Long Governors Poems
Long Governors Poems. Below are the most popular long Governors by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Governors poems by poem length and keyword.
Said the Palestinians
to their Israeli neighbors
singing and dancing
karaoke on the Strip
I wish I knew
how to pursue
dual citizenship
as readily
as you
To which Israelis
responded to their Muslim neighbors
dancing in sacred dervish spirals
with songs of 40 year journeys
into We Haven't a Clue
So what shall we do?
Let's all apply
for dual citizenship
on this EarthTribal Strip
What could our governments say
to deny this sacred integral Way?
Both together
and apart
we know our governors
are not here to be our keepers
of narcissistic
nationalistic
and alarmingly ballistic
defense.
Our empowering folksongs
empathically resonate
with peace and love demands
for compassionate EarthTribal dance
Better religiously together
than disintegrating apart
from our karaoke on the Strip
song and dance togatherers
Descended
from ancient shepherds
dancing through inhaling
and exhaling monthly moonlight
singing under shared story stars
Sacred EarthMothers
unexpectedly
miraculously
emerged from Black Holy Matters
with singing children
and inspirating Sabbath men.
And when it ends suddenly, unexpectedly,
You start to count.
First on the days, then the hours - then
Just counting until 100
Then
Beginning again.
The dead find their faces
The living count faces
Then most forget
Unless the face has your DNA in it,
But you remember the body bags
Being moved around in the night,
The nurses crying,
The lies being spread,
The excuses,
The obfuscation,
The blundering incompetence
Of bureaucracy and officialdom.
The elderly kept in deathcamps
that used to be nursing homes.
The grinning mayors
And governors.
It’s going away now.
Less and less each day.
It’s going away now
It’s going to a place
Where the living cannot find it
It’s going away now.
And suddenly you are very angry
About the stupid shut-ins and the shut-downs,
The politicization of tragedy.
The muddled and slanted statistics
The ridiculous projections,
The false data.
The contradictions and bluster.
The draconian regulatory and government
Sponsored power grabs.
The gagging and intimidation
Of workers.
The trashing of basic freedoms
People
Jailed,
Fined,
Harassed.
The banning's.
The right to collectively worship denied,
Peaceful protest denied.
Businesses forced into bankruptcy.
The unemployment
The waste.
And destruction.
The sundering of families,
The needless school closures,
The suffering that led
To clinical depression and drug overdoses,
The disdain of those
Who rejected commonsense remedies.
The manipulations
And machinations,
All the willing useful fools
Chorusing together to tread down
Democracy.
The grinning talking heads
Who doctored the news.
The attacks and the cancelling
Of those who begged to differ.
Dissenters labeled conspiracy theorists.
The cover-ups:
Gain of function.
GAIN OF FUNCTION.
The dumb mantra of the ignorant
Demanding we 'follow the science'
But the science was wrong
The scientists lied
They lied.
They all knew
AND THEY LIED!
And I am still counting
In case it returns
And I have a lot more things to count,
Lots more to tally and be made
ACCOUNTABLE.
Abounding in seemingly infinite activities for actualization
Bards are we, bestowed with busyness beyond poetry writing’s best
Chores of caring await like being coaches, cheerers, counselors
Duty-bound, we can do these or that and such with diligence…
Earnest in our roles as parents and family members, ever-endearing
Fulfilling entrusted assignments along faithfulness fortitude
Guards, governors, guides … glowing in goodness
Helping, healing, hoisting hearts upon hope’s herald…
Influencing against impossibility’s impact
Joy-sharers while journeying with jubilation
Kindness’ sowers, as well as instructors of knowledge
Loving, leading, learning along the light…
Managers, merchandisers, or ministers
Nourishing talents and gifts, knocking off negligence
Open to development opportunities
Planting, praying, pursuing toward prosperity
Quitting not to live in contentment’s quietude…
Reconciliators or reconcilers, rejoicing for relationship restoration
Singers or perhaps speech makers, truth --- spreading
Triumphantly testifying with thanksgiving*
Upholders of righteousness in our undertakings
Voicing out vigilantly against violence…
Worshipers while watchers of grand children (soon) ... wisely
Xylophone players maybe, while basking under bliss of xanadu
Yearning for yields with strength of youthfulness
Zealously we zoom to accomplish much midst passionate zest.
*2Corinthians 9:11 Being enriched in every thing to all bountifulness, which causeth through us thanksgiving to God.
"Double Abecedarian" with the 26 lines' first and last words beginning letters from A to Z, amidst internal alliteration
November 28, 2020
2nd place, "Where do we poets go?" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 11/29/2020.
This is featured in the book, PS: It's Still Poetry - An Anthology of Contemporary Poetry from Around the World Paperback – January 1, 2022 by Inc. Arczis Web Technologies (Author), PoetrySoup (Author)
I think
and feel
it would be a good
and healthy change
if schools,
at all levels,
and parents
of all nations,
taught our young
more about win/win cooperative
thriving passions for resilience
than win/lose competitive
surviving dispassions from dissonance.
Even better,
and more urgently primal,
seminal,
revolutionary,
We might become a good
and healthy climate wave for change
if students and teachers
and children and parents
and listeners and preachers,
followers and leaders
listened to our young and old
with more win/win compassionate hugs
than win/lose competing survival detachments,
neglects,
disconnected abuses
learned through lifetimes of wounds
and non-win/win potential integrity
fractures,
Deeply and widely learned
from struggling unfree/unsafe parents
and robotic behavior-commodified,
multiply and then divide,
left-brain dominant teachers
and schools
and monocultures
and nationalistic nonself-governors.
I stayed on this famous island for a little while,
fortress, prison and avant-garde Bonaparte style.
Rigged charm with antiquities slow train,
governors constitution keeping royal patriots vain.
200 years after the mysterious death of the king,
at his grave, I was wondering, ‘You poor little thing’.
Another sort of great Alexander that loves to conquer,
taken on the establishments in crisis that ponder.
Ideals of restless doomed heroes celebrated,
taken war to higher constitution elevated.
St. Helena the wife of Emperor Constantine,
went on to pilgrimage to find the sacred terrain.
Building the church of the Holy Sepulchre,
the place of Christ crucifixions culture.
Priestess of Avalon and patron saint of discoveries,
island of sacred through Christ self recoveries.
Total sovereignty and its dying destiny,
luring fatal admirations penalty.
No escaping from repeating history.
When I was young my mom, like most women, donned a hat when she went out.
Dad said it added to her beauty…of this I had no doubt.
My mom had a collection of hats she stored in boxes under her bed.
So many different kinds of bonnets that sat atop her head.
Moms of today are different they go out with their heads bare
but one thing they share with Moms of the past are the many hats they wear.
If we tried to count the hats they don...we couldn’t...they go on indefinitely
Perhaps one way to approach it...is alphabetically.
Moms are:
Accountants
Babysitters
Chauffeurs...they do what
Doctors and
Electricians do…they are
Farmers
Governors
Housekeepers, and
Ice cream makers too…they are
Janitors
Kitchen and
Laundry workers, and
Maids who clean the floor…they are
Nurses
Optometrists,
Painters
Quality control inspectors and furthermore they are
Receptionists
Seamstresses and
Teachers…they can
Upholster that sofa or that chair…they are
Valets
Washroom Attendants and
X-Ray technicians…ready anytime and anywhere…they are
Yard managers and every Mom I know is also a keeper of the
Zoo
That’s 26 different hats they wear…
26 different jobs that all Moms do.
Moms are the original and still the best multi-taskers the world has ever met.
In fact, I didn’t run out of hats for them...I ran out of alphabet!
I guess it’s a good thing each job doesn’t have a hat that sits atop Moms head
for there wouldn’t be enough room to store the boxes under their beds.
They are visionaries, they are cheerleaders, so much of our existence they adorn
yet they had no experience as a mother until the day when we were born.
Because it was at that miraculous moment, despite their fearfulness and qualms
when they smiled as they looked at us and realized……’I’m a Mom.’
For that is the hat that encompasses the rest...the hat we call motherhood
and I must admit, from where I stand
Moms…you make that hat look good.
So Moms, here’s to a wonderful Mother’s Day as this poem bids you all adieu
For all the many hats you wear…
our hats are off to you.
HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY
State's Soul vs. Power Chessboard. (POLITICRABS;)
(A series of "The Armor Crabs In A Bucket poems")
The crowd has chosen the path of the heart,
Where hope is a banner and numbers ignite,
They walk with the man who would tear things apart,
To fashion a dawn from the weight of the night.
Seen the light, "From consumption to production"
They seek for a breaking of heavy old chains,
A future where equity governs the soil,
They pour out their passion like seasonal rains,
And stake all their dreams on the harvest of toil.
Wisdom, of moving from sharing to creating
But the elites are building a different gate,
They look at the map through a colder design,
They say that a province that stands in isolate
Will wither away at the national line.
Obis transparence and unpadded budgetary
"The road to the center is paved with compromise,"
They whisper in halls where the strategies meet,
"You cannot rule a kingdom by averting your eyes,
Or throwing your votes in a wave of retreat."
Recurrent decimal of the turn of fallacy East President
They speak of the pacts that the governors made,
That power must rest where the south wind resides,
A tenure of eight where the foundations are laid,
Before the great pendulum shifts in the tides.
Ribadu is stationed in the old seat of Ashiwaju
So they bow to the center for federal bread,
For allocations, for peace, and for roads,
Choosing the safety of being well-fed,
To carry the state and its heaviest loads.
The four governors, all eying to deputize Ribadu.
The governor rules by the grip of the now,
Where survival demands that you look to the king;
While the populace stands with a resolute brow,
Refusing to dance to the songs that they sing.
Peter Obi, the popular structureless winner
One path is a movement of passionate grace,
The other, a chess game of status and state
And the long road of history watches the place,
To see which design will determine their fate.
Go and verify, please return with facts not frivolities.
In a city, today at 11:am in a nearby town,
An elementary student took his own life down.
In sorrow and anger I do murmur and walk.
Children do not die of Covid, such b.s. talk.
The Unions just want more cash for teachers.
Children have falling grades, stop saying school
on a screen is at all sane!
The Union can pay for his final expenses.
He's not the first to do this.
Suicide is no way to go.
Kids need one another not a teacher's face on a screen.
Politicians should fund all suicides.
Lockdowns driving people out of their minds.
Who wants to live like an animal caged?
My heart weeps crimson tears. He was my grandsons's age.
This fills my heart with rage and hot tears.
But you and I know lockdowns will expand,
As socialism infects this great land!
What good is poetry, as children and adults end their lives.
Lockdowns will kill yet more.
Unless we stop hiding behind our doors!
We all need human contact and parents cannot take the place
of peers.
Our governors, with their fat heads up their rears.
CNN lies with death count fears?
Pray for his mother...no son this Christmas or any other.
No Birthday, no Mother's Day.
To Covid nonsense, he eternally....pays,
The moon sheds tears of lost young blood tonight.
May it cause us all a sleepless and restless night.
12/2/2020
6pm PST
Form:
while she believed she was me
signing my name on personal injury
claims in fort lauderdale
I cradled my identity i was every part
of america i was every part of germany while she
believed she was me buses blew up in london while
dirty bombs were plotted near
buckingham palace while corruption was being
laundered in Belfast Ireland while she believed
she was me fearlessly i was being dragged
through a holy war while she believed
she was me. my ancestors became
the valley of dry bones unearthed in burr oaks
cemetary the largest crime
scene in the history of chicago while
she believed she was me
a civil servant employee retired in tampa
an ex army wife dependant crawling on
constitution blvd wearing my dogtags
of thee highiest order of law truth veritas
her treason a mole hired by corruption
to infiltrate an ongoing criminal investigation
into police corruption
while she believed she was me killers snarled
as corrupt officers hissed
saddled with fear while she believed
she was me the fallen rose
as governors were arrested
while judges committed suicide
oh how I wanted to end my own life
to prevent another assassination attempt
oh lord forgive me as I decided
to follow my identity to my dismay
it was being blackmarketed sold traded
in Europe India the middle east and Moscow
devestated as I knelt praying
for our bischops and preist
while she believed she was me
the entire Polish Parliament perished
my soul dangled over russia
Hay sisters, we need the
Right to Vote! – We need
a real voice, protection from
dominating, independent
men – self serving tyrants.
Our strength are our greater
numbers girlfriends. Through
the voting process, tear-down
their entire system of abusive
male domination. Elect our
far more liberal candidates!
And so, the US has:
Liberal judges who refuse to
incarcerate, turn violent criminals
back out on the streets, time and
time again to cause more death and
destruction. Elect liberal governors
to office, so we have abortion up to
the day of birth – why not one more?
The day after. Put Marxist, liberal
politicians in office, Freedom hating
Communists – Sure! That’s a great
idea. Our children will bless us from
their future concentration camps. Yep,
Women’s suffrage! Now suffer us all!