Long Juveniles Poems
Long Juveniles Poems. Below are the most popular long Juveniles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Juveniles poems by poem length and keyword.
Childhood, the glory of pure innocence
A boon blessed by His omnipotence
Nonpareil and priceless gift to a child
Like a lamb delicate, gentle and mild.
An endless and inexhaustible bliss
A gifted phase that one should never miss
Immaculate souls of cute juveniles
Where He finds Himself in their beaming smiles
Icons for ingenuous happiness
Blossoming little hearts with loving kindness
Unstained with the impurities of world
Let the petals of dreaming buds unfurled.
Never sketch thy huge plans for their future
Let them grow under the blue in nature
Never take their childhood in to thy hand
Let them have bliss of heaven on this land.
Picture: 3
Rhyming Me A Poem 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Date: 11-11-2021.
Hill street blues, I got the Hillstreet blues;
I got the hill street blues on my mind;
and I haven't got time;
and I ain't got time;
Just ain't got no time, just enough time;
to fight crime;
I got jail walkers, street stockers;
I got murderers, thief's and break ins;
I got carjacking's, muggings and shopliftings;
Barking dogs, dim lit bars, juveniles;
and I haven't got time;
and I ain't got no time, just enough time;
to fight crime;
Hill street blues I got the Hill street blues;
I got the Hill street blues on my mind;
and I ain't got time;
just got time;
ain't got time
to unwind, while fighting crime. . .
06/09/81
Lyrics written by James Edward Lee ©1981, 2018
Composed music by Michael Post
(written words by James E Lee from NBC TV show Hillstreet Blues opening theme based on musician Mike Post theme music
Words sung/or spoken to the music composed by Mike Post's Hill street Blues theme
All children of a lesser god,
Someone somewhere has spared the rod.
Disobedience led astray
Where iconoclast await to prey.
Apocryphal the unaware,
Their secrets juveniles don't share.
Subversive action that relies,
On innocence through child like eyes.
A fountain of all knowledge, yet
Corruption roams the internet.
Projecting images and sound,
Leaves immaturity spellbound.
And adolescents with stupidity,
Lured into vile iniquity.
Recriminations, who is to blame?
Those children taught to kill and maim,
Or radicals, wherever from,
Who leave misfits to plant the bomb.
4 / 9 / 2020.
Salmon Run
A flurry of reds emerges distorted from the river
As the sockeye salmon return from the ocean,
Following the scent of their home stream water
And swimming upstream to the place of their birth;
In this, their final act is to propagate the species.
During this migration, the sockeyes consume no food
But depend on their stored body fat reserves.
The salmon flesh is red due to the krill they eat,
and this pigment moves to the skin where they absorb their scales
as the flesh turns white, which is an indication of their health.
They endure the struggle over falls, up rapids,
And past man-made structures and predators
To reach the spawning grounds of their creation.
The name originates from the Pacific Indigenous peoples’
Salish languages,
Who called them “suk-kegh,” meaning “red fish,” after their colour.
For centuries, the coastal tribes’ ancestral heritage
fished the salmon for sustenance
And traditions and believed that all living things were once people.
To them, the sockeye salmon symbolizes determination,
renewal, and prosperity.
Frantically, grotesque-looking fish splash furiously.
The females in a frenzy sweep their tails to make beds,
While males await excitedly, defending their mates,
Ready to move in between them and the nest
To fertilize the eggs that are about to be laid.
They didn’t always look this way, with the upper portion
of the snout
Elongated, protruding over the bottom as if hook-jawed
With long fanged teeth and greenish-hued heads,
And red-pigmented bodies with thick leathery skin,
With a hump on their backs that makes them appear freakish.
The juveniles remain in the freshwater until mature.
Then, they swim out into the ocean for two to three years
before returning to repeat the cycle.
Steely silver-blue tinted colour with white bellies
And heads of natural proportions to the rest of their sleek,
transparent-scaled, torpedo-shaped bodies;
Magnificently gorgeous for a fish.
The death of once-great swans I oft' lament;
and ask in vain, “Where have all the bards gone?”
No more are written lines as eloquent
as in the days of Poesy's ancient dawn,
when Homer sung the epic war for Troy,
and the odyssey of a Greek-hero king;
or, when the poet Petrarch sung for joy
of Laura, his love; and Dante, whose dayspring
of the heart was Beatrice. The Romantics
of bygone days, alas, are forgotten!
The lyric odes of Keats, the Byronics
of George Gordon, are now misbegotten
by great reams of abysmal, free-verse styles
today ill-writ by mental juveniles.
My front door served as a welcoming home
Inviting children for their nurture-zest
Midst nourishing feature of goodness-best
Offered by my accommodating dome.
Yon residential care facility
I became to kids a fortress of hope
As from their grievous issues they did cope
Toward triumphant functionality.
Home to each abandoned, neglected child
Or to an orphaned youth escaping from woe
And juveniles seeking bright future glow
I helped them, with families…reconciled.
Witnessing transformation’s great delight
Grateful am I to God's grace*, reaching-out
With benefactors’ ministering route
Managing me well midst prayerful plight.
Yes, I thrived, beholding miracles’ gain
Acknowledging milestones, greatly divine…
Yet, now I yearn for a possible sign
From gloom of attacking oblivion pain.
Here am I longing for visitors’ glee
While wishing my legacy to shine still
Believing revival to keep my will
Prevailing as kindness smites closure-key.
*Titus 2:11-12For the grace of God that bringeth salvation hath appeared to all men, Teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world.
Personification in Enclosed Rhyme Form
April 10, 2026
3rd place, "Stars or Home" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Ink Empress; judged on 4/17/2026
Our bubble of life in this vast Universe
A planet so dear, Natures from birth
She really is all that we know
But we know there are others
As our telescopes show
Named after Mythical gods, from our Human past
But these names will be known as long as we last
These gas giants and the terrestrials
Will become street talk in future juveniles
Mercury, Venus, Earth and Mars
Lets visit the above in space like cars
Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus - Neptune
Before we go, lets stop off at the moon
The daddy of them all
The mother off all planets
The daughter has lost
The Sun has won it
How can it be, that this tremendous glow
Never strikes, or never goes slow
What will we do when she tires out
If you have the answer, please give me a shout
So remember, hey future when we pass them in cars
Their more important than us, they are the Stars
They are there for a reason, we just have not reached
But ancestors of our past, they did so preach.
I am:
Child – conduct and beliefs taught from birth are ingrained
Wife – caring hubby holds me accountable yet contented
Mother – couple of sons and a daughter, I'm proud to present
Sister – contacts weekly, so glad FaceTime was invented
Nana – caretaker of three kiddoes who keep me entertained
Christian - Jesus Christ my Savior, Redeemer and Guide
Learner – juggling Sudoku, Rubik's Cube and Tunisian crochet
Friend – joint-heirs with believers in whom I can confide
Neighbor – juveniles, adults and pets, we connect day by day
Teacher – lingering occupation from which I cannot retire
Poet – love of language to instruct, imagine and inspire
Musician –long-time interest both on keyboard and in choir
Cook – my pet-peeve job, if I am the chef, be on guard
Housekeeper – my pride and joy is our new home and yard
Optimist – all things are possible through faith in God
April 27, 2020
Contest: Andrea Dietrich: I Am, A List Bio Challenge
What causes crime? What’s the root cause?
Is it poverty’s weight or the system’s flaws?
Is it rebels rising against unjust fate?
Can social programs soften hate?
Lopez Obrador headed Mexico
He said "lets hug the thugs, not act like a foe"
Then 150 thousand innocents met their ends
And his party, Morena, made new bad guy friends.
"The breakdown of family" says William Barr
leads to more gangs, and juveniles going too far
He argues you can't make social ills cease
Unless you first have safety and peace.
Mothers in the projects prayed kids wouldn’t die,
Bathtubs were cradles when bullets flew by.
One woman spent months sleeping under her bed:
But bad ideas resurrect like the undead.
Does poverty cause crime, or the reverse?
Businesses leave danger, unemployment gets worse
A man tried rehabbing homes, it was well meant
Addicts ripped out the pipes; he never saw rent.
To give social programs a chance to work
You have to find where the criminals lurk
If a repeat offender feels the pain:
hundreds of crimes don't happen again.
Not every criminal is a good boy gone bad
Not every criminal is a rebel gone mad
Some people are nasty—it’s just how they’re made;
If you don’t stop them early, the problems won’t fade.
There's plenty of good neighborhoods that became a slum
If you clean out the crime, that could be undone.
Mayor Mamdani of New York wants to defund the police
His voters won't end up with justice or peace.
Then they'll run to Texas or Tennessee
And vote for the same policies that made them flee.
"What fools" said Shakespeare "these mortals be."
True compassion would not lead to cruelty.
Maybe i should become a toad,
And lurk in the british embassy.
Among the chairs and heart-broken files,
Sitting on millions of deflowered flies.
Then when they're boarding the plane
Will i hop and hop towards them.
And as they often do to me
Will they ignore and erect their attention.
And then will i climb the stairs,
And saunter till i get up there.
And beneath one of their shoes
will i shelter. That my safety can
in Joyful dreg abound. Then as
The plane takes off,will i be
elated,to behold Washington.
But what if he steps on me?
What if...? What will i do?
If i am a Jelly-Fish,
Glowing in pride beneath the sea.
And my existence is special,
To tamkalash and all disgusting folks?
Then will i swim from Nigeria,
To different parts of the world.
And as the dawn dawn will i
transform,when Washington is
Wrought in my sight.
But what if a wanderer wanders
to my path,coupled with his prey holder,
To withheld breath from me?
What if he catches me in his net?
What if...? What will i do?
Oh i know! I'll bid my worms.
Till i become an eagle.
And i'll soar and soar from
coast to coast,ridges to ridges,
Hills to hills,mountains to
mountains,valleys to valleys,
stream to stream and after
the long and streneous adventure.
Will i be elated by glittering roads,
flowered streets,virgin cars,
pleasant houses,gorgeous damsels,
diligent Juveniles,rigid electricity.
Boasting companies- Washington's regalias.
Then will i mount on a fig tree,
And transform to the real me.
And measure the beauty of the land,
With my heart,eyes and hands.
But what if as i soar in pride
My rival denies me of my stand?
What if her air blows pass me
And press breath out of my heathen draws?
Or if a egg-bellied littlun,
Fed with curry goats points his arrow
To make of me a fun?
What if he aim at me?
What if he aimed right?-
Heaven forbid!,stop thinking that way.
But what if?
What if....? What will i do?
But of onething i'm i sure,
And to my moistured heart is it pure.
That before the death of this year,
Loose the knot,i'll be there!
17:26:08:20:43