Long Minor Poems
Long Minor Poems. Below are the most popular long Minor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Minor poems by poem length and keyword.
Once there was a famous king,
More famous than Ozymandias.
His name was King Wolf.
Sultan was his nickname.
He called himself a benevolent despot;
And his style of government
A ‘democratic dictatorship.’
He spoke good English—
A foreign language, though;
Only a minor problem with 'l' and 'r':
Once, for instance, a reporter asked him,
"What about elections, Your Majesty?"
His response:
"Why, I have them everyday!"
The poor reporter was thoroughly confused.
His kingdom was a land of superlatives:
The oldest civilization,
The largest standing army,
The largest population,
The largest exporter—of people,
The largest emitter of carbon dioxide,
Now the second largest exporter of goods, too,
And will soon be the largest.
Since his was the most populous kingdom,
Demography was his obsession,
Which he called his specialization.
Of course, Sultan had tried his best
To check population growth—
By means of family planning.
It didn't work.
So he curbed people’s Right to have children.
But still there was a huge difference
Between the optimum number
And ground reality!
Therefore, Sultan hatched a wonderful plan:
Started a war with a friendly neighbour.
Every section of twenty soldiers in his army
Had just one primitive rifle between them:
If a soldier went on,
He would be shot.
If he went back,
Again, he would be shot.
A Catch-22!
Many of his men were slaughtered.
But still Sultan won—by sheer numbers!
Oh, God!
But the King did not believe in God.
Like king, like people!
But the dead soldiers were only a small number.
So, now another plan:
Government is the boss.
Let people overwork.
Sultan cracked the whip.
And a number of people died—
Of overwork, year after year.
Further reduction in population.
Production increased:
Cheap goods flooded the world market:
From PCs to push-up bras.
No warranty.
The economy boomed.
Ah, his kingdom became a Big Power!
But once some workers gathered
In the Capital and protested—
Against exploitation.
The name of Karl Marx was in the air.
“Listen,” Sultan roared, “Marx died—
Long ago.
So should you—now,
For raising his name in vain.”
So, still further reduction in population!
Now, when this narrative ended,
Sultan was busy, planning for another war.
Poor soul!
How else could he solve the problem—
Of overpopulation?!
***
Don Pardo: Born: 1918-02-22 - Died: 2014-08-18
He’s been gone from SNL
We heard he wasn’t feeling all that well
Don Pardo’s number came around
The Lord was calling “Come on down”
Lauren Bacall: Born: 1924-09-16 - Died: 2014-08-12
Finally the sound Bacall longed to hear
I guess Bogie learned how to whistle this year
Robin Williams: Born:1951-7-21-Died: 2014-8-11
Robin you kept us in stitches
Of comic minds yours had the riches
If your mind had a filter
It was always off kilter
Your death was the greatest of glitches
Richard Kiel: Born: 1939-8-13-Died: 2014-8-10
Richard Kiel was the great villain Jaws
A man with a few minor flaws
He stood seven foot two
And you knew, you just knew
As a bad guy he’d win our applause
James Garner: Born:1928/4/7 - Died: 2014/7/19
We watched him in The Rockford Files
Victor Victoria brought us all smiles
And the great Maverick, Bret
Who could ever forget
James Garner was nothing but style
Johnny Winter: Born:944/2/23- Died: 2014/7/16
Johnny Winter, as thin as a splinter
And white as the fallen snow
He kept us amused
As he played the blues
Till it was his time to go
Tommy Ramone:Born:1949/1/29 Died: 2014/7/11
Tommy Ramone didn’t play the trombone
But he was a drummer of note
He played with his brothers
And never no others
For Hall of Fame, he got my vote
Casey Kasem: Born:1932/4/27 Died: 2014/6/15
Casey Kasem they treated you wrong
Stole your body, we looked, it was gone
Fighting for your estate
Until you were “the late”
Your passing would make a sad song
Ruby Dee: Born: 1922-10-27 - Died: 2014-06-11
Ruby Dee how can it be
An actress of your worth
With awards galore
You should have won more
Before you were yanked from this earth
Ann B. Davis: Born:1926/5/5-Died: 2014/6/1
Here's the story of a lovely lady
Who always played a great supporting soul.
Schultzy with the late great Robert Cummings
In the Brady bunch, old Alice was her role.
Till the one day when the lady met her maker
And we knew it was much more than a cold,
Ann B. Davis’s career has finally ended
And that makes some of us feel too damn old
Bob Hoskins: Born: 1942/10/26-Died:2014/4/29
Bob was an actor, a man with a face
That only a mother’s love could embrace
And in spite of that face, he became a great star
Bob Hoskins we’ll miss you wherever you are
1.618 :
Number of Golden Ratio, mystery of Kaaba, Miracle of Islam and Koran, it is the high time for Divine Secrets, Divine Mysteries. Soon on display!
In a little while, you will see scientific proofs of unbelievable mysteries that have remained hidden in the Holy City of Mecca for thousand of years with your own eyes. Mecca is willed as direction of kowtow, convention place for billions of Muslims and as the holy center of Islam. Those Muslims, who can afford, are prescribed to arrive go on a journey through Kaaba, Muzdelife and Arafat and to convene in the sacred city.
Phi Constant- 1.618, superior design number of mathematics. The Creator has always used the very same number in numerous events in the universe; in our heart pulses, the aspect ratio of DNA spiral, in the special design of the universe called dodecehadron, in the leaf array rules of plants called phylotaxy, in the snow flake crystals, in the spiral structure of numerous galaxies. The Creator used the same number; the number of golden ratio which is 1.618…
As a result of his 25 years long study, aesthetician Dr. Steven Markout proves that each of human faces and bodies, created pursuant to this ratio, are completely beautiful. If the relative ratio is 1.618 for the components of any structure, then this form will be convenient to Golden Ratio, the perfect design.
So, where is the Golden Ratio Point of the World?
The proportion of distance between Mecca and North Pole to the distance between Mecca and South Pole is exactly 1.618 which is the golden mean. Moreover, the proportion of the distance between South Pole and Mecca to the distance between both poles is again 1.618.
The miracle has not been completed yet; The Golden Ratio Point of the World is in Mecca city according to map of latitude and longitude which is the common determinant of mankind for location.
The proportion of eastern distance to the western distance of Mecca’s solstice line is again 1.618. Moreover, the proportion of the distance from Mecca to the solstice line from the west side and perimeter of world at that latitude is also surprisingly equal to the golden ratio, 1.618. The Golden Ratio Point of the World is always within the city borders of Mecca, within the Holy Region that includes Kaaba according to all mapping systems despite minor kilometrical variations in their estimations.
Each year we drive to the south of Spain to soak up the sun's warm rays
But we like to maintain a leisurely pace, so it takes us two full days
Which means we stay at Hotel-and-Go, that sadly has one minor flaw
It's hidden away and finding the place each year is a bit of a chore
So this time I went into Google maps and zoomed in to the nth degree
The coordinates set, I was happy to let the sat nav find it for me
"You have reached your destination" the confident voice rang out
"No we flippin’ haven't" I cried "We're in the middle of a roundabout"
Ahead in the dark was a restaurant, so I went in to seek their advice
As to where the hotel was located, the directions were very precise
Turn to the left then left again then follow the road to the right
Go under a bridge, cross two roundabouts and the hotel will come into sight
We turned to the left, then left again and the road became a dirt track
We skidded and squealed with mud on the wheels with no way to reverse or turn back
We reached the hotel tired and irate, vowing never to come back again
I brought up the suitcase then a buzzing began, which was going to drive us insane
The noise came out of a grill, and although to heights I’m averse
I climbed on a chair and took it apart and succeeded in making it worse
The receptionist had nowhere to move us, but I wasn’t prepared to back down
So, fair play to her, she came up to the room to confront the irritant sound
"I'll find you another room", she said "You can’t stay in here tonight"
And so in the end she became my best friend, I could hardly contain my delight
I collected my kit and caboodle, pulled the case away from the wall
And the room immediately fell silent, not a trace of the buzzing at all
The noise had come out from the suitcase, hard to believe but true
My battery shaver had turned itself on and the sound was vibrating through
It was amplified by the hollow stud wall to emerge from the grill overhead
So the cause of the noise I had misdiagnosed creating confusion instead
I went down to the desk at reception to confess to the girl my ‘faux pas’
"Guess what, you’ll never believe it, the buzzing stopped, I know its bizarre”
So these days I’ll choose a hotel, that’s easy to find and what's more
I take out the batteries from every device and lay the case on the floor
Just say no and stop the liberal progressive socialist agenda dividing our country, or any other country! Simply based on the CRT (Critical Race Theory)!
It will further divide the divided states of America based upon race. Resulting in our categorizing and restricting any positive and healthful relationships based upon our skin colors. Turning us into enemies!
It will really pit the brown and the black people against the yellow and the white people! Leading up to and resulting in more racial based wars on the streets of our major and later on minor cities across the forty eight states of America just for starters!
It is the elected school board members that are fostering the CRT! Plus they are sponsoring X-rated books as part of the school curriculum's. Already parents in Virginia and the rest of the country are fighting against the CRT! Threatening to recall the school board members; who have sold out their souls to the devil himself!
The parents and their children throughout the United States are using their social media platforms in order to protect their K-12 aged school aged children!
They are relying upon Christian television stations such as the 700 hundred club to get their vital messages across to the rest of America! Whatever is happening in Virginia will not stop in the state of Virginia! Americans do not want a Socialist nation! They want their freedoms!
Unfortunately the Millennium generation of people born between 1980- 2000 are falling for the lies those liberal and progressive politicians are actively promoting. Also generation Z college age students have socialist instructors spoon feeding their socialistic ideology propaganda!
Where is the communist propaganda political machine located? It's central headquarters is based in the Red Chinese Communists party! Which seeks to place the entire world under the oppressive tyranny of the Bamboo Curtain! Global international enforced slavery labor camps making the Nazis look like choir boys because of their intensified cruelty and torture!
Let us face it America and the Western democracies! Red China wants to bankrupt you, black male you and kill you. And place all of you under its Bamboo Curtain! They are the common global enemies of the world!
Sincerely,
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954/209
Roxy 1954/ October Country
June 24, 2021
I was born, Bronx, New York, in the year 'Thirty-Nine',
the first child with a brother who followed in time.
Ten years later, moved North, Hudson Valley, same State
where I've settled, lived on with my loved ones to date.
But when young, in my school, two fine talents emerged,
and my teachers spared hours to encourage my urge.
I enjoyed my young years while I painted and penned;
lots of canvas and paper used up without end.
At eighteen, I then married the love of my life
and enjoyed my new path of becoming a wife
to my US Marine, very handsome and true;
Parris Island, our home for a year, almost two.
By the age twenty-five- was a mother of three;
a fine son, two sweet girls, a complete family.
We worked hard every day and our life was so good.
I wrote poems and painted whenever I could.
Later, painting with oils was the pastime for me-
while I studied for years at an art gallery.
Varied art shows, displays, and a job filled my time.
Soon I sold many pieces and life was sublime.
Yet, the years went by fast and at age thirty-nine,
I enrolled in a college to study part-time.
Six years later, I earned my prized English degree-
a BA—and a Minor in Business for me.
Then my pictures with words replaced those done with art,
and I soon published poems of life and of heart.
Yet along in this time of my great writing spree
I worked hard every day as our business VP.
For a full twenty years, we worked hard faithfully
after hubby retired as the Chief of FD,
selling our fire equipment, all types, big and small
to FDs, factories, district schools, and the malls.
Our dear children all married, with families too,
are involved happily in whatever they do.
Happy grandma of five- twenty-five to eighteen-
and one granddaughter married two thousand thirteen.
We retired, sold our business thirteen years ago,
still so busy with life, with its ebb and its flow.
We are proud and so blessed and thank God up above,
for our days and our life of good times filled with love.
April 11, 2015
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Where Are You From
Sponsor: Joseph Soper
Judged: 08/01/2017
~2nd Place~
Contest: Bio of a Poet
Sponsor: Tammy Reams
Judged: 04/18/2015
Form: Anapestic Tetrameter (12 syllables, 4 feet per line)
Charles Bukowski Road Not Chosen
While reading Charles Bukowski poetry
On the metro ride home
Listening to Buddha bar music
On my oh too hip IPod
I begin to see myself as I was
Over 30 years ago when I was merely a bit player
A minor character in a Charles Bukowski poem
A wild young underemployed intellectual
Hanging out in dismal bars and dives all over Asia and California
Hanging with disreputable women and drunks and drinkers
And characters out of his kinds of haunts
A mad poet bard of the underground
A drunken poet in a drunken bum show
That nightly played in his head
Then one day I met the women of my dreams
And went down a different path
A long slow path to respectability
And now 30 years later
I am no longer a wild man
I am still a poet at heart
But I am now also a bureaucrat
In a button down suite
Doing the people's business
Working for the Government
I've become the Man
Sometimes I wonder
Would I have been better off
Going down that another path
Would I have ended up
Somewhere else
Doing something else
Would I have been as happy
Would I have been as successful?
There is no answer that satisfies
The longing in my heart
For that wild thing
That still lurks beneath
It's civilized cover
And I know that I am still
A mad poet at heart
Railing against the injustice of the world
As I work day by day in the belly of the great beast of State
I recall the ancient Chinese saying,
"Confucian during the day while Taoist rebel at night"
Playing out in my head and nightly dreams
In the true American Upper class patrician tradition
I close the book and look out the window
Get off the train, and walk slowly home
And realize I had no choice
But to take the path that I’ve trodden on
And so I put aside my misgivings
And say goodbye to my "Bukowskian"desires
For another night of domestic contentment
Was it worth it all to take the conventional path
And not take the bohemian road to hell and back
I look at my wife and realize
I had no choice, had no choice
But to follow her to the ends of the earth
And beyond by her side as we walked our path
Of shared destiny
Goodbye Charles Bukowski wherever you are
May I meet you in a bar in the next life
And figure out where we should have gone
Until then the drinks are on me.
Grandpa the Master Magician
Grandpa was old and creaked
like a well-worn floorboard
but he always carried a smile with him
which generally won the day or the situation.
He had just spent time with his two grandchildren
which had added fun to his morning’s recipe.
They saw Grandpa as this master magician
capable of producing an egg from either nostril
..…. boiled or not.
An eggcellent start to any day!!
Later, on an icicle of an afternoon
and confronted by a presumptuous wind
which blew him around street corners;
he found himself happily chasing his youth.
Newspaper and chocolate treat acquired
he set off for the finishing line of home.
He noted that the traffic lights were changing to red!
So, although not at the proper crossing, his GPS
i.e. Grandpa’s Priority Selector
was saying…GO! GO! GO!
However so was a fast-approaching Fiat 500!
Grandpa felt validated by time and experience so..
he sailed forth but time and his knees didn’t agree.
His legs instead of speeding up, started slowing down
which was the exact opposite of the flying Fiat,
driven ruthlessly by a manic-panicked driver
who exaggerated a swerve around Grandpa
with arms orchestrating her extremely annoyed thoughts.
Grandpa tottered on oblivious to the orchestrations.
He felt composed being lean, leathery and learned
as opposed to the driver’s ill-fed, ill-bred, ill-mannered approach.
However Grandpa, the master magician, wasn’t to be thwarted
so as his feet touched pavement, his hand touched cap,
then his winning smile and a flicked wave of politeness.
The driver just continued with her orchestration of
Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony in C Minor
while mouthing, “Is your brain on holiday!”
However life was to offer Granpa a final judgement
for as the traffic lights winked from red to green
our driver was still in a boil of botheration until…
a honk of reprimand from behind grabbed her attention.
Frustrated she tried to floor the accelerator pedal
but only succeeded in stalling the engine.
The horn hoots and toots began queuing up
until the Fiat 500 burnt rubber and swivel-hipped away.
Grandpa’s face showed not a flicker of amusement
but he allowed his bones to enjoy the moment -
particularly the funny one!
Then the wind giggled up, clapped him on the back
and then kindly blew him gently home!
Yesterday, turned out,
To be, a magical day...
I got a great new drummer,
Totally excellent, I must say,
And he took the band,
To his amazing studio...
With every bit of exotic equipment...
A musician could know...
He mixed in like magic...
Making the band's chances
of reaching success to greatly grow...
And, though my physical pain was
much greater than usual,
We went to a diner in Queens,
for a menu perusal,
I treated my mates,
To a hearty dinner meal,
Glad for once I could treat,
It seemed no big deal...
From there on we went...
To the Howard Beach Yacht Club,
To play a musical gig,
The kind of job we do love...
Hosted by Queens Hell's Angels,
A fund raiser for poor kids,
For the "toys for tots bike run",
Sounds unreal, yet it was not,
It was just what it claimed,
That it really was, and every year
It still is...
We played for free,
though we got food or drinks,
Without charge...
And helped them earn money,
In their own hometown biker's lodge...
Well we were suplimented by
by other good musicians we knew...
We played an awesome set,
We knew what, and how, to do...
As for me, when I received,
What I perceived as a musician's slight..
Asked not to play...
every song that was planned,
For that big night,,
It seemed to me....
To be not being treated quite right...
So, yet, when we played,
We were sharper than a knife...
And were heros for the night...
Every song quite tight,
However, this somewhat offensive remark,
That was made to me,
Turned my playing skills
Up quite a mite....
And when we reached...
A great level of musical
Excellence,at that point,
And when it was at it's height...
We were rocking that joint,
We played way out-of-sight.....
But regarding my minor ego wound,
I somehow made my point,
So by a long night's end,
I had easily won that
Stupid and needless musical fight...
Picture "biker chicks" dancing
Exotically in front of the band,
Seemingly in ecstasy...
Which gave us a hand...
You see, such a thing...
Will make us play all the better...
And thunderous applause,
It seemed dotted the "i's"
In that letter....
We "Smoked 'Em" real good,
They loved every song....
Seemed they wanted us,
To play all night long...
Great satisfaction, and fun,
I really did have...
For at least my tired soul,
It was a heavenly sent salve.
2.
To be alive is to dance with danger.
Both hands off the wheel,
We fly down the icy plane of existence
Trusting our belief in a Right Order of Things
To shield us from the chaos,
The chaos that waits like a hungry beast
Just off the dim edges of waking life.
There is a poison which infects us,
Running through the deep channels of our minds,
Corroding our sense of self-control,
Rubbing raw the frayed edges of our common senses
Making us crave the deadly clarity of the irrational act,
Breeding a lust for the fearful appeal
That lies smiling in the hidden heart of brutality.
He comes out of his home early that morning,
His fiancee' stepping brightly beside him.
They climbed into their truck together
Warming one another with new lovers' looks
In the snapping cold November air.
When they felt themselves readied for another suburban day,
They began backing out,
Never noting the Hatchback's approach.
So, with a little jar and a little crunch,
Their vehicles met in a tiny collision.
Minor damages produced,
Enough for annoyance, no cause for hardship.
He got out to meet the other driver,
Prepared to dispatch with this unfortunate delay
Then move on with the day.
He saw the other driver walking towards him,
Then saw the gun.
In the space of one flashing moment
Another life met its abrupt end.
Without a word, the stranger lifted his gun
And emptied a full clip into his target.
9mm slugs opened round tunnels
In the stunned body standing before him,
Blood rained brightly, roses on new snow.
After the limp form of the newly dead fell,
The killer walked back to his truck
Brought out a fresh clip,
To calmly use it up on the body
That danced under the impacts,
A briefly animated corpse upon the tarmac.
As these things transpired the woman,
The would've-been wife of the bleeding ruin
Screamed in the cab; she screamed and screamed
Like a bird in pain,
Face a vision of horror.
That horror broke itself for a fleeting moment,
Long enough to let panic flood in
The would-be wife took off then,
In aimless, agonized flight.
The killer roamed free for days.