Long Peoples Poems
Long Peoples Poems. Below are the most popular long Peoples by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Peoples poems by poem length and keyword.
look at me, what do you see, look at me
when I look at you, I see a pinkish looking person
but you prefer to be called white
I see you for all that you are, and all that you endeavor to be
look at me
when you look at me you see a black person
but you prefer to say that you see no color at all
look at me
when you say that you see no color at all, your saying that I do not exist
look at me
your degrading me and trying to make me feel insignificant
not worthy of you even saying that you see me for the black woman that I am
look at me
for I am someone with so many good qualities to offer my community
look at me
with a smile on your face, you call yourself my friend
"yes my friend" you know exactly who I am
for the blood that runs through your veins also runs through mine
look at me, what do you see, look at me
I am the Great granddaughter of mother Afrika!
look at me, what do you see, look at me
I am the Great granddaughter of the first peoples of the Americas!
look at me, what do you see, look at me
I am the Great granddaughter of the European slave owners!
look at me, what do you see, look at me
I embrace all that I am, for I know who I am
The roses of September the first
They know the dance is almost over
Slowly the life shall bleed from the stem
Beauty shall wilt
The winds shall blow away the memories
Bagpipers four deep and six long
Shall march upon botanical grounds
In remembrance of those brave souls long ago
Stoic the march, the notes lingering in the air
Falling on the deaf ears, of the already departed
Two swords laid as the cross
Highland dances of youth,
Old photographs lieing burned in the trash
Marching forth, to old peoples applause
They march towards their own death
Overlook there, over the sea, look closer
Shall you see the dust that covers me?
Twenty four reasons to die
Yet here I am on the twenty fifth
Wishing for only one
All nations and peoples sharing , Living in a peaceful world
Your breed or the creed we don't care , Living in a peaceful world
Arms around a world , nations united friends reunited
Let peace pipes play out a fanfare, Living in a peaceful world
March arm in arm , war drums silenced by a crying babe in arms
Politician's ignored beware, Living in a peaceful world
Raise your voices in song let's give peace a chance Lennon once said
Stand up to violence four square, Living in a peaceful world
I only wish to leave my name Stephen no grieving victims
Nothing should come near or compare , Living in a peaceful world
comp entry 11/03/2016
For several thousands of years
you upheld the sacredness of Nature
avoiding wanton destruction
of plant and animal life
taking only what you needed
since their sacredness was
just as important to you
as the sacredness of humanity
When harvesting wild rice for food
you let some fall into the water
to produce crops for the future
Surrounding a pack of wild sheep
while hunting in the mountains
you let a male and female escape
so by their reproductive process
they would ensure the
continuation of their species
You saw yourself as part of Nature
living in harmony with it
and not plundering it with greed
Your religion was to respect Nature
viewing all plants and animals
as parts of its magnificent fabric
Abuse of a part of it was
an abuse of the whole
Your way of life
provides valuable lessons
that can teach mankind how
to deal with today's ecological crisis
that threatens the survival
of all life on the planet
You were the genuine
Guardian of the Environment
I have always admired the way of life of the Native American Indians living in harmony with Nature before the advent of the Europeans. By extension, this applies to all indigenous peoples including the Amerindians and Polynesians. This piece is dedicated to them.
He decided organic matter could increase his
overall objectives. he would dig deep holes
fill them with straw and horse manure
in a 600 square foot section measured.
In each corner a large hole filled
with manure. in the center he would dig a hole fill it
with straw and horse manure such then would be
the sounding function to starting
a new garden.
a Culverts in culvert system was developed
to tackle the scarcity of water problem.
it looked like something someone would use
to describe an alien ship.
Deepest in the center an circle with
pie like dividers that lead center.
filled and lined.
The lining using heavy duty plastics and
stones
drilled holes in the culvert while
the exterior culvert stands to create the well effect
needed to calculate and store waters.Omukazi Pima orikushemeza
"Art is art, nature is nature you cannot improve upon it ...
Pictures should be inspired by nature but made of the soul
of the artist. It is the soul of the individual that counts."
_ Emily Carr, Canadian Artist and Author, 1817 - 1945
_____________________
March is International Women's Month and I salute all women who
have made a difference in the world. You are an inspiration for
all women to strife to be. I would like to highlight one woman
who has inspired my art, photography and writing, and
her name is Emily Carr, a Canadian Icon, Artist and Author.
Emily was born in 1817, in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada.
She has been described as Canada's Van Gogh. She embraced
a modern style of art inspired by Indigenous Peoples and forests.
Studied in art schools in San Francisco, London and Paris.
She returned to Canada in 1911 and embraced painting the grandeur
of forests, quaint villages, and Indigenous peoples and so much more.
Her art was not accepted at the time, but was rediscovered in 1927
with an exhibit at the National Art Gallery in Ottawa, Canada. She
got the attention she deserved. She had bad health in her later years
that prevented her from painting so she wrote, she wrote many books
and she was a good writer. Received the Governor General Literary
Award. In 1971 a stamp was issued to honor her. There is an
Emily Carr University of Art and Design, Public Library, and schools
named after her all across Canada. Emily died in 1945, but lives on .
"Something has called out somewhere
and something in me is trying to answer."
_ Emily Carr
________________________
March 27, 2022
Poetry/Ode/Canadian Icon, Emily Carr
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1443-780-27
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Tribute to Women
sponsor, Beata Agustin, Judged 04/22/2022
Second Place
The day death will knock to my door
to take me with him
don't repent day and night along
in delirium and lament.
Rather in the way to life which I trodden
the work which I left behind
please do not give it up
keep it in practice, after my end.
The world is crying today
peoples are drowning in grief and sorrow
facing with the inhuman stony heart
please feel them, to go through.
Cruelty has overwhelmed the world
slaves are in under the force
please look aside oh my dear and
be a companion to them of course.
The day death will knock to my door
to take me with him
don't repent day and night along
in delirium and lament.
SHOPPING IN BELFAST (70s Style)
Hundreds of shuffling feet, herded like Cattle, through the big iron gates to the city Centre
Through to the freezing sheltered holding area with its grey block walls and long protruding metal posts which hold up the roof
The wind drives the rain, cold, cold rain, which drums a rhythm on the moss tainted plastic corrugated roof
Handbags and shopping bags are surrendered onto a long line of big wooden tables
Strangers in a dark Blue Uniform with peaked caps and mute expressions search through peoples personal belongings
Then more strangers, seek out men at random, to further search their pockets, collars and hoods
Policemen with Machine guns stand talking in small groups, one nods at me with a reassuring smile
Nervous Young Soldiers grip their Rifles tightly and stare at people with a look of distain
They spot a pretty girl, their glances fixed, their attention momentarily distracted
Eventually we are there. We’re in the city Centre, now mum can trail me round the shops
But wait! All the shops have more strangers in blue uniforms searching people and bags
So much time being checked, even as a six year old, it makes you wonder if there's enough time left to shop
Thoroughly searched and everything bought, out of the shops,feet tired and ready to go home
Now on to the exit gates of the city, a city ringed with a green metal spiked fence, “the ring of steel”
Nobody really wanted to hang around once darkness approached; the Centre wasn't very safe place at night
No point waiting on a bus, the nightly riots where starting so services were suspended again
It's a bit of a trek back home through the dusky, wet rain swept streets, sore feet or not
Then soon, yeahhh, it's our house, some dinner and a bath in front of the fire. Bliss
I have tasted my beloved poets’ Bray
In the three great books of our literature:
"The Book of Good Love," "La Celestina," and "Don Quixote"
As well as in García Lorca's The Ass
Who directed La Barraca
Also Rimbaud, Gide, Apollinaire, Verlaine
Poe, Shakespeare, Chaucer, etc.
Digesting their works
Belching their art and poetry
In gatherings, convents, or schools
In salons, platforms, and athenaeums
Announcing, yes, that these poets matter to me
Useful and appropriate in their verses
Leaving in their books clear evidence
Of their braying talent.
Let it be known and not forgotten
That braying was always their rule
And I venerate it as is right.
Isn't it good to give them what is theirs?
So I do and tell it
Washing my hands with my urine
To reach their Muse
Who had goosebumps
And they, the hide of a new Donkey.
All of them rode on Donkeys
Singing of the extreme love
Of the Donkey for her crop
Or recounting amazing adventures
Of an animal's shin
Of a priest with a friar or a nun.
Or the Song of Songs
Inspired to Solomon by a Donkey
As mentioned in sacred scripture.
Oh, Poets, I praise you
For showing me the way
The true path that is Poetry
In the land of Life
As I venerate Abdon and his Donkeys
Apuleius turned into a Donkey
Jester and his praises of the Donkey
Photius, patriarch, who plagiarized a Donkey
Fond of verse
The Donkeys of Jair of Palestine
Lucian's Donkey
Machiavelli's Donkey
Midas with his Donkey ears
Priapus in his bet with the Donkey
To see which of the two had the better cock
Saint John of the Cross
Jumping over the walls of nunneries
Riding a Donkey
Whore, goddess of the bushes
Who swallowed more than a thousand cocks
Including that of the Donkeys
Silenus and his Donkey
Thartac, god of the Hivites
With a Donkey's head
The Donkey that figures in the Temples.
All peoples, Bray with me
Clap your hands
Because the Donkey is the sublime emperor
Of all the earth
And his braying will always dwell in our houses
Because being a Braying and a Donkey
Is strength.
For generations we’ve been waiting
Lifetimes spent anticipating
Our Messiah, Who will come to set His people free.
We concentrate on preparation
So we’ll be a holy nation
When He comes with power, glory and in majesty.
Wise men, prophets, seers and sages
Spoke to us down through the ages
Of the Lord’s anointed one, destined to be King.
So we wait for His appearing
Knowing that the time is nearing
When He’ll come in majesty and peace will He bring.
Meanwhile, in stable,
In a manger lay a Child.
Sent by God that to Him we may all be reconciled.
And angels sang His praises
For the prophecy’s fulfilled.
God’s peace come down from heaven to all people of goodwill.
From Advent into Christmas
We wait and we prepare.
As did those ancient peoples, we make ourselves aware
Our Savior will be coming
And soon He will be here.
Be diligent in watching for when He will appear.