Long Reproduce Poems
Long Reproduce Poems. Below are the most popular long Reproduce by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reproduce poems by poem length and keyword.
Armed Cyber Conflict Law
Is mepping your logic floor
This president is a bore
His reasoning for the war
You don’t want to stand for
For that with the funds in offshore
The needs of the state or the nation
Do not exist in isolation
THUS foundation we set for
For new Armed Conflict Cyber Law
Perhaps such care for the nation
May be arranged as presentation
Without any obfuscation
Civilian damage does demand the compensation
The reasoning such president evade with Compensation
Makes funny struct of logic degradation
And if he stimulated nationalism
He seriously lacks professionalism
In that which isn’t bound
To what he came to power from
And people seriously downed
This comprehends and DRONE
His strategy isn’t profound
What is for logic this background
When battlefield is his playground
DRONE frowned
Nature frowned
Perhaps you need to be recrowned
It’s funny that humanitarian
Rhymes with authoritarian
Not sure if that was so barbarian
And mannerisms of speech are ARIAN
And state spiritual affairs are sectarian
Each citizen is consumer and they
Should reproduce for natural decay
Not sure if tail this really wags the dog
But nothing stops machine occurring cog
I am a general practitioner in a world where there's nothing but specialists,
A melting world with non-melting specialists.
(“Himatanthus Willd!”)
And my pain has completely lost Her voice as
Science in the last two centuries has tended to be ever-dividing-dividing-dividing with My
pajamas up since seven on the sofa now eleven...
(“Frangipani!”)
Where, in abundance, can we shiver the leaves and have our heads shake things out?
With them Hawaii grows so abundantly many people think they are indigenous to the
The Island System like quarreling lovers are burrowing mothers
Are sorrowful daughters, all terrible fathers we are,
And related to Oleander they are…
Pajama thirty now on the eleven-spot now “Zap-2-it” on-screen,
Humankind as the primer by which Gaia will reproduce and
I say all this because I love you and me,
Though only because you love me do I love me
And know what love means, like the poisonous, milky sap
So similar to that of Euphorbia…
Can I paint broader strokes stepping out of the window of the house I am painting?
Paint the colors of the paint?
Paint the Carl Sagan Cosmic Viewpoint of the ‘59 space probes:
A planet in preparation to go to seed?
Where were you when you were born: in a house or in a womb?
On your mother or on the ground?
If I were a tree, I would pluck my fruits
As soon as they would be ripe
And I would distribute them to those who
Roam the streets aimlessly,
Trying to find something to fill up
The growling stomachs of their children!
More,
I would have cleansed my leaves and my branches
So that they turn edible
And I would then allow humans
To end the hunger virus that has struck
Some parts of the world!
If I were a tree, I would scan the horizon,
To try to see who needs some relief
In the guise of my shade
And I would uproot myself, walk over
To them and bring them some comfort,
While they would head towards their destinations,
And I would even accompany them with
Some of my stories or even some of my songs
As they have been sung to me by their ancestors
And are still stored in my memory!
If I were a tree,
I would reproduce as much as I would have been able to
To create the necessary conditions needed
For rain to fall so that humans and animals
Would never ever feel the sensation of dry throat
And look all around them
But would see not a single drop of water!
If I were a tree, I would make myself more useful
Than I already am to humans,
As maybe, then, they would let me live and
Would think ten times before
Turning me into logs, or paper, to benefit only a few!
The World's elite have made it their goal,
to get the population under control.
They hatched out a plan,
for their fellow man,
while they reproduce and live to be old.
A total population of 250-300 million people, a 95% decline from present levels, would be ideal. - Ted Turner - founder of CNN. (Age 80, 5 children)
In order to stabilize population, we must eliminate 350,000 people per day.
-Jacques Cousteau - explorer, conservationist. (Lived to be 87, 4 children)
If I were reincarnated I would wish to be returned to Earth as a killer virus to lower human population levels. - Prince Phillip - married the Queen of England.
(Age 97, 4 children)
Finally I had thought that at the time Roe was decided, there was concern about population growth in populations that we don't want to have too many of.
- Ruth Bader Ginsburg - Supreme Court Justice. (Age 86, 2 children)
The most merciful thing a large family can do to One of its infant members is to kill it. - Margaret Sanger - laid ground work for planned parenthood (Lived to be 86, 3 children)
I'm pro-choice, I'm for assisted suicide, I'm for regular suicide, I'm for whatever gets the freeway moving - that's what I'm for. It's too crowded, the planet is too crowded and we need to promote death. - Bill Maher - HBO personality. (Age 62 no children, thank God)
Two Aloha-shirted Hawaiians
of generous girth were strumming
their ukuleles
on a small stage in front of the hotel’s poolside bar
in the late afternoon,
rehearsing for the night’s performance.
It must have been the low season,
as both bar and pool were deserted.
and the singer, unburdened
by a leis-laden audience’s
Mai Tai-soaked expectations,
was going through a mele
as if trying it on for size,
his voice loose-limbed with an easy grace.
Wrapped in the ukuleles' lolling strains,
his falsetto notes tumbled out into an
uncongested airspace,
where no ceiling formed by small talk, disjointed laughter
or tinkling glasses impeded their progress,
so they unfurled their wings,
lifted themselves into the hibiscus-brushed breeze,
and climbed,
hopscotching and frolicking on their ascent,
skipping from Tiki torch to treetop to balcony.
Some straggled, loitered on windowsills.
Some, afraid of heights, fluttered back down
to rest on top of beach umbrellas
next to shadows of palm fronds.
Still others hang-glided out over the sand
and the lapis water,
lured by the marigold light.
So that, when they alighted on my
hotel room balcony ten floors above,
they were fragments,
excerpted by the intervening air
from the upflowing cascade into
a broken yet voluptuous murmur,
a soft, lilting South Seas benediction
floating around my head.
I’d just sat down in the balcony chair, alone,
my wife being inside the room busying herself
with the correct placement of luggage
after we’d checked in.
And so it was that I found myself looking out
at the beginnings of a sky-painting Maui sunset
accompanied by air that quietly sang.
Maybe it was my senses unwinding
after the bustle of the journey,
or maybe it was simply that I was caught unawares,
but the feeling of contentment,
the almost Zen-like awareness of the here and now,
that overcame me at that moment was something
no convergence of sights and sounds
has been able to reproduce in the 20 years since.
It was, to be sure, an experience I’d paid more than
a negligible amount of money for.
The irony is that it was the first time
I truly understood the simplicity of happiness.
Mahalo.
Writing poetry draws one within
allowing the inward self to demonstrate
all that's been down there deep and dark
making your light shine before its too late
Irritation is a descriptive word
one that we all seek to emulate
it tasks our mind to our extreme
pointing higher worthy to contemplate
Consider the classical violinist supreme
who has a true ever living ear
but the challenge of quality reproduction
making the fingers touch without fear
But these fingers have a mind of their own
which can stop any reproduction
no matter how the sound comes over
it all continued under construction
The frustrations of a poetic writer
causes irritation within the grey matter
but there's hope with a capital H
inspiration comes to get one on a starter
'Quote:
" I am irritated by my own writing. I am like a violinist whose ear is true, but whose fingers refuse to reproduce precisely the sound he hears within."
- Gustave Flaubert (1821-1880) French Novelist.
“What I like about photographs is that they capture a moment that’s gone forever, impossible to reproduce.” — Karl Lagerfeld
Wonderful memories of yesteryear,
though long ago, are still so very clear
Trips to the seaside, a visit to the zoo,
hearing the steam train go choo choo
Riding on a donkey on the golden sand,
building sandcastles, they looked so grand
Eating pink candy floss piled up so high,
winning a small prize on the coconut shy
Going on bumper cars and the ghost train,
using my pocket money to ride on them again!
Photographs of the past from when I was a child,
the most vivid of them all, was how my hair was styled!
Memories from old photographs … as a child I had blonde curly hair !
“Y” Contest, New Poems – Poetry Contest - theme of Yesteryear chosen
Sponsored by Constance La France
11/29/21
Our numbers still they grow and grow
But on finite planet
What can we do; which way to go
So on earth we all fit?
Our numbers we cannot reduce
For then we go backwards.
So we must further reproduce
To continue forwards.
There seems to be no equation
So we ask our A.I.
Can it offer a solution?
And tell us what to try.
Perhaps we tweak our DNA
And make humans micro.
Now this could be our only way.
Let’s think of future show.
Micro people would consume less
When just few inches tall.
This would reduce pollution mess.
Our impact would be small.
It is the rational way to go.
We must downsize to fit.
And our numbers can further grow
On our future planet.
The days and the nights are long.
Could not wait to see the bright shining sun,
And the clouds floating above me during the day.
Could not wait to see the shining moon
And the stars at night.
My days are not long
To see them all though.
I bloom at dawn
With morning dews all over my petals.
Shining like the Sun as its ray falls upon me.
Now I wait for the little creatures to play with.
I feel the wind and follow its direction and enjoy my day.
The nature's day is beautiful,
But I hate the creatures that pluck me off.
For they never know my pain and feelings.
I begin to fade as the daylight fades.
I have tasted everything as I bloom.
The morning dews, frozen by the fog at dawn,
The scorching heat of the sun,
The wind that waves under the blue sky,
The dark and the white clouds,
The lightning and the thunder,
The rain and the beautiful rainbow
As if rooted between two mountains,
The moon and the twinkling stars at night.
And out of all,
My most pleasant moment is the gentle breeze,
In the midnight with the shining moon
And the twinkling stars above me in the silent night.
But the striking lightning
And the roaring thunders above scare me the most.
I have quenched my existence as I bloom.
I am happy and am ready to fade
Away my each petals in turn as my pollination stage crossed,
And am ready to reproduce my own offspring soon...
The Deplorables
Because there was hilly billy running around all willy nilly. flipping and flopping his fishy filet, now he's sloppin the mopin today. Out walikin' n chillin', n stalkin road killin', for black pot fillin', the kettle's the villain. Can't quite get it right, fight though he might, his light not bight by a right sight. Yet never has he ever, on any endeavor, goten it together to weather the whatever. Whether he's hootin' n hollerin' or rockin' n rollin', he's stumbling n bumbling, "dem cookie be crumblin." A pathetic excuse this obtuse red recluse, this mighty white wighty n righty up tighty should never reproduce. These cringey, whingey, power stingy, fumblin', grumblin', crumblin', mumbling, creatures' main feature's are backwards preachers, thruth bleachers, no teachers, and NASCAR skreechers. Hee-haw, southern draw, drug withdrawal, slack jaw, Maw n Uncle Papaw. Trumpy dumpy little stumpy, frumpy clumpy always grumpy, no last straw. Vile and bile, world reviled, can't reconcile such a defiled lifestyles, and all the while, siege heil siege heil.