Long Rivera Poems
Long Rivera Poems. Below are the most popular long Rivera by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rivera poems by poem length and keyword.
Preface:
Earlier today May 28th, 2021,
the 12-member jury unanimously
found Cristhian Bahena Rivera guilty
of first-degree murder in brutal stabbing death
sentenced to life in prison
without the possibility of parole
of Mollie Tibbetts remembered as then friendly
20-year-old who was studying
to become a child psychologist.
IOWA CITY, Iowa
(killingly, jarringly inexplicable,
horribly, gruesomely, and forlornly),
the body found July 18, 2018,
an exhumed decayed corpse
belonging to young
vibrant coed twenty year old
college student Mollie Tibbetts.
Impossible mission to deduce
senseless killing of innocent babe
wild speculation perchance
spurned, snubbed,or scorned
love seriously gone wrong,
she who disappeared
from her small hometown
in central Iowa sad swan song
now plays, where every
last drop of sorrow rung,
now weeping family, friends,
relatives, et cetera subjected wrack
with lifelong emotional pain,
which searing inescapable
grief twill unrelentingly track
ferociously, fiercely, and figuratively,
doth disallow recourse
to duck away
from heart wrenching quack
king unbearably, terribly, and scathingly
will fully bill leave ably
beak homing a folly,
mockery, and travesty,
sans time heals
all wounds (truly "FAKE"),
nonetheless psyche riving tragic
(irrevocable loss) doth pack.
Grievous punch greater then any
all star olympic pugilist
straight to the ab
domain of opponent, where
rumor mongers mill and blab
how this, that, or
another potential suspect,...
whence tissues dab
corners of crying eyes,
an endless stream
of tears merge with gab
bullying utter disbelief.
Family/friends question
the supposed almighty
at devastating loss
to do nothing but bawl (at Baal)
into the fox sized rabbit hole
trying with futility
to block (even crawl
ling into every
rabbit hole) no bastion
against implacable
maddening crowded
house alive with murderous frenzy,
and a dialect (non
tickling) gentle Iowan drawl.
Third anniversary regarding
asper the impossibly steep toll
the purposelessness killing,
aforementioned deceased
affected sodden wet soul
cannot process any (defying) logic,
a foregone lovely gal (same age
as my youngest daughter),
whose missed presence,
(albeit said slain lass
Mollie Tibbetts – permanent absence),
now created an expansive
infinite black sink hole.
Where would I live if I were richest, and had all the money in the world?
Outside the square box, where no doors exist, and locks will never block
My entrance or exit, without four walls or framed bricked structure this
Is where I’d live and do now!
Again I’m asked where this address is, what fancy abode or country,
This location the French Rivera, or maybe even the city of romance Paris?
Nope none of these places will do for the likes of me, my substance
Is worth more than glitz’s and glamour allow, after all am I not
The richest person in the world?
I live within the valley of the thunder storms heartbeat, where flesh
And bone melt together as one unit, here passions lightning collide
Against the rocky torrent of desires epic flame,
Never to be extinguished or dowsed, by emotions ocean of doubt
Or regret!
But again these outsiders ask me once more but where, we’d like
To know, for we’ve never heard of such a place, give us the answer
To this riddle of yours Madame, for you are the richest person on
Earth the world must have the answer, as the paparazzi flash
Their gossiping, chattering, Cameras!
But these hungry mongers will never know the truth of the matter
At hand, for they’ve never experienced truth wealth of feeling,
Or valued anything but the almighty dollars golden card, of worthlessness!
Oh what an empty world, do these poor souls exist upon, a baron plain of
Dancing dollar signs, where false illusions seem real or tangible to the
Touch, but in reality are delusions images melting away, as time fades
The fame to the beauty factor unto nothing remains at all!
Nay I’m here in reality’s penthouse on high, beyond the fake staining of the
Smoke and mirrors game being played below, in this devotional residence
Without numbers!
For again the question was and is where would I live, if I had all the money
In the world, I’d live within the heart of this man whom dwells beside me,
He who’s sacrificed all for me, loved me always through thick and thin,
My shoulder of endurance and tenderness!
For what is true wealth my friend, but love itself my world begins
As his eyes open in the morning light, and ends when his close at night’s
Final twilight hour, where do I live within this man whom loves me!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
NOVEMBER 11, 2015
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BABY OF 55 THOMAS
I cannot forget Trayvon Martin - slain teen
no matter manifold more young people
unthinkingly killed, who spirits aspire
to ascend higher than a steeple.
revisited and slightly revised today
March 14th, 2021.
One deliberate shameful death,
whose demise linkedin
violent cessation of breath
thank heavy gun wielding hand
innocuous thug disguised
as armed neighborhood watch
firearm brandished
as weapon of choice.
Once again rifling thru outdated drafts,
I unwittingly repost grievous bulletin
that made headlines nine plus years ago,
an innocent lad received fatal shot
into said unarmed teenager's chest
according to testimony
courtesy Doctor Vincent Di Maio.
Memory of aforementioned crime
relegated to dustbin of criminal minds
whereby dime a dozen killings
(nowadays barely register shock)
countless young persons
genetically bequeathed with
healthy dose of melanin
gunned down during their prime.
George Zimmerman (then age 28)
ought to be pitched into the
alligator and crocodile infested Everglade
for his senseless killing (outright murder)
of Trayvon Martin slammed
as involved some illicit wick kid trade
(a slender African American
more precisely youth flush with color
only 17 years young -
(birthdate - February 5th, 1995
death date - February 26th, 2012),
whose martyrdom grows
as days/weeks fade
an exemplary gregarious helpmate
swimming against the tide
to make the grade
now slain while just a youth -
the unfounded killing
by a neighborhood watch volunteer,
who felt afraid
that this dark skinned young man
appeared suspicious pulled the trigger
with comeuppance to be paid
though -- no retribution can restore
lifeless body, still
agitated waters nor offer shade
from the justifiable media frenzy
sparked from Geraldo Rivera made
even with unanimous
approval of guillotine blade
for violence cannot only rejuvenate
a promising future
evinced by Trayvon Martin
reincarnated into tree or leaf blade
but only serves to beget subsequent
violence now unto his grave
said teenager laid!
I have attempted to capture my favorite major league baseball players in this little shape poem of home plate. Included are (in no particular order):
Say Hey Willie Mays Walter Johnson (Big Train)
Randy Johnson (The Big Unit) Babe Ruth (The Sultan Of Swat)
Tony Gwynn Jimmie Foxx
Ted Williams Maury Wills
Stan “The Man” Musial Johnny Bench
Ken Griffey Jr Greg Maddox
Henry Aaron Lou Gehrig
Roberto Clemente Ty Cobb
Satchell Paige Ernie Banks
Rickey Henderson Carl Yastrzemski (Yaz)
Trevor Hoffman Albert Pujols
Gibson (Bob and Josh) Honus Wagner
Rogers Hornsby Cal Ripken
Robinson (Jackie, Frank and Brooks)
Some favorites I had to leave out…
Christy Mathewson Warren Spahn
Sandy Koufax Tom Seaver
Mickey Mantle Rod Carew
Joe Morgan Ozzie Smith
Mariano Rivera Miguel Cabrera
Pedro Martinez Ichiro Suzuki
David Ortiz Jose Altuve
I’d love to see your faves mentioned in the comments section!
written 24 Aug 2020
Diego Rivera’s Flower Carrier
My load to carry is backbreaking,
But this I must do to feed my family.
Down on all fours on the ground, I pray
For fairness in barter and my safe return home
From this capitalist enterprise I am engaging in.
My basket is laden to overflowing the brim
With the most beautiful flowers in all the land.
My woman helps me to my feet to begin
The journey to the mercado to sell our flores.
She, too, is strong like me, with strong hands.
Together, for survival and comfort in this life,
We labour, leaning on each other as a pillar
Through the impending toils of daily grind.
In quiet rectitude, we are satisfied knowing
That our Lord and Saviour Jesucristo will provide.
We pick the flowers at their peak
When the colours are their brightest
And their scents are the most invigorating.
One by one, we gently lay them
In the cesta de mimbre.
With every step and breath I take,
Their fragrances fill my nostrils,
And the unbearable becomes bearable,
Bringing relief to my aching back
And sandal-shodden feet.
How can I ask for more?
When I return, the joy on my family’s faces
For the money received from the sale
Provides the strength I require
To do this task over and over again
Until I am departed.
***
Notes:
“Diego Rivera’s Flower Carrier” is an ekphrastic poem based on the painting "The Flower Carrier" (1935) by Diego Rivera (1886–1957).
mercado: market
flores: flowers
Jesucristo: Jesus Christ
cesta de mimbre: wicker basket.
Help needed? Go fry none available here.
Even if you are very ill and disabled we do not care.
Look all we care about is your money!!
Loot to the bank for us, always another sucker down the road.
Help? What is that? We do not know what you are on about.
Of course we can send people to your villa to sort things out.
Let us take care of it they are on their way right now.
I and mum speak to two housekeepers dressed in aprons
Dear me they say we can not come in we can not deal with body fluids.
And off they go leaving a 87 year old lady to turn mattress and re-make bed.
Yes really. My cousin and his wife arrived and sorted things out.
All come here to stay we really do care
This is just a blip, oh you are upset? I do not understand why! (manager)
Please I think we did all we could. Really? how come you did sweet FA!!!
Everybody here is always happy. Few ever complain.
Really, only four separate people complained because you did not remove bags!!
Requested us to leave on porch for collection that was over 24 hours coming.
And this after I gave you a second chance after our disaster holiday in March.
Never again will I cross your threshold I have had it with you.
Such clavier treatment can not be ignored
All be warned by our experience and avoid Perran Sands in Cornwall
Next time I will go to Rivera Sands at Hayle they were wonderful to us.
Dear people in reception there bought me a bottle of wine for my birthday
So heed my warning and stay well clear or else you will regret your stay.
153 Street Station is clean
Down sturdy metal steps through
old Yankee Stadium field
where Ruth and Gehrig ran.
Pungent in the nostrils piss follows me
Up the hill where supers sweep trash
from yesterday’s deals and conferences
Broom bucket hose black bags.
Mothers pull young children to school
Their Diego Rivera faces
Chisled by want from old world stone
Set in the new world promise.
Adamantine trek no stopping
Climbing past the fortress courthouse
Crowded Social Service building # 145 (meth clinic)
Halal vendors hawking pastries
A lady with a cell to her ear in the lime green tracksuit shouts:
“What the **** is he to me?
If I can do what he do why do I need him to do what he do?”
Two young Black men in braids, swaying gold,
Pants down low wide-striding in step as they go,
“ Nigga says I got to stand a long time in that line. Whose line?
That’s his line not my line.
I ain’t standin’ in no long line”.
“Word”.
Crossing to the bodega on Morris Ave
where mi amor Juana takes my dollar twenty five
for the Schweppes Lemon-Lime
brushing by the bacon-egg-and-cheese-kids
pigeons pecking dirt
Up three flights to room 322 where
Students ask for pencils
while they tinker with the hardware on the windows.
Jenni Rivera was her name. She came from a family
of singers. She was born in California. She came
from humble beginings. She was a young woman,
that reached stardom, fame and fortune, beauty
she already had.
She was a self made star. She started to get known
in 1993. She reached fame, because of her talent.
her songs were known everywhere. A lot of women
could identify with her.
Jenni had a lot of tribulations in her life, just like a
lot of us do, but she over came them, with her head
high. She never forgot who she was, or where she
came from. She would always take her kids to the
place where they lived, when they were little.
On December the 9th of 2012, she was in a plane
in Mexico with her crew to appear in another Concert
the next day. She never made it. The plane exploded
in mid air. For her family - it was devastating, for her
fans - it was a shock.
Jenni was a hard working young woman, that loved
her kids, her family and of course her fans, her people,
La RAZA, as she called us. On that fateful day, they
had a meeting that they couldn't miss. God had called
them home. Goodbye Jenni, through your songs - you
will live forever...
Written by Lucilla M. Carrillo
01/20/2012
Who’s pitching tonight?
Him? – Oh he’ll do alright
His curveball’s so tight
Yankee Fan
Be it Clemens, Mussina or Meyers
Pettitte, Rivera, Villone
He’s willing to bet on his pitcher
Especially if pitching at home
Jeater – now he’s really something
And A Rod – no equal is found
They cover the left in the infield
And Boy! How they cover that ground
Who’s pitching tonight?
Him? – Oh he’ll do alright
His fastball is so out of sight
Yankee Fan
Pin stripes are high fashion to him
Even fat guys look kind of slim
With the pants ending just at shin
In fashion they always win
He’s been in the House that Ruth Built
He’d sit there though heat made him wilt
He’s loyal without any guilt
He’s Yankee clean up to the hilt
Team roster? He knows every man
The batboy? He’ll name him – he can
This isn’t some fair weather fan
George Steinbrenner – yea – He’s da man
Who’s pitching tonight?
Him? – Oh he’ll do alright
His slider is simply a fright
Yankee Fan
Sure there’s work to be done by this evening
There are papers to read and to write
And it’s early but still he is leaving
The Yankees are playing tonight!
Who’s pitching today?
Doesn’t matter – no way
Yanks are playing hooray!
Yankee Fan!
You brighten my day
Showin' me my direction
You're comin' to me
And givin' me inspiration
How can i ask for more
From you my dear
Maybe just a smile in your
(maybe just a smile in your heart)
You brighten my day
Showin' me my direction
You're comin' to me
And givin' me inspiration
How can i ask for more
From you my dear
Maybe just a smile in your heart
Give me a smile in your heart.
Okay ito na to, yung conclusion, hehe. Adik lang ako noh? Kung anu-ano pa yung naiisip ko.. kung dati, pasmile-smile, tapos pakilig-kilig, ano kaya susunod? ? One thing’s for sure, MAY UNDERSTANDING NA TAYO. ? Kung ano man label natin, MASAYA TAYO. ? Thank you, bigla kang dumating sa buhay ng churang ito, hindi man natin pinagplanuhan, siguro si GOD na ang nagdikta.. ? sana maiintindihan pa natin lalo yung isa’t-isa. Dalawa tayo sa relasyong to. Marami na tayong napagdaanan, at marami pang dadating. Kaya nating dalawa to. ? Aayusin natin. ? Thank you michurz ko. ? mwah* *hugs* I AM VERY PROUD OF YOU!!
PS: This is a song by Ariel Rivera. I just quoted this. This is not my piece. thanks.