Long High point Poems
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A true story.
Here I was,
23 or 24...
Classed an "Executive"
NYC Dept Store Chain,
"Executive" label meant
I could work overtime
For one half of my normal salary...
But a fool sees stars
Where he should see crime
Promoted "Furniture Buyer"....
Big Ticket spot....
They seemed out to prove
Smart I was not.
Big Furniture Market,
High Point, N.C.,
Invited out to dinner,
By big shot vendor....
Oh...whoop, whoop, yea!
Of course, my stuffy boss
was there,
In the next chair
At this odd restaurant...
"The Factory" it's name,
After that night,
I was never looked at the same....
Big shot, Big City....
Big Fool....
It wasn't pretty....
The menu did start
Entrees priced more
Than my annual salary
And I'm confused
There's a boiler next to me!
So this Big City Buyer,
In his $99.00 suit
Ordered a shrimp cocktail,
Oh, what a hoot!
Lights flashing....
Like Studio 54
I had no idea
What I was in for!
Got my shrimp cocktail,
Oh, I do love my shrimp!
But the lemon wedge,
Was wrapped up
My mind now a' crimp
In this decorative yellow stuff,
All fit with a bow....
How do I open it, I wondered...
I wanted to know...
But I'm a Big Shot NYC Buyer,
Sure, I've seen it all....
How dare these dumb hicks...
Have such a gall!!
I took my fork,
I took my knike....
I started trying to open
This thing like....
It meant my very life!
I was struggling,
And sweating,
And frustrated and mad
Got some of the weirdest looks
I ever have had...
These Carolina Hicks...
Out to make a fool of me...
Slowly I realized
Everyone looking at me...
My boss's eyes swollen
In shame
How dumb his young buyer
Should be in a cornfield
And call himself "Town Crier"
Eventually I learned....
This stuff was called
"Cheese-cloth"
Ridiculous I thought...
No cheddar or swiss
Like this had I ever bought...
In silence I remained
Through the rest of my meal....
To me the biggest embarrassment
To me the biggest deal....
Big City Hot Shot Buyer...
Dumb as a farm hand.....
Put in a Manhattan restaurant...
Without but a strand....
Of what was, what wasn't
Of how, and of why...
All I wanted to do
Is to crawl under a rock
And die!
(This is true!!!)
There is a voice within my head,
he’s been there all my life,
I’ve learned not to talk much of it,
or folks say, “He ain’t right.”
Some would thing that I’ve gone insane,
that I should go get help,
but the voice has done me no hard,
as far as I can tell.
If fact he seems to cheer me on
through every turn and twist,
I know this doesn’t make much sense,
but please consider this:
When I was eleven years old
I had a soccer game,
I wasn’t much the sporting type,
my performance was…lame.
They liked to put me on defense
so I couldn’t screw up,
but the last game of the season
I had a change in luck.
I had moved up to the midfield
and the ball came to me,
before me stood an open shot
and distracted goalie.
Instead of joy I felt frozen,
like all had gone amiss,
then the voice said, “You’re in the clear!
Go for it, you’ve got this!”
Needless to say, I made that shot,
my athletic high point,
was so happy I didn’t mind
that I had pulled my groin.
But six years later I did find
myself in a hard place,
this time it was over a girl
with a heavenly face.
The people all called her Trissa,
she seemed out of my reach,
my hands would get all clammy if
around her I did speak,
but somehow I worked up the nerve
to ask her to the prom,
as I walked up every heartbeat
seemed as loud as a bomb.
To think such a woman would deign
to give me just one kiss…
but the voice said, “She’s scared as you,
stand firm, boy, you’ve got this.”
Can you believe the voice was right?
We dated for five years,
got married right out of college,
then the real world appeared.
It was much harder than a school,
the workloads were intense,
I knew so little I don’t know
how I survived back them.
Moreover Triss soon fell pregnant,
and quietly, inside,
I feared knowing that small person
upon me would rely.
How could I shoulder all that weight?
I struggled at my job,
what kind of life could I provide,
I feared they’d both feel robbed.
But what I held that tiny girl,
saw her sleeping in bliss,
the voice spoke up and made it plain,
“Just relax, we’ve got this...”
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
I was reading Aristotle,
because I am just weird like that,
and as I poured through ancient words
I was presented with the fact
that what I read from classic times
saw far deeper then I can see,
he’s twenty-three centuries dead,
and somehow still smarter than me.
But there’s no shame in learning from
the writings of a genius mind,
and it’s comforting that we still
have this wisdom from bygone times,
but then I stop and remember,
when I have looked at all he wrote,
it’s tempting to think we have all,
but the truth of it is, we don’t.
We’ve got maybe a third of it,
and do we even have his best?
The rest of it has disappeared,
it wasn’t copied with the rest.
The originals longs rotted,
what we have copies made by monks,
what they had not, or valued low
has now forever been undone.
And though some people do assume
that all the best stuff was retained,
I think of all the books I’ve read,
from the genius to the inane,
and noticed that great wisdom can
sometimes come from an average read,
that one high point in the banal,
and who knows just where that might lead?
So even if the best remain,
and all the average works were tossed,
it still truly depresses me
when I realize all that we’ve lost.
Now Aeschylus wrote ninety plays,
and only six of them are left,
Sophocles wrote one hundred twenty,
now to seven can we attest.
And given how much those few plays
have shaped drama down through the age,
can you imagine what we’d have
if all those stories still remained?
In history there was Livy,
who wrote the long story of Rome,,
in one hundred forty-two books,
today just thirty-five are known.
The Iliad, The Odyssey,
Two great epics we all revere…
that cycle had six more poems,
and not one of them have we here.
Even the Bible refers to
countless books we no longer know,
what would our faiths all look like now
if to those texts we still could go?
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
I wonder who I am sometimes, what seems to be a universal phenomenon. As everyone remains looking to be someone other than themselves, because those who are themselves are persecuted and dreams hung on the cross by society.
But as I wonder the colorful atmosphere of those around me tend to judgingly remind me exactly who I am and what I’m capable of accomplishing.
Because they assume before they even get the chance to know me, my story, why I act, talk, or dress different, why I smell another fragrance, perceive, taste, and feel the world inversely.
Under my skin they shoot before they ask, a trigger finger itching as the deadly explosion blast piercing the body of another innocent soul. Slavery is illegal now but we still hang.
Hang pictures up of loved ones taken through an unjust act, if you listen closely you can still hear the sound of invisible shackles as I walk and fall to my death…click clack, clic clac, click…a heart beating but dead now the heart no longer beats…
Under my skin if I put my hoodie up I might as well wear a mask, to hide the sinister agenda people assume I carry. Sometimes I just want some shade to block out all the negative rain on a summer day.
And when I succeed they assume I’m cheating, because my plateau has no high point or high ground. I’m a flat line, dead to success, and they put me here.
It’s a little misleading when all your hard work just falls off the deep end, because they look at you as if you have a red hand or you’re the bandit.
And if I bought it I could never own it because under my skin without acting I’ve already sinned.
How can you win when you can’t control the end?
All I can say is never stop praying and keep grinding until the end, because God controls the future. So never let someone else control you through “You cant’s or you’ll Nevers.”
P.S. I am black lives, THIS IS JUST A POST SCRIPT.
Where is your Superwoman today
Your triple A game to win every play.
To take the light to its height
To be the hand of nature and of might
To breathe in the victory
Every movement a high point of history,
To turn even the heartbeats of falling snowflakes
Into blinging diamonds of success's keepsakes
Surge with relish thru the sweet eternity
That lies in the smallest moments serenity
Standing ready not just to fight
But to set it all just sweetly right, sweetly right
Where is your Superwoman today
Your best game face for every play.
The vision of it all going super right
Thru your hands of nature and of might
Link your heart to a giant star
And call down the winning power from afar
Erasing your worries and your fears
A waterfall of happiness that lasts for years.
Feel your strength boost as you move
Plucking strands of victory to the grove
Space and time moulded just like clay
For constant victories thru the day
Where is your Superwoman today
The one who helps you along the way.
Who helps you cast away the doubts
And cheers you on with winning shout outs.
See yourself as always whole
Moving surely towards the goal
You set and meet and then exceed
Thru the cascade of successes you proceed
Better than any other woman or man
Surpass nature at its core plan
Set new sights never before seen
Boldly go where no one has yet been
Where is your Superwoman today
Your triple A game to win every play.
To take the light to its height
To be the hand of nature and of might
Your life is your right
Your best is always in sight
To get it you must take it
Your life is your right
Your best is always in sight
Closing each eternal moment with a winning spirit.
by Davieo, David Rothchild
St. James Discernment Question Answers
Thank you answering these questions and helping the Discernment Committee
with it's work.
From: James Thomas Horn
#1 Remember a moment that was a high point, when you felt our church was doing God's work
and fulfilling its mission... What was happening?
Answer1: Choir was singing at Arbor Landing for Christmas and I was in
the choir. What we always would desire, Was to be singing in the
choir; Each sound, Made hearts pound; Our singing had been
designed to inspire. It was a joyous experience watching people
enjoying our singing. They had a piano there we should have used.
#2 Name three things you value most about this congregation.
Answer2:
Friendliness
Sincerity
Thoughtfulness
#3 Look back over your entire life... recall a time when you most appreciated the ministry of a priest.
What was happening? What did you appreciate?
Answer3: When my dad was killed on active duty in Navy and I was 15 and
an acolyte in an Episcopal Church in 1956. Joe Buchanan was his
name at Church of the Epiphany in Norfolk, VA on Lafayette
Boulevard. I still remember church and his name.
#4 What will be our congregation's 3 most exciting, energizing, and important accomplishments to you
over the next 3 years?
Answer4:
Continue being a motivating factor in local community.
Provide a group who is interested in preparing and reading
poetry.
Have a quarterly musical recital and invite whole neighborhood
to it.
Comments: Say a prayer for Father Dave's brother who is severely ill in
Atlanta, GA. Oh, and it was great having young workers come here
from Episcopal Church in Jacksonville, NC area.
Your response has been emailed to the Discernment Committee
Form:
With trepidation, a card from the Seer's deck, she drew
In hopes she get some insight on what she should do
Decipher why she attracts men that are afraid to commit
Continue to work two jobs, if not, then which to omit?
She flipped over a card and was overjoyed to see 'The Sun'
Predicting good health, happiness, love, vitality...all rolled into one
She cleared her mind and prepared to have her fortune read
Promising herself to take in stride everything the physic said.
Things are going good for you, your finances are in good shape.
Make that appointment with your financial advisor to avoid red tape
All the hard work you put into your job is noticed by many
Your a natural in your field and your rewards will be plenty.
People are drawn to you because you always see the bright side
Radiate who you are and what you stand for, don't hold it inside
In your life, you'll be able see the truth with a capital 'T'
You have the knowledge and life tools to be who you need to be
In love, relationships will reach new levels of connection, harmony and bliss
Don't put all your eggs in one basket,... girl please always remember this
Get out and enjoy your life, be your true self and let your intuition be your guide
Everything happens for a reason, fretting about will only eat you up inside
Your health and feelings of well-being are at a high point
Your attitude will be more positive, you'll feel less out of joint
The universe is conspiring in your favour, all insecurities will be bid adieu
Good choices are adding up to create a great life, welcome to a new you!
Sponsor ~ Tracie- Indigo Dreamweaver
Contest Name ~ Tarot Poem
Tarot card ~ 'The Sun'
The man lept from our balcony row and landed directly on Tebow and K'Vnulash, who began to tongue kiss passionately, realizing their final moments were at hand. It was not a gory explosion, but one that inspired thirst. We stopped by the Liquor store on the way home, almost parking in the spot that nobody parks in because it's filled with broken glass. I crunched over it with my wooden-soled plaid crocs and entered the swill-exchange. The clerk procured one bottle of Popovs, but my eye saw an 8 oz. flask of Thunderbird nestled between a quart of Bailey's and the dirt-flanged walls of the establishment. I questioned the price, and found I was several dollars short. I returned to my vehicle and informed coraline of the problem, to which she replied with a most devious and predictably effective plan: crush up the bottle of aspirin in the glove compartment and hock it as coke to some dumb junkie in the alley. This alley was around the corner, a dead-zone of perpetual shade between towering concrete and steel dildos, ever stretching to the possibly homophobic sun. As I entered the triangle of darkness in search of a derelict, some stringy white liquid landed on my forehead from what must have been a very high point, as it stung with velocity. I concluded that it was a message from Zoroaster, who revealed to me that it was actually the product of a frittering stock jockeys mid-morning wank finished out the window. Thank Zoroaster. I quickly found an unfortunate and vapid urchin who gladly exchanged eight dollars for a paltry sum of ground aspirin. He snorted it immediately.
I said: praise Zoroaster
The Middle Time is now upon me,
The tune to which I dance grows somewhat thin;
A ghost remembrance of that cacophonous din
To which my steps were measured in my youth.
I know there lies now less before
Than all those days that lay within
The sepulcher of careless memory passed,
I apprehend the sometime bitter truth
That evil days approach my door
When much of what I've come to love will bid its leave
As I be forced to gaze aghast
At sights my eyes would fain not see,
When I to faithful hope must cleave.
Yet, what better time than this, the high point of the feast?
That Jester, Youth, has left the table
Leaving us the better able
To speak of things which more befit the greyed brow,
Matters weighty and sublime
Which better suit our natures now, though perhaps in tone more sable
Than such issues as delight the Fool,
Content the simpleminded sow -
Let us worthily pass the time
To Banquet's End, in company merry and refined,
Reviewing all we gained in Life's long school -
Establish what we value most and least,
Then say we fed our souls while yet we dined.
O grieve not that thy step be not so quick nor light
As t'was it's wont to be in bygone days,
Nor pine for carefree, childish ways -
They had their time, and sweet they were,
But now thou hast a surer, measured step
Nobler thoughts - the ones which stay,
Youth for all its joyful folly
Is not a state forever to prefer
To mind and manner better kept
From fancies and seductions strange;
Who but a Fool would be forever jolly
To deny his Midlife's further sight,
It's deeper view, it's wider range?
Form:
The sky looks like a Turner painting.
At the high point it’s brighter,even golden cream
Like the top of a bottle of Jersey milk;
then it dims down to a bluey gray
with a slight threat in it
like a blacker gray…It’s
Too warm today for snow.
I swept brown dried leaves from the step..
Had to move my bike.
Then I hid them under the hedge
So they can keep some insects warm in the winter.
But mainly I don’t want to bend down to collect them,,
I’m tired or lazy after the weekend.
I still have a dress here I was ironing just a week or two ago.
Now it will be put away till next summer.
Here’s a denim jacket with flowers all over…
I did wear it but it won’t look right now.
I washed my hair.It feels soft and pleasant.
I like that feeling.I am wondering what you are doing.
Are you listening to music or resting?
Or sitting looking down the road at wet fields?
I think I’ll make some tea.
I need a focus for the day which also has a feeling
Like those late watercolors
Everything merging
Until one thing dissolves into an other.
Some people like it but today
I need some edge,some definition.
I need someone to give me boundaries.
Time 4 pm
Kettle boils and a neighbor’s cat peers by the locked cat flap…
Wondering why she can’t get in.
I turn away.
Now the sky is without any gold
It’s fifty shades of gray.
It’s clouded dark and soft
Like your hair might have been
But I could never have touched it…
You were always too far away and moving.....
Form: