Long Richmond Poems
Long Richmond Poems. Below are the most popular long Richmond by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Richmond poems by poem length and keyword.
June 6, 1944, known as D-Day, allied troops landed on the beaches, an
unpleasant day that started in the early morning hours in
Normandy, France, and turned the tides of World War II. The
effect was the beginning and the liberation of Western Europe and
tanglement from Nazi control.
Exhausted they'd given their lives and we remember them.
Each soldier has their own story of the chaos;
none are the same as they were moved by impulse of the moment.
Their heroism and bravery displayed by troops
has served as inspiration to all our Allied countries.
7/14/2018
Poetry Contest: Juneteenth
Sponsored By: Edward Ibeh
John Lee Richmond pitches baseball first perfect game on June 12, 1880.
United Colonies changed their name to the United States on June 7, 1775.
Navy Captain James Lawrence said, “Don’t give up the ship!”, on June 1, 1813.
Electricity is discovered by Benjamin Franklin and his kite on June 10, 1752.
The Treaty of Versailles was signed to end WWI on June 28, 1919.
England crowned Henry VII King on June 24, 1509.
Emst Enno, Estonian poet and author born on June 8, 1875.
New York held the first fly-casting tournament on June 18, 1861.
Tour of the U.S. by the Rolling Stones started on June 2, 1964.
“Happy Birthday to you”, was first sung on June 27, 1859.
John Cavanagh is thought to be,
The most respectable man in archery,
He fell down a cliff in Switzerland,
And now shoots a compound bow, hand.
He was born the 21st July in 1956,
His Para classification W1 sticks,
Stoke Mandeville gave him the sport,
And he is of a very quiet report.
Picked for the British team in 1995,
He took part in the Euros, a hive,
He’s already been to four Paralympics,
Won top spot in Athens, from the mix.
2008 Beijing, he took silver,
Was part of the London quiver,
So he’s going to Rio de Janeiro,
Because he has lots of memento.
John lives in Wandsworth, London,
His original place of birth, it’s fun,
He has a Botany BSc from Imperial,
And a Msc in IT from Kingston regal.
He trains with Maiden Bowmen,
At Royal Richmond, it’s the den,
And says his hero is everyone,
With the drive to win, overcome.
Civil War II
Perhaps if civil war comes, it will be broken into scores of guerilla wars.
This prolonged agony is a reason General Lee surrendered!
The division in America—2024
Once again, they’ll vote him in
Unfinished business he’s say’n
With inflation, border security, and Putin
If I were President, no war ‘tween Russian and Ukrainian
The root of every problem lies at the feet of DemocRats
I’ll make America even greater again so wish me congrats
With all due respect, say the other body, about MAGA Mayhem
Coming from the Rat Party, Trump’s administration
Second American Civil War erupts
Portland bucks any attempt at a putsch, mobs
on the part of bonkers right wing nutjobs
NOVA-Richmond-Hampton Roads urban corridor
Virginia’s historic ties to the first Civil War
Michigan takes firmly on the blue population
Process of coups and political consolation
Attempt on the part of the Far Right
Blue stand up winning this states fight
New York City is far more progressive
N. Y. State revolutionary hotbed, aggressive
The Big Apple proclaims itself a free city
Maine, Texas, California, I can go on, such a pity
Political Refugees
The Deep South the old confederacy on a political level
Getting extremely excited, a race with the devil
As for the rest of the states, their ability to pick one side, but please
Their biggest problem would be dealing with political refugees
An assessment and something to seriously ponder!
I flop at truck stops
hid by other sleeping truckers.
I like the loneliness.
Amarillo, Detroit, Tacoma, Richmond,
places packed and stacked
with the bad and the good.
I scoot by paying no heed,
to features, just forms,
how bodies once glimpsed
sometimes return inside of me.
Cities of light, death-heads hidden
no one is looking.
I’m not looking either — just driving through,
hauling and honking.
No one looking.
Launderettes and liquor stores;
five finger fandangos in the back,
chicken wings and Jack D.
Atlantic City, Apalachicola,
soaking in the slipstream
while America looks somewhere else.
What are you watching America?
Sometimes I think
only the coyotes are paying attention.
Roads thread through my fingers.
The Great Lakes shimmer,
Rockies rear-up and ripple.
Moving along not looking,
just driving.
Old men on benches stare
as I hammer on by, and blare,
as if I were an 18-wheeled rolling exhibit
of America itself.
Running the 95 from Jacksonville to Richmond
On a Sunday afternoon in June
The thermometer and the road signs read the same
Sunny and hot, the miles were winding away
When the gas tank and the hour called for a pit stop
Down the ramp we went to Small Town South, USA
The sign said BP and Old Time Diner, half mile away
I fed the car first and then snuck across the two lane
The Old Time Diner was not much to look at
The wife was not enthusiastic about the place
However, the boy and I were hungry
Chicken was fried, pork was smoked, beef was slow cooked
And smothered in gravy, collards were sweet, lima beans,
Corn on the cob, biscuits warm, corn bread, banana pudding
Can you smell it? Can you see it? Can you taste it?
The patrons were plentiful, the waitstaff was old
A sound track of greatest hymns serenaded us
I sang along as I know each one
The boy chastised my singing, but with a smile
It’s a joyous meal, I’ve had better vittles
And certainly, dined in more upscale venues
Never enjoyed a meal more!
For almost an hour I fed my belly and my soul
I was witness to America and her people
This was the America I know and love
The America that is everywhere, and yet
Remains hidden to the ones who would deign not
To stop at The Old Time Diner, Small Town South, USA
The sky’s acid blue, and I have an idea
To be approved by you
Let’s catch a cab to Westminster Pier
We'll be standing awhile in a queue
Let’s torment ourselves with a boat ride
Like in the good old days
Watching marinas on riverside
Passing through open gates
Of many locks on the way to Richmond
And as soon as we moor
Let’s visit the Kew and the Hampton Court
That’s what we’re here for
Let’s lunch in the Privy Kitchen café
Then I’ll get lost in the maze
Smiling the silliest smile I’ll pace there
Trying all possible ways
We’ll go for a ride on a horse-drawn carriage
I’ll chat with the coachman of topics
Not so important like Royals marriage
While you’ll be taking some pics
I’ll buy a walnut brandy before we set sail
Back to the Westminster pier
It’ll be quite an outing to repeat that trail
What do you think, my dear?
I take your silence as a sign of consent
I knew you’d accept my plan
There’s just one nuance, that wasn’t meant
Hope you will understand.
.
I’m passing through a bad part of Richmond,
a long trip almost over. Night rain drizzles
wipers creak monotonously,
the blacktop no longer flying
but crawling over my eyes.
On the edge of the city
there’s a liquor store, maybe the last
before the dark interior of Ohio.
I park under its low neon shadows.
Two belligerent drunks
are fighting, both missing each other
in slow motion.
Inside the store
more unsteady men argue,
there arms gesticulating
like broken windmills,
plus one sleazy feme yelling silently
but I can lipread most swear words.
The nightshift counter-clerk is a kid
and he looks like he’s ready to bolt.
Maybe I could slip in there unnoticed
past all the sweaty mayhem.
Maybe make do with a cold beer,
throw some dollars down
make off into the night unscathed
by lashing tongues or flailing fists
More imagined nocturnal scenarios
scatter in my head like dandelion seeds
dispersing on a dry wind.
I still need a drink.
I promise I would be a good girl when I go out into the world, I promise to stay out of trouble and return home in a hurry. I promised never to play in the street or walk barefoot, I promise I would stay in school and complete the semester and when the climate changed, I promise to graduate and study at the university.
It’s seems like yesterday when I utter such word when I was at play. I was thirteen and you were thirty-three and I always looked up to thee. You have always encouraged me to hold my head high and never look into ground that hold the dust of shame to its core, and the molten lava spewing through the hole and entering the spot where the disgraced soldier, conceptualize the plot.
I can still hear those words ringing in my ears as I walk the path that everyone fears, it is the moment of truth that is embedded in my youth and the ordeal I encountered on life’s journey comes back to remind me.
I could tell from the start that you are a heart breaker and the season come to remind me that the fault is within me and love is my destiny; when the autumn is done and winter comes along and the snow starts falling, it will fill the lakes and the trees, the ocean and sea and you will come and dance with me.
We will do the river dance on the roof and do the fire dance in a circle, then we will roll in the snow and touch each other dignity, and Boston and Richmond will come alive, Baltimore and Washington DC will take the dive, but New York and Philadelphia will ride out the snowstorm.
It seems like yesterday the climate changed and the clouds start fading away. I stood on those very steps and recited the whole chapter, I stood on that step and grasp every living character, I remember how you cast your eyeballs at me and how the mountain shook beneath the sea when you said, “will you marry me?”
“I am only thirteen, “she said, and I cannot lie in that big bed, “Yes I will marry you,” she replied, she held breath for a while and look on every side and you were still standing looking at her; then a gust of wind came, and you suddenly disappeared, and I stood on the step gazing at the wind.
The daughter's promise was fulfilled, and they walk boldly up the hill after thirty-three years in the making the universe had their blessing, the evidence is in the wind and you can hear it when you are still, winter is chiming in.
Between Blue Ridge Mountains and Chesapeake Bay
Almost eight and a half million people here do sashay,
One of the original colonies, back in the settlers’ day,
Part of the American Revolution, Virginia was, in a big way.
Pony Express Riders did not stop to eat much or play.
They traveled quickly, then scooted just as quickly away.
Presidents grew up here – four out of the first five, anyway.
Virginia houses the Pentagon, a formidable building in every way.
The mountains are beautiful. Their smoky secrets squirreled away.
The waters are cool and clean – Potomac and Chesapeake Bay.
We love our trip to Virginia, have to stay much more than one day.
In the evening we can find Shenandoah Salamander, if we choose to stay.
King Dominion’s Amusement Park advocated for children in a big way.
They determine when school can open, and it is not before Labor Day.
Virginia is full of politicians, and each thinks they must have their say.
Have some peanuts, made popular by soldiers back in the Civil War day.
Come in the autumn when the leaves are golden and the squirrels play.
Or in the winter when the Christmas shops are alive and dancing in full sway.
Virginia is expensive, but you can eat the homemade fudge down Richmond way.
Just come on over and have a good time. We guarantee that you’ll sashay.
The winter of discontent has frozen the kingdom,
not by the sunk sun of York that lost the warmth,
but by the chilling shadow of a spine,
as distorted and crooked as the scary soul.
Born physically deformed, indignant of a world
that ridicules his looks, he decides to be a rogue.
His acrimony becomes the cornerstone
of pitiless political manipulation,
because for him the world is a game of chess,
where every other piece is disposable.
His suppressed scruples begin to shatter
as he commands the two young princes
in the Tower be murdered—an act so atrocious
a dark winter of isolation enfolds his realm.
With scary scheming, he woos Lady Anne
alongside the coffin of her father-in-law,
whom he himself has killed,
but through adulation and contrived humility,
Richard compels people to bend to his desire,
disguising his brutality within concocted charm.
Ultimately, Richard’s audacity leads to agony,
for he faces defeat at the hands of Richmond.
His death marks the end of oppression,
and the renewal of crumbled ethical statute.
His ascend and decline enunciates the paradigm of aspiration,
corrupted by the conniving craving for power.
Richard The Third is an intriguing depiction of evil,
yet, excitingly enigmatic and awfully human.