Long Loyalty Poems
Long Loyalty Poems. Below are the most popular long Loyalty by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Loyalty poems by poem length and keyword.
Our Love
Our love, like hydrogen's bond,
Is the simplest, yet profound.
Like helium's lightness, we float,
In each other's arms, we bloat.
Lithium's fire ignites within,
A spark that's always been.
Beryllium's strength is our foundation,
A love built with determination.
Carbon's essence fuels our fire,
As we create our own empire.
Nitrogen's breath is in our lungs,
A love that never fails or slums.
Oxygen's embrace is like a kiss,
That fills our hearts with pure bliss.
Fluorine's passion is in our eyes,
A love that never tells lies.
Neon's light shines in our soul,
As we journey towards our goal.
Sodium's presence is always felt,
In the love we both have dealt.
Magnesium's spark has made us whole,
A love that's pure and full of soul.
Aluminum's bond is unbreakable,
A love that's true and unshakable.
Silicon's strength is in our mind,
As we journey and unwind.
Phosphorus's light guides our way,
Through the highs and lows of each day.
Sulfur's heat fuels our desire,
A love that's deep and won't expire.
Chlorine's essence is in our scent,
A love that's pure and innocent.
Argon's stability is in our heart,
A love that's never been apart.
Potassium's spark ignites our soul,
As we become each other's goal.
Calcium's bond is our foundation,
A love that's strong and never shaken.
Scandium's essence is in our will,
To love each other until.
Titanium's strength is in our being,
As we embrace and keep believing.
Vanadium's spark ignites our fire,
A love that's true and never a liar.
Chromium's bond is our connection,
A love that's deep and full of affection.
Iron's strength is in our love,
As we soar like an eagle above.
Nickel's essence is in our trust,
A love that's pure and never rusts.
Copper's spark ignites our passion,
A love that's strong and full of compassion.
Zinc's bond is our commitment,
A love that's true and never indifferent.
Silver's essence is in our purity,
A love that's deep and full of security.
Tin's spark ignites our flame,
A love that's pure and never lame.
Gold's bond is our unity,
A love that's strong and never petty.
Lead's essence is in our loyalty,
A love that's true and never disloyal.
Platinum's spark ignites our soul,
As we become each other's goal.
*_@Otieno Elvis Gikoi_*
*_30LettersToMyGirlfriend_*
*_THE ELO’S POETRY_*
*_ArtFromHeart_*
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
My phone died this week.
I’ve ordered a new one—
I’d like to say I’ve enjoyed the silence,
just lo-fi music playing, slipping into a flow state.
But I’d be lying.
Only a handful of friends to tell.
Enough to register
the tragedy of going off-grid
like it’s 1503—
where I imagine
I’d be decent
at throwing logs on a fire,
but useless at hunting.
No survival instinct.
I get sentimental when it gets quiet.
It's surprising
that this is how I finally understand
what Black Mirror really meant.
Slick glass, dark and dead,
reflecting back:
smeared rectangle
of myself
slack-jawed, staring.
Neither of us blinking—
only one of us
alive,
allegedly.
I’d had that phone
since before the pandemic.
It held more than my cache:
its shape, my memory—
my hand
aches
for its frictionless drag,
but I had to get a replacement.
I picked the same model,
not out of loyalty,
just me hoping
it would backfill the imprint
of its ancestor.
I'm not too proud
to admit
I miss the constancy,
companionship,
the fugue-state afternoons
given over to scrolling.
I’ve been more alone than I expected.
And lonelier still,
realizing
how much of me
was never here to begin with.
It's a disorienting false north,
this gatherlessness; I'm still sitting with it.
By the way, it's untrue news
that tech is soulless—
it's been up
at least one mortal ever since
my husband powered it on for me,
a gift,
ersatz affection
in response to a lack of discretion
he'd only recently admitted.
And get this: apparently, I cry now.
Despite half a life of spent
convincing myself
I’d therapized it out—
that tears were just poorly timed
girlish things I'd evicted
due to their silencing effect.
I was wrong,
they were only hiding in the attic—
turns out all this noise was just insulation
from every soft place.
Evenings with him feel longer.
He’s older, closer
to death than me. He’d hate that I said it.
I won’t tell him. We’ve learned
to steer clear of each other’s art.
No rules about who we kill
on the page.
Best to leave it that way.
I wonder if we'll go back to old habits.
I think I already know answer.
This screenless space hasn’t been clarifying—
just absence,
with no metaphor to cushion it.
At the risk of repeating myself,
I do know this:
I miss her, Distraction—
this is for all the DECENT ladies out there...
i dont know about you, but im sick of being second choice to skeezy women
i dont know about you, but when i have a boyfriend i just get sick of livin
i dont know about you, but i know about me
and this girl here,shes sick of the pleas
sick of the ********, sick of the crap
sick of all the "friends" who talk behind my back
sick of it all, sick of everything
and with this feeling, positive im supposed to bring?
im sick of being told "its my outlook on life"
youre so negative, you make your own strife
i dont know about you, but its not MY atatood
it all the ugliness in this sick twisted world
and i dont know about you, but im fed up
i dont about you but i give up
i dont know about you, but im done feeling the way i do
and i dont know about you, but then again i think i do
you pick yourself apart, about all your flaws
and when they cheat and lie, it just instills that further,its a law
i dont know about you, but i think i do
you're the girl, much like myself
with a good heart and a bad sense of health
build us up, tear us down
i dont know about you, but i really think i am going crazy
i dont know about you, but i think theyre all lazy
too lazy to try, too lazy to care
too lazy to give a ****, but the energy shows up when in satans lair
no more loyalty, to get kicked in the teeth
no more "friends" who just make you weep
no more crap, and no more forgiving
no more forgetting and NO MORE RE LIVING.
im not settling, i have enough of "so-so" to last my whole life
and i dont know about you girls, but it ends tonight.
we stop picking ourselves apart, we stop blaming ourselves
we stop thinking our little "flaws" ar why they did this
when its about someone else
its about them, the people they choose to be around
and quite frankly, before id be around THEM id be buried in the ground.
alive.
yes i hate them that much
and i dont know about you, but i have had enough
i wont blame myself, when skeezy outdoes classy
i wont blame myself for the hilariously tacky
things i see, on a daily basis
and i dont know about you
but i too, can fake it.
see its harder for me,to be mean like you all are
im not built that way, and being mean hurts my heart
so no i cant do the revenge thing
but what i can do is protect myself again
i dont know about you, but its long overdue
i DO know about you...because i AM you.
you are not alone.
...For two weeks Lester worked that pyrite vein,
and every day a brand new dollar came,
at the end he hug dug out two cart’s worth,
said Higgs, “Now that’s enough work in the earth.”
He smiled proud, they dragged it to the trains,
Lester still sure the old man was insane,
once loaded up, he said, “I will return
in six months to see you get all you’ve earned.”
He saw him off, thinking that that was that,
the man was mad, but his wallet was fat,
Lester had coin to live another month,
jobs came and went, he needed a new one.
Some laughed at him for digging up fool’s gold,
friendly ribbing, if all the truth be told,
he didn’t mind, and got a good story
to tell people when out drinking whiskey.
Come wintertime, Lester was at the bar,
Higgs and his mine from Lester’s thoughts were far,
he shot the bull with several local guys
when the door open, and all were surprised.
There stood Mad Higgs, shaking off winter snow,
he saw Lester, and to him he dig do,
and on that bar, in front of half the town
a thousand dollars in greenbacks slapped down.
All eyes went wide at such a stack of cash,
Higgs said, “Now partner, I say you earned that!”
The tumult came, people confused and loud,
over and over, they just asked him, “How?!”
Higgs just smiled, “I said that I’d be back,
spent half a year selling it from my sack
to the children, those precious girls and boys,
yes, my pyrite was their new favorite toy!
“They like shiny things, no one need be told,
and loved to play with rocks that look like gold.
The girls pretend that it’s their jewelry,
the boys pretend that they are rich, you see.”
The men in the bar then all clambered ’round,
cried how they’d like to help him work the ground,
but Higgs said, “Loyalty I do reward.
stay health, Les. Come spring we will dig more.
“Next time Ill give you forty percent share,
but now I have to run, so folks, take care!”
He walked out of the bar to catch a train,
he wasn’t mad, just cagey with his game.
Now for this winfall Lester gave great thanks,
invested most in mines, ranches, and banks,
until he could survive of dividends,
not have to labor each day like most men.
But two weeks of the year when Higgs returned,
he’d go that shaft, and his dollar earn,
dig out pyrite for Higg’s to take and sell,
a fortune of fool’s gold, so people tell.
Nationalism,
nation supremacy,
rooted in competing patriarchal capital rivalries,
is entirely incompatible with EarthPatriotism
rooted in loyalty to cooperatively healthy matriotism
Wherever MotherEarth may yet be healthy climate rediscovered
in sensory input and outputs of a child
unbound breathing in enculturing good humor
Still fully awake
meaning much more than not yet dead,
Embracing Earth's Paradise found
means far more than ending homelessness,
bareness,
hopelessness,
For restoring cooperative peace
more than competing retributive-avoidance models
for justice as invoking a fee
and loss of freedom punishments
while preaching skills in anger and depression management,
but silent about happiness and compassion cooperative ownership.
Competition in nationalism,
whether white
against pink,
royal purple
against ultra-violet feminist,
even green
against black and brown prejudice,
each autonomously anti-ecological nationalistic stew
when we simmer down
into non-violent communication
of spatial Here
with temporal Now,
Competing FirstChoice nation-states
miss golden global opportunities
to embrace healthier polycultural outcomes
of multicultural cooperative grace,
polypathic WinWin karma,
polyphonic musing face
of Earth's well-timed expansive soul
revolving space
A healthy organic way to speak
and think
and feel as a day and night revolving child
naturally embracing WinWin
co-redeeming spiritual ecopolitics.
Violent competitions,
mutual abuse and neglect,
between ZeroZone sacred nations
are antithetical to cooperative conversations,
planning and nature development,
in EarthTribe non-violent WinWin communication
CoArising nighttime dreamscape melodies,
non-conspiring feeling peacefully immunized
against conspiracy theories
playing WinLose roles
embracing evolutionary predative jihad anxieties,
risks to bully or become bullied by chaotic capital climates
and internal bicameral storms,
nightmare feelings nauseously disassociating inside from outside,
ego against eco,
concave overbearing convex,
ZeroZone soul ignoring OneZone body's primal needs and feelings,
Right bipolar conflicting Left dipolar co-arising
EarthSoul Health integrity
prefers co-reflecting
4-SpaceTime Revolutionary Boson Models--
opaquely expanding DNA-structured splendor.
Sojourners in a land not our own
seek we the place we will call our home
archetype of the promise you gave to Abraham
the future children they shall possess the land
Servants of the Truth dwellers of the tent
traveled upon your path wherever you them sent
faithful to your laws the life you for them choose
vast are your promises nothing here to lose
Happy is the one who listens to your voice
blessings you have offered who could refuse the choice
like Jesus laid down that life for Love that is True
the heavenly nature he hoped to give to you
And so in past are hidden all of our sorrows
but haunt they do the ghosts of our tomorrows
though dead and gone the memories of our past
their essences remain with us until the last
Like all those born we have fallen down
but you oh God have promised us a crown
hand picked you have only hearts of those be true
willing in Loves service your requests they do
Adoration for your wisdom clarity and light
hearts teaming with affection every day and night
a language the land of time forgot
touched by tragedy in the kingdom of the caught
Crushed and lost in the roads we have wandered
loyalty love and truth our characters been squandered
slaves to a system full of harmful thought
lack of loving kindnesses what the adversary brought
A dearth of justice , afflictions are the cost
removed from the garden all there we have lost
you have promised a return to the land of song
a paradise where all mankind will belong
We watch the events that have marked our time
your plan for the next age to bring all things in line
with urgency to keep the laws of Love in sight
for descending to earth is cast the Lord of night
Rejoice oh lovers the accuser from heaven banished
woe oh earth he comes a ravaging and famished
six millennia the blood of the prophets spilled
seeks now he does all of mankind killed
The only thing now holding back the winds
the sealing of the holy ones closing to its ends
our Son be hidden the rise of the false dawn
a century of warning has sounded the alarm
No more excuses lesson from our history clear
man has thrown away whats precious
and placed what is harmful dear
Politics and religions has laid the deadly snare
strangled and destroyed our ability to care
again this piece too long for Poetry soup
to finish this piece .....www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=412832645980
Gardens,
like dreams
and other multiculturing complexities,
process
and sometimes progress into becoming ripe,
then unbecoming dormancy,
advent of and for regardening
redreaming seeds
preparing to further process
Perennial primal roots deepening into
new spring's progressive attachment
network of polycultural dream garden nutrition,
aesthetic nurture,
ethical nature,
animating spirit of Earth's co-arising power life.
Eden's original rising
and subsequent falling Garden
surrounds our GreenTribal Tree
of Ego/Eco-centering Life and WinterDeath.
The Creator's forbidden foreshadow Tree
of Good and Evil
is a secondary,
yet divinely co-inspired, Tree
on our LeftBrain monocultural way
toward reducing Life to Good
and seducing Death through Evil--
Dreaming up and down
Win to Lose evolutionary models
and capitalism's mono-atheistic further investments
in secularizing-commodifying Life
while spiritualizing accommodating Death;
praising win-win peace
while raising lose-lose Falls
re-enacting retributive divine greed,
detached disdaining injustice,
childish, perhaps adolescent at best, pettiness.
Evil, like Death,
is no more original
than the Great Fall and Eternal Winter,
whether we see and hear,
taste and touch
as divine Gardeners
or merely regenesis EarthTribal dreamers
of generic Spring uprisings
and Summer sensory climaxes
for Eden's Tree of cooperatively original EcoLife,
and secondarily hibernating shadows of Ego-Death
Waiting
like an original Falling spring
for our ecofeminist deep green learning RightBrain
Rising Up
like a new spring garden,
like a dreaming root-systemic Tree
of GoodLife win-win cooperative processes
and EvilDeath lose-lose competitive climate pathology
of and for further revolutionary
divinely inspired creations,
re-creations,
evolutions and devolutions
in Eden Gardens,
regenerative and degenerative dreams
co-arising good and evil fruit
absorbed by ecofeminists
and devoured by patriarchs
Together
equally interdependent
in good life
through evil death
EarthTribal loyalty,
interdependent global patriotism,
universal solidarity,
compassion,
love,
energy,
Original humane/divine co-arising attachment
and secondary wealth detachment
and tertiary green health reinvestment
in full garden cooperative enchantments.
The Cooee-booroo was Irish, a migrant to this land,
who fled his native Galway and the grip of famine's hand.
For fifteen years he'd forged a life 'round Goulburn, New South Wales,
though sought his dream on Coopers Creek, out where the black man hails.
Where native Bootamurra folk for years were known to roam,
the place they called Thullung-gurra - their ancient tribal home.
Kyabra's unspoilt waterhole was home to fish and birds,
though Patsy Durack had in mind to bring his cattle herds.
'Twas here he met young Burrakin, a figure barely clad,
who claimed the man ... Boonari now ... to this young native lad.
Though Patsy called him Pumpkin ... much easier in the end
and like the humble vegetable he proved the bushman's friend.
For that proud Bootamurra youth, a whole new life began,
as Pumpkin loved the Durack folk and claimed them as his clan.
He watched them build their empire through the good times and the bleak;
for sixteen years he helped them build grass castles on the Creek.
When Patsy finally left the run to try the city’s fare,
he left old Pumpkin as head man and thought him better there.
Then Durack planned to build a run up in the Kimberleys:
an empire for his two young sons, a kind of legacy.
But Pumpkin yearned the company of Patsy, his dear friend
and left his old Kyabra home to join him in the end.
He stood by Patsy Durack till the old man passed away,
though stayed to keep the dream alive and rests there to this day.
These two Australian pioneers did leave a legacy-
the meaning of true brotherhood - as you can plainly see.
So whether you be white or black, do copy if you can,
the Cooee-booroo from Ireland and that Bootamurra man.
I have always enjoyed reading the early history of our Australian pioneers and the Durack
family certainly played their part in opening up this vast country. Sometimes the
seemingly minor characters, who become an integral part of that history, tend to fade
into insignificance with the passing of time. Characters such as Burrakin [Pumpkin] of
the Bootamurra people, whose life was completely changed by the coming of the Durack
family to Kyabra Ck. Burrakin's outstanding display of loyalty to his white brother,
Patsy Durack, is well worth remembering. My tribute to both men
Sire she's been sighted
two miles south of Sinai,
our sentinels say she has brought a river,
her baggage train stretches into the ancient sands,
the envoys of her retinue spoke of marvelous gifts,
beasts and creatures of the Orient
gems that glitter like the eyes of children
summer baskets of gold bullion
and satchels of spice from Siam,
our men said they could smell the barrels of balsam Sire...
To travel with such unmistakable wealth
the Queen must have brought a war machine along,
have desert brigands been spotted near the route...
No my King, no raider encampments have been observed,
just the regular rabble and agape villagers,
it's been confirmed that her associates
are passing to the people pouches of cinnamon...
I don't trust the Egyptians,
they may try to incite the Bedouins to foolhardy thievery,
our Nation's honor demands
that not even the dust of the devil's danger
deign to dry upon the clothes of her most distant servants,
if the House of Zion can secure a partnership
with the trading powerhouse of Sheba
our supremacy over the Babylonians will be indomitable...
I pledge my life, and that of my family's
to her caravan's safety Sire...
So mote it be General,
your loyalty is my blessing,
may it be as strong as the staff of Moses,
dispatch 333 of the Lion's Legion
to reinforce the Queen's guard
and send a circuit of 15 water wagons...
What does a Queen dream of
in the calm desert nights...
I dream of roses melting
into snake bitten hearts,
I've dreamt of citadels broken
by the grips of greed,
I've seen a child walking out of a tomb,
what does a King dream of
in the shadow of paradise...
I dream of thorned stars,
the division of labor and wages,
of priests and Judges
whom wish to rule quietly without blame...
Do you know what thrilled me the most
about the Court reception...
Tell me, my cinnamon Queen...
The seduction of your Servants' silence
as I entered your meticulous throne room...
I understood their awe,
you moved so gracefully,
your body like an ancient lust
your face a flame of royalty...
I think I fell in love with your eyes,
there is something rough about you Solomon,
but your eyes and lips
relay a sweet mercy to me...
Mercy is never free Veronica...
I will pay the price...
We will pay the love cost together...
J.A.B.