Long Oscar Poems
Long Oscar Poems. Below are the most popular long Oscar by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Oscar poems by poem length and keyword.
Standing on a billion shoulders,
together we reach great heights.
Proudly, we scream the stories of our lives.
Someone ought to give an Oscar to all of us—
rewarding us for our deeds,
for living the fullest,
for crying the loudest.
The moment we came to Earth,
we all added unique paint,
each one sparkling the world,
the beautiful canvas, in the end,
together we prepared.
We solved the great mysteries of the universe,
dominated infinite fields,
yielded lots of love,
the cheerful Earth we together keep.
We all are artists—
great ones,
evolved the world,
lived through every hail,
studied the magic,
together we sail.
The future holds a different genre.
Climbing the ladder of eight billion Oscars,
they will reach a higher peak,
a more vibrant canvas we'll seek.
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.
Juvenescence shines like the sun’s slow climb
and I see a bird not yet flown its cage,
I hear the footsteps in the march of time -
a journey of self, a coming of age!
Thus you Peter Pan on wings of an elf,
who seeks to fly between far and never,
must now say goodbye to your childish self
and dreams of eternal youth forever.
So fly dear boy, fly and never look back
and richly love the heart and feel the soul -
save close your nobilities lest you lack
for all that you do bears a living toll.
And turn your mind from temptation unsought
with all care and profundity of thought.
Written: March 2015
"Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future"
-Oscar Wilde
Saints aren’t always saints, sinners aren’t always sinners,
freedom comes with a price even when you’re ready-
Life can be a rummage of contending losers and winners,
yet aloof in the assessment of what is worthy or petty.
Saints are also sinners, sinners are also saints,
who are we to separate them from each other?
Many can take advantage of free will, others show restraint,
then just tell me, who are we to judge one another?
Saints can be saints, just as sinners can be sinners,
forget who we are let’s move past this comparison-
It’s like adjudicating who is fat and who is thinner,
when in reality we should all try to be good Samaritans.
There is a fine line between deeming whose better or worse,
after all, weren’t we all created with the choice of free will?
Yes, there is much evil in the world, but also good of course,
yet, society is unfortunately judged upon ineptness and skill.
To fill this world with notions of superiority or of trespassing-
is like saying there is no difference between hell and the everlasting.
October 28, 2016
who knew
sounds like YOU
bravo romeo
you’re at the hotel
whiskey at the bar
and papas doing well
he played two rounds
and his echo said tell
juliet his sweet
that an oscar cost a mill
....get dressed
almost time for the ball
the mr.mc.melon
made a million dollar call
Yankee doodled a candy
November is handy
for remembering
to give our thanks
Fox trotted to the bank
and booked a flight
x-ray vision
wants to dance tonight
charlie says to victor
“i knew she could hear”
just slow to bet
she is a sweet
my dear
i do
i owe you
one kilo
“horse knows the way
to carry a sleigh so it's
off to the 'hood, we go”
the delta is wet
there are beans
in a net
and a play...
is what she swings
;) x.wings.
.
~just for fun
i like to dance
Form:
Remember always Invictus and God
when you stand alone before pharisees -
thus follow the path King and saint have trod
and, son, trust in your own humanities.
Prove incorruptible and heed this wise,
the rule of men are not mighty to save -
their inward ravenings crudely devise
and their only one saving is the grave.
Loved is the divine child young in his days
whose cross to carry is your crown to wear,
whose stamp of nature a quiet strength raise -
cleave to it lest your heart fail you for fear.
Live and love, and rewarded you will be,
else all that becomes you is vanity.
Written: March 2011
Newspapers once were fine, I am convinced.
Since Nixon left the stage to newbie Newsom,
each time I went to open one, I winced.
The policies of Hillary? No chance!
They’ll tell you where her hair is cut and rinsed,
the salsa classes where she goes to dance!
What stock investments will I need to go for,
If Trump gives way, one day, to J.D. Vance?
The papers teach me more about his sofa!
My interest inevitably ebbs.
The suavest slingback and the latest loafer
do not enthral me. Even less, celebs!
Some starlet’s Oscar outfit, voted ‘gruesome’?
What do I care? The same for wifi, webs,
or if some actress has enhanced her bosom.
I sing the praises of Sterilite
(even Mary Poppins would tout
a plug for said company she would spout
forcing playthings scattered helter skelter
retreating into their respective bins
analogous to a defeated army
beating a hasty retreat after a major rout
against all odds fighting off
the aggressive incursion
of a trumpeting lout,
which troops use weapon of choice
namely breath issuing "Kraut"
which in German, "Kraut"
primarily means herb
or the leaves and stem
of a plant, as opposed to the root,
also used in compound nouns
to refer to various cabbage products,
most notably Sauerkraut,
which is fermented white cabbage.
Additionally, "Kraut"
can be a derogatory slang term
for Germans, similar to how "Frogs"
used for the French,
according to The Guardian).
which accolades vocalized
on behalf of a company
whose sturdy products
helped transform the wife
from a potential candidate
of Hoarders buried alive
into a rival for the Odd Couple
neatnik character Felix Unger
though room for improvement
the spouse tries to abide
by the phrase
"a place for everything
and everything in its place"
an idiom that promotes
organization and orderliness,
where maximizing the space
afforded by a one bedroom apartment
here at Highland Manor
taught us the necessity
of maintaining an ever closer approximation
to becoming the reigning queen
of spic and span
affected by the mandates of management
(reinforced by dictates
of urban housing for low income
linkedin to yearly "violations")
toward instilling acquiring
"the model tenant award"
by regular inspections
which if I ruled the world
would include a month of free rent
as an extra incentive
leaving no room
for the likes of Oscar Madison,
which objective becoming
neat and tidy truth be told
finds me relishing living
according to the gospel
of several people offering
decluttering and organization methods
similar to Marie Kondo's KonMari approach,
focusing on simplifying and creating
a more joyful living space.
Some notable figures
include Gretchen Rubin,
known for her
"Outer Order, Inner Calm"
philosophy, and The Home Edit duo,
Clea Shearer and Joanna Teplin,
who emphasize visual organization.
Other methods, like Swedish Death Cleaning
and Peter Walsh's approach,
also offer alternative strategies
for decluttering and organizing one's home.
I needed some storage space so I checked out
The floor underneath the kids’ bed.
It’s a very old bunk but instead of some room,
This is what I encountered instead:
A bag filled with newspapers, all from the date
That announced Mickey Mantle had died;
A plastic container too heavy to lift,
With baseball cards (hundreds!) inside.
From Sesame Street, a stuffed Grover and Bert,
Miss Piggy and Oscar the Grouch,
A Madeline doll and a Raggedy Ann.
(But I swear nothing’s under the couch!)
Several board games and one more big box which contained
Baseballs, batting gloves and souvenirs;
Magazines, ID cards and some photos on which
Someone’s autograph somehow appears.
I moved everything out, tossed some stuff in the trash
But my kids are now in for a treat,
For I’m taking it all to their houses to make
The space under their beds more complete!
(Oscar Wilde wrote that long poem "The Ballad of Reading Gaol" in 1897, quoted here. In it, a man met his death; for some decades the UK has not had the death penalty.)
-----------
Our man’s still here, spent twenty years behind these bars.
and may be here for quite some time to come.
Death is not allowed in jail, even for death,
and yet it was a death he brought about.
She was “The poor dead woman whom he loved
And murdered in her bed”.
Yes, he thinks of Oscar’s words, the words
that talk of “three leathern thongs” that hold a murderer.
He thinks of the rope that would throttle;
he wishes Mr Wilde’s “Ballad” would apply to him.
He wishes for death, wanting to share that of the one he loved.
But he’s been here for twenty years.
He may remain a long, long time. Punishment!
Decades more seem to hold out their arms. Punishment!
He'll be gripped by each decade’s year. Punishment!
Each “year whose days are long”. Punishment!
Oscar’s “Ballad” has long been with him,
a long, long poem he cherishes, takes to his bed,
wishes for that condemned man’s throat,
the rope and thongs the man felt as “he gave that bitter cry”.
That man was given death.
Execution was perhaps reward.
Each had, of course, killed the one he loved.
What is a punishment? Death now, quickly, or life in jail?
(17 Jul 2023)