Long Low profile Poems
Long Low profile Poems. Below are the most popular long Low profile by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Low profile poems by poem length and keyword.
Silently he moves about,
Searching for easy prey.
An expert opportunist,
His game is not just play.
Often using a disguise,
To blend with his surroundings,
He keeps a low profile,
Until he's got his grounding.
He's a real chamelion,
A shape shifter for sure.
Whatever suits the current mode,
He'll shift to change his lure.
Moving freely with the pack,
He makes all the right sounds.
A wolf amid the dozing sheep,
Until his mark is found.
Friend or foe, it matters not.
He'll do what must be done.
Some sacrifices must be made.
Some fall before the gun.
Beware the friend you know little about,
But knows you far too well.
The friend who says not much at all,
But hears all you will tell.
Like the shark, he's silent,
Seeking what he may find;
And like the shark he's ruthless,
Preying on his own kind.
In November I'll keep a low profile
Humans kill my kind so I must use guile
If I gobble to a mate
I'll be on a dinner plate
I detest living this muted lifestyle
I am a North American Wild Turkey
Thanksgiving Day is freaky and quirky
Try some cock-a-doodle-doo
Put chicken on your menu
My meat is too lean to make good jerky
Last year I lost my buddy, Fatso Fred
Saw tail feathers fly and knew he was dead
Chosen cuz he was plump
Got whacked on a tree stump
Had his stomach stuffed with yellow cornbread
In a few months I'll have to be wary
Being a turkey is very scary
With thanks I'll be toasted
But fear I'll be roasted
Served with yams and a side of cranberry
I am a bird - Personification
Tania Kitchin - Sponsor
Date Posted - July 22, 2020
Unhappy lunch
I could sense as soon as we entered
the restaurant that was a family run business
there had been a turmoil in the kitchen
the servers were father and daughter who
normally worked well together, but to day he
was in the kitchen, his daughter said, when
I asked
There were still many costumers, but they
kept a low profile and spoke subdual when
eating, we had entered a war zone
when our food came it was served on a dish
where my meat was grey like it had been
boiled, fries were uneven remanded of sailor
who had jut made ashore from a sinking ship
falling exhausted to the ground, and the
fried egg had been killed into a hard shell
However the salat, possible made before the
civil war, was good
Needless to say I refused to eat the served
my wife more skilled in diplomatic niceness
told the girl server to pack the food to take home
that I for some reason was not hungry
the lesson is, do not upset chefs in their kitchen
They are dying in Ukraine, you know...
America voted in the clowns;
Russian bombs falling on Maternity
Hospitals, you know...America voted
in the clowns;
Bernie Sanders and his wife
taking a second honeymoon
in Russian, perhaps? Seeming nowhere to be found,
America voted in the clowns;
From leaders of the Democrat Party, whose poor
policies have indirectly given Putin Money to purchase
his lethal rounds, I hear no remorseful sounds...
American voted in the clowns;
Where are the often, incessant, voices of loudmouth sports figures?
Hollywood Trump Haters, the rabid supporters of Biden, Obama and Clinton?
Silent as those movies of old, keeping low profile, in their mansion bunkers not so bold...
America makes idols of clowns.
The oldies retreated from work
But not from killing time
Time allocated may be
As much as the upheaval of
Domestic, world affairs or politics
Although most of the time
They are boasting their present
Bragging their past
Blathering about dissatisfaction
Drivelling politics
They aren't retreating from the world
They are living amongst friends
Gossiping amongst them with low profile
But have once lived with history
But still having a vote in hand
And they will find the truth eventually
With the rest of the time
Before embarking on a journey of
Truth and justice
Which is nearer to god
Which will never be revealed easily
I’m judged without them knowing what I go through.
Whatever I do, judgment always falls.
The venomous tongues never fail.
That’s why, no matter what I do, I don’t care about their opinions.
I don’t live for them.
Their judgment is nothing I need.
Examples shoot out from every side—
I sit on them all.
The world is cruel; whatever I do,
They’ll always talk about me.
I don’t care about their gaze! I am myself,
No matter the circumstances.
I do what I love, I nurture my joy, I build my confidence.
Their gaze slides off me—
Useless and barren.
Two things I weigh without emotion:
Their lives, and their views.
I’m not like salt—
Good for every dish.
Their opinions don’t count.
I simply try to move forward—straight.
I walk without fear, even when the ground crumbles.
I follow my path, not the one they try to force on me.
They told me: “Keep a low profile,”
But my truth does not bow.
I prefer my blunt silences to their fake words,
My raw actions to their empty promises.
I no longer wait to be understood.
I understand myself—and that is enough.
They want me to doubt, to bend, to break,
But I raise my thoughts like a banner of defiance.
I’m not the reflection they want to force upon me.
I am what I chose to be—unmasked, unmirrored.
I need no validation.
What I build is my liberation.
After each trial, I strengthen my armor—
Not to hide, but to choke their persecution.
They love when I stay low, silent, invisible.
But the moment I rise, they point their dry fingers.
Let them talk—their babble can’t reach me.
They beat against filthy walls—
I don’t hear them.
I’ve gone deaf to their slander.
I am my own measure,
No factory product, no cartoon.
I do what I must, without their permission.
My cross, my voice, my choices—
All are mine.
Nothing in me bows.
My life is no submission.
From time to time I feel low,
Low in self-esteem, low-keyed,
lowest man on the totem pole,
I have acrophobia, I often
descent to a lower level…
The higher I aspire
The lower I fall.
Life mostly lowball me
as such, my spirit keeps a low morale.
Maybe I come across as
a low bred and lowbrow person.
Conspired by my stars and the moon
My sea always rests at a low tide.
Shell-shocked by my low-minded destiny,
My fate and I must have
a high level showdown soon;
In the meantime,
I'll keep a low profile.
Be that as it may,
My soul is not doomed to wander
in the netherworld forever,
I am the patron of high hopes,
high cholesterol, high blood pressure,
and high sugar level.
I am also a high-strung person,
But, thankfully not of any highfalutin jargon.
Shy of highways, I frequent
the by lanes and side streets.
After the high-handed takeover by Time,
I live a high-pressured life.
Methinks, now is the high time
to lay down the highlights of my life.
From the descent and ascent of life,
this I have learned:
Not to gaze so high as ambition,
And to look no lower than despair.
Written By: D. Collins 3/1/2016
It feels good omitting adjectives and verbs.
And, stepping right into soul-shaking words.
Not penning drama, but getting right to the root.
I love being able to pen only the truth.
Cutting every stanza to it’s imp-degree.
Keeping the reader active in the story.
Because deep within it, there’s a bit of vintage wine.
The education I received, and secrets only mine.
I love doing this, passing along history.
Showing young people how to get as old as me.
If they paid attention and kept a low-profile.
I guarantee, most of them will live quite awhile.
I love doing this. Getting in a “Young’unz” face.
Showing them how to exist among the human race.
They may not like it, or may not wanna be pressed.
A man dressed in knowledge, is dressed at his best.
Never, Always, Sometimes
Stretched across the years of time,
memory plays hide and seek.
In the foggy daydreams, shadows find
early life rarely has a voice to speak.
Hidden in the quiet corners
low profile is an easy escape.
Never stepping boldly forth, always the loner,
and in hanging back it is best to hesitate.
Sometimes though, some inner spirit rises
and takes the dramatic leap forward
Voices shout speaking what the world despises
of life, liberty, justice is not just words.
Never do the masses speak in unison
always there are protesters an dissenters.
Deep in the thoughts of freedom lies the fusion
sometimes we only see the adventure.
Never is such a negative aspersion
drowning hope and dreams of life.
Always is too much an elaborate excursion
holding back for fear of the daily strife.
Sometimes, now there’s thought and possibility
that success can reveal it’s way
Sometimes then, there is less futility
in being self and loving every day.
Small guys or bigger, all have a mobile,
E’en tattered beggars… all have a mobile.
Social-media eager has a mobile,
Be they big bloggers… all have a mobile.
Even a gravedigger has a mobile,
Or well-known figures… all have a mobile.
One not sweet like sugar has a mobile,
Or sweet-voiced singers… all have a mobile.
Every Tom, Dick, Meagre has a mobile,
Big figure leaguers… all have a mobile.
___________________________
Ghazal (Tongue-in-cheek) |11.10.2024| humour
Poet’s note: Every Tom, Dick, Meagre has a mobile, as this Ghazal claims, but many true leaguers do not bother about smart phones. The world truly runs by the people that keep low profile. The billionaire investor Warren Buffet used no smart mobile for long years till Apple’s Tim Cook gave one insisting on its use. He does not waste time on social media. Pop Singer Ed Shiran also does not use smart mobile, and says, I used to see world through mobile’s screen, but now I see it with my own eyes. We can add actor Tom Cruise and singer Justine Bieber in this list, and quite a few more.