Long Rhodes Poems
Long Rhodes Poems. Below are the most popular long Rhodes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rhodes poems by poem length and keyword.
And yet that is what,
They would have us believe
- it's coincidence only..
'Nothing to see'
A coincidence fatale,
Would you possibly
believe,
But our senses, hearts and minds,
aren't so smothered nor subdued
- that we cannot perceive,
Total control of the food
China their blueprint,
the tool and the example
Recall Naval Blockade
for Opium Brown,
Unearthing vast resources,
Technocratic minerals
so precious
are taken out and shipped
by East India Crown,
For the rest of the planet
to taste but not sample,
The Dark Continent to bathe only - in blood to drown
And yet that is what,
They would have us believe
- it's coincidence only..
'Nothing to see'
Bolshevik Banksters South Africa,
Cecil Rhodes' Round Table
- of Gold
Totalitarianism through
crippling debt to unfold
Manipulating countries World Bank, IMF
Creative funding - NGOs Lobbying 'necessary' Debt
plus coercion extortion,
Inner Circle Deception
Zimbabwe, Mugabe a pawn
to despair
Pen to paper, international, immoral signature they dare,
to wit:
Libya's 'Colonel' Gaddafi
put in place to commit,
independently solvent, perhaps
- realised too late
Any dissenters are jailed
or sanctioned to death
Aside from this, there is now hope
The Continent's cries
being heard at last..
by a majority common sense?
Other nations debate,
are now looking fast
for better, more ethical Laws that don't exactly depend on what they took,
It is after all an unpayable debt,
On the same old-Babylonian disastrous fate..
Though not yet, not yet
Astonishingly, Incredibly
though,
that's exactly what..
- They would have us believe
There's plenty to see,
if we care enough - to look.
Kurt Hubbard-Beale
May 28th 2021
During covid 19 lockdown
ThePoetTree
Awaken Poetry. Awareness Poetry. Geopolitical. Philosophical. Music. Shared
1,316 DAYS
Marvelous Roman, reigning strong, sturdy and supreme,
Swathed in gold, a glorious, gleaming wrestling dream.
Champion for ages, Unconquerable, resolute,
From ringside to rumble, his valor absolute.4
One thousand three hundred sixteen days he did hold,
The championship gleaming in victory untold.6
But at Wrestlemania's resplendent ring he blooms,
At the grandest of stage, a reckoning looms,
Cody Rhodes, cunning & courage he consumes.
Fiery fight, fierce & fearless, in the fading twilight,
Roman's rule relinquished, in a single, seismic sight.¹¹
1316 days of dominance, dethroned in a mere blink,
The crown passes, the victor's vigor, vibrant, not a link.
Echoes of era-ending, a new narrative blooms,
For Cody, courageous conqueror, the coliseum fumes.¹5
For 3 & half years, the champion stood tall,
But against the American Nightmare, he began to fall.
Fierce and fearless, in the fight they clash,
History in the making, in this epic bash.¹?
So farewell to the champion, whose reign was so long,
History etched, in the epic wrestling song.
As Roman rests, reviving in legacy's light,
Cody ascends, a new era dawns, bold and bright.²³
Cheer for the New WWE Champion's name,
It's Cody Rhodes, the American Nightmare's game.
Here comes the end of an era's passing of the torch,
In WWE history, a triumphant march.²7
VICK MANUEL POETRY
{VMP}
FORM: Alliteration/Rhymes
Copyright ©? 12th April 2024.
We are going to Corfu, what a great thing,
Come on its booked, let’s go and buy everything.
‘Hang on,’ say’s hubby, 'In Corfu it rains a lot'.
'I want more sun, not the rain, we have already got.'
But it’s booked we are ready one week to go,
‘I want to change it’ he says, 'so to Rhodes we will go.’
At that time we didn’t know what a crossroads that was,
Instead of Corfu, we changed it because,
My husband and I wanted more sun than the rain
That was the point in changing our plane.
Ok, we are at the airport, now watching and waiting
The flight we were booked on was just to the runway taking.
It stopped all of a sudden and smoke did appear,
The poor people on board, they could not get out of her.
We had changed our holiday on a whim because of rain
Fifty Four people died in front of us on that plane.
The plane we had booked but had changed at the end
Took all of those lives but our prayers we did send.
The crossroads had appeared we were lucky that day
We had changed our course and our lives that we can say.
But to the families of those that perished back then
We have never forgotten and ours prayers still go out for them.
When I was only just school age,
My dad became very serious once,
As he was a fundamentalist Christian,
And wanted to know how I was forming my words.
When he asked how I felt about roads,
I knew exactly what he was talking about,
He was taking the phonetic sound,
And asking about my subjectivity for my shout.
But I was glad secretly to myself,
That my first name was a positivity,
That it spoke outrightly of a journey,
And that it was after the Island of Rhodes most definitely.
I knew what my dad was up to,
He was subliminally asking if I believed in god,
‘Cos he’d insisted that Rhoda in the Bible,
Was the only derivation of that name somewhat odd.
So, yet again, I evaded the question,
And used my disability to claim lack of knowledge,
But since I couldn’t fake a speech problem the whole time,
Concluded with an admission of liking Rhodes carriageways!
But seriously, Rhoda is after the island Rhodes,
And Monihan reminds me of monkeys,
‘Han’ is for hands which state activity,
In evolution’s process of family trees.
‘I’ is for me, which emphasises that I matter,
To the whole scale of things, the entire picture,
That evolution made me and I that affect it,
And that I can be met by other people or organisms of different structure.
I think my name is just fine, and it has done me well,
Given me strength when I had none,
Directed when I needed suggestion and focus,
And commended me for what I have done.
A light under a bucket, yes..I've hidden there
been the squeaky wheel that got the oil
acted uncaring, had my ups and had my downs
lifted folks on my shoulders
acted the sage, acted the clown
hope to fill a stage before I'm over...
from between closed lids
iris's roll as day breaks pane
lashes move aside
Questioned the right, questioned the wrong
been a sanctuary to many..
straddled Goliath like the colossus of Rhodes
there's an owl-handled knife near my bed.
seeing halfway round
trust in your ability to turn
who are you
Fall into me now, soft and warm,
come into my light for you know, I've some of yin
I've some of yang and light peeps out you know.
You new born chicks who strobe in the light
remember, the dark can not hide you..
Your soul your chi, the light of God will
aid and let ALL find you.
*Free Verse and senryu
Spoken Word Poetry: A Groove Through Time
Man, you’re just a real gone cat/breaking the habit and diggin’ something new/
Your world spins fast with the beat/ your music collection—a limited edition on the Acid Side of the Jazzy beat/
a gold standard Acid jazz kaleidoscope of sound/
Acid Jazz LPs dance like shadows in the street/ so you are hip to Acid Jazz, a genre born in the night, Funk, soul, and hop intertwined/
a rhythm that pulses and ignites, elements of funk, soul, and hip-hop, as well as disco, started in London’s clubs/
it began to unwind with drugs sex, and the deep beat of percussion that flows from the spin tables and the DJ mix into subcultures, including rave, acid house, and jungle that flooded the superclubs like the river’s current,
Man, it was a nu British sound that had its own records shops, and music producers/
live performance, an electric embrace, a tapestry woven with the threads of the past, an anthem for a nu sound/
ain’t it cool, man, to swing and sway? Acid cool, with words that play, each note a story, every beat a fight, against the social and political realities of the day/
from the UK to the States in the ‘90s/
broken beats, deep funk, a hip new sound, born in clubs/ a deep history resurrected/
Hip hop producers diving deep in the trunk of
old town bump de bump funk/
Electric Rhodes, guitars that gleam, Jazz-funk—triple threat, the dream, steppin’ out to that new Acid Jazz sound, Brand New Heavies, where vibes abound. James Taylor Quartet, Jazz Hole, Jamiroquai, spinning out of control all deep into the show/
Eddie Piller, the architect, of Acid Jazz Records—music to reflect/
Disc jockeys, producers, crafting the groove, adding percussion, making the old move, sampling the past with a sleazy intent, Old Skool mentality, a love that won’t relent/
Lofi vibes ride the waves of the scene, A boost of spoken word slam jazz, a dream within a dream/
So dig on brother and let the music wrap you, let it break your square mold/
In this young history of Acid Jazz, let the stories be told/ step into the rhythm, and let your dancin’ feet fly/
In this world of sound, we’ll never say goodbye, for there is always someone to meet on this Acid Jazz ride/
TV SHOPPING MADNESS
The mad Christmas shopping on
TV has begun.
Hair dryers for close to 400 dollars.
Tons of electrical stuff that will make us anything
but Rhodes scholars!.
Some of you ladies will remember
when clothes came in sizes?
Now they like Zeppelins, we,
too,can look the one that rises!
Vacuum cleaners, of all types.
My favorite for three hundred dollars
is one robotic.
That spins on your floor, shiny
and makes me totally hypnotic!
Serums, masks and cremes galore.
You put on a beauty mask,and you will be
twenty-one when you walk out the door?
All manner of organizers, leopard,
patriotic or gold,
Truly, a sight one would have to behold.
Those who do not have a TV, now
don't let your egos get you huffy!
Commercialism has a way of getting to
you!
Even with beds for your faithful dog~
Muffy.
I have never seen HSN and QVC
in such a panic!
One product every ten minutes?
It makes me mutterly manic!
So, back to soothing music and
writing poetry.
And very choice readings from the
inspiring of you, to humanity.
November 9, 2019
~Panagiota~
Holiday Paradise
is burning Rhodes is surrounded by invading fires and blue sea
no modern weaponry can stop this brutal onslaught.
The Med is far from here, where the Atlantic breeze is cooling
we who do not travel watch the fire with awe
Further afield, people have too much water the drown and
become refugees trying to find a safe place.
Are there any safe places left?
Those who think their country is secure will not share
it with the driftwood coming to their shores.
California is burning villas made of timber are matchboxes
For the rich to feel the heat, but does it make them kinder?
Of course, it has nothing to do with us, we who live in a place
where the breeze from the North Atlantic is cooling.
In this time of life, the pandemic is just the beginning
of a total breakdown of the world we knew, the day may
come, when Outer Mongolia is a relatively safe place to go
as it has no flooding to speak of but has plenty of drugs
to pass the time while waiting for a fire to reach us.
The skull had been opened as you would a coconut
To sip the sweet sap. Tsal's blood skips with his fear
At the thoughts hitting his head, but his fears are proven fact
When he sees a silver spoon in the head, spoon branded "Pierre".
Further down the seabed, lies another identical but intact specimen
With a matching fork he'd attempted to stick into another bone,
Before his last mitochondrion, like its peers, gave up on the machine,
Surrendering to fatigue, thirst, and probably a grave wound as shown by marks on the foot bones.
Tsal turns to Pezal to share the shock on both their faces
It was university all over again, trying to understand this:
There was water, there were plants, fertile land in most places,
And yet cannibalism was the last act of this great species.
Despair from hunger, intoxication, thirst which dominated
A race which once ordered water about with pumps and dams,
Told the wind where to blow, had command over all ever created,
But chose to destroy and not rebuild in their crazy advance.
There are many more heads half buried by the mocking wind,
Complete with scarred arms and legs, with once plastic clothes
Ripped and singed in the hot abrasive vengeful wind,
The wind which once was a gentle breeze in which bathed the olives of Rhodes.
(c) Nyonglema
I found it unsatisfactory sat in a factory
and I guess my hand for guests was no sanctuary,
however the Hilton and Roper Rhodes were jobs I held the most.
I was honest never robbed,
naturally ran my gob,
wanted girls on my n...…
Some jobs have an immunity,
they're not part of a community,
you or a few never suited me,
and I never aimed for the suit,
always content at the root.
I was a lad doing what lads do,
looking bad as girls I went through,
that's the aim of a lad it's true,
may have looked like a selfish user to you.
I was always out to have fun when I was young,
didn't need a partner or companion, not one,
the victory was a pull and I always won,
walk of shame.... never, I'm proud of what I've done.