Long Mansions Poems
Long Mansions Poems. Below are the most popular long Mansions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mansions poems by poem length and keyword.
How we miss those lovely, verdant scenes
of woodlands that framed our riversides;
rich, with hearty trees and creature life...
callously mowed down, destroyed
in name of progress and development...
deforestation...acres of lush trees,
and their creatures also now long gone;
territory lost by human cause.
They left; now stray into our yards,
exiled, hungry, have nowhere to go.
Once they roamed in nature's paradise,
now destroyed and cleared
for building mega-mansions on the shore.
Wealth...with loss of nature's gifts;
no mind, the killing of the trees...
sending animals to roam our streets.
Where do we find solutions?
What can we do to save earth's loss?
Protect our creatures' lives?
As long as money rules...there are none.
Life is not a rush"
I see too many religion,
All over places,
Yet I feel less love among the people,
I see people with lot of knowledge,
But few with wisdom,
Wonder why the scarcity?
Or is wisdom a ghost?
I see too many people,
With high level of class education,
They earn largely,
but yet lack happiness,
We fly to see,
What is in other planet,
While we lack the understanding of nature,
On earth,
I see men banking money,
They are too rich in money,
But they got no common sence,
They lack moral education,
Above all no peace of mind,
Oh gave me the herb,
Let me live long,
Too much advance medicine,
Yet we suffer from strange illness,
We work at last to pay for our health,
Like a game from the begining,
In an African uptown
I see too many mansions,
In defferent colours and shapes,
Few families of the so called v.i.p,
dwell in this community
liveing in a high luxurious lifestyle,
They Party hard,
like there is no tommrow,
Yet the salary of is gate men,
Are no where to be found,
Easy slowly,
I know some one out there is in need,
Steady slowing,
Life is not that hard,
Dont gave up,
Don't run faster than your shadow,
Don't shake hopelessly,
Cos life is not all about money,
Don't rush to belong,
Don't rush to be rich,
Don't rush to be famous,
No! don't rush, cos you will faint,
Where hope will never recognize you,
Where shadows,
just pass you by,
Without a word,
Eyes looks, but lips closed,
Life has enough to offer to all,
But for greed,
We rush,
If you honestly
you love yourself,
You got to know that,
Life is not a rush.
Fireworks around the globe
Each a brilliant display
Marking end of one calendar,
Another New Years Day
Will this be the year
the rich decide to give
A little of what they have
To help the poor to live
Fill the empty mansions
relieve the constant stres
For least some those on
The streets and homeless
Will tax avoidance reduce
As they decide it’s only fair
The super rich contribute
Their proportionate share
Voluntarily decide to
Do their good deed
So less may exist
In poverty and need.
The world settles down
To a stable lasting peace
As across the whole globe
All conflicts finally cease
The hawk defeated
By the dove
As dreamers dream
And lovers love
Will it also be the year
Pigs, unaided, learn to fly
Politicians rule without
The need to cheat and lie
No I suspect that things
Will stay just the same
More losers than winners in
The fight for survival game
Stalker of my heart;
Killer of the good in me;
You slay the innocent sheep,
And lead the lost into thy ways;
You take the blind by the arm,
And have them follow behind you,
Into your mansions that glitter;
With diamonds and darkness;
Thy tongue is coated with sweet lies,
That woe the betrothed to fall into your traps;
Your hands of steel do steal the redeemed
And drag them with you into the cup of wrath,
That the king himself has promised you,
To partake of,in the angel's message
Man of earth,ruler of earth,
That was created by God,
Spare me your captivity.
I know you desire my soul,
Yet I yearn to be in my Lord's presence
As I shall keep eyes fixed to the cross.
Though you hunt me down like a lion,
You will not take grip of me,
For the Lord shields me over,
And holds me in his embrace!
They built their homes of crystal praise,
Then sold us bricks of shame.
Each window gleamed with spotless haze,
While every neighbor took the blame.
The mayor preached of modest needs
From a throne of imported gold.
He watered plastic virtue seeds
And called the harvest brave and bold.
The gossip queen wore angel wings,
White feathers pinned with spite.
She blessed the town with wholesome things,
Then sharpened rumors every night.
The preacher cursed the gamblers' vice,
His sermon fierce and loud.
Yet counted silver twice and thrice
Behind a curtain, safe from crowd.
We watched them hurl their polished stones,
A sport the righteous love.
The glass sang back in cracking tones
Like judgment from above.
By dawn, their mansions sparkled less,
The fractures plain to see.
For every saint who plays at perfection
Leaves fingerprints on hypocrisy.
Huddled under the Northern Michigan
Umbrellas
Popped open
With cherry bows of pink blossoms
Is our little family cabin
Not so much
Made of brown brick and mortar
Glued pounded and squared together
In the 1950s
But placed on a slab of summer sun
Face up
Shining on the tiffany tiles of Torch Lake
Built of stacked bunk beds
Ten of them
Hammered together with dad’s hands
Oiled with homemade lemonade
Poured by mom
To our baby bird mouths
Through the windows framed with leftover straw
Yes, the screen door still creaks on its rusty spring
Like a dorky doorbell from Father Knows Best
I can feel our newer neighbors salivating
With plans to expand their estates
From an upcoming fire sale
Every year they ask
How’s your mom and dad?
I douse their speculations with a quick “Great!”
But I know
And they know
Time is not on their side
I suppose we could sell to Chicago millionaires
Right now
Cash out
Like all the other generations around us
Replaced with vanity mansions of 30 or more barren rooms
And their manicured lawns poisoned with fertilizer
Dimming the lake each year to a darker shadow
Of itself
But I love our red wheelbarrow
And the cobwebs of the Milky Way
Swaying in the dusty corners
The rusty nails of our fights and screams
And wrestled nights with no air conditioning
I get up in the morning
Step over the fierce glare of sunrise
And the carnage of my folks
My brother and sister
And all those barracks of snoring kids
We will hold out
And hold on
To this sliver of light and water
If you don’t mind
Please
To wait a bit longer
Until we’ve completely and utterly finished
And then all this can be yours.
The abandoned Mansion was once owned by the Adams Family.
They were doing a terrific business in their lumberyard at the time.
Day laborers who were not busy were sent over to build their home.
It was gorgeous in its heyday, lovelier than anything else on the block.
There were other ritzy mansions, said my auntie, just not this ritzy.
We stared at the old abandoned Mansion; she looked sad.
Her grass had no roses or lilies, her concrete flower pots were broken.
What a shame, I said. Can we get closer? I want to take a better look.
You cannot go inside, Auntie said, but I think we can peek into windows.
I jumped back and screamed when I reached the window.
There is someone in there! She put her hand out and touched mine.
Two of my little cousins began shrieking in terror.
She made that up, Auntie said. She was trying to scare you.
I know what I had seen, and I was not making anything up.
I never went back, but sometimes I drive by and cringe.
That house is not abandoned.
I was supposed to be queen of something by now.
Or king or czar or at least mayor.
Ruling people in such a way that they fawn over me.
I was supposed to be on magazine covers.
With the prettiest face, and the body we all want.
My dainty ankle recognized immediately as I step out of a limo.
I was supposed to have six mansions, and eight swimming pools.
I would decorate them in reds, purples, silvers, greens and yellows.
One of them would be entirely done in orange though, my favorite color.
I was supposed to have won the lottery, and had the ticker tape parade.
People in foreign countries would ask me for my autograph,
for I would not be revered only in one country.
I was supposed to have the happily ever after prince, and the white horse.
My face was supposed to be carved on Mount Rushmore.
What the heck happened?
An ardent longing for the finer things ...
Vodka from eggs - bedrooms with wings.
Bugatti's and coffees topped with gold,
Armani, Brioni, and true absinthe, old.
Bottega Veneta or a Lanvin wool coat,
Yachts that are really just mansions that float.
Valets and limos and luxe high-rise suites,
Beds dressed in D. Porthault Jours de Paris sheets.
Bluefin sashimi, Kopi Luwak,
Yubari Melon, and real Dark To'ak.
Matsutake Mushrooms, Wagyu Beef,
South Devon Crab with fresh saffron leaf.
Almas Caviar, Bonnotte Potatoes,
White Alba Truffles, Canarian Tomatoes.
Heligan Pineapple, Densuke Black
Watermelon, sweet. In pocket, a stack.
Milan designed leather shoes and gloves -
Oh, I'm cursed, eternal, with such lavish loves!
So what is the claim, if extravagance deems?
I hope for tomorrow, and believe in my dreams.
For naught yet compares to my imaginings' wealth,
All the money on earth can't buy my good health.
So I dream, but I'm happy with all I've been blessed,
And MAYBE, in time ... fate will see to the rest.
Jesus taught the world
to become fishers of men
to collect Gods tithe
to overcome poverty
Yet men taught themselves
to steal Gods money
and spend it on themselves
take a look
at the houses brought
by the leaders of the church
where once they have your money
they build mansions of self greed
they read your bible
and preach we need money
for the poor
we need to help those in need
and yet your money lines their pockets
God never said build mansions
God said Treat your neighbour as yourself
is one of the most important rules of the bible
Where is the church when you need help
granted they offer food donations
but food donations come from other people
granted they provide the organisation
but yet the gravy of wealth is taken
by the leaders of the Church
do they invest Gods money
to build jobs and overcome poverty
do they create wealth with Gods money
to help people involved in car accidents
did they knock at your door
to offer you a job when you were unemployed
did they provide free education
to help you climb out of poverty
or did they provide expensive education
to once again line their own pockets
Why should Minister
have only the one job
granted on a Saturday or Sunday
the people need to hear the word of God
yet they could work
to satisfy their own needs
during the week
I am not God
But I would be worried
if I believed in the bible
Jesus was asked by the Hebrews
who should we pay God or Ceasor
He replied give unto Ceasor what is Ceasors
Give unto God what is Gods
The tithe belongs to God
You build your mansions with his money
You believe that in doing the job
of bringing people to God
you fulfil his request in the parable
of the talents
I hope, for your sake,
you are right
because if you a wrong
he said to the one that buried his money
I can be, a hard and cruel master
and all the servant did was bury the money
how much worse will it be
When you find God does exist
and he stands there asking you
what have you done with my money
did you use it to overcome poverty
did you use it to help the people in need
did you create my kingdom
invest my money
did you create free health systems
So poor people could get medication
so children can have eyesight problems fixed
so people didn't suffer
what did you do with my tithe?