Long Faire Poems
Long Faire Poems. Below are the most popular long Faire by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Faire poems by poem length and keyword.
He who seeks pain for pleasure is a real aboriginal,
Runs slowly yet leads subservient to international.
He who has a mental condition stable aberrational
And is clearly confused for his rule over junior biennial.
Is such one busy doing nothing our leader fictional?
Believes has virtual reality and qualities supernal;
Worries by relaxing, is a truly called stupid sentinel
Off laissez faire causing democracy death prenatal.
He is the original copy; autocracy does he disannul.
Is such one busy doing nothing our leader nominal?
Babbles less on many topics but talks lot notional;
Real oxymoron, a worthless gold is a role fictional.
Such a stupid, such dark snow acts like nocturnal
And wishes us follow him like a true myth tensional.
Is such one busy doing nothing our leader attritional?
As little pain hurts none, such nonentity optional
Is singly double natured like oxymoron is binational.
Such a tiny elephant of no use is a leader sectional,
Unlike Modi or Mahatma who is pretty fierce finagle.
Is such one busy doing nothing our leader supernal?
A rightly deceitful leader propagates worries parental
Agony, by loving humanity loathing persons is menial.
Is such afunctional leader be only choice? Oh! Marginal!
An open secret for such leaders, this Monorhyme is a signal.
Is such one busy doing nothing our leader eternal?
I can't believe you don't believe
we just rolled passed your fenced in home
But we left something behind
People looking and thinking if we're their kind
I feel like a clown
Then you pretend We're not around
People know where they are
Savoir faire the only suite to wear
The demands of workers
Silent pockets of greedy corporations
You can reach down you'll be found
Knee deep in butterfly farts
How can I stand behind him
Memories of alien foot prints
Deep in the woods
Where only I exists
A man called many things but not called you
Different times of his life
Like chickadees mobbing a blackbird
Dont lean on me
I stand half fallen
Being torn from my beliefs
Seeing nothing come out
The machine is not working
They don't dance anymore
But its just like nothing happened
I don't want to be part
Part of this shadow
Part of a life
That knows kind
But won't ever find time
We got too much pride
It's just another day
To make money do what you may
And let no rules come in your way,
Capitalism blares
As laissez-faire declares
Wild ways to thievery,
Packaged nigh cleverly
For robber barons of today,
Who should look in mirror
To reflect on error
And ponder, made they are of clay.
____________________
Happenings |19.11.2024|money, business, mirror
Poet’s note: US, who has charged an Adani company of financial misdeeds, needs to look into its own history of capitalism. The first two lines of this ditty talk of what laissez-faire was and still largely is. A list compiled in 1934 named 26 robber barons (a German term for knights who charged illegal tolls from travellers along with other forms of thuggery). The list includes Andrew Carnegie, JP Morgan, and John D Rockefeller-- who later turned philanthropists and promoters of art to earn rubber stamp of public approval. The country reminds us of a cat on a pilgrimage:
Upon killing hundreds of mice,
A cat is out to wash her vice,
On holy pilgrimage
To pop up her image,
Poor mice paying her laundry price.
Das dada = codified bonafide anachronism
me thoughts infused
with thom hankering for yesteryear
circa antebellum i.e.
American Civil War era veer
rilly, teetering, smoldering, rumbling
upon iniquitous tier
United States greenacres crossroads
with petticoat junction spear
ritually hexed courtesy anti abolitionists
pitted against unfair
slavery, yours truly spellbound
gravitating, fixating, entrancing,
an invisible sonneteer
disembodied spirit transported
back in time,
qua closing first decade
of twenty century aware
how historical events will unfold,
yet lacking means
to affect alternate outcome,
though yearning to spare
fledgling democracy deaf to blare
ring coming fury me unseen
relishing preponderant naiveté
and childlike innocence
before internecine warfare
many stripling young lads,
yet to sprout facial hair
trumpeting, scampering, rejoicing
after favored lass with no care
gathering rosebuds while they may
before their brave hearts got
touched, torched, taxed...
with fire, ah... so cavalier
wondering, speculating, nursing
curiously piqued how adaware
those who frolicked
within Autumn mist did revere
observing what didst appear
oblivious laughter and attitude
analogous to good cheer
omnipresent at Renaissance Faire,
no doubt trials and tribulations
compromised welfare
envious countless scores generations
past knew not global threats,
nonetheless societal fabric circa
early/mid nineteenth century
severely wrenched when
Emancipation Proclamation didst declare
manumision, though sadly
blatant anti semitism, bigotry, racism...,
trumpeted within rank putrid odor
doth still fill the air!
With no ballyhoo as the clock struck two
In a cottage near the edge of town
A maiden there graced with savoir faire
In a flash shot her lover down
A wiley gent from the county Kent
Known for his shameful reputation
Broke the maiden's heart when he chose to part
For another lass in desperation
The constable Green arrived at the scene
The smoking gun still in her hand
Had so many clues it made all the news
And drew attention throughout the land
With jury cast the trial ended fast
Then the judge made a public decree
This maiden there graced with savoir faire
Charged with murder in the first degree
Standing proud amidst the village crowd
Where she could hear their voices roar
Wouldn't bow in fear or shed a tear
When they led her to the gallows floor
Her neck would snap as the as they sprung the trap
All angels wept in Heaven above
With her final breath before put to death
I'm glad to die in the name of love
Please can I go past
Said the salmon to the bear
Sure swim right on by
Just licking down my hair
I’ve already caught my fill
Had more than I prefer
That’s mighty nice of you
Thought I was a goner there
So how many you eat today
Lost count don’t really care
Me neither, only extended family
Ah well life isn’t always fair
Tell me about it fish
I too have cubs to rear
Now get on up that river
Or I’ll kill you I swear
Salmon swims on by
Boldly leaps into the air
Bears paw crashes down
Catching him full square
Said you weren’t hungry
As his teeth began to tear
This is for showing off
With that flyby fanfare.
Can I have a final word
Said the salmon to the bear
Go on but make it quick
Did I ever stand a prayer
Ask a predator for favor
Only makes us more aware
Of underlying weakness
In your case laissez-faire.
By
David Kavanagh
Celebrating the Adventure of Advent
Universal elegy grieves and yet embraces shifts of paradigm
New beginnings consciousness initiates comprehends and thus proceeds from
Illusion’s delusion collusions misconceptions in the irritating
Vortex whirlpool immanent void of false containment
Enlightenment modern postmodern retro visionary futuristic aspirations
Resound in dialectical rebirth rejuvenation germinate constructive
Sense meaning reflect serenity’s tentative confidence that the
Agony of climate change greed warfare ignorance destructive apathy
Liberates fusion confusion necessitates Aquarian communication of
Antagonism’s polar opposites contradictions complements
Cycles spheres of influence of grave repression gravitate
Revolve resolve with pushing pulling moons in metaphorical
Orbital mental psychological initiation shape incidences
Synchronicities collateral communal reason feeling responsibility
Transformation of the global madness inhumanity conjoins
Idealism and the darker side’s fallacies of fabrication
Conspiracy of muted spirit silence violation fade away transform to novel script
Communication courses discourses concur in co-operation
Obvious obscurity in the blip of human race’s evolution delimits
Limitations iron cages hopes for new time place of reason beyond
Laissez-faire and hippie psychedelic stream of consciousness afar from
Anarchy self-righteous slavery rebellion mindlessness
Big oppressive bangs big brother’s obliterating over-information with
Onslaught of technology fail and falter when simplicity and esoteric
Rationale comprise enhance encompass the necessary world view shifts
Ascent and ever changing climax revitalizes humanness thus gifts
Truth deriving comprehension from ‘objective’ communal subjectivity with
Intuition insight inclination outside from the rigid boxed conformity
Order may be found again in the chaos of our time of misrepresented bedlam
New Age Aquarius delivers acts upon fresh constellation contemplates the Universe
Kai Michael Neumann
07th June 2016
In a store that sells antiques,
The past is much alive,
Including parts that we’d prefer
Did somehow not survive.
Some creepy dolls and ugly clothes
And jewelry I’d not wear
Forlornly grace the shelves without
Their one-time savoir faire.
But other items bring a smile
Or memory to bear –
A Popeye pin, some Beatles cards
And much Fiestaware.
Three typewriters with all their keys
Sit Royally encased
And lots of kitchen tools I wish
I never had replaced.
I troll the aisles quite aimlessly
For if you want the truth,
The only things I hope to find
Are traces of my youth.
I long to be, in my duty, like everybody else
I long, to have in the notion of others
A good reputation!
Why, being an educator seemed
Before I jumped into its pool
A thing so simple
Why, dealing with children
Had, after all, always been a piece of cake!
Children, thought I,
Would be obedient
And polite
More, they would be keen to learn
And have, for me
Respect accompanied by a mild fear!
I expected not to be unable to handle a class
I expected not to be retorted
To be refused
To meet with homework and classwork
Not done
And to care not if I reprimand for such
I expected not to meet with rude behavior
I expected not to lose all my energy
My hair and my voice
In a career which I thought would be
As easy as two plus two makes four!
Pray, I do know I am made of sensitivity
I do know I have not a loud voice
And that I speak softly
I do know that I have no children of my own
Still,
I consider myself not unexperienced when dealing
With such!
I long to be made of savoir faire
I long to be like the rest
I long to be good at what I do
To earn my living!
Contest name: The Poet's Ache
Sponsor: Greg Barden
Written on 30 July 2017
Ego, bold, proud, confident and cold
Walked over to me
And subtly pricked my fragility
With its sword, made of arrogance
Hoping, maybe, to see me
Fall on my knees and beg,
Like one so needy and so easily jolted!
Why, Ego, though, went on its way
After meeting with a reflection of itself
In the shine of the shield that I brandished
In its own unreadable face!
Pray, it is impossible for me to be moved by such
I remain, rooted on humility
Humility tied to politeness
And a gentle savoir faire
Ego, though it may seem to be as mighty
As an Alpha wolf
Scares me not
Even if I remain, a tiny colorful butterfly
One with a will to fly around a variety of flowers
Enjoying their fragrance and being dazzled by their dance!
Why, Ego, I am sure, is as it is, out of forceful will
Ego, can let go of its sword as it can join in my dance
Together, we shall let ourselves be submerged
By hypnotizing shamanic beats, to which do sway the flowers!