Long Rita Poems
Long Rita Poems. Below are the most popular long Rita by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rita poems by poem length and keyword.
To the authorities, your hands may be clean...yet to those who matter most...to those
looking up at you now with welled up eyes, your hands drip reddish black with my
blood...the children catch a glimpse of your sly victor's smile...quickly you hide it
behind a newly saddened facade, feigned and fabricated. The price of your happiness pales
in comparison to it's cost, woman...you just don't know it yet...
In this life and the next, I shall be your dark shadow...I shall haunt you without mercy.
Though you won't see me, I will be there. I will be the cold breath on the back of your
neck...the sense of impending doom that pushes down on you. When you hear a noise in a
dark room, it will be me, crouching in the corner with claws out, watching you in your
trepidation, whispering your vile name...I will be the chill crawling down your wretched
spine...the catch in your throat when you can't breathe and I breathe anew...
I will be all of these things for you, Rita...this is the least I can do to repay you.
Tell the children what you will about their father...the painful truth will be reflected
back to you every time you look into their confused, mournful eyes...when they stare off
and you try to catch their tears, oblivious to the waves of sorrow inside. Your victory
will become the wolf disrobed of the sheep's clothing. I will be the puppeteer of your
remorseful conscience, as it wraps it's hands around your gargoyle throat and ever so
slowly, takes your life.
Though my thoughts became my fantasies, I never had your murderous resolve. Tell everyone,
tell the children that you never wanted to keep them from me, that I could come by
anytime, like you always said after months of painfully endured reality...no one will ever
believe you. Everyone knows, Rita...especially the children. Pray for my words to unetch
themselves from the forefront of your demented mind...still I will dangle them in the
background. Our beautiful children, your little pawns, your poker chips with a
pulse...will come to truly know their mother.
So enjoy your foul, pyhrric victory...these six feet of cold earth matter not...the grasp
I have on you now is surpassed only by my reach, and like an unwelcome guest at your door,
I will be the puppeteer of your painfully reflective conscience...I will haunt you forever
in the darkness.
Form:
There was a poetry slam the Sunday after 9/11/01..my whatever she still is to me,
….she said “well free, did you write something about 9/11. She’s a very good poet
as well, so I responded by saying, “Why, did you?” my she whatever replied, “of
course I did” and that’s precisely whey I didn’t. Because it is not Mother’s Day yet,
I’ll share this, it’s very personal, but I hope you can all relate
ALWAYS AN ALLY IN ALL WAYS
Oh God, I’ll miss her laughter
Forever after
Oh Lord, I’ll miss her smile
Mile after mile
There are no words deep enough or powerful enough to describe this anguish
The severity of my sentimental remorse and recollections of her cooking in the
kitchen
Remorse because of every time I went off course
Led astray because I did not heed what Mother had to say
And now she’s being spirited away
To a place so many religions argue about
While I remain awash in doubt
Right now, in this microcosm of a minute how is she feeling and what is she seeing?
Are angels like her urging my Mom to fly?
Is she seeing stars that aren’t really in the sky?
This anguish is too burdensome for a weak man such as myself to defy
And a pain my consistent tears cannot deny
As she sleeps
Or sleeps not
According to this, the Lord’s most pain laden plot
DaIly I am awakened by the realization that she may not be that which means so
much to me
And arise to an ache so piercingly too persistent to conjugate into words
Mom’s quite old and admittedly this should have been expected
But perhaps that’s a fact I’ve intentionally neglected
Because she remains so beautiful to me
Always was
always shall be
IF ONLY IN THE MIDDLE OF A MEMORY
Oh God to keep her spirit there
In my grin made so obviously clear
To soothe a son’s ample and every fear
Oh to keep my beautiful mom right here
© 2011.…Jeffry Cohan (Rita Cohan’s son)((mom wouldn’t mind if I used the name
she would never call me, free cee!))
NO MATTER HOW BADLY I HAD SCREWED UP,
ONCE AGAIN, MY MOM’S FRONT DOOR AND
HEART WERE ALWAYS OPENED FOR ME.
Mrs. Stanley J. Cohan
Always my strength
Always an ally
love is a book
sex is sport
sex is choice
Love is luck
Love is notion, theorem
love is melodrama
sex is cinema
Sex is imagination, fantasy
love is prose
sex is poetry
Love turn us
pathetic
Sex makes us
as if LIVING in a jungle
of epileptics...
Love is christian
sex is pagan.
Love is latifundia
sex is invasion...
Love is divine
sex is animal,
love is bossa nova
sex is carnival...
Love is forever
sex too,
sex is for health
Love is from wealth...
Love without sex
is just friendship
sex without love
is just will, sexualship
love is one
sex is two
sex before
love after...
Sex comes from others
and walk away
love comes from us
and remains
love is christian
sex is pagan
Love is latifundia
sex is invasion
Love is divine
sex is animal
Love is bossa nova
sex is carnival
love is it
sex is that
And stuff and thing
and such and thing
oh love
hmm sex... !
Rita Lee Jones de Carvalho
12.31.47
05.08.2023
interactive translation BY Alkas poetry
original in portuguese Arnaldp Jabor
father North American, mother italian-brasilian
lirics in portuguese
Amor é um livro
Sexo é esporte
Sexo é escolha
Amor é sorte
Amor é pensamento, teorema
Amor é novela
Sexo é cinema
Sexo é imaginação, fantasia
Amor é prosa
Sexo é poesia
O amor nos torna patéticos
Sexo é uma selva de epiléticos
Amor é cristão
Sexo é pagão
Amor é latifúndio
Sexo é invasão
Amor é divino
Sexo é animal
Amor é bossa nova
Sexo é carnaval
Amor é para sempre
Sexo também
Sexo é do bom
Amor é do bem
Amor sem sexo
É amizade
Sexo sem amor
É vontade
Amor é um
Sexo é dois
Sexo antes
Amor depois
Sexo vem dos outros
E vai embora
Amor vem de nós
E demora
Amor é cristão
Sexo é pagão
Amor é latifúndio
Sexo é invasão
Amor é divino
Sexo é animal
Amor é bossa nova
Sexo é carnaval
Amor é isso
Sexo é aquilo
E coisa e tal
E tal e coisa
Ai o amor
Hmm o sexo, ahh
Lirics in portuguese
Arnaldo Jabor
SEARCH THE song in you tube
PS RITA LEE
FATHER american
MOTHER ITALIAN BRASILIAN
Welcome to Shamukuni Street,
Where the city breathes in vibrant chaos,
Police sirens whirling,
A symphony of urgency and defiance—
Each wail a reminder,
That life here never sleeps,
And neither do we.
Every household boasts a loudspeaker,
Its voice a pulse,
A rhythm echoing through the cracked pavement,
Where laughter and music collide,
Like potluck dinners on a Friday night,
Where stories spill over, and dreams take flight.
The shabeens stand tall, defiant against the clock,
Never closing, they’re the heartbeat of the night,
Where shadows dance and secrets weave,
Where we sip on life, one drink at a time,
Celebrating the neon glow of the ordinary,
Reveling in the magic of the mundane.
Some say this street is dangerous,
But we wear it like a badge,
Our skin thickened by tales untold,
And we who grew up here—
We embrace it, with open arms,
For its embroidery rich in color,
Woven with threads of resilience.
This is where I met Joe Luda,
Our dreams igniting like firecrackers,
The spark that launched our rap journey,
Words tumbling from our lips,
Like confetti in the wind,
Mixing with the echoes of the street,
The backdrop of our youth,
The very air charged with possibility.
This is where the Mafia Zone was birthed,
Not just a name,
But a legacy, a gathering of souls
United by the pulse of the street,
The rhythm of survival,
The melody of belonging.
Here, I found Pekka, his laughter a flare in the night,
Chis Jay, with verses sharper than glass,
And Rita Christopher, her voice a siren call—
Together we stitched our dreams
Into the fabric of this place,
Each beat a testament to our roots,
Each rhyme a promise to rise.
So welcome to Shamukuni Street,
Where danger is just another word for adventure,
Where every corner hides a story,
Every face a familiar friend—
We live, we love, and we laugh,
And in this cacophony of life,
We find our symphony,
Our home,
Our forever.
Form:
YOU CAN GIVE YOUR BEST
Today’s stench in today’s society
Today’s filth in today’s leaders
Today’s corruption in today’s nation
Are the ill-results of yesterday’s ill-attention
Fathers, Mothers, Guardians and Teachers
Invest in today’s kids your fishes
From the seas of wisdom and knowledge
For they will soon be your treasure
In that great and glorious future
Instruct them to fear God
Teach them to detest drugs
Encourage them with your love
And preach to them moral excellence the more
For a child who is well brought up
Will make a nation well built up
Young treasures of the glorious future
Do not treasure any negative pressure
Resist, refuse and reject all attempts
Less you fashion a mere nation for your generation
Be a well of truth
Build a world of honesty
Show the fruit of piety
It’s a mark of integrity
Be a man of accountability
And a woman of transparency
Let your records score your ability
And let the books show that you are good
For when there’s fire on the mountain
They become your extinguishers like the fountain
Let justice reign
Let fairplay rain
For equality/equity
Is a laudable quality
In any qualitative society
Embrace the rule of law
For it is made for all
Don’t release a Barabbas and imprison a Jesus
Because to be above the law
Is to be above the lord
Do the right thing at the right time
Avoid short cuts that cuts short
Make your hay while the sun shines
Make your stitch in time
And save nine
Tread the extra mile
And paint others with a smile
Attend to what others ignore
By doing the work like they’ve never done it before
Don’t join in shedding blood
Just to get to Aso Rock
Play according to the rules
And be ready to accept gallantly
Victory or defeat
Exchange hands of fellowship with non-victors of today
For most winners of today were losers just yesterday
Don’t be seen behind the scene
And don’t hide
Because your country is your bride
Drive her pride
Sell her wares
And be spent for her defence.
By not sitting on the fence,
You can give your best
Omebe Rita
today when we went to visit you
we saw a little leprachaun visiting with you
He was there at the gravesite sitting with you
he greeted us so happily
" so very pleased to meet you "
he had just completed a journey through a rainbow
and this was where it came to end
the meeting place of such a beautiful angel
who now is this leprachauns very dear friend
which is far more valuable than a pot of gold
He said . . . ." I've traveled to the end of many rainbows
at its end , many riches to behold
but never have I found such a special love and beautiful angel "
"thank you , with all our hearts and souls we love our beautiful little angel "
is what this leprachaun was told
To have him as a part of our life our family we are thankful
he is so very special,
he is OUR pot of gold
he said. . ." yes this , I see
discovering it was a pleasure for me
you ought to consider yourself very very lucky . . . .
in fact even luckier than me . . . .
I tell you that rainbow , by far was the longest journey
but the best journey for me . . .
and it makes me very happy to see
that the truest beautiful treasures
at rainbows endings they be "
He shook my hand to congratulate me
my heart felt warm immediately
and I smiled at the leprachaun looking up at me
then that little leprechaun said to me
"it's a pleasure meeting grama RITA and baby FRANKIE . . . .
I must run along now , your so very lucky
to have known your beautiful angel s
who I got to meet at the end of this rainbow
they are good dear friend s who now I know . . . .
that I'm glad to now know . . . .
I've found my luck and now I must go
to find , to chase another rainbow
oh wait and by the way ,
One more thing I must say
to you and your family . . .
do have a HAPPY HAPPY st Patrick's day
and do remember your luck not just today but EVERYDAY
to you this I say
. . . . once more. . . .
HAPPY ST PATRICKS DAY
Even should a mother forget
but she cannot
but even if she could
God has sent His mother
to hold the bloodied limbs
in her arms
just as she held God’s humanity
in the folds of her dress
when all had been done.
Her altar of flesh
prepared His Body to rise.
She is there, too,
in the darkened room
where millions of mothers
are crying or trying to forget
or feeling the weight of life
left, gone—regretful or not,
God’s Mother is there
just the same
piecing together
the most bewildering puzzle—
Why?
She cries and remembers
the nails
the spear
the sword,
the pressure
the fear
the force
all for dismemberment.
But it is not the end.
Holding severed flesh
on her lap
in the folds of her dress
she prepares her children
to rise.
But what comes before
is freedom’s forgotten side,
the hidden part
the place we’re not allowed to see
or think about too long.
What would it be like
if our minds could comprehend
the choice placed in our lives—
the tiny seed we could nourish or not?
What would it be like
if we really understood
this freedom to accept or not:
Everyone!
Pro-life, pro-choice, nonaligned!
What would it be like
if we all understood
the freedom that we have
every second of the day
to build or destroy
to speak or be silent
to accept or reject
to say “I” in the face of given-ness.
What choice do we make?
Or do we simply not choose,
let others decide
the fate of our own flesh and blood
and “I”
Will we say:
I didn’t really want to, but…?
Killed our own selves
abandoned our will
left it to die
alone
on the side of the road.
Our own self dismembered
acting against its soul.
But God’s image will not be erased
though the dismembered member
of the human race
is killed by its own.
Maternity waits
and holds our freedom
in the folds of her dress.
The choice has been made.
We can say “no” or “yes.”
Rita A. Simmonds
January 23, 2019
Go ahead, try to separate the races.
You politicians have egg, on your malicious faces.
Not realizing in your frozen hearts.
You toss imperfect, very hopeless darts.
Neither money nor educatiion
Can separate friends of the American nation.
Equity for Blacks only, you shout from your parapets.
ThatWill never separate us, not one bit.
So you fund hate groups to form derision,
Amongst hearts who have made, no such decision.
You paint whites as Nazis, blacks as slaves?
You think we are animals or morons, you hopeless knaves!
We have friends of all colors and religions.
But you go on fake news, as dense as pigeons.
You do all in your power to make this beautiful world dour.
You shout, “The world is ending by the hour?”
Filling us with fear, like climate change,
The ozone layer went up one percent, but not to Al Gore and his gang.
Whites mucking about, pretending they are Black?
It sickens me, Caucasians,it’s a racial attack.
Equity, as if, this were even ever possible.
We of all colors, think you are miserable.
So twenty years ago, I found a Black sister online.
Living in the hood, with loving heart that really shines!
She’s problems with sleep, as bullets fly about all night.
Seven hundred and thirty five, died in that city alone last year, what a fright!
DC bigwigs avoid the Hood like the Plague.
Yet demand Democrats vote for Blacks alone, don’t dare turn the page.
They tell them freedom is food stamps and a free phone?
It is such a lie, it makes me gasp and groan.,
Keeping the Blacks forever, on othe Plantation Nation!
You, while they are killed in the Hood, fly to Davos on vacation.
Dedicated to my Sistah of another mother!
Like you, Blessed Rita , there is no other!
With love,
Sistah Pangie
1/23/2023
AntiPoem 31 “Rita Montero”
(Poet’s instruction: Kindly play “Ay, Mama Inez”
by Rita Montero while reading this AntiPoem)
a red trolley finds Ebbets Field behind a pigtown ditch
significant hotdogs and burnt singles melt into the pitch
Jackie Robinson squares off with an ash tree riding the sky
the flag of our fathers dancing in center field poised to fly
“honey, I hope you like these seats here in the bleachers
you can see Bedford on the phone looking for preachers
an endless parade of white-walled tires scurrying on by
can you smell the Nathan’s dogs downstairs on hot rye
let us hurry hence dear, before this inning comes to an end
and our Jackie Robinson comes barreling up to bat again”
“Una mujer negra se asoma en el teatro de Buenos Aires”
Argentine goddess with roots in the dark seeping prairies
musically squeezes the brass ring as the black cloud dries
“Rita Montero, you are as lovely as your sweet empanada pies
your wonderful sidewalks through gardens of lapacho trumpets
please come sit with me here, to talk and to eat these crumpets
to speak of your forever glissandos and sad asado whispers
your electric shadows finding humble graces at vespers
retrieving lost spaces from opera teachers and stupid men
to step forward again with singing eyes and a ballpoint pen
Rompiste la puerta blanca maloliente!”
please Rita meet me in Córdoba next wednesday”
she sits in her bleacher seat with a Nathan’s dog on hot rye
“honey, I hope we can see Jackie Robinson hit a deep fly
high up into the airy Brooklyn blue arching yet over Bedford
the democrats in section seven will applaud the proud leopard
Rita Montero, I can see her in the grandstand behind Shotton
she is giving absolution for all the skin sins now long forgotten
let us hurry hence dear, before this inning comes to an end
and our Jackie Robinson comes barreling up to bat again”
In this age of 'Instant Karma' happiness is turned away,
'All you need is love' to guide you well at least that's what they say,
'In my life' I've witnessed miracles the ghost of 'Yesterday',
When a certain 'Sgt Pepper' tried to teach the band to play.
Back then 'Lucy' wore her diamonds to the big top on the green,
With her uncle 'Mr Mustard' who was tight and very mean,
Next to them was 'Mother Mary', 'Sister Pam' and 'Mr Kite',
And a psychopath called 'Maxwell who was hidden out of sight.
'Rita' made it in the city said 'Tomorrow never knows',
Made a deal with 'Doctor Robert' who was struck off years ago,
Sent a message to the 'Taxman' saying that he shouldn't come,
While the 'Nowhere Man' was chanting 'Come together' everyone.
Down in 'Strawberry Fields' they're singing and they're sing forever more,
'Rocky Racoon's' busy selling Gideon's bibles door to door,
'Jo-jo's' busy rolling reefers for the roadies in the band,
Thought 'Loretta' was a woman but she was another man.
The sixties have now vanished 'Egg-men' are no longer found,
'Sexy Sadie's' on a hillside on the other side of town,
'Bill' has married his 'Dear Prudence' brought themselves a bungalow,
Now they're playing Beatles records they brought 'All those years ago'.
Can't imagine all the hardships poor Ms Rigby' would endure,
Lived a lonely sad existence had a death so immature,
'Michelle' gently placed the 'Flowers in the dirt' and quoted Paul,
Saying that he won't forget her when his 'Memory's almost full'.
'Molly's' still with pretty 'Desmond' sharing all her jewels and clothes,
'Desmond' has a host of bookings now transgender is in vogue,
Poor 'McKenzie's' lost his calling they defrocked him in the spring,
What a joy and what a blessing to hear all the Beatles sing