Long Nationwide Poems
Long Nationwide Poems. Below are the most popular long Nationwide by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nationwide poems by poem length and keyword.
Absent deliberate intervention
vis a vis suicide,
supposed "natural" longevity of generic human
starring sallying forth primate ride
ding bareback across avast
broke back mountain minus pride
defies accurate prediction,
though hypothetical
projections can override
unknown factors, whereby
excluding misfortune nationwide
(and/or globally deadly accidents,
catastrophes, diseases, mudslide,
fatalities from gunshot, et cetera)
unexpectedly arise dismissing by landslide
mortal adversity can be generally,
and more accurately spell joyride
ding calibrated to continue,
thus subsequent existence,
viz getting inside
scoop of this basic fellow, aye surmise
to continue for many another hayride
say...two score plus more orbitz,
whereat linkedin, flickr ring guide
by invisible hand snapchatting
crackling and popping fireside,
twittering whatsapp pining
during eventide,
watching virtual twilight at dockside,
witnessing artificial intelligence,
perfectly mimicking
illusory edenic countrywide
vibrantly melds scenic ideal tonic bedside
counting black sheepish crows,
thence set sleep number
putting all worries aside
while merrily rowing boat
with gentle creatures alongside.
The Twelve days of Christmas
On the first day of Christmas, my true love said to me, I think that’s the police up there. So I drove them up against a pear tree.
On the second day of Christmas, forensics were at my door, haha, I don’t live there any more.
On the third day of Christmas, a nationwide search was out for me, they would never find me, I was hiding up a pear tree.
On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love called to say, why are there four birds calling you, what the hell is going on.
On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love texted to say, a reward of five gold rings is on your head.
On the sixth day of Christmas, I was joined by two turtle-doves, not forgetting that bloody partridge, who was really doing my box in.
On the seventh day of Christmas, the turtle-doves thanked me for the meal, with the words, the partridge would have loved this. Didn’t have the heart to tell them.
On the eighth day of Christmas, I laid into six geese with a half brick, now I really was hating birds, would die for a fish.
On the ninth day of Christmas, I caught the turtle-doves playing around with three French hens, a hand grenade put paid to that.
On the tenth day of Christmas I got turned on by eight maids a milking, though this was short-lived when I was attacked by seven swans a swimming.
On the eleventh day of Christmas, feckin drummers turned up, followed by eleven pipers, ten lords trying to leap nine ladies of the night. F*** sakes, man, do these people know who they’re dealing with.
On the twelfth day of Christmas, I awoke from a drunken dream. My god, the wife screamed, somebody’s massacred the partridge, what the hell are we going to do now, there’s only fish left to eat.
Only fish left to eat,
Oh God, thank you for my Christmas treat….
Nationwide adverts are written so fine,
talking the talk of a walk that's sublime,
no mention of accounts that'll grow over time,
your attention's attained through these nursery rhymes.
In a nation that's narrow more tall than is wide,
steeped deep with history of sorrow and pride,
Brexiting the Brussels while all others are tied,
no mystery, clear misery sees the EU divide.
Ocktoberfest to bulls let loose in the street,
siestas of rest to the pasta they eat,
united by sport that increase your heartbeat,
war after war making Europe less sweet.
So you think of England or Scotland or Wales,
and those ancient made up patriotic tales.
Slaying the dragon or knights and round tables or William Wallace,
just give us the money that sits in your wallets.
Your heart knows it's home as you don't walk alone,
prone to mishaps from which friendships have grown,
but this is a commercial to be your monies new home,
yet with all of these words our policy's unknown.
We rhyme the rhyme and say anything,
but we do not say what we are selling,
we ramble on like with this poem,
la diddy da, I'm "scoffed" for a swim.
Nationwide adverts cost millions,
winning over 14 million opinions.
Nationwide since 1884,
but what we are selling,
we are not sure.
NATIONWIDE
What's new with me...Matthew?
Well for starters Nationwide
road service emergency
one man cutting crew
with battery charger in tow knew
exactly why no juice (think electricity),
his hunch found trunk light kept lit,
an innocent looking (to me or you)
lady's handbag accouterment,
fifty shades of blue
stuck out just enough did cue
automotive technician, who
witnessed yours truly flapping
imaginary wings (think) cuckoo
unwittingly, irretrievably, and
admirably lost me scant sanity true
"fake" news I trumpet as a gentile Jew...
Just in time for men
rhythmically singing, melodiously
acapella harmonizing huzzah olé
in white coats besotted and
bespattered with vegetable puree
to take me away
ho-ho hee-hee ha-haaa
hip...hip... hooray
to the funny farm yea,
where life beautiful every day
and skies fifty shades of gray...
Thus, the reason I type pell mell
(think hunt and peck),
an inner madness to quell,
while hermetically locked in padded cell
shut airtight like... a citadel
which soundproof environment hell
lava hot improvement versus dwell
ling with volcanic spouse, and well
equipped to nurture solitude, ah... nobody,
but me and Matty mattel
both of us undergoing re education
initiated courtesy crack atop
noggin tinnitus subsequently
experiencing ringing like liberty bell
afterwards undergoing gender reassignment
clearly yours truly exuded effeminate spell
not recognizing only muttering to himself
fancifully dolled up
as debutante mademoiselle,
and appearing sitting pretty I willingly tell.
Twas glorious occasion regarding
miracles of modern medicine to sing
namely routine engineered
sex change, bitty bing
bitty bang minus one
minor glitch really... nothing
but doggone veteran (aery) surgeon
pulled off bone huff eyed gracefully amazing
stunt at my expense unwittingly injecting
canine female hormonal secretions,
hence I find myself barking, ing
and strong desire burning
to frequent fire hydrants.
We live in the age of "Brexit",
a transitional time seemingly hectic,
many alive didn't expect it,
the hectic or the exit,
now an inability to accept it
may pull Britain down and wreck it.
"It's the people that make a great nation".
Skewed Brexit news is on the loose as the media exploit,
abusing those minds that choose to view unclued through adroit.
Many remain refrain their pain though inside they are annoyed,
while minorities moan and re-moan at authorities "Britain is destroyed",
believing our prospects and hope are now void,
as though being a united kingdom is something they wish to avoid.
"It's the people that make a great nation".
Once in this country of greatness was the greatest generation,
and before them many great generations with great dedication,
living in the misery of pain through the mass devastation,
Great Britain became great because people made a great nation.
Now there is history that our generation is placed in,
big history, important, generating a divide,
there are many twitching at our country for switching,
splitting the people into two nationwide.
Divide will provide a denied success to our mission,
it's as if self respect and pride has gone missing,
we need to unite all through the same ambition,
be in the same boat and sail, if not we fail and are left wishing.
"We the people can make a great nation".
Brexit is just a change it is not true hell,
if you can't see that, I'll tell,
the bomb hits in the Blitz united a unit,
there was death daily, imagine you in it,
or you led on the ground in a ditch,
inches from the flow of bullets,
our Brexit reality now is very different isn't it.
Would you be one to fight on the beaches,
or embrace spite like Brexit bit**es?
Are you remain remoaners proud of how you behave,
do you think your behaviour could rule the waves?
Do you think you could moan your way to the largest empire,
whilst being an "I didn't get what I wanted" crier?
"It's we the people that can make a great nation,
it's we the people that can fail the situation".
As Churchill once said, the future is in our hands,
it is again now, we command our lands".
It was in eighteen eighty-six in the streets of Chicago,
where the greatest miscarriage of justice people would know
transpired in an infamous labor-police rendezvous.
Albert Parsons led eighty thousand people on revue.
The strikers marched down Chicago’s Michigan Avenue.
The Knights of Labor were sponsors for the work stoppage venue.
Demands for shorter work hours and no child labor were made.
This would be regarded as the world’s first May Day parade.
Thousands nationwide would join in with the activities
In the next few days, the striking workers stopped whole industries.
On the third, some strikers and police engaged in melees.
These actions resulted in two ill-fated fatalities.
The struggles also caused some severe hideous injuries.
The fights took place at the McCormick Harvester Company.
Many held the police for murderous culpability.
Organizers from the Knights of Labor held a mass rally
at the Haymarket in Chicago’s West Loop vicinity.
They would assemble there in the early part of May.
Thousands crowded there peacefully on the month’s fourth day.
Leaflets were passed noting the police for murder to the crowd
as anarchists urged the mobs to join forces and shout aloud.
A bomb thrown at the police catalyzed an altercation.
One officer was killed and others hurt in the explosion.
Matthias Degan was the officer fallen in duty.
Seven other policemen died later from an injury.
The police opened fire on the people immediately.
At least eleven of the strikers were shot at fatally.
Eight men stood trial for the death of police officer Degan.
They were Parsons, August Spies, George Engel, Samuel Fielden,
Adolf Fischer, Louis Lingg, Michael Schwab, and Oscar Neebe.
All eight were tried and found guilty by a judge and jury.
Neebe got fifteen years; the others got the death penalty.
Schwab and Fielden were commuted to life; then got clemency.
Lingg took his own life before his scheduled execution.
The remaining four men were hanged in public exhibition.
Since then, there have been enacted many labor reform laws
The men who died are considered martyrs to a noble cause.
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for the information I obtained to write this
poem.
exclamation, which does nothing to stem dead locked high tide
proliferation of high-powered assault bazookas
manned by berserk cruel death eaters,
arch nemesis picks off life with a blip
simultaneously bipedal hominid(s) grip handily rounded dirk
as backup in case clip
misses mark, where siege mentality induces
nationwide sprinting into lockdown mode deterring by a drip
fiendish homicidal metamorphoses, where transmogrification
of generic guy wielding weapon subjugating hostages pits malignancy fill lip
mailer daemon hell bent on besieging bait (unaware
Snapchatting linkedin flickr ring beings) burst deadly quip
barrage of bullets malicious intent to spray
killing machines deliver click and rip
paying plenti deathly instagram howls amidst pandemonium,
thence funereal slip
epitaphs etched on tombstones proliferate taking souls to Hades trip.
Brutal and nasty nefarious scheme directed at humble lettered folks
(like those comprising my home town -
once evoked pastoral meme Lake Woebegone)
minding their p's and q's, when in extremis
out of the blue nightmare interrupts idyllic dream
a sudden bitta bing bitta bang rings terrorist catcall
followed by red tide and river of bloodied body where caskets
rendered veneer of dark wood within lies corpse,
pistol whipped, shredded and outkast, where mortician daubs creme.
Soundcloud boom echoes, thus occurs staccato sinister sonic strafes across
freshly fielded tombstone; pearl jam gray slate, some formerly anonymous
namesake, which underling, higgs bo son or daughter blitzkrieg cross
invisible trajectories shatter (at shutterfly speed),
democratic rubric rendered dross
disposable lives of society with senseless slaughter, whereat somber silence
pines nostalgia for Mill on the Floss
when life seemed innocent against gun metal gloss
wails of agony at another human loss.
Vigilance is the price of freedom
Seen, are the caskets home comings
We don’t want any more forever wars
It’s always been the black gold, we fight for
Illegal catastrophic war, worth billions
Our dad’s fought fascists, with their lives they paid,
offerings of service to the millions
A system we can trust is all we want,
this tactical gambit smoldering, far from it
Even as the heartless with their hatred,
face to face, they try tirelessly to provoke us,
yet with grace, we stand tall with heads held high
They are the a g g r e s s o r s
with a need in their bitter-battered hearts,
where their pain inside resides
For them it’s too late, it's too late!
For them change will never come
And although they are enabled,
by the few, the mean-spirited labeled,
it’s how they shall remain
And we protest peacefully regardless
Their youthful ones are young not wordless,
their great-grand-and-dads fought against
what these cruel men now represent…
The man who sold the world,
The King of clowns absurd
A trickster trumpets his hellish horn
A thorn subsides aside in world’s forlorn
Nationwide, in the thousands,’
from up north, down south, east and west
Los Angeles, we all know it best!
New York City, Boston,
all the way to Mar-A-Largo!
We come from everywhere,
and to all beats and tempos
our soulful hearts filled, when we go,
All generations generate sounds of protest
most festive, with signs of sorrow and spoken words
Shout-outs mellifluous,
in harmony we sing-along
Voices alike, we’re birds of a feather,
and we beat our drums together
And how kind of them to show,
to say how out-of-touch is The Prez
Bruce, Billy Porter, Jane and
J o a n B a e z
Against his mad minded, agenda
we’ll find a way,
This new world order
out the window and to the border
A culture war, windstorm
Colors combined—humans sway
catching the wave,
in the center of it all
I m m i g r a n t s,
we came out for them,
and their children, and for ourselves
We carry the American flag,
others carry flags of their motherlands,
A reminder of where we come from
We want to take it back,
it’s ours and not for ruthless racists
Vigilance is the price of freedom,
and courage is infectious
NO KINGS DAY 3rd Protest
3/28/26
Whether a totally
tubular ordinary day, or...hmm...
perhaps at the
approach of yuletide,
one need not go
far and wide
across the webbed world
to experience being unified,
this quasi motto maxim of sorts
analogous to auld
sanity clause trailguide
motivates me to
seek if necessary
all the way to Telluride
to attempt Swiss-side
enlightenment with every stride,
thus please feel free
and clear to chat streamside
ideally at springtide,
yea your welcome, yes do
respond to this snide
loner if game to chess das side
to accompany this gadabout
(once pawn a time) rook
key nada so longfellow
wordsworth king rustler,
yup, who still attests
to occupy ringside
available vacancy for queenside
guest of honor, (gnome hatter
if ye happen tubby pride
full favoring an effeminate
poetic guy), also...provide
ding no aversion toward
this moon face planetwide,
Martian hood doth bleach blonde
his hair with peroxide,
this lapsed lose zoo lee
errant knight well,
that could pose a minor
drag) hubble restraint,
I would override,
but actually this ring
around the collar, (sans whiskey
perspiration at noontide),
drunkard, (that's when
my late morning gets broken)
yea...way offset from nationwide
conformity, nonetheless huff
fain tuff fellowship with me,
a chap who doth not arise
before the crack of noon
lest inside his noggin
oozes like a mudslide,
(which on May 31, 1889
washed away Johnstown, Pennsylvania),
the damn burst (like
a Led Zeppelin),
and roared down the mountainside
triggered (human sited) landslide
decimating, leveling, and uprooting,
every friggin gabled
house along hillside,
which essentially created massive graveside.
"The moment all this happens - it will then be a wonderful world"
~ The Poet~
The Moment:
a butterfly alights its cocoon,
the sun rendezvous with the moon
appears a congenial smile
rapture begins to beguile
a delight sparks a memory
it adorns earth, a crystal gemmary
lavender bliss permeates the air
succulent honeysuckle everywhere
tyrants cease to exist
dissention is covered with loving mist
in empathy a teardrop sorrowfully falls
for help the loneliest heart calls
whales have no need to lament
killing whales no longer an event
a cure is found
the deaf hear a sound
true love is sworn
luscious blueberries adorn
happiness is everyone’s duty.
all bestowed with beauty
a healthy baby is born
The rich are humble
The wise fail to stumble
God is pleased
all suffering is eased
all weapons melt
true contentment is felt
splendor isn’t just for some
we live to the beat of one drum
trivial tribulations fade
positive thoughts invade.
violence is negated
respect for all is appreciated
shattered hearts mend
pure doctrine He will send
generosity becomes law
there’s kindness evermore
endeavor always reaps reward
our Lord we elevate toward
when all fears subside
understanding is nationwide
peace resumes her sway
all wars cease come what may
The moment these words can truly be unfurled:
Then we can say What a wonderful world.