Long Glass ceiling Poems
Long Glass ceiling Poems. Below are the most popular long Glass ceiling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Glass ceiling poems by poem length and keyword.
Cast Down
I am a young girl with a delicate mind
to be molded,
Sitting in the front row with a pressed sundress
and hands in dainty white gloves gently folded.
My society is a cast system that allow me to go
no further than this station.
There is no upward mobility, no promotion.
The government genocide my girls,
saying there are too many in our world.
They are not as important as the males
that are pushed forward to assail.
My husband died,
therefore I must be ostracized
and live in the City of Viridian, on the streets outside.
I’m only 15 and the law is the blame,
that when my husband died I am to be shamed.
I’ve been here since the beginning of time put here by
The Master of birth,
creator of earth.
In my land singing songs in my voice
Can be a deadly choice.
I have dwelled in caves, houses, palaces, and shanty huts
I live in the hottest and coldest of lands
I’m a queen of nations
with many challenging vocations.
I’m suppressed by Taliban regimes
I am too one of God’s most prized creations
Living in depressed nations
Man forgot how special, delicate
and strong I am. But if I smile
it could mean my exile.
I must go through body mutilation
Only to rise up as a tribal creation.
My mother sold me
for a month’s supply of tea.
My husband suppresses me,
ignore me like I’m an invisible shadow,
a fly on his shoulder.
I the woman, have to break up boulders.
Not allowed to speak to move about with the free
spirit I am.
Used only for whispers and closeness at night,
Not for my mind or my insight.
To bring about the birth of another that will
stifle my flight.
who will ignore me while learning
the unequal culture of this place,
judging me if I am in the sunlight showing my face.
I sit in boardrooms among the tailored made suits,
dictating the plans of the day.
They stare at me with silent harsh words.
I’m one of the brightest recruits.
Being strong, intellectual and watching my back,
climbing the ladder pass the glass ceiling
Working with small minds being ever unyielding.
Still at times suppressed and cast down.
I refuse to walk with my eyes on the ground.
I thank those before me
that had the strength, patience and endurance that led us to be free.
The Useful Guru
Melanie heard of a remarkable man,
with a groundbreaking view on life,
millions of people watched his videos,
learned how to deal with daily strife.
She found herself in a bad place,
her career not going so well,
so she went to him on weekend,
her deep issues, she would tell.
She said,”It’s so hard as a woman,
to get anywhere in this world,
the glass ceiling keeps me down,
they’ll never respect us girls!
I need to know how I should go,
’cause I’m sick and tired of it!
How do I get my six figures?”
Said the guru,”Work hard, don’t quit.”
Jamal was a child of the projects,
no father, bad schools, and gangs,
he’d spent night in prison, more than once,
had been jumped, has his bell rang.
So he went in to find the guru,
to ask him for his advice,
he said,”Man, they’re all out to get me,
make me suffer, live by knife.
A guy like me cannot get ahead,
they don’t like my coal-dark skin,
The Man is determined to suppress me,
it's all over before I begin!
How do I get on out of this place,
I’m tired of the grime and grit.”
Guru said,”Nobody is ‘suppressing, you,
wanna leave? Work hard, don’t quit.”
Russel was born to put on a show,
a magnetic soul on the stage,
he pounded pavement, worked auditions,
but still very rarely was paid.
He found the guru hoping that he
could help him with his career.
He said,”I feel like it’s a circle,
and that I don’t get anywhere.
My friends say I should play ‘the game,’
that it’s how the industry works,
they say I can’t expect my merit
to impress these studio jerks.
But I’m not gonna get on my knees,
not for a part or a bit,
am I a fool just wasting my time?”
Said the guru,”Work hard, don’t quit.”
A reporter came seven years later,
he’d heard of guru many claims.
“Melanie Cox, the big C.E.O.
says you helped her get to fame.
And my buddy Jamal says that you
helped him leave the ghetto.
The actor, Russel Zane, credits you
with pushing him to bigger roles.
So many people are now swearing by
the things they hear you say,
my producers are interested to know
what exactly is you game?
How do you get such great results,
can you tell me your secret?
Guru said,”It’s no damn mystery.
Wanna win? Work hard, don’t quit.”
“Cause there ain’t no other way…”
I rejected form.
I rejected meter.
I rejected editing.
I rejected reading.
I'm a flash in the pan.
I'm fueled by emotions.
I'm emboldened by scars.
I'm challenged by time.
I wonder how far I could go
if I took the time to study.
If I sat down and honed my craft
and took pride in my words.
I'm certainly no prodigy.
Every verse came at a cost.
Perhaps I'm finally paying the price
by stagnating in my growth.
I let my fingers write.
My mind is actually blank.
It's just a silly white canvas
that never blossomed.
I never once toiled.
I never once struggled.
If it was hard I just gave up
and deleted the verse.
I'm told I write prose
rather than true poetry.
Maybe I don't understand
what the difference is.
I never had any talent.
Writing was my safe space.
Now I have to wonder
if it was ever safe at all.
Admittedly I rejected effort.
I didn't want to actually try
When the minimalist approach
seemed to work so well.
I'm not a prodigy.
I'm not a genius.
I'm not gifted.
I'm not published.
I dreamed of the glass ceiling
but I never dreamed of breaking it.
Maybe I'm just damned to always look through it
and see writers much more dedicated than I.
I made omelettes without breaking eggs.
I created houses with no foundation.
I sang songs without reading the lyrics.
I baked cakes without a recipe.
I don't want to sound entitled
but my writing deserves to be better.
In twelve years I should have accomplished more
than using these poems as tissue paper for tears.
In 2007 I was just a kid
writing five to ten poems daily.
That effort got me noticed
and I shared my verse with crowds.
I was driven by ambition
and fueled by emotion.
All I wanted was adulation
when all I had known was the gallows.
This is the last flash in the pan.
Fleeting emotions can't guide my pen forever.
I do not know what the future holds
but no longer will I be complacent.
I am a writer.
I am a poet.
I am a lover.
I am a fighter.
This is the swan song
of my old poetic style.
With eyes on the horizon
My pen will ever be furious.
It’s been 3 years since the low blow of nadirs
As we said hooroo to you..goodbye to our top guy
Still feeling...reeling from the pain
Of all the polished veneers of careers
Which is the best palimpsests of Test contests..conquests
The class...VIP pass..no glass ceiling
Why..has to be the insane arcane Shane gravy train
You know they’re in the hall of fame..like Elvis
When they just get called by their first name
Palpable fears cricket will never ever
Be quite the same game again
Cricketing Gods above showered their love.. on an upstart..
Who didn’t just play his part but resurrected
The respected but sadly neglected.. leg spin art
Vision of befuddling precision & derision lingers
The dawn of Warne
Muddling aplomb of his first ball against a Pom
Fingers flipped…it dipped..gripped..ripped
Nipped..skipped..clipped off stump
Leggy bomb….under the pump
Down in the dump chump
Plump Gatting slipped..pipped
We quipped..ill equipped..standing sentry for
The outstanding ball of the century
Shane twirled & quite simply
Changed the world of batting
Gandalf's celestial staff...walks the walk...talks the talk
On some extra terrestrial path
And at tother end..you're having a laugh..where
When there's then the zen
Of his old friend Glenn McGrath
Warnie’s masterplan of..flair…elan and despair
Devious...mischievous...had plenty of previous
Alright unfair trite slights about hair implants..highlights
Off the square delights…did revel with rare
On another level.. seedier devil may care flights
Done like a kipper by a ripper
Wannabe chipper skipper's flipper again
One of the game’s greatest readers & media feeder
Should've been.. hallowed.. not fallowed leader
Memories never wane of how
Shane did forever entertain
A whizz doing the biz with such fizz
Legendary larrikin of sin & spin
So let's ordain the Champagne
Campaign & Reign of Shane!
A Quote By Rod Serling:
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man... a dimension as vast as space and as timeless, as infinity.
In a conceptual world of fifth dimension there exists an unobservable micro dimension called space. It contains an invisible loop smaller than an atom. As 5D multi-dimensional beings, we are now capable of touching the spiritual world with our bare minds and finally be able to oscillate our bodies between two worlds. As the spirit and the matter unite we achieve Divine comprehension of self and others. Beginning to perceive each instant and moment of time we start to live our lives wide awake and alert. In compliance with the natural laws that co-exist in our time on earth. Earth is in a process of transformation and so are we. As we evolve there is no longer a need for war as we know it. (The greatest victory is that which requires no battle)
When these corporal bodies of ours have blown away to the wind like shredded ribbons loosed from a kite, towards glass ceiling skies we will fly, then go to a place where no one ever truly dies...
A Quote By Gene Rodenberry
The strength of a civilization is not measured by its ability to fight wars, but rather by its ability to prevent them.
Let us reason with our evolving minds in order to search and heal, rather than seek and destroy. When we enter into the 6th dimension we can finally witness the past, present and future unanimously. Having full access to time we are no longer feel the pressure of aging. So let us measure our strengths by courage, honesty, empathy and loyalty. As we open the psychic centers our mind and come to a Universal understanding, we all must do our part if we are ever to amalgamate and enter into the 7th dimension, together and collectively.
Copyright © Mystic Rose Rose | Year
They say boys don’t cry.
They say it like a promise.
Like strength is stitched in our skin at birth
and weakness is something
you have to unzip your chest to find.
I was eight
when I learned that sadness had a gender.
That girls get tissues,
and boys get told to “tough it out.”
That scraped knees get band-aids,
but broken hearts?
Those just get buried under
“man up”
and “you’ll be fine.”
I was twelve
when my dad said,
“Stop acting like a girl.”
Like emotions were diseases
and I’d caught one.
So I stopped.
Stopped crying.
Stopped talking.
Stopped needing anything
that made me look soft.
Because being soft
felt like being disposable.
And you wonder why boys break things
before they break down?
Why fists meet walls before feelings meet words?
We are taught to bottle it up—
but no one tells you what happens
when the pressure hits the glass ceiling of your skull.
I walk hallways with a smile that’s a lie.
Teachers don’t ask.
Friends don’t see.
And the counselor?
Too busy with the loud kids,
the girls who cry pretty in bathrooms.
My silence doesn’t make a scene.
It just echoes.
Some nights I scream
into pillows
so I don’t have to apologize
for having a voice.
But no one sees bruises
when they’re on the inside.
No one asks
if you're okay
when your mask fits perfectly.
And I want to tell you—
depression wears cologne too.
Anxiety knows how to laugh at jokes.
Panic attacks can come
after touchdowns and straight A’s.
I want to scream:
Check on your boys.
Check on the ones who always say, “I’m good.”
Check on the ones whose humor hits too hard,
too fast,
like they’re trying to dodge their own thoughts.
Because we are drowning
in plain sight.
We are falling
but our hands look like fists,
so no one thinks to catch us.
We are breaking
in ways that look like silence.
And silence
doesn’t make noise
until it’s too late.
Woman you have stood the test of time
Woman they can never blow your mind
Woman you are smart, irresistible and strong
Woman we are waiting to compose a new song.
Woman we have been observing you for decades
You have proven that you are not manmade
You are a symbol to revive the weak
We are waiting to hear you speak.
Woman you are influential, compelling and unstoppable
You have showed them from time to time
That nothing can break your overwhelming bubble
Woman you are elegant and beautiful
Woman there is nobody of your kind.
Woman the world is waiting for you
To break that hard built glass ceiling
Woman hold your head high
Because you are destined to reach the sky.
Everyone knows that politics is a dirty game
Hold up your head and don’t’ feel ashamed
I have heard about it on the evening news
But don’t you worry because my God is not a fool
He has made his selection long before the start of this game.
Woman continue to work on a master plan
And don’t be distracted by the media useless pranks.
If God should exhibit his full authority
All the media houses would be shut down in day
And their story would become the world’s cartoon ridicule.
Woman this is a fight for women
Stand in there and hold on strong
Face the fight with tact, dignity and honesty
And everything will work out according to God’s plan.
Woman you represent a symbol of hope
When the world is in turmoil who do they run to?
Lady liberty stands proud with dignity and gallantry
Woman you are the backbone of the nation and a spire for liberty.
Woman you are destined to obtain an overwhelming victory.
Woman you are strong
©2015 Christine Phillips
Ladies! Ladies!Ladies!!!
focus on your career
not on the barriers......
always pare yourself; to be the best version.....
all the time better than yesterday;
be greedy for your ambition.
Gambol with your passion.....
Why be in a glass slipper.....
unless you can break a glass ceiling; promise yourself that you will not Brittle.
Keep your aim higher.....
be the best fighter.
Proliferate your energy;
let your dreams fly......
give them wings to fly more and more high.
Who can tell you ....who you should be......
don't let anyone or any situation dictate to who you are.....who you can be.....
fight for your dreams;
Coz no one is going to do this for you.
Your path is just your own.....
it belongs to no one.....
don't compromise with your values, your believes and your virtues.
You will fail, but don't stop at that.
After the failure stand up and Assailant;
coz you have the power, which can stop the shower of Cascade.
Resuscitate your heart and Invert.
Show your mettle; show your stalwart side......
no matter what you do..... Someone will always be unhappy with you.
You can never please everyone all the time.
The biggest favour that you will all do to yourselves will be laugh at yourselves, at situation;
this funny thing is called life.
Find the moment to appreciate yourself every single day.
Don't take yourself too seriously......
calm down, have fun, just enjoy your every day;
the moment you have now.
Bestow the moment to yourself which is wow.
See your good times..... meanwhile bad times, hardship, pain, laughter, sadness......
coz that all make you who you are.....
In some aspect of life women are used to bully......
but only the thing you need to wear your confidence.
Don't restrict yourself in one thing ever.....
you have a myriad dream that you have to make it true.
THE LAST SONG
The beat to this song is clear but the words are faint
The lyrics are heavy I can't afford saying they are written in my heart with indelible paint
If I keep quite it will cause immeasurable pain
Should I join choir and sing like I was sent, should I worship like a saint
Should I talk about sin or should I narrate the things I have seen
Should I shout like nuts knowing am completely sane
But this song is so real I can feel it healing my broken soul
I have a feeling this song has broken the glass ceiling and I am sailing as I witness the the great healing
Families will reunite to listen to this song
Orphans will identify with this song
I can't be wrong because it's been long just reminiscing on this song
Song of broken hearts and broken souls, broken huts and broken homes
Splattered pieces and broken wholes
It's about pills and portions evoking fake emotions, this song is about white girls and black alike
Many faces white and black facism, young and old people fighting racism
This song is about martyrs who grew tired of autocracy and got retired early
The beats are hard symbolic of the struggle
The words are soft and consoling
This song is like fire burning
This song is like pepper itching I keep running and running
But it dwelth in me
This song is not racist
This song is tribe all
This song is beautiful not sinful, its clear to the artist
Unclear to the atheists it's true to the course
This song is about Christ going through assault to save us all
This is the last song that was last sought by prophets and philosophers
Jesus, caessars, Socrates...
This song is the last song of a lost soul.
The farmer wakes to a great stir, a beast disrupts his brood,
But he can never catch his foe, for this beast shrewd.
He does not know he can’t contain this beast, for it is me,
He’s threatened, must strike first, but asks, what could I be?
Hey farmer, you’re mistaken, I ain’t no GMO,
You can’t control me, you don’t own me, I’ve got no Monsanto.
Or is it congress that you play at? You the FDA?
I see you: one face, two face, a new mask every day.
But that don’t fool me, ‘cause I know exactly what you do,
Recombining DNA, using a virus or two,
Invading minds and bodies, creating dependants,
Whatever tactics you can find to keep your ascendance.
Externally are social ‘norms,’ which you have put in place,
To ensure we self-police, a sort of ‘just in case.’
Because deep down both you and I know you're losing control,
You want the hens to flock, can’t let one feel like it’s whole.
Even the roosters know their place, don’t want to deviate,
You’ve bred your livestock well, and they still procreate.
Yet you attempt to censor our private and professional affairs,
Forget the glass ceiling, these are the Penrose stairs.
What you fail to realize is I won’t spiral down,
I’ll break free of your illusions and make it on my own.
Though I may lead your flock is grounded in that coop built strong,
While I will fly my heart’s content your hens can’t come along.
For hens don’t fly, nor roosters do, that’s just how they were made,
And so I laugh while thinking that of me you are afraid.
Give up while you still can, my friend; your ways I won’t espouse,
Your problem, farmer, is that there’s an eagle in your hen house.