Long Legacies Poems
Long Legacies Poems. Below are the most popular long Legacies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Legacies poems by poem length and keyword.
A Determined Devil -
As I lay another cedar beam plumb for our home
smoke plumes, serpentine and sulphuric, interrupts the sunshine,
I look below the ridge, Eve standing silent
with weapon in hand,
a woman so grand,
panic has no rest in her person, fear has no finger on her pulse,
I move like lightning, to war by my Lady's side,
Valley vandels have come, scortching field fruit,
searing insidious signs into our peach and apples trees,
incarnate, the Devil disheveled with a defunct posse of three
approaches me, hailing not from a city of Angels but from a ghetto of ghouls,
mean and ugly like ignorance injured by the ivory tusks of innocence,
a madman desperate for the destruction of Divinity,
unskillful and wishful for lies to come alive,
he's a scribbler scribe, a dribbler riddler
a stereotype simpleton, frontin' and gruntin'
fallin short of the great gangsta idol,
just a stereotypical imbecile, a pencil with no lead,
burpin chicken feathers claimin them to be the silk quill of Angels,
I turn to Eve now
with eyes saying now is the time for demise,
briefly, before I strike steel across the throat of Hell itself
our first promise to each other repeats in my memory,
"I forever fight for you"
as her brown eyes convince me of loyalty, love royal,
she rips her blade through his groin
as I open a river across the throat of this terrible thug...
Raising A Tribe -
Eve, this land is already populated by persons whom seem like us,
although different too, like seasons in soul,
divergent in their dreams for dynasty,
they have dialects from a depth of Dawn
that awoke long before we arrived to thrive here,
customs peculiar as shapes to stones,
Father never spoke of these klans
who strive to survive outside the mercy of His guarded Garden,
competitive as clouds in a shrunken sky,
I met a merchant, a servant to trade,
he told of banners and blood, laws and legacies
cultures savage and cities of crime,
gleamed from telling stories of wealth and wonder,
said they worship their Gods more ways than gold folds,
consider what we have encountered Luv,
will our children slay or be slain, war or work
love or get lost in conquest,
you, as a Woman of God's glorious gambit
have a harvest of futurity's face in the balance,
will you deliver the destiny of our union into this drama...
Justin A. Bordner...J.A.B. 2021
Music is an undying
art of soul ~
an abstract eden, where,
euphonious unicorns
glide in strawberry sonatas,
amplifying rhapsody in
ballads of flight,
when fuchsia feathers
tease those
jingling breezes,
infusing breaths
in every lifeless aroma;
where I can soar
beyond the
brushstrokes
of symphonies that
planktons sing to me,
in the requiems of
forsaken pearls,
crooning with
silenced shimmers
beneath wavy blues.
Maybe,
I'm a songwriter
without words,
and my electric fingers
trace the tunes
of serene strings,
when guitars weave
a sonorous guilt
midst ruby runes
of regrets.
I wish to keep
swinging in a
cosmic cadence,
where celestial notes
choreograph
themselves in the
moonwalking
mellifluence of
lunar legacies.
I gossip with
neon nightingales,
laced with neutrinos
and compel them
to chant those
healing incantations
of love and glory,
like the forlorn
princess - Rapunzel,
desiring to feel
the glow of
familiar lanterns,
winged with
hazy syncs of
unsung yesteryears.
I wonder if,
I'm not meant
to compose
crystal canticles
in a Disney duet,
for, I believe,
I'm a soul searcher
in the flesh of
a soloist, concocting
an elixir of my
existence through
cinnamon anthems
of mystical
moonrises, as
they softly unfold,
a million
unheard tempos,
within tranquil
memoirs.
I'm the 'maiden of music'
resting as a floret on
every sepal,
yearning to become
a unique acapella
of nature,
where empathy
has an ethereal
dialect of
nurturing spirits
and tinkles
of magical waterfalls
whisper in
gentle lachrymose lulls
of our ambrosial Mother.
When the harmony
of my voice,
kisses those
ivory keys of
the heart-shaped
piano, they
echo a tipsy secret
in my sunset skin,
making me
believe ~
"I'm everywhere
in the essence,
yet nowhere
to be found...",
like the sweet
scents of
hummingbirds,
smiling behind
that first dusky star.
"In each husky hallelujah
of ribboned halts and replays,
life is a song ~
where every lyric,
phrases an ember of end,
and when passionate heartbeats
shall knit sombre medleys,
I will hum in the last 'chef-d'oeuvre'... "
Early/mid afternoon May 22nd, 2020...
Raindrops percolate Perkiomen Valley watershed
pleasant reprieve versus quite warm temperatures
yesterday found yours truly averse attempting re:
ding outside, the secluded alcove visible looking
thru single bedroom window here, once upon time
former Schwenksville Elementary School, now re:
purposed Highland Manor apartment alphanumeric
unit B44, 2day precipitation lightly palpitating terra
firma quenching thirsty flora and fauna donning viz
age fifty plus shades of lush green meteorological
regular phenomena offsets prospect where drought
would deprive biota requisite liquid nourishment
speculation June, July, and August promise triple
digits essentially forcing creature comfort ala air
conditioning as climate control to weather extreme
hot temperatures linkedin with global warming, a
grim prospect lately tempered courtesy coronavirus
COVID-19 inexplicably temporarily giving respite
the Earth atmosphere purportedly less toxic since
countless manifold modes of industrial production
lockdown subjected since employees in quarantine
to thwart contagion infecting adjacent areas, thus
impacting transportation hub, no substantial traffic
most rerouted thru information superhighway data
bits and bytes sent to and fro, hither and yon, until
"green light" signalled for businesses to reorient
themselves to alternate paradigm, hoop fully more
eco friendly less dependent upon fossil fuels, where
greenhouse gases deplete ozone layer compromising
delicate balance offset severely trending toward by
Yoda - star wars pitched battles witnessing galactic
empires armed 2 teeth with supersonic weapons mass
destruction spelling demise of human civilization
think brinkmanship whereby within eyeblink en-
tire realm encompassing eastern, western, northern
southern, brethren and cistern multifarious legacies
snuffed out without a trace extinguishing gamut of
living things great and small, perchance world wide
web overtaken with radiation resistant critters, an
unrecognizable changing of the guard when no pry
mates abled (Cain not) wrest control against giant
size carnivorous entities deliciously feast carrion
until nothing but lovely bleached (bomb shelled)
bones scattered across the pock marked terrestrial
landscape - mush room 4 opportunistic organisms.
When it comes to being a good father what do most young black men see?
Can they picture their fathers passing down any legacies?
Do they remember any male bonding or talks on how to be good men?
Do they have any perceptions or even comprehend?
Unfortunately too many households are single parent with only a mother in residency
Caused by incarceration, unemployment and dysfunctional inadequacies
Too many don't have a clue of what a good father should be
As the father factor in their lives was one of obscurity
But God is the ultimate father figure to each and every man
And if you desire to be like Him read His words and follow His plans
To become a good father you must examine the Holy Scriptures
And hopefully you'll be able to obtain a good father picture
Now tapping into God's heavenly Twitter account
And Facebooking the Gospel to see what its all about
Fully prepared to formulate, cultivate and stimulate your spiritual life
So that your behavior and way of thinking lines up with Jesus the Christ
A picture of a good father is a man who leaves a financial legacy
So that his children won't exist in a state of abject poverty
By showing them how to save and how to invest
Leaving a fruitful inheritance and a full hope chest
A picture of a good father is a man whose vine is rooted in a strong foundation
And structured to lift him up in godly formation
Respectful, resilient, loving, loyal and kind
Of strong moral conviction and secure in his mind
Knowing who he is and what he could be
And having healthy relationships with every member of his family
So if you're broken, bitter, angry and have any doubts
Seek God and a professional to help you work it out
And i say this to all women and I hope you receive
You need to let a man be a man to his family
Stop disrespecting him and put your anger and pride to the side
He is doing the best he can so work with him by walking stride for stride
A picture of a good father is a man concerned about his community
Who comprehends we live in a global society
A man who gets involved and not stay isolated
As we are all a part of this world that God created
A picture of a good father is a man who loves and respects his family and community
A man strongly rooted, striding humbly and secure in his spirituality
In the book of prophecies
a great secret
a great conspiracy of the muse
revealed by the suicidal head of the beast of annihalation
someone born by such a name
but what is in a name
that drives himself to madness
cursed to think the worst
not knowing the truth
the world around him knows the truth
for powerful forces reveal the future of the fates to the population iof they fail their
test
Keep this person alive
Born of this name
cursed with paranoia of conspiracies of long ago times forgotten
\legacies of kings
and grudges of old
guesses and second guesses
the population works to protect the one prophecied
the one they believe will become an easy task to keep safe
but in any world where danger lurks
who knew the person born of this name would seemiongly plan to fail his task of
surviving himself and the cushion of an easy life around him
to push society to its limits
to earn the stairway to heaven of utopia of the object mankind has been craving
but whom is the one after the prophecied fool
out to fool everyone
who is the man in the middle blindly safe pointing fingers at enemies
suspiciously whom are not enemies at all?
yet there to serve their purpose to protect the prophecied brave fool
whom may seemingl plan to fail if he is brave
and society just might help him along the way to realise who is he and who he
isnt without a word spoken
if this prophecied person prophecied to be protected by mankind is senselessly
brave
will mankind stop the chaos if he falls for the madness himself and goes to battle
the whole world on his side
for it could get messy if mankind fails the test of babysitting this prophecied being
but surely mankind has plans of their own
a crime of the century
a protest
demands for there being proof of such gods
My first middle and last names are songs
as is my birthday
i just keep guessing
bravely living in fear planning to succeed and fail
stirring the pot and milking it
who am i ask
I am but a man
if you cant save me from yourself
and me from myself the future must be doom and gloom
game on
everywhere i go is a crime scene
everyone a suspect
everyone a body guard
the gods love me
and somwhere in this mess mankind plays a role of teaching me not to destroy
myself
Robert Sherriff - Australian - Poet -Author - Singer - Actor - American Historian – Photographer
Has anyone seen my old friend? Abraham
In the ever-turning pages of history, specific years stand like pillars, holding up the weight of profound change: 1865, the year of the Civil War's end and the abolition of slavery; 1881, the year of President Garfield's assassination; 1901, the year of President McKinley's assassination and the rise of Theodore Roosevelt; and 1963, the year of President Kennedy's assassination and the Civil Rights Movement.
Will history repeat itself on January 12, 2025? Each of these years marks a moment of transformation, a shift in our nation's consciousness.
Remember 1865, when Abraham Lincoln's vision of unity and equality was cut short, yet his legacy ignited the flame of freedom that still burns bright.
Reflect on 1962 and the iconic moment when Marilyn Monroe serenaded a president, symbolizing the complex interplay between fame and politics. These were not just moments but testaments to the resilience and determination of these historical figures, inspiring us with their unwavering strength.
Recall the turbulent days of 1963, a year stained by the loss of John F. Kennedy, whose dreams of a new frontier were silenced by an assassin's bullet.
Honor Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr., voices of a revolution that demanded justice and equality, their echoes are still heard in today's struggles.
Bobby Kennedy was a beacon of hope whose journey was tragically abbreviated, yet his call for peace and social justice continues to inspire. Like stars in the night sky, these figures illuminated the path to a more just and equal world.
These years, these figures shaped the world we live in. Their legacies remind us that change is born from courage, that progress demands sacrifice, and that the fight for equality and justice is not a chapter in history but an ongoing narrative that we all contribute to. It's a call to action, a reminder that the fight is not over, and we all have a role to play, emphasizing the urgency and importance of our contributions.
It's a collective effort, a shared responsibility that binds us together in this noble cause.
Baile con migo, hips made from the rhythm of merengés and cumbias, samba, swagger and a pinch of azucar mixed into my backbone.
My first language was Spanish.
Learned from sweet stories told by my papi at bedtime.
My tongue a formation of the stardust of my heritage,
An intertwined galaxy of rolled r’s and the pledge of allegiance.
It was something I would soon forget after I was told it was wrong
Taught a new way to introduce myself “mi nombre es” turned to “my name is” after the girl in my class told me she couldn’t understand me.
So I was taught to reject the language of my family and to be proud to call myself American over Mexican.
Now my Spanish 2 native class seems so god damn foriegn and I can't seem to remember what comes after domingo on my pop quiz.
I would learn to hate my name, much preferring something like Tiffany,
Leaving behind my silent TL and X that sounds like an S because they said it was strange.
When I visit my grandmother all I could do is nod or shake my head,
Because her native language sounds like a tongue twister I can't seem to master.
So she reminds me that the colors in my soul and the rhythm in my bones are blessings and that I come from the Incas, the Mayans, the Aztecs, los Mexicas, who built an empire nunca imaginado.
That we are a children of an oscuro pasado,
A mixture of pain, sadness and oppression,
But we inherited the strength.
We have inherited the passion.
She reminds me that my name holds the power of the most legendary Aztec princesses who ruled with the grace of the most beautiful flower.
So this is for the women that still name their children in nahuatl and the men who wake up on Sunday mornings to listen to Vicente Fernandez with their fathers,
And families that still pass on recipes of arroz con pollo.
Because we are the sons and the daughters,
And we hold the stories,
The journeys of the remembered,
Those who walked through deserts, waded through rivers.
We wear their legacies on our shoulders with pride,
And we do not lose ourselves to broken perceptions,
But rise above with the help of our powerful stories.
Our melodies, our galaxies,
Por que somos Latino-Americanos
And we will not be forgotten
Robert Sherriff - Australian - Poet -Author - Singer - Actor - American Historian – Photographer
My old friend
In the ever-turning pages of history, specific years stand like pillars, holding up the weight of profound change: 1865, the year of the Civil War's end and the abolition of slavery; 1881, the year of President Garfield's assassination; 1901, the year of President McKinley's assassination and the rise of Theodore Roosevelt; and 1963, the year of President Kennedy's assassination and the Civil Rights Movement.
Will history repeat itself on January 12, 2025? Each of these years marks a moment of transformation, a shift in our nation's consciousness.
Remember 1865, when Abraham Lincoln's vision of unity and equality was cut short, yet his legacy ignited the flame of freedom that still burns bright.
Reflect on 1962 and the iconic moment when Marilyn Monroe serenaded a president, symbolizing the complex interplay between fame and politics. These were not just moments but testaments to the resilience and determination of these historical figures, inspiring us with their unwavering strength.
Recall the turbulent days of 1963, a year stained by the loss of John F. Kennedy, whose dreams of a new frontier were silenced by an assassin's bullet.
Honor Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr., voices of a revolution that demanded justice and equality, their echoes are still heard in today's struggles.
Bobby Kennedy was a beacon of hope whose journey was tragically abbreviated, yet his call for peace and social justice continues to inspire. Like stars in the night sky, these figures illuminated the path to a more just and equal world.
These years, these figures shaped the world we live in. Their legacies remind us that change is born from courage, that progress demands sacrifice, and that the fight for equality and justice is not a chapter in history but an ongoing narrative that we all contribute to. It's a call to action, a reminder that the fight is not over, and we all have a role to play, emphasizing the urgency and importance of our contributions.
It's a collective effort, a shared responsibility that binds us together in this noble cause.
Does it matter?
The future of our country, our world, the billions we're destined to create
Legacies built on humble ground form concrete jungles our sun cannot appreciate
Generations past saw less importance to sustain
Industry took place of sowing each vital grain
Filth fills our oceans, scatters the lands, and litters impressionable minds
More attentive equals more aware, requiring us to read between the lines
Willed to us great power and ever evolving ignorance
A choice to conform and ignore or seek out reverence
Generations ahead we cannot fathom have a future dependent on your uneducated selection
So many youth remain unaffected refusing to follow our direction
Unaware of Time as years are carefully woven thru deaths spindle
Spend wisely should apply to all which may eventually dwindle
Mother Nature will undoubtedly tire and she too, as us all, will expire
Be careful to Heed her warnings as they continually transpire
Passing the buck is no longer a valid option
Ambivalence is man made, a deadly concoction that will prove to be our most potent toxin
Extinction is not a myth, do you have dinosaurs as your neighbor?
Did you go to school with t-Rex smith?
sorry to say that your beliefs aren't relevant but who cares where you go in the end if all you left behind were empty cans and a big screen television.
It is a gift to exist, yet it's taken for granted, to really live we must embrace vision.
Preceded by people who changed everything but even the bravest of brave were only highly reactive.
This world we've been handed can only be changed by actions deemed as proactive.
We live in a bubble that we blindly assume is indestructible.
Well informed fools continue their path, blithely ignoring the undeniable.
Do you not feel mortal?
It's clear to some but many can not see the extensive damage we've done
Signs are everywhere, the challenge will be the years to come
An urgent call to action, thinkers and doers are among the highest in demand.
Open your eyes to what can be done,
Inspire your children to lend a tiny, yet capable hand.
Or choose to perpetuate civil destruction by sticking your head back in the sand
Man or myth, fact or fiction, a primitive walking legend,
A photo vision of realism, or fraud’s conception of the
Ultimate hoax gone wrong, evolution's unseen experimental
Beast, lying in the hallow shadows of discovery.
In the tinder box of humanity vs. creationism, the
Patterson film is a spark igniting the flame of
Controversy, singeing the ends of these too
Fragile beliefs, pitting them against each other.
Anomaly belong, in the twisted trail of DNA,
Is she a Hominid unknown or a cryptid fake?
In the vast body of evidence, do we truly
Have to kill just to prove that something exists,
Life is mystery, beauties accent quality, and
Freedom is a God given right, not to be taken
Away lightly, with a single bullets flashing’s strike.
Look within the eyes of the beast, to her kind
We are the true animals, invading her kindred’s
Environments.
In the forest wilds here the screaming cries of the
Missing extinct, raging at their iron bars of the
Forgotten species, as the last one falls, do we
Not hear their bodies hitting the floor of existence.
Are we not the intelligent ape, whom climbed down
From the trees, and walked upon two legs of knowledge,
Nay do I ponder these questions?
In the linkages of legacies frame work, a divine welder
And craftsman decides the lines of survival not mankind.
A harsh fact in realism, tomorrow we may become the earthen dust
Blowing in the winds of destiny, joining the dinosaurs of yesterday.
Man or myth, fact or fiction, a primitive walking legend,
A photo vision of realism, or fraud’s conception of the
Ultimate hoax gone wrong, evolution's unseen experimental
Beast, lying in the hallow shadows of discovery.
.In the forest thicket, the hunters stalk the forests unknown,
And there huddled together are the cryptic, hugging
Their young tenderly ever closer to the bare bosom, hushing them
To remain silent, for mankind draws ever nearer.
Man or myth, fact or fiction, a primitive walking legend,
A photo vision of realism, or fraud’s conception of the
Ultimate hoax gone wrong, evolution's unseen experimental
Beast, lying in the hallow shadows of discovery.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN