Long Npr Poems
Long Npr Poems. Below are the most popular long Npr by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Npr poems by poem length and keyword.
I dream a world where the courage of our conviction
is governed by the confidence in our compassion.
I dream a world where the courage of our conviction
is governed by compassion out of fashion.
I dream a world where we fashion a song of freedom
from the chains of our confusion.
I dream a world where the confusion of conviction
breeds the opportunity of connection.
I dream a world where the arcing line of justice
bisects the stubborn line of continuous conviction.
I dream a world where the chains linking all conviction
melt the chains which link the fences of our illusion.
I dream of a dream within a dream where the awakening
air we breathe is not a yawn but the song we dreamed.
And this time…
we remember…
all the words.
I have a dream.
"We live with Memorial Day, every day."
They're marching down the avenue, all dressed in red, white, and blue
Waving flags and playing songs, smiling as they march along
Creases sharp, salutes as well, I have no doubt the ranks will swell
Brass will blare and brass will swear upholding freedom ev'rywhere
Wish they could come here and free me, from this lifelong memory
I live with it ev'ry day, ev'ry day's memorial day
I woke early yesterday, I woke up twice again today
Mem'rie's passing in review, sharply dressed in shades of blue
Flags were snapping in the breeze, the Old Guard passed in ranks of three
Two at home one on the way, waiting for that happy day
Now my salute is on the sleeve, sewn there where my heart should be
I live with it ev'ry day, ev'ry day's memorial day
Grandfolk's have the kids today, they'll fish with Grandpa in the bay
They'll swim and laugh and eat too much, they'll sleep tonight without a fuss
I'll stay up late and watch TV, I'll search for some light comedy
Before I lay to toss and turn, I'll think back to the day I learned
Johnny had just made the grade, he's joined the ranks, he's gone today
I live with it ev'ry day, ev'ry day's memorial day
Dear Lady,
I heard you say that you still trust President Trump
to do almost as good a job as he says he is doing,
despite all the lies,
because "they all do that",
just say whatever the audience of the moment
would most like to hear.
Really?
I believe Abraham Lincoln,
our first Republican President,
would be surprised to hear his Gettysburg Address
was "telling them what they want to hear"
in his best cheerleader,
go, fight, win voice.
And it seems to me that Thomas Jefferson,
one of the PreRepublican forefather type Presidents,
would object to hear his rather specific name-calling
Declaration of Independence from plutocratic,
and perhaps greedy, and maybe slightly cynical, Elitists,
was just telling the good King what he really wanted to hear.
But regardless of whether our quality standards for Presidential integrity
should reasonably be expected to go up,
now that we're into our 40th-something incarnation of this Office,
or reasonably be expected to go down
after the first two or three, or sixteen,
or whatever
back in ancient integrity times,
when the premillennial pubic person was worth his/her word
in trust repaid.
How can you trust a President
who is significantly less sure of your right to health and climate care giving
and receiving
for yourself
and for our multiculturing grandkids,
than was the former President?
How is that going in a direction that you
and your healthy extended pro-life family,
your tribe,
neighborhood militia,
or paranoid klan,
or whatever
you continue to trust
as some direction that could be good enough
for those you love the most?
Health,
like racism
and sexism,
does not optimally arrive in individual-portioned packages;
they only sustain resilient climaxes
on interdependent through empty and bereft social scales
of qualities for cooperative wealth v WinLose competing pathologies.
Still Listening
Your Democratic HealthAsWealth Advocate
How dare you I thought to the questioner
Out of bounds
The NPR reporter asks Annie Clark aka St. Vincent
Are you, are you, you know ok?
Referencing her latest song Smoking Section
Ok so maybe she takes pills I don’t know
Lives on the stage
Of bravery or depravity but it’s just a way
It’s ok
Like as Robert Plant once said in another interview
I’m basically public property
And she loves it ok! Center of attention
Because yes she is that interesting
Pantyhose torn down her sultry love-to-lick-it left thigh
But Annie stumbles to answer that odd last question
I could almost hear her head on the radio
Tilt into the microphone and register
I’m embarrassed
I thought no no how unfair
Let me pick up your ancient GHB from the floor
And dust your vulnerable seashells off
Don’t let someone make you feel that way Annie
That’s what makes you so special
Ok
So you wanted to kill a guy then kill yourself just to scare him a little more
So?
To fall on a rush hour flow of taxicabs below
Unnoticed by anyone
Happens in a song
And any way it’s not the end as you finally said
I want to tell you I think I understand
The powerful woman in you
Though I don’t know you
At all
That song
Long before that interrogation
Was a fetched pail from the well within me
Lifted and overflowing with poetry
Made me fall hopelessly in love with you
And I know ok? How that’d make you laugh
As an artist
Mission accomplished
That song from you
A few innocent bullets fired at my retreating feet
While you are apparently required to live your life
Hereafter
To the chains of that one song and moment of strife
As if that is all you will ever be or…Are
You ok?
I guess
That’s what I’m trying to say in a long-winded and poor kind of way
Ok?
Judge not
It’s just all a great song.
Hands across the pond to the NPR,
When you give power to the truth
It's a beacon from afar,
We've got a message from the UK
Coming at you, forsooth,
So now feel me when I say,
From the Morning Edition
Get Embedded every day,
When All Things Are Considered,
We need to hear what you've go to say,
Keep the Tiny Desk running hot,
Got to love those funky, fresh, sounds
Don't let Trump's lies go unchallenged
Fact check them down to the ground,
Fake news, fake flues or 'inject yourself with Lysol'!
The only cure for tyrrany
Is not to tolerate it, people
So.......
Don't let the WackaDood
Give you any Other Smother,
The Republic will survive, I pray,
If you respect each other.
Entertainment on TV
Or radio depends
On funding from the government
Or ads for private ends.
Both PBS and NPR,*
With Public in each name,
Provide such joy for tuners-in,
With years of much acclaim.
From children’s shows to orchestras
To journalists with news,
The varied offerings present
A host of different views.
Yet now an order has been signed -
I’ll let you guess by whom -
To end all public funding,
As these stations meet their doom.
To stop “woke propaganda”
By the “monsters” on the “left,”
This, instead, will damage children
And leave listeners bereft.
The only monster I can see
Is one who thinks he’s king
And every day I wonder
What new horror he will bring.
*Public Broadcasting Service and
National Public Radio