Long No count Poems
Long No count Poems. Below are the most popular long No count by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long No count poems by poem length and keyword.
Being a Black Man
Reflection of one
The need to be loved and admired
The representation of Determination
Survival on responsibility
Being supported through a family
Born Leader in take charge
Family Component
Storms of uncertainty
Wonder into realize
Respect vibe
Sometimes beaten, torn and worn
The need to fight
A fall down with a get up
Struggles mount with no count
Dependability
Society wants the Black Man to crawl and bend
Opposition wants, but Black Man principles won’t.
Society wants the Black Man to step back
The Black Man was created by a higher calling being purpose
Virtues in the honor
Sometimes the Black Man feels alone
No back up, but own thoughts within
Strong body, but weak in the mind
The wonder if assurance still lives
The survival way
To have or have not.
The Need, Desire, Fulfill
At times, it seems the Black Man is drowning in fate
Suddenly, inner strength brings the Black Man to the surface
Eyes like a spotlight on the Black Man in “Do you know what you want in life?”
Black Men are who they were meant to be
They must feel it and achieve it
Always the assumption interpretation in observation
Judged on looks and not character
Yet the Black Man continues to stand
A must.
Holding onto pride being the Black Man
The Try, Can, Will and Shall
Never easy theory
The Black Man Image
The thought being privilege
Sustaining
No matter what
All Black Men speak
Defeating conquer
Into overcome
Black Man today and well into everlasting.
Morning knocks on us
As I commingle with him,
My mentor ,with dread of poetic locks
With God, not of them became parts
For my thoughts still shrouded of secrecy.
Of no count are them
Drinking from the calabash of ignorance
Ascribing artificial misery of man to God
Dreaming of it a time of His ascendence . . . throne
To the abysmal of our own earth of gloominess
For a case already settled in Paradise
Heaven knows that God has given water freely
But they tag price on poor pure satchet for us
Our land speak of bountiful crops
Yet our mouth chew bountiful hunger,
NO! No!! No!!! not a case with God again
It is a case of them the ruling vampires.
The dreamers must stop dreaming
Time for the ignorants to join us
To bring down the vampire's empire
Our case is with them, not with Him up above.
Alayande Stephen.T
16th, August, 2006
2.35am
This is your moment
This is the time when you need to rise. There is no back door to the house
That is butted up against the hardness of your memory. Always, the only
Way out is through what you are facing. Do not think you will take
The easy way. There is no easy way. Although the paths are unlimited,
None are without the work you need to perform, or the sacrifice you
Need to make. There will be people in your life that carry flashlights for
The dark. You will see their light and call them Angels. They believe that
They are saving you, but it is you who are saving them by providing the
Purpose they feel is missing in their lives. Nothing is missing. We have only
To look for it in the many rooms of the house in which we all reside. There
Is no count for the number of rooms in our house. If you seek, you will
Always find. For we are each a part of the one mind of God. We walk
Together throughout those many rooms. For many, the room they find Themselves in is the only life they can imagine. We are all endowed with
The same Super-power. Our imagination allows us to envision any of the
Unlimited number of rooms in our house. We can move through any
Door into any room to reveal and experience any aspect of ourselves.
All that is necessary is for us to change our mind and free our creative
Ability to imagine. Those who have done so before have always
Succeeded, as will we. Imagine yourself in a different room of this
House in which we all reside and by the choices you make let
Life help you journey to that place because...
This is your moment
In my childhood days, there was a tree
living out in the country so much to see
there it stood right middle of swing park
many happy hours spent there up to dark
I'm no expert on trees but this was big
both in thickness and a great height
there's no count of the times passed it by
it was always there strong and right
Every night after school dashing over
to have fun on swings look straight on
before my eyes that great friend of mine
filling my mind for one day it'll be gone
Some nights just love to play soccer
venue swing park surrounds real wood
but Mother calls me in for the tea
don't want to go for I'm in the right mood
My wooden anchor is my place
feel securely safe really very sure
just me and that trunk of wood
my memories there so very pure
(Tea in 4th stanza would mean your evening meal, it was called our tea in Scotland.)
A visit to my village in the month of june,
all that it offers you is a very short day and a lazy afternoon.
Soft whirring of the fan making heavy the eyelids,
trying in futile to stay open over a paragraph in a book.
With the little ones all wide awake,
chattering over games of carrom and chess
sending about a crazy cacophony of voices.
But with the red and green sherbets making up
for the tormenting heat outside.
Competing over how many mangoes one can eat,
a one..a two..and there's no count how many more.
The otherwise chirpy fruit orchard wears
a graveyard like eerie mood of it's own in the hot summer noon.
With not too many birds in sight,
yet you can sometimes spot a dog sulking in the grove hiding from the hot sunlight.
While I continue to crib and cry waiting impatiently for the monsoons
a sibling in a faraway land keeps fond memories of his Indian summer afternoons.