Long Inducted Poems
Long Inducted Poems. Below are the most popular long Inducted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Inducted poems by poem length and keyword.
There is only love
when we leave the other
behind – our world of others:
Commitments deemed by
self so paramount,
we become perpetually
addicted to treadmills;
inducted wrong-tracks
adhering as a second
skin –
The rain can
fall but the plain will never
give back, if the permeable
depths irretrievably
No benefit by making
of one's self a non
irrigable desert –
having wandered too far and
stored up too little –
the well used sayings
about burning bridges
and being a spendthrift,
they apply to the heart and
soul as well--
Love often...but wisely....
We raised three daughters.
Doing our best to let them know that we adored them.
What they did after we released them into the world was up to them.
Most of their choices were good.
Some not so great, but we still let them know that we loved them.
And even if we were being babies, throwing root beer on each other and such,
They knew that we loved each other and them too – vastly important for children.
Our children have been seated at a smorgasbord of choices and opportunities.
We gave them free reign in a lot of instances,
marveling at how they ran with it,
or ignored our ideas completely, managing to glean better ones on their own.
They were not inducted or strong-armed into any particular value system
except the value of human’s feelings, and of animals’ worth.
We both agreed on that, and the fact that no religion is the only religion.
My husband and I are spiritualists,
believing in the one-ness and goodness of all.
Non-believers of absolutism, or only-way-type stuff, we did not encourage them to adopt
any particular religion or politics. We felt this would help them better see the light in others.
My husband and I have raised a Republican, a Democrat and an Independent.
Three unique clear-of-mind, clear-of-self daughters,
each with diverse ideas of doing things.
We released them into the wild of society to find their own ways, and learn to believe in themselves.
As a result, they have their own traditions, their own ideals,
and their own ideas.
Raising three independent, assertive, strong American
women makes us feel proud, and successful.
They are flexible, open-minded, and best of all,
value both humans and animals.
The most imperative thing we taught them
was the importance of love. They live that.
We knew this would serve them well when we released them into the wild.
They each identify with a different religion; none of them ours.
We are insanely proud!
June 22nd Summer unknown to me; My younger Sister Sharon Enters --- The World
Her Heart holds the secrets of the universe , her mind Artistic : Pure----- Receives
The gift of POETIC Knowledge: Roses are Red, Violets are Blue. I LOVE --- Y O U
I watch YOU grow ; from crayons to the Golden Pen of a Legendary ------ POETESS
My pride in YOU , shines through; my Little Sister the Impeccable ------- Laureate
I stand in the crowd, my Heart beating loud, my little Sister is being ------ Crowned
Her name, Poetry, the bust of Sharon Weimer inducted into History---- -- With Laurel
Placed upon Her head by her Loving, admiring brother; the Honored ---- Wreath
With all my LOVE Happy Birthday My Sister, Sharon Weimer LOVE YOU-- Forever
Elongated dazzling radiance cast abeam
sensational blinding brilliance
thru eyelids cast agleam
buoyed upon soundcloud airstream
entire corporeal complex edifice
rocked upon gently
shimmering weightless as moon beam
metaphorically floats yours truly
autonomic kickstarting process
since... flagellation enabled conception
circulating, distributing, enervating...
dna chromosomal genetic
data packets craft
lifeforce fueled bloodstream
aforementioned haploid gamete
kinetic, microcosmic, and opportunistic
unbridled, likened, and fashioned bream
identity guarding, glorifying,
edifying dynamic counterstream
crème de la crème
deoxyribonucleic electric kool aid
acid time tested testicular cream
erecting scalar, singular, stellar
survival of fittest
legendary, mandatory, and noteworthy
twenty three and me crossbeam
cast adrift amidst
one after another
continuous pleasant daydream
wafting mysteriously current
squarely bobbing (think sponge)
idyllically, harmoniously, haphazardly
and gently flowing downstream
nimbly manifesting lusciously
kneading jubilantly inescapable
heavenly glorifying dream
begetting coruscating prismatic halo
quintessentially orbiting eyebeam
orchestrating laser inducted fleam
painlessly piercing poetic pulsating gleam
analogous to virtual reality occurring
currently within whirled wide
webbed dammed headstream.
Meanwhile along Battle Creek boughs
tooting, trumpeting tussling,
nonetheless resolute triumphant hornbeam
built barque remains intact amidst every inseam.
Lumbering ship of state seaworthy
in league with moost any other galleon
forging full steam ahead
lake any other mainstream
weathering riveting pond during microbeam.
The first time I met Madame La Laurie, was in 1832 When she and her third husband (Dr. Louis La Laurie) purchased me. My first impression of Madame La Laurie was that she was soft spoken, of fine breeding, and very beautiful.
Upon her arrival, she wasted no time filling every nook and cranny at 1140 Royal Street with the finest furniture and china that money could buy. No one looking at the plain exterior of this house, would ever expect such opulence within it walls.
She wore the latest fashions from Paris with a flare beyond rival, even by the most inducted social lights of the hour, which did not go unnoticed. Both men and women, would stop in their tracks to gaze upon this regal beauty as she strolled down the main streets of New Orleans.
Soon, with the aide of her husbands connections through his practise, she, gained acceptance into the higher circles of the community and began hosting what would become, the most sought after dinner invitations in all of New Orleans.
This was the one side of Madame La Laurie that the world saw, but it was I, who bore witness to the other side. NEVER could anyone have ever imagined the atrocities this women committed in her chamber of horrors on the 3rd floor as she maimed, tortured and murdered any slave that displeased her.
~~~
I was burned badly, when one slave, wanting to end his misery, set a fire in the kitchen, finally bringing her reign of terror to and end, where upon she fled in her hell driven carriage, into the night, never to be seen again.
Today, I stand here at 1140 Royal street, completely unrecognizable. I have a different face now. The only thing left one would recognize from that day, would be the old path that runs between me and the adjacent house.
Lush green foliage now grows along its edge, in what I like to think, a remembrance to the tortured souls who died here.
Between these brick walls
Bright light filters from above
Old seeds bloom again
BUT...IF YOU DARE to walk between these walls, you...like me, THAT OLD HOUSE IN NEW ORLEANS, might see the apparitions of the tortured souls still residing there.
~~~
Poetry form: Haibun
For the contest, A House In New Orleans, sponsor, Lin Lane
PLACED SECOND
Guion Stewart Bluford Jr.
Most noted
(born November 22, 1942)
is an American aerospace engineer, retired U.S. Air Force officer
and fighter pilot,
and former NASA astronaut,
He who is the first African American
and the second person of African descent to go to space.
Raised high brother ride roar high into the skies
This is no much fun to know it’s so great
Bluford was selected to become a NASA astronaut in January 1978
As a part of NASA astronaut group 8.
Trained for a year
Officially designated as astronaut in August 1979
His technical assignments have included working with Space Station operations
In 2002, scholar Molefi Kete Asante listed Bluford on his list of 100 Greatest African Americans
Raised high brother ride roar high into the skies
Bluford left NASA and retired from the Air Force in July 1993 to take the post of Vice President/General Manager,
Engineering Services Division of NYMA, Greenbelt, Maryland.
a Corporation and in October 2000, became the Vice President of Microgravity R&D
and Operations for the Northrop Grumman Corporation.
He retired from Northrop Grumman in September 2002
Raised high brother ride roar high into the skies
to become the President of Aerospace Technology, an engineering consulting organization in Cleveland, Ohio.
Bluford was inducted into the International Space Hall of Fame
in 1997,[7] the United States Astronaut Hall of Fame in 2010 and the National Aviation Hall of Fame in 2019
Raised high brother ride roar high into the skies
Fly brother Fly up and beyond the heavenly skies
2/8/2021
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
"Limerick - Syllables 12,12,8,8,12" ~By Poet~
Stevie Wonder.
Blinded after birth by a hospital blunder.
At three he played music with pots and pans.
Self taught piano, at nine he played to young fans.
Stevie Wonder decided to bet Tiger Woods
To play golf at a golf club in their neighborhoods
Tiger, he chose where they would play.
Stevie would choose the time of day.
Stevie chose midnight. He won and went home with the goods.
At 13 he was the youngest solo artist ever to top the charts.
Being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, warmed hearts.
He won a Grammy for "That's What Friends Are For"
Stevie Wonder, an incredible performer has fans galore.
You were born in 1924 and you died in 2011.
You died one year ago today at the age of 87.
My grandparents gave me one of your records in the late seventies.
And I bought another of your records at a flea market in 1983.
It's a fact that you were a great pianist.
You were talented and you will be missed.
You began recording for Kapp Records in the fifties.
You did an amazing job when you performed Born Free.
In 2010 you were inducted into the Hit Parade Hall of fame.
When you died of pancreatic cancer, it was a damn shame.
You made beautiful music with those piano chords.
Now you're in Heaven playing the piano for the Lord.
(Dedicated to Roger Williams who passed away October 8, 2011.)
Pitifully, it seems my volcano has erupted—Somerset Mougham
Awaiting ink and feather to perform, my volcano has erupted
Gloomy den, I listen to crackling fire, nothing of worth to pen
Suffer to produce work that last forever, an unwritten rule inducted
Cupped in hand, a cobalt bottle, I rub it, and call on its Jinn
Last resort, I sort out the day’s events, journals I’ve constructed
Graced ideas and creativity dead-ended, no nativity, a blank page
The ink has dried, writings seen under scrutiny, in a fishbowl
Sorcery a bitter end, acquire a student, mentor, what I now wage
Appetite gone, blithe verses, Chicken Soup For The Soul; soulful
Poetry to please; plush oriental magnolia’s, birds of paradise, sage
Speechless, lost in words of little sense, strained thoughts, struck dumb
Poet's bemoaning what's penned in a year, should've taken a week
Muses ebbed, Coleridge, Dickenson, to writer’s block they'd succumb
Inspiration depleted, curtains drawn shut, I may never again peak
Gloomy den, a chilling season, I listen to the wind, comfortably numb
Have you been inducted in the herd community and
received its graduate certificate yet?
I hear Nietzsche's Twilight of the Idols' rant on 'herding the herd community',
thinking, will we hear next the Covid-Uberman, i.e., the longing of new body invested with addictive anti-body, redeemed yet forever subverted, but showered with accolade? History's now split to before and after the pandemic, bifurcating the (decaying) body and the (deaf) soul.
Pessimism of intellect never rescued one from a disease, overwhelmed by
vaccine optimism -- a panacea or cure, or twilight of reason (i.e., Benjamin's apocalypse foretold)?
Nothing is everything when you put your mind to it, subliminally and refined.
Odds of survival is higher when you see a light at the end of tunnel, no matter
how dim or treacherous the path, or faulty optics, i.e., Hegel's chronicle of the absolute spirit that never dwells too long in limbo of alienation, enlightenment's last defense. Behold, the light of Zarathustra shall illuminate and the new herd community will turn sun-worshippers yearning for the paradise lost under the eagle wings of their shepherds wielding
a long stick.