Long Reserve Poems
Long Reserve Poems. Below are the most popular long Reserve by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reserve poems by poem length and keyword.
this day's news
Four Hamas hostages were freed today
after a daring raid by the IDF
the jubilation was great to witness
the ethnicity was clearly displayed
The dramatic rescue cost the lives of
hundreds of Palestinians, many of them
children who otherwise could have
become adults and joined the Hamas
68% of Israel's population agree
with Netanyahu's politics of what is
nothing more than murder.
Israel is relentless in their pursuit
of Hamas that mostly kills the innocent
as Hamas is the only group the group
that speaks for Palestine, one thinks
Israel must be considered a terrorist
In the USA where the defense
of Israel's right to defend itself is absolute
we see their youth has caught on
and sees the truth.
To vilify the perceived enemy is all too
common, occupied Russia-speaking part
of Ukraine, a rocket hit a building complex
many civilians killed, we see Ukraine's
the strong man received this news with glee
Let me say although my heart goes to
Gaza, I reserve the right to the Islamic
hateful voice spreading over Europe
I have this little Ginger Cat.
Lord knows what he sees
in me! – cutest adoring eyes
I don’t deserve; purrs in
reserve, as he settles to cuddle
and be stroked.
All I do is feed him, a bowl of
fresh water couple times a day --
box of clay for his business – but,
I could almost swear, that there is
true love for me, exhibited in even
our mundane close encounters
given a chance, he would kill every
backyard dove...just for fun shred
I guess, he’s only being a cat for I
keep him well fed
hoping God instructs Michael
to give similar latitude when it
comes to His Man
sure can be confusing, when
considering, God, and His, often, perplexing
species' plan....
I am disappointed in the referendum,
The English are still friends;
Wallace fought for human rights,
And to live within our ends.
All people are of equal worth,
But nationality means self-government,
Of poverty, healthcare, criminality, and education,
So that state-giving is not an event.
The problem is really Westminster -
Its seats make different decisions,
From our socialist, fair-thinking deliberations,
Which cause deep, insightful positions.
Salmond tried his hardest to secure,
The identity and freedom of independence:
Our own pocket would recursively generate,
The confidence of self-assurance.
Devolution is only half the story,
It does not position the cart;
Of wealth and influence which fragment,
In centralisation’s s
Freedom is gold, something enabling,
And to have it we must wield;
Sturgeon stands to build the society,
A flourishing democracy yields.
My party is just my party,
But our national one deserves the chance,
To govern from Westminster without reserve:
This day, they’ve got our glance.
More power to Scotland would enable,
Businesses, schools and communities to thrive,
Establishing themselves more firmly,
Becoming dynamic drives.
The tartan has gone global,
In scarfs and shirts that casually cheer,
And the Black Watch can be spotted everywhere,
In jackets, skirts and trousers which endear.
I have resolved that regarding the three countries,
Not to live in resentful, distrusting mayhem,
But, whenever they pertain to me,
To live with them, by them, and for them.
The Scottish Referendum took place on Thursday the 18th of September 2014, when those for independence from the UK lost, so we're still part of the UK.
They were gathered round the billabong
to try to work things out
but all that was being emitted was
a right Caxton of sounds
All were jabber, jabber
and some pushing going on
jostling each other for space
none wanting to be left out
At last the wallaby said
whoa, stop I say STOP
and quiet finally fell
Lets give the chair to cockatoo
He can perch up high
from where he can
keep things moving
so watch for his signal
Cockatoo opened the meeting
and first called on Dingo
you get everywhere Dingo
what have you heard?
Dingo says I heard the humans
they are going to cut down
the blue ridge forest
and build many houses there
That can not happen
it is our home
we will have to work together
if we band we can delay their work
So the animals agreed on a plan
the big animals would sit in the roads
slowing the trucks down
While the monkeys would hide their tools
Snakes would wrap their bodies
around the marked trees
while the birds and parrots
the workers they would bomb
All this drove the foreman to despair
the work fell further and further behind
We could build netted fences
but that only stops the large animals
The Wet will be on us
in less than a month
if the land is still un-cleared
all work will come to a stop
I think we need to reconsider
and turn the Blue Ridge mountains
into a reserve for them all
there are plenty of other places
Where we can build
that do not have many animals
lets leave them the ridges
then we and our children
Will have a sanctuary
to come and watch these fighters
they have shown us the errors
not all land should be built on
At the next meeting
Dingo told them you are safe
your homes will be left untouched
all we all have to do is show our faces
Pose for the odd photo
amuse with a few tricks
and in return
we can live in peace
White crystals glitter, a snowfield of light.
The silence fallen, a spirit's delight.
The pointing fingers, deep in delusion.
The ends, not the means, make the decision.
The challenge is known, to fight this hard place.
We are honor-bound, the saving of face.
Yet the world gives, to those who deserve.
Living as did kings, on private reserve.
The design of love, how it becomes true.
Here on a planet, shimmering and blue.
Then when the times change, for the rule of law.
Except for one thing, our fate to a flaw.
The shine from behind grows ever stronger.
That comes from goodness and lasts much longer.
There is a fine line, between good and bad.
Same as the joy, that's born of the sad.
When to Earth one fell, as a lion roared.
To show us the way, as a soul restored.
Comes in the distance, deaths silhouette.
Dance with the devil, the pain of regret.
The teller's fortune, written in the hand.
The empires of man, turn back into sand.
The secret is told, in a coded sign.
That the power flows, from the great divine.
There is no way out, to die here we must.
Like the hallowed Earth, we settle like dust.
The end comes to all, fashioned from the clay.
Who live and who love, this beautiful day!
GOLDEN YEARS
Lasting just a moment.Lost forever
without a sound.A forever sigh,
a hedonistic cry,sunshine’s caress has
departed too soon.Too soon I am bedecked
in autumn’s bloom.Oceans of calm,so mellow
my tears dry on the breeze as the yellow red
fades in the remains of the day.
Only reserve holds love at arm’s length,
for submission leans on strength.Love is
indeed a treasured possession e’en though
beauty grows old and virtues seemingly
dissolve,love stays unchanging,bubbles away in
gestures of trust.Held close,love still sets the
emotions free,still brings forth captivation.
Yes I still love her,who loves me
You may listen to me recite this and many of my PS poetry on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro
A groovy many galactic bodies circle the sun.
Yet wandering almost, different stars spun.
Wander aimlessly, sobbing in sorrow.
Memories weep tears as we gently harrow.
Men are obsessed with their dignity.
Dread losing it as they acquire it utterly.
Peas are picked under an extreme storm.
Rain is falling on the smokestack form.
In adoration, trust requires alert and reserve.
It guarantees any other freedom swerve.
We ought to be watchful while looking for our mates.
Since applying one's will is frequently relates.
Thunder is heard at night when the sky is lit.
It's lenient to imagine how loud squeals can hit.
Lasting just a moment.
Lost forever without a sound.
A forever sigh,a hedonistic cry,
sunshine’s caress has departed too soon.
Too soon I am bedecked
in autumn’s bloom.
Oceans of calm,so mellow
my tears dry on the breeze
the yellow red fades in the remains of the day.
Only reserve holds love at arm’s length,
for submission leans on strength.
Love is indeed a treasured possession
e’en though.beauty grows old
and virtues seemingly dissolve,
love stays unchanging,
bubbles away in gestures of trust.
Held close,love still sets the emotions free,
still brings forth captivation.
Yes I still love her,who loves me
Outside the city, tasty pomegranates grow,
the Wakefields look forward to delayed honeymoon.
British coffee merchant, James was raised in Bordeaux.
Each day, they sample wines after lunch, after noon;
sober sweethearts smile, their selections apropos.
New to their palates - pomegranate/cranberry,
two acidic fruits, both improve in the blending;
secret recipes mix sweetness with pungency.
The two lovers delve in, raw tastes that are trending;
mixing with dry merlot, a cheese rich and creamy.
James relishes sharing his past with Mallory,
his new bride of three weeks and his dearest delight.
It is here, she'll meet his extended family.
It’s here they foster new clients, enjoy old sights.
Here, they reserve a right and preference for coffee.
written 12 April 2016
Years ago ... I once considered her my best friend
we would go shopping and stop for lunch or just tea
we liked to talk of all sorts of things
she complimented my writing and art
I liked her a lot
I trusted her too
and I thought she was loyal
I never imagined cruelty
that she would just turn
disappear from my life ... gone
with no reason or the explaining of why
I left messages
but with no reply
I got the message loud and clear
I tried to figure it out
for I knew that I had done nothing wrong
never spoke to her again or tried
and that's okay I was just fine with being me
though I did feel hurt and rejected, and
I felt like ... I could never trust again
_____________________
February 10, 2023
Poetry/Free Verse/Hurt and Rejected - IFL
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1524-474-10
All Rights Reserve, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, I Felt Like
sponsor, Charles Messina, Judged 02/20/2023
Second Place