Long Hire Poems
Long Hire Poems. Below are the most popular long Hire by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hire poems by poem length and keyword.
I am fascinated by space science because it is so divine. I am fascinated by space science because everything it entails is sublime. Human operates machine and machine work for human; human input the information but the machine regurgitates it.
Its AI and automation against human invention, e-commerce and job outsourcing in reverse. If you cannot pay me let me go to those who are willing to hire me, but please don’t use me and then you discard me. You lurk behind the screen saying that you have run out of money and you cannot bring me back to fulfill my dreams.
I don’t join games because I don’t know to play them, I don’t play games because am not good at winning them. I don’t play games because I don’t know the rules and sometimes it leaves you confused. I approach everything in life in a pragmatic and realistic manner.
You place the burden on the commuter saying that it is giving the order; computer is not human and someone must operate it to transfer the information to you, oh what silly deprivation. You are trying to elude reality and not living up to your responsibility, the ship will be at the surface on time and you must give me what is mine.
You have built more than a dozen space ship with words dripping from my lips; you have sent missions to the moon with words burning from my finger tips and vinegar is draining in my lungs; with swollen fingers and broken palm words flow from my heart into the computer gut before dawn, and then you slice it up and serve it for breakfast dinner and lunch and disrespect my painful sacrifice, and you call it AI.
I work day and night and because I don’t know how to fight I continue to stretch myself to fulfill a mandate for the moon. You send me into the space to explore the galaxy and look into the black hole to see where gravity is bold and the space around the corner lit up with billions of stars flickering in the night, oh what a wonderful sight.
Will machine eventually take over human lives after decades of painful sacrifice? Will machine takes over our lives and leave us without a dime? Nights upon nights the human brain toil to fill the machine sitting on the throne but sometimes the gripe is so strong it vomits out on the land and my eyeball spread the words all over the human race and squeeze matter into tiny space. It man against woman and one woman working with computer.
HOW CLOSE WILL YOU GET?
There was a man who wanted someone to drive him ‘round
The hills and lanes and corners there in the little town.
And so he ran a want ad to hire someone one day,
“I want to hire a driver to take me on my way.”
He waited for the answers in his house upon the hill,
And one by one they came there to try this job to fill.
Now this old man was living not far from a steep cliff,
So as he talked to each man, this question he went with:
“You see that cliff out yonder? I want to know how near
You’d drive my fancy carriage without a single fear.”
The first said, “I can take it within just ten short feet.”
“I’ll let you know,” he answered, “when my interviews are complete.”
The second said, “Just five feet’s how close that I can go.”
And once again he answered, “Good-bye, I’ll let you know.”
The third man was most daring as he portrayed his skill,
“I’ll come within just one foot of that steep rugged hill!”
The old man was impressed, but did not decide just yet,
And one more man was questioned to see how close he’d get.
The final man was summoned, and after he walked in
And he was asked that question, this driver said to him,
“Sir, I’m not going to try it to see how close I’d go;
It’s not that I am fearful or driving do not know,
But I feel it is safer to stay as far away
From there as I can drive you; that’s all that I can say.”
“You’re hired!” the old man shouted, “you start for me today!
I wanted one who’d keep me as far as he could stay
From that old cliff so rugged, lest he should lose control
And plunge my carriage over that rocky, rugged knoll.”
This story has a lesson on how we live our life
And fight the devil daily with all his tempting strife.
He lures us with life’s pleasures to see how far we’ll go
Before we stop and realize the sad, impending woe.
We’re better if we travel far from that rugged hill
And stay close to the Saviour and try to do His will.
The key to righteous living is not to take a bet
And gamble with the devil on just how close we’ll get
Without a sin or stumble and still control our life;
It isn’t worth the gamble, it isn’t worth the strife.
Just do like that one driver and vow to God today,
“Lord, I’m not going to fail You, see how far I can stray.
I’ll do my best to serve You with every day I live;
I’ll stay close to You, Saviour, my all to You I’ll give.”
I also feel blasé today February 19th, 2024
Linkedin to being lax,
and shirking house cleaning tasks,
which negligence cost us
(yours truly and the missus)
a golden opportunity
to relocate to Hillcrest Village
in Boyertown, Pennsylvania
another HUD subsidized property
under the aegis of Grosse and Quade,
one of the larger residential
property management firms
in the Delaware Valley.
Physical unwellness
(insync with racing heart) arose
because Kathleen Bergen
the new property manager
here at 2 Highland Manor
voiced absolute zero positive feedback,
upon taking lock, stock, and barrel
of appalling living conditions,
her blistering vocalization
(from wuthering heights)
translated as a foregone conclusion
against our hopes
pinned on moving into
two bedroom apartment
referenced above topmost lines.
Said plummeted disappointment
(courtesy blunt admission
out the mouth of
(humpty dumpty sat on a wall)
frumpty recent hire
identified in a previous poem
as new warden)
verbosely predicated upon
gross appearance of living space
immediately dashed cautious optimism
citing unkempt state
within no crater than
moonwalking unit b44,
whereby we wished to skadaddle
far away from obligation
to be mindful of rules and regulations
codified within a binding lease.
Unlikely home ownership
will ever come to pass,
nor the lesser prospect
to rent more spacious domicile
larger than a one bedroom apartment,
no bigger than a bread box
den me and the missus,
(a hen pecking spouse)
might befriend Bugs Bunny,
who might guarantee
adequate sized rabbit hole
constituting large enough wonderland
receiving stamp of approval
courtesy Alice in Chains
subsidized lodging money back
plus additional warren tee
granted by Mister Michael Fox,
who took me back to the future,
when the pace of life
plodded along at leisurely rhythm.
Only within outer limits
realm of twilight zone,
where dark shadows
inch along edge of night
(while two thumbs and index finger
belonging to separate good sports
grab hold the furcula
(or wishbone) structure
formed by the ventral fusion
of the right and left clavicles
and the median interclavicle
silently mouth invocation)
holds at bay, the inexplicable phenomena
moored, harbored, and docked
awaiting lucky recipient,
whose merrythought bestowed
upon he/she, they/them.
Here are questions that I would be asking Trump.
have many crosses to burn
why never will take your turn
before start did adjorn
poor things have proposed
why are you being exposed
lying we supposed
with supporters mingles
and why do you have shingles
while dry skin tingles
only lies have sought
why forget to take your shot
beneath collar be hot
burn things to stubble
why do you cause much trouble
face on balloon bubble
have called heart a spade
why are you always afraid
not keep proms made
made bad selection
why start an insurection
need much protection
hearing you am bored
why never pray to the Lord
false teeth you have stored
stolen each mitten
why records have you hidden
which are forbidden
supporters ignore
why do plat golf so poor
steal from local store
questions Trump will ask
why never complete a task
fat body in sun basque
why would you hire
someone you what to fire
and do desire
on head has orange hair
why will you mask never wear
made from underware
questions will ask Trump
why have you been such a grump
on back have big hump
several lies say
why do you mess up my day
for crimes never pay
Trump is surely dumb
while having been a beach bum
with bag full of scum
some say Trump while screech
so why should him we impeach
always lowdown leach
Trump seems full of glum
with you why is only doom
your rot in each room
raises much static
why make things problematic
being drug addict
if you want to more add
when I read them will be glad
news Trump has been bad
Trump has blowing his stack
why would you
want to come back
while making wise crack
Trump has lost his wits
why would you have called it quits
should be blown to bits
If you did not laugh
should take another warm bath
Be burned with much wreath
Trump started screaming
Why no features redeeming
Bright orange hair beaming
never passed a test
why her body did you molest
we were not impressed
Trump likes to linger
Why are you a bad singer
Flipped up his finger
Trump let bed bugs bite
why temptation do you fight
run away in freight
Trump motto he made
why on market do you trade
when of sense not a blade
born without a brain
why did Trump become insane
always will remain
His lies plentiful
Trump why is posture pitiful
and brain miiscule
Welcome, Summer
by Geoffrey Chaucer
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Now welcome, Summer, with your sun so soft,
since you’ve banished Winter with her icy weather
and driven away her long nights’ frosts.
Saint Valentine, in the heavens aloft,
the songbirds sing your praises together!
Now welcome, Summer, with your sun so soft,
since you’ve banished Winter with her icy weather.
We have good cause to rejoice, not to scoff,
since love’s in the air, and also in the heather,
whenever we find such blissful warmth, together.
Now welcome, Summer, with your sun so soft,
since you’ve banished Winter with her icy weather
and driven away her long nights’ frosts.
Whoso List to Hunt
by Sir Thomas Wyatt
loose translation/interpretation/modernization by Michael R. Burch
Whoever longs to hunt, I know the deer;
but as for me, alas!, I may no more.
This vain pursuit has left me so bone-sore
I'm one of those who falters, at the rear.
Yet friend, how can I draw my anguished mind
away from the doe? Thus, as she flees before
me, fainting I follow. I must leave off, therefore,
since in a net I seek to hold the wind.
Whoever seeks her out, I relieve of any doubt,
that he, like me, must spend his time in vain.
For graven with diamonds, set in letters plain,
these words appear, her fair neck ringed about:
"Touch me not, for Caesar's I am,
And wild to hold, though I seem tame."
Brut
by Layamon, circa 1100 AD, an excerpt
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Now he stands on a hill overlooking the Avon,
seeing steel fishes girded with swords in the stream,
their swimming days done,
their scales a-gleam like gold-plated shields,
their fish-spines floating like shattered spears.
If you see a busker singing for tips, you're seeing someone carrying on an Anglo-Saxon tradition that goes back to the days of Beowulf …
He sits with his harp at his thane's feet,
Earning his hire, his rewards of rings,
Sweeping the strings with his skillful nail;
Hall-thanes smile at the sweet song he sings.
—"Fortunes of Men" loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Keywords/Tags: Chaucer, rondel, roundel, welcome, summer, sun, winter, weather, frost, songbirds, song, love, night, nights, ice, icy, heaven, heavens, sky, Wyatt, hunt, busker, thanes, Anglo-Saxon, Beowulf
I am dreaming the past
Past when KBC was the only station
Each morning started with the anthem of the nation
We had to know your intention
Before saying anything through the station
Each anchor had a level of education
While talent was just an addition
Any deviation
Captured the important attention
Of the head of the nation
Dreaming my past
Is all I want to do last
Streams of dreams I rather forget fast
Like dreams from my father
That choices have consequences
A grammatical sentence that became our sentence
Is every correctly stated statement correct?
This kind that litters my mind
Making me bitter
Tearing my heart into litres of tears
These dreams make me shy
Shy to try mention my name
My name that brings me shame
Shame I cant tame
Cant tame because my mind is lame
Tell me why my kind cant cry
When all I dream are tongues of fire
From gangs on hire
With orders from higher
Higher rot that burns like fire.
Dreaming that I cant have money in my pocket
Without getting something in their jacket
Vampires so scary
Scattered in my neighborhood
Thirsty for the last drop of my blood
Limiting my limitless potential
Potential so essential
For resource mobilization
With equal allocation not hurting expectation
For relocation before suffocation.
Dreams to revitalize my generation
A possible solution for this situation
In transformation of my nation
To grow without corruption
That is like sugar
Sweeter it becomes
And disaster it welcomes
But I dare dreams
Of peaceful elections
An end to preventable infections
Through certified injections
And an education without leakage
As a privilege
For everyone in my village
Laying my head on the pillow
Feels like my heart becomes hollow
From the beams of dreams that follow
Makes me want to jump from the window
And fall on the ground so low
Flickering pain into my bone marrow
Afraid it could happen again on the morrow
What do you see in your dreams?
Streams of dreams that my head cant keep
Make me wish for beams of dreams to turn the leaf
Of people who have a resolve and a belief
That we are better together
And we need each other
Without a bother
Of clannism
Of tribalism
Of racism
But a nation of inclusion
By implementation of all legislation
In word and spirit
Envisioned in our constitution
That beams our dream.
An email written to eldest daughter
December 28th, 2019,
which unwittingly, magically, accidentally...
resurfaced while scrolling
thru outdated emails
and OpenOffice documents of mine
thee evening of February 20th, 2022.
The remaining lines
comprising reasonable poetic rhyme
sent to said offspring
more than two plus years ago
and dada feels grief no more, cuz time
heals all wounds.
Papa unexpectedly overtaken with woe
flashback shook me complex edifice
head, shoulder, knees in to toe
quietly processing silent film status quo
shant upended jollity
between when a little girl no
matter mine nonconformist
mien unconditionally accepted,
ye dear daughter(s) don't know
sudden onset of anguish ho... ho... ho
holiday cavorting accentuated as
charade, facade, masquerade fueling ego
particularly Santa with the Misses,
and her sharp faux claws
keeping warm while
temperature five below.
No matter most every detail
I accurately gauge to attest
your life bustling
chock full o' zest
withheld, no doubt emotions
smolder within your chest
and kudos to thee lovely offspring
(both) packed bags
and headed out west
twas honorable duty, though now...
papa feels like
an unwanted guest
thee survived, albeit psyche bruised,
undergoing the electric
kool aid acid test
laughter when playing
Mancala, Uno, Sorry, et cetera,
how dada predictably did jest
when table turned,
I (spoiler Craigslist curb alert)
willingly, lovingly, and blithely
lost desire to win quest
to dispose cards, game
pieces, and/or glass beads
invariably other occasions
ye long since left (as thee must)
me and mother with an empty nest.
Nothing more doth
Matthew Scott ask or desire
then to delight and bask
as well educated hire
swimmingly how thee
learned to acquire
confidence and multitasking,
while I trod thru much
psychological muck mire
oft times (like now)
experiencing financial straits dire,
linkedin to when only youngster fire
within me belly to joie de vivre
peter out and prematurely expire
and yours truly reckons nothing
can change the past aghast being
deprived a marshmallow
at long ago time sharing campfire
with shortcomings scalding,
killing, crimping relationship,
courtesy lack of income
rendered paternal bond disastrously dire
doth now conclude another poetic wire.
Man, seldom a straightforward animal,
Long lost in the deserts of weariness,
Wants to flee from a life of denial,
Wallows no less still in piles of warm ash,
And feeling hurt, he nurses hidden strife,
Busy harming the self his very own
With some weird philosophy of life
That plunges him in world to him unknown.
World’s in world-wide pain as per German tongue—
Weltschmerz, modern word coined by Jean Richter,
And weltanschauung, one more and also young,
A vast field where the world’s lost in welter.
We see pain, angst in many urchins’ eyes
That beg for crumbs and still cherish a dream,
A look that child's raw innocence espies
Still, aims one day to claim his choicest cream.
Eyes of a house-help show this no less clear
Than householder’s deeply dunk in hardship,
Both dream of making good, both gag a tear,
None of them knows to laugh nor freely weep.
Take daily grind— working in rank odour,
Pitiable public passage, crowded
Journeys, jostles—the rush for earning bread,
The woes of world seen seldom ever ere.
Take a mid-age man, ill at ease, in mime,
And women, hair-dyed, face done up, pushing,
Prancing, pretending having a great time,
What with sad eyes, drunk or doped still showing.
In false bluster, all these men and women,
Unable, woes of their harsh life to change,
Mock at the dangers in a disco den,
And behave in ways bordering on strange,
Running away from reality's face,
Hiding their pain, they try hard to escape—
Escape from this never-ending rat-race,
Yet, cannot stop this reality's rape.
The truth of truth: we all passengers are
On a galloping horse on hire, Desire,
Maverick, even as a movie star,
Rich much as poor, all plunged in a deep mire.
Fortunate few that might face no travails—
The rich Americans— spending today,
Which, for long years their progeny might pay,
Who’d survive this rat race that all us ails?
They that cherish weird dreams and chase mirage,
Not else but very own future mortgage.
________________________________________
Ode |05.10.2011, revised, June 2023| dreams
Poet’s note: Weltschmerz: (welt = world, schmertz = pain), apathetic or vaguely yearning outlook on life, and weltanschauung: (welt = world, anschauung = perception), philosophy of life, conception of the world.
Written on: 7th September 2012.
Written by: Sashi.Prabhu (Zeauoxian)
Tons more I wish to do,
Much more I want to do,
Before I am laid on the pyre facing the sky deep blue,
Much more I wish to do……….
I want to scale scary heights,
I want to bungee jump without any fright.
I want to travel rough terrains on bikes,
I want to make it through forests and go on long hikes.
I want to wander singing songs,
I want to sing about how I mended my wrongs.
I want to be creative again ,
I want to write about my joys thrills and pain.
I want to pour my heart and passion in my works,
I want to write verses & haikus without reactions knee jerks.
I want to take many a calculated risks,
I want to learn from the entire process without shortcuts or fancy tricks.
I want to contribute for a good cause,
I want to give without siphoning material or emotional dross.
I want to untangle messed up issues,
I want to wipe off tears with empathy laced tissues.
I want to work on taboo subjects,
I want to solve regression of y on x.
I want to listen to my music loud,
I want to pen my work in a place far from the madding crowd.
I want to sow seeds and many a plant,
I want to bask in sun rays that into my room slant.
I want to drench in the rains,
I want to make paper boats and sail them in the drains.
I want to pick up from the ground and smell fresh wet earth,
And then joyously have my speech filled with mirth.
I want to boldly write about myself only for me,
I want the world to know me & my mind as they will always see.
I want to meet often the persons, who mean a lot to me,
I want to be able to emote my passions and feelings of love and glee.
I want to be happy about just any small thing,
And all this I want to do before the last breath to my nostrils I bring.
Facing the blue skies on my funeral pyre,
I want to be on the best craft my soul can hire….
All this I want to do very soon,
Before sets into me dreaded gloom.
But the life I live is taking its toll,
I am yet to get out of this oblivious hole.
Time is just right to set aside,
And take a ride
Fulfill my wants and dreams that I nurtured in me to grow,
And I had put away sheathed in a cocoon of time many years ago.
Now I don’t want a moment long,
And I will do what I want and sing my own song,
And do what in me I let grow,
Many, many years ago.
Death of I-Kons
In my life, I have seen many movies.
I watched wonderful animation,
tell stories that touched my heart,
over the years of my life.
Now they are stabbing the elusive
cartoons with sensor-driven remarks
and woke-ism that cuts and shreds
like a trash machine,
in the kitchen...
compacting and changing
the shapes of all things
it is fed,
or chooses to consume
on its on.
(EATR Machines, Military Robots)
I have read many books,
texts on history and science.
I was blessed and attended college,
to learn about business
and the world at large.
It was enough to get by,
and make a life.
They taught ethics and morals,
and math to me.
Now on TV, they change the rules.
They do as they please,
hire for the numbers,
and fire for the color of their skin...
to win at some kind of gamble,
no one knew or agreed to take.
(Gambling was legalized on March 1, 2022
legalization of betting on and off-reservation lands.
Now Advertised directly on the TV)
The parks are full of tents.
There is nowhere to take the children,
that they will not see, the evil of the day.
There is no protecting them,
from the darkness that is consuming the land.
The only hope is the Hand of God.
Resources running out,
wasted by the powerful...
taking jets to lunch in Paris.
Food unimportant to those that have full pantries,
and ice cream in their favorite flavor,
ready to be consumed,
at leisure.
(Gourmet flavors for the head of Congress
at $14 a gallon.)
I grew up on "good wins over evil".
I grew up on do the right thing,
because it was and is the right thing to do.
Grandma told.
Grandpa told me.
And, most importantly God told me.
So why is the world upside down?
Why do bad people hurt so many,
and so few do anything about any of it?
Frosty is melted.
Rudolph was hunted down,
and given a vaccine.
Twenty-eight food sources,
factories and processing plants,
have been leveled
in just under two years.
Two by plane alone.
But who would really believe that?
The energy supplies have been cut off,
or sent to other countries,
by our sitting president.
The citizens go hungry,
and the children cry.
But that is okay,
they are meant to die.
All part of the plan.
Did you vote for this?
Did anyone?