Long Mentor Poems
Long Mentor Poems. Below are the most popular long Mentor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mentor poems by poem length and keyword.
Am I really the only one thinking outside the box,
When it comes to pension costs,
Regardless of whether people are able to work or not,
With some working til they drop.
Let me open my box and tell you how to stop the rot,
In my box is all the evidence that points to the life experience,
That those who are for a pension now due can bring to the table,
Along with the math's calculations that says how much they can give back,
If we ask their help,
To mentor the young and keep them out of jail,
To share a lifetime of knowledge that we may need if the internet breaks,
So, we don't end up back in the stone age.
To help on their good days or even good hours to reduce the rubbish pile,
That is costing us more every minute to manage,
Then there the hidden costs they can help us with,
When you start thinking out of the box,
Like, the longer we employ them when they are incapable,
Of doing their job there is a cost,
Or the fact that increasing their age of retirement,
We delay the intake of the young,
And if the age of retirement keeps going up,
The number of those unemployed for life goes up,
A cost that would burden us for generations to come.
Then there are the facts about the health problems,
With older people in workplaces,
Bladder issues,
Skin that is less resistant to knocks,
To name but two which will leave businesses no choice,
But to raise prices.
Another thought I came up with while thinking out of the box,
Is that to get the best out of the old work wise,
We should be looking at retirement as a gradual process,
With flexibility for gradually reducing a persons work hours,
And shifting them to light duties, including mentoring roles,
According to their individual health and abilities to do their job,
This should create opportunities for more young people to
Enter the workforce.
Then still thinking outside the box there is the mental wellbeing of
The aged which effects their physical health which impacts,
The overall rate of spending on health.
The more useful and less anxious people of any age feel,
Is a win in terms of real dollars saved.
If we can get more people thinking out of the box on this issue,
We will find it is not an issue at all,
Once the number crunchers see the new evidence,
That was sitting outside their box,
Who knows they might be tempted to think outside the box themselves.
“Jealousy”
Jimmy had odds to beat, one he was a black teen and the temptations of big city’s Streets.
But a single black mother’s determination held his attention sternly,
So he had only Minimal interaction with streets.
He had rickets but Jimmy could catch any ball.
He ran with a gang that like to brawl,
Then he entered a Youth Center where a Mentor introduced him to football.
Pop Warner he’s leader of the team,
Onto High School Football team as runner for TD’s.
Scouts without doubts offered degrees.
Mother’s pleased when he goes to USC, to be toast of the university.
Jimmy rode football like a Hell’s Angel rides his hog.
He played halfback, fullback carrying the ball.
Top backers called, packs of women clawed,
Because for a rental car he ran through a mall.
Sydney was a naive Germany beauty queen,
Blond haired eyes emerald green.
Done nothing much since she jumped with the school cheer team.
But she had dreams, being famous on T.V., a celebrity.
But she’s stalled in the Pokipsy Mall,
Serving chili, hamburgers and hotdogs.
When in comes Jimmy, walking tall, followed by his enthralled.
Each sees the other and head over heels each falls.
Their love, sweet, she felt entitled to be,
With the famous Jimmy.
After their affair they married, two heirs, beach house on Bundy Street,
Her face on T.V. with Jimmy, her dream is complete.
But Jimmy believes in slavery,
Believes possessions are bounty one forever keeps,
And Sydney is his property.
But black eye secrets don’t keep,
So she and her parents agree, divorce Jimmy immediately.
Jimmy falls, fell by divorce when the gavel falls.
But most of all,
He felt affronted by the German goofball in front of media tell-all,
So he watches her like a hawk, to see with whom she walks.
She saw a new fella who won her heart and Sydney falls.
He wines and dines her many times and shows respect to all.
So Jimmy waits, pissed off jealousy he has no date, until one night on her Ronald calls.
Greens seethe engulfs Jimmy from head to feet, it shuts off reasoning.
Disrespect for “The Great ME” is all he sees in this rivalry for his property.
He sees she succeeds with this non-minority.
To the door during their adoring greeting Jealousy creeps,
Like Flash he slash the throat of the one he knows,
Then at speed stabs repeatedly the one she greets,
As he tries to flee from Jealousy.
“The Shedding of our Skin”
I am writing about the transition from lost now found,
Darkness to light, one being into another, death to life,
Old skin to new skin.
Its like the rejuvenation of skin
The restoring of flesh over flesh of an open wound
And that does not happen all at once but over a duration of time.
Little by little not specific, but unpredictable start to finish.
My skin was tough, tough as leather
It had to be broken in, sat and stomped on over time
It was miss-used, abused
Unappreciated, contaminated and unpurified with uncleanliness toxic substances, people, places and things.
Miss-guided with ill desires and will
But by grace my transformation had begun
Before it was to late there was a death to life ending activated
In my darkest space, In my mess
The shedding of my skin had begun
There was a shift in my ways my desires my walk and talk
My mind and heart had started to align up with the whispers of Gods divine word.
My old skin of the one-track roads, addictions, attitudes and desires.
I no longer craved or desired
My mouth was filled with affirming empowerment for myself and others.
I was able to articulate the things I felt, thought, wanted, and needed, liked and disliked.
Speaking fluent in the moments with no more hesitation or reluctancy holding my words or fear.
I am shedding my broken past of my childhood strongholds and obstacles.
Letting go of my resentments and anything that has kept me in chains.
I’ve moved from complacency to contentment with a peace and understanding I cant explain.
Compelled to be of service and good works with a drive of passion energy and love.
I AM SHEDDING
No longer stagnant in my engrafted past
Now free and flying through the fog, trauma and strongholds that once hindered me and my growth in so many ways.
Today my mind is renewed with thoughts and visions of life and light.
My new skin enables me to persevere on in faith and hope.
Trusting and dreaming of an abundant life sober and free
To properly handle and face life gratefully
Overcoming any of its obstacles that may come up against me
I am shedding with new profound revelations and abilities
My shedding has provided me with a variety of new talents and gifts.
Something that my old skin would have never allowed....
Continuing to shed “The Shedding of my Skin”
in order to get back to Eden to live on top of the world
there are a few things from God which need to be heard
here in America in the democratic land of milk and honey
African-Americans are disproportionate when it comes to power and money
our healthcare is poorer, our finances worse, few of us in seats of power
at the bottom of most demographic indicators and our circumstances diminish by the hour
the most unemployed, the most discriminated, the first to be laid-off or dismissed
more of us in jail, a lot of us illiterate, there are too many problems for me to list
fewer marketable skills, fewest high school diplomas and don't mention college degrees
African-American men in America need to take off their blinders and see
to those who stand behind stained-glass windows and look down on those who have less
you need to take your brothers back to Eden and put an end to all this mess
you might not comprehend their reality but you should attempt to understand
that as true servants of God you should help your fellow man
if you consider yourself to be a true disciple of Christ
what have you done to enrich someone else's life?
who did you clothe? who did you feed?
who did you minister to in their time of need?
who did you mentor to on how to be a man?
who did you talk to or stretch out your hand?
there's a lot of work that needs to be done to get our brothers inspired
we need to help them build a relationship with God and do as Jesus aspired
in order to get back to Eden we need to start at the very beginning
with the basic instructions that God is recommending
to fellowship with your fellow man
to develop a trust opposite to slavery's plan
to communicate with positivity
to no longer promote negativity
to pull up your pants and walk like a man
to be productive and not destructive
to be supportive and not abortive
to act like someone's father and not like you're being bothered
to teach our brothers to put down the guns and take up the cross
so they will no longer act like thugs but to think like a boss
no longer will we be divided with jealous envy
now united as brothers under God's authority
getting back to Eden to be on top of the world
to living our lives according to God's Holy word
to get back to Eden and up from the basement of life
living on top of the world as brothers with our savior Jesus Christ
Life does not necessarily mature into timeless love,
just as yeast is not the entire evolutionary journey for bread,
and the Way may be part of, but not the entirety of,
the Beloved Community.
It is so interesting, for a nondualist at least,
that a profoundly radical Jewish teacher
would say He is the yeast
while We are the embodied bread;
He is the Way,
yet We are the Kingdoms and QueenEarth Shabbats at hand.
Then the men turn it around,
get it all dualistically, cause-effect backwards,
while the women probably knew this Messianic mentor
as bootstrapping our evolutionary fulfilling birthing process
of incoming and oncoming and ongoing cooperative co-messianism.
The patriarchs,
with theo-means not-ecological words in hand,
were too invested in their post-revolutionary need to distance themselves
from the then-powerful elitist threat of Judaic cultural power,
at least by comparison with their post-revolutionary
dualist-fundamentalist Either/Or departure
into before-Christ/after-Christ messianism-already-fulfilled
by the One
who taught himself as the intentional mentoring leaven,
and not the entire cooperative organic co-salvific loaf;
as the only Way He could speak of and for,
but not our entire EarthTribe Garden
of cooperative ecotherapeutic
co-redemptive messianism at hand.
Too bad the wives and mothers,
the nondualist gatherers and not so much the dualist hunters,
didn't have the education,
or perhaps even the verbal communication skills,
to write down their creolizing nondualist fulfillment narratives
of cooperative nurture,
to recall and cast a nondualist Messiah
who did not come to kill YHWH's Chosen People,
or His own culture,
the regenerative history flowing through his humane-divining
mindbody,
but to leaven with these Elders,
those who had no ecopolitical Win/Lose self-centered elitist hypocrisies
like the Pharisees and Sadduccees,
those who were not over-invested in the competitive change of Caesar's coin
from useful for cooperative consuming health
into iconic value-only for producing disembodied hoards of wealth,
and to leaven within us
as one continuously multiculturing
multigenerational
nondualistic-BothJewish/AndChristian
organic creolizing mindbody
of regenerative intention
and vast ecopolitically radical compassion;
like yeast evolving divinely humane bread.
I slash with my sword and I push with my shoulder. Every muscle and every tendon is screaming in agony. I can feel every pressure when my blade makes contact. I’m grunting with passion as I push every extremity to the very breaking point. I let my mind wonder to the past, where my family was butchered and mutilated when I was 10 years old. I lost everything I loved and anything that mattered to me, but my passion. Revenge echoes in my mind over and over, like the rumbling of thunder in the summer storms when they pass. Revenge against those who could do the things I’ve seen, beasts that slaughtered my whole family. I have spent years here, learning the warrior’s way, feeling the grunge and toils from everyday training.
My sword is now a part of my body, so swift and true. I can draw it sharply and silent to bring it up my enemy. I spin my body and crouch down low, dodging my enemy and thrusting my sword into his chest. My body has become one single weapon for me to use. My mind is sharp and ready for the challenges of all those who oppose me. I will fight for honor and what is right and damnation to those who are evil and selfish. In the distance a voice echoes in my ears, “Piiid!” “Pid!” This sound grows louder as I strain my muscles and sharpen my skills. “PIIIDDD!!!” “HAULT!” and then I realize that master Baracus has been calling me. Turning around, I see Baracus standing there with a puzzled look on his face. He is a tall elder man with a chiseled chin and scars across both cheeks. His skin tone is deep red from the Sun’s scorching heat of the day. His balding head has traces of white hair around each side and the tunic of a trainer is all black with gold trim. His deep blue eyes gaze upon me in frustration, “You must focus on all things around you Pid, you will leave yourself open to attack without it”.
Baracus turns to walk towards the shelter as he mumbles various curses at me. “You young bucks have no attention and focus” as he slowly walks to sit down. “I was focused on my training you old goat” I persist. As we both sit down, he makes his brittle response, “Damn young blood makes poor fertilizer for our fields” as we both bellow with laughter. He is my mentor and trainer, but most of all he took me in and called me his son. He has trained me in the way of the warrior and what it means to be honorable and noble.
Horoscopes defy what the mind already knows
Sagittarius categorized, Catholically inclined
Religion forces Signed eyes to reconsider deliverance
Archer status on the dance floor
Lips poised clothing crunk'd
High heels dipped in ghetto couture
Street loved, Sirens seem to posess me with Hip-Hop streaming
Cold blue steel pressed against my thigh
He makes me forget Good Girl analogies
Marxist ideologies and paying the water bill
Electric cars and global warming
Catholic tendencies clash with knee-jerk leftist remarks
Minorities have a propensity to be Democratically oriented
Shall I take it to the highest point of disregard
And let Disneyland dreams give way to worldly needs
Oh God
May we philosophize before his muscles take me over
Smiles reconcile what was once sober
Drunk off uncertainty
"I live for the moment" lies
We all need a little healing
I forget my repented chants to forgive sins
The more educated I become the harder it is to blindly believe
Faith is a tired charade that I must play
Center stage, bright eye'd and readily paid
I believe but must I rely on what the homily says
The bank notes the eagerness in charity of diluted masses
I trust in the Lord
Everyone needs a mentor
To relinquish safety in the face of uncertainty
Is something revolutionary
Am I to fall in love with guilt as my ancestors before me
Will Jesus still love me if i'm not sorry for smiling
I'm not sorry at all for being
Lividly in love with living
But was it T.S Elliot who was so declined to meet
The basic devotion in his poetry
Or was it me who denies faith everlastingly
I'm already twisted with these bottles of opiated, over the counter conviction
Priests who color me darker then I was before I dipped my hand
Into sanctified waters
Questions procede answers that are left for dying
The Vatican with daily mantras force me to facilitate fate
Is this the right religion for me
Why isn't faith enough, destiny binds me to unforgiving roots
Relatives in Zoot-suits trying to mix it up
The fine lines between being revolutionary and being impious
Are fading so slightly from the clear cut minds
Or is it mine whose mind is cut from something similar to sacrilede profanity
Surely we shall see
With prayer in my hand
the devil at my feet
Looking at the mirror
with good day’s pleasure
I see slothfulness’ glamor
taunting with delight’s leisure
Yet ready to attack sense of honor
defying time-worth’s treasure
So defiant; not a generous donor
offering gift that costs much pressure!
I challenge you, my body’s indolent suitor
upon your procrastination’s grandeur
I’m aware of your wastefulness’ color
since programmed schedule you want to injure
I fight you for putting me in meaninglessness’ rigor
against unjustified torture
Dampening my work-ardor
by your entertainment-indulgence culture!
Face now my spiritual fervor
straightening your laziness-posture
I vanquish your terror
that’s underestimating my devotion-measure
See how I combat fruitlessness’ horror
striving for a productive future
While trusting God with His grace-anchor,
I press on by His might so sure!
Don’t shake me with doubts’ tremor;
I confront you upon truth’s nurture
You'll be overtaken by my Conqueror
… just prepare for a painful capture
Never dare me; you’re a deceitful actor
trapped inside reality’s exposure
I’m driven by the Victor
Who has mastered very well human nature!
Along my stewardship’s armor,
I smite you with discipline-censure
Having the Lord’s good favor...
I dominate over your lethargic displeasure
Upheld by His strong succor,
I subdue your destructive gesture
Trained by my champion Mentor...
I arise toward faith-performance venture!
Thus, by diligence-motor, ...
you, spirit of the sluggard, I adjure
Yield to the task-commander’s tenor
…follow work-ethics’ procedure
Escape from vanity’s galore
…be prodded to toil and endure
Girded by hardships’ candor
…stand up with zealousness-feature!
Opponent of losing savor,
Surrender your worthless seizure for healthy cure
Accept that you’re beaten by genuine labor
midst your impatience-tenure
I thank my Savior for righteous valor
making me win on persistence juncture
Guided constantly by the Director,
I persist in His triumphant service-business* pasture!
Personification with rhyme form
*Romans 12:11 Not slothful in business; fervent in spirit; serving the Lord.
April 7, 2019
Edited on May 13, 2020
5th place, "Shutter Speed" Premier Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kai Michael Neumann; judged on 5/18/2020.
love in the eye of a perfect stranger
must we keep on in weakness
how long will it take us
to weak up
are we not done yet
in this pit of poverty
must we be always
the same
I thought we have our
destinies in our hands
I thought we are the
owners of our mind
so how much more
will we keep excepting
love in the eye of a perfect stranger
love in the eye of a perfect stranger
we fight each other
we are not in love with each other
we fail to unite oh africa
while we keep hoping
for the perfect stranger
to come take our problems
away
we refuse to believe in ourselves
yet we need each other
we reject to build each other
yet we are strongly building
the home of the perfect stranger
who is busy hunting on us
what a pity what a love
we are so in love
in love with the
love in the eye of the perfect stranger
love in the eye of a perfect stranger
we are so in love with this strangers
they have brought us a lot
fights for justice
they have abused our dignity
enslave our own
devalued our ancestors
stole our treasure
destroyed our culture
imposed their ways opinion
civilization on our life's
still we remain blind
instead we are busy
loving the stranger
we changed our spiritual
life's for no good
what a love
we are so in love
in love with the
love in the eye of a perfect stranger
love in the eye of a perfect stranger
our women are our prides
yet our streets are full
of helpless girls
abused raped
by this strangers
a perfect stranger
indeed
our women are to be protected
cos out there this strangers
are wild
wilder than our welcomes
they are the devils we cast
in our prayers
they are friend to those
who oppress our freedom
they are the mentor of our
grieves
they are no good friends
what a perfect stranger
yet we are still busy in love
in love with the
love in the eye of a perfect stranger
love in the eye of a perfect stranger
always at first
this strangers always
comes to us with a perfect
smile and with an eyes
full with love
their words are so comforting
so much sweet words
fall from their lips of lies
they always have a gift
neither do we know
it was an exchange
what a stranger
a perfect stranger
yet we fall in love
in love with the
love in the eye of a perfect stranger
My classroom has a pet crocodile
A protector of the class
he's a hunter of bass
And a gentleman scholar
He cares about your grades.
invests in the arts, attends school plays
and greets the students everyday
he’s a mainstay...
he plays a lot of roles,
wears a lot of hats
fills holes in education and
plugs gaps
On a single day
he may play ...
the role of mentor, hype guy, and father figure
The kids show him respect and call him Mister
But he was always happy with Gilbert
Everyday a student has a crisis
It doesn’t matter if you are the meanest or nicest
Your lessons will be interrupted; If hes available, if he can,
Gilbert will step in to play the role Of Gentle Man
My go-to move, is leaving a crying student with a friend
If it's something they can't share,
I'll leave them with a smile,
a notebook, a pen,
a blank prompt for a letter they won't send...
Dealing with adult issues no one can mend.
An encouraging smile a gentle nod I keep it curt
I leave them with Gilbert.
I send a message to The councilor after;
Her backlog would fill you with dark laughter
But shes a master because my students feel heard
By her and Gilbert
Gilbert has Seen some
And I don't mean the pants he was shoved down.
Or the way he was swung around
So I had to insist he only bit
But he's soft and gently and the kids love him for it
And he hears things more serious…….
I think Gilbert cries when he’s alone
the messy cry where you let out a wailing moan
Where you cry so hard you forget about vanity
The kind of crying that saves your sanity
I find my car is a good place to cry
But Gilbert is a plush crocodile and cant drive
But I have to assume he cries because everyone has to have a process for letting go of the problems that aren't theirs
The projects and missions we can’t bear.
The responsibility that isn't ours to share
Sometimes, the most important thing about Gilbert, and me, is just that we’re there.
Well.
I have to teach too.
That's what they hired me to do
And I'm excited to do my job, my kids make it easy….
When I remember to appeal to their curiosity
And sometimes it's impossible not everyone loves Geography
But Gilbert and I will be there tomorrow
And the day after and next year
Because I really feel like I found a vocation, and it’s being right here