every life;
the choice we’re free to make.
To fail ourselves;
records are shelved;
Metatron, the librarian knows…
No one’s exempt,
though all attempt,
to erase their blotchy past.
We face, head on,
the deeds we’ve done;
and pray, God’s mercy lasts.
Notes that float on rippling strings are happy little gems.
Clicking, clacking percussion crescendos;
a celebration of a percussion family reunion
is never quiet.
Music all around, loves and revels in life’s joy.
The heartbeat of a universe bangs, clangs with elation.
Beneath shouts of the crying woodwinds;
whispering ting-ting symbols dance with the brushes; lending a smile to the symphony.
The melodious river flows across airwaves to life
and carry souls; the magic carpet of harmony;
a world tour for the senses,
is enlightenment for all ears.
No one is exempt from the ecstasy of music;
even non-hearing ears are treated to
the tickle of vibrational light, sound.
Let your soul dance with the senses.
My dream vacation flies me to the Holy Land
where my Saviour spent His earthly existence sublime…
There in Bethlehem, I will behold the Emmanuel’s humble birthplace
and be seized with gripping condescension-pangs
cognizant that the glorious King of kings in His fleshly nature
was a “babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger*
having farm animals as first greeters and jubilant shepherds as guests.
Then I will bask under the azure sky while visiting the Jordan River
to witness by faith the baptism of Jesus Christ, manifesting the Triune God
with the Holy Ghost descending “in a bodily shape like a dove upon him…”
and be awed by God the Father’s voice out from a bright cloud saying
“This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; hear ye him.”**
Surely, I will delight to venture out to the Sea of Galilee
where the Lord calmed the storm with His “Peace be still”***
as well as in the Garden of Gethsemane and be drawn to persist with Him
in His supplication-struggle, since “in an agony he prayed more earnestly:
and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.”
Oh, I will trek along Mt. Calvary where the Redeemer ascended
to be crucified for mankind’s salvation, freeing sinners from damnation
and be grateful for His glorious assertion, “It is finished.”****
Never will I exempt the Garden Tomb to worship the Almighty with praise
and be enthralled with the assertion: “He is not here; He is risen.”*****
By the grace of God
I claim for fruitful seeds
as this dream vacation blossoms.
*Luke 2:12; **Luke 3:22; ***Mark 4:39; ****John 19:30; *****Matthew 28:6.
March 21, 2022
5th place, "MY DREAM VACATION" Imagism Poetry Writing Premiere Contest Sponsored by L MILTON HANKINS; judged on 4/1/2022.
Too Soon
Do very youthful men and women fret
About the ill success of dreams they’ve dreamt?
They barely have begun to even whet
Their lust for life! I think they are exempt
a mere while yet from lessons to be learnt.
They’ll bill and coo before spring season’s spent.
Then soon, and summer-touched, they will be burnt.
And finally, they’ll look back and lament
how weariness, like fog, has come to fall
upon them from a drizzly sky once gold
with April’s hope and not November’s pall.
Beneath Spring’s gilded skies, their growing old
is but a road stretched far in front of them.
Too soon will come cold winter’s requiem.
(Below is the poem that inspired it)
“Age” by Sara Teasdale
Brooks sing in the spring
And in the summer cease;
I who sang in my youth
Now hold my peace;
Youth is a noisy stream
Chattering over the ground.
But the sad wisdom of age
Wells up without a sound.
Surly you have put
your word to pen
the winds have carried them
have dispersed them upon the globe
the game pieces are in place
and the populace lives under
dense clouds of darkness
though not awake aware of determinations
a war machine
funded with flesh and gold
as oxen under yoke
who have no say in what their masters plow
They HAVE been forewarned
surly your WORD has come full circle
you have called out the future
and given knowledge of fortresses
battlements and shields
The 1st WAR your minds
The 2nd WAR your hearts
The 3rd WAR your flesh
the full destruction of corruptions
Surly your intentions have
been fully shown for any knowing
the instructions of the King
but they have been led astray
and loved to have it that way
You keep sending your servants
the watchmen who view into distances
to tell what was far off has come close
The Temple and the Bride
are nearly completed
the invitations to all the guests
not one single soul is exempt
of participation
freewill will have a whole new meaning
you can choose the royal law of Life
or be driven off the cliffs
by unruly angels
because the ideology of WAR
and fear driven by rulers
whose behavior is so corrupt
that we liken them to being demonic
Come now where is your reason
that you should choose WAR
over the avenues of peace
everywhere you turn is a sign
and it says beware
wake up wake up wake up
before you sleepwalk
into death
COPYRIGHT © 2012 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
School wastes my time
I want to be President
I want power and prestige.
I want to be able to be mean to the handicapped
I want to be able to snatch children from their parents
I want to disregard every law that was ever created as a check or balance
I want my children exempt from those laws too
Wonderful that America’s youth is learning this
Taught by those who advocate the wonderfulness of
Our antiquated voting system – namely the Electoral College
Which insures we will never be a democracy
On Memorial Day especially I weep for the men and women
who died for this country not realizing we are a republic
And even if they had lived long enough to vote,
their vote would not have counted if they lived in the wrong state
or if their state representative decided to vote their way instead of their constituents way.
I am sick of the corruption I see
I did not want either candidate last time
But I certainly did not want the person who made fun of others
More importantly I think everyone’s vote should have an equal chance.
An obnoxious man in Texas
Strode into a Trader Joe’s
With his children and no masks
To cover any mouth or nose.
Though employees tried to stop him,
He refused to heed the rules,
Spouting much misinformation
To those he considered fools.
One excuse he loudly flaunted
Was his “disability,”
Claiming he was thus exempt
From laws applied to you or me.
Now, some problems may be hidden;
That’s a known and noted fact
That’s included in the ADA,
A governmental act.
But I really liked this comment
Someone made about his rant –
Merely acting like an a*****e
Doesn’t special status grant.