Long Patronized Poems

Long Patronized Poems. Below are the most popular long Patronized by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Patronized poems by poem length and keyword.


Even If

If in the past you had patronized 
the sandwich shop where I once 
worked baking every loaf of bread 
or the pharmacy where I arranged 
each product neatly on the shelves 
answering customers' questions
standing for nearly nine hours each shift 
on cement floors in cheap dollar store shoes 
with holes worn in their poorly padded soles
paid poverty wages in exchange for my efforts
I would have greeted you with a warm smile 
and a happy hello asking how I could help you 
as I always did when anyone entered
no matter who they happened to be
Of course I would have recognized you
but I'm not the sort to behave unprofessionally 
Even if you had believed me to be the most
beautiful woman you had ever seen and
we had struck up a conversation discovering 
we had too many interests in common to count
after I'd made your sandwich to sate your hunger
or found exactly what you were looking for
you would have simply thanked me 
and paid the bill before walking out the door 
Nothing more


Premium Member Flowers Blooming Everywhere

I tiptoed through the tulips
And leapt over the lavender bed
I covered the ground in red rose petals
And laid out a picnic spread
I winked at the Black Eyed Susans
And flirted with the buttercups
I sipped my glass of dandelion wine
As my eyes drank all the beauty up

I patronized the pansies
And was mesmerized by marigolds
I assembled all the azaleas
Into my memory portfolio
I borrowed from the begonia
Her bouquet of wondrous smells
And listened for the tinkling
Of little silverbells

I was dazzled by the daffodils
Enjoying every one of them
And couldn’t take my eyes off
Of the blooming geranium
I snapped pictures of petunias
And was patient with the impatiens
I love the lily of the valley
Not to would be a sin

The garden is my canvas
Springtime her coming out
My favorite time of year
Of that there is no doubt


written and posted on 4/5/2012
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

the bride of fortune

The bride of fortune

to be an uni- polar power is like being the bride
and resent the uppity of bridesmaids 
she wanted her wedding to be remembered 
no one could equal
and her democracy is the the bride that has
become domineering, not let in the bridesmaid
not even getting married if she thought her
rule was somewhat diminished
her attitude causes friction, they want to leave 
to go find their own happiness 
this include miss Russia who in the nineties was 
a downtrodden maid, much patronized, made
fun of and dismissed.
Surprised when out of the shadows grew  and
demanded an equal place on the in the beauty
contest, where woman in a cowboy hat ruled 
but this domineering woman had grow  aged 
the woman in the cowboy hat, knew miss
Russia had to be subdued rapidly and set out
to ruin her reputation to preserve her hegemon 
she said was a gift from god and the Christianity
based on the New Testament, the white god who
loves mis America and the people at the wedding 
a subdued Miss Russia would be allowed to exit
as junior partner if she helped to catch 
miss China whose beauty was fabulous not seen
for two thousand years   
The woman in the cowboy hat could once more
be the belle of the ball
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Picture Perfect - For Contest

Picture Perfect

She exuded a vindictive pride -
not frightened – not fortunate.
She would bathe in the amazing ritual -
opening night.  All eyes, all attention,
focused on her.  She would arise – victorious.
Critics reviews a sweet prelude to a vision.
Her presence would beguile millions.

The awakening was awful.
The vicious betrayal of a dimming corridor,
finding herself alone in a darkened corner.
Life’s gruesome, oval moon,
depressions grim monolith,
patronized by the annoyingly delightful,
opaque interpretations
of jaundiced museum goers. 


7/13/2016

Make a Poem #2
sponsor – Shadow Hamilton

21 words to be used in poem

awful, amazing, annoying
grim, gruesome, delightful
frightened, fortunate, finding
monolith, moon, museum
oval, opaque, opening
patronize, pride, prelude
vicious, vindictive, victorious

Slavery Or Exploitation

This poem is not meant to be a speech nor is it written to offend or give anyone blame.
It just a mere observation of how today leaders choose to bring civilasation back into the slave trade.

What a confusion of misconception when one term is mistaken in conversation.
Horrors of slavery now waterdowned for modernization.

Underpaid abuse workers identified as no different from mass excavation from African nations.
How can slavery still exist when slaves broke the law back then.

And now modern slaves can use the law to protect them 
Still we debate how to eradicate slavery.

Without the admittance of our desrire for more for less
Still we debate, but not on how propaganda can work for our interest.

How can shackles and chains, branded and slained
Be compared to smuggle and threatened, low pay and mistreated.

Imagine generations of babies born into slavery with no prospect of ever knowing anything different
Imagine seeking refuge, better life but being tricked into cheap labour.

Absolute sub human bondage that we wont tolerate for our wildest of wildlife
Force to work long hours with minimum pay so stakeholders can get their share.

Cotton picker slaves, plantation slaves, breeding slaves, game slaves under institutions designed to seek maximum gained whilst inflicting maximum pain.
Started out  seeking refuge and a better life but conned into taking a different path of trouble and strife.

Sold to the highest bidder in auction houses, record kept for compensation and ownership.
Smuggle underground,whilst living next door in total hardship.

Nowadays, topic,how to end modern day slavery.
Back then was how to universaly enforce it.

Nowadays slavery,redemption and even compensation.
Back then not even criminalization only normalisation.

Slavery means seveitude multiply by desititute then magnify it by four hundred years equals privileges with blood stain riches.
Exploitations means, starting with gratitude trick into solitude minus Non Gratis equals affordability without resposibility.

Please stop trying to rewrite history with mystery 
Inorder to patronized your higher devious morality.


The Brown Bear

The brown bear


During Yeltsin years when he sold Russia down the river
People in the west loved the brown bear
we patronized the Russian as vodka swilling village idiots.
The cuddly bear died, and a steely-eyed fox to the helm
and the Russians was no longer cuddly.
The Russian federation was no longer willing to play
the game ascribed by the western press no longer willing
to be pushed around and laughed at.
Putin, the fox, turned Russia into a modern state that has
a modern army that is powerful if stirred by the west.
Russia wants peace but does not like the encroachment 
by NATO/US, that is like Indians in western movies
encircling the wagons.
Putin, president of Russia, vilified by the western media
 and the EU, ain’t forgiving
even the capitalists know this and stalk carefully.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

The Value of Reading

"The Value of Reading"

messages impressed
upon the secret keepers.
when is late too late?
to divulge the truth?

"I know this is a shock"
arrives far too late 
when it is anticipated
by the writer pundit 

keeping tabs
on runnaway horses 
trained at the gate
tokens laid for bets.

what then sister?
if all should go awry?
the next caller phones 
and relays, it is you,  

so-and-so, who has 
passed away today,
chemo didn’t save 
the day.

"I know this is a shock,"
the other says, 
"Love you, call me
when you want,"
 
breezily relayed

"here if you need,
call me 
when you want";
but you, so-and-so 

are already gone.
cruel deception 
closed doors
on all that was 

once close, 
always true, forever
standing ground,
turned away. 

betrayal keeps close
its cruel deceits
for untrue stories
buried deep.

cruel keeper of secrets
what cloistered 
confessional opens
its sorry doors?

to understand 
you, the you 
who utterly 
shamed and ignored.

LOVE 
delivers
the
the truth
without delay.

Christmases, 
Easters,
graduations,
birthdays, 

two lives, 

adequately 
destroyed
r.i.p.
today.

cloudy 
messages 
adroitly 
employed:

LOVE 
came, 
it considered all,
not once did it turn

away.

(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)





"I will not adopt that ungenerous and impolitic custom so common with novel-writers, of degrading by their contemptuous censure the very performances, to the number of which they are themselves adding—joining with their greatest enemies in bestowing the harshest epithets on such works, and scarcely ever permitting them to be read by their own heroine, who, if she accidentally take up a novel, is sure to turn over its insipid pages with disgust. Alas! If the heroine of one novel be not patronized by the heroine of another, from whom can she expect protection and regard? I cannot approve of it."











betrayal, lies, deceit, trust, books, death, loss, mirror, silence, sister, love
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Truth

Since time’s distant dawn 
Men have told lies 
Calling it truth 
The facts, patronized. 
But truth doth not jest 
It is what it is 
It’s the brim on a hat, 
It’s a bride’s wedding dress. 
  
Revered in our lives 
Honest men we respect 
For uttering truths 
We’ve all come to expect. 
Yet lies now made vogue 
Scatter truth like the birds 
And no handshake will do 
To shore up men’s words. 
  
So do well to respect 
The integrity of sleuth 
Pinpointing all lies 
Shining light on untruth. 
Just recall the pure facts 
As they actually occurred
Lies have no one's back 
And in the end
Only truth is remembered.

© Michael Wegman, 2014
Form: Rhyme

A Bleeding World

Visual chaos runs havoc in a weeping world,
echoes of screaming pain in my bleeding words.
The ocean is made from nothing but tears,
a reflection of the fears we hold and self worth.
The stars are slowly fading away into darkness,
love is dying as everybody is becoming heartless.
It seems evil is free to roam in every path,
could we imagine exactly what the stars felt?
We live our lives on hope; an article now lost,
everything we ever once had is now gone.
Faith and belief are becoming nothing but myths,
and dead are now the dreams we had of bliss.
My pen is hurting at the tip leaking drops of blood ink,
silent screams I can hear synonymous to what i think.
Truth has become what we feared as nightmares,
and yet unaware we remain of what the shadow brings.
I'm lyrically paralyzed when they physically analyze,
Individually agonized as my syllables detect paradise.
We sit back as we watch the world being visibly vandalized,
And how the seekers of truth are ridiculously patronized.
The winds whisper the secrets of life we never found,
The sins linger with the sight of hell and it's sound.
We have lost this war against the creeping shadows,
and are consumed by our thoughts and our doubts.
Form: Acrostic

deafferent views

The opposite view

 Unipolar power is like being the bride
and resent the uppity of bridesmaids 
she wanted her wedding to be remembered 
no one can equal
Her democracy is the bride that has
become domineering and  not let in
the bridesmaid
Not even getting married if she thought her
the rule was somewhat diminished
Her attitude causes friction; others wanted 
 to leave to go find their own happiness 
This includes Miss Russia who was 
a downtrodden maid, much patronized, made
the fun of and dismissed.
Surprised, we were when out of the shadows
grew  and demanded an equal place on the in 
the beauty contest, where women in cowboy
hat ruled 
but the domineering woman had to grow and
the woman in the cowboy hat
knew Miss Russia had to be subdued rapidly
and set out to ruin her reputation to preserve
her hegemon, she said, was a gift from God 
the white deity who loves Miss America 
The people at the wedding 
a subdued, Miss Russia would be allowed 
to exit as a junior partner if she helped to catch 
miss China, whose beauty was fabulous
not seen for two thousand years   
The woman in the cowboy hat could once more
be the belle of the ball
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace