Long Industry Poems
Long Industry Poems. Below are the most popular long Industry by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Industry poems by poem length and keyword.
oblivious
we are oblivious to it all, the death, the lies, the cries of nature and spirits among mankind, powerful sweet repose we will regret our oblivious nature when the bill comes due and we pay dearly with our lives for our folly and blind mentality…
denial of truth, science, and the corruption of faith WE climb into our ivory towers and join our tribes of national identity or truth and humanity and throw stones and sticks or pull semi-automatics to prove one is bigger than the other a measuring match...
still, just a primitive primate screaming in the room of technology we are oblivious to our own reek of insanity, industry, or denial of facts over fiction we are oblivious to it all, the death, the lies, the cries of nature and spirits among mankind, in powerful sweet repose we lie...
here upon the stone inscribed the words of humanities demise the epitaph of DOOM, here we lie in oblivion because we were afraid to love oneself or one another WE were oblivious
to all…
Time marches on but the story doesn't change.
Innocent lives being taken by a person whose deranged..
Last weekend in Pa. it was our state police, one is still
critical, and the other is now deceased..
The unstable shooter is also now gone.
Will this ever stop? What keeps going so wrong?
This tragic story truly rings home for me.
I had a person with mental health struggles in my family.
Psychiatrists rely on the pharmaceutical industry and
prescribe new medications that alter patients' brain chemistry.
Family members are often leery to commit, because our mental
hospitals discharge the patient still unfit, and they are left to
deal with the brunt of it.
At home, these families struggle to keep things in control.
Many times that stress alone will take a major toll.
How many more peacekeepers?
How many more innocent lives is our society willing to sacrifice?
For a relatively brief period in their lives,
they touched base with luxuries that they could
ill afford; with culture unallowed by both desire
and time. Their days were spent committing crimes
that fed their addiction to drugs. But at a rehab
center, they were reintroduced to some of the finer
things of life.
Teachings of Christ were at the heart and center of their
belief system and the hallmark of their program. Moreover,
there were other venues of culture that greatly aided in
their success. Among them was The Zoo.
Into their lives came the Museum of Science and Industry.
There, they could experience being connected to a reality
that improved rather than destroyed civilization. There,
perhaps they would connect to a challenge, a vision that
could assist in changing their lives. Such visits by them
must have been amazingly interesting and arresting;
enabling them to capture a fresh view of human ingenuity.
A new and broader view of the real world was also presented
to them by way of the Planetarium. Awesome observations of
the vast universe so unlike the average American city that
had limited their drug-infested lives. There was so much 'out
there' yet to be explored; so much 'in them' yet to be tapped.
The Zoo was another favorite place to go. Was it simply
a place to observe animals, or was there so much more
to be discovered? There was a golden opportunity to
reevaluate the use of cages, fences, barriers, and
partitions. Perhaps an ex-felon would conclude that
crime does not pay and that freedom is priceless.
I cannot be certain, but I suspect that the men
taken to such venues, especially the zoo, came
away with a greater appreciation for the good life.
One cannot help but realize the value of having
the wild in captivity, and at the same time acknowledge
that every living creature deserves and demands freedom.
051223PSCtest. Constance La France
Writing Challenge - 'Z' Words
Word Choice: Zoo
condoms should be used on every conceivable occasion
remember Ballet is best learned using proper steps and stages.
every tree is relieved when Spring comes
a shotgun wedding: A case of wife or death.
the dairy industry in the Middle-East depends on milk shakes.
every lumberjacks can keep accurate records because they understand logs.
look Once you've seen one shopping centre, you've seen a mall.
if you want good feedback ask any road-roller driver - they are natural flatterers.
fields of bare brown earth can be a harrowing site
every marriage, she got a new name and a dress.
sorry soup all stolen from Google , was going to be for Christy teas comp
This world is full of enough negativity. Any style give me a positive outlook on life. Hint: I'm fond of a play on words.
spells create life down the side and lots of word play put I can't enter it lol smile value only :-)
—A Lunar Ballad from the Year 2088
The year was 2088—
I stood in Beijing beneath neon skies,
Clutching a visa to the Moon,
Where dynasties now rise beyond the clouds.
China, bold architect of the stars,
Has carved empires on the Dark Side—
No longer myth or mystery,
But fields of fusion and factories of fire.
Helium-3, mined from silver dust,
Feeds reactors like newborn suns,
Its radiant breath beamed to Earth
Through radio waves that hum like prayer.
Moon is no longer a lifeless rock—
It breathes with industry and grace.
Two hundred pioneers now call it home,
Cradled in glass domes kissed by starlight.
From its soil, green hues emerge—
Lunar gardens bloom in synthetic rain,
A soft rebellion against the cold void,
Where silence once reigned unbroken.
The Moon—
A launchpad, a lab,
An empire of dreamers and coded command.
And above us, floating stations gleam—
Space Islands, fuel stops for tomorrow’s odyssey.
China now commands the current of power,
Energy pulses in her hands—
While Earth bows gently to the moonlit tides
Of this celestial dynasty.
Act Eight, Chapter One. Part Three
Part of a grander play.
A house in conflict.
We are mere players
on this vast infinite stage.
Nothing is accomplished
Nothing is compromised
Fire of infernos n creation intertwined
Struggle for the soul of an innocent child,
the house rocks.
With the kindred of the damned
For what is at stake,
the soul of my little girl.
Her smile fading from memory.
A Holy War is waged.
Jihad!
The lines are drawn in the sand,
In blood, in time
The plans are conspired upon,
priest gather like a rooks
full of murderous cold books.
Heaven's own Holy Judgment.
Their cloaks flapping in the wind
like black wings.
Crucifixes swing...
The doctors, generals
and captains of industry
buy time with their technology
and very little understanding.
Pages from holy grimoire flutter,
fly into the night.
My child crises
I feel a piece of me withering…
My eyes blur in tears with rage
and
I scream,
WHY!
My must my little girl die.
I feel her suffering.
As that sinister black thing is grinning…...
III of III
Cars and bars
The neon of an unknown
Auto-park, silent
Buildings of industry
Landmarks of a dying nation
A land falling apart
The hum of electricity
Drones into the endless night
Lights flash and swim
Splashing across the land
Of lost dreams and wars aftermath
Something walks
A hand dire crafts
Blood and alcohol
Covering all
The eyes of the great machine sits in silence
A hum of electric sparks
It waits and mediates
It bides its time
Watching wanting
In the long eternal night
Unmoved unloved caring only for the wastes
Awash in a cars headlights splashing
Across its
Inhuman façades
Autos and electric neon bars
Blood n Chrome marching parts
Adrift in the endless night
Three Cheers To Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis
Momma mia man date
comb the second Sunday
during month of May
can be traced back
to ancient Greeks and Romans
devotional festivals held
to honor mother goddesses Rhea and Cybele
setting precedent for Mother's Day
where early Christians fancied festival
known as “Mothering Sunday,”
the other three hundred
and sixty five or six,
when leap year occurs,
especially Jewish mothers smother
also manifest courtesy
eldest sister or brother.
Fast forward to the early
twentieth century 1908 when
Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis
(a social activist then,
and community organizer
during American Civil War) era to quieten
grief fraught era also cited
as informally memorializing her mother,
who begot said noble men
touring daughter
paying homage to woebegone
lachrymose role with accolades
to endure tragedy and loss put upon
childbearing women,
this event held (rain or sun)
at St Andrew's Methodist Church
in Grafton, West Virginia, which did quicken
in subsequent decades to formal fete,
where poets (like me) did open
the special occasion with ranked midshipmen
commercialization cropped as ken
be expected by the early 1920's embolden
greeting card companies
such as Hallmark generated a market
(money making of course) even
though Jarvis believed
companies sought profit
NOT prophet, thus misinterpreting
and exploiting idea
of Mother's Day and met
aforementioned founder, who tried to jet
tis sin the vulgar appetite
of the ole mighty dollar,
but her lofty ambition did get
thwarted by mass marketing
the quaint idea,
plus she feared going in debt
and though the industry
(initially proposed entailed low key
acknowledgement, the originator
(Ann Marie Jarvis) still esteemed,
fêted, lionized, revered re:
formed unsanitary
squalid living conditions with zee
less ness and aplomb
set a course where
greater longevity doth hum
bull all because, she sought to regale mum
(mine) deceased after rigor mortis
immediately thereafter her sole son
found himself saddened severely glum,
and uncomfortably numb.
Heartache!
Huge heartache!
No, no, no! Unstoppable the tears!
Everything is good to look but I’m not
I’m dumped into heartache and logged tears
Long sighs, much heart beating in hearing the news!
She is no more! Queen of melody is no more
Nightingale of India is no more; everything is no more!
One of the greatest singing souls is no more; none is more!
I’m utmost beggar in poetic expression; so I live in liege
Good to look the surrounding is but in me no peace
Nowhere is my south breeze, nowhere the dawn chirping birds
Nowhere the blooming flower, nowhere the fragrant mirth
Infectious everywhere with the breathless melancholy
Tone and tune with the lyrics are shocked to expose expiry
Void; irreplaceable emptiness is created in this subcontinent
We’ve lost all before this sunrise and fallen into the awful den
Supreme love, respect and prayers for her greatest departure
Euphonious works will immortalize her in a memorable genre
© Mahtab Bangalee
6 February, 2022
Chattogram
///
Lata Mangeshkar was an Indian singer and music composer. She was widely considered one of the greatest and most influential singers in India. Her contribution to Indian music industry in a career spanning seven decades gained her honorific titles such as the Nightingale of India and Queen of Melody. Born: September 28, 1929 (age 92 years), Indore, India and death: February 06, 2022 (aged 92) Breach Candy Hospital, Mumbai, Maharashtra, India
The most recognizable album cover in history, the photo of the
Beatles crossing Abbey Road, taken in the summer of sixty nine,
fifteen minutes before noon on August eight to be précised.
An iconic album cover for the image resonated with the fans.
There are wall posters of this photo and it seems men, my age,
in music industry have one in their living rooms or studios.
The photograph of the most influential band in the world walking
on a zebra crossing became one of the most imitated of all time.
I am one of those who imitated it five months ago, 19 of October
at eleven fifty in the morning, when we had photos taken crossing
Abbey Road, amidst a busy road in northwest London in St. John’s Wood
in the city of Westminster, outside Abbey Road Studios, formerly EMI.
We crossed Abbey Road in single file with me leading, followed by my
daughter and my granddaughter with our fourth person, my grandson
taking the pictures so he was not included, kind of disappointing.
How I wish we were there on October 9, John Lennon and my birthday.