Long Permits Poems

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


If It Weren'T For Double Standards

A mob of angry activists
go and deface a public street,
they painted that ‘Black Lives Matter,’
and the mayor said,”That’s fine with me.’
But when someone spoke of baby lives
they would not let them have their say,
when some sought to say ‘Blue Lives Matter,’
the authorities dragged them away.
They’re supposed to serve rights equally,
but only will if you are their thrall,
if it weren’t for double standards
The left would have no standards at all.

Another group of rioters
decided they’re going to trespass,
throw rocks, pull guns, threaten the home,
so the owner arms up mighty fast.
Confronts them with a gun in hand,
to protect his life and his home,
as the law of his state permits,
a well-known and established fact.
Then corrupt D.A.s go charge him,
not the thugs who sought their downfall,
if it weren’t for double standards
the left would have no standards at all.

Then there are the ‘protestors’ themselves
in the midst of a pandemic,
a cess-pool for disease to spread,
but lefty mayors are just fine with it!
As if having a left-wing cause
grants someone an immunity,
we can’t go to churches or school,
but these bastards can riot free?
If you try to counter-protest
they blame you for not heeding their call,
if it weren’t for double standards
the left would have no standards at all.

And I don’t think we can forget
what happened back at Charlottesville,
when the media crowed for weeks
after a young leftist was killed.
But at least thirty people now
dave been killed by the rioters,
Driven by extremist Marxists,
yet the media seems undisturbed.
It fits not the lefty narrative,
so media seems no need to bawl,
if it weren’t for double standards
the left would have no standards at all.

When ANTIFA attacks people’s cars
they get mad when those folks drive through,
when others were dragged out and beaten,
quite openly and in plain view.
They get mad at the fact that these
rioters were declared terrorists,
yet ignore their cities burning down,
they allow these crimes to persist.
Won’t do the jobs they swore to do,
effective action they just stall,
their power means more than your lives,
the left has no standards at all.
Form: Rhyme


Dancing Numbers

Dancing Numbers

Numbers dance in space upon the wall of distant nebulae
Lower digits do the limbo under digit trees on Earth
Produce a number of rumbas in the process
Baby ones and twos run through the branches to learn their steps
In the shade of day they count on memory to forget

Before the dawning of romance
Before attempting trips or splits   
Once set in motion growing 
Numbers never stop                                                       
Figures have no limitations

All numbers should be even 
Or at least equal to themselves
They make their way while 3’s distract 
Straight to the borders of the Cha Cha land
Rhythms follow in their dance and play
           
Shade from the whole numbered trees
Bridges peace from war while quartets practice
The calculus that seems so simply separated
Moves with them in tempo traction on the hollow beat
Served in triple time, on a bed of zero pillow, to sleep beneath

Beyond the cosmic wonders of the numbers
The sum of all their quantum parts
Ones and twos take place; take shape, in string quartets 
Fours are not alike.  None are the same
Tap stepping on the thinnest line of life

Tip toeing to the stars from far behind
The waltz is just a walk in structured measure
In step out there in hand with solid sevens on the edge
Half way to heaven as jazz plays on and on with pleasure
Numerals are merely numbers with another name who also play

Odd figures, outnumbered, outlawed by even ones  
Doing splits, without permits, perfect cascading cadence
Swirling one by one while spinning past the sun
Even ones outlive everyone 
While dancing upon the up above

Other numbers hide with their mistakes 
Tracked down, calculated, counted, after their ballet bows
They have their days cut short in age, then dance no more
Such digits suffer from arithmetic’s and numeric ailments 
Crunch the numbers numb, until the Gangnam dance is done

My Halcyon Days of Childhood

my halcyon days of childhood
                          alas! i feel as lost ecstatic paradise
                             i played under the azure sky 
                    now in no way memory permits to sacrifice

                           i screamed along with my friends
                       my free heart now lies in grave of time
               flawless sound of words are rusted as an old iron bar 
                      in solitude stepping to the valley of mime

                        Oh! my lovely golden days of childhood
                         will you meet me in my old age again
                          when a new rainbow will smile above 
                         ditto feeling will pass through my vein
Form: Rhyme

The Words you will never hear

An apology from the throne will never come close to home
Surrendering at my feet will make you look extra weak;
when night falls and the bats are wandering in the dark
I say not the words that they want to hear but words that brought 
about much fear, the words from a king are not sweet, but should have the villain
come trembling  at his feet, say what your heart permits you to say and not what  the
 Orchestra designed for you to say. The world is at a cross-road and niceties cannot
Turn things around but sober doctrine that will shake the heart and conscience of man
And lead them to the point where they can fully understand. The words you will hear
Are not those that are flying in the air.

Premium Member Best De Tour De Force

Poetry unlike the rest
Poetry I like best
Best as non-fiction
Best as one’s conviction
Conviction of the heart
Conviction comes apart
Apart from others views
Apart from your issues
Issues we must address 
Issues woven to express
Express it in loose term then
Express even if you squirm friend
Friend I listen 
Friend you glisten
Glisten with valor
Glisten with color
Color our world with screams
Color unfurled dreams
Dreams you make come alive
Dreams of a swan dive
Dive deep to your goal
Dive into your soul
Soul mates on paper birch
Soul search 
Search within 
Search for words to pen
Pen despite limits and critics 
Pen as it permits not for cynics
Cynics blind to a poetic jewel
Cynics bitter and cruel
Cruel and hollow
Cruel spirited not to follow
Follow your words
Follow the songbirds
Songbirds protocol
Songbirds call
Call out the façade
Call upon God
God knows your floetry
God gifted your poetry
Poetry forever lives 
Poetry gives and gives
Gives tremendously
Gives us plenty
Plenty will agree
Plenty will see tour de force
Tour de force with symmetry
Tour de force so passionate
Passionate
Symmetry
© I Am Anaya  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Blitz


Premium Member A Woman's Heart

With women the heart argues, not the mind.
MATTHEW ARNOLD, Merope

1. The stand of old growth Melalucas,  graces the lowlands of our farm.
For over fifty years,  accumulations of leaves have formed small soft islands.

“With selective clearing,” my husband says, "larger areas of grassland will grow. 
More grazing for the cows and less hay we’d need  to buy in Winter."

 Inwardly, I lament, not wanting to lose the beauty of these trees
with branches that rise like huge broccoli bunches against bright blue skies. 
My husband, much harder, by necessity, over-rules my sentiments.

2. Conveniently, earth-moving machines appear early on the first day 
of the New Year.  They cut a long swathe
but  on the dam are left a large row,  marked by me,
 for sanctuary.
They cast  reflections on the still water. 

3. The felled trees are piled into rough heaps.  Prophetically, the car 
of the Inspector for Primary Industries appears. 
“You must know, these are protected trees.”  
He asks for permits (not granted) and orders a ‘cease and desist.’ 
His scowling looks are an indictment. 

4. For months the operation was on  hold
and, then the rains came and the floods—almost our undoing. 
Flocks of water-birds  occupied the flats, nesting on the islands
formed by  the grassy hummocks. When these waters receded, 
an overgrowth of young melalucas sprouted, where the old trees 
 had once stood.  A network of roots underground  had signaled
a catastrophe.  New nodes erupted along all the root-ways.
Dumbly they announced their guardianship of the swampy land. 
“Give us back to time,” they said , but the  un-relenting slasher
leveled them again, so  grass could grow. 

 
5. I go back into my house now, secretly pleased the trees are speaking.
The topaz flames from the fireplace, warm my bones. 
The hoary frosts have come.   The envelope containing the D P I’s 
decision waits on the mantel shelf, propped by a row of grazing, ceramic cows.
 From the window I see our cows enter between the Melalucas.
They graze on the new growth pasture. 
I warm my hands, as the flames lick firewood. 

The scent from Melaluca smoke haunts me.

Suzanne Delaney

365 words

Premium Member Are We Trending In the Wrong Direction

Anxieties wake us up when we are in affliction.
We will track down a creative wellspring of motivation.
Obsolete ideas have flourished in objection.
Is it true that we back to the hermit turtle? Rejection.

Because of this paradox, our minds have stalled.
The truth and wonder of life itself are fancied.
We mutilate the magnet field to be hindered,
to act dishonestly, dear ravisher jumbled.

The preliminary went further than our expected hopes.
At first, we knew about our focus shifts and goals.
We were furrowed to clean and dissipated as realizes.
The ambivalence arises from the rivalry always.

Intelligible attention to uncovering last movement trance, 
To yield aid and backing to handle away extravagance. 
A fresh start to restore faith and sense general enhance.
No one has the ways to fulfill one's need for obedience.

Which allows for further graceful independence.
We have lost everything that made us at peace.
While being extracted by fire and photos of reminiscence.
The absence of human agony illustrates perchance.

Our spirits need all those complex rituals to redeem.
Do with careful expulsion to disintegrate the debased dream.
And bestow the blessing of unhindered wisdom.
As we progress in serenity, we retreat from a problem.

This has nothing to do with any other person's perception.
But, It helps to revive the implicit flame of passion.
A vision of a tear, once again, saves a lost creation.
A positive outcome permits understanding the resolution.

At last, fresh and neglected facts facilitate the retry.
While it appears to be that enhancements were lengthy,
The status consistently turns into absoluteness, genuinely
Coasting tranquility and freely, at that point consistently.

The unexpected impediment fills as one's template.
On earth, we are doing our walks, as well as communicate.
The earth is moving, however, holding an enigmatic aspect.
To sustain and become much further fortunate.


Written April 12, 2021
Where are we headed Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Tough Triumphs

Expanses are  tomorrow's territory 
Horizons amplified by my wing span
Strength developed in feather tapestry
Shifting locale afforded with agile plan


Ocean's edge sends mayhem forceful
Detected slipstream among punishment
Aids spread winged hunt for salty morsels
Harmony on coast's cantankerous currents


Silver seaside high tide grasses kindly submit
Myriad of scurried meals by beak sting stilled 
Sharp penetration permits energy replenished
Distant destination found rewards strong will


Emitted persistence, rhythmic ritual circle
Swirled arcs shrill remarks of dominance
Prevailing patient weathered fellow eagles
Declare stubborn intentions of prominance 


Gathered sighting innately demands I pitch in
Tightly packed muscles drive flight equipment 
Evolution necessitates expiring weak specimen
Keen eyed females favour winners' enrichment


Tormenting mountain draws crazed tenacious 
Rugged random avalanche presents no threat 
Closer to our Maker, my meditation spacious 
Challenge breeds sage old age can't forget 


Hundred mile distant haven spied by astute
Richer realms' conquer deem fear redundant
Headed to adventure, potential not obscured
Tough trend upwards, spiralling triumphant

Premium Member Relatives Re-Inact a Romantic Reconciliation

Oh, yes, Darling! Please meet me up the street, in fifteen minutes, right past the old tan house with that porch, bamboo.
We need to talk about things, you and me, without your mean relatives, and that includes your cousin Ted Stew.
I’d gladly trade this car for a completely untarnished marriage certificate, cleaned out of the day-old flu.
But, fiance’, dearest, you have yet to show me your love nest, your side honey, or your super-secret tattoo,
So now that you realize I might cost you money, you love me forever, and think you can let go and forget the Queen of Vooody-Voo- Doo?
Sure, Sweet Darling. Being pre reasonable, I would certainly like to review our marriageable status, and begin trusting you anew.
Of course, we had better hurry, so we get this trust thing sorted, and my family decides to re-include you,
I do not think any love-you-forever ceremony, fancy hall, or wedding vows I will seriously pursue.
If you decide to take the challenge, there on the steps wearing their juiciest smiles, are my mother, Grandma Kell and cousin Lou.
Sure, they do all have guns, permits, frying pans, and razors. Confidentially, they’re in a hum dinger of a stew about you too.
What more can I do, Sugar Bear?  I’ve led you right to them, right up these pretty blue and white steps, and frankly, honey, it’s the best thing I could ever do.
So saying, I guess all my relatives are ready to talk and slap and pinch and punch, and fight and scrap, and kick, because they’re sort of mad you made me so blue.
Bye, Sweetie. I’m off for the weekend with my new honey, Rick, a gentle, kind, God-fearing man, who doesn’t want to stick around to see what they’re going to do.
Form: Monorhyme

Premium Member PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR BEING THE MOST HIGH

September 16 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Daniel 7-9

Key Verse – Daniel 7:27 And the kingdom and dominion, and the greatness of the kingdom under the whole heaven, shall be given to the people  of the saints of the most High, whose kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and all dominions shall serve and obey him.

PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR BEING THE MOST HIGH	

Praise be to God for being the Most High Who:
Evidently exposes His works
Earnestly expresses His Word
Excellently exhibits His wisdom
Effectively exercises His workmanship
Energetically exemplifies worship’s worthiness 

Daniel 8:25 Praise be to the Lord for leading us to His will,
since He is the Prince of princes Whose: 
Power propels us to progress through prayer
Prosperity prompts us to perform along praises
Practice pushes us to pursue toward His perfection
Policy presses us to prevail through His peaceful prodding
Protection permits us to persist in prioritizing His precepts by His providence

Daniel 9:3 Praise be to the Saviour for enabling us to set our faces unto Him: 
Seeking His favour in our supplications
Searching His fullness according to His statutes
Starting with Him by faith through the Scriptures
Settling our fruitfulness along fervor by His satisfaction
Standing upon His faithfulness that fuels our steadfastness. Amen!

September 16, 2024

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