Long High hope Poems
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Grim reaper scion donned as nodule on lung...
Lodged squarely upon corporeal property
(i.e. necessary soft tissue)
of Amelie Beth Harris-McGeehan
mine eldest sister,
when medical technician informed
aforementioned unpleasant tidings
earlier today February 25th.
Utmost grievousness grips
analogous to invisible
strong hands strangulating
"I can't breathe"
while grappling trying to process
apocalyptic forebodings
(impinging on mine corporeal
fifty plus shades of gray matter).
Impossible mission
(insync with absent impetus),
thus renders feeble attempt
crafting poem,
yet unbridled (hyperbole
employed to accentuate emotion)
regarding brotherly love
upon being informed
most unpleasant tidings.
Laughter and sunshine
eradicated in one fell swoop
absolute zero peace of mind
until fortune teller
peers into crystal ball
and invokes divine intervention
whereby life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness
buffets thee along
countless additional Earth orbits
around the sun
granted second lease on life.
Auspicious signs of
early birds taking wing
(in an effort to feast
upon diet of worms)
to celebrate advent of Spring
will be uber twittering
glad tidings of your
clean bill of health
ditto chattering squirrels
buzzfeeding unearthed
soil, mushrooms
and animal bones,
while yours truly delights
reading within partially secluded
outside triangulated nook,
(a favorite alcove of mine)
to bask under sheltering sky
feeling restoration of vitality
courtesy Herculean strength
of Mister Sun's powerful solar rays.
PostScript: my humblest apology
if word first choice constituting title
caused undue agitation,
cuz only genuine expression
courtesy unwavering optimism
insync with sixth sense intended
to trumpet Taj Mahal high hope
buoying your body,
mind, and spirit triage.
I lover her.
Am madly in love with her.
But she was a cancer patience.
But still I love her.
I saw everyday how she was reaped.
Everyday she was turn apart.
My heart beat softly like it will tear apart.
It was sad knowing she will still leave me
It won't contain me
The thought will kill me.
But she told me she will stop taking treatment.
Not anymore she don't want to have high hope.
So I gave her special treatment.
Dose of love, but still she was dying.
And am still trying, trying to make her not to close her eyes finally.
But she next day I wanted to pull her cap.
Her hair fell off.
My beat, it skipped like it will rip off.
She smilled and said it okay.
I didn't want to lose her, I felt like going with her
But her last wishes before she closed her eyes was live on Chris.
She gave me a kiss.
I was praying but it of no use.
She was going to die anyways.
So I make everyday count, I never left one day without going out wif her.
I smilled.
We smilled
Like nothing was going to happen.
But by the night death was walking around wanting to take her away.
I was scared. So I begged to give me the night.
I kissed her
She slept in my arm but in the morning she was gone.
Why would you candidly care who you beat?
Let them sigh and squirm, no need to retreat.
Are you one of the ones willing to cheat?
It makes the elitist's pain more replete.
The Founders thought fairness helps all compete,
cheating, the word we dassent dare repeat.
Many march on, there can be no defeat;
this passion makes lives forever complete.
Self-righteousness is the high hope we heed,
even if it will not serve every need.
When we win, we will then soundly succeed;
rightfully reaching our true status, creed -
for those part of this tribe, like us indeed.
Bold fallen foes surely deserved to bleed.
This is the fresh start of a brand new breed,
from their yoke we are all finally freed!
Contrarian concepts should be banned,
let us go back to times things were once grand.
Free up our spirits let pure hearts expand,
all shall strive to the death, never disband!
We fought for this, it ought to be our land;
with God's rules they must meet every demand.
This Union will fail, no way it can stand;
as we cheat, it shall soon be well in hand.
24 Lines 192 Words Monorhyme
Unheard voice of the partisan.
Voting Rights/Gerrymandering/Elections
The HIGH hope/ Financial FREEDOM
There one meets oneself
To offer everything
You lost it, you lose yourself
To bring it
It runs and goes round
It's silent and makes sound
Wanna make full mama purse
I am dying for it to get bless
The wise say Freedom is not free
the wise is me
But financial freedom is Pandora's tree
To grow wild, to be the shade and shadow
Setting the mark to look up and below
The love of money lets faded my purity
And not having it puts me on the casket of inferiority
I die today to rise above tomorrow
To share the tear, to clear Mama's sorrow
To have a bunch of it, I will set myself for the death raw
I felt like a garbage collector standing on the corner
Hustling so hard money for the shower
Our life is fitly when the hope is up
Am the man of the hour and rise above the crap
liberation operating eternally Unfolding a world of light
bright ideas no penny to start lost gaze in the sight
Am gonna be alright ….
Cause financial freedom is the hope
Cause that's the trophy I want to cope
Dope hope...the imagination of empty poke
Today, 2025.3.09@08:46:00
Here I am again at Geelong.
Not only I am alone, but also unhappy.
My trip over the long weekends had been altered and changed,
Not by the weather nor a new plan,
Simply by some body who has no sense of responsibilities.
I shall not loose any of my time and energy,
On a person like this.
He gave me a book,
In which he described himself as a loner.
And disclosed so many of his unacceptable behaviours,
But not a word of his selfishness nor breaking promises characters.
By now, I am happy and relief,
Visiting one of my favourite beaches.
The Geelong icon, "Manningham" pier,
The newly built hook shaped Yarra Street pier,
In less than 90 minutes,
I shall be on my way to Apollo Bay.
I do not know if I am going to have big waves,
Which knocked me to the ground and hurt my knees,
I do not mind at all, because
I was not promised by the nature,
I will embrace what so ever,
Big or small, rough or gentle,
Not like some people,
Give you high hope and drop you like hot potato.
I knew I was a loner, but I will never be a loser.
Moon Tuning…
Peeping down through
the closed blind,
reflecting moon spy-tease
the created mind;
manipulating the running
of ebony-hued time,
trying to canvas a poem
with lines that rhyme.
Now if you knew how to rap,
this would be a snap
but it’s not so easy
in the wee hours, without a nap.
Yet, when you’ve survived
the trials of another day,
It’s not really that hard to scribe
what you need to say.
Here in the home of the brave
and the land of the free,
we have yet to cave
racism and abject bigotry.
While cold war debates
continue their drum major runs,
sacred lives remain, victims of hate,
and free-firing lawless guns.
No longer can we let the fearful minority
keep us in such dire calamity.
Like the ancestors dead and gone,
we too must fight against evil and wrong;
rising up and claiming our prized liberty.
Let us not leave coming generations
without worthiness and high hope.
Let us not insult our ancestral patrons
who fought and won the right to vote.
Peeping down through
the closed blind,
reflecting moon spy-tease
the created mind;
manipulating the running
of ebony-hued time,
trying to canvas a poem
with lines that rhyme.
Now if you knew how to rap,
this would be a snap
but it’s not so easy
in the wee hours, without a nap.
Yet, when you’ve survived
the trials of another day,
It’s not really that hard to scribe
what you need to say.
Here in the home of the brave
and the land of the free,
we have yet to cave
racism and abject bigotry.
While cold war debates
continue their drum major runs,
sacred lives remain victims of hate
and free-firing lawless guns.
No longer can we let the fearful minority
keep us in such dire calamity.
Like the ancestors dead and gone,
we too must fight against evil and wrong;
rising up and claiming our prized liberty.
Let us not leave coming generations
without worthiness and high hope.
Let us not insult our ancestral patrons
who fought and won the right to vote.
One day, one may go
In places we don't want to know
Just assure that your name is written
Embossed in gold shining in heaven.
Yes, I'm preaching
To the soul that's needing repair
I'm talking to all who hears His teaching
To warn a deluge will come so each life may spare.
The world is delicate right now
Rumors of Armageddon is creeping
I do hope Moscow show love somehow
So we can live a life we want for keeping.
Somehow Nostradamus has more to say
Than the Political Analyst wants to debrief
Believers of God and Peace Makers always pray
That all is well that ends well finds a relief.
I have high hope that World Leaders do good
So United Nation not bedeviled and not be unguided
That life may continue to thrive and not be booed
By Devils who want this world to be divided.
The Second Coming is here then
If you just know it in your heart
He is now intervening the affairs of men
We just have to chose our role and take our part.
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WISH YOU LUCK IN YOUR FUTURE PURSUITS
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HOWEVER HORBOR HIGH HOPE for writing
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WELL WRITTEN WORTHY WORK, but regret
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(Oxymoron and Alliteration)
Seventh place winner in
Contest: FREE FOR ALL DO AS YOU PLEASE In honor of Charles Henderson
As when you wake upon the day smoldering
Aware not yet, quite yet sad burdens shouldering
Skies light white wisps float high, hope new again
Motion ignites the soul that feeds what’s been
All conscious now of eternal recurrence
And returning to returning the groove
Set golden and red fires to my thoughts
Of all things that’ve been and all things that’ve not
And the perpetuity of it all doth soothe
The intricate patterns the webs unseen
We rise, we fall in small circles and grand
Repeats to each all time n’ over again
And we, you, I, they all follow refrain
And succumb we must free will to fates plan
I’ve seen it all at ONCE they come they go
Upon a mountain top the Fakir cries
And rounds back vibrations to the skies,
I’ve seen it all at ONCE they come they go
We rise upon golden suns forever
This thought survives my death, dies never
All lives fixed and lasting eternally in the hope of new lives