Long Offices Poems
Long Offices Poems. Below are the most popular long Offices by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Offices poems by poem length and keyword.
What if you were an inhabitant of a world
Where there's no hate, greed, jealousy, envy, and pride;
And one is not enraged by the prosperity of another?
What if conceit and enmity are erased from the course of history,
And malignity is perpetually swallowed in the deepest of pits,
Sinking to rise no more?
What if your subconscious ideate a world
Filled with love, peace, and harmony?
What if Seven Billion human beings could live together under one canopy,
Tending to and upholding high esteem for one another
As benevolence becomes the ultimate act,
That reigns over all timelines?
What if we put aside the destructive comparisons and competitions,
And every individual follows his or her own path
While uplifting all others at the same time?
What if the promotion of individuality and self productivity,
Was the niche of every human —one to another—
And every gift and talent was equally consequential to society?
What if there was no lust for power
And political leaders as well as government officials,
Assume offices not to seek their own selfish interests
By misappropriating public funds, and embezzling state owned belongings to enrich themselves?
What if they had the sincere dedication
To ensure the welfare and security of the state and its citizens?
What if this world was a sanctuary of peace with the nonexistence of violence,
Where nations were aimed at building, rather than destroying one another?
What if unity becomes a compelling force
That binds the Earth to its core,
And compassion remains the lifelong element
That keeps the Universe in motion?
What if the globe was entirely void
of racism, prejudice, discrimination, and partiality;
Where each and every human was afforded equally the same opportunity
Regardless of their race, sex, ethnicity, culture or nationality?
What if we could finally dwell in a word once dreamed of by Martin Luther King Jr.,
Where "humans will no longer be judged based on the color of their skin, but by the contents of their character"?
There is an extreme power in these questions!
But what if they were a reality, can you imagine what we could all achieve?
What if you allow that imagination to create pictures of transformations?
What if you act stepwise from these unceasing questions,
And give it a chance to become a momentous action,
To make this Planet a better Creation?
Gregory
You made yesterdays news, invoking fears
You were found on the streets
Discarded and left to die alone
Thrown away like a piece of garbage with little thought
An inconvenience, as you struggled for your life
So many questions and no answers….
Your thoughts were dark and twisted and not appropriate
You did not fit the mould
Opportunities wasted as you oared against the current
The river washed you out and you choked to breathe
Your thoughts were numbed by substances
Chemicals that took away your sanity
Robbed you of your family and your home
Left your mother with a broken heart and tortured soul, struggling with forgiveness
Your father fought his own demons just long enough to remember your life
And then fall back into the abyss and darkness and forgottenness
Your friends cried as they thought of you.
Their scarred faces and souls with their big crosses around their necks
Their tattooed and tattered young zombie bodies
With their vacant eyes that bore too much pain to contain
Thin and remorseful souls
with the tears that fell down their cheeks like rain
They loved you, you were a good friend!
It was said you would give the shirt off your back for a friend
Your first love wondered how she could have helped?
Your grandfather has lived too long to see this day
One more funeral in his 88 years
A reminder of his son of 17 that was also discarded.
Your brother tried to honour and play his guitar that you gave him
Tears were shed
Beautiful memories shared and kind words spoken
A life too young
Fell beneath the caverns of a broken world
Aunts write poetry to make sense of it all, desperately writing to keep your memory alive
Unspoken grief all around with nowhere to go
One more forgotten victim of an epidemic
Bi-polar they said
Addicted they said
As they sat in their offices high above the streets away from it all
Making policies to keep you safe.
Safe injection sights to shoot poison to your veins
And kitchens with large pots of soup to sustain you until your imminent death
The great unravelling of a generation
You were loved by many
You were a beautiful soul, a good friend, son, brother, cousin
A beautiful child with big brown eyes and so much promise
Gregory always remembered
Rest peacefully sweet soul…
Grace Daub August 25, 2021 written after my nephew’s untimely death- homeless and on the streets
In Nineteen ninety-six, our son and wife, Majors
In US Army, moved to Izmir, their new base.
As usual, whatever place they were assigned,
We flew to visit them as well as dear grandkids.
So off we went to spend two weeks in Turkey, this
Outstanding country we had never been before.
So much to see at Ephesus—Metropolis
Of Antique Age; The Stadium, the Harbor Bath,
Basilica, the Marble Road, Heracles Gate—
All ruins now. Were sad to see these wondrous works
Of art and architecture now in disarray
And strewn about on fields on which they proudly stood.
Of varied striking sites in Pergamon, we saw
The City Walls, the Aqueducts, Acropolis,
The Temple Dionysus, that of Trajan too.
So many ages, periods had ruled this place,
Artistic wonders, structures turned to ruins—works
Of Persian, Greek, Roman and more, in pieces lay.
Besides the many ancient ruins visited,
We were amazed that many locals spoke our tongue.
They did their best to make us feel so much at ease,
Were gracious in combined Mid-Eastern/Euro style
Of hospitality and types of food they ate
And served, like cheese, tomatoes, olives of all kinds.
Izmir, a city mixed with culture old and new,
Like modern shops and open markets, outdoor stands
With fish and meats on ice, yet weighed on modern scales.
And women with fine bread on plates held up on heads,
Who walked the streets in morning, dressed in peasant garb;
Yet working business women wore more modern dress.
We ventured to the famous city, Istanbul,
Surprised to see the many high-rise buildings there,
And streets so overcrowded with their vehicles;
Large offices and business centers everywhere—
Ladies with fashion boots, purses and western dress;
Big contrast with those living back in country hills.
Such history surrounds this ancient, distant land;
So many varied cultures ruled their sacred world.
Museums filled with artifacts from centuries,
Safeguarded and in view to honor and behold.
This trip shall always hold such special, vivid thoughts
For us to cherish and remember for all time.
Of course, this one-time trip was many years ago;
We're happy we had ventured then instead of now,
For times have changed; such unrest grows within our world.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Memorable Vacations
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Judged: May 8, 2015
Iambic Hexameter
How can we not have this conversation
where footprints of the poor vanish
beneath the boots of investors,
and the river sings only
to those who can afford its luxury?
In Chobe, the elephants roam free,
but people walk caged in poverty.
We call it coexistence
when tusks are protected,
but mothers bury their sons
gored near neglected kraals.
And no one comes
unless it's a game drive
and the victim is not black.
How can we not speak
when the lion's roar is louder
than a widow's cry for compensation?
When leopards eat goats
and ministries write reports not cheques?
Let's talk about the five-star smiles
that greet foreign tongues
while the Batswana mop floors, serve beer, and sleep on concrete after ten-hour shifts.
Let's talk about uniforms and pay slips
that smell like servitude,
contracts folded into silence
in offices lined with antelope heads.
And let's speak of the racism
how a Black woman was shot by a white woman
who said, "I thought it was a monkey."
As if her body was a silhouette of threat.
As if Blackness is always a blur
on the edge of someone else's comfort.
The river bore witness, but the law shrugged,
and headlines softened the bullet.
Let's talk of fishermen
banished from their birthright,
told their canoes spoil the view,
that their laughter scares the tourists,
that their presence is pollution.
Let's speak of lodge owners
who toss insults like breadcrumbs
to those who clean their sheets
lazy, slow, replaceable.
No chains, but contracts.
No slurs, just smiles
with knives beneath them.
We cannot be quiet
when the sun sets
behind lodges built on lies,
and the river is fenced
not for safety, but exclusion.
How can we not speak
of the politics of permits,
where land is leased
like livestock,
and council seats are auctioned
to the highest foreign bidder?
Corruption blooms like water hyacinth,
choking life from the roots
of communal trust.
The sand knows.
The baobabs know.
Even the crocodiles know
how long we've swallowed
our own tongues
to protect the myth of peace.
So let us talk.
Let us gather in the heat
of midday truth,
where no luxury air-con hums.
Let us speak until the sky listens,
until justice stalks this land
as fiercely as the wild.
Because silence, here,
is complicity.
And we have been quiet
for far too long.
Form:
A note to all the new parents of special needs babies?
Hello New Mom,
Congratulations, you are now part of a world where there is exquisite beauty.
Along with that beauty will come a hardship few can expound on. You are in the circle of a chosen few..... who become the warriors.
You will see and hear challenges you have not heard of.
You will beam with joy at the most basic skills accomplished. You will be the biggest fan EVER .
Your love for your child will endure you through all the tasks ahead.
You will be holding your breath without even knowing it and break into tears at the drop of the hat. You will think you just can't do it..but somehow you will find it in you to continue.
You will see your other children step up and advocate for their sibling and be better off because of it.
Your other children will astound you with their love and patience.
You will see the worst in humanity with stares and unkind words spoken and although it's extremely painful you will learn to push through at those times.
You will be their advocate forever.
You will be the fierce mama bear ready to swipe your claws at anyone who says "No" it just can't be done.
Each miniscule accomplishment your child masters is your accomplishment too.
The gentle pureness and childlike ways of your child will make your heart sing with joy.
You will get to know names of specialists like endocrinologist and speech pathologists and be waiting in Doctor offices more than you will want to.
You will learn of orthotics and how to use them.
You will become a Physical therapist and a Occupational therapist without the degree.
You will know that " failure to thrive" isn't so scary and you will learn to feed your child through tubes if it has to be done.
You will learn to depend on all the therapists and Special Ed. Teachers and learn to love them like your family.
You will learn along with your child.
You will know sadness and loneliness of a parent of a special needs child.
You will learn that there is a vast storage of knowledge and love and understanding with the seasoned parents.
Befriend them, join Facebook forums they are your support. Theses groups are strong because they hold each other up.
You will know love so deep and pure it amazes you.
You will become a proud parent and warrior of the most gentle soul you will ever have the honor to call your child.
Stuff your rock stars, your heros, your christs,
your anti-christs and anarchiests.
Stuff your false idols up your ****.
Stuff your regenerative ramblings;
the spiel of a million others
spilt in diluted misunderstanding.
The generic rhetoric of another blank generation.
Born under the yoke of fashion not fascism
we walk a happy middle ground smiling contentedly.
Raised, sightless, in the sickly glow
of TV screens and neon lights.
Suckled by the fast food empires
and the bloodied abattoir's's carcasses.
Supping the milk of human blindness
with the blood of fallen beasts.
Schooled in paranoia and conformity
through magazines and film.
Body over brain! Body over brain!
Don't feed either if you want to fit in
to society or size sixteen jeans.
Passive skeletal expectancies rule over all.
We are over-looked and yet watched over;
Monitored through cameras and stolen information,
watched on screens by perverts and bigots
watched for signs of difference and dissent:
word gets around and gets arrested.
Incarcerated. Gone inside. Turned inside out.
I have always relied upon the kindness of strangers.
Spayed to the point of mental impotence:
no longer threatening. Hope is dead.
Driven as slaves into factories, offices, banks,
working to gain enough to "buy" what is already ours:
ownership as proof of existence.
I consume therefore I am.
Ownership of possessions and of people.
Taught to repress desire, to plough the rut of our parents.
Mate Spawn and Die.
Breeders laugh in mock pleasure behind picket fences.
There is safety for us all in our collective clichés.
The pursuit of pleasure becomes confused
through labour and labour saving devices
then drowned in alcohol and soap.
Happiness becomes vague comfort and escape:
Ignorance is bliss and bliss is easy.
Pre-packaged rebellion under state supervision
rattling shackles and throwing toys from prams.
Socilalists singing sweet songs of false hopes
an alternative repressive ownership,
punks so bereft of individuality repeat to infinity
even the intelligent ones just want to be another dick.
All grow old and sick together
having furthered the species and the empire,
return to the organic matter from whence we came
or perhaps ground up and fed to the pork and beef
down at Old (Ronald) McDonald's farm that we all love so much........stuffed
Form:
Vicks Mentholatum. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
I sometimes open the jar and stick my nose in for a little smell
Which turns into a big smell, a little on my nose, some around my
Neck, and finally I beg my husband to slather it on my back while
I saturate my chest with it.
This smell loves me, calms me, and nurtures me like no other.
I probably spent the first ten years of my life slathered like this,
It brings back memories of mother, warm cocoa, soft scarves, and books.
Nothing opens my soul up faster than Native American flute music. It brings
out my wolf wild side. I want to run to a cliff and howl at the moon. It takes
me instantly to Sedona vacations, turquoise jewelry, kachina dolls, bringing the
American Southwest into my heart, and healing the sad places.
Almost everything I see delights me – shiny things, natural things, new things. But the thing that makes my heart sing the fastest is the sight of my grandchildren. Any one of them. I have ten, and it does not matter which one is coming toward me. There is a surge of happiness that leaps through me in a boundless joyful way that cannot be described. It is a craziness that must be lived and felt.
Beans will be the death of me. My favorite tastes all include beans. It is a toss-up which one
I like the most – jalapeno peppers stirred in refried beans, barbequed beans, kidney beans, pork and beans, and ham and beans. I salivate when I think of any of these. It is a spontaneous reaction that I have never been able to quell. When I was a child we ate lots of beans, so maybe that is where this is coming from. I have no idea. But I know these are my favorite meals. I am a cheap date.
What do I not like to touch? The list is tiny. I am a tactile learner. To teach me, you have to let me grab it, shake it, spin it, toss it, catch it, and rub it. I touch wallpaper, woodwork, and metal file cabinets in offices. I touch ants, rocks, flowers, grasses. I hug trees. I hug people. I am a professional toucher.
Possibly my favorite touch is warm, sudsy bath water after a trying day. I immerse myself, washing off sadness and disappointment, thinking of the Vicks Mentholatum which I will slather on when I get out.
Written: July 27, 2018
Entered: My 5 Senses Contest Sponsor: Viv Wigley
Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Confederate Flag
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: July/2015
O'Dirty South,.....U'Dirty South
your hatred, and storied history - is sadly
legendary-
Antebellum South, Your staunch
racist beliefs was in place, long before
the honourable General Robert E. Lee,
raised the Confederate Flag, in the battle
between the States -
Since the Civil War, your, "Stars and Bars,"
has flown over the worst of times
In America -
As recent a time, in Georgia,
North Carolina, and South Carolina,
where seven black churches burned down
to the ground -
Nine worshiper's were killed in
South Carolina, and the Confederate flag
was flown -
The White House, is looking into the
"on-going," black church burning epidemic.
Meanwhile, the deep, and deadly wounds
of my people, stains the Confederate flag-
My ancestors blood, is the RED
that covers the dirty "Symbol Of Southern
Pride."
Yet, to this day, it still fly's over most
State buildings, and in offices, in the Dirty South -
It have flown:
Over slaves on Southern
plantations -
It have flown:
Over
the lynching of blacks -
It have flown:
Over
the burning of black
body's;
cremated in public squares -
It have flown:
In restaurants, rest rooms,
and public water fountains-
It was flown
by an Ally of confederate's, who was willing to die in defence of Slavery's abolishment -
When the South seceded from the Union, all HELL broke loose, and the Confederate Flag, was born -
It
was the
Symbol
of
Treason -
and
A "Battle Flag"
for
Hate crimes
against
black people -
That flag, still fly's high today; through the
smoke, and ashes of black churches, burning down
all over the South - past and present.
Even now, The KKK, Ayran Faction, and
skinheads, all raise the confederate flag,
to honour White Power, and White Supremacy -
America, its been one hundred, and fifty five
years since the Civil War - it's way past time to put
an end to bigotry and racism.
Let your voice's be heard, the Confederate Flag,
should never be raised again, not now, not ever -
Conceited clericalism is encroaching scientific study and educational exploration, obdurate obscurantism engulfing people's normal mentality and judgment, ramrod racism routing ethnic equality and melting harmony~~~~~~
After 4 years of punk-sunk domestic complexion and skunk-drunk diplomatic stance under that frustrating and even facetious leadership, nothing meritorious had been left except for an unprecedentedly nationwide antagonistic atmosphere, an utterly disaffected alliance climate, a half-botched eyesore slouchy at the southern border flaunting its segregating strength on a derisorily slipshod base and a Covid death toll higher than that caused by world war 2.
Whatever disorder, discomfiture, disgrace and disruption he had brought, it was up to none other than the belated ballot to bring him down for want of any other alternatives effectual enough to invoke. It had certainly been shameful enough to etch the annals to have that pus-grubber holding a full 4-year term who had been out-and-out treasonable, unscrupulous, narcissistic and almost every moment fixated on a peculiar sense of holding court rather than holding duty. But even as he was about to step down perforce, the mind-boggling moxie of his moribund melodrama was still stepping up. Seeing an election result rolling out against him, he started to roar, roll and rattle all around together with his minions, inundating quite some states' litigation offices with dozens of sloppy suits only to be drained up by one identical whitewash from go to whoa in their totally failed attempts to turn the table. After the electoral college's confirmation in Dec.14, his nearest followers gradually got to rest disheartened, that doom-diver still remained restless in his mug's game, without the least care or concern over state affaires, day and night phoning and wiring to different executive departments, law enforcements and gubernatorial offices his pissing and moaning about so-called his opponent's cheating evidences and his stolen scores as if nothing but an immediate reversal of the result could meet the real justice. As the whole world stopped to watch how the dead cat bounce during his remnant continuance, a big deal did be bounced out.
The option is depressing
Legal actions so arrested
the Mann
In the office was placed there by an all white caucus
Political ups and downs
Little children and small ghetto towns
the Mann
People have no word cuz you see the man make sure they're never heard
Oh, brother why do you cry
Mother there's no need to close your little brown eyes
Just because your sons and Vietnam
I'm sure he'll soon will you be back home
President Nixon will be soon to go to Russia
Little children beware or he'll bust you
What's the new deal I degrading McGovern repeals government seals
a man in the office
Was placed there I all white caucus
The Wallace shootings
Alabama's bruton's
the Mann
Just like the Kennedys Brothers and Dr King
All 4 of them, they had a dream
Just what am I trying to say
the Mann
Is in the black suit
He's passing bills so absolute
Congress that man make sure they're not hurt
the Mann
Shirley should decline on Muskie
He too is far behind
And Humphrey runs a close second
While mixing them McGovern run as close elected
the Mann
Who will be number one
Who will stop the war
And withdraw the guns
Nixon by November make a last withdrawal
We will be on a kind of Capitol Hill McGovern say marijuana's against the law
Wallace said busing when Weighing on his votes
And Shirley's running is a political joke
the Mann
Who will be number one
Who will stop the war and withdraw the guns crimes on the real the real thiefs
are real the Mann and other political bosses whose voice is back by guns it's the Mann trying to run to stop us
Edward Kennedy should he run I wonder
If even the lost the last of the Kennedys
Can't survive guns Thunder
And if you're really is my friend
--they were to run for president the world's coming to an end
the Man's in the office
Was placed there by an all-white caucus
the Mann
The option is depressing
Legal actions so arresting
the Mann
The offices was placed there by an all-white caucus
Run up and down little children
And small ghetto towns
The people have no word cuz you see the Mann
make sure
That they're not heard
7/21/74
Written word by James Edward Lee 1974, 2019