Long Laurence Poems
Long Laurence Poems. Below are the most popular long Laurence by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Laurence poems by poem length and keyword.
Sympathy
BY PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR
I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals—
I know what the caged bird feels!
I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting—
I know why he beats his wing!
I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings—
I know why the caged bird sings!
Why Do I Write?
You ask me why I sing?
You ask me why I write?
You ask me why I bleed?
What choice have I besides?
I long to fly, to run away
To some safe haven just to play
To see the light of blessed day
And give my longing heart full sway
I want to grasp the star and moon
And live my life; t'will end too soon
And kiss the clouds up in the sky
But here am I, what choice have I?
Why do I sing?
Why do I cry?
Why write of pain
No lullaby?
What choice have I?
I want with zeal to be adored
And I want Fame there at my door
I want IT ALL and so much more
Tell me, is anything for sure?
Why so I beat my wing?
I was born to soar…
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Form:
We loved the land
We tilled the earth, under sun we toiled
We pledged our souls, to nature’s whim
The King of France none to pleased
We took the sacraments
We held our faith, mournful to fates embrace
The British demanded a new oath we take
And scalped we were, both sides did partake
Our villages burned, our fields afire
Our woman and children, in hunger perished
We feared Monckton, a hunter of death
And from him, to ships hold, deported at best
We preyed to Canada, to lend us a hand
Evangeline an angel of our land
The darkened forests, to where we fled
Became bloody in battles, and turned to red
For Redcoats wandered in search of scalps
As Father Le Loutre preached unheavenly deeds
He was bloodthirsty and in skirmishes his evil flourished
His Mikmaq warriors helped rivers flow to blood
We lived along the rivers edge
We fought them all, to no one did we pledge
As serfs we served, to whom did rule
In the end, the forest sang our quiet eulogy
The vessels sailed from Halifax
With their human cargo of Partisans
Off to the West Indies, and a new land
Disease triumphed where Lord Laurence failed
And so the voyage, onward went
The traditions of Grand Pre, to Louisiana was lent
And there they settled, peace at last
As angels of their battles, in sacrifice did rest
Before Laurence survived bone cancer,
Chemotherapy and everything, he swam,
Competed nationally and internationally,
But afterwards rowing became his gram.
He was born on August the 29th in 1991,
And comes from North Yorkshire, moors,
He went to Hurworth House and Polam,
Schools, he won triathlons for his spoors.
Taking up rowing in 2011 at the Tees RC,
He competes in TA mixed double sculls,
And initially he raced with the able-bodied,
But now enjoys para-rowing which gulls.
So in Alguebelette in France at the Worlds,
2015, he and partner Lauren came second,
And in Rio, the open stage of the strongest,
The two secured the gold, rightly reckoned.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ dream, ¦¦¦ all through life,
¦¦¦¦¦¦ up ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ through toil and strife.
Afloat ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ before ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ colored ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ skies:
The storm-cloud dark
Above ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
The calm ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ blue
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ hopeful hue,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ passing beam—
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ labored ¦¦¦¦ and failed at last,
¦¦¦ sails too weak to bear ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ raging tempests ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ sent ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ astray.
But ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
For wind or sea!
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ "The tempest will ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ come to port."
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ through every cloud a ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ dream.
(Blackout of He Had His Dream by Paul Laurence Dunbar)
‘Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?’
(Romeo and Juliet, Act 2, Scene 2)
Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?
Juliet, it is so cold when we perform this sweet tableau
so, twixt my legs, just a tiny icicle does grow.
Is it she you call sweet Rose that saps the strength from my sweet beaux?
That you wilt leave me so unsatisfied and not your gift bestow?
Thus, each night, you have such words which you dost nag and crow
and with them, it is that makes my manhood fail to show.
I Once gazed my wond’ring eyes upon your bulging codpiece so
Yet now, not so, again I ask; Wherefore art thou Romeo?
Oh my sweet Juliet, I am indeed in deepest woe;
this night, Friar Laurence, with my blue potion failed to show.
Life’s Metaphor
Written: by Miracle Man
11-21-2019
Life is a scrimmage for eternity,
At birth we’re put in the game,
and how we perform is crucial.
It’s a time of proving what we’re worthy of,
And even though we may fumble, God will forgive,
and allow us to return to the game.
At games end, we’re either called up or we’re left behind
So we can’t be content to just mark time occupying the bench.
We must stay actively engaged in the game,
For God alone, knows the expiration date on our contract.
Tom
“The hardest thing to learn in life,
is which bridge to cross and which to burn.”
Laurence J. Peter
We Wear The Mask by Paul Laurence Dunbar
After poem by Olabosoye Wemimo Olaoluwa
Love of our land's labour should make us proud;
The efforts, time, and energy put through...
Well enough to place our pride clear as vowed.
But we wear the mask of pain we don't plowed,
When slavery is to labourers in blue...
Love of our land's labour should make us proud.
Showers of rain ain't just of dusty cloud,
But of heavy downpour and not dew;
Well enough to place our pride clear as vowed.
Yet all harvest couldn't feed suppose crowd,
We become weary of need to pursue...
Love of our land's labour should make us proud.
Just an endless space to measure; unbowed
Hearts and heads under threat, government subdue...
Love of our land's labour should make us proud,
Well enough to place our pride clear as vowed.
Family History
by Edmund Siejka
A sense of guilt
Made him search the hall closet
Until he found the old cardboard box.
Opening it
He stared
At a handful of dusty photos.
He remembered Aunt Jenny,
Who told funny stories,
How families in Europe
Lived near borders and one could have a German last name
And be French or even Czech.
Or how uncle Tomas
Made his way to York, PA.
Thinking it was New York
When told that it wasn’t
He shrugged his shoulders
Saying York, PA was okie dokie by him.
Or cousin Laurence who worked in a coal mine
Until he couldn’t take it anymore
And ran away to a dairy farm in New Jersey.
Putting the faded photos back into the carboard box
He wondered if his granddaughter really wanted
To research their family tree
Like she promised.
When the realization came to him
That most of the photos had been thrown away
Back when his father said
No one wanted to remember the old days.
Pushing aside coats and jackets
He carefully returned the box back to the hall closet
Regretting that he never kept the old photos and papers.
Sitting down
He wondered if anyone even cared
That the old days had been mindlessly tossed away.
Lauren became paralysed suddenly overnight,
When she developed firm transverse myelitis,
An inflammation of the spinal cord, a huge fright,
Which gave no feeling chest down, a mantis.
Born 24 April 1998, she comes from Birmingham,
In Bromsgrove District in the area Cotton Hackett,
Where she sat her A-levels which got her a gram,
At Oxford Brookes Uni as a law undergraduate.
Originally a wheelchair racer with many medals,
At the junior level for sprinting and distance middle,
She’s now in trunk and arms mixed double sculls,
Coupling with Laurence Whitely to warmly griddle.
Lauren only began the sport of rowing in 2015,
And rose through the ranks with speed and creed,
In 2015 in France the pair won silver real clean,
And in Rio they rowed to gold at tremendous speed.