Long Gradation Poems
Long Gradation Poems. Below are the most popular long Gradation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gradation poems by poem length and keyword.
Daily we face different kinds of aggravation,
but there is one type which by man has its causation,
and it merits an immediate termination.
But because of modern “civilization”
and the greed of many a corporation,
it’s doubtful we shall have the consolation
of ending modern man’s contamination.
I’m not talking parasites or the visitation
of bacteria from eating a crustateon.
I mean the one of worsening gradation.
It’s environmental, and in my evaluation,
is the worst of all, for it has manifestation
in things consumed by us or by our inhalation
of air of course! It’s an abberation
for which we need to have more constertnation!
Society should have mortification
for what is being done. There’s no good explanation
to offer our descendents. The concentration
of chemicals and also of radiation
along with nitrates in our soil’s fertilzation
is cancer-causing, and now inflammation
is affecting nearly all the population.
Politicians do not act. Procrastination
may very well end in our obliteration!
It’s like murder through premeditation.
And this murder uses no discrimination.
What do you think? Is it this country’s destination
to leave our kids with total devestation?
Surely in this mortal realm there can be salvation!
And so I finish with this small summation:
Unless we act, we’ll remain, for the duration,
in our station of a Contamination Nation.
4/4/18 for the Contamination Contest of Kai Michael Neumann
Do not take restoration at heart's nest
To rest quests of growing... to thanksgiving;
Where fierced tempest seemed calm and reliving,
Rather keep battling to secure end's best.
When your reach nation;
Where lofty navigation
Tie norms gradation...
Do embrace undiluted silent tongue
In your closet where broad will is of God;
Every moment joy visits starving odd
To dine on your sacred wrongs left unsung...
When you reach new realm,
Where sins put grace off as helm;
Mercy overwhelm...
Do not forget sweats, threats dared to beset
That energize crazy means you keep up,
With daring patience, luck tempts to give up;
Tracking your lot to memorable regret...
When you reach great land,
Dearly take firmly your stand
For grace to expand...
Yet clip your head down in His soothing palm,
Switch not to have a grip of your wisdom
Which holds the best human abused kingdom;
Of foolishness buried alive in psalm.
When you reach new height,
Try by all means to rewrite
Past names- delight slight...
My name is dreaming
as a verb
but I have spent my whole life as an adverb
like a side dish
that prepares you for the main one
and I don’t know
which paths led me here
or it’s because of all those paths that I missed
my spatial orientation is fuc*ed
mind has it’s own will
it aligns according to the needs and desires of other
just like a side dish
sometimes I'm too much
so they postpone me aside
or I’m used for digestion layering
paving the way for the chef's recommendation
in other scenario they just skip me
as I "value" less then the preferred main course
value
such a discriminating word
forcing gradation division between two poles
creating binary emulsion where we all suffocate eventually
I can’t breathe
accumulated stress from constant apprehension
whether I’ll be delayed, ignored, or consumed
constructed thick cobweb layer above my larynx
which caught me in the adverb matrix where you don’t have time
to rebel against side dish label as you’re occupied by grasping air
I can’t breathe
my bio is laid on the last page of the menu
I’m tired
I’m so tired of being accompaniment for someone else’s happiness
I just can’t breathe
my heart is trauma bonded
mind is living in side dish delusion
and lungs have misplaced their confidence beneath that cobweb
I want to fire the match
and start my own private big bang
I need to
"For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made." - Romans 1:20
The coloured space refracts the Creator's essence
A vision soaked in palettes with threefold lens
RGB, HSV, or Lab—three in dimension, yet one in hue
In every shade and gradation, His light shines through
There are no depths from which He does not gleam
In blackest nights, faint sparks can still be seen
A triune of quarks swirl in quantum lore
Chromodynamic sparks weld together the atoms' cores.
Galaxies ignite where the elements unite
As trichrome charge converges to white
'Til eons pass and the stars cave in
And remnant dusts collide to birth new kin
What wondrous run, what state of art!
The world we tread on beats with iron heart
Fe, atom number 26, is a sacred sign
To the tetragrammaton, YHVH, His name divine
Then to its mass, add neutrons—30 in all
The age when priests (and Christ) are given call
As Iron-56 stands, most stable of time and space
Thus our lives shall be, when yielded to His grace
In all of this the bonds shout eight-point-eight
When fusion peaks, new dawn shall propagate
Through life of stars the Spirit breathes
Through crimson blood that iron sheathes
Abundant life is encoded within the Son's name
As the oxygen in air sparks resurrection's flame
Even the atmospheres bear witness to the cross
The Word is inscribed in all of cosmos
Thus Nature's Laws pulsate with His decrees
Woven in Love, not random debris
From stellar breaths to fermion spins
Every speck of existence are God's fingerprints
Burning daylight
Burnt the whole daylight
and entered the dark,
Only to learn plight
of firefly that glowed in the dark,
Burnt the whole daylight
to find the spark,
Lost in depressive fight
else had touched high as skylark,
Burnt the whole daylight
to hide the shame,
Of unfairly attained delight
else had not brought dis fame,
Burnt the whole daylight
in kindness and good intent,
For sound sleep of the night
of peace and content,
Burnt the whole daylight
in gaining education,
Studying also at night
for better gradation,
Burning the whole daylight
life was an absolute waste,
Knowledge rose to height
but humanity lost its taste !
Written May 6th, 2015
For contest by John Lawless
MEMORY
I missed rank and prize in Examination
When in Eighth standard just by one mark.
I was extremely shocked, no consolation.
The injustice gave me terrible jerk.
I was determined to stand First next year.
I succeeded and showed progress report to Dad.
Dad hugged me and told ‘My child, Dear,
Your success matters more than mine, I am so glad.'
In later life I felt exact same emotion,
while caring for daughters to raise them up.
Their joy and success seemed my up gradation.
My own demand was next to follow up.
07/10/19
Tenth Place
'Childhood Memories' Contest by Chantelle Anne Cooke
Le Squirrel Sat For Le Painter
His canvass set
And oils based,
He zeroed onto her providence.
His lips miming
Rhode Island here
Big Apples there.
She scowled her impatience.
Her eyes dismissing his.
Although,
Him noting her dark chocolates,
Sweet looking,
Cloaked as balls of fire,
And a posture gorgeous and erect.
And so was he.
She was a beauty
And a beast ...
As levity was short on her,
But long on him.
If only she would give in
It would make for better strokes,
A better potrait.
Thus ill fated
In his mind,
This potrait sat on thin ice.
Little squirrels jumping in,
Ski jumping off her nose.
Swoosh!
Another one.
Swoosh!
The third missed.
Crash landing on her lap,
Smiling.
A caricature off and galloping.
His horse neighing in absentee.
Seeds of a lampoon sprouting.
His mind jumping
To conclusions.
He raced.
The potrait moaned.
He dabbled a little oil here,
A little oil there.
A pinch of rouge
On her cheeks and lips,
And highlighting a reflection
In her pupils.
Chocolates never looked so bitter.
He finished with sparkles
In her hair, flaming.
He paused,
Adding a little depth
and gradation to her forehead,
pointed and blunt,
like a squirrel posing at his party.
After all she was.
For hues,a reddish brown, and swirls,
No mistaking that of Le Squirrel.
He had a little ways to go
And a lifetime of laughter.
He added squirrels jetting
From her mouth and ears.
And that bushy tail,
He thought
Wiser of not making
Her into a **** star
His mind thinking,
her seated, the bushy tail
jetting up between her thighs.
No.
Upon realization,
her eyes squinting at the portrait
in disbelief,
Le Squirrel screamed.
The shrill heard around town,
Making the artist rise.
connie pachecho
8/31/17
Inspired to write this poem after reading entries
to the Artwork-Poetry Contest
I want to believe that this world is the best place to live.
I wish that one day I could be proud of what I believe.
I want to believe that all men love each other and the difference between them is not much.
I wish to believe that no discrimination or gradation is done between human being as such.
I would want to believe that it’s never the end until it’s all good and satisfying.
I wish we all have the attitude of goodness, love and we all are caring.
I wish my dream of being happy, lucky and contented always comes true.
I want to believe that problems for us either don’t exist or are very few.
I wish that all my beliefs turn into a beautiful reality some day.
God please listen to all my wishes and answer them as this is what I daily pray.
~ A Poem on the Parsha* ~
'In the Sinai Desert'
A wilderness - barren, desolate
that snakes and scorpions populate
Flat, sand-swept, open to all
who yearn to hear Eternity's call
There God led His new nation
Spoke to three million, atop a mountain gradation
On Horeb, the lowliest of them
face-to-face ~ Moses and Jerusalem
________________________________________________
*'Parsha' is Hebrew for (loosely) 'portion.' Every Sabbath
a portion of the Five Books of Moses is read in the
synagogue. In a year's time, all five books are completed,
and the grand occasion is celebrated at the last holiday
of the Fall Harvest Season, 'Simchas Torah.' (lit., 'Rejoic-
ing with the Law.'). This Sabbath, the portion read is titled
'In the Desert,' from the Book of Numbers 1:1 - 4:20.