Long Popular Poems
Long Popular Poems. Below are the most popular long Popular by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Popular poems by poem length and keyword.
Erasure Poem
So many fake Indians these days
Elizabeth Warren is one
And according to my DNA results
I am too
But my grand-parents spoke Cherokee my mom claims
And they disappeared into the hills
She claims
Is the DNA test wrong?
Was I adopted ?
Or is it possible
That I am a real deal
A real Cherokee
Or am I fake Cherokee???
A Cherokee weighed in on this on Quora
First, I would never call them “fake Natives”.
They are 99% white,
mostly Blue-collar, and New Age Hippie,
Anglo-Americans
who are simply
lost without their own specific identity
that they can proudly Claim,
so therefore,
they search for a certain Popular,
Romanticized segment of Indigenous People
that will “fit”
into their Family’s historical Lore.
Second, it just happens to ALWAYS be …
the Cherokee …
sometimes,
either Blackfoot or Lakota.
AND, “My GGM was a Cherokee Princess”,
as an add-on VALUE.
This is primarily
because of the vast area
formerly inhabited by the Cherokee.
However, the tribes’ interaction
with European immigrants since colonial times,
led to a great deal of intermarriage
with non-indigenous populations.
In many cases people have limited knowledge
of the other Native American nations,
that inhabited the areas in which they live.
However, a lot of this is wishful thinking,
and these people have African American
or other non-European ancestry.
It is fashionable to claim indigenous ancestry ,
in an attempt to legitimize t
Their sense of belonging on our lands.
The reason is simple,
they don’t know the names of the other tribes.
There has never been a song called
“Indian Reservation” about Apache People
or any other tribe but, the Cherokee.
“Indian Reservation”
by Paul Revere and the Raiders.
So if those people aren’t Cherokee
by blood at least it’s in spirit.
And so I conclude
I may be part Cherokee
Part of the lost tribe
Of the Cherokee
But who really knows
My mother took many things
With her to the grave
Lots of family secrets
Things I will never know
But in my heart
I know
That I am part Cherokee
And so I will proudly
Claim I am part Cherokee
In spirt
If not in blood
a dulcet dreamy rendition
of sweet symphony
paints a cosmic light
inciting the sleepy moon
over the silvery sea
as music soars~
I see clouds descending
to kiss the silky shore
resting on his bosom
and as the music fades,
I hear him sings "La Vie En Rose"
in soft serenading tenor~
Oh, my life begins to glow in pink.
Notes: "La Vie en Rose" (French for '"Life in pink"') is the signature song of popular French singer Édith Piaf, written in 1945,[1] popularized in 1946, and released as a single in 1947. ( Info credits to Wikipedia). This ekphrasis is based on Richard Clayderman's performance on piano.
5 February 2022
A Strand (1066) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Briand strand
1st place
There’s a story of a dying grandma,
She is very rich and had a big villa,
But she is too old to handle her wealth,
Because her hours are numbered on earth.
She decided to call her favorite niece,
To give her villa and all her richess,
The niece was surprised and so very happy,
She thoughts of money and unending party.
Grandma said “Please took care everything my dear”
Aside from my villa, I gave you 5 million, Is that clear?
Open my computer and looked for my Facebook password,
Also feed my animals on Farmville that’s her very last word.
For Andrea’s "SHOW ME THE FUNNY (Part 2)" Contest
July 20, 2013
Note:
Everyone knows farmville was very popular 3 years ago I think...I am addicted to that and even woke up around 3 am just to harvest my crops hahahahah..I bought a villa, shops and houses..I expand, decorated my farm and pretended I'm a millionaire...LOL that's why I wrote this poem...(^_______^) its a joke and hope I make you chuckle/smile/laugh..
In kindergarten we were the little dollies
Carried around by our classmates all day
Until we started to like it
My happy twin and I
Naturally prissy teacher tried to stop it
But they loved us ever much our classmates
We were popular that first week of school
Everyone wanted to play with the twins
Many had never seen the like
We were identical
I remember my curly head swelled up a bit
We both thought we were the best in the class
Our mother tried to take us down a peg or two
But Daddy thought it was hilarious
I still remember this fondly
I loved kindergarten!
The year we got carried around and loved a lot!
The best year of my life in many ways.
Before Thirteen
A skinny child
with crooked teeth and hair needing to be kept short
because of her habit of tangling it with her own hands.
A peculiar child,
thrown into a totally new environment away from her father and
living with a newly divorced mother and three younger sisters,
she spent her fifth year on her grandpa’s farm.
She entered school in that year, getting onto the bus each day
at the end of the country lane which led to her grandpa's house.
She felt abandoned away from her sisters and all alone at the school.
Not gregarious or outgoing, but dutiful and rather conscientious,
at age five she could not ever have guessed her fate.
Wondering why the popular kids talked to her
when she walked them home from school, yet on the playground,
they ignored her most of the time, the child pressed on
through her years in elementary school.
Sixth grade came, and with it came a spark!
Her teacher, Mrs Daufeldt, loved the child’s work
and said she was creative; said the child was bright!
Seventh grade and the child’s age was 12.
Revelation time. She saw the other girls around her, the ordinary ones
like her, no superstars among them; she gathered them to her.
Her test scores soared and teachers, not just Mrs. Daufeldt, praised her!
Witty she became, and she was blossoming into a woman.
Before she reached 13, the child had found her way.
Nov 28, 2018
Deep down inside I knew I wasn’t good enough
Though we would share the same space
you hung out with a different crowd
the “in” crowd
The ones that were good looking
popular
everyone wanted to be with
I was on the outside looking in
shy, reserved
sitting at the back of the class
You had friends to hang around with
I had a job to take up my time
too poor to be fashionable
Waiting for the pain of high school
to be over
which couldn’t come fast enough
Knowing in our last class
our paths would never cross again
that was how things worked in my world
Then one day while
working under hood of my old car
you came around the corner
All the right things happened
we wed and had a great life
until the words of doubt
Wormed their way back
into my subconscious mind
deep down inside I knew I was not good enough
And then it was over…
Andreas Simic©
I plead the fifth!
Rhymes with no sniff
Nosed clogged Ben Gay spade with no shifts
Pace makers tripped wires
Remit
Remake takes patents to skin drifts
Power ranged a game with low lifts
Tires rims shine made drift
Blinds closed with long sticks
Brick houses with no bricks
Framed same found day shun with steel trip
Wires hang dancers give
Beauty baked lashes give rip
Maybeline lined lip
Color shadow followed him
Made created a land with give gifts
Transparent pulled out of bounds balls bounce do drifts
Out strike title stripped
Sterilize steroids with no stick
Big boned with mild tones sounds
Without Biz
Bone Thug great hit
Smashed charts with no
Ozzie remake with slick
Hiding lights with strike back
Big rims Cadillac
Heavy Chevy comes back
Nova stars mobilized
Ride click tight riding high
Bean pies French fries
Filled with no lies
Mouth covered
Say nothing
Snitch out
Been made!
He was the weird one, the odd one, the one the family laughed about.
He heard them laughing, and it hurt when he was a boy.
By the time he was a teenager, it hurt less, but it still hurt.
He moved away and developed a new family – a family of friends.
They encouraged him and uplifted him and inspired him.
He was popular with them because they liked him.
He fell in love and got married, and they raised three sons.
The sons were goofy and funny and hilarious like their dad.
They wanted to know his family, but he discouraged them.
His family had changed; they had gotten worldlier.
They wanted to know his sons too.
So, he finally took them there.
He thought his parents and siblings would make fun of him.
Instead they shared funny stories, and laughed with him, not at him.
He was astounded! They had liked him all along.
He was the one who misconstrued their affection as bullying.
He was no black sheep at all, he was a blue sheep.
Sad that he had let so much time expire before he came home.
They don't like your music or your style
the difference between success with them
is me.
Ya'll sing, anybody can sing.
People do it everyday in every situation.
Having that great sound is what you're after
You have that with me.Gone on the
cold suface of Europa aint nothing suitible there
get what I am saying. You start
saying things in a paradox,keep on talkin
outta your headd bout thang ya'll don't know about gone do it! thinking
you got a paramour and you whine-up
in a situation.
Groove forms in rocks large stones
be igneous not ignorant! Now
And a Mi tour More-fic thang
aint no good-thang, people
makes the whole thang happen
I know people the right people, them
Dudes ya'll riffin' with aint worth a
measure of a turd.
forreal Dough is money, music money
that mesomorphic base to the greatest understanding.
We got sounds to make them beautiful voice into something
everybody wanna hear.
ya'll jivin on catogories man that aint happening
we got popular the stuff that's fancy
to most people! Pretty smart folks
do it longer, longivity is what music is all about.
Do your thang,
and then do your thang with me, get where I am saying.
"get with me!" "we gonna do it right!"
If ya'll wasn't top I wouldn't be sayin this!
staying blur aint for Gargamel.
Making gold and set goales is the start
to being successful. "Ya'l got the talent I'll
provide the oppurtunity!"
"the way to go: the thang to do!"
Have them dancing like Gypsy's to that peice, or have the bumpin the groove to that thang
"What we gone do?" We got the sound, music for days, spanning forever:
ya'll got thangs that make our sounds complete.
We gonna do this thang or what?
do the bluesy stuff
do that rock stuff
groove tunes
and R and B
we Orchestrated Grooves Ya'll we gone do our thang! Word?
I said word?
I know ya'll hear me!
It's What He said
written by;
Big Gig Grooves
New Music Media
"the money! The Money said the Clown Fool
I aint joking!"
COMPLICATED SIMPLICITY
Giving way to the tug of war,
and the smiles that are given, along with a scar.
To protect the innocent, caught in between,
Eyes closed to the love refused to be seen.
It's a complicated simplicity,
A problematic irony,
the choosing done, opinions won,
by popular belief
Battles long fought upon her knees,
Only One to fear and that’s God to please,
The things whispered are known, for God never sleeps,
Are revealed in more ways, than secrets can keep
Balances tipping the scale to the floor,
Hating me more than I was once adored,
How long to wear the blinders given of Satan to wear,
Forgetting my love, distorting my care.
For the ravaging fires of the gossiping tongue,
All signs of life burned until there was none.
Unfair sentencing, locked and thrown away the key,
Leaving a desperate grasping of one’s sanity.
It's a complicated simplicity,
A problematic irony,
the choosing done, opinions won,
by popular belief.