Long Sarongs Poems
Long Sarongs Poems. Below are the most popular long Sarongs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sarongs poems by poem length and keyword.
We the People
Will disagree
On taxation and prosperity
On liberty and duty
We the People
Are every color of Christianity
Every Jewish prayer, every song of Islam
The puritans, the atheists and the Amish
Are neighbors here
We the People
Are Jamaican and Japanese
Swedish and Samoan
Cuban and Cherokee
Moroccan and Mexican
The Irish and the Inuit
And all shades of Africa
We are country hills and cityscapes
Suburban parks and downtown fire escapes
We are singers and stutterers
Daredevils and diplomats
Renegades and redeemers
The leaders and the lone wolves
The suits and the sarongs
We are the gun owners for gun control
The justice for unjust loopholes
We are the hands that struck the iron
And the backs that laid the tracks
Of trails of rails connecting
Sea to shining Sea
We are protesters and poets
The soldiers without peace
The nurses without sleep
We are the straight arrows and the skeptics
The gay and the god-fearing
We are Black Lives Matter
And we are the badges in blue
We the People
Are complicit and complicated
No freedom gave
To chains of slaves
We have conquered and colonized
Sacrificed and stolen
Pillaged and planted
To naturalize a nation
We are teachers of tenacity
Prophicies of pioneers
And the children of second chances
We the People
Speak for our land’s legacy
In every tongue, from every rung
On each stumbled stair, each crumbled chair
We demand democracy.
8/21/20
Poem of the Day
August 23, 2020
I Am Your Shadow
You literally crawl out of your bed before the sun has come up,
Stretching reluctantly, knowing it’s another day on this island earth.
So you drag yourself to the john down the hallway a bit,
And urinate dutifully and automatically staring straight ahead,
With thoughts of coffee germinating behind vague-viewing eyes,
Which are not blinking due to not being fully cognizant
Of your inherent location in the universe at the moment.
But you move on in life anyway as if this morning ride
Is your last dance with the fickle sun rising strong outside,
Like a lantern-laden ship drawing nearer to port.
The mirror in your messy boudoir of silks and sarongs,
Reflects an exhausted young woman in need of repair,
For the hours of menial employment ahead for the day
Will perpetuate those lines, those creases of savage age.
But green money must be earned with a smile,
For the butcher will not give his meat freely, nor the potter his hands.
You scratch again the itch on your leg, the rash behind your knee,
And your customer buys two of each, and now
There is green money in your hands for the till.
The hour of sad afternoon arrives and it is time to find a thrill,
The day is swearing obscenities at you from behind open windows;
It is time to find boot-leg love on the run behind a garden trellis,
Maybe with a mustached stranger wearing blue suspenders?
Maybe with me your reliable shadow in a myriad of plodding walks at sunrise?
Maybe with death himself, as he offers his business card
Smiling with a carnation in his drooping lapel?
I am dead to many, a few are dead to me.
I am forgotten
by young women in green silk sarongs.
Some of the dead have taken vows of silence
lips forever sealed with amnesia.
I have fished Koi ponds for the sun,
drunk the passions of dreaming girls
as if they were my own.
Now I am an old man,
I sip the jasmine
as if it were a blood memory,
yet mind shakes
with a more than timid palsy.
Ring the temple bell once more for me,
I loved them all
and you can keep your pallid pity.
The dead pour me out like green tea
and if I were just a ghost,
just a thought once placed
upon a damp bamboo mat,
I will take that.
Ka-thump-a-loon, my pet raccoon,
sings opera in the woods at noon;
I love so much to hear him croon.
At night he carols to the moon.
If you are lucky you might hear
the songs he sings most loud and clear;
he plans to make it his career
with performances both far and near.
He will audition sometime soon,
accompanied by his pal baboon
who plays a really mean bassoon;
I know they'll make the critics swoon.
I guess I'll have to go along
and keep long lists of all his songs
and iron his wardrobe of sarongs,
protect him from the cheering throngs.
He seems excited, that's for sure;
he never has been too demure.
He keeps asking for a new coiffure,
a glitter mani- and pedicure.
Last night that crazy old raccoon
sucked on a helium balloon
and ate way too much crab Rangoon,
said he planned to change his tune.
He switched his genre to rock and roll,
thinks he can sing with a lot of soul;
winning American Idol his one goal
with its million dollar prize bankroll.
Things are getting out of hand;
the raccoon's plans are just too grand;
I wish he'd join the forest band
and forget this superstar status plan.
Success can never come too soon
to a want-to-be Las Vegas tycoon
who dreams of a big penthouse saloon,
Ka-thump-a-loon, my pet raccoon.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, August 18, 2015
Every song has a story under our big sun
Our song we sing forevermore from since a note begun
Let us roar from our core, powerful with might
Mighty might with delight for others to unite
Singing songs in sarongs to step a little dance
If people do not join with us they are in a trance
As a song is great to hear so never should prolong
A happy, hearty healthy party for the greatest song...
Dogs may join to sing our song with an upright tail
Holding notes are the goats behind them is a snail
Who wants in to harmonise the butterflies and bees
The lyrebird will sing our songs in minor, major keys...
The kangaroo will hop along to our vocal beat
Backups with rosellas and famous lorrikeet
Dolphins clicks singing tricks whilst whales do there thing
Overlapping with some rapping funky fusion fing...
Songs are for the people and for the animals
Everybody sings our songs even cannibals
We need to sing our song right now, We’ll sing it high and low
C’mon baby sing the song Oh ! Oh !! Oh!!!
Funky fusion fing...
Minor major keys...
For The greatest song...
For The greatest song...
For The greatest song...
For The greatest song
Marquees are bright with neon lights, where crowds line up for movie night
Holding hands, we're in 'The Strand'. The velvet carpet guides us in
Popcorn smokes, .. we're drinking cokes,... and cracking jokes with Bing and Hope
Lamour's along with more sarongs,... , her luscious lips, and cigarettes,
She fills ashtrays with smoking tips, and tosses guys like poker chips
'Movietone' intrudes with news, and soon we're in somber mood
Third-Reich goosesteps march again, ... an evil presence in the wind...
Cary Grant , (a news reporter), loves his girl, and his typewriter
"His Girl Friday", plot is witty, sometimes crazy. But Cary loves this ditzy lady....
William Powell and Mryna Loy..., Asta barks, and finds a toy, ...a ploy? a clue?,....
...an earring gold. The mystery is clearly solved.-- A crimson sun, is rising cold!
Movietone in black and white,... graphic scenes, where soldiers die
Another night, suspense on chart. 'Correspondent' , Joel McCrea.
Saves Lorraine, and claims the Day. BUY WAR BONDs !! They'll pave the way
Bogart, Bergman bring to light, a valiant flght , within their grasp
Airline ticket, in her hand, they must part, and do what's right, no questions asked
----
It's movie night, but you aren't here, a troopship took you far from here
Allied troops are moving tanks. I wait for you..God give me strength
I'm in the Strand, within the dark, there's no one here to hold my hand
I'm all alone...........I heard the news....................You left it all in Anzio
_____________________________________
For Contest Chopped III Sponsored by Craig Cornish
11/23/14
On the bluffs above the Lorelei Rock,
Overlooking the Rhine River near Bingen,
Is the Lorelei Ampitheater.
While stationed in West Germany,
Towards the end of the Cold War,
I saw there an awesome concert.
The main band was one of my favorite bands--
Possibly the best band America ever produced
(The only band that ever gave the Beatles any competition anyway).
Cheerleaders from the University of Nevada Las Vegas
Strutted and danced on stage
In uniforms, sarongs, and bikinis.
Rain didn't stop the show or discourage the spectators.
A significant percentage of the audience were young people,
Who liked the songs their parents treasured--
Songs about hot rods, love, and surfboards.
The song of the beautiful Lorelei below
Harmonized with the California sound above.