Long Shouldering Poems
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If Trump wins...rest in peace - Mother of Freedom
Post mortem courtesy
Doctor Demento yielded
Lady Liberty lies slain...
videre licet knocked senseless
from brutal blows upon her crown
simultaneously shouldering existential crisis
triggered nervous breakdown
though rendered mute
sound of silence doth expound.
Forsooth impeachment hearings
rendered him immune
to chastisement, insurrection
he did foment, blithely
skirting impairment appertain
blood on hands of
self important president,
though alcohol he doth abstain,
nonetheless permanent drunken stupor
doth wax and wain
finger of guilt
damaging democracy points
to him as chief villain
groomed since... time immemorial
atavistic primate brain
bathed (courtesy Frederick Christ Trump)
buzzfeeding chosen favored heir
go for broke – as a red badge of courage
bankrupt countless times
and pulled out all stops,
viz unbridled thundering,
espousing philosophy gain
amass wealth, unscrupulous
if necessary where,
might equals right cold play'n
deadly serious game (Life) train
sight squarely and/or roundly
scattered lovely bones
amidst tombstones testimony
incidental secondary fallout main
part and parcel, where legerdemain,
plus art of the deal linkedin
with immeasurable gloating
ego necessary to gain
con fetter writ oligarchy plain
successfully cheating, hocking,
milking, quaffing, and trending,
yielding dynastic rule
trumpeting eternal and carnal
stormy Daniels reign
vaping with wealthy
zealotry (think vain)
at electorate expense
tampering koolaid acid test
courtesy illegals sown GMO grain
colluding when/where possible,
never losing sight regarding
selfish mission to attain
obligatory ideal tyranny
rampantly running roughshod,
no need to explain
writing sleight underhanded profane
antithetical, critical, heretical quatrain
badgering, belittling, besmirching,
bilking, boasting, bragging with disdain
flagrantly flaunting, fleecing,
regarding purported B.S. degree
in economics he did attain
matriculating Wharton School of law,
hmm... methinks he paid
hireling from Ukraine
forever flirting, flouting, and flunking
even basic geography questions
case in point being
where is Drury Lane
additionally, he ain't
no literati familiar
storied quasi fiction Citizen Kane.
(the following extrapolated
thought thread exercised,
NOT utilized to intimate
how Fats Domino belied,
and wowed a crowded house as-sized).
as a former ace procrastinator, i abhor
putting off doing what best ought
to get immediate attention bar
ring some extenuating dire circumstance,
sans mishap with flying car
pet case in point being unexpected a bomb
bin able crisis necessitating
hypothetical individual impossible
to remain calm
while in the process
(assisted with good ole mom)
to hoist self with one's own petard,
which emergency best warrant a re ward,
otherwise if fate doth NOT
require one to break
from ordinary business as usual
to enlist the "FAKE"
help of a grenadier,
who doth make
his/her livelihood
risking their life,
and limb without quake
king (obviously compensating bravery
as he/she doth stake
out mortal danger with adequate adorn
ing mortal kombat
with ample legal tender and/
or promising first born)
for unstinting mettle,
especially tolerating accompanying
martial baritone horn
player screech (like fingernails
scraping blackboard)
in close proximity - eliciting a scorn
ing glare from soldier spy
tinker tailor with a torn
smile while trained
special ops named Bjorn
incurs deadly hazard from one morn
to the next amidst adversity
shouldering care worn
Marine's motto semper fidelis,
which unnecessary loss of young life
predicated on add
age, viz being at the least,
a day late and dollar short egad
inadvertently dooming
princely valiant warmonger,
a mere stripling lad
whose mourning brings
heavy pallor of sad
ness, which imagined situation - aye
tangentially congruently analogous by
and by to the butterfly effect,
or sparrow's swan song i.e. die
destiny wrought, when one dost espy
a single occurrence no lie,
(the flickr ring, instagram
ming, kickstart ting well nigh
linkedin shutterfly of a butterfly)
say twerks catcher in the rye,
hence no matter how small, thee or thy
can change the course
of the universe forever,
no idea how nor why!
Death
kills not despair
emotion found in Hell
nor does it kill wrath
against life imperfect
kills driver's chance
instead
to turn wheel
to gratitude gear
before bodyless
descent
down
slippery slope
of no return
all stays static
in Hell
no need for change
in boring hell
only the perfect
ends there
life changes
from imperfect
to imperfect
teethless to toothless
biting teeth of winter ice
to birds' alarm chatter
stinking flowers
nourishing wasps
to blistering heat
of sun caprice
till autumn thief
robs trees
dry
men to cows
parasites
helpless baby
senseless pa
ignorant mass
mediocre at best
leaving carbon
footprints
and nothing else.
Elite's wealth
will rid earth
of the useless:
pestilence, wars,
famines, GMO's
contraception, abortion
secret weapons
of mass destruction
nuclear blasts,
perfected by nerds
to kill the herd.
Devil dimmed eyes
don't you see
it's suicide?
Nature won't stay deaf
adding its toll
to death
revenging blood
unjustly shed
shaking mountains
out of lap
sneezing objects
down from sky
clouds dry
no tears left to cry
volcano mouths
erupting
dragon breaths
sea belly vomiting
tsunamis
turning skyscrapers
to dirt
killing with one blast
good and bad.
Humble life
not claiming
to be perfect
content of doing
the correct
to continues God's
life breath on earth
rotating wheel
from baby to caretaker
circle cycling
different each time
light following night
crocus piercing snow
unafraid of dying
from ice
rain and sun
softening heart's clay
for seeds to sprout
melody of spring songs
in azure skies
God's image
of love
shouldering sin
waste
breathing out
life
pears and apples
with God's seeds
perpetual imprint
whispering of peace
its silence
one limb torn
from humanity body
even the stones will cry.
Satan hates life
mortal wound
to his pride
only God
can create and
resurrect life.
God's life breath
not destroyable by death
descends into the abyss
if Holy Spirit's flame
is blown out by sin
or ascends to Paradise
of joy eternal
if forgiven by Jesus Christ.
That is all
that matters
to No-Body
which in time
is everybody.
Aging baby boomer
no longer fit as a fiddle
accumulating extra adipose tissue
around the middle
ain't no impossible mission
whence thumbs I twiddle
to shed unwanted
weight methinks exorcise to unriddle.
Call to action necessitates
yours truly to acclimatize,
calling fitness trainer
whereby honed toned physique
(tubby synonymous with Adonis – ha)
benefits begetting courtesy to aerobicize,
nsync dumbbells compliment exercise,
whereby brutal daily grueling
regimen will also comprise
boot camp rigorous discipline
strength to pilot (minus paunches)
shouldering, managing, hoisting crucifix sunrise
to sundown will non verbally advertize,
verily intolerant to chastise,
hence no bully best better mess
mine mean mien guise
will enjoyably capitalize
zing might equals right to authorize
self defense without need to apologize.
Back in the day, I
presented pitiful sight
self worth equated on
par with botanical blight
buffeted along boulevard
of broken dreams
depressed body language
bespoke head to foot
encompassing enfeebled edifice complex
scrawny measly gumby,
hokey pokey height
how I presented such sorry spectacle
courtesy excellent twenty/twenty hindsight
analogous to an emotional black hole,
never exhibiting courage to fight,
rather yours truly immediately took flight
and/or stood dumbfoundedly
in imitation of deaf mute wishing to alight
bajillion miles away, versus
active stance to fight
preferring the incognito
guise pitch dark vested gentry
donning luxury invisible
accouterment shade o' midnight
proffered, though natural camouflage
infrared crosshairs nonetheless did sight,
when scaredy cat sacrificial scapegoat
experienced his sealed fate, a heavy smite
upon me noggin scrambled outlook
seeing stars courtesy topflight -
(bare in) strong arms hoodlums
brandishing razor sharp dagger
type like fangs able, eager,
(think) bloodthirsty 10,000
homicidal maniacs
ready and willing to bite
simultaneously trumpeting
hate speech to excite
curious madding crowd
glomming to render airtight
any possible safe escape,
yours truly turned white
as a sheet.
It is my belief that the amount of debt that I have incurred during my long journey thru this life can never be fully repaid by a mortal man such as me. How much can it be?
One debt that I owe that I can never adequately repay is the love and understanding of my cherished wife who has shared her life with me.
What amount can be assessed, matter not what the endeavor, matter not the task, this wife of mine is always there to assist, never complaining while shouldering more than her share of the load?
How do I know an amount to be levied or know what I owe for the four beautiful children that she bore and shepherd through their early life and seen them on their way?
I have nothing to pay to cover the debt of seeing these same children that I am proud to call my own, become strong productive members of our society now with children of their own.
What amount is now owing for the pleasure that I see as I watch how well these grandchildren have made a start on their own families, lives and careers as they move toward future years?
What amount do I owe for the gift of this life that has been given to me by the generations that have gone before, that allowed me to be born into this land of the free?
What is my share of the debt owing to the young men and women that serve in our military and fight and die for us each day as others have done before, yet thankfully I personally have never had to experience the horrors of a war?
What is the value of my place upon a land of plenty where in this life I have never known real hunger or lacked for medical care in my time of need or longed for just a spark of hope?
What do I owe for the sights that I see as I gaze at the mountains, rivers and the sea that spread out before us all as we travel across this land?
I know that these debts cannot be paid in mere monetary terms but only by showing my deep appreciation and a heartfelt “thank you” while explaining to all how much they all have meant to me?
Conveyance of this message hopefully may help to render full payment and hopefully settle the score. I can only hope that will be the case.
I don't know when these lines ran off my shouldering lips this morning...
but I guessed they are spirit and being,
home and forest, evil and sorrow.
I don't know that men are made of
two spirits & souls & bodies until
I saw a boy cast out from his clan.
his body remained in the Obi of his
forebearers whilst his spirit went & his
Soul sang a dirge and elegy among his kindred who watched amidst laughter whilst the other of his body, soul, and spirit went beyond.
I don't know why my blood sipped from his tears and flew down to the ground,
I don't know why culture made men insane like the mad masquerade that was bitten by a snake.
I don't know why we rejected our own in the name of caste system &traditions.
are we not same breathe from same god?
I don't know why we sang last night,
I don't know why we made the moon shine on others and cast it away from our brothers in the ditch to cry and die.
and we dragged their shadows to bury in the evil forest where the unseen gods live.
Let me see your palms and your eyes,
The stars are the easing thought there of,
Let me see your lips and hair,
are they not the same colour with that man sent out last night?
The name of every caste is in our mouth,
blood. Water. Spirit. Souls. Bodies.
The names of every Osu is a bosom of every river flowing eastward.
They are the images climbing the sign whilst the world was dancing to a lonely lullabies.
We made them see the stars descending with black roses & yelling & belching.
My mother was a victim,
my father was a victim,
and that piece of a broken boy was also a victim of this hiccupped mayhem.
Yesterday, the town crier said with a prelude light song that two bodies was found in the street & my people cared not but languised in wine &merriment.
This still remain our fate as my brother went visiting his head &was chased away by her father cos he is an Osu.
Yours Poetically,
©John Chizoba Vincent
Schlerotic schlemiel schleps...
Into lonely senescence -
three plus decades already elapsed
trepidation, hesitation unbearably
tugging, shouldering,
remonstrating accumulation
of "baggage" thumb
of right hand thrust out
silently raving, quaking
cursing ultimatum parents
(soffit to fascia in)
saw fit to fashion
and hammer home
red hot poker rage
their singular male offspring
middle child of two sisters,
who long since vacated premises
when both young naifs
prior to attaining age of consent
deploring bing holed up
at 324 Level Road redoubt
built as summer house
remote from fracas of urban bedlam
still fifty years since Leipers
bon voyage into netherland
father and mother
imposed swiftly tailored
harried styled tough love
translated meant absolute zero value
toward offspring they begot,
and made quite clear loathing
heaped upon sundered fountainhead
good for nothing son of a...,
he whittled away precious time
reading avast among trove of material
crowdsourcing numerous bookshelves
mostly to impress intellectual visitors,
when in truth middle aged couple
thinly veiled country bumpkins,
donned with "FAKE" literacy
stereotypical "rednecks,"
inexplicably begot wunderkind
agog with inhaling literature
in tandem with liberal
magazines and newspapers
oft times whiled away countless hours
sunup to sundown
sequestered most remote nook
within local library
few miles walk along country road
served as self taught schooling
since parochial educated regimen
habitually rapped knuckles
courtesy whiplike hickory stick
if pupil evinced slightest
distraction, whence schoolmaster
detected lack of attention
as crotchety curmudgeon
blankly droned monotonously
dull jabbering subjected
stone faced classmates
into instant soporific state
futilely struggling to keep eyelids
slamming shut tight
including yours truly,
who when suddenly awake
realized quite a vivid dream!
Today is good but tomorrow will be better
Today my heart is heavy but tomorrow it will be lighter
Sweat is oozing out of my body dripping from my hands and face
Soaking my shirt as if I was running a long distance race
My Adrenalin is jumping precariously around the town and the heat is
creating havoc in my knees scorching the plants in the first degree
The cars around me are running up down street and curious passengers stared steadfast at me. I can see the frustration on their faces and a strange look in their eyes as if they were reaching out to me and the silence in their voice could be felt from a distance.
I felt myself racing from a distance, racing against time shouldering a burden that is not mine and yet I feel connected to something that’s bigger than me and somewhere in the universe it is waiting for me. It has a romantic lips and a passionate heart but I still cannot bring myself to make that start. It’s bold, it’s fearless and strong; it is deep
The ocean is standing in front of me with open gut reminiscing from the flood and the water lilies are floating around the unsettled mud, it continues to move to where destiny is bound and I continue the struggle this oblique town. I look behind the tree and I saw you standing there signaling to me. From whence did you come, when the damage is already done. From whence did you come, when the battles is already won.
I could feel your vibration from afar and the desire burning in your heart
Smoke billowing in the atmosphere and the birds flying everywhere
The minstrels has competed the round aiming to where destiny is bound
I could feel the rage from afar and tankers rolling gingerly in the dark
You could sense that the universe was coming to an end and the night sky slowly drifting by and somewhere around the bend the tumultuous night came to an abrupt end. I gazed into the dark and your eyes met with mine and our souls interlock.
There are those things that left our bodies when we were younger flying innocently...
Those bridges of pretentious smile that we took to our mother's dimples to collect glories.
Those magic tears that once sliced loneliness off our shouldering lips,
Those bite and bite of unwanted hunger that beat us in the presence of our parents...
There are masquerade of innocent thoughts
Masquerade of shattered dreams at dusk,
Masquerade of fears that tortured us at dawn!
Those desks of forgotten hope in you.
We tried to gather ourselves together to bring the sun home to our flammable insight.
We tried to build the jungle on the palms of our forefathers...
We told our friends that our parents possess a lion at home,
We scared our enemies with the legging empire of our scattered home.
Those were the phases we left drifting into adulthood in pains.
We forgot our tattered thoughts climaxing into an orbiting wants and needs.
We papered the drive to become a better person.
We took our hand bags and put them in the air like nothing would pull it down.
Under the rain, we sang of Africa and the world
We demonstrated the right of humanity and love.
Those bridges burnt down gradually as we traveled
From childhood to adulthood.
As we journey with a thinking umbrella that will protect us from the sun tomorrow.
Those are the things I keep remembering now.
The song we sang under the rain...
The snails we picked in the night with a strange lamp we stole from a neighbour.
The girls we touched their nipples and killed them with shyness.
The boys we sent away from home that never returned!
The fishes we trapped under the small water we made their home.
The blind village beggars we stole their money in the dark...
They are those things we left behind as we walked into adulthood with laughter of hyenas pains.!
©John Chizoba Vincent
From_A_Pen_Refusing_frustration
Confidence it seems has gone astray
Economics?
Ah what a waste they now say
It seems all those case studies
Must be thrown out the window
Now that confidence has flown far away
Should I just call up mystic Meg or pray?
Built up on false accounting by snake oil bankers
The world economy crumbled
With the first adverse wind
Revealing the nothing knowing man
Trembling within
To call it a recession and not a depression
Is mere plaster work
After the wall has fallen down
On us seemingly blameless ordinary folk
What if my spending plans
Contributed to the country defaulting
And going broke?
Am I to beat myself up for spending
As if tomorrow was some
Silly inconsequential joke?
We did put all our hopes in
The banking sector
Purely due to the fickleness of glamour
Now we are left to stew and simmer
A disaster a day keeps hope at bay
The pages we peruse for some good news
Pander to our capacity to blame others and
To never learn from even our immediate past
The power of lines not carefully strung
By pundits that sell glamorous misery
Is a possible impediment to growth
And economic recovery
These are the holy attributes
That our paper world stands on
Times are hard we are often reminded
By those who have and take too much
To expect no austerity
When the cupboard is bare
Is to act selfishly they also claim
Despite them shouldering no blame
For the dismal state we are now in
Turmoil is endemic
Contagious fear quickly spreads
No border is rigid enough to safeguard any nation
Or business plan bullet proof
We just have to mend and make do
With ineffective sticking plaster
That is quantitative easing
I think I may need to read a horoscope or two
Fingers crossed they will guide me safely through
This disaster I believe I contributed nothing to