Long Shrewd Poems
Long Shrewd Poems. Below are the most popular long Shrewd by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shrewd poems by poem length and keyword.
How should I be judged for my humility,
or for my undeniable sensibility?
Then, let sublime peace flow
into my ardent veins and beating chest,
to console me in my loneliness...
when I'm ready to lay to eternal rest.
And whenever hope rests
underneath these wings, it will be defended
and protected from harmful things;
but love also will seek refuge here,
to live freely in eternal age...
away from the predators that use it
to their selfish advantage!
How should I be judged for my humility,
or for the spiritual riches they have failed to see?
Today, wealthy people are incredibly admired
for their worth, not for their faith, to show the greedy world
how much you've got, but without warning they will lose it all!
I gather no treasures, and I don't have
to safeguard them from all those shrewd thieves,
and my invisible possessions are only watched
by the eyes of angels for that Heavenly reward,
and living untroubled by worries, promises me
real joys until death comes on that fateful hour;
I would be an impostor to say that I lived a rich life!
Like a stalking hoarse,
Have endured shrewd days and night,
Like the physician ampoule,
Ready on my skin to pour.
flights from ignorance left these
Strawberry marks,
Eyes glued on the object
compelled to the hard brown wooden logs in art,
And the iron in room "G02".
Friends and enemies unrelenting
awaits enticement,
numberless distraction as obstacles on my path,
beckoning to the banquet of misery,
as this dangling reputation slowly pace along undeterred.
ego gangs gauged and chokes to loose the prize
avalanche of invisible darts piercing from home and abroad,
but I, a pretty piece of flesh,
Stand aloof to watch a drama
With the ointments of the supreme being
Within my bowels,
Those that see the seals, demand the cause,
Of quietude in this world of madness.
As I stood aloof to watch the wretch mirth turns to mourn
Ah weary watcher, like you, I am a mere voyager,
on the route where the delight of the peasantry
Is wept into oblivion
There are dangerous curves
As we advance,
there are dangling arrows,
The old serpent is not dead,
he hides in ambuscades
The road becomes deeper and deeper,
The shades of the precipices fall bleaker and bleaker.
The clouds gather overhead,
Doleful voices
The way hardly discernible in this gloom
The path is dreary,
our feet too often wobble,
Heart ambushed by fiercest lust,
Yet, Firm stand I.
Not in my natural element
I shiver upon the verge,
clinging desperately to a bough
that heaves with its last goodbye.
A chasm bellows sharp below,
with cadence of dying shades -
a wind of gold and ruin.
The wind laments, a shrewd torturer,
lashing me against the chasm’s lip.
The tree, my stalwart tower,
reels inward, darkening with his wound,
his low arms sagging helpless,
heavy with one last glance at me.
I am the weakest of his ages,
one leap into the chasm,
where freedom and oblivion embrace.
My veins, once flushed with life,
now race with the thrill of the fall.
The shreds of my colours swirl
into the dark,
one final scream of dying grandeur
as I let go this branch of life.
I am torn in these excruciating moments
between release and despair,
an echo of silent sorrow,
having fallen through the chasm of time,
a torn leaf from the safety of known,
into the wild.
Yet, in the depths of this darkness,
a flicker of light stirs within -
a whisper of hope,
reminding me that even in the void,
there is a pulse, a breath,
a chance to rise anew
from the ashes of this fragile existence.
In the release, I embrace the unknown,
the promise of rebirth in the wild.
trade not lanky love with worn whore
even if innovation to felon fame crawls
that airy asset yearns yanking yawn
she'll idolize bruised bankruptcy forlorn
if you nurse gaunt grudge 'gainst faith
that like gored gazelle, damp doubt you trail
felon fate had admitted your ailment -
haggard helium fostered feelings ferment
observe the callous calls of cloned clouds
that lusty lightening heeds shrewd shout
if lightening feigns ignorance seeped'n strains
dark doors prune pulpy yawn for rustic rain
take a drop and make it into a pool
the more you take, to use the confused.
'20:05:31:09:35
Note: of rustic reserata.
Be most willing to cast your lot:
In brisk mulling sharp poke spears plot.
Craft hides my face in a plain look,
To fit rare trace in a shrewd hook.
It seems quite clear in mime and mask,
To front sly cheer that fatal task.
I style a smile through my bright mask,
Guile is worthwhile in my set task.
What aids the harsh in vile refrains
Is but good blush to anchor gain.
Obsess odd rhyme for timely pierce,
I bide my time with mindset fierce.
Thus what I speak strings loaded chance,
For my words streak a hidden dance.
To each a mask that stokes the lies,
As fear can bask sad coward's sigh.
What horrors here come forth to greet
In furious fear on dubious streets?
Leon Enriquez
09 September 2018
Singapore
me and my big fat ego failed the business
i swim in a sea of red because of my fat ego
everyone tells me this
but i dont want to listen
i run a fast food restaurant like a McDonald
instead of stimulating the business
doing the marketing, research and development
public relations etc
i rather flip burgers
you heard right, flip burgers
i flip burgers like a slave, sacrificing life
because of my fat ego
you heard right
my big fat ego
people ask me why
why, why
i tell them i flip burgers
to top the leader-board of most burgers flipped in a day
to me thats more important than the business
... to top the leader board ...yep
...and have best flipping burgers of all time.. yep
that right
it goes back to my big fat ego
theres was also stipulation that a burger flipper can only win once
so what i did ..i'm so shrewd
because of my big fat ego
is that i flip burgers under different aliases
dont i have them fooled?
me best burger flipper of all time
yet my restaurant is drowning in whine
... me and my big fat ego failed the business
leading me into being in denial, losing my inhibitions
and talking about my personal life at work instead
of being abstract
connie pachecho
2/14/17
Scales of azure and emerald green,
Adorn tri-folding translucent wings,
Radiating an iridescent sheen,
Off this mythical creature of old...
Crimson flames with every breath,
His eyes shrewd with amber hue,
One touch was the kiss of death,
From this mythical creature of old...
Soaring high in sapphire skies,
Thunder roaring over the land,
Queens shuddered hearing the cries,
Of this mythical creature of old...
Knights in armor searched in wild,
This dragon they could not find,
Kings sat upon thrones beguiled,
Over this mythical creature of old...
Untouched by swordsmen’s blades,
Beyond aim of hunter’s bow,
Capture he evades,
This mythical creature of old...
written for Dragons contest by The Silent One 10/22/15
Chairman Xi Jinping you seek a new geo-strategical order
Sick of the blame game burden and fake foreign news
Like viruses internet hacking sanctions and accusations
Spew a fault line of tsunamis and earth shattering quakes
Pacific surfers’ paradise and floods of Confucian proportions
‘The envious man grows lean at the success of his neighbour’
Unless you are ignorant of razor sharp obvious double edged swords
Dragons assert to be peaceful creatures or aggressive tormenters
Paradigms shift under the influence of stark power and retaliation
Who threw the first stone anyway and was it a gem or merely a pebble
We all bleed the same red blood when we sigh our ultimate breath
Rise to challenge before everything goes up into terminal smoke
‘Before you embark on a journey of revenge dig two graves’
Its the year of the Zodiac Rat that symbolizes current affairs
Inquisitive shrewd and resourceful and of dualistic acclaim
Yin and Yang cosmic energy and universal chaos contained
In one symbol of unity and the harmony of opposite claims
A fortune cookie of crossed chopsticks wishbones and ashes
‘We should feel sorrow but not sink under its oppression’
Manifestos ideologies belligerent strides’ clashing culture
Where right turns wrong opposition becomes commitment
An eye for a blind eye slap on the cheek a take on the chin
As the red sun sets over the Blue Chinese Sea it remains to
Be seen whether defense or aggression descends into void
‘Our greatest glory is not in ever falling but in rising every time’
Maybe Humpty Dumpty needs a stepladder next time around
Chairmen Xi are you the rampart or full of nuclear con-fusion
Please stand up to my challenge and listen to my riddle and verse
11th May 2020
The lines in quotation are words attributed to Confucius
Chorus
Banks! Banks! Let us all do away with banks
And their dirty tricks and their silly pranks
Banks! Banks! They mean very little to me
If I was the king all banks will be history
If I was the king all banks will be history
If I was the king all banks will be history
Verse One
Banks are stingy
Banks are greedy
They steal from the needy
Banks never give but they love to take
If your friend is a bank
He will rob you before you wake
Only fools bail out the banks
Because I will rather take my money
They sold me worthless shares when my day was sunny
With the hope that one day I will lick from the bank’s honey
Now my day is rainy and I don’t think it is funny
I would never buy those shares I rather buy an Easter bunny
Only foolish kings bail out the banks
I rather bail out a pauper
The economy is going bad
While my people are left to suffer
Beware of the banks and the evil that they do
Today it is me but tomorrow it may be you
Chorus
Banks! Banks! Let us all do away with banks
And their dirty tricks and their silly pranks
Banks! Banks! They mean very little to me
If I was the king all banks will be history
If I was the king all banks will be history
If I was the king all banks will be history
Verse Two
Bank! Banks! They can never be your friend
Today they are collecting your money
But you are broke
They say see you later Sunny
Beware! Beware! Beware!
When a bank tells you sign here
They will take everything you have
Including your underwear
Is it your bit of filthy magic?
To trade with a bank may be tragic
Shrewd little goldsmith demanding for gold
And any item of value
Or anything he could see or hold
Bald headed money lenders demanding for a pound of flesh
You can take the meat from his cheek
But remember that no blood must spill
Banks don’t care they will rather kill
Take off his damn head off with a sharp edged steel
Deducting money from my account bill bill bill
Banks are the biggest thieves because the love to steal
Banks destroy the economy and they never heal
Banks will charge you money for a rotten potato peel
Banks! I hate banks!
They say can I borrow you some money
I say no thanks
Banks! Banks! Let us all do away with banks
And their dirty tricks and their silly pranks
Banks! Banks! They mean very little to me
If I was the king all banks will be history
If I was the king all banks will be history
If I was the king all banks will be in misery
Small town grocery stores nowadays are very rare indeed,
But in simpler times they supplied a family's every need.
As a Hoosier lad, I worked in Mr L B Owen's Grocery Store,
In charge of absolutely nothing, but was given every rotten chore!
Poor Mr Owens was prone to go into a very ballistic state,
At the least of my many blunders - he could really get irate!
If I caused a crash of his neat display of vegetable soup,
He'd scream, "Stack it again, you incompetent nincompoop!"
It was a social club where neighbors met each Saturday night.
Men in overalls, women in calico - what a varied sight!
Ladies bartered with shrewd Mr Owens their eggs and butter,
While seeking bargains midst the narrow aisles and clutter!
Ah, but the sights, sounds and smells will e'er remain with me;
The squeaky floor, the odor of onions, the fresh ground coffee,
The butcher wielding his cleaver, slicing orders to please,
Barrels of dill pickles, colorful fruits and wheels of cheese!
There wasn't a PA system blaring, "Cleanup needed on aisle four!"
Nor surly, gum-chewing cashiers - he would've shown them the door!
Even in my stumbling, bumbling way I tried to be of service,
But I suspect my feeble efforts made Mr Owens, very, very nervous!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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