Long Relative Poems
Long Relative Poems. Below are the most popular long Relative by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Relative poems by poem length and keyword.
What the paper said
A newspaper I sometimes read is not happy
that billionaires dabble in politics
the paper is partly right; especially if the rich
The person who thinks about it is not liberal.
People who are successful in relative youth
tend to inflate their importance, ask what
do I know how to fill my time in service to my
country, even though they know it is about
themselves and well-being to use their
business acumen to benefit for the state
and at the same time, give them importance
on an international level
Sigh a mogul is not an intellectual, his vision
is narrowed as his business talent that does
not include the mass of people who might
have other interests, say about quality and
social issues that have no visible outcome
but nevertheless benefit those who are of
a modest talent
A billionaire should not brush them off as a
hindrance to their view, life is more than
running a factory and meeting people who
are in awe of the wealth
I'm not a singer, but I sing
I'm not a writer, but I'm right
I'm not wrong, but I am wrong
The name of these verses is, I mean are
I've come to far to not play the drums
Let's dance chew some gum
Polarized over and over again
In but gotten up I rise and fallen
Could it be than I'm ten
Just what about the wind
Blowin in my fears
I'm not but I am
I'm not free, but I am free
I'm not you, but I am me
My name is James? see
The name of these verses is, I mean are
I've come to far to not play the drums
Let's dance chew some gum
Polarized over and over again
In but gotten up I rise and fallen
Could it be than I'm ten
Just what about the wind
Blowin in my fears
I'm not but I am
Relative fervent cares
Master card, Visa, Discovery
What's you doing for me, just a dollar away
From bankruptcy loan two dollars so I can pay my debt
All I got is fifty-cents
I'm all that God made
Made by God I' am
I'm not safe but I am' but I'm saved
I'm not faithful but trust
I've changed my ways
I am not but I am
Polarized over and over again
In but gotten up I rise and fallen
Could it be than I'm ten
Just what about the wind
Blowin in my fears
I'm not but I am
09/29/17
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
Call me spoiled, call me late for a date, call me casual or smirky or crazy
But do not call me sloth-like, sluggish, disengaged, placid or lazy.
Call me from Mexico, Canada, China, France or another fine place.
Call me from Venus, Mars, or a meteorite from outer space.
Just don’t call me from Kansas City, for it is where I live.
I already know every relative of Clyde, Celander and Viv.
Don’t call me from these two area codes - 816 and 913,
They are all Kansas City numbers, and would much annoy me.
Call me happy, joyful, enthusiastic, wild and carefree.
Never call me stupid or to dine on a persnickety tea.
Don’t call me at two or three a.m. that would irritate me.
And never never never call me from area codes 816 and 913.
Eating my oatmeal, sipping my tea,
“Where”, I wondered, “should I stroll today?
I won’t be rash and decide in a flash.
There are choices to carefully weigh”.
“Left/Right, Up/Down, and Forward/Back -
There are but three choices to be made.
I will be smart and think like Descartes.
Then, I can begin my promenade.”
3D was an art, before Descartes
And anti-left, an ancient bias,
Around how to choose which hand to use,
Dating to days of Zacharias.
“Left” is a direction long bad-mouthed.
People said it was wrong, and not “RIGHT”.
Is it deft to choose not to go left,
Or is going left just as upRIGHT?
Why does “up”, not “down”, enhance “UPright”?
To be on TOP of the list we try.
Why not make our goal DOWN in the hole,
Instead of way up HIGH in the sky?
We would rather our heart RISE than sink.
Heaven is ABOVE, and hell, BELOW.
A hawk on patrol beats a blind mole.
So goes the story of “high” and “low”.
Better to go UP, but harder too -
The way old Newton would have it, see,
“If you don’t like, take a hike, ‘cuz
We are all pulled down by gravity”.
While UP in Flanders, a mapmaker,
Aptly named Gerardus Mercator,
Put Flanders on TOP, refusing to swap
With Australia, BELOW the equator.
Another bias, it seems to me,
Is we want to go forward - not back.
In a world sublime, it relates to time -
Einstein said, “it’s relative, Jack”.
Both my oatmeal and tea are now gone,
And the sun has sunk low in the West.
Tomorrow, I’ll drink tea, and I’ll think
Where to walk. Now, I’ll have a nice rest.
How do you give solace to a girl with a broken heart
when your heart has not yet mended from her falling in love with him?
How do you answer her questions for advice
when you know the best advice to give further damages your chance?
How do you lend a shoulder for her to cry on
when your entire body aches to embrace her lovingly?
How do you listen to her plans for making up
when you wish your friendship could be replaced by romance?
Silently, you suffer the torture of one-sided love.
Stoically, you pretend to be happy as her friend.
Selflessly, you let her go when you desperately want her to stay.
Stupidly, you swallow those three words you want to say.
You try convincing yourself you are happy by her happiness,
even though her happiness with another makes you depressingly sad.
You wear the mask of a brother-like relative
even though the jealously is driving you mad.
To leave her far behind would mean your freedom and your end.
Never to know her as a lover, you will suffer lonely as a friend.
Some ghost in peoples mind need to control,
every aspect of circumstance to enroll.
The raging spirit in constant demand to chase illusion,
with sweet words, drama and phony conclusion.
The fear of not being in charge by all means,
destroys all good attention in short coming’s not seen.
Hidden fragile uncertainties covered by shallow believe,
creating painful structures with no relief.
Destinies beatitude pointed towards all direction,
chained to the source of this infection.
The perjuries towards the illusion of freedom,
is the constant rising of another millennium.
The catastrophic ripple effect towards the relative,
by poor judgments sensed has competitive.
Megalomania is the belief of power abilities regardless,
shallow emotional intellect performed by ruthless charges.
Powerful and admirable pictures are usually the point,
questioning others towards responsibilities being a ‘disappoint’.
The dragon of false illusion has many heads,
taken others credit and values as alphabet.
Mystic pseudonyms is the fire in the oxygen,
riding the beast of burden to the melancholic dungeon.
For My Mother and My Dayghter
9/23/2023
I whispered, “ Mom, I’ll take you home.!
No nursing home halls will you walk, all alone.
Your bedroom, at my house is bright and all ready.
And to care for you, Mom, my hand is steady!”
Elena, my daughter, an Angel in disguise.
Played an equal part, young, but very wise!
I recall the fear when Mom’s heart stopped!
I jumped on her bed, began CPR non- stop!
Elena, at the same time ,called the paramedics .
I kept working on Mom, I felt I needed a strong anesthetic.
They shared, it was me, not they, who saved her life…
“Most people usually stand there and don’t do thing!”
So if you do not know CPR, please take a course.
One need not be old for their heart to suddenly stop.
Instead of writing poetry or prose all day?
Learn CPR, don’t let a friend or relative pass away.
My Mom lived for eight more great and full years~
For that! I am most grateful, yet I miss her still. With tears.
Dedicated to my Daughter, Elena, and to my late Mother.
We always watched out for, and cared deeply for each other!
Legend of Fosse Way
Riding hard under a moonlight high
not a leaf rustling and it troubles my mind
In the distance there's music of the lyre and flute
rippling over the moors
Serenading the stars
The voice of a maiden
bleeds it's way through the thick darkness
Singing an ole Bawdy Pub Song.
My steed swift at a gallop
hooves sound their click clack
As we cross Halford Bridge
No time to be wasted
seeking comfort at the Inn
History demands I deliver this message
The dispatch I carry holds the future of England
I must make Exeter Castle by dawn.
No matter the risk or danger I encounter
It is crucial that I press on
Two Queens vying for the throne of England
Not even God can decide which be the righteous one
Protestant or Catholic not the reason for choice
A Queen must have love for Mother England
coursing through her blood
Forrest fairies ring the bells on the Fox Glove
The Oaks without expression and still
A rare breeze slaps the sleeping grasses in the glades
In the marsh toads croak complaint to night’s chill
This road is dominion of Highwaymen and thieves
Robbing those that choose this way to travel.
By the will of God and the Bishop's blessing
I will pass undetected by scoundrels and rabble
Nourished only on bread and Brambleberries
Traveling in the cover of night taking sleep by day
All that I've seen are ghosts of Roman soldiers
On this thoroughfare known as Fosse Way
If by the hand of God or the Devil
I meet with an untimely death
And I am unable to tell tale of this ride
Let not my story meet the same fate
Say my name Nigel Foster be mentioned in yarns
told in pubs and taverns .
History will decide if I am a Patriot or Traitor
As a result of my actions
When the years pass into the future
Don't let me be a lost memory of yesterday
If by chance may I live on
as one of the many legends
The many legends of Fosse Way.
Inspired by Alfred Noyes poem “The Highwayman"
And in memory of my distant relative,
Robert Devereux 2nd Earl of Essex.
Judge Santiago Burdon
©2019
As we watch our dark evening sky
Bejeweled with magnificent stars,
Called to our minds comes the endless
Dream to solve all the mysteries
Entrusted to vast cosmic space-
Forever, our undying wish.
Great questions we ask about space;
Have the answers always been vague?
Is it much too much to surmise
Justly, far worlds support life?
Know of us- where we are?
Likely explore their own skies
Many million light-years away?
Now, we are secure on this Earth;
Of course, when we think about her,
Perhaps as just dust in the sky,
Questions about why we're here,
Relative to measureless space,
Sometimes are too much to address.
Thank God for our heaven of stars
Under which we thrive, even though,
Vast, endless heavens surround us
With mysteries deep and unknown.
Xanadu for sure, you are Earth!
You are our great castle among
Zillions of spheres in the cosmos.
February 14, 2015
Contest: Abecedarian Poem Any Subject You Want
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
Plagued by incandescent ferments I grapple zealously,
with tower blocks of titan topsoil myriads,
and melange of eccentric foibles,
considered by some to be a minus,
but without this composite what is my real nature?
reflection on a manifest mettlesome being,
leaden skewed traffic jam’s tailback of relative prospect,
normalcy a supernatural synonym,
apperception fringed by lambent twinkling,
that tantalising twirl of clustered countless spirits,
quirk-some inklings seem a weakness,
whilst chasing galaxy of plus point,
self-ostracised by atypical apparently conflicting plethora,
grave as in shadow id, tombstone stark exit but salutary motto,
etched eerily by one staunch depiction,
on catalytic other form of self,
unresolved human traits in multiples,
indicative of lack, lack of bearing?
me that nutrient rich plot that has,
this wondrous green blade potential compass,
me as sumptuous summer gust freshener,
of inner coastal home philosopher’s dwelling,
me an endless random version,
of charcoal midnight gleeful ghost,
blithely skimming chimney tops on deep quest,
yet nascent dawn usher lurks within,
augurs well for that sound ultimate coexistence,
despite an underbelly of niggling doubt
Hopefully I’m kind
at heart but rare traits might just
scupper thoughtful aim