Long Publicly Poems
Long Publicly Poems. Below are the most popular long Publicly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Publicly poems by poem length and keyword.
A HUMBLED MAN
A humbled man
Listens to the wisdom
His mother has instilled in him
A humbled man
Will take that wisdom
And apply it to his life
A humbled man
Will learn how to be a man
Through the Word of God
A humbled man
Lives by the Word of God daily
And not just when he feels like it
A humbled man
Has integrity
A humbled man
Not only has
But shows the love of Jesus inside him
A humbled man
Has forgiveness
Rather than unforgiveness
A humbled man
Does not react but instead prays
Allowing God to have control
A humbled man
Will never lay hands
Abusively upon a woman
A humbled man
Treats a woman with respect
A humbled man
Loves his wife
As Christ loves His church
A humbled man
Doesn’t always pass blame on his wife
A humbled man
Takes fault for his own actions
A humbled man
Won’t force his wife to do something publicly
To make him look good
A humbled man
Will treat his wife #1
At ALL times
A humbled man
Will hold his wife in moments
When she needs him
A humbled man
Takes time to bond with his wife daily
A humbled man
Takes time to get to know his wife daily
A humbled man
Never takes his marriage for granted
A humbled man
Won’t just pick and choose one of these moments
But will apply them all to his marriage
“Fortress”
‘Love
is stronger
than death
Belief
dwells in
the refuge
and the fortress …’
she said.
Back then,
true romance was lost
in the subterranean
frequency
poets, musicians, artists
were crucified publicly
for free thoughts on how
it all really was … meant to be
Life and
freedom
we were all lost
looking for the
reality in Life
and its true meaning
Books and lives burned
stories irretrievable
destroyed by all the me too’s
and you too’s,
who gallantly
turned,
averting their eyes
ignoring all the injustice,
charity their home first, this
no startling surprise
as the whole world turned
on its rotisserie, over well-done
shreds of self roasted soul
were coming greasily undone
still -
that one word
called us
all back in
into our dampening
what-if-dreams-were-not-dead
songs-to-be-sung,
stories-still-to-be-written, not hung
it continually
whispered its presence,
its promises incessant
called us all back in
some of us listened,
others of us considered
it all some kind of
freak-filled nonsense
None of us
truly understood it all
back then, grasped the reason
for our complex fall
until the last of the fires
burned out and
the call was still calling
all the burning brides in
its true revelation
its meaningful meaning
in the underrated time
of the great reckoning
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"Come to Life"/ Kanye West
https://youtu.be/7SsrVGHJvaA
fortress.
bride.
revelation.
LYRICS/ "Come to Life", Kanye West
https://genius.com/Kanye-west-come-to-life-lyrics
Disasters have plagued our planet since the dawn of time,
When primitive creatures rose from primordial slime,
And a comet came down to hit a dinosaur’s head,
Causing a headache so bad, he was better off dead.
So, he asked the plain question, “to be or not to be?”
And invented Tylenol with codeine, number three.
Before you know it, Mount Vesuvius exploded,
And many kilometers of magma unloaded.
Thousands were inundated - a woeful loss of life,
One man frozen stiff forever with his neighbor’s wife.
The Chicago Fire was equally terrible.
To be cooked alive is certainly unbearable.
As disasters go, this undoubtedly qualifies.
Mrs. O’Leary’s cow did publicly apologize.
When the South Fork Dam breached, to people’s worst fears,
The Johnstown Flood immersed folks here and there to their ears.
If you happened to be shorter than five foot-seven,
You saw a few fish, and then you went up to heaven.
This holiday season, some fun you may wish to poke
At me, as you might Scrooge or Grinch, but this ain’t no joke.
Prepare for a worse catastrophe, never seen before,
One you can’t ignore, which will knock you right to the floor,
Let me underscore, get ready, there’s food to store…for
The Great California Quake of Twenty-Twenty Four.
Four of us sat in a nice big round circle,
Ready to play truth or dare.
Whether to perform a lurid act,
Or, our secrets, to publicly share.
Steve chose a dare, the bravest of all,
To walk down the main street at night.
We'd dress him in drag, bright lipstick too,
He'd strut alone, in full public sight.
We dropped him at one end, then went to the other,
And laughed and giggled at our fun.
We sat in our car, a little concerned,
After an hour he still hadn't come.
So we walked along, to find and surprise him,
To return his clothes in a bag.
We froze when we saw his stabbed lifeless body,
The bloody note on chest reading "***".
Today is April Twenty Third
By Franklin Price
4/23/2018
Today is April twenty third,
It's the best day of my life.
In the event, you haven't heard,
It's the birthday, of Barb, my wife.
Today she is three score and ten
She is my moon and sun
Our lives together did begin
When she was one score one
I know that God was looking
And was watching out for me
He planned my wedding booking
To the best wife there could be
This is not an anniversary write
Though it sounds it could be so
Her birthday, remembered, since that night,
We were married long ago.
Now that I've publicly declared
The birthday of my mate,
And how our lives together fared,
How she was born on this date,
It's time I moved this poem along
To wish the one that it's about
A Happy Birthday with a song
When she awakes, I'll sing it out
(personal to Barbara)
Happy Birthday, sweetheart
Wife, lover and best friend
In my life, you are the best part
And will be, 'til the end
It's three thirty in the morning time
As I write this in our home
Must close this rather lengthy rhyme
Ere it becomes a tome
In closing, I would like to say
I love you more and more
Looking forward to each birthday
As you can see, I'm keeping score
10.
the apparent golden pot that i thought
to be the underneath of a kadam-tree
in the dim light i can notice that
the stars in the sky are disappearing
this session of poetry
is coming to an end
now where would i
go
to that little home
the home
a tiny word of 4 letters
within that home
the children are giggling
playing … and making funs
when i entered
with a tri-cycle in hand
for them
i have been perplexed
many old persons are waiting there
to shake hands with me
11.
almost most of my desires
are very much hurt
to show it publicly
i wrap bandages
around all over my body
i keep on the stage-drama
in our programme of reading poetry
tea is served twice
current has gone off for three times
for four times the mobiles ring
to pick up love
some people think about returning back
from today’s dais to the ancient stage
of performing folk-drama
then they are also sympathetic
to my sufferings
12.
everyday
on my way to return home from the school
when my mom took hold of my hands
i could see in my body
the dancing of an unforgettable
aura
even now that mystical halo is walking
on the leaves of the trees
to fulfil my mornings
that wayfaring along the road
is ringing far and far-off
thus taking bath in every day’s
dust smoke hue and cry
many such love
gradually gets aged
is it true
in the long run
i too
would be the ingredient
of a fairy-tale
just because i love
that paddy field
some time later
she will also become
human
13.
then she will make all of us
join her walking
those inmost feeling
those memories meditations
the loneliness and solitude…
sans the touch of the imagination of
a crater…
a creator…
this blunder…
this socially outcast white …
this type of uneven…
and irrelevance…
sume words
when peep in the mind
i surprise to see that
it’s ten to 2 at night
then in the balcony
my father is crying
he always notices some grave-yard men
in front of him
and sheds tears
A GARLAND OF ROSES FOR MY POEt FRIENDS
People in my present
and those in my past.
Mean more to me than
any other happening.
I know their names, their
smiles and hugs and as
long as I live, their faces,
love and attitudes, really
overwhelm me with sunrise
gratitude.
I need not be the leader of
the poetical pack!
But they comment, soupmail
and are such a support, I know
that they always have my back.
I wanted to thank all most publicly.
With humbleness and simplicity.
Some make me laugh at my
constantly questioning myself!
I am not Sarah Sonnet and not
the best!
But for my circle of friends, know
that I will have a smile on face each
day, and on the final one.
When I am put to final rest....
Gratefully,
Panagiota
6/22/2021
*****
Dedicated to all those special to me:
You know who you are!
Positive psychology
of enlightened empowerment,
contrasted with economically unenlightened
and politically disempowering trauma
Through millennia of emergent anthro-hubris
monoculturalism
monotheism
and anthropocentric
value-monopolistic
capitalism
Brings us into each mindful conscious moment
of co-empathic win/win
AnthroMind/EarthBody health-wealthy trust
Faith in co-passionate LeftBrain/RightEmBodied bicameral
cognitive-verbal/intuitive-nonverbal powers
potentiating sacred co-passion
conjoining organic cooperative pleasure
In discovering co-relational health powers
and ecologically wealthy light
within both public and personal transformative domains
Neurological anthro-scapes
and ecological landscapes
positive win/win networking
toward culture/climate health,
interior as exterior
Powers to love,
to compassionately communicate
verbally and nonverbally
what we all wish to become
To give forward co-redemptive democratic health
and ecologically valued inter-religious wealth
Not ever-more privately condemning,
and publicly criminalizing,
marginalizing,
capitalizing against
eviscerating powers
To ever-more polyculturally engage
polytheistic
EarthJustice
sacred-mind/organic-body vocational destiny
of sufficiency
simplicity
compassionately pleasing peace.
Positive local-ego and global-eco balanced psychology
through more cooperative bicameral discourse
and less competitive anthropocentric debate
Co-passionate discernment
for happy, healthy, and kind multicultural ecotherapy
Not degenerating ever-more losses
into frenzied
cognitive v intuitive
thought v feeling
mind v matter
sacred v organic
brain v body
human v divine
Dissonance
dissociation
dualism
divorce
demented LeftBrain domination writ large
Global economic and political competition values
deemed more evolutionarily efficacious
than cooperative bicameral
dipolar co-arising
co-passionately co-empathic
peaceful pleasures
of AnthroMindFullness inside
EarthEmbodied integrity
inter-religiously manifest
outside
Together
embracing positive eco-psychology
of enlightened empowerment,
contrasted with economically unenlightened
and politically disempowering
irreligious RightWing trauma.
Children as young as three years old,
Killed for not doing as they’re told,
Forced to forget their culture bold,
What a tragedy to unfold!
Two hundred fifteen, that ain’t less,
Young innocents abused, suppressed,
How can humans be so heartless?
It breaks my heart, I must confess,
Wonder, how they would have pleaded?
Their cries for mercy unheeded
Residential schools, not needed,
Were soon closed, but lives conceded,
In the name of education,
A way of ‘assimilation’,
Native kids faced termination,
What a gruesome excavation!
07.01.2021
{On 28 May, 2021, the bodies of 215 children were discovered in a burial site at the grounds of the Kamloops Indian Residential School using new, ground-penetrating technology. The deaths are believed to be undocumented. The school, which was closed in the late 1970s, is located in Tk’emlúps te Secwépemc First Nation. First Nations refer to a section of indigenous inhabitants of Canada, along with Inuits and Métis people.
Between 1831 and 1996, Canada’s residential school system forcibly separated more than 1.5 lakh First Nations children from their families in order to assimilate them into the Euro-Canadian and Christian ways of living. They were forbidden to acknowledge their indigenous heritage and culture or to speak their own languages.
According to an information resource set up by the University of British Columbia, children were subjected to physical, sexual, emotional, and psychological abuse.
In 2008, then Prime Minister Stephen Harper publicly issued an apology, on behalf of the Government of Canada, to all indigenous people acknowledging the country’s role in the residential school system.}
For Edward Ibeh's "This or That, Vol 4" contest
In the blush of new vows, beneath a veil laced with disdain,
She rose like a queen in her freshly forged reign.
Arrogant bloom in a garden of friends, ever keen
To please them with wit, lest their favor should wane.
Not one word to offend, no ripple to mar their delight
Yet her tongue, sharp as thorns, turned upon her own knight.
“Oh, bless his dull heart,” she would trill with a glittering laugh,
“How he stumbles through ledgers, how he snores like a calf.
Men are but props in our liberated play
See how I rule him, yet stand independent and gay!”
Her friends sipped their secrets, eyes veiled in polite disguise,
Their marriages rooted in quieter skies.
They nodded and chuckled, safe in their long-harvested peace,
While she carved at his pride for their fleeting applause, piece by piece.
He bore the bright barbs with a smile cracked and thin,
As her pride danced for approval, chasing their spin.
Each jest was a chisel, each laugh a small blade,
Till the marble of marriage in silence decayed.
The ring slipped like sand through her arrogant grasp,
The papers arrived cold, sealing vows to the past.
She lost him, the husband she publicly shamed
While her friends’ unions endured, unmarred and untamed.
Now silence descends like a frost on her door.
Invitations grow scarce; group whispers no more.
Her calls echo hollow through corridors bare,
Her friends drift like leaves on a wind of cold care.
They shield their own husbands with courteous shields,
Afraid of her influence, her mocking that yields
Only ruin and regret in its arrogant wake
A plague they would spare from their own hearths’ sake.
“She pleased us too dearly,” they murmur in shaded retreat,
“Her fire consumed what she claimed was her seat.”
Alone in the echo of laughter once sown,
She clutches the crown of a queen overthrown.
For pride, when it sharpens its wit on love’s breast,
Cuts deepest the hand that once held it in jest.
She traded her union for friends’ fleeting cheer,
And watched, in the ruins, her arrogance clear:
The circle she courted now circles away,
Protecting their gardens from her withering sway.