Long Resourcefulness Poems
Long Resourcefulness Poems. Below are the most popular long Resourcefulness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Resourcefulness poems by poem length and keyword.
It was a summer of indifference
Billionaire Nazis who preach ethnic cleansing
And powerful ladies clad in iron
Play tug of war
With the hearts and souls of the people
While governors deceive the populace and their own parties
And confused men in collars and cassocks
Betray their vows, principles,
And even the people
They are supposed to lead.
It was a summer of blood
Black mothers in black clothes
Attend the funerals
Of their Black sons
Killed by
Their own Black Brothers
Or by Blue Klansmen
With smoking guns and shining shields
While urban brigades
Mourn the loss of true knights
Murdered by
Desperate, exhausted, and enraged men
Who have witnessed more than enough
Of their people being oppressed
By those sworn to protect them
While the suburbanites and gentrifiers
Look the other way
Or applaud the lynchings
While savages plow into school children
Behead Christian babies
Rape Christian women
Slash the throats of priests
And destroy Christian communities
Even though we are supposed to be
People of the Book
While those who peacefully practice Islam
Are being told they are unwelcome.
It was the summer of chaos
People parade the streets
With signs
Shouting
Black Lives Matter
Blue Lives Don't
Men use toilets
Next to little girls
Six years olds
Are being taught about
The birds and the bees
And the ticks and the fleas
Infanticidal Mengelites
Teach girls
confidence and resourcefulness.
We are no longer people
With free wills and open hearts
We are no more than pawns
In a political chess tournament
Of the Sick Left
Against the Cold Right
What is right is wrong
What is wrong is right
Dear Lord
When will you have enough?
When will the
Fall of Jerusalem
Finally arrive?
Maybe that is the only way
This madness will end.
How many more chances
Do we need?
How much longer will you stand there
While the pigs come to
Spit on Your Countenance
And crush Your pearls?
I sigh for Your
City on the Hill
And long to see its gates
Meanwhile, I tarry to the mountains
Before I am tempted to
Join the sultry, drunken orgy
Of lost souls who hang the decent
And silence the morally outspoken
Whilst chanting
Eat, drink, and indulge
For you only live once
There is an important difference
between being accessible
and becoming more engaging,
engaged,
engage-able.
To access support and resources
for health care giving
and wealth care resourceful receiving
is not nutritionally sufficient to resiliently
resonantly engage
As non-violent access
to absence of rage
is not peace enough to fully engage
So too,
access to eternal love,
timeless truths,
polypathic wise ways
and polynomially balancing bilateral means
does not, for most of us,
fully engage with Earth's cooperative interior voices
speaking and listening,
widening and deepening,
outing and in-ing,
outside and inside
Yang and Yin
ego and eco-sourcing
resourcing
pre-sourcing
un-sourcing
anti-sourcing
revolutionary engagement
evolutionary source enabling
health-wealth access
with every day
every body
every thing
every relationship
multi-dependently embracing.
Access to bicameral deductive thought
and inductive feelings of interdependent resourcefulness
and isolating despair,
as outlined by ethologist Julian Jaynes,
and all textures and hues and cries between
Mother's warm wet womb
and YangHere with YinNow
Is not resiliently sufficient
to resonantly engage bilaterally resilient co-investments,
as taught by Edward De Bono.
Just as access to a lover
is not necessarily sufficient
to fully engage those thoughts and feelings yet unknown,
undisclosed
for lack of trust
we will be GoldenRule treated
by healthy wealth of compassioning WinWin care,
Aware
of interdependent relational space,
accessible to sight,
but also inter-related time,
engaged through deep listening
networks of interdependent historical and cultural causes
evolving toward this engaging ego with eco-effect
for healing and toxic causes yet to follow
through future inaccessible regenerations
We actively hope will be at least as health engaged
as is true
and trusted
with and for
and of Earth's interdependent inevitable moments,
YangHere further accessing
YinFlow past through future
engaging Now
Ego EcoSourcing,
CoPassions multi-laterally Here,
personal space ecopolitically engaging
relentless public/private health care time.
Freedom with far Freedom with Order with less Order with far
less emphasis on less emphasis emphasis on less emphasis
Order - on Order - Freedom - on Freedom - ___________________________ ____________________________
F Far-reaching Fundamental O Opportunistic Onerous
R Rectifications; Receptivity R Responses Regulatory
E Effectuating Expressly D Diminishing Dogmas;
E Evolving Empowering E Empirical Emplacing
D Determinants Diversity; R Rights; Rules
O Ostensibly Optimizing L Lessening Limiting
M Maximizing Meritocratic E Effective Equalitarianism;
L Laissez-faire; Lifestyles; S Subgroup Subverting
E Exhorting Enhancing S Sureties; Safeguards;
S Superior Systemic F Fostering Formalizing
S Sensibilities; Subjectivism; R Regimens Restrictions;
O Obviating Operationalizing E Eroding Engendering
R Revisionism; Responsiveness E Egalitarianism; Exclusivity;
D Demanding Developing D Devaluing Demonizing
E Exceptional Eclectic O Objective Oppositional
R Resourcefulness. Representations. M Messaging. Movements.
___________________________
Above are these competing views
Of social construct ends
And choice is not to win or lose
But how they all should blend.
The truth is each is built into
The fabric of our days
Requiring that we must pursue
Sound, realistic ways.
Judicious blend is what we need
To keep us on due course -
With none promoted to exceed
And sanction our remorse.
Oh, where do you sleep my lost German friend,
where do your bleached bones lie?
Believe me good Sir, we did search for you,
we gave it our best try.
You woke from its sleep this giant of a land
by treading the wild unknown,
displaying true grit and resourcefulness,
you're known for that alone.
From Brisbane you trekked to Port Essington,
a journey of courage no doubt.
You gambled with fate, though played out a trump,
a feat still talked about.
By ship you then sailed to Sydney down south,
where you were lionised.
Your name it was on almost every lip,
your fame unequalised.
The blood in your veins, though, hungered to
search
that never-never, land
and set on your way to wake her some more,
though fate laid down her hand.
The last written words you penned to this world
came from McPherson's run,
north-west of the town called Roma, Sir,
then near oblivion.
Though men talk about you to this very day
around the campfire’s glow,
your name is embedded in mystery, Sir,
"Just where did Leichhhardt go?"
"Oh, where do you sleep my lost German friend",
is asked by city push
and all that the country folk can reply,
is "Leichhardt”s in the bush."
The Cecil Plains Homestead, on the Darling Downs, Queensland, held a special day to
commemorate the explorer Ludwig Leichhardt and in conjunction with the day they held a
written competition with the subject- theme being, “Leichhardt in the Bush”. The above
poem took out 1st place.
My given name is of no consequence.
You can call me Spider Girl.
It’s an appropriate name, I think.
I’m indistinguishable in many ways
from billions of other creatures just like me.
(Character building experiences
tend to breed cartoons.)
I might appear pretty easy to step on
but don't underestimate resourcefulness
and long legs.
Anyway, I’m going to do my
darnedest to weave something
worthy of your attention
or whatever you will end up spending
to buy this comic book
because I’ve got a daughter to raise
and let’s face it: long legs alone
ain’t gonna pay the bills.
My enemies vary:
Thugs who crow too loudly,
evil geniuses (they tend to keep mum),
crime bosses,
even monsters who are out of this world.
I share a universe with heroes, too,
some I used to run with –
although “with” sort of works as
an elaboration of the truth.
A prevarication.
A provocation.
One should not provoke me.
I don’t quite know what I’m capable of yet.
Mommies of all species will kill for their young.
I’ve heard it’s instinctual –
but, what if that’s just an excuse to
step over the line,
take a seat,
cross one’s legs,
look tough,
and watch someone else suffer?
It’s that violence
the drug I crave…
Are you frightened of me yet?
Good.
Maybe you should be.
What does it mean, when the Sand gets stuck?
(Gets stuck in the Hourglass)
What does it mean about time?
What does it mean about space?
Are we given a Respite?
(I meant, ‘was I?’)
Does this mean that all callow cruelty has been redeemed?
Resourcefulness in God has won me over?
Right Use of every tibbet (tidbit) that was unspoken
Is to come?
… I do not know, I do not know, I do not know…
And yet, I climb, as if my Life depends each step, on climbing
(And somehow, I feel sure, that I will fall!)
And yet, I crazy-climb, as if my pictured Life is useless without climbing
(Will I, someday, eventually, reach a wall?)
For TIME to STOP, man, that’s a gift worth having!
It means, you haven’t left me, though you died,
It means, a breath is open for my salving,
Before another breath comes, and the Tide
Comes, bruising
All my sand-castles, and halves of dreams, and hopes
And Azrael* has got me on the ropes…
But, he’s my friend…
He’ll only come to me, when my date’s Due
And though I run from him, still at the End,
He’ll gently come and take me on to You.
____________
2/18/2019
____________
*Azrael – in Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem of the same name, the Angel of Death
I keep ringing your phone
Only to get back the last memory again
A voice frilled with youth
Laughing at the old man's obstinacy
One day you shall wish to find
In the centripetal torment of the world
I still pray for you
That his promise to you only good
And not evil
Through all your unmeasured out days
Will be more obstinate than my love.
I once rocked you from side to side
And know more days with you still
That any journal
Written between coffee break and lunch
Or long nights of absences and lies
To the empty heart supplied.
When you remember this and call
May lips not be sealed
Under some slab by a concrete wall
I just want to hear your voice ring
In my heart once again
ii
Are you whole yet
Or you still afraid of shadows
Painted by your regrets
In the minds of crowds?
Can you make a fool of yourself
And love the way
The world laugh with you in a silly moment
Can you be yourself
And be proud of who you are
And your freedom not to follow some script
Of self appropriateness?
I tell you there is no success
Like the maturity
Self fruitfulness from that resourcefulness
Of acceptance
Of self and the world
As different places in similar times.
Born the daughter of a Lemhi Shoshone chief
she was captured by the Hidatsa in her teens.
And sold to the Mandan Missouri River tribe
where she met and married Toussaint Charbonneau.
A French Canadian trapper and a trail guide
Charbonneau was familiar with the region.
Meriwether Lewis and William Clark spent a
winter with the Mandan waiting for the spring thaw.
Toussaint and Sacagawea were hired as their guides
and in 1805 they set out to explore the wilderness.
While on the trail she gave birth to her son Pompey
and strapping him to a cradle-board they trudged on.
A strong woman and a gifted interpreter
known for her perseverance and resourcefulness.
Bird Woman helped to persuade many native tribes
of the peaceful intent of the expedition.
Once a canoe capsized jeopardizing all of
their valuable possessions and journal entries.
Yet she saved the logbooks of this epic journey
including the navigational charts and maps.
A legendary figure in history she
was indispensable to Lewis and Clark’s trek.
And today She’s honored on a golden dollar
a rare coin issued by the United States Mint.
You shouldn't know the colour of falling light
As it descends into the abyss of passion.
When limbs intertwine in sweet complete delight
And the thin skin wraps the fiery flesh
In the soothing caress of the conductor's hand
Cris crossing and cutting the air afresh
With his smooth effervescent and pulsating baton.
You shouldn't know the colour of his seduction,
His ragged jagged downward pointing chin,
The tangled mangled wilderness of his beard,
The forceful resourcefulness of his kisses,
The colours of that fascinating rude tattoo.
The feeling of injection and quick retraction,
You shouldn't know the colour of his flame,
Or the sound of his intoxicating and secret name
You must somehow savour with hungry lust.
Eyes rolling back as you inevitably fall
It is all some God almighty magnetic rich taboo.
His name, his eyes, the things you will recall
In the lonely moments of night time longing,
When you know it was all a dreadful act of wronging
That must be forever pushed aside, inside, denied,
Far away from the colour of the falling light.
© Allen Ansell 2025
Iridescence
intermingle
explicate
wriggle
& inspire
placidity
immaculate
prearrange
dedicate
& appreciate
accolade
amplify
achieve
affection
&bravery
intrepid
explore
galvanize
promise
& specify
symbiosis
relationship
cooperation
stipulate
& venture
shrewd
resourcefulness
recommendation
unpredictable
& corroboration
Obdurate
resist
persuade
endure
&reincarnate
acquiesce
argue
comply
quiet
& blissful
tremendous
tempting
teamwork
tantalizing
&bespoke
conundrum
intricate
wrestle
to nurture
solemnity
Written: March 24, 2023
1st place contest winner
A Brian Strand Premiere No 1202 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand