Long Pauper Poems
Long Pauper Poems. Below are the most popular long Pauper by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pauper poems by poem length and keyword.
A tear spilt in sorrow weights more than one spilt in cheer.
It's easy to make god laugh just tell him your plans for next year.
Always leave people smiling and never leave them in tears
As you never know when death will appear.
Man or woman
black or white
young or old.
Time as no meaning when you are going to die
eternity's just a glint in deaths eye.
There's no pockets in shrouds and nothing to buy.
Pauper or Prince, we all pass by.
Man or woman
black or white
young or old.
Life is for living you only get the one go.
It's for drinking bottles of vintage Bordeaux.
Making angels in the snow.
Visiting Santa in his grotto at the ripe old age of 42.
Man or woman
black or white
young or old.
LIVE LIFE .
Enea's Pope! (2)
I suppose it’s common knowledge
(and not tedious, I hope!)
that two-thirds of the Sacred College
must concur to elect a pope.
With eighteen cardinals gathered,
twelve was the number to get.
They were nervous, preoccupied, lathered,
for there was no favourite yet.
Day One turned out quite indecisive,
Calindrini accomplishing five:
Enea’s vote, far from derisive –
his five kept his prospects alive.
D’Estouteville’s position was healthy,
and he lobbied for all he was worth.
It helped to be fabulously wealthy,
and promise the voters the earth.
“I don’t want to sound like a critic,”
(thus whispered d’Estouteville in private)
“but look at him – pauper, arthritic.
There’s something you need? I’ll contrive it.”
The gist of the cardinal’s sermon
was that Enea worshipped Apollo,
and was anyway almost a German,
dire consequences were certain follow.
A cardinals’ caucus at midnight
convoked by the frenchified faction
made it seem that the tertium quid might
take a piece of the Rouenais action.
D’Estouteville himself was a teller
when they voted the very next day:
they’d do better to pick Helen Keller –
one of Enea’s votes “went astray”.
Now Enea’s on nine votes, and leading:
a silence descends on the throng.
D’Estouteville is far from conceding:
this process could well be prolonged.
In silence they sit in the Sistine,
feckless, faineant, forlorn
(the chapel itself is still pristine:
Michelangelo hasn’t been born.)
A shout comes from Borgia (Rodrigo,
that’s Cesare’s father-to-be),
“I’m switching to you, mi amigo!”
That’s one of the necessary three!
And then speaks Tebaldi of Naples:
“I’ll go with Siena as well!”
It’s looking decidedly papal,
as friends of d’Estouteville can tell!
One vote is now all that is needed,
one vote and he’s pontifex max:
one vote and he’s finally succeeded:
one vote is the one thing he lacks!
Colonna gets up from his cushion:
d’Estouteville and chums know the score:
unseemly, the shovin’ and pushin’:
they bundle him out of the door.
The spectacle can’t be called splendid.
“Enea, I’m making you pope!”
The greasy pole’s now been ascended:
It’s time for the slippery slope!
You are what you eat, they say
Or -- You become you work
And hope that your work becomes you
Balderdash, I say! Pure and utter nonsense!
If you like to eat fish, are you then a fish?
If you eat vegetables, do you become one?
If you work as a waiter or as an estimator
Is that what you become?
Does that job define you?
I don't care whether you are a pauper
or a prince, a plumber or a painter
a ping-pong-champ or a poet
Do those things define you?
Are they your essence, your
quintessence, your essential YOU?
Of course they aren't! You are a son, a daughter, a sister,
a brother, a friend, a lover, a spouse, a significant other;
you are a biker, a hiker, a seeker, a speaker, a drinker,
a thinker, a singer, a dancer, a chef, a music lover, and
so much more. And I've hardly begun to define you...
December 21, 2018
Entry in "You are not defined by" poetry contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Liars
Looking and staring
Singing and lofting
So agile and charismatic
All for the essence of the belly.
I've built mansions
And own exotic cars
But in reality a pauper
The honour is just for a moment but expires
He assaulted or raped me
But in reality snubbed a frequent advances
Making an innocent to suffer an unjust cause.
There's nothing done without rewards.
I love you
You own every part of my life
Without you I can't breathe
We're destined to be married
Yet several abortions are gone to your credit.
We serve a living God
And our church was built on the center of the holy spirit
But a corpse was buried as part of the foundation
And several abortions are to the credit of the Pastor.
All have rewards and will soon be made known
Sweet is their voices
That one will have no choice but to buy
Cos they're respected with ovations
As they build Castles in a minute
But in all truth they lack ideas.
Liars don't fade away
But their integrity is zero
Rich and well respected
Yet they have no life.
Come over and hear my plight
How best it is to be truthful?
You may be in want without honour
But you have life
Liars are the prodigals of truth
Whose lives are channelled on their talks
Do they know the Bible?
Hope they'd learned from Ananiah and Saphirah.
7/11/21
Never been the smoothest talker
Got to make the best of it before I need a walker
Had a lot or nothing to offer
Wasn't always worth the bother
4 days a week I work with and help doctors
Occasionally seeing Boxers
She got some knockers
Too many peeps are squawkers
I'm flying sky high inside a saucer
Above waters
With otters
Never been an imposter
Thought I had a chance and how quick I lost her
It's all been testing my dignity and honor
Never been a prince, always been a pauper
An endless battle to prosper
In the end it was or wasn't a shocker
The truth locked behind a locker
Or bouncing around like a ball in soccer
People being respectful or a stalker
In a world full of good intentions and slaughter
Some folks heroes and others monsters
Objects of value and sentiment behind a glass case
A giant rat race
Traveling slow or at a fast pace
Winding up in first or last place
Oh in that case
No wonder the sad face
This all left a bad taste
Good and bad days
Glass crutches in the ashtrays
While going in and out of a vast maze
It's much more than kind of
A big deal if you can't make your mind up
Before time's up
That's why the past and history is there to remind us
Sit around or get out and try stuff
That's for you to decide what
Find out you might hate or like much
I imagine little house on the prairie
(bordering Lake Woebegone),
a place to hang cloak
most bucolic, edenic, idyllic...
apropos place for this poetic cowpoke,
who at present day trumpets
himself as token panhandler
of Perkiomen Valley, a
genteel, gentile, and gentle
Semite with friendly okie doke
demeanor easily mistaken
for dishabille and disheveled drunk,
nonetheless harmlessness, I evoke
espied by any man, woman and child
in these parts predominantly
non kosher festive folk,
(especially at Old Pool Farm
August 16, 17, 18 2019)
quick witted with zealous
wordplay, quips and/or
oy gavalt hexameter innocent joke
adroit, capable, das strict
test electrifyingly
faux gerrymandered,
incredible ventriloquist
nsync with karaoke
reaching within my
rabbinical bag of tricks
succeeding with flying colors
par excellent masterstroke
or sometimes more'n one ministroke
never abracadabra prestidigitation
to insult nor poke
fun at anybody but yours truly,
though even lampooning
self could provoke
unwittingly etiquette revoke
king welcome as town
pauper, inscrutable hobo
(phobic) figure, beggar
pummeled By George with
thoroughly good soak
king courtesy rotten tomatoes
if gibes overly saucy
subsequently shuffling off into sunset
emulating Charlie Chaplin
encountering wealthy patron
as blessed thunderstroke
before getting struck by lightning!
Freudian Slip --- Insight of Lip --- Dane Ann
Gravestone ---Heart- Mark ---Dane Ann
Gall --- Vexing Vixen --- Dane Ann
Happiness --- Bounteous Bliss ---Dane Ann
Hog Sty --- Power Pen --- Dane Ann
Indigent --- Penniless Pauper --- Dane Ann
Insistent --- Relentless Nagging ---Dane Ann
Jerring ---Heartless Heckler --- Dane Ann
Jovial --- Cheery Chirping --- Dane Ann
Sports Nuts --- Crunchy Food, Poetic Mood For All to Read --- Linda-Marie Bariana
Good Vibrations --- Ghostly Groove --- Catie Lindsey
Last Will and Testament --- Dead Bread ---Catie Lindsey
Fine Wine and Spirits --- Wink and Drink ---Catie Lindsey
Agreement --- Words Concurred --- Dane Ann
Argument --- Quite Quarrel --- Dane Ann
Banter --- Chat Wit --- Dane Ann
Care --- Need Heed --- Dane Ann
Conscience --- Scruple Snooper --- Dane Ann
Detective --- Fact Grinder --- Dane Ann
Ducking --- Waddle Quacking --- Dane Ann
Emotional --- Frazzle Dazzled --- Dane Ann
Ship Mate --- Toy Boat --- HG
Gravestone --- Dead Cert. --- Sean Kelly
Broadcaster --- American Female Newscaster --- Sean Kelly
Cold War --- Battle Against Swine Flu ---Sean Kelly
Silicon Valley --- Cleavage, After Breast Enhancement --- Sean Kelly
Hebrew --- Jewish Tea For Men Only --- Sean Kelly
Not content with just penurious loaves
Wretched pauper for richer diet strove
Seeking treasure from a wealthier trove
Delicate crumbs from hearty stoves;
Pungent fruit from well-stocked groves
Poached sustenance frail body did gladly receive
Yet of better fare covetous mind did conceive
Then with guile from gullible hearts lucrative profits deceive
'Til stitched threads a fine, seamless tapestry did weave
O'er time malfeasance with cankering anger did twain
With licentious craft bartered for wanton gain
Still, embittered spirit did all the world ruefully disdain
Tethered to earthly mammon; eternal soul did enchain
Moral, be content with the goods you have
A shriveled piece of bread better than a poached calf
With tendered tissue your festering wants salve
Lest infectious greed spread to heart's valve
Evergreen flavored mantras
did nothing to purge bitter bile from my lips
nor slake the smoldering thirst for a Rosary remedy.
Tick-tock petals unfurled one by one
as your poppy shed its last sepal
releasing a scarlet sigh across sunset skies
whilst I placed a tender kiss upon your twilight.
If but for your gossamer bloom in persimmon perfection,
I would not hunger for your ambrosial whispers
nor rue the earthly drought of undying nectar.
I stray, a waif lost with my armful of loss,
blind behind the tear-rusted folds
of a weeping veil’s eclipse.
My psyche a pauper
rich in the poverty of penniless promises,
empty as echoes in hollow holes
ringing with wringing reverberations.
In the grasp of atheist fingers I clasp Holy beads
tilling cries and whys.
Every tear a sorrow sown in brambles,
whose sloe fails to ripen sweet redemption
in the fertile sham and barren sand of my humanity;
crushed by the tusk of this damnable dusk.
Susan Ashley
April 13, 2020
~ First Place ~
February 5, 2023
2022 Poetry Marathon Qualifiers' FINAL Placement Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 9
Sponsor: Mark Toney
~ Third Place ~
Premiere Contest: Your Best Poem Ever
Sponsor: John Hamilton
~ Seventh Place ~
Premiere Contest: Crushed
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
~ First Place ~
Standard Contest: Your Best Free Verse 2020
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Words are to writers like flowers to bees,
Oil to engines and thank you to please.
They may be as heavy as concrete or lead
Or light as feather and thoughts in our heads.
They may cut like a knife and bite like a snake,
Or purr like a kitten and calm all our aches.
Letters combined in word perfect tense
Lift humanity higher like pauper to prince.
Words are like paint before canvas lay bare
In the hands of the artist, eternity’s there.
Waiting to brush one more story-book tale
From right of nowhere, words take to sail.
With wind from the writer and ink from the pen,
Destinies change for women and men.
From The Iliad and Odyssey to Paine’s Common Sense,
Plato’s Apology to Shelley’s Poetic Defense.
From Genesis to Leviticus and Matthew to St. John,
Aristotle’s Ethics to White’s Trumpet of the Swan.
From the US Constitution to King’s “I Have a Dream,”
Words are to writers as air is to breath.
They transcend human consciousness
And send us well past Mars,
Making movies, plays and music move us
To the moon and stars.
The possibilities are limitless
When words are focused clear;
If one merely stops to think it through:
They’re always waiting near.