Long Reporters Poems
Long Reporters Poems. Below are the most popular long Reporters by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reporters poems by poem length and keyword.
Whatever happened to in depth analysis?
Whatever happened to in depth discussion?
Whatever happened to in depth research?
Whatever happened to in depth investigation?
Are we doomed to a life in the shallows for millennia to come?
Are we doomed to a life inside, with our blinds drawn?
Are we doomed to a life with no more full-length movies?
Are we doomed to a life without the need to get our feet wet?
Are we doomed to a life that will never be deep?
Have we lost our ability to concentrate?
Have we lost our ability to swim against the tide?
Have we lost our ability to read the full report?
Have we lost our ability to search out the facts?
Have we lost our ability to dig deeper?
Or could it be that our brains have been washed too many times,
Or could it be that we have used too much sanitizing lotion,
Or could it be that the virtual world now holds more sway,
Or could it be that we are too busy taking selfies to notice,
Or could it be that we are losing all our in depth reporters.
The spirit of love was flowing in the air but all of a sudden it disappeared when the birds sitting on the fence spread filth on the cars parked in the garage. They say that it’s a symbol of luck for those that believe in miracle spewing out of the environment gut.
The wind is blowing and it is carrying a nasty stench within; the wind is blowing and the farm animals are murmuring. The donkeys are carrying a heavy load, they are climbing up the mountain with their backs laden with gold, the markets are not gold friendly and so they have to convert it to pound, shilling and pence in a hurry.
When the prices are right you, can get a gold ring for the price of a diamond and a ruby. Those boxes on the donkey’s back are worth twenty billion, the price of two houses, a shoe, a new frock and a cake with mixed icing on top.
A stench is moving around in the air and it is boiling with the spirit of fear, it not the stench you want smell when you are stuck in the lion’s den. You have got to formulate a better plan to get the cubs off the land; some people can be ambassadors, construction workers business entrepreneurs and dress makers.
Others can be carpenters, news reporters; naysayer and deal breakers can take on an assignment in different parts of the world and make their spirit bold. You can get them out of the lion’s den with money, ink, paper and a chartered air plane before the end of December.
The writer’s and the cinematography, news presenters, directors, producers, actors and the cameramen have much in common and can explore the universe and find new meaning with different verse.
The garbage is sitting on the street side and the flies are gathering around, circulating a deplorable stench throughput the town.
It is Wednesday for heaven's sake; the meeting is on so don’t be late. Get your notes together, for the members are already inside, the tiger is sitting at the front you have much in common so give a subtle smile to break the ice, the bear must be feared they will dilute the stench in the open air.
There is an awful stench in the air and it is coming from the cesspool.
He expressed the need for
her to be more efficient.He
wanted her to know that she
was best at what she did and her
voice and personality could make her
affords, to be the most successful in her craft.
She believed him, she trusted him, their affords paid off
when they engaged in the project" To make the all things Great"!
they took small amounts of time, and collaborated with people
who wanted to create Orchestrated noise, with beautiful sounds.
once they created the song's with sounds, they wrote lyrics.
They contracted horns, strings, percussion, and two pianists, these affords were to improve the quality of
the sounds, it worked. they celebrated their success, and hoped and prayed
a craving world wanted to buy and hear some of these beautiful, sounds.
"Ask a drummer what the best part of the song, he?she would probably say the rhythm, unless he's complimenting someone else, every one hear said the songstress, expressed her artistry with her voice, and the background singers
were even greater then the songtress, the musicains were impressed. The composers and lyric writters celebrated their affords with a party, the orcheatsra and singers performed two songs from the upcoming art peice, reporters were wowed, and the rest with be measured upon the sales of concert seat's. they await finding what the shedule of events will be.
"Sing me a Love Song" written by Alotta People, 2018 New Sounds Of Lovers Music Company.( they made a deal for a two million dollar concert tour, which includeds a traveling caterer) New York- San Fran Culinary Tour Team, from ot of Nashville( Chef Bisstra) It had two touring buses, converted into kitchens and one bus with beds for the staff, along the way i's beleived that seven children were conceved by the musicains and the kitchen staff.They made a fortune in concert dates and food sales.It inspired the new song," Loving You,(AKA...I love loving you) and the groovey" Make It Right"
This is the weirdest night I’ve ever seen.
Said the crow, not realizing it is Halloween.
The jack-o-lantern said he felt it too.
Inside him was a big dragon concocting on “brew”.
The dragon popped his head out and gave them a fright.
It was getting to be a strange, curious, bat-loving night.
Dracula came by to get in on the October action.
Being the center of attention always gives him satisfaction.
But alas, the dragon was the “talk of the day”.
The graveyard was buzzing with rumors every which way.
This dragon is dangerous; he was transformed by a witch.
Greenie got excited and waved a feathery switch.
Abracadabra and Hocus Pocus and Such!
These graveyard jack-o-lanterns are almost too much!
Reporters came and everyone pushed Dracula aside.
He was so mad now, his feelings we could barely abide.
The dragon gave a show, a whistle and a shout.
The newspaper reporters were thrilled without a doubt.
Dracula slunk away, irritated and angry as could be.
The weirdest Halloween I’ve ever had on a dragon’s knee.
Let’s sit for a while like children -
It’s circle time, criss-cross applesauce,
Close your eyes in repose, no touching.
Let us gather for a while with eyes closed,
Shutting out the world’s noise -
All of God’s children, no words.
First in quiet repose as calm music plays -
No media, no reporters, no death -
All of God’s children.
All of the skin colors, no touching.
No one knows who sits by their side -
Just calm, relaxing.
Sounds of a heartbeat play, a
Newborn song, beating in time -
Through arteries and veins.
We are all the same, relaxed and tame.
No one’s losing their life nor their mind -
When it’s time, you grab a hand -
No peeking, feeling the warmth of
Your neighbor, the love -
All God’s children want and desire.
You rise to your feet, take a breath
Open your eyes, feel the light
Receive a hug from left then right.
Remember this picture, the sigh
Of relief, the genuine love -
Let’s begin this world anew!
Wit
Where were you when I was arrested at a public toilet for drinking
of a flask of brandy- the man beside me was a police officer out
to catch people like me who needed a drink to survive the tedium of
living in a provincial town in the middle of a landscape of cows
Where were you during the court case when the judge said I was
a disgrace, a plague on the backside of humanity, drinking in public
It is a serious crime, the buffoon thundered, throwing the gavel at me
It hit a guard in the head, who was knocked out
Where were you when I had to run the gauntlet of jeering reporters
and people pointed me out in the street, and a hush when
I entered a café, and the waitress refused to serve me coffee
You went on holiday in Spain, drinking red wine.
...“Remember what I told you of my pa,
of what I shouted at you on that night,
you want a better world? Then help others,
but you gotta do it one at a time.
“I save one person, does this save the world?
Of course not, but the fact of it remains,
that person is still here, to live their life,
to contribute, live and love everyday.
“One less child who has lost their parent,
one less dreamer that was snuffed out too soon.
I stop a car crash, the streets are safer,
stop a drug deal, keep a young man in school.
“The world is better because of all this,
may not be drastic, but God’s keeping score,
the little things make the big picture better,
so people can go enjoy their lives more.
“You say that this means my quests never end,
but I knew that before I even began,
I could do what most do without my power,
or just not care, be a shell of a man?
“Again, that’s a simple answer to me,
but I guess I’m just a small-town Catholic.
I don’t like seeing pain that I can prevent,
and really that is the pure core of it.
“It may not be what your readers demand,
or what you literati find en vouge,
but that’s the whole reason, why I do this…
Is there anything else you want to know?”
She stammered for a bit, caught up in it,
then shook her head and said, “No…not right now.”
He smiled and said, “Good timing, I think,
since I see my second short-stack coming ‘round.”
Tanya remained until they were all done,
and watched the man eat three whole meals of food,
talking of moving and internet memes,
if local sports teams were any good.
And then, just like that, the hero got up,
paid their bill off and went about his day,
Tanya remained there for several moments,
was still struggling to know what to say.
Even with all that, it still took some time
for her to truly comprehend what he meant,
how power could show such humility,
and choose a fight that it never could win.
But ten years later, those doubts were long gone,
she understood him and knew his last name,
though for their kids’ sake, she kept it secret,
those reporters could really be a pain...
Pork-chop cheeks and whiskey smiles,
Unable to hear the screams,
Or feel the clenched fist of anguish.
Just gravy boats, reporters’ notes,
And passenger windows,
A self-perpetuated pride,
A collective team of ego.
Laughing in hysterical
Deliverance of ignorance.
Playing around,
Intentionally oblivious
To disastrous decisions.
Twenty-plus years too late.
National incompetence,
The scourge of historical importance,
Shattering a nation’s livelihood.
Millions of pieces scattered
In a dense, foggy wood.
A gathering of like-minded fools,
Emerging from the greatest education
And finest halls.
Exemplary in the tradition of failure,
Perfect in self-service.
Number one,
Next to none,
Perfection in vile thoughts,
The master of demon guile.
And under every rock, you lurk,
Sociopathic and absurd,
Elevated by your will,
The autocratic style.
How does a pauper rise to noble feats?
By a system of tricks and treats?
A self-justification through heaps
Of linguistic beats.
A democracy for those who
Plunder the harvest reaps,
Not for all, or those who need,
Just those who wash your feet,
Place great measures
For promised privilege.
To thrive, turn by turn,
A circle of peerage,
Flashing the cleavage of mockery,
Just showing off a parading aristocracy.
The instrument of control,
The hammer to our freedom,
The chisel to our expression,
The square to our heartfelt intention.
The drill to our completion,
Our real nightmare...
The politician.
In the back of his mind he felt something was off
He had never met a relative and there were no baby photos of him
His mother home schooled him in the eighties; and did not explain why.
He never dreamed the truth though, even when he saw her being hauled off.
By police officers who had proof from his DNA test that he was not hers.
She was the only mother he knew; he could not think of her as criminal.
The other woman was excited to see him. He was sixteen.
It was too late to bond.
Newspaper reporters wanted to interview him.
He stayed in his new room with his new “folks” he did not know at all.
They had two other children, apparently his biological siblings.
Gladys was thirteen, Warren was eleven.
He had nothing to say to any of them.
His mom was gone; the only family he knew.
He would have to wait two years to see her.
It was going to see like two decades.
I want to live in a world
Where people with substance abuse problems
can walk hand in hand with a community of friends
Because addictions as we know it is harder to fight through then it was for frodo in the Lord
of the rings
I want to live in a world where
Poverty and homelessness is in our realm of political focal lens
Because the way I see it
Poets are street reporters
and Misery is the sheets that blankets
the poor.
Our pens are our megaphones
Social Injustices have continually been silenced
The news focuses on Angelina's Newest Babies
Or whether Tiger woods was guilty of infedility
and My god..... How distracted we become like
horses with side blinders
so mindlessly flipping through our
television sets
which in essence are portals where the doldrums of our brain cells come to hibernate
and we forget about our abilities to cause a commotion
Inspire with our thoughts
Our crazy, beautiful, wonderful, abstract, unique, witticisms that can set off a movement like
a thousand beautiful rainbow dominoes.
Falling to the floor in a ballet of tumultuous delight because
Change... change can simply erupt overnight
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