Long Sponsorship Poems
Long Sponsorship Poems. Below are the most popular long Sponsorship by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sponsorship poems by poem length and keyword.
You know what? Too much of ship been going on.
As I sit back I realize, I been dealing with a lot of ship. I really been in some ship and through some ship in my life.
But enough about me, what about you? What kind of ship have you been in or experienced?
Let’s evaluate some of this ship.
relationship, censorship, battleship
sportsmanship, leadership, kinship
discipleship, cruise ship, sponsorship
championship, guardianship, worship
membership, scholarship, dealership
spaceship, citizenship, fellowship
friendship, partisanship, dictatorship
partnership, workmanship, starship
apprenticeship, companionship
stewardship, penmanship…
Alright that’s enough, I’m so over this ship.
Difficult to understand are the languages spoken by life
“he who works should eat,” but why the constant shift of the goal post?
Seriousness in following principles may lead one to be swallowed by the earth
I have always been an adult, let me be taken care of, like a neonate this day
So, I dashed to the nearest eatery with what should be enough.
Sitting in the restaurant gave me the grace of the countryside
a receptive bar tender thankfully indicates no alarm of fire or smoke
but the Menu condemns my class to neutralize any victorious smile,
half glass of a common drink and a piece of snack is not my trend,
nothing bad to have a first time in almost a lifetime.
Half way my meal, the one seated opposite me becomes too generous
to a limitless order he offers and gives the unsolicited visa
with the assurance of sponsorship from a well-populated pocket.
A massive top up from my command that flowed with audacity
as half my table causes, in the arena, an arm-length of goose bumps.
Those in white suddenly come in to capture a refugee of mental institution,
a threat to society who escaped, and he sits right in front of me,
it was six to one; yet the drag to the door is labored.
When bad luck meets greed, misfortune grows to a grandfather
I stare in irredeemable shock to my order that can feed half an orphanage.
Two people of equal weight
Strong muscles straining
Both suddenly subdued with spiteful hate
Hand and buzzer the winner ordaining
In truth the real sport
Is the judging of the referee
Here the fighters are in his court
And he moves like a boat across the sea
The fact is that he moves across the ring
Slithering and crawling
All waiting for the finial ding
Or the contestants still and sprawling
Striped shirt with logos on either sleeve
Sponsorship like the fighters in the match
Except his own body does he heave
And both rule breakers and winners does he catch
Sometimes moving on head and toes
So he can spot the smallest changes
All to see the joys and woes
And anger’s varied verbal ranges
So, put simply, this is his domain
With the expert eye of a professional chef
He goes through the most entertaining strain
Enjoy watching the ref
Afrobeats 1:
The Sound That Crossed the Ocean
From Imo, Kogi, Ibom, Abuja and Lagos streets
Harmonious rhythms power the sways and swings of the streets
Where the flute, gongs and talking drums would speak,
To crowded clubs in London every week,
A rhythm born beneath the African sun
Has danced across Eurasia, Americas, joined the world us as one.
Once they ignored the songs our fathers sang,
The highlife chords, the joyous voices rang,
The sweat of dreamers, demos cast aside,
The gifts of Africa dismissed with pride.
Yet deep within the marketplace and community square,
The heartbeat of a people lingered there.
From Fela's fire and Osadebe's grace,
From Masekela's horn and Makeba’s that filled the space,
The roots grew strong beneath Dibangos, the dust of years,
Watered by hope, persistence, sweat, and tears.
Then came the age of circuits, screens, and light,
The PC to WhatsApp opened doors once sealed from sight.
Tweeter; X, and TikTok carried melodies afar,
Facebook made a village of each star.
Snapchat flashed the rhythm through the night,
And YouTube gave forgotten dreams their flight.
No passport stamped the music's border then,
No gatekeepers could silence it again.
The distance shrank, the costs were laid to rest,
The world could hear Africa at its best.
A groove emerged both ancient and brand new,
With Oja and talking drums beneath a modern view.
Hypnotic Ekwe basslines rolling smooth and deep,
Syncopated pulses waking souls from sleep.
English and Pidgin danced from tongue to tongue,
P-square, Phyno, Olamide in Igbo and Yoruba brightly sung.
Hooks floated high on melodies refined,
Leaving every language far behind.
Highlife's golden sweetness, joined the ride,
Dancehall swagger moving side by side.
Amapiano's log drums shook the floor,
Creating sounds unheard of once before.
Like Michael Jackson's breakthrough years on MTV,
A continental movement crossed the sea.
Take a break in the rhythm, chillax in the beats
The best is yet to be born of Afrobeats
Hey!
A whole lot of inspiration from a loyal friend,
Does he not give you the sponsorship for this trip?
No one have you in mind,but he cares for you,
Hearts are broken with no intimations for mending,
I come for you,
The battle is weighing your capacity,
It is the refix of apostolic tragedy,
The ultimate sword is out from your hand,
It's nonowhere to be found,
The armour on you is destroyed into pieces,
The ornaments and all your weapons are gone,
It's tragic and very sad,
Breathing uncontrollably towards defeat,
You're now in a different space,
My heart rejoice for your coming here,
Circled without casualty from an axis,
Pain,heartbreak,discouragement and brutes,..the earth cultivate,
He wants you to be what you think you can't be,
His hand was the conceited bomb in smashing the opponent's head,
Got to keep closer to him,...is not a dream,
Always waiting for your command,
Just say,"I believe" ,
When you feel him around,
He is in a waking shoe,with a strong fastened lace,
No soul can untie,
Some say,"...is statutes to reform the Tempe is so high",
I think this lies in self decisions and convictions,
What then will score this best unending security?
What do we guess?
Only little time to prepare for this good friend's return,
Those around you might be dismayed for their existence,
For the soon coming battle is for your coated faith,
There's no rumour when multitudes will be dispersed on the streets,
Weariness definitely is waiting for you,
And the sponsorship is real,
Catch you after the trumpet is blown!
I went to the Big church night in
saw rend colective experiment and saw matt redman too,
and was great to worship at vineyard with you,
I endeded us sponsoring a child,
so hope this helps her to smile
and make her life a bit more worth while,
she can got to school, and have food and clothing too,
and its the most amazing thing that we can do,
i pray my sponsord child will go far and god will help her along the way
I pray god will bless my sponsored child each and every day. Amen
Joba lives in Bangladesh and goes to sunday school and church regularly, Praise god, she will be ok now through compassion and my sponsorship.
Themed based
takes the place
of sponsorship strategies
a consortium of things
that angles on the
possibilities
Wrong choices
selfish motives
and disobedience
are key points to began
instruction
each theme focuses on
person " Anyone"
who needs instruction
but does know
the right terminology to
illustrate what he or she needs
Thematism and Sponsorage
teaches terminology with
word usage and definitions
to separate
the confusion
of spoken words
in play or in day to day
communication.
We will take time
to find each genre were each
term is usaed and
define it's purpose.
Using the right word in
the right pretext
illustrates one's professionalism.
Incontext studies
will separate each term to use
words in the jargon and field
where it is surpassed to be.
For example Prise Mandel
is smart. But a person on his job
doesn't like him.
Instead of auguring with him
or fighting him
he uses his position as manger
to get Brice into trouble.
He put's Brice in charge of
management while he is on vacation.
He tells Brice that he is to
reopen the restaurant after hours
and asks Brice to
clean the grills and stoves before
inspection.
He tell Brice to write
the chore list under
the title " duty of the Flurrers".
Flurrer is a **** term. When
the District manager came
to review the books she see's
Brices entry in the Chore Ledger
under Duties of the Furriers:
and she instantly fires Brice for
being unprofessional. Brice has
now been seen as a joker, someone
unprofessional. And he doesn't
ed and worked
to achieve.
Cut from the same cloth, certainly didn't apply
I'd lived twenty places, was born to improvise
You had one home, parents, sister, two nephews
Persistance forced my flighty spirit to accept you
Invited to hang with your family on usual basis
Questions about my background always evaded
Overheard your Dad say after a dinner one eve
" Son, truly.... Get a nice girl, not so zany - leave"
As would most men aged 24, in new relationship
With age 19, you paid no heed, an excuse to slip
Finally away from the family home, we moved
Interstate, far from scrutiny, habits disapproved
A year passed, dreams and dramas wrestled
Competed for front row view of young love nestled
Between marital bliss, mortgage payments, careers
Told folks we relied on your income, truth more severe
Four nights a week exotic dancer took a heavy toll
Your folks hassled you, different girl a better goal
" See how good Mum's been to me," he implored
Soon after discovered my job, they took no more!
Arrived on next flight - your Dad stupidly locked me out
Enraged, I pay most the mortgage, he couldn't discount
Hours later, he emerged scowling, dragged you elsewhere
I struggled to digest your choice, sudden diminished care
Rough days passed, your invasive Dad in your ear
You came to see me despite his advice not to come near
Announced you'd decided to return, to sponsorship offered
Engineering degree, future safe, my funds they scoffed at
Twenty years onward, confounded by that night's velocity
Dangled disheartening aspect, our perfectly drawn ferocity
Sobbing estatic cries mingled greasily, future severed us
Relishing your resurrection, impossible stood impervious
Worshipping each crest and crevice, tears wiped, wet again
Pleasure mounted meal of now, rubbed sliced, salted in pain
Wounds of what was coming consumed core and limbs
Sunset and sunrise conjoined, ongoing herald of eroticism
I had won a sponsorship on a sailing ship,
I was ecstatic it was right up my street.
Trouble is, I was to go in hospital.
But I was promised I would be fit, to join the fleet.
I woke up from my surgery
It was over and I wanted time to go faster,
My lifetime trip, I could almost see,
But I was in bed now, and covered in plaster.
For my trip, I waited what seemed an age
Patience, not being my best virtue.
A sailing ship to learn how to sail,
‘You can go.’ Said the surgeon
‘That I promise you.’
Don’t worry you will be up and about
This is what the operation is for.
I promise you will be able to go
Even though, it will still be a bit sore.
They put special lamps on to dry the cast;
I wanted to know how long this plaster will last.
He looked at me and in a voice devoid of feeling;
‘Oh six weeks is needed to repair the bones.’
I cried, and raised my eyes to the ceiling.
‘Well how can I go on a sailing ship? I cried,
I felt my heart was breaking fast.
‘I need to unfurl sails and be able to climb the mast
How am I now, to do this, and sail the ocean blue?
That is the main question that I am asking you.’
‘My job is to make you well;
And necessary if I find it,
I will plaster you from head to foot,
Never mind just your foot and hip.’
‘I say you can go, but up to me, it may not be.
But that’s not my problem, really - in all reality.’
He lied to me to get me in hospital,
My trip was duly cancelled.
I was thirteen years old at the time,
And on this my feelings rankled.
They sent me a photograph of all those on the ship,
It was supposed to make me feel good;
I took it badly at the time,
But then I think any thirteen - year old would.
They may as well have slapped me in the face
As compensation, I thought it a disgrace.
A year passed, I won again, and this time I could go.
I won the “Best Sailor Cup” award,
And I still have it to show.
A piece of time formatted only for small minds
Its like you watching cable for wisdom
And I Got sattelite image in high definition
And its formatted to all time wide screen
So its not a poem its a experience
Lets dim the lights close the blinds
Call on a Indian and a reptile king
And relearn not all words are transcendent
So yea, I'm shaking my head at alot of men
Who were given a gift only to exploit and misuse
Bought and censored are another word used
Sponsorship.
Enough money they take for material gain
Selling their responsibility for power
And buy into the things that first had them bounded
So I laugh at all these wealthy who are confused
Think they got talent when they shop for words
And take the credit.
Because all those words and never said nothing
Useless phrases, wordplay and rhythm
Nothing you say ever transcended
Any further than lips on their narcissistic heads
If you are not plugged in you are tuned out.
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