Long Michael Poems
Long Michael Poems. Below are the most popular long Michael by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Michael poems by poem length and keyword.
History has forged heroes out of peasants and their kind,
and here I am in privilege, immobilized and blind.
Living in a paradise, lethargic to my dreams,
content to think utopia on earth is what it seems ...
But existence is so fragile, and time is deathly fast,
and even if I fall before I've struggled in my past,
others are contending, with greater threats than I,
but their problems are soap bubbles, that drift off in the sky ...
Let me plant solid feet, at last in the ground!
Let me escape my airy prison of prismatic light and sound!
Let me find that there is everything, and more, for me to do!
Give me first a keen awareness, then a zeal to follow through!
Soft bubbles are illusion, my delusion, and I fear,
I have too often tarried in a place truth can't appear.
21 March 2017
Written for "Utopia and the Soap Bubble" contest, sponsored by Kai Michael Neumann
Caedmon's Hymn
by Michael R. Burch
At the monastery of Whitby,
on a day when the sun sank through the sea,
and the gulls shrieked wildly, jubilant, free,
while the wind and time blew all around,
I paced those dusk-enamored grounds
and thought I heard the steps resound
of Carroll, Stoker and good Bede
who walked there, too, their spirits freed
—perhaps by God, perhaps by need—
to write, and with each line, remember
the glorious light of Caedmon's ember,
scorched tongues of flame words still engender.
Here, as darkness falls, at last we meet.
I lay this pale garland of words at his feet.
Originally published by The Lyric. "Cædmon's Hymn," composed at the Monastery of Whitby (a North Yorkshire fishing village), is one of the oldest known poems written in the English language, dating back to around 680 A.D. According to legend, Cædmon, an illiterate Anglo-Saxon cowherd, received the gift of poetic composition from an angel; he subsequently founded a school of Christian poets. Unfortunately, only nine lines of Cædmon's verse survive, in the writings of the Venerable Bede. Whitby, tiny as it is, reappears later in the history of English literature, having been visited, in diametric contrast, by Lewis Carroll and Bram Stoker's ghoulish yet evocative Dracula. Keywords/Tags: Caedmon, hymn, angel, inspired, inspiration, inspirational, first English poem, Old English, oldest English poem, Anglo-Saxon, Bede, cowherd, Christian, monk, spiritual, god, sonnet
We must never forget that
we're human beings, above all.
We're God's children, all equal in his eyes.
We need to treat each other
with the utmost respect and dignity.
We need to learn how to peacefully co-exist.
Notwithstanding our deity of worship -
Whether you call God just that, God,
or Allah, or El-Shaddai, or Bhagwan.
Notwithstanding the language
we speak, or the accent
of our speech, domestic or foreign.
Notwithstanding our politics -
Democrat, Republican, or Independent,
or even party-free.
Notwithstanding our race -
White, Black, Hispanic, Asian; whether you
check "Other" on application forms.
Notwithstanding our religion -
Catholicism, Judaism, Hinduism, Mormonism,
Buddhism, Islam, and so on.
Notwithstanding our culture,
belief system, financial status, sexual orientation,
or how we dress. Whether we're believer or atheist.
Notwithstanding the side
of the railroad track we hail from...
We must never forget that
we're human beings, above all.
We're God's children, all equal in his eyes
We need to treat each other
with the utmost respect and dignity.
We need to learn how to peacefully co-exist.
In the final analysis, we are all equal!
Opinion Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kai Michael Neumann
Date Written: 06/23/2020
You can keep swinging in your smile
as your eyes see through the cylinder only
where the flowers radiate the scent
where the leaves wait for the rustle
of the fondling wind
where stars wait for the music
of the magical light peaks
where the blue sky waits
for the golden kite
in the cloud towers
Where the staircase raises the ears
for the sound of the footsteps
Where the mahogany branch
craves for the feet of the pair of the larks
The cylinder refuses to take
the wide angle lens
adding to the view
the greedy rats
the spilling vats
the leopard like hungry cats
the pus and pain of the flats
that our apartment is proud of
housing the autocrats
None in your tunnel
You don't battle
Against the stale apples
the de facto brothels
in the apartment in isolation
with no ventilation
You are of course better off
than those who have
the same tunnel before the eyes
Only the field of view with no dew
For them in the queue
The rapists and rape victims
The murdered and the murderer
The cheats and frauds
The figures flawed
Nothing good and well
The earth a hell
You are better off
With your cut-off
eliminating the minuses
Including only the pluses
where the thorns
aid and abet the blossoming of the rose
We like to keep disjointed
And highlight the negative knives only
Turning blind to the beehives
And the humming bee
bridging you and me
You do have the ear
corresponding with the tunnel vision
to hear and respond
and build the blueberry bond
between the flute and the music
The circles concentric
of the lyrics of life
and the drumsticks
______________________________________________
April 28, 2018
Tunnel Vision - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
I am named after my grandmother.
Christened Sarah Jane, she was known as Jeanie.
That is often the way where I come from,
that deviation from the written proclamation.
The first three of my siblings
were never called by their primary
baptismal names, after family relations.
But the second, more meaningful to my parents.
So, Michael Derek became Derek,
Martin Seaneen, Seaneen (son of Sean)
and Vivienne Teresa, Teresa. (Daddy's mother's)
The trend ended with me for some reason.
The three younger than I were also spared confusion.
Perhaps because my mother named me after her's,
and wanted to hold that connection to her heart.
To hear her name on a daily basis.
In return, I did the same for her.
She was always just Mum to us seven.
Daddy was the only one to call her name at home.
And such a lovely unusual name it is, Edna.
Although both were unimpressed with my choice initially,
I think Mum was secretly pleased.
Having grown into her name most beautifully,
my Edna has now met her Rupert.
The wedding invite will sound grand.
14/03/2019
WHAT'S IN A NAME POETRY CONTEST
for Kim Rodrigues.
You ask if I love you & I always reply the same my answer don't change
But you never believe me & forever wanna leave me, on the inside eating me up like cancer done came
For you I've turned on my own not concerned bout home, risked it all just to get you
And Issue after issue I continue to sit through
Praying that reality hit you because I can't get through
I love you to death, you don't understand what I be willing to do
I know your past hurt but when you drink & dwell on it, it be killing me too
In my mind I feel we just wasting time, no different from lovers & friends
I can't change what happened before me but in the same sense don't feel I should have to suffer for them
And that's what it is because you make me compete with your past, it's like I gotta fix they mistakes
See you shifted the weight but never found forgiveness so you never lifted the hate
Still I fight though, telling myself over and over it's just a cycle which in time I can manage & seize
But you despiteful, it's like you blame it on Michael, make me question how much I can take because in trying to fix you I'm damaging me
If just once you could see through my eyes & see what I go through
Watching as they push & pull you fighting to control you
Than I could finally show you
You at war with yourself, it's you against you, but you ain't got a clue
Not only are you acting a fool but now you acting phoney too
Treat me like I ain't done enough or don't care when my word is honest & true
Quick to pull the victim card, back drinking again gone off that Witches Brew, In a state of mind where I can't get to you
Everyday you got me fighting you for you
When in reality this relationship is a relation of 2 slowing turning into me separating from you
You ever stop & think if you put down your drink & took a step back maybe what good it would do
And acknowledge the fact that this stuff gets old & I'm ready to fold, I see my Armor starting to crack & feel my heart turning black, matter of fact if I'm to be true it ain't only you because I've been feeling lonely too....
A Letter to Mr. Keating
Your F1 visa is calling you for the last call to submit a paper
“To love that strong thou must leave ere long.”
We met there with notarization, tax return, Gre and 1099 questions
I saw you. Ruthless, unplugged and in a killer mode
You asked me with a mode in anonymity, (they served well in AI mode)
I saw you, a hybrid of Mahmoud Darwish with a tinge of Michael Nye
“Where is the beginning?” you asked.
“Did you tear the poetry page?” I asked back, the Hollywood fly over suggested that.
Otherwise you have to back calculate with retrospection
About GRE, and no, EATON will never be Gloria (Anzaldu’a)
I will never meet u
And hard core desktop hard disk will make me pay
For all those private moments where my brother
Chatted, tutored and faced American embassy
They are ruthless about north south
So only university can help me and you
Do you know?
What will be your verse for father and son?
I tried with Bangla, got fried in Jerusalem
They do not provide instant delivery.
Once purchased, you cannot take it back.
You asked “ exactly what?”
“ The holy ghost and Abrahimic faith “ , I replied.
“There is no short cut for masa corn.
They will sift, and knead and feel the pliant smooth tortilla until taco
And sustain with all your feelings inside. No more filling stations with me.”
Once benevolent, eventually the reel will be your GRE. Daytime, all day long.
Stage Fright
by Michael R. Burch
To be or not to be?
In the end Hamlet
opted for naught.
NOTE: I interpret Hamlet's famous "To be or not to be" soliloquy as a meditation on suicide. Hamlet considered death preferable to life, but agonized over "what dreams may come" in death's "undiscovered country." Hamlet hesitated to end his life because he feared what might lie beyond. Keywords/Tags: Hamlet, Shakespeare, Theater, Play, Literature, Act, Acting, Action, Exit, Farewell, Goodbye, Leaving, Stage Right, Stage Fright, Soliloquy, Suicide, Death, Undiscovered Country, Bourn, Bourne, Sleep, Sleeping, Eternal Rest, Dream, Dreams, Journey, Voyage
I was a soul born in chaos
my beginnings and consciousness infinitesimal
I have been blasted by forces
outside of my own natures call
and yet I can see the raw beginning
of a mind fluid
with the elements of the cosmos
this "life" has been an experience of
implosions , explosions , explorations
bombardment , impartment , eruption
corruption , inattention , and deliberations
my consciousness is aware of it's implications
my judgments categorize the experiences
such as a minute star is transformed
by the particles and forces
to which it is subjected
So too are we
but cosmological law
is annulled in it's full power
when in contact with chaos
I am fully cognizant of both
moral and cosmological law
I can jump off a cliff
or commit violence upon humans
I can actually pervert
the substance of cosmos where I reside
instead of planting , growing , harmonizing
refining my alignment with nature
I can poison , deform and subject
every participation to destruction
and as long as mankind's children
continue in the predator mentality
of their six thousand year experiments
of every violation of that which they should love
I am in total agreement with nature
that which is destructive to growth
needs removal , only with mankind
removal is "replacement" of ideology
a transformation of perspective and viewpoints
where the mind finds it desirable
to increase the beauty of LIFE
and not to poison it's fluid
the superlative and majestic cosmos
that our tinkering seeks to dissect
manipulate , rearrange it's manifestations
and in reflection this one thought
is of itself an infinitesimal insignificance
when standing before the face of LIFE
but it is my thought , my mind and
created by the most intensive force that
exists among mankind , LOVE of LIFE
HOPE in LIFE , and the seeking of every
manifestation of it's Glory
no man has seen God
but we at great length consider
all that we may perceive that to be ...
COPYRIGHT © 2015
C Michael Miller
PoetryofProvidence
BY
Tony Adamo (February 3, 12)
Gospel testifying soul burn’n and funk bumpn’
The chitlin circuit, funky nite clubs and low pay
JB came up with a jazzified innovation of funk laid out on a foundation of R&B, soul, innovative, revolutionary organic funk built on JB’s backwoods feel for soul power/
His new exciting funk brought dancin’ and partying back to the streets baby with his million sellers on the record charts/
With his no nonsense and take no prisoner dance steps on stage, with his throw back jack the funk is back/ with his off the music radar chillin’ technique of yellin’, screamin’, moanin’ soul funkin trance of a voice burnin up the airwaves with/ “I Feel Good” and “Papa’s got a Brand New Bag,” “Cold Sweat”
Bridge:
People get up, get up on the JB yeahhhh
He’ll have you dancin’ dancin on the good foot
James Brown workin’ his ahh sex machine
Oh Yeh, We’re gonna have a funky good time wellll
Gota get up Gota get up heyy
Gota get up now wellll
Gota get up
Gota get up
Get up wellllllll
In ’56 JB hooked up with Sid Nathan of King Records and Soul Brother #1 took shape morphing into the globetrotting suitcase full of funk tones,/ THE GODFATHER OF SOUL and later into the hardest workin’ man in show biz/
Gimme that James Brown sound rec executives were yellin’
Sly Stone, Tower of Power, Earth Wind and Fire, The Ohio Players, War,Michael Jackson, Prince, the Fatback Band, just to name a few owe their sound to James Brown
Bridge:
Gota get up gota get up
Get up get up wellll
People gota gota get up now
Hip Spoken Word from Tony Adamo's Miles of Blu CD