Long Graduation Poems

Long Graduation Poems. Below are the most popular long Graduation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Graduation poems by poem length and keyword.


I'M Gone Make It

From the beginning momma been duin it on her own, raising a fast kid like me in a single parent home. 15 years old with her whole life ahead of her, but sperm traveled fast and made a single egg last. Now its me, here by mistake, so I only look at myself as one. Taking her through hell for 15 years , while she gave up all she had in front of her. No prom, no graduation, no happiness, her teenage life thrown away and sacrificed just for me. But all this didn’t have to be. She had a choice: murder me, or give me away and live happily. She kept me out the goodness of her heart, lord knows If she had the chance, she’d give it up for a brand new start. But this is the life of how a small lil teen in a huge giant world grows with guilt inside.
Daddy wasn’t an addict, and daddy wasn’t a jail berg. Daddy isn’t dead, he’s just somewhere being mislead. He’s not with me, so how can he tell me where I need to be. 
I grew up like any other kid, without a father. All I had and have to depend on is my mother. She’s not the best, but she’s defiantly far from the rest. 
She’s modeling for me, modeling how to be. The best is what she want me to see. 
Tough love is rough is love, momma know love. Momma give love, momma take love, but I’m surprised momma still giving love. Its just a matter of time before momma throw in the gloves! 
From the headaches, to the heartaches; I couldn’t possibly imagine what hurts worst! She’s smiling on the outside, sorta like me, & crying behind closed doors, praying on her knees: hoping her daughter don’t fall a victim to the streets, and become pregnant just from one lil piece of meat! The whoopings, the spankings, the beatings, the busted heads, and the loud yells are just a sign of tough of love, tryna teach a lesson, while I’m blaming myself when I should really be countin my blessings! 
Momma just wanna see me succeed, fulfill the things she wasn’t able to in life, and spend time with her on the things that her momma couldn’t. She wanna see the best in me, & honestly, I’m striving to be all I can.
Bringing home good grades, making goals, achieving goals, and playing my role. They say we can’t please every body and I guess I try too hard, but momma is one person who I wanna impress lord! 
Take care of her like she take care of me, that’s after I become all I can be! Cause I want my momma to see . . . . . . . . . I’m GONE make it!!!


An Angel's Craft

I heard an angel speak last night and he said "write"
With lantern light weary I write this morbid night
The moon above the meadows move in gloomy mist
With pen in hand, hermit a man and death amidst
Oh shall I walk the aisles of graves and hundred names
With flowers full of life financed on furnished frames
Below the wind and warmth of night do whispers woe
In fear I'm not for I care take of those below

For I have seen many a man and woman cry
And I have seen many a man and woman lie
Distilled in death with only breath of the beloved
Mourning above...mornings above heavenly loved
But something is a happening around the night
If not a dream how dost darkness so quicketh light
How frogs appear around lilies that left the fog
Where branches dance with trees beyond their childrens log
As ponds appear upon plateau of grave and sand
And stars above nomadic night come down to land
And voices of the birds play like a violin
And whispers of the wind hum like a hundred men!

It is at this moment that wings appeared to be
Uplifted from the back of her in front of me
Dear Angel, ye are he that spoketh write of thee
But in the nude in front of me am I to flee?

With hair in waves and arms extended out to see
Appeared to me...appeared to be...a flame of sea
That swept the cemeteries floor with torch and fire
And all in death consumeth life 'twas her aspire
A paradise on earth and wedding full of life
As they I have buried myself were full of light!

Women and men and children spread
A graduation of the dead
Ceremonious gift of beings
Thy conquered death, thy wearest wings!

Forth in her hands were flowers of a thousand-fold
And when she walked her footsteps formed a flood of gold
With every step a flower from her drew to ground
In mystic motion as she moved her wings would sound
Just like a brush of wind, angelic crystal wings
Face of fertility that wore a crown of rings
Unselfish all in all with fingernails of fire
Did pierce my heart into my soul a strong desire
To learn to love and love to live and live to give
Yes even in the dire darkness something lives

Believe me not and no one shall when I doth tell
The timid night I heard an Angel's voice exhale

Oh Angel it is thy that is in sacred stone
That came to me in flesh and now thy flesh is gone

Johnny Sumler
June 17, 2011
Angels In Cemeteries

Premium Member Irreconcilable Paradox

*Image of Paradox of a Mindfoolness.


Irreconcilable Paradox

The midnight sun casts about clear shadows amidst a
     twilight noon, 'tis yesterday.
The windy gale brews, astir none to wake the quietude,
     America's Guy Fawkes Day.
Watched I the beautiful orange sunset rise up above the
     rolling hills flat opened field.
Leaving my umbrella sorted at home, danced I out into
     the deluged rain spots yield. 


Ambling I briskly stood alone in a crowd, as a quandary
     cleared ere me from behind.
Menacing maintaining all matters determined found I at
     a total loss to ideas sublime. 
Brooding of the things I yet can do yesterday, I hurried 
     along to finalize nothing else.
In my rush to the airport, boards I, a train that went the
     other way past fields of elms.


My new schedule should get me to my appointment in
     the nick of time, one day late.
Know I will get that new job for 'tis the first time work I
     there as of prior' year to date.
Been unemployed for straight five years, works I out and
     in exclusively hands-on daily.
My legs are stronger as a direct cause of that makes me
     feel sick for I am e'er healthy.


Speaking on health, the car insurance is fully paid but
     wonders I, much is still owed.
On the subject of owing, our daughter's graduation day is
     today, four candles a-glowed.
The court speaking, arrangement rose criminal charges
     the prosecution, never violets.
Friends and I went to a drive-in, saw an old film just cast,
     our Model-T's all on autopilots.


In the end, we all walked out as unconditional strangers,
     familiarities sensed a oneness.
E.g.; If hail treasures of an emptied chest wouldst naught
     crusheth e'er emphatic dream.
Thence bandied wordings lay straightforwardly ere wee
     tilt scale rove archaic extreme.
The farcical tale wove abstractly, yet absolutes resolved
     parodies sage distinctiveness.


2022 February 15
*1st Place*
This or That, Vol 10
~~Edward Ibeh: Judged 2022 March 02


*NOTE: I've portrayed the extremities of paradoxes distinctive values as self-defining based on its own merits, my placement via its close proximity to its opposite, validifies that point, whereto, abstracts become absolutes distinguishing their individualism.
© Hilo Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member I Am Who I Am

I am who I am

Were you to ask where I’m from my past my tale my next of kin
the answer lies in who tells my narrative my twist what kind of spin

My autobiography is quickly shown in who I am will be in time
past present future blend in context and contingency overt and sublime

No doubt the product of genes and socialisation is rather pertinent
thus mixing and mingling draws frameworks but is also quite reticent

German ancestry Lower Saxon and East Prussian born after the War
struggling with Genocide Holocaust trans-generational down to my core

Grew up in Hamburg somewhat lonely understood by not many but few
too young in my school year a class clown a rebel a critic because I knew

Teachers could not reject or downgrade me since I got full marks in exams
so I carved out my niche opposed authority of Messieurs and Mesdames

A late child of the Student Revolution an exchange to California ensued
where hot love struck me like balm on my wounds with Gigi from Peru

After graduation I rejected being supported by my father and joined the Army
to gain independence yet the method to gain freedom now seems very barmy

Could not leave the Forces despite pretty vigorous conscientious objection
did my best to help others as a medical doctor in humanistic inception

My duties brought me to Wales by the Irish Sea with five children and marriage
country medic and farm house guiding my kids and then nuptial miscarriage

Depression struck no light at the end of the tunnel just darkness and void
too much drink downcast in my mental wheel chair and almost destroyed

Went to rehab in South Africa for treatment where God-incidence came
where I met my wife best friend lover soulmate who had suffered the same

Now I sit in the sun in South Africa stopped medicine write story and poem
reinvent  my life some inner child stuff self-actualisation and certainly growing

New awareness novel perspectives pacifism philosophy and many questions
but the knowledge that kindness love and compassion are more than suggestions

My most intimate companion apart from my gorgeous wife is depression
both showed me my path journey and meaning my own life’s repossession

So few words about where I come from who I am will become and will be
so if you wish to explore more of my roots and my future please read my poetry
Form: Verse

Premium Member Joey and Dragon Graduate

Today was the day Dragon’s brother Joey graduated from Nursing School.
And yes, Dragon wanted to be there, it was, really, going to be Sooo Cool!
Parents and students gussied up in all their finery, a sight truly to behold.
The University never, truly, looked better, as future dreams began to unfold.

And Joey gave Dragon, the best-est thing ever, his very own, special invite.
Now, we all know how things go amok, when Dragon is allowed on the site.
Every-thing was truly prepared, or so they thought, as Dragon sallied forth.
His own fire retardant Cap, Gown, and tassel to be immortalized, henceforth.

He was a part of the ceremony, to light their candles, in a symbolic gesture…
Before to the world, they, go forth, Why Dragon? Cause he’s such a treasure.
Yes, He’d receive an Honorary Degree, for all the lives, from fires, he’d saved.
Grandpa Troll was on the College Board of Directors, we were all amazed!

Apparently, Grandpa Troll had donated, a burn ward to the local Hospital…
Where our son Joey, would work, jump-starting his career, just a wee, little.
All the people Dragon had saved from fires, would be there to sing their praise.
As Joey wanted to dedicate his Nursing Career to burn patients, all his days.

It’s amazing how lives change, when strangers, are first allowed, into our lives.
And the Carpenter Trolls signed up for College, Architecture, was their drive.
Such determination, from a little Dragon egg, that was brought into our lives.
It brought so much purpose, to so many, when he chose, one morning to arrive.

Dragon roared out his glee and fire, sigh, as a surprise degree, was given to him!
All agreed no one needed the curtains, podium, or stage, as all sang, their hymn! 
Hundreds of ready fire extinguishers, came into view, a new tradition was formed.
3 new degrees, came to the College curriculum, as thankfully, no one was harmed.

What three new degrees were added, you ask? Fire fighting, Burn Units Nursing,
Plus a Psychology Degree of “what change can do for your lives, if you let it in”.
Yeah, we’re all nuts! But very innovative, as our son, suggested, the new degrees.
Then he and Dragon led the hat toss, before leading all, out the door, to be free…

Written celebrating Joeys Nursing College Graduation. 5-15-2016
For Contest: Not written for any contest... Contest


Unexpectation

two wee lads grew up in the same village---
with their houses only a short distance away
they became close friends at an early age
playing the same sports, both learning how to
play an instrument, stumbling through early flirtations with
girls & even pondering their prospective futures---
theirs was an unparalleled bromance.

upon the eve of their high school graduation,
one of the young men decided that he wanted to go to school for
marketing---
he wanted to go to school to study what he thought was a lucrative field
so that he would 
sooner than later
be rolling in the benjamins---
because, with mucho benjamins came mucho power
and with mucho power came mucho women---
this all made sense to an 18 year old who had 
only one thing on his mind.

the other young man was passionate
he was far too passionate to take on the business world
or to involve himself with anything
lucrative at all---
he took it upon himself to pursue his painting
with a few pit stops in other countries along the way
scrapping & meeting new people
meeting more new people & scrapping further.

and while one idea followed a distinct plan 
with a definable conclusion in sight,
the other path functioned without any direction 
whatsoever &
the very absence of expectation 
during the whole of his travels
made the way of the second young man’s life
seemingly much more interesting than the 
first’s.  

over the years the two individuals lost touch as things
go---
the first graduated college, began working for a big firm,
got married & moved out to the west coast---
the second went the other direction, overseas,
never rooting anywhere for more than a bit of time.

years went by
as years do,
and in time the marketing man climbed the ladder---
his dwelling grew in size
his brood multiplied
and all seemed well in happytown.

the other, whose legs continued to cross 
borders, but whose pockets never really jingled much,
he continued, without expectation.

the man with the big house &
the large family &
the jingling pockets
had planned every step so succinctly
that it seemed nothing could fail,
as each individual part thrived on the
greater monolith,
working together from within---
but at age 40 he was killed in a plane crash
with the rest of his family.

the second man kept on traveling,
he kept on painting &
he continues to
expecting nothing from this life.

If I Could Cry In Color

Intro 
I stayed up to watch the moon set 
didn't care much for the sun rising. 
I felt the heaviness in my chest 
a piece of me was mourning. 
A blue bird landed on my fence, 
but that was not surprising.

Verse 1 
I caught my reflection, 
in the mirror, 
it reminded me that I am still here. 
My world is dark and gray, 
outside I, 
I can hear, 
all the little children play 
& 
I cried for a brand new start.

(chorus) 
If only I could cry in color 
to bring life into my hurting world, 
to paint a picture so perfectly 
to fix this hurting girl. 
If my tears were bubbles 
they could easily float away, 
they wouldn't be so subtle 
dripping down my face.

And if I could cry in color 
imagine what would be. 
To paint a perfect picture 
and fix this hurting girl in me.

Verse 2 
He told her that he loved her 
and he would never leave, 
until she became a mother 
and she was only 17.

She had a lot of late nights 
and lost her chance to dream. 
She bottled up 
her regrets, 
it just wasn't what it seemed. 
She softly kisses 
her babies head, 
But her heart lets out a 
scream.

(chorus) 
If only I could cry in color 
to bring life into my hurting world, 
to paint a picture so perfectly 
to fix this hurting girl. 
If my tears were bubbles 
they could easily float away, 
they wouldn't be so subtle 
dripping down my face.

Verse 3 
17 turned 25, 
the years they seemed 
to race on by, 
my grand-baby's 
playing outside 
and the bluebirds on the fence. 

My daughter, I 
am not surprised 
took care of all 
the teary eyes 
And now its making sense

Verse 4 
She holds her growing 
daughters hand 
at her graduation, 
the view of 
the 
love they shared 
will forever shine 
without hesitation

Time has not been shy, 
43 years have passed us by, 
yet there is a blue bird on the fence. 
Reminding me of the creative paint 
and the children's innocence.

(chorus) 
If only I could cry in color 
to bring life into my hurting world, 
to paint a picture so perfectly 
to fix this hurting girl. 
If my tears were bubbles 
they could easily float away, 
they wouldn't be so subtle dripping down my face.

And if I could cry in color 
imagine what would be. 
To paint a perfect picture and fix this hurting girl in me 

Copyright © Lisanne Hassen
Form: Lyric

Edgar and Me

© Ben Burton 2-20-2015

If I were Edgar Allan Poe
I'd been dead many years ago


Two score, no more, the poet bore
Before rejoining his Lenore


Reflections now, from sixty-five
I'm wondering how I have survived


For, having shared his mental state
Induced abuse which bordered crazed


In looking back it seems most strange
The lucid fundamental change


Created in a child of eight
Whose kinship must have been innate


With one long dead, a hundred years
Before that smack upon my rear


I learned his poems, all were gems
And thought that rhyme was named for him


Read "Gold Bug" and "The Telltale Heart"
Thence, for some time I feared the dark


And as I read, I knew that I
Had, even then, the skills to write


Though modesty forbade the act
Far less than the assured attack


For none dare read foul poetry
In place of chase or hide and seek


When unassigned, a travesty
I wrote in fits, but just for me


"The Raven" and "The Bells" bequeathed
A rhythm beat of hell in me


Too natural to be mere chance
My mind would rhyme through happenstance


With no attempts to join the breed
Through school or university


I, nonetheless, read works aloud
In hopes their authors had been proud


Won competitions far and wide
Unsatisfied, the words weren't mine


And yet, I kept my pen at bay
Years past my graduation day


Jack Daniels opened up my soul
To take me on poetic strolls


Not unlike Poe who oft consumed
Whilst making sojourns to the tomb


I hungered to make words my own
Through blank verse, limerick, or song


Though mostly as a barroom trick
Which oft'times made the pick-up quick


But then, at length, I followed Poe
Officially gave up the ghost


By then I'd fifteen years surpassed
The forty Poe logged for his last


But providence did intervene
Man-made machine, propitiously


Brought back to life that muscle which
Once stilled, rarely renews its tick


My second life was born to write
To spill it all, let nothing slide


And, on ten years my pen creates
Whatever my odd mind dictates


With second chance, I wish to praise
The first man whom within me raised


A passion known as poetry
Though I am light years from his league


We met in El Dorado's dream
Two kindred souls, Edgar and me
© Ben Burton  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

The Royal Wedding

the wedding cake: $16,000-$80,000
cleaning of the streets after the wedding in london: $64,000
the flowers: $320,000-$800,000
pre-wedding hideaway (the goring hotel hosting middleton’s family & friends): $552 a night
for double rooms
middleton’s wedding dress: $64,000-$434,000
the engagement ring: valued at $136,000, given to w. by c.
security: $8-$32 million

$32,000,000
$800,000
$434,000
$136,000
$80,000
+ $64,000___
$33,514,000

*this estimated cost does not factor in the unspecified amount of time that middleton’s
family & friends will be staying for $552 a night, or how many of them, etc.

although i’m sure that
anyone
with a pulse, a half-way decently functioning brain,
and a
heartbeat
could look at the figure posited above
and find thousands of ways to invest in any number of
much
much
much
more worthy causes
than that of perpetuating an incestuous line of
figureheads
that holds absolutely
no
relevance
whatsoever
in the 21st century
but in the united states
the home of the world’s policeman
10 days ago
our blessed democratic congress
“the voice of the people”
cut
$26.6 million dollars from TRIO:

LINK:
http://www.coenet.us/ecm/AM/Template.cfm?Section=GRA_March_April_2011

for those that aren’t aware what TRIO is:

“TRIO is a set of federally-funded college opportunity programs that motivate and support
students from disadvantaged backgrounds in their pursuit of a college degree. Over 850,000
low-income, first-generation students and students with disabilities — from sixth grade
through college graduation — are served by more than 2,800 programs nationally. TRIO
programs provide academic tutoring, personal counseling, mentoring, financial guidance,
and other supports necessary for educational access and retention. TRIO programs provide
direct support services for students, and relevant training for directors and staff.”

LINK: http://www.coenet.us/ecm/AM/Template.cfm?Section=What_is_TRIO&Template=/...

happy are those that are not english citizens
as the taxpayers are said to be footing the bill of
$8-$32 million
for
security, and
$64,000 for
street cleaning after said extravaganza

one has to do their best
to keep from running amok
the day this thing happens
because of what we could really be doing with the wealth in this world

Premium Member I Open Her Old Dusty Boxes Filled With Her Memories

I OPEN HER OLD DUSTY BOXES 
FILLED WITH HER MEMORIES 

PICTURES OF FAMILY, FRIENDS AND LOVED ONES
MANY OF THE SAME PEOPLE AND SOME NEW ONES, ONLY CHANGING CLOTHS. HAIRSTYLES AND POSITIONS
OVER THE YEARS IN VARIOUS HOUSES, ROOMS AND LANDSCAPES
AND THEIR PLACES IN THE STACK OF PHOTOGRAPHS

THEY POSE, THEY PLAY, THEY PARTY
FROM BIRTH TO BIRTH

THE WEDDING, BABY AND SCHOOL CLASSROOM PHOTOGRAPHS  
WERE ALL KEPT NEATLY IN CARDBOARD FOLDERS WITH CUTOUT FRAMES EXPOSING THEM TO HER 

IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PILE BETWEEN THE BLACK AND WHITE PHOTOGRAPHS 
AND THE COLORED ONES
NEXT TO THE MARRIAGE, BIRTH, AND GRADUATION CERTIFICATES
ARE DEATH CERTIFICATES AND MASS CARDS 
GIVING US THEIR NAMES 
ALONG SIDE PICTURES OF SAINTS 

MANY OF THE EARLY BLACK AND WHITE PHOTOGRAPH OF HER PARENTS, BROTHERS AND SISTERS USED TO BE KEPT TOGETHER IN TATTERED MANILLA ENVELOPES TOWARD THE BOTTOM OF THE PILE 
AT THE TOP OF HER MEMORIES
A FEW OF THOSE MEMORIES 
VERY SPECIAL TO HER 
USED TO BE KEPT IN SIMPLE VICTORIAN FRAMES 
ON HER BEDROOM BUREAU 
ALONG WITH EARLY PICTURES OF ME, MY BROTHERS AND OUR DAD
 
THE LATER FAMILY PICTURES OF BLACK AND WHITE AND COLOR WERE KEPT IN TACKY ALBUMS
THAT AGED WITH US OVER TIME

AS THE PEOPLE PASSED ON 
NEW ONES TOOK THEIR PLACE 
ALONG WITH THE NEW MASS CARDS
GIVING US THEIR NAMES 
ALONG SIDE PICTURES OF SAINTS

THE NEW WEDDING, BABY AND SCHOOL CLASSROOM PHOTOGRAPHS  
WERE ALL KEPT NEATLY IN CARDBOARD FOLDERS WITH CUTOUT FRAMES EXPOSING THEM TO US 

I DO NOT RECOGNIZE MANY OF THOSE IN HER EARLY PHOTOGRAPHS
BUT THERE IS NO ONE LEFT TO ASK AS TO WHO THEY WERE

THE DIARIES, SCHOOL AUTOGRAPH ALBUMS AND PERSONAL PHONE BOOKS IN HER WRITING 
THAT I HAVE FOUND IN THE BOXES 
WILL GIVE LITTLE CLUE AS TO THE REAL PAST
THEY, LIKE THE POSED PHOTOGRAPHS 
WILL GIVE TO THOSE WHO WERE NOT THERE 
ONLY THE VAGUENESS INDICATION OF SPECIFIC SNAPSHOTS IN THEIR TIME 
WITHOUT ANY OF THE CONNECTING TISSUES. 

PART OF THE MEMORIES FOUND IN THE SMALL BOXES WERE THE PERFUMES, JEWELRY AND PILLS THAT SHE WORE 
THAT GOT HER FROM ONE EVENT TO THE NEXT. 

THE MEMORIES THAT WERE IN THESE BOXES 
ARE ALL GONE 
OUT INTO THE WORLD
AND ALL THAT REMAINS
ARE THE PAPERS AND THINGS THAT ONCE WERE
LAYING IN THE BOXES IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER COLLECTING DUST 
AND WAITING FOR SOMEONE 
SOMEDAY 
TO PICK THEM UP 
AND WONDER WHAT AND WHO THEY WERE.
Form: Bio

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