Long Lower case Poems
Long Lower case Poems. Below are the most popular long Lower case by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lower case poems by poem length and keyword.
Teachers and Faculty care less and less about students every year
If u aren't the favorite don't expect caring
Ur parents have to bring cookies to the bake sale
Teachers have our children's life in their hands
Take some responsibility
One on one communication goes a long way
Drop knowledge whenever u can
Whether it be elementary, Watson
Or High School High and u don't Lovitz
As Teachers pass kids in hallways and treat them like people u pass on the sidewalk
Unless they r causing trouble
Then they get attention
Positive reinforcement, don't u know!?
Pay them no mind if they r quiet and have a 2.8 GPA or higher
The only time the schools contact parents is if something is wrong
Or if the child met their criteria for acknoledgement
Teaching children used to be a calling
Now it is just a job
Just a young persons misguided career path
Being forced to say what they want to be when they grow up
Our youth has potential if we pay attention
Dropout rates and political red tape
Underpaid teacher and staff
State Lottery does not do what our government said it would do
Lower case because it is not important
State Lottery is supposedly there to help our schools and fix our roads
Yet to see that actually help either situation in Michigan
Other states may be different
In some states a school is a business, Owned by a corporation
Turning a profit
Is being a Teacher actually a Customer Service job?
Small Towns get overlooked as our Youth passes through the interent router
Spoken word is too much effort
A teacher's eyes glued to a screen
Right along with the child they r supposed to be teaching
Children cannot speak for themselves
Parents have the responsibility to be their voice
The voice of the voiceless
Politicians and public relations speak of "we"
There is no "I" in "Team"
Teaching our youth to not be selfish and to share
But if they r only thinking of others who is left to think about them
The coach's team has a winning season
2 kids sit on the bench the whole season
No hopes of actually playing
The "team" wins the Championship
Wearing the same shirt doesn't make u a "team"
When asked why the kids didn't play all season
School said the coach's job was based on wins
If the kids wanted to have more game time, they should be better at the game
Actual Events leading to this piece of literature
Save our Youth
Learning when/how to close seat then...
flush... the toilet with good frisson!
(alternately titled long windedly
using lower case letters:
no matter tidily bowled over based
upon real events, perhaps subject devoid
of literary merit and/or taste
no embarrassment, cuz
I got nothing to cover
despite precious time going to waste).
Analogous to constipation,
constitutes full term pregnancy,
perhaps umpteenth or first,
which former offal bodily function I durst
mention, said subject doth stink,
yet... exercising bowel
applicative, constrictive, effective,
exhaustive, gesticulative, instinctive,
massive, oppressive, qualitative,
quantitative, significative and unitive
(beg to differ if ye think me perverse)
both scenarios prone to stress and strain,
difficulties can arise evacuating bowels
gluteus maximus muscles severely pursed,
radiating sharp stabbing sensations
behind junk in trunk quarters felt
until bulging temple veins ready to burst,
where piles of hemorrhoids
foul rectum tortured and accursed
necessitating Judas Priest well versed
to issue last rites while
appropriate official dull livers worst
news to missus, whose
inconsolable sympathies nursed,
nevertheless bit torrent of sorrow
honor alone time with grateful dead
subsequently finds medical personnel disbursed,
privately newly minted widow mourning
tears for fears immersed
bemoaning sudden permanent absence
gone fore e'er foremost farter figure first
instance obliterated, when posterior
uproariously (actually not funny)
inflicted hemorrhage emergency,
die hard ludicrous poet (me) experienced
all expense chauffeured ride in hearst
aforementioned purportedly roughly comparable,
courtesy hearsay, when
hypothetical woman with child,
(here, I metaphorically paraphrase)
as maven ready to take aim giving birth
(nine months after satiating
hankering call of the wild
buzzfeeding miracle worker whipped thirst,
and temporarily appeased
inherent maternal yearning
to beget offspring, then... off to races
sprinting at greased lightning speed
amazingly enough slightly protruded womb,
(among other fledgling
and/or practiced moms avid runners
all touted as winners relay race crossing
finish line simultaneously
comprising distance measuring more'n verst.
Top notch legal scholar Erin Go Braw
(less concerned about being fair versus
abominable, irrevocable, and execrable
unforgivable oversight most holy "M" & nonce)
cabinet of high priests,
sans spelling chieftains ready to claw
your person to bits,
and they presage remote clemency
which decision told, when Jeff Sessions
decides final punishment to draw
now, (see excerpted lines
visited with glaring flaw
"Benediction For Lord Apple Macintosh"
where ...bot sized wetbacks, setbacks,
and drawbacks, required a secret char),...
intimates a "hee haw"
and rock'm n sock'm pull no punches
square at yar triangular jaw
YES, on account misspelling,
whence Grammarian Jude Law
at the least aims (to topple a prospective
title of eminence grise), banning access
to such undeserved
catbird seat, sans Rhetorical perch
laughing while ja plaintively call for maw
darn Oxford English Dictionary - but naw
can do, and hence paw
mister trumpeting
"FAKE" wordsmith raw
flesh will turn into....
unreadable print until closing text
that elaborates how holiness felt vexed.
To ye (a freshly minted scalawag),
these 20/20 eyes bulged agog
while steaming with invective
at what attempted
to pass as sacred poetic blog
when thee (Matthew Scott Harris),
now pronounced, an illiterate,
immoderate, and inveterate å!@#$%?
with a severe cerebral clog
(meaning prefrontal lobotomy
not out of the question),
you m~r mangy whelp of a she dog
(my humble apologies to canines),
less deserving than being
whipped near death's doorstep flog
after henchmen (strongly
resembling Alaskan BullWorms
guarding this royal hutch,
herein Cupertino, California.
be careful
when you
invite new
metaphors
into your
fresh built
box of a poem.
a small
house is
perfect
or a poet
that has
few silver
words left
in their
pocket.
lower case
is cheaper
than uppercase.
as you nail
penny-nails
with your
wobbling
flat head
hammer;
simpleness
into
all your
lines.
be careful
metaphors
can act
like
miniature
tigers.
some
of the
metaphors
want to start
problems
to scratch
at your
floorboard
& swing from
your curtains
with their
sharp
retractable claws
& climb
on your
window panes
& leave
their nose-prints
impressed
on each
window
in each
of your
stanzas.
take the
broom
& chase
the troublesome
ones out
past the door jams
of your poem.
keep the
few
metaphors
that are
asleep
at the
hearth.
the similes
you scattered
as a homecoming
blessing
turn into
see-through
butterflies
& flap
their wings
in symmetry
of beats
up the
wainscot
the sparrow
of your
voice
awakes on
the swinging
perch of
your small simple
birdcage
& begins
to chirp
& the
symbols
hiding in
the nooks
& crannies
come to your
table to steal
crumbs & slices
of green cheese
that you
have sliced
quietly
from
the moonrise
slowly
forming
like onion skin
in the
lightbulb
you keep
dutifully hidden
in your head.
symbols squeak
and the metaphors
dream
of goldfish
swimming
in the periods
the little bowls
you
place
in kindness
at the ends
of your stanzas.
An English Major Explains the Beauty of The Dirac Equation with No Success Whatsoever
Schrodinger, mostly famous for playing the piano
in the well-known comic strip by Schulz,
was not related to Vince Guaraldi.
It would be irrational to assume
any blood relationship could exist
between a comic strip character
and an actual pianist.
However, when particles of fiction
interact with particles of actual events
and individuals in the real world,
a blurring of fields
spins reality into questions
about perception and the role
of perception in its ability
to effectively distinguish
differences between what's real
and what's imagined.
The absolute value of this interaction
between variant components
is sometimes expressed
in terms of contradictory constants,
but these constants have the propensity
to collide and reform themselves
into elements which are not
constant at all.
The resulting spin of post collision particles
sends stability into temporary disarray,
which continues until intertia slows
the particles into an equilibrium of sorts.
The Dirac Equation is composed
of symbols and letters and numerals
which are virtually incoherent
to 99.8% of English majors,
who generally agree
that The Dirac Equation
(like most other equations)
is only beautiful
when one is able
see the unfamiliar
constellation of arrows
and capitals mixed with lower case letters
and brackets and parentheses and commas
and what appear to be fractions
as beautiful because the sum
of their appearance
cannot reasonably be categorized
as ugly.
Jim Babwe
POESY TO (T)RAP
A poem for a competition is requested.
Who is the judge and what does s/he like?
Does political correctness circumscribe the contest?
Where shall the heart of upbeat poet strike?
Cancel that. The rhyming is old-fashioned.
Like speech the rhythm may not regulate.
And look out! Verses must not raise their
Symmetrical countenances
Lest the spirit of anarchy lose her boot straps
And struggle in the destitute tradition
Of great Milton, Longfellow or even Aussie Murray
Who could write an essay that reads like poetry,
So condensed are the thoughts into his vocab.
Oh dear! What craziness begins each line in capital
Consonant or vowel. I’m begging on my knees
To be forgiven for such outlandish tradition –
But I can’t help it.
Perhaps I’m just the juicy bug that eats the
Leaf of modern thought. I’ve yet to morph into
The rap of modern poesy. Forget that word!
But don’t you know computers now have stolen my
Authority. They think they know what I must write
And capitalise each brand new line against my
Deliberation with the lower case, in catastrophic singularity.
Oh!
I must importune my reader that the ‘oh dear’ line began my
Battle with computer misread of my desperate attempt to
Start a line in lower case and perhaps
Climb out of the chrysalis of poesy
And flutter the wings of rap.
And then complaints concern the excessive use
Of punctuation when they sight the quotes around
‘oh dear’.
Success at last! One line at least begins in lower case!
Perhaps, indeed, the chrysalis is snapped
And I can yet emerge a modern poet!
Declared debris? ... O' woe is me!
I am a just a chubby club of three..
Beyond the two, ... before the four
Not the card I hoped to be
If I could choose, I'd be much more!
I’d wear a crown, and be the king
But, what the heck….the deck is stacked!
A crying shame…to have a name
that holds no pride, and sad effect
is that I hold no claim to fame!
Even twos get twice the fame!
Just plain ole’ me..
Not five, not eight, not nine, not ten,
I’m hardly worth a chip to bet
Just a three of clubs…and chubby too
A chubby club! Oh! Woe is me! …
A plain old three of clubs I am
And I get snubbed, at poker games
No one really cares for me
They toss me in among the crowd
Of royalty and joker smiles
Ace defends his rightful place
Dueces often party wild!
I shuffle in, in lower case
Get pushed around the dealer’s place
Those sevens poke their hearts and spades
Into my face! It's a disgrace!
A racist bunch! … Why must it be?
The diamonds sparkle in the light
Those snobby queens don’t flirt with me
The hearts, in fact, get all the love
Old Jack, the leader of the pack
hangs out with only rowdy spades
The odds are stacked against my name
Even when I’m old and gray
I will shuffle in, worn, bent, and frayed,
And while they play their poker game
Some day they’ll use me as a peg
Folded over several ways
To fix that wobbly table leg!
______________________________________________________
Submitted for PD's Contest : 101 Old Poems in a Row #7
let me live in each moment
and feel the whispering of an endless love,
as it holds me silently in its warm embrace . .
- i am captivated -
simply swept away, by your amazing grace
it happened once upon a time,
in the harmony of words;
as the playful touch of a gentle breeze -
touched all of me,
i am free
and my heart found peace in the soothing symphony,
of everlasting bliss-
yes, my world cradles around you
so let me live in your heart forever,
and these tiny seconds that caress;
the whispering of an endless love
__________
~ because i want to be your everything ~
* a little romantic scribble *
Authors note: Endless Love - the piano version I had playing while I wrote this, as it set a beautiful mood for me. While reading these words, it needs to be playing in the background. Only if you choose to, you don't have to.
Also, there are many poems that I have written that are my favorite. This is one of them.
I like writing in lower case sometimes, as it is like a whisper upon the page.
United Nations, United Nations
What an oxymoron!
What an oxymoron!!
The platitude goes-
‘United we stand’
In the UN,
How erect we stand!
How erect we stand!!
We are *****erectus
Aren’t we?
This genocide-friendly unity of nations
With extra-care tending
The weeded garden of poison-trees.
When Hutus and Tutsies blood-bathe
The UN closely observes the situation,
When Israel unchilds, unhusbands and unfathers
The Palestinians, the UN
Appeals to both the parties to exercise restraint.
When the Theravada fanatics exterminate the Rohingyas
And the West-engineered Arab Spring
Tears the Middle East asunder,
The UN condemns and condemns and condemns!
O UN what a paradox you enflesh,
Bringing to the forefront
The anti-thesis -
‘United we stand, divided we fall’
To what insurmountable height you have taken
The human(un)kind, we have seen
Now anti-thetically we would like to fall
As ‘fair is foul, foul is fair’.
In your acronymic form
When in lower case
How prophetically you become
An ominous prefix!
UN, UN you are non-existent
An ethereal entity, a papier mache;
Ailan’s death has finally declared
You biologically dead.
Let this cenotaph be
Placed on top of UN HQ:
Here once architecturally stood
The divided conglomeration of Nations – the UN,
A metonymic entity
Proudly pronouncing human unyokability.
RIP, dear UN.
According to the dictates of Suzy Berlinsky,
a Hello Poetry sibilant chargé d'affaires
female equivalent, sans Grand Poobah
aye surmise she deems my preference
favoring lower case, especially taking
a figurative page from thee poetic play
book of e.e. cummings, (not to be con-
fused with Elijah E. Cummings, thee
American, and United States Democrat
representing Maryland's majority dark
skinned precinct of Baltimore County
seventh congressional district), whose
shadow of fame diminished, but flagrant
flapping flaunting Puritanical principles
tantamount to in traducing taboos up-
ending ala revolutionary lampooning
his trademark imprimatur guilt frisson
faculty of his to delve into controversial
material blatantly candidly devotedly ex
pressing thoughts, sentiments, and re-
flexes skewed asper an irreverent teas-
zing exuberance flouting orthodox re-
finery by playfully making mince meat
of long cherished, fixed, and insulated
mores as shock treatment technique to
exhibit parsimonious, opprobrious, and
noxious malice lobbing fondness for
writing without heeding thy fondness
NOT CAPITALIZING the first person
singular pronoun, i, an upside down
exclamation point, whose dot eye see
clearly despite the fierce maelstrom!