Long Rucker Poems
Long Rucker Poems. Below are the most popular long Rucker by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rucker poems by poem length and keyword.
No free version
A free verse
And a free speech
Hunger violates the norm
Behavior is a free will
Commerce obstructed is conjecture
A high court or otherwise assembled congressional hearing is caused for speech
A matter of hunger mustn't prevail as wage
In Irish when it is said by another
"I'm gonna need you to move"
The past tensing of need, nee'd
Is speculation on the appearance of the marketplace
In honest appreciation
The Crawford and Larabee families of America
And the thunder rolls
No mas comida
No mas mujeres
Mas gumballs
Go build the basilica
Benito arrives!
The American Elegant
I no afford the civilized
Lost City of Rucker
polish outside
royce, he hide a boy, called him sunshine
he so starch on the collar
he don't appreciate the cloth
till the potato off it again
stingiest thing ever, hold langstons typewriter
ima go shuffle it again for yu ryan, danial, ward the spirit
pop lost the address,
in his toe winkle, he had it
how this the rhyme?
the partner upstairs
cant see me
i do it this un?
the girls the stowaway fortune
beneath the slavery laws?
its the first time california girl not a bikini
girls, the womens rights is 60 year old league of dont care
Hybrid babble tap it chan
Jackie!
Jackie?
News instructions coming back
Huh? From your special where?
Here
Copyright © kevin mathenia | Year Posted 2025
I’m the heartbeat of salsa, the rhythm of the conga,
Where Tito Puente’s spirit still dances on Third Avenue.
My murals speak louder than words—
Che Guevara, Celia Cruz, and the Spirit of East Harlem
Painted on every wall, telling stories of pride.
El Museo del Barrio stands tall,
A testament to our Latinx heritage,
While La Marqueta bustles with flavors of the island.
Oh, you think you’ve got the soul?
I birthed the Harlem Renaissance,
Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston walked my streets.
The Apollo Theater echoes with the voices of legends,
And Rucker Park? It’s where streetball met the NBA.
My brownstones whisper tales of Strivers’ Row,
And Marcus Garvey Park stands as a monument to our history.
But have you seen my festivals?
The Puerto Rican Day Parade lights up 116th,
A sea of flags and music filling the air.
My bodegas hum with reggaeton beats,
And the scent of arroz con gandules wafts through the streets.
We honor our roots with pride and passion,
A community united by rhythm and tradition.
I’ve got my own rhythm, my own flair,
From the sounds of jazz to the gospel in the air.
Sylvia’s serves up soul food with a side of history,
And the Studio Museum showcases Black artistry.
My streets are lined with stories of resilience and grace,
A tapestry woven with every face.
True, our paths have crossed and intertwined,
But our spirits remain distinct, uniquely defined.
El Barrio pulses with a Latin beat,
While Harlem’s heart echoes with African roots beneath.
Together, we form a mosaic so grand,
A testament to the cultures that built this land.
There was a mentor and a mentee.
A devoted teacher and his disciple.
Mr. Rucker was a loving master, and
Kenny was a very submissive student.
The mentor was 55, and the mentee
was 15 when they met. They were
a 'match made-in-heaven'.
This bond was broken after 5 years
because the mentor contracted cancer with
a very dire prognostication. Kenny was able
to visit with Mr. Rucker for about 6 months.
He died 6 months after Kenny's last visit.
Kenny never found another teacher to replace
the one with whom he so greatly benefited.
On a very windy day, Mr. Rucker spent a couple
of hours on the banks of the river in their
town. While there, before his demise, he thought
it well for him to release the 'Bond Card" TO THE
WIND as he thought about his student Kenny.
The 'Bond Card' was created and shared between them;
something in hand identifying their personal bond.
This bond was set long before the tutor and cancer
met. On one side of the card were 9 words from mentor
to mentee. "Be the you for whom there is no substitute".
On the other side were 10 words to be repeated by the
mentee to himself every day. "I am the me for whom
there is no substitute".
Long after Mr. Tucker's demise, Kenny would often pull
out his 'Bond Card' and lift it TO THE WIND IN THE SKY.
As he held the card tightly in his right hand, he touched his
heart with his left hand. Remembering the words on the
'Bond Card' that Mr. Rucker taught him to say, Kenny,
with tears in his eyes, would say, "I am the me for
whom there is no substitute".
102722PSCtest, A Note In The Wind. Charles Messina. 2P
Memorial Day
Kevin Davis 2026
A Tribute to Warrant Officer Don — Friend, Remembered
Don was born in Moline, Illinois on June 9, 1950, the son of Donald and Leone, and brother to Sharon, Margaret, and Lawrence. His childhood unfolded first in the Peoria area, where he and his siblings grew up in the rhythms of Midwestern life. At seventeen, he moved with his family to New Lenox, Illinois, finishing high school at Lincoln-Way Central — a young man already carrying the quiet steadiness that others would come to rely on.
After graduation, Don chose a path of service. He entered the U.S. Army to become a combat helicopter pilot, training first at Fort Wolters in Texas and then at Fort Rucker in Alabama. There he earned his place as a Warrant Officer and took his seat in the aircraft that would define his calling — the UH-1H Huey.
After a brief return home, Don deployed to the Republic of South Vietnam. He arrived on March 3, 1970, assigned to B Troop, 7th Squadron, 1st Cavalry, part of the 1st Aviation Brigade. He was twenty years old.
On May 25, 1970 — Memorial Day — Don was serving as the pilot in the right seat of a Command and Control helicopter near Nui Coto Mountain, south of Chi Lang in the Mekong Delta. Fifty-five days into his tour, a single .51 caliber round pierced the right door, penetrated the armor, and took his life. He died doing the work he had trained for, in service to his crew, his unit, and his country.
He was brought home to Swan Lake Memory Gardens in Peoria, Illinois, where his family laid him to rest.
Today, Don’s name is engraved on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C., Panel 10W, Line 98 — a permanent place among those who gave everything.
But beyond the wall, beyond the dates, beyond the uniform, Don is remembered because you remember him. Because he was your friend. Because the people who knew him carry his story forward. Because a life lived with courage and loyalty leaves a mark that time cannot erase.
This is how he stays alive in the world — through memory, through honor, through the love of those who still speak his name.
polish outside
royce, he hide a boy, called him sunshine
he so starch on the collar
he don't appreciate the cloth
till the potato off it again
stingiest thing ever, hold langstons typewriter
ima go shuffle it again for yu ryan, danial, ward the spirit
pop lost the address,
in his toe winkle, he had it
how this the rhyme?
the partner upstairs
cant see me
i do it this un?
the girls the stowaway fortune
beneath the slavery laws?
its the first time california girl not a bikini
girls, the womens rights is 60 year old league of dont care
Hybrid babble tap it chan
Jackie!
Jackie?
News instructions coming back
Huh? From your special where?
Here