Long Portfolio Poems
Long Portfolio Poems. Below are the most popular long Portfolio by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Portfolio poems by poem length and keyword.
Children will hear children will be told
Of the stories of once, in colors so bold
Only black and white are left in this world
The rest all have turned to mould
Grey is the sky, grey is the ground
The sparks up above are turning black
as they fly around
Tears rolling down faces in monochromatic eye's
Everything is colourless or have we
Just become color blind?
Yet in my hands, I hold this little
Polychromatic portfolio, seeing
all of those colors left so long ago
Wherever you are and wherever you grow
Please reappear into this black and white hold
Where have all the colors gone to?
Please tell me if you know or have they
vanished down below
Get them quick, get them bold
If you want your black and white stories
Bleed color as you grow old!
REFLECTIONS AND VISIONS
I had laughter and occasional tears
As memories bubble up, unbidden
And thinking back to my early years
Times were quite different back then
The basics were dominant in my life
And luxuries were rare, as I recall
Yet, ambition was lurking deep within
That drove me to learn and apply
A pathway to achievement, I’d say
Albeit in a direction hardly chosen
But stumbling toward a realisation
That what is given should be used
Initially, perhaps to help mankind
But soon a dream was surrendered
To embrace the technological world
Where travel and experience grew
In a slick and less protected sphere
I survived, but with scars, I know
Until the magnetic call of industry
Clutched at me, suited and ready
Finance showed its alternate face
A career portfolio was established
Returning to health and social focus
Oh, but what was I really thinking
That politics would shrink away
Leaving me again, disappointed
But also fatigued, even with life
Retirement then peeked at me
A workplace ridden with lost hope
And seemingly in a flash, it ended
These days, I am saddened to say
It is tears and occasional laughter
You’ve got student loans, an overpriced car, and a house,
bought a big boat for you, and the scalpel for your spouse.
Had a good job and your portfolio was rocking,
each day was Christmas, now there’s a hole in your stocking.
There’s a hole in your stocking and your life’s falling out,
your self-esteem has faded and has left you in doubt.
You search for a way out, but all the exits are blocked,
you can’t pry open the windows and the doors are locked.
All the doors are locked and now all your bitcoin has crashed,
and you’ve spent all the money that you had in your stash.
Boss man told you, sorry but we’re forced to let you go,
but don’t worry son, you’re gonna be fine don’t you know.
You will be fine you know you’ve credit cards for spending,
but the rate is too darn high on what they’ve been lending.
You’ll never sell your house because the market has crashed,
you’ve been trying really hard, but you know you can’t last.
You’ve been trying so hard, but the mortgage due is past,
you can’t get off the track and the train’s coming too fast.
No way to ever get out of a hole dug this deep,
maybe if you’re lucky you won’t wake up from your sleep.
President Barak Obama has an economic stimulus plan
to move the nation out of this financial quicksand
with foreclosures and jobs lost the situation is depressing
over $700 billion to get us out of this recession
but I know that all my help comes from the Lord
and God won't let me write a check that I cannot afford
the God who made Heaven and Earth has never let me down
the God who created me won't let me financially drown
He is my source, He is my strength, He is my right hand
and since money is not the god I serve I trust in His stimulus plan
for I know my God is able to keep food on my table
I know my God will always come through whenever a bill is overdue
I know my God is up to the task to give me all that I ask
God's spiritual stimulus plan is my daily bread
infused with His promises that keep me spirit-fed
and no matter how dire my circumstance
I turn to God and He extends me a branch
for greater is He who is in me than what is in this world
and greater is what He has promised me than anything from man I've heard
He suffered for me, He died for me, His blood was on the cross
there's nothing He won't do for me so I won't suffer anymore loss
the joy of the Lord is now in my hands
my God's spiritual stimulus plan
and even when my back's against the wall
the God I serve won't let me fall
and even if my 401K has diminished
the God I serve will replenish
and even if my stock portfolio tanks
the God I serve has a full spiritual bank
exceedingly, abundantly and above all
the God I serve will answer my call
in all things, in anything and in everything
there's nothing that my God cannot change
my God is able and on His word I do stand
trusting in Him to revive me with His spiritual stimulus plan
In the interview board of the portfolio
The question asked,
How so? Is it not fornication?
The ripley's reply was negative.
“As you shifted the family tree into a money plant
This is basically a spine inclination in influencing.
The shadow and the light. And the gray in daylight.
The intrepid tree shall learn to grow there. There.”
The question paper was asking again. “P.O Box?”
The mustang speed in the reply came, “ Digital, greetings?”
“You tell me, at all. Since it is all about you. Is it not?”
Pondarance.
Stress or,
May or,
Say or,
Vit D Organic!
Lines. Line breaks. Different strokes. Different brushes.
To spell oracle these days you need simply three.
Wind catcher sounds
“P-reach”, Saucer and UFO!
You and I may have decided
long ago,
and again more recently,
more ego-centrally
and now more large-stage ecopolitically,
that human life
has only that meaning and purpose we give ourselves,
we choose to embrace,
however ambivalently
And this dissociation from divine
theocratically orchestrated
organized
operational history and culture
leaves us free
but also isolated;
an individual without communally objective identity,
without sacred communion
orthodox portfolio.
You may have thought,
as did I,
a self-assigned secular purpose
could only be subjective,
as free as straight white male law
to become morally arbitrary,
Polypathic liberation without polyphonic natural harmonies
of graced
and original sacred objective intent--
sometimes punishing
and other times healing--
sometimes both retribution against subjects
and therapy with and for redeemed objects.
You may have thought God is as dead
as planet Earth will one day be,
and there is no realistic
natural or spiritual escape route,
No heavenly and eternal paradise Rapture
for the Elect,
much less the merely subjective NonElect
like wounded
isolated
mortal
autonomous ego
me.
I may have come to hope
we push through in-between
nihilistic subjective freedom
to choose win/lose competitions
between leftbrain wealth
of chosen verbal knowledge
and rightbrain health
of meaningful connection
back through generations
regenerating self and other selected purpose
to reconnect Father straight white male God
with MotherEarth CareTaker CreationGiver
Choosing DNA's secular/sacred
healthiest/wealth of opportunity
to choose vocational purpose
rejoining Earth's win/win CareTaker leftbrain intent
either/or
win or lose
with EarthMother's CareGiver rightbrain
composing interdependent CoPassion's
eco-habitual
co-operational meanings.
Co-relational left with right
is not necessary lapse
into merely subjective relativism,
as is either straight or ***** left yang dominance
without both equal and interdependent
right yin prominence.
Jealous, Jealous, Jealous
The swiftness of the Vessa just killed me,
That speed and the grandeur of the seat,
The frame’s shine and the four wheels free,
The maroon leather upholstery neat.
The diagonal pattern on the seat and back,
Which made diamond shapes all over,
Reminded me of Pringles golf wear sack,
That sportsmen buy, their goods designer.
The prestige of owning one was immense,
A Vessa with thin black joystick, gray box,
Orange on/off button for your own sense,
To use wisely to be the batteries’ prox.
That privilege, that air that they all held,
Even made their severe disabilities trivial,
Counted them as people who so gelled,
With normality, the cool and the convivial.
I couldn’t walk at all well, sore feet often,
And in Primary Two asked of my physio,
That she give me in order to cheer, soften,
An electric wheelchair for my portfolio.
I wasn’t asking for a Vessa, not at all,
Just a Bec, ‘cos that could be anyone’s
They were blue, just for indoors, did stall,
And there were some just sat there, tuns.
My feet got sore and I was badly in pain,
Because mum insisted on Clarks shoes,
Old fashioned, hard, so I did complain,
Ås I saw trainers that would fit my toes,
My mum’s strict faith said no to sense,
No to love and yes to abuse, I’d loose,
So I explained to my physio, no nonsense,
That Christianity meant my pain, choose.
My mum thought trainers were worldly,
Demonic, non-Christian, rough and sinful,
But I didn’t know my credibility fully,
And so my physio said no more mouthful.
I knew it would’ve given me a life,
A mouth, a mode that could let me talk,
‘Cos I couldn’t talk and walk, my strife,
Together, simultaneously, talk and walk.
So at school I was always jealous,
Of those with a Vessa who got respect,
From every staff member zealous,
To enhance their freedom prospect.
I got my Vessa at university, shiney,
But I saw it rationally and with thought,
Understood something had blatantly,
Gone wrong, since it I’d only just bought.
But I appreciated my Vessa so much,
At Uni, no-one knew the status or fuss,
That’d been attached to it, not to touch,
At my special school, uh ha, for all of us.
I put my life savings into bitcoins she told me
Bit coins! Bit coins! Bit coins!
The neighbors are dancing in the street.
They have $100, 000 in a $10, 000 portfolio now.
Bit coin mania, you are insania!
I cannot believe how fast they buy
Bit coin mania, you are insania.
I still ask myself why buy? Oh why?
Two weeks later the janitor at works tells me a secret.
I am a millionaire now, but I still plan to work through December.
I ask him to let me in on his secret.
Bit coins! He tells me. But he cautions me “don’t tell anyone else.”'
Bit coin mania, you are insania!
I cannot believe how fast they buy
Bit coin mania, you are insania.
I still ask myself why buy? Oh why?
Before the Bit Coin debacle, I was the only poor person I knew.
Now they are all in it with me except for one thing.
Not only did they go from Richie Rich status to poverty level in a week
But they lost their life savings.
Whereas mine was spent on a new car
which I am enjoying as I drive around singing the “Bit Coin” jingle.
Here i sit
In the Country of my Scots
We are Albannach
Celts, we are taught
For many, many years
Our clans have fought and fought
Races have invaded our shores
But our freedom can not be bought
Our Clans are segmented throughout my lands,
in times of good we are in clannish dispute, and in
times of hardship, we congeal and unite as one
My questions and words, if you are there
You are obliged to listen, as i am here
If you are a teller, your words should be strong
Do you speak like Semaj, like his words do belong
I see these scrolls, from many years in worlds past
Written by elders, hidden to last
Their words of wisdom, powerful they may be
Come with me to the future, to the land of thee
These indigenous lands, spirits so free
In natures portfolio, they are the decree
For over two thousand years, religion has ruled.
Have we been taken in, and now in blinkered rule.
Do we look back to the Heathens, the Pagans the Mayans
where we look to our leaders, and their suppression
we rely on
Scriptures, books and scrolls, the writers of wisdom.
The elders of nations, in current living kingdoms
Without a book, there is no story, no paragraphs,
no believable glory.
In the modern days before 2012, in the world of Semaj
words can be heard. Tittle tattle about this and that,
once our worlds gone, that's that
A word in your ear
From father to son
Hear the word that I say
I fought with you
Fought on your side
Long before you were born
Joyful the sound
The word goes around
From father to son to son.
( Lyrics by Queen of Queen II )
My entry into Matt Caliri contest " If i Could Talk to God "
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life-6.php
The Earth is slowly baking
But nobody seems to care,
There’s footie on the Tele
Election Fever in the air.
The rich are getting richer
The poor more beaten down
The food banks growing
In every City and town.
Another summer approaches,
Maybe another of brush fire
But it’s better for sunbathing
As temperatures climb higher.
On the cosmic scale of time
We exist less than a blink
So let’s all make merry while
Pacific Islands start to sink.
The rich man watches his portfolio,
The poor man watches his team
In their own specific way
Each follows their own dream.
Life is so short really
We’re all in such hurry
So I’m all right Jack and let’s
Let future generations worry.