Long Races Poems
Long Races Poems. Below are the most popular long Races by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Races poems by poem length and keyword.
Goodbye.
Alone, and sad. He swings.
Fearing a future, dreading his past.
What comes next? What happened?
His eyes full of a thousand years worth of the pain of loss.
Hands knitted together, one grasping the other.
Feet dangling helplessly inches above the ground.
His mind races
Everything else around him slows to a stop and fades to nothing.
That one moment, that changed everything
Eats him alive from the inside out.
Why did it have to be this way?
What could he have done to stop it?
Would it have even mattered?
He could save the world, and solve any problem.
But, is it worth it? When he can’t save himself?
COLOR BLIND
I thought it was over, though I could never understand
Why we can't walk down the street, holding different hands
'Can't walk side by side, have to have a divide
Sepreate fountains, Sepreate seats, treated as a disease
This is not what God see in me
I'm a black beauty, yet treated as a black beast
My Caucasian friends has departed from me
Hello? the 1st amendment is not reachable
Trying to teach me things that not even teachable
yet, the brains of our people are so knowledgeable
White and black really nothing different but the color
yet, many petty on me as if I could change my color
You stalk me as if I could change the weather
but you are more ignorant than I thuoht if you judge by color
Some could never fill my shoes I been through every scene
Time to wake up colors are not what they seem
What if colors were never discover
We do the same things but why are we on different teams
I wish black and whites could come together like martin seen in his dream
You hear me! but Seriously, you don't really know what i mean
You don't know the feeling,
I was scarred like a slave and still in the process of heeling
I still carry the whips on my back from being beat and viciously degraded
but you wanna know what is crazy? I was born after slavery
Color blind...... in a world full of colors
Why do different races try to hurt one another
We both were birth by mothers, walk the same earth, eat alike
Yet why do I feel different
if you haven't notice, whats been going on, you haven't been paying attention
it's not what you did to me or what I've I done to you
We are differnet indivaluls you cant categorize a color
Rasicm will end in the end of ime
but as of now nothing is wrong with the world their just COLOR BLIND
England, my new home, land of green hills and misty skies,
Where the clouds gather like a promise of rain,
And the ancient stones whisper secrets of old.
The streets are paved with history,
And the buildings tell stories of a bygone era,
Of kings and queens, wars and victories,
A tapestry woven with the threads of time.
The people are a kaleidoscope of culture,
From the East End to the rolling countryside,
A melting pot of races, religions, and beliefs,
Living together in a harmony that is uniquely English.
As I walk through the city, I am struck by the beauty,
The Gothic spires, the cobbled alleys, the vibrant markets,
And I know that I have found my place in the world,
My home, my heart, my England.
Your smile
ever so bright
and right
Lights up the gloom
in my life
Your smile so bright,
tender and soothing.
in my mind eyes
Your smile
so pure, innocent and endearing
so intense and warm, leaves me in a whirl in passion
Your smile,
sometime fleeting like a butterfly
romance with petals.
Your smile ever permanent
always threatening to break the surface
races my pulse pulling me through
a long forgotten part
pulling ,me through a long forgotten trail
the part of memory long submerged
Your smile
wiped away my sorrows
like the early morning sun
licking up the early dew drop
make your smile a permanent feature of me
and inspire me with undying joy
He struts like a rooster in a gilded cage,
Tweets his manifesto, page by page.
Venezuela’s oil? “Mine, mine, mine!”
He shouts like a child, crossing every line.
Maduro yawns, sipping Maduro-brand rum,
Russia chuckles: “Here comes the scum.”
Beijing sips tea, eyebrows raised,
Watching the circus, utterly amazed.
“Sanctions!” he cries, waving a paper sword,
“Oil will bow, the world will applaud!”
But China just nods, “Cute little man,
Try that again — see if you can.”
Russia whispers, “Let him play,
We’ll cash in quietly while he flaps away.”
Venezuela smirks, Maduro’s grin,
“Oh, Trump thinks he’ll win? How thin.”
He tweets at midnight, demands a parade,
A hall of mirrors where deals are made.
Allies flee, foes giggle in halls,
The empire he builds? Just paper walls.
Every action a spectacle, every thought a meme,
The world watches, half laughter, half scream.
China, Russia, Venezuela — a trio of calm,
While Trump storms the stage with blustered charm.
Power and oil swirl in a dizzying spin,
He dances, he stomps, he spins in sin.
But satire bites sharper than gilded hair,
And the circus may crumble while he’s still there.
The Circus in Caracas
He prowls the stage with gold-lit hair,
A kingdom imagined, a lion in air.
Tweets crack like whips, warnings loud,
A circus of power, drawing the crowd.
Venezuela shivers beneath his claim,
Oil fields like jewels, a geopolitical game.
Maduro smirks, Russia nods with glee,
Beijing watches, calculating quietly.
Sanctions fly like confetti torn,
Promises of deals, of empire reborn.
But every boast, every law he bends,
Draws the world’s sharp gaze, foes and friends.
China leans in with icy disdain,
“Mess with us, and you’ll feel the chain.”
Russia waits with a soldier’s grin,
Watching the chaos he drags them in.
His mind races, plotting, aware,
But wisdom hides, lost somewhere.
A kingdom of tweets cannot hold the night,
When giants awaken and armies write.
Alliances fray like worn-out rope,
Oil flows, but so does hope.
For every risk, a price unseen,
A global stage, ruthless and mean.
He stands tall, yet shadows grow,
The circus erupts — who wins? Who bows?
Power tastes sweet, yet stings like flame,
And history waits to carve his name.
Softly, gently crooning,
A conch shell held to ear
Hear it's howl as it precedes a storm
It's gentle trill as it skims the trickling stream
teasing ripples along it's path.
Listen to it's roar
as it races through chasms
Listen to it's hiss as we inhale then exhale
To it's whisper as it sneaks through
cracks and crevices chilling our bones.
Listen to it's laughter gurgling accross the bluff
swaying the leaves of trees
that echo it's laughter long after it's gone
Listen to it's whisper of love
as it caresses your cheek and strokes your hair.
Listen to it's tantalizing whoosh
as it swirls around you
lifting your skirt with unexpected swiftness
leaving all bare for curious eyes to view
Can you hear it, can you hear it now?
Can you hear the voices in the wind?
Listen again
Be still awhile ..Listen
Listen to the voices in the wind.
The march and Chant
We Shall Overcome and we can
We must be on the mission shall
On Dr. King’s Birthday, we must do more than just reflect on his accomplishment and establishment
A call for action
Civil Rights call
Dr. King’s vision is still among us
His Legacy reigns
Stand Up with Head Up
It’s dignity and Reality
We have abilities and assurance
We are the strength in endurance
Dr. King’s influence
There is a cause and we are the effect
It matters when and how
We are the now
A need for change and rearrange
No time to blame
Civil Rights aim
Bulls eye right on target
Dr. King wants us to wake up and not pause on his dream
Waters are flowing and we can’t just let go dry
We are America
Be ever proud
This is all Races time
Dr. King wants us to all to come together and converse
His message is clear in how we will preserver
Dr. King is looking down on us from Heaven and wondering
Did his cause die in vain?
The mission he couldn’t finish must be continued
There is work to be done if we intend to be among
Dr. King was the purpose and we are the supporters yet to walk in Dr. King’s footsteps
Step by step ever Civil Rights closer
The Lord says, “I am the world’s firm foundation”
The creation being Mighty
Don’t settle, but speak out
Don’t be still, but have a determined will
Civil Rights is still needed to fulfill
Dr. King’s birthday I couldn’t let go by
Let us all fight for Civil Rights and have courage in the movement to try
Dr. King wants us to stand with him and in honor of him
I still hear the echoes of “WE SHALL OVERCOME”.
I sing a song of three.
There’s Larry, Curly, Moe;
the Ego and the Id
and the Super Ego.
Three Kings of the Orient
are known as three wise men.
Showing up at Christmas too
in song are three French hens.
Rock, paper, scissors -
three gestures with the hand;
tricycles; three-legged races -
things of kiddie land.
Three little kittens; three blind mice;
three were the billy goats gruff.
three bags of wool; three little pigs;
three bears for Goldilocks were more than enough.
Being three sheets to the wind
won’t be very good
if a 3-ring circus
becomes your neighborhood.
But three are the Amigos
and three the Muskateers.
Charlie had three Angels -
they were TV dears!
Huey, Dewey, Louie;
Kirk, Spock and McCoy;
Peter, Paul, and Mary
I sure did enjoy!
Three were Cream, ZZ Top,
Rush and Motorhead,
Diana Ross with her Supremes
(but not the Grateful Dead).
Three’s Company, but three’s a crowd!
Three strikes you’re out: a yard’s three feet.
Three-piece suits and Hanson Brothers.
Girls think those are sweet!
Ice cream Neapolitan
comes in flavors three.
So does three-cheese pizza
or a sandwich BLT.
Three-leaf clovers do abound
though luckier are four.
Yellow, red and blue when mixed
make three colors more.
Three things evil not to do
are to hear, to speak and see.
Holy is the number three
when it’s the Trinity.
Splendid are the trilogies
like Lord of the Rings.
Clearly you can see by now,
in threes there come good things.
Feb. 13, 2021
For the 3 Poetry Contest of Anthony Biaanco
Now for L Milton Hankins' YOUR PERSONAL FAVORITE, NO. 2 Poetry Contest
Standing on a cliff,
overlooking the sight before me,
Below me.
The water tempting,
the thrill exhilarating.
The adrenaline pumping.
The heart races.
The present danger
runs through the mind.
I have been here before.
My focus is more than
any dive.
The heart becomes alive.
Feeling once more as it did,
so long ago.
Forgetting how it could feel like this
once more.
But wanting to try again.
But with it comes a cost.
The possible danger.
The repercussion of crashing.
That feeling I know well.
Never feeling the water below,
but the rocks that could kill you.
Torn up time and time again.
Wondering if this might be different
There comes a time...
There comes a time...
When all is Said and Done
There is nothing more to say or do
All the races have been run.
When all is Said and Done
There's no more music to be played
No more dances to be danced
No more gifts to give away.
When all is Said and Done
There's nothing more to lose
There is nothing more to say or do
It's time to just move on.
When all is Said and Done
There is nothing more to say
Everything has already been said
It's time to move on beyond today.
When all is Said and Done
There is nothing more to do
Everything that could be done
Has already been done
In about as many ways.
When all is Said and Done
There's nothing more to say or do
You can't go back and change the past
Moving forward is all you can do.
When all is Said and Done
All you can do is turn the page
Don't think about the "Could Have Beens"
Don't get caught in that gilded cage.
When all is Said and Done
You need to find the strength to carry on
Things might not be just how you thought they'd be
But the future can still be won.
(December 29, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved