Long Quieten Poems
Long Quieten Poems. Below are the most popular long Quieten by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Quieten poems by poem length and keyword.
Three Cheers To Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis
Momma mia man date
comb the second Sunday
during month of May
can be traced back
to ancient Greeks and Romans
devotional festivals held
to honor mother goddesses Rhea and Cybele
setting precedent for Mother's Day
where early Christians fancied festival
known as “Mothering Sunday,”
the other three hundred
and sixty five or six,
when leap year occurs,
especially Jewish mothers smother
also manifest courtesy
eldest sister or brother.
Fast forward to the early
twentieth century 1908 when
Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis
(a social activist then,
and community organizer
during American Civil War) era to quieten
grief fraught era also cited
as informally memorializing her mother,
who begot said noble men
touring daughter
paying homage to woebegone
lachrymose role with accolades
to endure tragedy and loss put upon
childbearing women,
this event held (rain or sun)
at St Andrew's Methodist Church
in Grafton, West Virginia, which did quicken
in subsequent decades to formal fete,
where poets (like me) did open
the special occasion with ranked midshipmen
commercialization cropped as ken
be expected by the early 1920's embolden
greeting card companies
such as Hallmark generated a market
(money making of course) even
though Jarvis believed
companies sought profit
NOT prophet, thus misinterpreting
and exploiting idea
of Mother's Day and met
aforementioned founder, who tried to jet
tis sin the vulgar appetite
of the ole mighty dollar,
but her lofty ambition did get
thwarted by mass marketing
the quaint idea,
plus she feared going in debt
and though the industry
(initially proposed entailed low key
acknowledgement, the originator
(Ann Marie Jarvis) still esteemed,
fêted, lionized, revered re:
formed unsanitary
squalid living conditions with zee
less ness and aplomb
set a course where
greater longevity doth hum
bull all because, she sought to regale mum
(mine) deceased after rigor mortis
immediately thereafter her sole son
found himself saddened severely glum,
and uncomfortably numb.
And you can't paint him a laugh
his face is a metal curtain
with attached sign -
no emotions allowed
you can't
nor you know how
and you gladly would
breathe life into those cells
the same way that life spat in your face
acknowledgment of successfully driven tokens at belonging columns
and you, men
women
don't be mad
because yours are misplaced all over that ludo board
it was a bad, bad idea
to implement that rule of maneuvering the game according to rolls of a single die
countless thoughts
questions
from the other side only
crystally voiceless visage
in the course of the night, a view flies there
where ripped breaths on a baby's mattress
quieten the trepidation down
I'm a bad person
I really am
but if tomorrow I learn how to smile instead of him
maybe my name will get to Saint Peter's list
I asked the dark to let me see
A reflection of myself could it be?
Still darkness all around, covering me
Feeding a sense of hope or just insanity?
I felt at home in this place where no light could be
I asked the silence to speak my name
To tell me why I felt such pain
Whispers and lies, tears in the rain
No peace for me while I remain
I asked the night to let me be
To quieten my mind, to let it free
Freedom is hard to find where lies cage reality
Do we ever see ourself or die trying to see?
I asked the darkness in my soul
To escape into the night, to be at one and grow
I'll leave a part of me around so that you can know
About the broken dreams and silent screams of this restless soul.
momma mia man date
comb the second Sunday during month of May
can be traced back to ancient Greeks and Romans
festivals held
to honor mother goddesses Rhea and Cybele
setting precedent for Mother's Day
where early Christians fancied festival
known as “Mothering Sunday.”
Fast forward to the early
twentieth century 1908 when
Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis (a social activist then,
and community organizer
during American Civil War) era to quieten
grief fraught era also cited
as informally memorializing her mother,
who begot said noble men
touring daughter
paying homage to woebegone
lachrymose role with accolades
to endure tragedy and loss put upon
child bearing women,
this event held (rain or sun)
at St Andrew's Methodist Church
in Grafton, West Virginia, which did quicken
in subsequent decades to formal fete,
where poets (like me) did open
the special occasion with ranked midshipmen
commercialization cropped as ken
be expected by the early 1920's imbolden
greeting card companies such as Hallmark gen
er rated a market (money making of course) even
though Jarvis believed companies sought profit
NOT prophet, thus misinterpreting
and exploiting idea of Mother's Day and met
aforementioned founder, who tried to jet
tis sin the vulgar appetite of the ole mighty dollar,
but her lofty ambition did get
thwarted by mass marketing
the quaint idea,
plus she feared going in debt
and though the industry
(initially proposed entailed low key
acknowledgement, the originator
(Ann Marie Jarvis) still esteemed re
formed unsanitary living conditions with zee
less ness and aplomb
set a course where greater longevity doth hum
all because, she sought to regale "mum."
White Discussion
Man down they said
but it's ok we don't know the whole story,
let's check out his previous history,
I say you can't justify another casualty.
Man down they said
but it's ok his previous convictions
mean he didn't have a say.
I say criminality don't lessen your humanity.
Man down they said
but it's ok 'cos he had a bad cheque
the whole world watched screaming
get off his spine,
get off his neck.
Can you tone down your voice,
can you quieten your pain
we don't want it spilling,
out of your neighbourhood again
can you please not mention like white fragility,
'cos you know we don't see colour and we're all about equality.
If you keep inside your homes
we'll have some more discussions,
where we'll look into the matter,
before we white wash the blood splatter,
we promise they'll be change
but first let's reassign the blame.
Locked within the four walls of my home
Eyes glazed and fixed at the lights within the glass dome
I turn inwards into the inner sanctuary of my soul
Mortality staring at me, eternity my ultimate goal
Wow the entire world at a stand still
But who can quieten the mind which runs like a windmill
Casting aside the cares and worries, indomitable the human will
Knows how to weave in pleasure, each moment happily kill
Never have I had so much rest
Moments spent like a lavish holiday in my own nest
Locked from without but unlocked from within
As they say every dark cloud with silver lining.
Most summer nights were hot, humid, and LONG.
Kids were manageable, and the men were STRONG.
Women were smart; could name that tune on any given SONG.
That is, the songs of everyday life, thereby keeping us from the WRONG.
And then, there were the gentle friendly visitors, provisions of Mother Nature.
When the happy LIGHTENING BUGS arrived with LIGHT during the early parts of the NIGHT, we could not help but wonder, "Where's the power plug that gives them their SPARK?" The CRICKETS soothed us lovingly, as we rested and dreamed late into the quieten DARK. No one invited them, yet with delight and playfulness, they faithfully CAME. On clear and dark nights without a SOUND, they lit up the big sky, bringing medicine without PAIN, and
more fun than a kid had a right to; enough to ASTOUNE.
And when the ROOSTERS felt we had slept enough, they CROWED.
They knew that time could not wait; it was time for wheels to ROLL.
Watchmen of the dawn, so faithful to their early morning chores, I wondered who taught them to be so BOLD.
081421PS
The three friends are in Caps; Rhymes are in Caps.
Folks say I'm struggling
That I'm old and confused,
They don't see all the haggling
Which leaves them bemused.
My colleagues are wordy
My enemies too,
But my willpower is sturdy
As I'm all for the Blue.
If now a bit slower
Even friends I seem faze,
But post Trump the bar's lower
And that's my fail safe.
The Media's a pain
What's with the shouting,
I shan't play their game
Their continual doubting.
Then there's old Bernie
And his Marxists galore,
With their bone headed journey
To simply point score.
Republicans matter not a bit in my mind
Obstructive and loudly they wail,
But Politics taught to never be kind
So let them act up and sullenly rail.
As to the Trumpers, what can I say
They live in a universe all of their own,
Their partisan anger a cause for dismay
While the stolen election they relive every day.
When all's said and done I'm proud of my job
Obama's on side to bring me relief,
My one secret weapon to quieten the mob
Sharing the load to make my weeks brief.
A thousand, or more, people in trance,
Locked in a blackened out vault,
Give themselves to a warm, calming feel,
Throw away all of their thought,
Then the show gets loud, who will you be,
You choose leather jacket and jeans,
You choose to be the love heart in the middle,
Of love in your wildest dreams,
And the drums are alive, with the rhythm of now,
They take from you total control,
Forcing your thoughts to quieten down,
This magical balm for your soul,
These thousands of people at a gig in your head,
The music alone in the dark,
Calm your thoughts to a single one voice,
Setting your mind to restart.
In my mind on my time
I row down the river of dreams
on days the water is calm
and I row in peaceful solitude
sometimes coming to a place
where it babbles wanting to race
then it will carry me or a while
we will drift along the current
then we will come to a spot
where we race along the rapids
being tossed and turned
if lucky the river will quieten
and not be overtaken by flow
every so often we hit white water
it is like riding a roller coaster
our dreams are taken on a ride
we are to awaken and see the danger
that the once calm peaceful river
has become a place of danger
a place where solitude no longer exists
it is time to pick up the paddle
battle the waging currents
loftily encroaching our dreams.