Long Prices Poems
Long Prices Poems. Below are the most popular long Prices by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Prices poems by poem length and keyword.
Mariah was quite the painter,
oil her favorite medium,
she didn’t do postmodern crap,
old masters showed how it was done.
She made her fame doing portraits,
liked to stream, and paint them online,
soon had half a million watchers
who all thought her work was divine.
She got prices most dreamed of,
“It’s masterwork,”her fans all said,
soon she adorned walls everywhere,
by the people was much wanted.
Benson was a research doctor,
and prions were his chosen field,
he sought chemicals to treat then,
he progressed, and got results real.
Now Benson was quite peculiar,
his social skills didn’t run deep,
if you didn’t know any better
you would swear the man was a creep.
But his research bought people years,
how many? It cannot be said.
Quirky and strange as Benson was,
his mind was very much wanted.
Niles was quite the proud father,
had three kids that he loved deeply,
saw to their needs, spent time with them,
made sure they never went hungry.
His job was not that amazing,
He didn’t look special at site,
but his kids grew strong and stable,
had a deep foundation for life.
He never found a hall of fame,
but his wife and daughters all said
the man was irreplaceable,
and would never live unwanted.
Odette’s voice was like an angel,
from the start she knew it a gift,
and she loved seeing the sweet looks
on people who got to hear it.
It amazed her such happiness
could be born by her innate tones,
Odette liked making folks happy,
the greatest fulfillment she’d known.
“I’ve never heard one quite like her,”
was what the jaded critics said,
she kept no light under a bucket,
and by countless souls was wanted.
But Mariah’s mom was sixteen,
didn’t want to ‘ruin her life,’
Benson’s mom had no time for kids,
just wanted to have fun at night.
Nile’s mom was having affairs,
and her marriage was much at risk,
Odette’s mother was forty-three,
had said, “No, I’m quite done with this.”
We never will know these people,
not even see names on a tomb,
their mothers found them inconvenient,
so they were butchered in the womb.
To such minds, they were not people,
from such minds it can truly be said:
You are not fully human unless
by someone else you are ‘wanted.’
Button up, and strut,
grab the cane and the hat,
she’s got her favourite clutch and such,
who knows with girls and their pearls,
The lights shine bright,
the greasers start a fight,
but it’s Saturday, so it’s quite alright,
sittin in the club,
waitin for some grub,
grab a tab, we jab and josh and slosh,
The bass stands upright,
and so does the crowd,
she’s got that beaded dress fitting so tight,
curves singing out loud,
bunny hopping to beats,
and keeping that scotch real neat,
Hair up high, in a beehive,
oh behave darlin we’re daring to dance so close,
we got those air ride dreams of pure hope,
concept cars and velvet ropes,
let’s take it to the show,
We saved all week for a night like this,
a little shine, a little bliss,
didn’t take much cash to feel first class,
just a jukebox glow and a dance that lasts,
now the prices climb and the nights get thin,
but oh, we remember where we’ve been,
Beep boppin to the retro gaze,
it’s easy to look back in a lavender haze,
in Button Down Town, we shine what we’ve got,
pressed up dreams and a Saturday shot,
yeah, we lived it up proud,
in our button down crowd,
Beep boppin to the retro gaze,
it’s easy to look back in a lavender haze,
in Button Down Town, the nights felt long,
chrome bright hopes and a jukebox song,
yeah, the world spun slow
in that lavender glow,
HOLLYWOOD SQUARES
most wouldn’t find names interesting, but I would
draw squares representing student desks.
i loved looking at the baby book of names,
my mother bought, in my thirteenth year.
so i’d put a name to each of these squares,
Hollywood would give their squares faces
as would the children’s game Guess Who.
Names were simple back in my day.
Mary and Joseph, Nadine and Peter...
Of course Hollywood had fun with names.
One word - Cher, Chevy Chase, Goldie Hawn.
Today names are manipulated. They sound
the same with just a tweak of letters.
Like Kym, Davyd, and Naatlee.
And Poetry Soup, you are much
like that stew of names — our own game
of Hollywood Squares.
With questions, truth and lies, a variety of categories.
We have our Phyllis Dillers, Paul Lyndes and even Vincent Prices.
I swim in the sea of names, enjoy our friendship, our love
for poetry. Like pen pals from around the world — we write.
5/25/2018
*Hollywood Squares - American Game Show
*Guess Who - American Board Game for kids
Is there no place to cast my eyes and look
Without the mug of the felonous crook
Ranting til he turns red
What was it that he said?
"I couldn't care less!" The attitude he took
He doesn't care if his tariffs raise prices
Obsufcation is one of his devices
Scooby Dubious is he
People are blind not to see
Vengeance is one of his many vices
It's Trump this and Trump that. Enough. Good grief!
Aleve, please. My headache needs quick relief
It's attention he seeks
With greediness he reeks
Dictator Donald: Kommandant in Chief
Americans are rising in revolt
Some in the party have started to bolt
In scandal he's basking
And many are asking,
"How ya like him now, that dictating dolt?"
The monitors above her head
would flicker light around.
The registers with type print on
would say 'no price was found'.
And Kathy stood behind the cash-
a beakon crowned with cap
to wish the people WELCOME.
A smile with-out crap.
A leopard bearing blue eyes,
Kathy stood to serve.
Her manners more expicit.
Her bravery without nerve.
An auburn light upon her.
It bronzing her blond hair.
Her torso come to teeter
with patience and with flair.
Surrounding her were donuts
encased in white-lit glass.
Where Kathy learned to gesture
and glance at them with class.
With prices all around her
on menu's black and white.
It's said that Kathy juggles
a combo for a knight.
But if you see her waiting,
it's not for Mr. Right.
It's under 20 minutes
and her coffee's a delight.
After much consideration, I believe
Most people dim hope tight cleave.
Grief is the vital human weave.
There is comfort in easiness.
People find delight in sleaziness.
All are believed to speak falsities ness.
Fear does not lead to depression or rage.
For a while, fleeting yaw fears cast and assuage.
Akin to ice cream when entirely dodge.
If you've seen the colors, you cannot refuse them.
If you've heard the sounds, you cannot reject them.
If you put in a bit of effort, you will grow wisdom.
People have been enduring painful toil.
People have been rejecting any embroil
The activity took them away from the turmoil.
The prices were significantly lower.
The risk of depleting their savings rise slower
Desiring to save money while playing poker.
This universe has been wholly upended.
I must do it until the day I fall dead.
You must proceed once the tank is loaded.
Let's atone for what happened in the past.
The obvious is simply being assert
Tomorrow will be here and even fast.
In the vast domain where currencies converse,
Fear and courage in the Forex universe.
It's more than a gamble, a financial ballet,
Diverse perspectives in the trading array.
Risk management, the wise trader's guide,
Navigating currents, where fortunes reside.
A dance with volatility, charts unfold,
In this market tale, stories untold.
Autotrading robots join the scene,
Executing trades with algorithms keen.
Yet amidst automation's calculated might,
Human insight still steers the night.
Institutions play a role profound,
In the Forex orchestra, where echoes resound.
Their moves, a ripple in the market sea,
Shaping the currency symphony.
Bigger whales, guardians of vast wealth,
In charge of exchanges, controlling the health.
Platform prices dance to their sway,
In this financial theater, night and day.
The market, a canvas of highs and lows,
Where fortune's river in complexity flows.
Yet amidst the chaos, a mantra remains,
Risk management, reigning over gains.
The Forex tale, a narrative complex,
A blend of skill, luck, and market reflex.
In the midst of uncertainty, traders persist,
Navigating the currents, in the market's twist.
In the vast domain where currencies converse,Fear and courage in the Forex universe.It's more than a gamble, a financial ballet,Diverse perspectives in the trading array.Risk management, the wise trader's guide,Navigating currents, where fortunes reside.A dance with volatility, charts unfold,In this market tale, stories untold.Autotrading robots join the scene,Executing trades with algorithms keen.Yet amidst automation's calculated might,Human insight still steers the night.Institutions play a role profound,In the Forex orchestra, where echoes resound.Their moves, a ripple in the market sea,Shaping the currency symphony.Bigger whales, guardians of vast wealth,In charge of exchanges, controlling the health.Platform prices dance to their sway,In this financial theater, night and day.The market, a canvas of highs and lows,Where fortune's river in complexity flows.Yet amidst the chaos, a mantra remains,Risk management, reigning over gains.The Forex tale, a narrative complex,A blend of skill, luck, and market reflex.In the midst of uncertainty, traders persist,Navigating the currents, in the market's twist.
political prostitution
not stable
not even with their
words nor
actions
they got no vision
for the people
is just about business
yet we pay the
price of their games
political prostitution
not reliable
never keep to
his words
his action are
painted with
colours of manipulation
he never stand for
his country
neither does he
defends the justice
of the land
is business as usual
yet we pay the prices
of their games
political prostitution
never work with one
political party
always jumping around
hoping off and on
from one political power
to another
for his own interest
always denouncing out
and swearing in to
different parties
like prostitute
he go no mission
for us
but vision to earn
more money
the parties are their
shad
political prostitution
always with lies
always manipulating
always deceiving
always intimidating
we need them no more
we need to move
ahead
we have had enough
the more of their shadow
the more suffering keep
knocking on our doors
the more protest
on our street
the deaths on our streets
the inflation on our land
so if we must survive
we need no more
political prostitution
It juts out by the river road,
traffic passes it each morn,
what’s left of the old aqueduct,
something stately, yet still forlorn.
The rock, with no mortar, was set
so fine it would make Incas proud,
precise enough to still hold up
today, and centuries from now.
There’s a display with a picture
of how it looked in days of old,
twenty arches spanned the river,
hand-built by men flinty and bold.
On it ran the Erie Canal,
crossing the rough Mohawk below,
on barges towed by stubborn mules,
the trips were long, steady, and slow.
This once helped open the Midwest
to settlers, to goods and trade,
but that’s a different country now,
and long ago such things did fade.
The roads and rails brought prices down,
and moved much quicker than a mule,
they went and dammed the river up,
much wider than some man-made pool.
That fact, alas, would be its end,
the arches blocked the way of boats,
and in the winter jammed the ice,
so floods onto spring banks would flow.
They blew up all the arches grand,
only those by the shore remain,
buried half of that great canal,
now barely known, save for the name.
Those who still use the aqueduct
are kids leaping into the drink,
someday they’ll try to shut that down,
claiming that it’s a ‘safety thing.’
And the arches that look just like
something made back in ancient Rome,
will be like all great things men built,
reduced to naught but broken stone.
A WAVE SPLASHING FLOW OF
WARS, LANDS, SEAS, AND US
Today’s war waves flow;
Oily frothing away lives
And once useless ships:
Soaring ships costing so much
To be replaced and bombed out:-
Today’s warring times
Unanchors old warrior ways
Of making money:-
Not only do gas prices rise,
But also its shipping cost:-
Ocean warring times
Leave much collateral ways
To make land-money:-
Land-money to support the
On land-power mongering:-
On land or the sea,
Political war making
Is about money:
Money to support power;
Not winning equality:-
Just check it all out,
And see what this war has done
To poor you and me:
We do not have equity,
Justice, nor democracy:-
Final awareness:
Oceans have us surrounded;
Ships daily cruising.
Can not warships also cruise,
Right up to our shores as well?