Long Modern times Poems
Long Modern times Poems. Below are the most popular long Modern times by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Modern times poems by poem length and keyword.
Breath Of My Life
In the womb of time and life every breath I take could be
my last when I expire and exhale my last wind of change
~~ I Trust You ~~
First inspiration after having floated in my maternal cushion
exiting that safe placental place of centre attached to Mother
came pink naked forceful and screaming entering this world
thus Ilse Martha Gertrud Ida must have inspired me most
~~ You Gave Me life ~~
No breast milk for me as those were ‘modern’ times after
that awful war which could have made you bitter but soft
you were kind and nourishing kept me afloat in unconditional
~~ Love ~~
When depression hit you invited me into your life and sharing was
caring and we dispensed much more than melancholy genes when
you mended hippie jeans dreams and my bruises in the patchwork of
~~ Life ~~
I have your white wild flowing hair and your father’s bad eyes that
rebellious streak and silver highlights your sports and your passion
as you gave me direction tentative creation a questioning mind and
~~ Survival ~~
When you died and my soul buried under the duvet once more
you understood and forgave that I could not witness your final
journey I only mourned and attended from very afar and so close
~~ In Desperate Tears ~~
Thank you for loving and holding me and breathing with me through
a whirlwind of challenge and mist towards growth and compassion and
for letting me go finding own inspiration in my life so very attached
~~ To Your Heart ~~
Welcome to my mind, it's a place you will seldom see
You have to be in my peripheral to see the inside of me
For if you are ever welcomed to enter through it's door
You will be forever invited to grace your futures floor
The iconic of mans past will resonate all around
Shaped buildings like Easter Island, in our cities will so abound
Squared skyscrapers of our modern times, will disappear from our view
Statues of man in salute, below purpled skies so true
The skylines you see today, so institutional of their time
It's a place you will seldom see, unless your welcomed into my mind
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/ed-unitsky.php
thinking about mama by the lake
watching the wildlife contemplate about something
ole mabel nudges me from behind with her cold, wet nose
i guess she is ready to go home to get back to nappin'
i do not think that it is too much of a drag growing old
my mixture of regrets and no regrets both brought about stories i can now smile and laugh about
my steely dan box set is the perfect vibe for the partly cloudy early fall day
if i could go back (jack) and do it again, i would make more memories to any world that i'm welcomed to
perhaps then i would have a particular feeling on my left ring finger
then again, that is yet another educated guess, for which i am now a professional
lost in thought again, ole mabel lightly whines and nudges me from behind again with her cold, wet nose
i look at her aged, wearied, 22-year-old face and just smile at her smiling at me
her unconditional love has inspired me to open myself to being myself
i slowly get up from the old stone lakefront seat, skip a rock for mama, and grant ole mabel's wish
tomorrow i get back to it with my early morning whining and expressing wishes for retirement
at the same time, i pray that ole mabel will make it to 23
Sisyphus
A man, who by the fluke of nature
had lived for 500 years preaching
unity and peace
He used to ride on his white mule
from the village to the next people
listened to him and agreed also
Everybody wants peace when we
Get rid of so and so, we must be
ready to fight and kill the enemy
When modern times came, he went
around in a car and his audience
has grown worldwide
He is a secular saint
Looks like a Jewish scholar I met
in Copenhagen, playing the piano
Lately, he has been depressed; it
has dawned on him, man is not fit
For a peaceful life, strife is the glue
Binding us together in common
disharmony of righteousness and
the hatred that brings
A scene of disgust in these modern times.
Down backstreet allies, under street signs.
Every kind of vile disgrace,
Tug and pulling on the human race.
In the name of diversity except the claim,
understanding and tolerance in God’s Holy Name.
No right, no wrong, whose morals they ask?
Live for today, forget the past.
As they run and take the risk,
A feel-good mentality in social bliss.
Rewrite the constitution to fit the need,
squeeze the Ten Commandments,
for the sake of man’s greed.
A little at a time the good falls away,
America, like a dead dog, starts to decay.
Morality, slips that once burned so bright,
Dims, to become a speck in the night.
Mothers seem to get all the press
Dads seem to be forgotten
I know some of them are not much good
But I still think that’s a bit rotten.
Mothers can be bad as well
It won’t come as a surprise,
But remember if it wasn’t for your dad,
You wouldn’t be here to criticise.
Dads are good and they work hard
The money to bring in
Some bring up the children nowadays
As mums go to work and pitch in.
My dad is gone a long time now
I still miss his advice on living
He was a pain sometimes as well
But I can still forgive him.
He would love the new technology
The mobile phones and laptops
His Sinclair computer was magical then
He’s never heard of I pods.
Children rule the world today
And I really don’t think that’s good.
Look at all the mess they make
And I really don’t think they should.
A child today cannot be wrong
“Its parents faults” it’s that old song.
“It’s the way you bought them up
You shouldn’t be in that neighbourhood.”
But the child that rules this country place,
Could do with a good slap in the face.
His name gives clue it's Cameron
Because it rhymes with A moron.
Dads are great, and equal, they just don’t wear the dress
Let’s give all the dad’s out there, a much better press.
Dads should have equality in these new modern times
But we girls know what dads really want
We can read between the lines!!
'Twas at the home of Governors
with pink champagne in hand
I asked them all to take their chairs
still restless, I did stand
I began to speak on modern times
and Pinner's mind to tax
and laughing as they sipped their wines
I felt the more relaxed
As caviar was ushered in
no one the least perplexed
still rattling on about our age
until I mentioned sex
The chandeliers began to shake
the butlers 'loosed their ties
what in the world was happening?
why all the constant sighs?
I merely mentioned the metaphor
to stress the women quaint
when Mr. Belaire
dropped his cigar,
the ladies began to faint
No need to get hysterical
I can explain you see
Sex is but the small word SIX
except you use an "e"
age 16
I waited for mid-November’s calm
that arrived last night,
a pause between storm systems
of Autumn wind and rain.
Today will be the day I recycle leaves,
a process much changed in modern times.
The rake was once the tool of choice,
when families dragged dead leaves to small piles.
Piles where then transported to larger ones,
where fire created a unique aroma,
signaling a time betwixt fall and winter,
between Halloween and Thanksgiving.
Today, I will use my riding lawn mower,
with high-tech spinning blades
to mulch dead leaves without a rake,
without a bead of sweat.
The mighty machine will pulverize
large leaves, that just a few days ago
bejeweled hundreds of trees,
leaves that provided shade in summer months.
Two passes and Autumn’s carpet
will be organic powder,
ready for rain to push it through the grass,
where it will enrich waiting roots.
Today’s smell of diesel exhaust
will replace that of yesteryear’s burning leaves,
representing efficiency and ecology,
but creating a feeling of loss for what used to be.
"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."
Mahatma Gandhi
Oh, Mighty Men
Oh, mighty men who think they have the right
to play at being God when they are wronged -
Throughout history we’ve seen their kind.
They think their acts of vengeance make them strong.
One insult to their reputation and
it wasn’t long ago, they’d have a duel! In modern times,
law suits they might bring, taking all they can
from their offenders, for to turn the other cheek
they think will make them weak.
Oh, mighty men, who bring their kinsmen into war
for grievous crimes that should be dealt with by a court
or leaders of nations who cannot see a side other than their own:
How many more innocents in this world must die
because of unforgiving hearts made of stone and pride?
Written for a contest but also this kind of thing made me very mad to think about it!
I don't have many angry poems,but hopefully my anger for these men shows in this poem!!
She came upon me in a dream deep down from within my destination
Which coursed the mind and soul of years for my memories' inspiration
The path was crowded with bouncing hooves and wagons decorated
With fantasies ornaments adoration painted with merriment unabated
Echoes' subconscious sound of wild horses drawing cart wheels' canter
A symphony's reminder of nectar's flow from a coloured glass decanter
Bewildered I reminisced on sentiments nostalgia and what lies ahead
Fanfares of homeliness adventure passion to pounding of a drumhead
Heated stallions ran wild with mares and took my innate flight of fancy
Less trodden though in modern times a covert path offered me fragrant tansy
Potions of wild garlic lavender and bouquets of aromatic blue sage scent
I grabbed the message by the horns and galloped to my heart's content
One face stood out and reached my fired feelings as I took off one blinker
A nomad girl dressed in rags whistles bells whom you might call a tinker
Olive skin and amber eyes beyond all reason teasing all sensual needs
Her hair like forests full of tangles I must touch her locks lest she proceeds
Around her neck dangled an amulet crafted from ivory and ancient oak
Grant me a whiff of freedom give me one chance to embrace and stroke
The skin's wilderness and passion which may save me from my strife
A single breath or little smooch from cherry lips to give me the kiss of life
She shone as bright as ruby petals and took her path along the lane
Of elderberry flower and hawthorn hedges which made me go insane
Her chest adorned with orange curves she wore a crown of quince
She's been imprinted on my summer screen for more and ever since
And still the magic rings hooked on her ears of nectarine shaped silver
Stir the image when I hear a voice singing the praise and beauty of her
A scintillating Roma bride sculpted from nature of the purest sense
Prophesy omen oracle and metaphor in one quite magically intense
When sunshine arises red and purple with violins and tambourine
I pinch the moon in thanks for right next to me slumbers my Fairy Queen
Once upon a time I handed her a golden peach an oath and sacred bond
She calls herself a gypsy and kindly waves to me with her magic wand
11th April 2020