Long Rallied Poems
Long Rallied Poems. Below are the most popular long Rallied by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rallied poems by poem length and keyword.
Warm holes
anticipating slick poles
Wet holes
embracing warm poles
Bipolar linear dark division
flowing downriver nurture valleys
Dipolar round visions
forming mountainous spiral hierarchies
naturally uprising
Ecofeminist journeys inward
and down-valleyed
Egofatherist conquests
growing outward
and up-rallied
Deep waiting
vulnerable black holiness
before highest transparent
widely diverse
best practice polarities
Wet warm birthing wombs
above dry cold dying tombs
Worm downward holes
wet upward trying poles
Yeasty yintegrity holes
engaging just right
tangy yang poles
As empty
anticipates full
As 0
embraces 1
EarthTribe Revolution.
Eighty-four years later -
yet still you bleed
glimmering sheen of oil
from reserves once newly fueled
before you burned
an unsuspecting victim
of the cutting edge
of desperate war.
Your nation rallied fast,
took fiery vengeance of its own
over wooden cities.
One fire deserves another, doesn't it?
And now, keeping watch over your broken form,
your younger sister floats proudly.
She hosted their surrender
Now she remains the other bookend -
The knowing triumph to your ignorant defeat.
And the story is long concluded...
But still you bleed.
written by 17:21
2025-10-22
The world cheered Ukraine;
They fought an aggressor.
David and Goliath,
An evil oppressor.
They took up their arms
In a right and just cause.
For us, this bears out
2A’s opening clause.
And no, my dear child,
Don’t confuse ‘regulated.’
‘Functioning properly’
Could also be stated.
A free state is one
Where its people are free:
Free from aggression,
And from tyranny.
Sometimes this takes
The shape of Putin,
But sometimes tyranny
Comes from within.
See our founders first saw
Themselves under the crown,
But the king piled injustice,
And things all spiraled down.
They rallied together;
They all took up arms.
They fought for their freedom,
For family, for farms.
Thank God they had rifles
And weapons of war;
They broke free of England,
Were subjects no more.
Uvalde’s a horror;
We must look deep within:
The land of the free
Juxtaposed against sin.
Sin’s a quaint little concept
Most will choose to ignore,
But there’s evil within us
All the way to the core.
The child, widow, orphan
we’re called to protect
Will all die beside us
If 2A is wrecked.
We must put down aggressors
Both lone wolves and the State.
For that’s how the founders
Made America great.
No, I can’t afford aircraft
And I can’t afford tanks,
But I’ve got an AR
And I’m keeping it, thanks.
Exquisite are the nights
this shadow walks to lean,
transcending did excite
feeling feeding in it teams,
ravished senses blushing
ached blessings torqued ignite
drawn enfolds in lusting
Water,Fire,Wind … Earth brightened
A rasp of gentle breath
tasting silk dripped nights,
falling sighs in little deaths
sensuous knowing sighted
No reason in the flowing
of interlocking vows,
ecstasy trapped the banging
drowned out screams of now
trickled kisses sprinkled
wicked rallied into fumes,
heating bellowed winds
spell thrown around the room
Unfurled in slowing motion
a flower in the bloom
Sweet the gentle floats
a feather in the wind
languorous is the wanting
being ravished in this sin
throwing off restraint
bedazzled witches bound
beauty in the spooning
can always be profound
Breathing in blasphemed
gloried velvet charms
glowing in the eddy’s
I am sated and disarmed
When you are in love
When you captured my sight I heard a song
Evoking a symphony of feelings quite strong
As cadence of quest reached deep in my heart
Urging in your embrace for the music to start.
We exchanged affection without a spoken word
Falling in love imminently as emotions stirred,
When rhythm of hearts made a passionate claim
As your mature frame seduced my budding flame.
Though you warned me with an adorable plea
I never considered age when I set myself free,
For you adorned me with a grace of sapience
Comforting in intellect derived from experience.
And you bestowed upon me a life of relevance
Ornate in the virtues of brilliant significance,
Treating me like a queen of ardent dream,
Adoring me as if I'm the source of your gleam.
When we encountered a hint of dissonance
You rallied to my aid to console my innocence,
As maven hands ably shaped our relationship
Reveling how amicably you steered our ship.
First time we met, I knew we were meant to be,
Since then it has been a life full of joyous spree,
For age doesn't matter when love writes the lyric
As passion resonates sound of angelic music.
December 11, 2017
Age doesn't matter when you're in love
Sponsor: Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
First Place
I had a lovely little doll got at the tender age of seven.
It was made of fine plastic, with twinkling eyes and golden hair.
At a time when my generation had not heard of Barbie dolls,
My uncle living abroad had gifted it which I held as most dear.
More than anything I treasured it and my friends envied me.
They always rallied around to see and hold it in their hands.
I carried it wherever I went and always slept clutching it.
With its possession, to my parents, I made no more demands.
It looked so pretty in her flitting blue eyes and ponytail.
Dressed in frilled skirt and blouse, she was a beauty and my all.
We were always together day in and out, so inseparable.
But as time skipped, she no more held me in thrall.
I slowly got over my obsession with toys and trinkets.
My bond with the doll grew thinner, I had diverse engagements.
I no more cared for my doll; it lay neglected in some dusty corner.
Seasons rolled and years speeded by, and life took new alignments.
I knew the annual clean-up of my house was long overdue.
Moving the trash, I saw my old doll in a junk box made of plywood.
The very sight brought a surge of sweeping emotions in me
Dusting it, I locked it up in my cabinet, a sweet reminder of my childhood!
Happy family
When I was 51 I had an affair with dancer
She didn`t want the baby and gave it to me.
Can you imagine? The village women rallied around
A thought is how to change nappies.
I also had to take in a dog no one wanted because it was
aggressive, not a bit of it she had a purpose in life
protecting me and the baby.
Years passed and when she was six she began school
I drove her there but had to sit outside so she could
see me, later that day we drove into town to buy
suitable clothes what I picked out she didn`t like
so I left her to it.
I heard a scream; she was in a panic I was not there
picked her up she clung to me and said: daddy never
leave me. We were a happy little family the doom-struck
her mother came back and claimed the child there
was little could do, so dog went behind the sofa sulking
I sat on the sofa drinking wine.
Life goes on the dog and I went for walks that got shorter
and shorter as she was quite elderly had a white snout
and sagging stomach and was grumpy in the morning.
One day I went into town when coming back she had died.
I borrowed a spade to dig a hole but had no strength
Bu I saw two big sandstones leaning toward each other
Forming a grotto I put her in there.
As I said year’s passes when I was 71 I needed surgery
Think it is called a bypass, sitting there with a tube in my stomach
There was a knock on the door and in came my daughter
Cried as I have never cried before, she was studying
to become a doctor. When I was feeling better I wanted
to take the bus home. She would hear nothing of it
And arranged for an ambulance, she was in charge
a right bossy little madam, of course, she had a job in Faro
but she visited me every other day, telling me what to do.
Then she got a posting in Cascais and with my new wife, we moved there. Her mother had said she was not
my real daughter, like I, should care she is mine
nothing can separate us, but I wish she hadn`t been so bossy.
Time, to buy our poppies
To remember once again
remember those who died for us
And those who were just maimed
We must also remember
Those, who lost their loved ones
Mothers, sister’s, daughters
Fathers, brothers, son's
What a lot of us can't imagine
What torment that must be
But they all gave their lives for us
To make our country free
In one hundred years
Two wars some endured
lost fathers in the 1st, sons in the last
This fighting is absurd
And still we send our menfolk
To fight the wars abroad
Please end this madness
I beg thee dear lord...
We think we're in recession
But do we really know
The hardships that our grandparents
Suffered against the foe
Bombed out of house and home
Nowhere else to go
Then all neighbours rallied round
To help they were not slow
Rationing came about
For food, for clothes, for fuel
From just scrag ends of meat
Made appetizing gruel
Women took over men’s jobs
In factories, farms and such
Blackouts, sirens, shelters
Hardship there was much
Army, air force and navy
Were not the only ones
But fire-fighters, nurses, doctors
Air raid wardens, everyone
They all played some part
In winning against the foe
Many lost their lives
A dreadful way to go
Some might say its better
To die instantly my friends
For many, many suffered
In agony till the end
We can’t possibly imagine
What it's like there at the front
Many months of fighting
With no end in sight
In trenches,
Your comrades all about you lying
Water logged and stinking,
Lying, crying, dying.
So please stand in silence
Remember, remember them
They fought for our freedom
Our women and our men
#10: No Room At The Inn
They blossomed they did like rows of roses.
Places for lodgers, those traveling sourced,
their reasons countered their changing poses,
frequent stays and returns have been endorsed.
There will be places that might be lacking
for whatever reasons that there may be,
the people won't stay there, less foot tracking,
as sites may have Roach Motels that you'll see.
There will be double-booking caused concerns,
leaving people stranded, no way, no stay,
whereby many shorten trips--forced returns.
Trends rallied lawsuits; be that as it may,
X-X Bethlehem, then Jerusalem, He'll lay.
…thirteen miners…
…only one survived…
…still clinging to life...
...with a history of violations...
It wasn’t West Virginia.
It was I.
And I’m taking the day off.
I know it won’t rhyme,
But I’ve been pummeled.
Run through the wringer.
It’ll be coffee now,
Black and bitter,
The way I like it.
Later, I’ll have some soup.
Chicken soup.
Chicken soup without the chicken.
Chicken soup without the broth.
I’ll just look at the can.
Art soup.
It wasn’t Warhol.
It was I.
…Sago Mine officials…
…two miles inside…
…280 feet down…
...Wall Street rallied on rumors…
… of sexual improprieties...
...deep discounts expected…
…news and talk all day…
…classical music all night…
But mostly just dead air.
…The president will be speaking later today...
...the leak came from a well-placed source…
It wasn’t his press secretary.
It was I,
…a suicide bomber in...
A place I can’t even pronounce.
Suicide?
In the realm of no-time,
Everything exists simultaneously,
Everywhere, nowhere.
Vast universes containing infinite sparks
Of universal consciousness
Erupting with intelligent randomness.
Everywhere.
Nowhere.
Nothing can be extinguished,
Merely transformed.
…Intifada…
…Gaza…
What does it matter?
It wasn’t Hamas.
It was I.
When Garrison Keillor Recites this poem
On Writer’s Almanac tonight,
He’ll speak different words
And attribute it to another author,
But that’s OK.
It wasn’t NPR.
It was I.
…thirteen miners…
… only one survived…
…still clinging to life...
...with a history of violations…
It wasn’t West Virginia.
It was I.
And I’m taking the day off.