Long Rector Poems
Long Rector Poems. Below are the most popular long Rector by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rector poems by poem length and keyword.
You failed once. You failed twice. Time for you to retest,
Even if it means that each day you have to skip recess.
So far you have failed every course that you took,
As if you never learned how to open up a book.
Don't talk in class, just listen to the lesson being taught.
You know that I have no chance of ever being caught.
The odds of you ever beating me look rather grim when stacked.
My creativity and wit are clearly intact.
In fact, my superiority I am about to enact.
Your words get out of whack, whenever you get smacked.
Because you could not pay attention to a word that I said,
I had to pull out my ruler and smack you upside the head.
And, that smack across your head really had to sting.
I bet it is the reason why you did not hear the bell ring.
How many more mistakes will you make me mention?
I have what it takes to put you in a permanent detention.
Mentioning others is such an unpleasant practice to see.
Stay focused! You have a hard enough time trying to slam me.
Leave my friends alone, and just let those people be,
And pay attention to the lesson that I am giving you for free.
Pathetic Whorelock, I am going to do you a little favor.
I am going to spice up this battle, just to give you a little flavor;
With imagery just like an old game of Pictionary.
So, you need to go and get yourself a brand new dictionary.
By the way, since you are learning something new,"guess what!"
DAKARAI is an AFRICAN name you silly numb nut.
The next time that you slam, try keeping your thoughts in order.
Trade a pack of cigarettes in for a new voice recorder.
You keep coming across looking like a cliche hoarder,
As you ridiculously cross the lines of every border.
Now, go grow a pair and have the guts to step up your game.
Your rhymes are lame, because your insults sound the same.
How could you ever "'tear'-(me)-out-the-frame" when you can't see the picture.
I am an earthquake, and you can't even shake the scale on the rector.
You will forever be ignored, no matter how tall you stand,
So you might as well not even bother with raising your hand!
Form:
I am a high school graduate and a former college student
I have no children
No drug or alcohol addiction
nor do I have a home
I am one of Brick City's homeless
Many of the faces I've seen downtown are the same faces I see at the soup kitchen or the shelter
The same quirky, ragged, foul-smelling, quiet homeless people
But these aren't the only homeless people
Many of the faces I've seen at the soup kitchen or at the shelter,
I've also seen downtown
The same outgoing, inconspicuous and "average" yet homeless people
I used to assume I'd pass up to 10 of the same homeless people downtown
Now that I'm one of them
and pretty much every homeless person knows every homeless person
You'd probably feel blessed and highly favored when I tell you that the majority of adult pedestrian traffic downtown are homeless United State citizens
The majority are homeless
We're at the library, McDonald's, Penn Station, 18 Rector, 50 South Clinton, all Essex County Parks, 990, Red Doors, St. Johns
or the sidewalk with our book bags, purses, suitcases and our will, however weak or strong, to live for right now
We get in where we fit in
The most thrilling part of my day is knowing what time the next soup kitchen serves and when I'm unconscious and dreaming
Most are not bums
Most are caught in a cyclical cycle of destitution because they have a record and can't qualify for anything other than a 9-5
Or don't have a job because there are no jobs and don't have anyone to take care of them without taking advantage of their situation, be it sexually or by an unfair criminal or immoral request
Most of us just can WAIT until!
. . . and there's no one here to help me right now
I understand though:
It's likewise
This homeless lifestyle encourages me to keep dreaming, faintly hope and never expect anything
My high hopes and expectations left me ____ out in the streets of Newark
It's 4 o'clock
. . . On to the next soup kitchen
Amnesia
... or impaired memory?
Jezebel stood firm before my eyes!
Behold Her Imperial Ruthlessness!
And her bosom, harbouring bile,
Was bleached like lightning.
Arachnid fingernails mock the efforts
Of talons from revelling vultures.
Eyes pierced my brows with lasciviousness
So atrocious like the willpower of romantic gales.
And I saw her bathing in full nakedness
Upon rocks of blood,
Naked with the accoutrements of raw power.
And she bathed with inebriation.
Power is like alcohol which intoxicates only
Those who have tasted it.
A panting rill rustled like vagrant, charred leaves
Around her cold, naked feet.
Jezebel.
Whiter than horrid death!
Night,
And she sequesters.
Sublime, the existence,
Merging with night, with
Mirrored glances atop arid waters.
Her flesh reeked of baked blood;
Subcutaneous imprints live on her.
Jezebel,
Mother of termagants,
Rector of covens,
Ancillary to Devil’s cantonment
Hater of suffragans,
Hasten upon these hills
Before the break of dawn...
It’s dawn.
Day of Jezebel’s atonement
And blood cluttered upon solemn boulders
And upon harmless pebbles,
Upon sapphire and onyx,
And upon flaming gold and eerie silver.
Mad moments of pulsations!
Tremors and heat of hanging day,
Eruptions on Pompeii’s rage,
Adrenalin aerated beyond
Flirting clouds dancing with the greed of
Sorrow.
TENDER LOVE AND CARE
Take a look around,
what do you see?
I see homeless,
hungry, it could be you or me.
Strange times,
in the places that we live,
So many out of work,
we have nothing to give.
I see scared people,
funny look to their eyes,
Lost souls,
desperation in their cries.
Most have families,
they sleep in their car,
Every night,
the kids wish upon a star.
I hear people say,
it’s their own fault, their lowlifes,
These are families,
moms, dads, kids and wives.
The cost of living,
is off the Rector-scale,
It's like paving
the highway to hell.
The Government is of no help,
they put us here,
They say their transparent,
yet the facts are unclear.
So many struggling,
with alcohol and drug addiction,
So many of us,
just do not pay attention.
Ignoring it,
does not mean it’s not there,
Even the blind,
can see its everywhere.
Desperate people,
can do desperate things,
You know what they say,
it isn’t over till the fat lady sings.
The law,
and all the racial tension,
Negative energy,
it’s the bone of contention.
It won't work itself out,
in need of repair,
All it takes is a little,
tender, love and care…
Turbo1904
What Jesus Means To Me
This poem is based on sermon by Father Dave Davis,
Rector of St. James Episcopal Church, Shallotte, NC
on March 22, 2015. Gospel for Day was John 12:20-23.
Maybe they might put my poem on their website.
What Jesus Means To Me
Who is this Jesus supposed to be?
What should He really mean to me?
Of course, He is our Lord and Savior
And want to find myself in His favor.
There are things that I do not deny
Want Jesus to be a nice, great guy
Being available and also convenient
And like Him best when He is lenient.
What is it that we want Jesus to do?
Be nice and make dreams come true;
Answer prayers each and every one;
When He's around have a lot of fun.
Have Jesus help me grow and grow
And where it is I might have to go
Be with me up until my dying day
To heaven be sure to take me away.
Do I have to be much more direct?
What is it I am supposed to expect?
From Jesus but know that I am glad
His big job to do I never, ever had.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and
Member of Board of Vestry
and 2d Helpings Program
O Fault!
Horrendously I believed, a man solitary,
Was real alive stood, aftermath Tsunami.
On top of a roof, standing overwhelming,
Looking towards wreckage and towns’ declining.
Devastation of property, food water shortage,
Ancestral heritage, swept away by chase.
Culturally rich even, 100 years liven,
No escape what to do, in front of threat.
Earthquake shook foundation, with nine Rector Scales,
Tsunami you remained disheartened in mid of wails.
You forgot to wait albeit; they’re previously swept,
Probably tremor sent message, to frozen Japan the best.
World remained sterilized, forgetting heavenly shape,
Life swallowed grief, at the mid of deface.
Such irrational calamities, occurred upon lives,
Stop genocide heading, towards human’s face.
Without noticing, why did you demolish race?
Love us then only, we stir to generate lives,
Otherwise we’ve to chain sack, for next sister planet.
We’re poor creature, you’re great genuine,
Bureaucracy impinged, havoc terminating shrine.
O fault! Mind your business, if you want life to begin.
The sermons nearly finished, suddenly a happening befalls my eyes
Our congregation now sits silent, amidst echoing tearful cries
An old man we know as Tommy, he's the retired Rector of our Academy
Now lying silent on the stone cold flagstones, he disappeared from see
Motionless to ashen in lie, worried faces in concern surround
Whilst a face appears from the tears, slowly kneeling on this hallowed ground
In tenderness sigh exhale, her hands now adorn his chest
In gentle moving motion, resuscitation is now addressed
Minutes appear like hours, when suddenly two eyes now open see
Where I'm sitting like others around, what's happening in front of thee
No miracles are cried out loud, simply a calmness by she who coped
All because a face from our congregation, gave us a moment for hope
Hold the mirror to your face your the broken enemy precious is your inhabition a pathway to
your sanity delusions lead to hollow confusion a metamorphsis borderline dilemma, whats
the pleasure in a lesser evil is the comfort addictive at the seat of kings in your wildest
dreams let the lies pull you under let the wayward intentions leave you blinded it's infinite
that you carry this heavy burden as a prelude to your infamy. The rhythm of your beating
heart is soothing inspired yet still withering I've lead you into deception to the doorsteps of
the jackel himself, say your simple hymn and sacrifice your boundaries: "In muto of rebirh
ego tribuo ut thee cruentus manuum in edens nemus uindico thee quod rector thee inregnum
of lux in eve illae alveus nox noctis amen".
Thomas Higgins was busy doctor
And spent his evenings with the rector
Who managed a nearby seminary;
He was a man loveably down-to-earth and ordinary.
He spent the hours between four and six
In the nearby arboretum studying twings
And the little monkeys that graced the trees,
He had a bottle with stuff that looked like juice
From which he drank from time to time,
And I fancied some day I would write him some rhyme.
He did hasty press-ups and liked to jog
And beside him sat Casey his faithful dog;
He followed his master wherever he went
And wagged his tail whenever his master bent.
Thomas and Higgins were such faithful friends
And such were their daily trends;
Whenever they walked back home
Casey would lead the way as was his accustomed norm.
Suck blood like a vampire from a strange empire ,
Not invited but invite herself,
Pass through tiny holes and mesh of the net to
Set her proboscis on the skin…
Night crawler and unwanted flying creature ..
Dances around your earlobe to infuriate you..And ..
You end up slapping your ear with a big bang..!
Her piecing mouth part sends strong signals to
the brain which can make the sane to be insane ..
Fever is the outcome ,running temperature is his friend ,
And headache the mother..of all murders….
Anaemia plus lassitude will pay you a warm visit ,
Leading to excursion to the doctor’s home ;
Lab test shows plasmodium or salmonella…or …what?
Carried by this vector or rector called female anopheles…
....Mosquito.......
2-27-2017