Long Starter Poems
Long Starter Poems. Below are the most popular long Starter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Starter poems by poem length and keyword.
In the dark depths of ancient lands,
where shadows whisper secrets to the night,
lies a tale of a region forged by mystic hands,
a pure product marked by "justice and fraternity."
From the dawn of the shining royal reign,
over the grand and majestic Tartar halls,
no soul from outside the system's chain
has ever stepped foot on this enchanted land.
Masonry breathes through the Monarch's sigh,
a subtle wind guiding those who were brought,
masons, the sculptors of masses, standing nigh,
keeping the throng low, their past forever fraught.
Though the monarchy's crown does not adorn its brow,
Romania reigns as an unseen monarch,
a scent of power lingering, somehow,
in corners unthought by the common.
And so I ponder, in this twilight's gleam,
what is patriotism in a masonic design,
where lodges commence with a national dream,
"Awaken, Romanian," a call so divine?
For patriotism, ancient and true,
a homeland is needed, a soil to defend,
as Tudor Vladimirescu's words ensue,
"The homeland's the people, not the thieves who pretend."
Thus the patriot tends to the crowd, the masses,
but can also be a thief, unseen in the light,
he's not of the people, but one who surpasses,
plugged to public wealth, in shadowy might.
All began as patriots, a noble disguise:
PNL, USR, AUR, FSN-PDSR, PNT-cd, UDMR,
each claimed to cherish the people's cries,
yet none brought the dawn, leaving dreams to despair.
Patriotism, a starter pack for ambition's plight,
one cannot skip the stage of care,
building roads and bridges, shining bright,
born to bring a throne to the masses' lair.
Some proclaimed to live for your joy,
a promise never met in the valley of tears,
Romanioka, where sorrows deploy,
since the great bring-in of 1800's years.
Remember, rat, in your endless quest,
all lands are ruled by the Monarch's hand,
through satanists, his dark behest,
but in "Romania," the worst of them stand.
Patriotism, the greatest faith's replace,
as chronic poverty, "traditional" named,
in this land where shadows embrace,
and dreams of betterment are forever tamed.
2 cups of cooked grounded pork
2 teaspoons of cumin
1 tablespoon of ground garlic powder
1/2 cup of sautéed chopped onion
1/4 cup of sautéed green peppers
1/2 cup of sautéed zucchini
5 tablespoons of lemongrass (chopped)
1 tablespoon of cayenne
3 cups of béchamel sauce
1/4 cup of lime juice
2 cups of chopped tomato's(seeded, and peeled)
2/3 cups of basil (fresh, cut into ribbons)
2/3 cups of olive oil
2 cups of parmesan cheese
1 cup of mozzarella
5 tablespoons of crushed garlic
2 pounds of Tagiatelle (cooked)
in a large pot add about 3 tablespoons of olive oil, toss in the lemongrass, and garlic powder: add lime juice, add onions, green peppers,zucchini and garlic, cover the veggies with the oil, and remove from the heat, add pork, and cumin and cayenne, place back on the heat, stir until flavors, become one. remove from the heat and add the béchamel sauce, and parmesan, and olive oil, mix well covering all the ingredients. add basil and remove from heat. allow to cool slightly. (10 minutes) add tomato's and noodles. stir and serve with mozzarella on top!
We served this with garlic bread and wine. washing our hands after taking of the starter of my Beautiful Italian Car !
Like bookends, Grandma and Grandpa —
those smiles — only one wears the apron
and the music, classical and gypsy
I was glowing in their eyes, growing
only for one who kept her pride of me,
when for the longest time, inferiority.
Blessing of a Hungarian household
we left just in time for the drama to build
there was rifts, crashes and death
and in one Poughkeepsie starter home
no Christmas tree to be found in 1962
Did we feel the sudden sadness —
my dad’s heart imploding — his dad’s
book closed, forever...forever stretches out
reality is a sudden blowout
only now in his wrinkled years
can he leak information from his tears
1/17/2021
Again on the side of the road with my head under the hood,
A firm jiggle on the starter wire and start again she probably should.
More than a month’s salary to get her fixed, I cannot afford to pay,
So every time she conks out on me - the hood goes up before I’m on my way.
The burn on the side of my hand is from touching the engine when still hot,
After that rather painful lesson learned I can now reach in and touch it not.
Beggars can’t be choosey so I still drive the old family clunker,
Once I graduate and get a real job, I’m driving her into a bunker.
A station wagon older than me is not conducive for getting a date;
The rich kids on the other side of town use their Camaros as pretty girl bait.
The electric window in the back of the car no longer goes up, it just stays down;
The heater is broke so in the winter I drive a car full of snow all over the town.
On days when jiggling doesn’t seem to work, I revert to using my thumb;
Camaros pass by with pretty girls inside and I really feel kind’a dumb.
It’s a character builder I tell myself since I really have no other choice,
I jiggle again and beg her to start in my nicest and most sincere voice.
January 1 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Genesis 1-3
Key Verse– Genesis 1:1 In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.
PRAISE BE TO GOD, OUR LIFE’S BEGINNING
Praise be to God, our life’s Beginning Who is our great:
Breath starter
Blessing source
Being’s salvation
Bliss’ sufficiency
Benefits’ showerer
Becoming’s strengthener
Bountifulness’ satisfaction
Genesis 1:28 Praise be to God for His commands for us to:
Bear fruits in His ministry
Bring to Him multiplied service-investments by His might
Bask in His grace-replenishment
Bow to His subduing power
Build up my faith by His miracles’ dominion
Genesis 2:7 Praise be to God for breathing unto our nostrils the breath of life, and granting us everlasting life. Thus, we are now:
Living souls
Liberated spirits
Lively saints
Learning stewards
Listening servants to His instructions
Loving sharers of His Gospel
Led soldiers toward obedience
Genesis 3:21 Praise be to God for clothing us with His:
Salvation-assurance
Sanctification-approval
Satisfaction-affluence
January 1, 2024
The first weakening of night
picks out telephone lines,
black against sky.
The eyelid of a garage door
lurches laboriously up.
A car coughs blue breath.
With aerosols and plastic scrapers
clandestine delights of frostwebs
are raked to chemical sludge.
Starter motors whine.
Windscreens cloud with pain.
Gears grind teeth.
An electric train
gingerly
utters inarticulate from the sheds,
groaning over cold joints.
Thinking grimly
of tunnels ahead,
it flares with ill-humor
crossing the points.
On unworked land beside the track,
a fox is heading home.
Gliding through
beneath the "keep out" sign,
he grins at the engine,
which just judders along,
headlights trained
on parallel lines
which glint ahead,
reflecting lurid signal red,
extending out, but never meeting,
towards the vanishing point.
The focus burns through a paper-thin reality
seared rings smolder,
the laser fixed eye
becomes a fire starter.
You watch that slow burn
as the watcher watches the one who watches.
The foothills of mind catch the tinder, simmer
until lightning strikes flash upon an optic nerve,
a flare of solar plexus radiance
scorches all before it.
A wind is unchained from a giant painting of stillness
it runs through a hallowed valley of spinal awareness
charring the seen
until an exposure takes on the shape
of molten heat.
Now the one who looks
has broken through the tissue of perception.
I am the Latch-Key Kid
When I go home, no tea on the table
I manage to make myself something to eat
The best that I am able
Mum and Dad at work till past eleven
So I just sit and watch TV
When they come home they go to bed
They have no time for me
At eight-thirty in the morning
My dad gives me a lift to school
He tells me to do as I’m told
And not to play the fool
The guy at the desk behind me
Starts kicking my chair leg again
I loudly express my opinion
And I’m rewarded with getting the cane
At lunchtime I sit in the canteen
And open up my lunch box
It contains a curled-up ham sandwich
“Is that all you’ve got” the guy next to me mocks
His lunch box is laden with sandwiches and crisps
And a slice of homemade chocolate cake
I really can’t remember
The last time I saw my mum bake
The school bell rings at three ‘o’ clock
And we all make a mad dash for the door
A bully pushes me over
And I end up on the floor
He looks down at me and says
“Are you going to tell your mam”?
If I stand up I’ll get knocked back down
So I might as well stay where I am
My books and homework are strewn on the floor
And they get trampled underfoot
Before the bully leaves
I get a firm kick in the gut
My school has zero tolerance for bullying
But complaints are not effective
If my parents report an incident
They're accused of being over-protective
Finally I get home
After taking the longer route
The bullies have stolen sweets from a timid new starter
And they’re sharing out their loot
I have my usual meal for tea
A plate of beans on toast
The best meal of my week
Is when mum cooks a Sunday roast
Later as I lay in bed
I hear the front door slam
I listen for the familiar sound
Of dad arguing with mam
Tomorrow is another day
But for me every weekday's the same
I am the latch-key kid
But I know I’m not to blame
Are you as you want it?
First of all
You have to visualize say it out loud
What you want
Whether what you want to do
What you want to take place
How do you want it to be
for you - glorious you
For starter
I want to cook
Do I cook right now?
No - so it would be a milestone for me
An effort
What else do I want?
I want to be financially stable - self sufficient
Debt free
How do I get there?
Do I just sit here and it will happen?
No
I have to make an effort
Of not eating out too much
Of spending too much
Of watching to see where my money goes
And make an effort of keeping it in my bank
It does not have two legs
But it does have two hands - mine
And it’s gone - just like that
I have to think - it’s okay
It can stay there
And not having me feel like I have to spend it
Does anyone have a problem like mine?
No one?
Lol it’s okay
Mine and I am dealing with it
I want to treat people nicer
And not too set in my way
And not be emotionally responsive
Of their needs - and too absorbed in mine
Things do go two ways
Your ways and the other person’s
Both have to be satisfied
Can you ensure that?
Asking myself lol
I want to be socially responsive
It means making more friends and keeping them
Instead of letting go and let it drift apart
Away from me and long gone
before I notice it
Let bygones be bygones
Today is a new day
Promise?
Really? Is that all you are good for? Know your worth!
This is to bring awareness to outside relationships, cheaters, settlers, people who prefer to settle and have relations with someone who is in a relation with another. They do not respect nor care about the damages, affects, or consequences that can result from cheating or having an affair. Whether male or female, it applies to both cases.
If you are knowingly cheating with a married man, you are agreeing to contributing to being a person who administer “Roadside Assistance.” You are called upon when he is “Broke Down,” even if it’s just a minor breakdown. When he is broken, mad, sad, or had a lover’s spat with his wife, he runs to you for assistance and you accept the role as the mechanic. When he is having problems with his starter (yeah his wife), and his starter is acting up, he should make efforts to find out what the problem is and the solution to fix it. That does not mean to go out and get a new starter.
Understand this ladies, he doesn’t really want you, want you, he just needs a lil assistance to temporarily get his mind off the one he truly loves, the one he’ll never leave you for. So let’s say for instance he has a flat, yeah, he’s losing air, he’s got a slow leak, he’s running out of gas, he’s feeling down and he calls you cause he needs assistance. And what do you do when he needs assistance? You assist. You nurture, you cook, you listen, you sex, you pump him up, add fuel to his tank, fix his flat and then he drives home. Yes, home, home to his wife. Your house is not home. Did you think your house was home? Really?
Girl STOP! You are just somewhere he pulled over to the side to get a quick fix, a jump, an oil change, a tune-up…
STOP! JUST STOP! STOP, STOP, STOP!
Stop being on call providing 24 hour Roadside Assistance.
Shake that ssh... off and turn on them headlights, the ones that’s on inside your brain. Change your way of thinking and KNOW your worth!
You are not half of a woman that deserves half of a man. Don’t settle for a piece of man just to say you have a man. You are not no second string, no boo, no side piece, no shorty, no lil chick, no mistress, no fling, no bit..h, no whor$…
YOU ARE AMAZING, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL, YOU ARE A QUEEN and you should be treated as such. You are so much more worthy and deserving of better!