Long Income Poems

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


You Say What You Want

YOU SAY WHAT YOU WANT
By:Poetic-Life
May 04, 2013

every time something come out your mouth its seem to me that  you lie how you really feel about my kids. when we were in high school I felt for you but now you played these games like you loved me but you don't love me, the money I have cause I can afford for you and these kids, listen I can afford these kids with your help or without your help while you only pay these kids very little income, go play with someone else heart, im not that woman for you, so stop calling acting if we are together cause we are not I can do everything for these kids and for myself by myself

By:Poetic-Life
May 04,2013
Form: ABC


Premium Member They Say He Is a Loser

To criticize a person with a crude controversy,
Is like stripping off one's clothes, in public, without mercy;
This has been, yet, a habit common in the social sphere,
Like drinking a cup of coffee or cheering in chilled beer...!

Lula da Silva, a member of the Workers' Party,
Trouncing Geraldo Alckmin, won people's support hearty;
He came to be known as the most popular president,
With wisdom and wit, he did blend his prime power advent...!

Poverty, inequality, joblessness, child labor,
Illiteracy, and infant deaths he did not favor;
Average wage morals and income modes molded and matched,
Ethos with education and health care got soon attached...!

Disputes erupted about him on and off like mushrooms,
Jailed and released as though a goat thief or burglar of brooms;
Elected president as though no speck of theft stuck him,
He was soon plagued by many corruption scandals grill grim...!

He fanned, like fuel wind, through fumes of filial fiddles,
Molded mildly and minutely, evil ethnic appeals;
Operation Car Wash exposed his treasure-hidden frauds,
He was found guilty of wads by all odds before law-gods...!

Nine-fingered (left-hand little finger lost in a mishap),
Like the Chinese cartoon rat escaped from many a trap;
Yet, when the hands of law and the divine amalgamate,
Could even a pirate great easily skate off his fate...???


21 April 2023
They say he's a loser Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
Rhymes Checked At: Rhyme Zone
Syllables Checked At: How Many Syllables
Form: Rhyme

Get Out of My House You Bum!!

(This is a fictional poem)

My rotten brother-in-law has been sleeping on my couch for six months.
It's not pleasing to live in the same house with a dunce.
He could move out if he was earning income.
But he hasn't looked for a job even once because he's a bum.
He dropped out of school in the third grade when he was seventeen.
He's the biggest dumbass I've ever seen.
With his amount of education, he could easily get a job at Burger King.
If he comes back without a job again, his ### is going to be in a sling.
He thinks he's earning his keep because he's cooking our meals.
But when I eat, I get a mouthful of hair because he's going bald and it makes me 
very ill.
He leaves his clothes laying all around, he's a slob.
I'll go to jail for murder if that bum doesn't get a job.
Form:

ONLY JUST A DAD

ONLY JUST A DAD

Dad comes home with a sore back
It feels like every bone in his body has been attacked
Bringing home a little bit of money
To buy food for the children's tummies
His heart is always in the right place
He would always hit head-on whatever he faced
He is a proud dad of four
His only income came from the bank and a small meat store
Slowly every day he goes to work
He knows deep down he is being overworked
And he gets very little perks
He has no hate but just a lot of pain
But the next day he will do it all over again
He will always be super proud
For the life he chose and found
To this day he always strivies to do better
Even with all the pressure he will
Always find a way to keep us all together
He always will strike for perfection
Maybe that comes from my father's reflection
I hope they all remember that there is always
More to a dad than just a name
Never be a shame
And remember you always have much to gain
Form: Rhyme

The L

The l

A woman I heard of had two s.
One  was connected to the uterus
the other, smaller, led nowhere.
Her parents were aware of this, but
too poor to afford surgery 
This was a blessing when she, as a woman
became a high-class prostitute.
Using her narrow ; one can say
in this case, smallness mattered.
She was the only hooker in the world
who at thirty was a virgin.
She married a suitable man, married him
and they had two sons.
She could now afford surgery but desisted
nothing in life is certain 
Hard time could come it was good
to know she could make an income
to fall back on.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Pastoral


Premium Member My Grandma Deemma

MY GRANDMA DEEMMA

    My Grandma, whom I called Deemma
    bathed me in showers of limitless love and blessings.
    Those feelings I am still carrying in my life.
     Deemma! An ideal hostess not to even guess,
    most competent in domestic chores and household management    
  Grandpa! An unsuccessful lawyer with irregular income low and slow.
  Deemma met up his inefficiency, never blaming rather running  ideal family.

   Off and on, in vacations, I had spent days with her.
   She narrated her life-long struggle and concluded‘While raising up kids, 
    whole day’s ceaseless work made me frantically fatigued. 
   At late night I had to seek for a small space to throw myself in bed.
   Yet, as I took glance on sleeping faces of my kids, 
    I realized, I as the happiest woman in the world.’

     She had only primary education permissible for women in those days.
   But her craze reached her daughters and son to succeed as toppers                                                                                                                               

  She was my idol holding extraordinary skill in sewing, knitting, embroidering.
   All the dresses of her grand kids were stitched by her.
   Lots of charming dolls excelling in handicrafts were gifted to me.  
   Once she voiced to me ‘You call me Deemma, a typical address to old lady.
   Dear my child, I am aged, but mind is still young not coping up with body.’
  
   Now being a Grandma I had to sense the same ruthless truth.
    She had bestowed me compassion and care in opulence.
   I got no scope to repay but only to offer my gratitude as tribute in silence.
   Trying to honor with my tribute roaming through reminiscence.                       
                                      
  03/08/ 19
                  Fifth Place
  'What's In A Name' Contest by Kim Rodrigues.

  'YOUR CHOICE TRIBUTE VERSE' Contest by Brian Strand

Helmets For Free

When biking in the city,
On the brand-new bikes for rent,
Bikers should procure a helmet
So their skulls won’t get a dent.

Thus, the city gave out freebies
In some lower-income ‘hoods,
But the people who reside there
Didn’t show up for the goods.

A reporter checked the scene out
And she interviewed some folks
With their feet up on the pedals,
Resting up against the spokes.

Though they lived in places posher,
Paying private schools’ high fees,
They were there to score a helmet,
As entitled as you please.

Seems that life’s not quite in balance
When the haves keep getting more,
With the have-nots sinking lower – 
Doesn’t anyone keep score?
Form: Rhyme

Feminism

From the beginning 
men denied women
independence.
  We were trained, 
And treated like 
An apprentice.

   They denied us
  mobility.
   They demanded
 fertility.

   We could go 
to school,
Couldn't practice 
what we learned.
   If we dare spoke up,
We were burned.

   We were not allowed 
To have our own income.
   We catered to the King 
In his kingdom.

   Often, we were treated 
Like property.
   Bartered, traded, swapped,
Like commodities.

   They used religion,
And the Bible.
   They tell us there the 
Reason for our survival.

   They used brute
force to keep
Us in place.
The bruises,
   bumps, scars,
Shows on our faces.

   Sexual assault is par 
For the course.
   We were not allowed
 to ask for
 a divorce.

   We live our life 
Under their Thumbs.
   They prefer us
Pregnant and dumb.

   Even today they 
deny us equality.
   We don't have 
 personal autonomy.

   They have led us to
Where we are today.
   This is how FEMINISM 
Found its way.

     TURBO1904?
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Interference

Fifteen yards in a football game
Runner is safe in baseball
Two shot foul in basketball
Penalty shot in hockey
No penalty in government
For interference
Interference with family
Interference with income
Interference with retirement
Hell bent on destruction of values
Interference with self reliance
Interference with self respect
Congress can’t run its own household
Don’t tell me how to run mine
Bail out equals social injustice
Carried to an extreme
Let’s call it Money for Morons
Income for incompetence
Dollars for Dimwits
Better Lives for Brainless Billionaires
Interference with growth
Interference with fiscal sanity
Interference with failures failing
Eliminate useless executive salaries
Corporate is back in black
No bail out needed
No interference to protect the one’s
Who own you, Congressmen.

Premium Member Intellectual Snobbery

When I was in grade school
I was, already, 
on my leftbrain dominant path
toward acting the intellectual snob.

This, in large part
my best offense,
my trump card, sadly,
against marginalizing prejudice
of our community's non-farmer economic
and political Elite;

The few kids
whose parents went to college
and/or inherited some above-the-norm property
business, preferably not agribusiness,
professional service assets
even the most straight white male
would appreciate
like doctors
and nursing wives,
two income households
with academic bright credentials.

By the time I reached high school
being on, or at least within sight of,
the top of my class,
and president of as much political property as possible,
or at least vice-president,
became my trump card
for getting out of rural SWM oppression,
depression,
suppression,

Where I was not safe,
back in the 1960s rural midwest,
and I could never possibly matter,
become one of the local community's Elite,
a pillar of church and state
while overcoming the guilt and shame
of being the gay son
of a below median income family farmer.

Intellectual snobbery
was my leftbrain overwhelming defense
against rightbrain amygdala loneliness,
extreme social-sexual isolation,
drowning in cortisol-baptized self-stigmatization.

Leftbrain dominant academic skills
were my best offense
for succeeding out in urban
urbane
multicultural
cosmopolitan
singing and dancing
democratically compassionate
win/win feeling and acting society.

The only healthy society
that mattered;
where I could possibly matter,
and become transparent 
and vulnerable
and connected
and safe.

That defensive snobbery
still, in 2020 hindsight,
lives in my deepest closet,
longing for warmer
more inclusive acceptance,
invitation,
compassion

For right brain radical interdependence
with those of us,
regardless of income
and lack thereof,
regardless of self empowerment
and lack thereof,
capable of engaging 
and energizing this tragic comedy
of small staged love lives,

Rural and urbane
Healthy and wealthy
Ego and eco-therapeutic
Left and right brained
Smart and warmly co-passionate
Proud and humble

Divinely humane
playing more win/win trump cards
through most cooperative co-investment.

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