Long Poles Poems
Long Poles Poems. Below are the most popular long Poles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Poles poems by poem length and keyword.
Children of faith,
That look up to the heavens,
For help, for comfort,
For a change, for a beginning;
They are like nails hammered into rocks,
They have broken hearts,
They've got nothing,
Completely no one else to turn to,
They walk in the shadow of death.
Children of faith,
They know that they have numbered days,
And are aware of their crashing clay;
They see their fading light rays,
But they have their hopes high,
Like a camel in the Sahara,
That waits for years ,
For a shower of rain from above-
Their tongues prophecy new beginnings,
Their lips sing in thanksgiving,
But their hearts weep in sorrow,
For the afflictions and torments.
Children of faith,
Live each day like their last,
And give each shining sun their best.
Their thoughts are totally lost,
And upon this,they don't boast.
In fact, they're so detached-
From their poor lives.
They thank the setting sun,
For bringing a thin film of darkness,
And for silencing the day's noises;
So that they will shut their doors and windows,
To cry in silence,
And lick their tears;
And face their fierce fears-
While no one else witnesses their agony.
Children of faith,
That look up to the skies,
For midday dusk-
When the days seem longer,
Or appear like they're failing.
That call on,
For midnight dawn,
When nights appear faulty;
With the greatest of scary dreams,
And the highest ranking of their pain,
Or with life-threatening haemorrhages,
With wounds cut and drilled deeper.
Their lives have taken firm grip,
On to the strongest ropes,
Whose ends are knotted to weak poles.
Most of them lose it with time,
Like you and I at some point;
Only few keep the fire burning,
As they wait for their deliverance.
Children of faith,
I don't understand what it is that they are made of,
But only they know what their origins are.
We want to walk like them,
And borrow lessons from their trials,
As we try to put on their coats,
Just to feel the coldness or warmth or both;
That they get from their shield of faith.
She wants to follow their example,
And keep hearing their tales.
He wants to live a life like theirs;
And keep reciting their prayers.
We plead with them,
To Teach us ;
How to build faith like theirs.
When the storms are rough,
When the floods are yet to wash away our feet-
When misfortune befalls us,
Or when we feel we've lost it all.
Two young men in vietnam
Sit in a foxhole one night
While chatting and talking about there families
and sharing pictures of each others wives
But along in the Dark distance
Came a bright and shimmering light
The light came down from the sky
like a shooting star in midflight
Charley was spreading
into the jungles of the night
Shouting out to one another
Tat ca deu chet dêm nay
which means they all die tonight
As the men laid in the foxhole
watching people running for there life
One of the men said we must flee
the other man said not I
The one man said
In the bright shimmering light
But why does one not flee
and run too save his own life
The other man looked deep
Deep down in the man's eyes
and says I shall do as my fathers did
I shall stay, I shall fight and I shall die
The fleeing man had a face
a face full of surprise
He asked why does thou not flee with me
on this very hour tonight
He said I just can't do it
it's not the way I was raised
my mother always taught me
to have a little faith
See I believe in God
and I believe he has a plan
and if it's my time to go
might as well be like a man
So now do you see why,
why one does not flee tonight
why I choose to stay
and risk my life and fight?
The fleeing man said no
and ran into the dark jungle night
So the one man kept his word
with every inch of his might
sitting in his little foxhole
and fighting throughout the rest of the night
Until his upmost surprise
came mornings first daylight
he seemed to have survived
survived for one more night
Re-gathered with his troops
all thankful to be alive
the man began to search
for his friend that ran off that night
asking all the troops
if they had seem him around
he finally came to the realization
that his friend was nowhere to be found
But he forgot to check
where he should have looked before
because there laid his friend colorless
and lifeless on the floor
So the Vietnam war ended, it took so many lives
but the man who said that he shall stay and fight
now lives at home with that same wife
for he every sunday
visits a tall white ivory stone
on the front it reads, I miss you
and I cant believe that your gone
But with all the Commemorative plaques
and monumental poles
theres one saying that still holds true
there are no atheists in foxholes
What is this world really about?
I can listen to the President and still not understand a word out of his mouth,
Is he for the American people or is he only in office to institute wars,
He captured Saddam so I guess for his father he has settled all the scores.
But look at our nation right now; we’re still suffering from poverty,
Why not show our kids in the ghettos something else wonderful to see,
Let’s do away with the crimes and take the guns off the streets,
This would be my main topic for when the President and I come to meet!
“Dear Sir, how are you doing my name is Curtis and I’m a tax paying citizen,”
It seems like you’re glorifying your capture of Saddam but this war we didn’t win,
We have soldiers in Iraq dying for absolutely no reason,
And if they abandon your Father’s war you’ll hold them for treason!
Saddam was said to possess weapons of mass destruction,
I think an impeachment is call for before you lead us into corruption,
In 2005 I think Florida’s voting poles shouldn’t be mention,
And by the end of 2005 voting, George Bush Jr. should be awaiting his pension!
I have spoken about one of the problems in our society so I should assail another,
This cry for awareness goes out to my fellow black brothers,
We are caught up in Babylon’s system with all our material items,
Sean John puts out hundred dollars sweat suits and we’ll rush out to buy them.
Big Tymers wear these icy chains and we label them as stars,
While young black men sees this as truly living while locked up behind bars,
We have been brainwash and told that this was the way to be living,
I don’t believe in those views because my state of mind is to be giving.
I was born into this world with a little weak mind,
It was easily corrupted that it directed me to a short period of crime,
But a wise man came into my life and showed me the right way,
He’s in Heaven now but I still bout my head to him every night when I pray!
In time of dismay I know he’ll always be by my side,
And I thank you again Tennyson for teaching me to keep my pride,
At the beginning of this poem I asked, “What is this world really about?”
So everyone take a look at yourselves and tell me who’s the real sell out?
“Even in a world of weeds a Rose can still be form”
Form:
1.618 :
Number of Golden Ratio, mystery of Kaaba, Miracle of Islam and Koran, it is the high time for Divine Secrets, Divine Mysteries. Soon on display!
In a little while, you will see scientific proofs of unbelievable mysteries that have remained hidden in the Holy City of Mecca for thousand of years with your own eyes. Mecca is willed as direction of kowtow, convention place for billions of Muslims and as the holy center of Islam. Those Muslims, who can afford, are prescribed to arrive go on a journey through Kaaba, Muzdelife and Arafat and to convene in the sacred city.
Phi Constant- 1.618, superior design number of mathematics. The Creator has always used the very same number in numerous events in the universe; in our heart pulses, the aspect ratio of DNA spiral, in the special design of the universe called dodecehadron, in the leaf array rules of plants called phylotaxy, in the snow flake crystals, in the spiral structure of numerous galaxies. The Creator used the same number; the number of golden ratio which is 1.618…
As a result of his 25 years long study, aesthetician Dr. Steven Markout proves that each of human faces and bodies, created pursuant to this ratio, are completely beautiful. If the relative ratio is 1.618 for the components of any structure, then this form will be convenient to Golden Ratio, the perfect design.
So, where is the Golden Ratio Point of the World?
The proportion of distance between Mecca and North Pole to the distance between Mecca and South Pole is exactly 1.618 which is the golden mean. Moreover, the proportion of the distance between South Pole and Mecca to the distance between both poles is again 1.618.
The miracle has not been completed yet; The Golden Ratio Point of the World is in Mecca city according to map of latitude and longitude which is the common determinant of mankind for location.
The proportion of eastern distance to the western distance of Mecca’s solstice line is again 1.618. Moreover, the proportion of the distance from Mecca to the solstice line from the west side and perimeter of world at that latitude is also surprisingly equal to the golden ratio, 1.618. The Golden Ratio Point of the World is always within the city borders of Mecca, within the Holy Region that includes Kaaba according to all mapping systems despite minor kilometrical variations in their estimations.
There sat an old man on the
porch. He was long and gray.
Skin that looked similar to a
dried raisin. Dark as a wet
pecan. His eyes a light green
color. You know his dad was
one of those Creoles. How did
his skin get so dark? Working
out there in that field for that
white man, they say. Worked
there so long his back and
knees gave out one day while
he was tilling the land. He sat
still on the wooden chair in the
shade of the sloping roof of his
shack. His wavy gray hair wet
with sweat around the sides of
his head and on his bony chest.
He had lost the interest in
keeping it groomed so the
waves had lost their shiny
luster. The wrinkles pooled
around his eyes and sunk in his
cheeks. They told him that he
had gotten that from his
grandmama's white side
because his ***** grandmama
on his daddy's side died at the
age of 80 without a wrinkle. He
had always resented his white
side and the more he loathed
them the heavier his heart
became. The heavier his heart
became the deeper the wrinkles
became. So this hatred was the
cycle of his life. His large hands
spread out dangling at his side.
Not swinging, just dangling as
if they had steel poles in them.
They looked so heavy attached
to his little arms. The veins
shown blue through his wrists
at the base of his hands. More
privileges and favor with his
father's people because of that.
He wore no shirt. Only khaki
slacks that looked as old as he
did. He wore no shoes so his
long feet rested on the creaky
boards of the porch. He sat
with his eyes staring out at
nothing. The children played in
the yard. Screaming and
running around with laughter.
Their mothers just across the
street talking and gossiping
about the young women at the
street corner. Envy in their
voices as they discussed and
threw out their opinions. The
men gathered around the
mailbox tossing and dice and
yelling out profanity to each
other. Everyone going about
their daily lives. The old man
still sat motionless as a
painting. Look closely. His chest
is not moving. There is no
breath blowing out of his nose.
He had become a corpse right
where he sat. And so we see
the cycle of life. Laughter.
Gossip. Lust. Envy. Innocence.
Play. Youth. Sin. Life. And
death.
Do I trespass if I knock at your door
Would you be frightened to see I also have a full cup
And call the cop because I am black and you are white
You were none of this I would believe
We had no dividing line except that within our gender
And yet for all, our words could climb from bed to bed
And I could against their promise lay my head.
I am not threatened by a woman revolting against history
And fear the dumb traditions than more than I fear
The truth liberating our different poles to embrace the center of our love
There is no dividing line between the poet and the word.
What then shall we make for a facade of difference
The absence or presence of the sun
For day and night only describe the inadequacy of the eyes
Stars are liquid boilers and builders of atoms into dust
Nothing solid in the bright space of it my mass would trust
Atoms, cells, male, female, lovers and distinctions
Deceivers all, we made them to be the delusion of us
Endlessly we yield
To the giving we are receiving back again
This coming and receding
Pounding in our hearts, wrapping us in swaddling tides
Nursed by lactating time ... this is all we have and kiss
Time the imitator of eternity by persistency
Have fooled our hearts with vanity
Now we are not so rich again without your words
Rolling, rocking, to and fro
The pendulum of our illusion is a dry breast of milky way
We are ahead by the words wings beating in our brain
The cage flustering the feathers in their flight
From trees, herds and people, rocks edifying the rigor of the stream
Life moves backward while standing still
From the seat where imagination changes gear
I hear an engine groaning up an hill
Across inflexible landscapes, and the many distinctions of our selves
The illusion of difference is a solid wall.
Let us like children blow our bubbles still
And seed the air with its own vapor
I love them coming into being, and suddenly popping out again
And for some pretty ones felt the weight of love's despair so
What is the meaning of morning here if night is always there
Waiting at the curving of the sun?
Who left the door open for the milk man coming up the stair
He picks up the empty bottles, leaving apples in their place
You must bring down to him milk again
To nourish my famished tears among the ladderless world of stars.
Ah Frontiera, here we are at your last, you've thrown a rod, your life lies black
on oily ground - all this snow and you're a mobile no longer; so I must walk.
It's cold, and now I think of it, that cold that exists in enormous reservoirs
at the poles of our world, seemingly to pass back and forth between,
as if through a secret conduit as the seasons are unfurled.
I will relax, I tell myself, "become one with the cold" as if it can't hurt me,
because sometimes you have to tell yourself things in order to survive.
My soliloquy proceeds as I gather thin paper birch branches and fashion them
into snowshoes with rawhide strings from my pack, a woefully empty pack
considering where I must go - the Brooks Range, even in October, is no joke -
and I can make it to a trapper's cabin, south south-west near Lake Chandalar.
Like the Inupiat Eskimos, I will sing my song, make up my tale, and live on.
Garlock, lord of this valley, seven feet of branch-breaking, tree-scarring,
log-rolling, stump-pulling black bear might, looks up, for the wind was behind me
and his nose is ever aware; my prayer - "You've eaten well, for your
winter sleep comes soon, you are not hungry enough for me" - I repeat it with
calm confidence; Praise God - noble king Garlock, this time, gives me a pass.
Two hundred miles, "Can I make it in three weeks, can I stay alive for four,"
I wonder as I walk, as I fish - pike, char; hard-fought with my hook, still the grayling
cooks on my fire - with a few remaining blueberries I find for spice; over mountain pass,
near the gorge's bottom, a rocky ledge, a rare stumbled caribou with broken legs,
my knife finishes it, oh how warm and rich the liver.
Over the blue cold of a nameless glacier - half the planet's glaciers are in Alaska,
that blue in summer melting is half of all water flowing into all the seas; I exist
with the cold, I'm only a part-day's travel from the trapper's cabin now.
Click-thunk! I hear it before my leg is alive with pain; I've stepped on a trap.
The evening's grim descent doubles and redoubles - I laugh or cry.
Will I bleed, will I freeze, or will my life just vanish into shock,
tucked into the ever-colder onset of night.
Trapper, when will you next check your traps?
December 21, 2016
For Shadow Hamilton's contest - 'Epic'
"Petrichor "
Two minds
have made an entrance
magnetic bodies electric
minions babble
it’s just wasted white noise
sandpaper against back stories hit
The Wall of Wasted Time
He’s read most between the lines
He’s all hard hot and cool
unruffled piercing eagle eyes
forever on the hunt for willing prey
She’s incognito in disguise
seeking a challenge amongst
the spoilt and unsoiled
green-eyed fray
the two watch
in studied silence
like heat seeking missiles
they will find each other
poles apart
opposites
light and dark
fascinated
they are each other’s mark
the ozone is now charged
the crowd dissolves
invisible all their faces
unread their lips
unheard their madding mob words
whispered all graceless
passionless empty pages
time departs
the fuse is lit
Two minds’ eyes connect
both burning id reflect
the moment before they met
neurons travelling at lightning speed
through pulse to fingertips
reach out towards
each other’s mortal form
to touch the cerebral net
then later
find fingers reading skin
like braille and thirst
to drink from reigning lips
the moment before the
welcome storm hits hips
to taste the salt in
the cumulonimbus bursting
blue feral hollows
of their naked terraform
the Two minds
like absent gods
high and lost
in each other’s ocean
bent and tossed
live their story
tattooed at the place
where bodies leave clean sheets
and souls connect
electric bodies ignite
La Petite Mort
wave after wave
their drowning moans
ecstatically deplore
their final becalmed
silence approaching
the sweet mercy of
Petrichor
(LadyLabyrinth/2018)
https://youtu.be/5hFCZ1tzWR0
"Body Electric"/Del Ray
"I sing the body electric,
The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them,
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the soul"
I Sing the Body Electric, Walt Whitman
(American Poet, May 31,1819 – March 26, 1892)
"The love of the body of man or woman balks account, the body itself balks account,
That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect."
I Sing the Body Electric, Walt Whitman
Day or night all the same
Clock ticks to put hour its name
Steps i take are all counted
From bed to balcony no railing mounted
I breath air to recognize the season
And pray god to gift me the vision
I heard Johnny say cloud are fluffy and white
I am not sure weather he is right
Sun only make me warm but never cry
As dark glass protects my eye
On the wide streets with all alone
I seek company of friends far gone
Car honks all around me
Streets are not as safe they used to be
I took my shoes and stick in hand
I walk like i am sinking in sand
Finger and palm touch the face
Eye cheat me to tell its spade's ace
Mom said stars are glitter in sky
But i cant see them, god tell me why
Dreams only has random words
How do i recognize the chirping bird
Few say they wore red or white
How do i know which colour is bright
Streets may have name for others
Poles and bus stands are my guiding brothers
Streets have lamp to light pedestrians way
My ears help me to make the play
Strangers everyday come and go
One day my eyes will have vision and glow
Finger tell me socks tore
Loneliness making me so bore
Happiness plays hide and seek
Eyes are gaurded by darkness so thick
Mirror never told me single lie
Mom said i have pretty smile
Daddy never gave up on me
He took me to feel the sea
Waves are blue and white on top
Put your leg and try them to stop
Blind as me, still walk with pride
Customer of ferry enjoy their ride
Santa please come before Christmas eve
Put pair of eyes besides Christmas tree
He came with the gift that i want
gave me glasses with eyes on top drawn
Blessed i am with pair of eyes to have
It still made me stay in the darkest cave
On a lonely night i sat and sobbed
Why oh god, my eyes are robbed
It seems like he heard my plea
In weeks i got a pair of eyes too see
Doctor said i am lucky to receive pair of eye
In an accident last night, some one waved the world his good bye
No one knew who was he what was his name
But he was like gods angel came
Now eyes have glow it never had
Its the best gift that i wished every night before going to bed
Thank you dear who gave me the vision stolen for years
My eyes are filled with tears
Now i have to live my life with reason
I should try to gift all blind with vision
mandatory monopoly to teach kids a business sense
life long school writing career to help set up your children for success
filing cabinets for councellors to read through
to help your children reach their aspirations
by grade 12 the book edited and presented to the market
anyone can do this
writing a book to heal the mind
pick 5 or 7 names
write descriptive nonsense about them everyday
and don't bother putting it in order
Paying attention to your themes
realise when you have a breakthrough write
then rewrite that story
the miracle of the womb of dreams
women's intuition of an infants first introduction to it's creator
mom a subconcious prophet who just doesn't know
freud of the denial of sexual knowledge
jung of psychological awareness
all ties together learning to think through emotion
due to discomfort of heat and hunger
A gift to the world i have given you an oracle
sending the soldiers of god
walking the globe in circles to their enlightenment
by mastermining your war efforts
you can make war impossible
cities with their own magnetic poles strategically placed
the order of the compas points different for each quadrant of the world
The second generation Internet
pending approval before it is viewable
Bank robbing police in my backyard
its almost time for your funeral
Telling the well people to build an arc
just in case
you like to travel anyway
something better to do than poison your children
and repeat unpleasant mistakes
mandatory firefighting enlistments
preparing for droughts and floods
the war of our world v.s the wrath of mother nature
fought hard with the plan to end famine
still wondering about the missing priests
who allowed criminal refuge
children the victoms in one way
adults recieving the wrong sermon
Richy rich calling scotland yard
many of my dreams have been stolen
would like to go have tea with the queen
welcome to the Next level
the game of making ones life unfair
studied to induce suicide through psychology
waiting for you to come into my life to give me a gun
thinking i might fall for your good intentions
i won't
that much poison in my veigns
bank robbing police
if there is a problem solving this mystery
you just might attend some of the worst case scenarias
i have been living