Long Maybe Poems
Long Maybe Poems. Below are the most popular long Maybe by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Maybe poems by poem length and keyword.
Chairman Xi Jinping you seek a new geo-strategical order
Sick of the blame game burden and fake foreign news
Like viruses internet hacking sanctions and accusations
Spew a fault line of tsunamis and earth shattering quakes
Pacific surfers’ paradise and floods of Confucian proportions
‘The envious man grows lean at the success of his neighbour’
Unless you are ignorant of razor sharp obvious double edged swords
Dragons assert to be peaceful creatures or aggressive tormenters
Paradigms shift under the influence of stark power and retaliation
Who threw the first stone anyway and was it a gem or merely a pebble
We all bleed the same red blood when we sigh our ultimate breath
Rise to challenge before everything goes up into terminal smoke
‘Before you embark on a journey of revenge dig two graves’
Its the year of the Zodiac Rat that symbolizes current affairs
Inquisitive shrewd and resourceful and of dualistic acclaim
Yin and Yang cosmic energy and universal chaos contained
In one symbol of unity and the harmony of opposite claims
A fortune cookie of crossed chopsticks wishbones and ashes
‘We should feel sorrow but not sink under its oppression’
Manifestos ideologies belligerent strides’ clashing culture
Where right turns wrong opposition becomes commitment
An eye for a blind eye slap on the cheek a take on the chin
As the red sun sets over the Blue Chinese Sea it remains to
Be seen whether defense or aggression descends into void
‘Our greatest glory is not in ever falling but in rising every time’
Maybe Humpty Dumpty needs a stepladder next time around
Chairmen Xi are you the rampart or full of nuclear con-fusion
Please stand up to my challenge and listen to my riddle and verse
11th May 2020
The lines in quotation are words attributed to Confucius
White genocide is the intention to destroy the white race, the white history, the white people.
White genocide can come in many ways, such as a lack of housing, lack of jobs, lack of love, lack of opportunities, just to mention a few.
White genocide makes me think of all the lost children from abortion and pills and other ways not known.
White genocide looks like a plan, from all the stuff around, like white studies, non-white events, putting white people at a not allowed to be on the list for stuff.
White hate is real, it is felt, it is like a way to cause depression and destroy the entire white race.
White genocide has happened before, it is written about in history, some make songs, and try to cause more and more hate on white people.
White genocide and white hate is causing a lot of fear, it can make people unable to live a life of cheer, making them live in fear of being genocide.
No one should have to live in a toxic environment, made to live in fear, or be unable to grow and thrive just because of their skin color.
Maybe a race can better thrive when they have their own area like the Native Indians, making them prioritize all their needs, we see this with animals, they are exclusive mostly, we see this with forced ways to dress, we see this in exclusive areas and their outcomes come out the same or improve their group it seems.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
As another wench fails to tie tiger’s tail, the bear is let loose again.
Honey was shared, but hearts weren’t paired, so the shark resumes his top fin.
It’s hard to regret Ethiopian whets, and the taste of turmeric sticks too.
Yet all was shut down, when he polished the crown. That fool tried to place it on you.
Fondness grew.
as the absence increased, and emoticons ceased, what was left were tendencies raw. The tendencies come in various hums, while truths stay locked behind jaws, and maybe the draws, which were scantily protected from powerhouse paws.
Hey! Let’s give this sharp dame a strong round of applause!
Let’s sing out her praises, as legions once did! Let’s spring for them braids, and let’s get them nails did!
Let’s
remain sonic, ‘cause her sway is bionic, and nature will always prevail. But prepare thee to cry, because numbers don’t lie, and the scale shows we once again failed.
The tiger’s tail, tied not by the wench, means the bear has been turned loose again.
I wake early- even before the birds,
my nightgown is thread-bare, all a tatter;
when I try to talk, I just lose my words,
my mirror reveals a frumpy oldster.
Oh, that is not me- I am beautiful,
just a silly optical illusion;
this old mirror is quite unsuitable,
a figment of my imagination.
There is an old lady in front of me,
she is ancient, white-haired and crumbling;
wait, maybe that is me- wish I could see,
oh, she is back that sweet girl summoning.
Do come sweet girl- lets go for breakfast,
now where is my lipstick and pearl necklace?
_______________________
August 26, 2016
Poetry/Sonnet/"Crazy Old Lady
Copyright Protected, ID 16-823-455-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Which Of The Four
sponsor, Sara Kendrick
Theme - old age
Seventh Place
Hey, that's me
Man, I was cute as I could be
If only I was a girl with my blue eyes and curly curls
Maybe that could've been me
Yo, that's me
Man, I was fast as I could be
If only I was a black kid that ran fast as I did
Maybe that could've been me
Ha, that's me
Man, I was funny as I could be
If only they laughed me instead of my a.d.d.
Maybe that could've been me
Yes, that's me
Man, I was smart as I could be
If only they seen the potential in me
Maybe that could've been me
Wow, that's me
Man, I was destin as I could be
I would of made a great daddy
Maybe that could've been me
Well, that's me
Man, of the man I could of been
If I only had a friend in the end
If only they had the chance to really know me
Maybe that could've been me, a happy me, a wealthy me, a better me
Maybe that could've been me
The me I was truly ment to be
Remember when we walked across the field
Leaves of autumn crunching beneath our feet
The color of the trees was what appealed
Maybe to be alone, our love complete
Those red and yellow leaves seen were replete
Holding hands in anticipation then
Once behind the growth hidden in the glen
Your kiss 'pon my lips set dogwoods ablaze
Long as memory holds visit again
When autumn's angular sun shines its rays
Contest: Dizain Poetry
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Date: October 28, 2022
Checked with syllablecounter.net
Checked with Grammar checker on this site
Theme: Nature combined with human nature
glen-noun- valley
replete-verb-completely fill
Hospitalization.
The food is bland.
That was the first night.
Beds are aligned.
Like,
A row of cats, all watching.
My roommate told me about her.
We have bars on the windows.
That’s what makes it feel…
Maybe a little haunted.
Rows of bars, and counting.
They don’t give us pencils or pens.
Dangerous, dangerous things.
Hospitalization…whisper…they…
A hallucination stumbles by.
Usually, they are graceful.
Almost friendly.
Tonight, he groans.
I know he is a man.
Hospitalization.
I go inward.
I’m in my bed, and that’s all.
Maybe, it’s me that is haunted.
I ask her about it.
She can’t talk.
Maybe it’s me.
She groans too.
They all do, sometimes.
Hospitalization.
It’s just me, and all the people in here.
She’s picking me up tomorrow.
She is.
If I don’t scream, they will let me leave.
I think I used to have a roommate.
She was weird.
She talked sometimes.
Sometimes not.
She was almost friendly.
When I walk out the door.
I decide not to tell my mom about my roommate.
That’s what hospitals do to you.
It's like I'm in a cave,
pitch black
with the echoes of each footstep reverberating across the walls,
sounding like a thousand footsteps,
all behind me
where am I,
am I lost?
They say so long as you hold on,
but it's cold
so cold
and the blackness surrounds me,
swallowing me whole
it would be so easy
to just rest for a while
here, beside the cavern walls,
I'll close my eyes and resign myself,
maybe it's just night,
and maybe if I look up I'll see the stars,
I've always wanted to see the stars,
wherever you may be,
we'll find eachother
and the stars won't shine in the cave tonight,
so I'll go on carrying out this fight,
I don't care where I'm going,
so long as it feels right,
I touch my hand against the wall,
jagged and sharp I feel it's call,
the cave wants to swallow me,
and spit me out anew,
gleefully I cheer the scene,
of certain death, no retreat
but lately it's been haunting me,
what can I still do
follow the walls of caverns tall,
and long and large and lonley,
deeper down below,
I may still go,
but hope's my one and only,
and questions and doubt,
I must cast them out,
to proceed is what I need,
The cave calls for me to fall,
but stars I'll chase
in this endless race
to be free from this blackness
surrounding me,
suffocating me,
slow
You are like listening to a song for the very first time,
Knowing it is the one you will play on repeat;
Savoring every second you hear it,
Making sure to internalize each beat.
You would have never heard of such a sweet tune,
The rhythm of your breathing;
A soft and steady croon.
I traced your melody as though it was written for me,
A song I began to rely on;
I would run to you amidst any chaos,
Praying you would never be gone.
You thought I would get tired of this song,
That eventually the sound would fade;
But I memorized each and every lyric,
Every promise the music made.
Although every time the music ends,
There is silence where it used to be;
The quiet somehow louder now,
Then any note it used to be.
And maybe the melody did not leave,
Because it wanted someone new;
It really was just there to remind you,
How much love you can have for a tune.
rolling horizons season
holding life beyond what we see
when winter hangs in bare trees
silver branches bedding down in a hangover of lost green
beyond city limits, forests fall into slumber
waiting for a seasonal flip to loosen the grip of cold
huff and puffed winds cocooning one to a protective box
the hold of a robust time that loves its own white ruin
in this air of frigid authority, my life of reading to snoozing
a peaceful indifference like the weightlessness of wooing
free of complications
I have a soft spot for thoughts that drift to the mundane
like a lost mitten in the snow
maybe I'll keep the bedroom door shut and locked
till a warming April sun knocks its intrusion
slicing open a greener terrain
a garden that asks for seeding
for now, in these darkening days
shadows, like mob rule, carry their own power
readying slumber
folded in the margins of my book
its script of possibilities