Long Sticks and stones Poems

Long Sticks and stones Poems. Below are the most popular long Sticks and stones by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sticks and stones poems by poem length and keyword.


Imagery

I climb to the top of the Eiffel tower to catch the remnant of hope gliding through the skies in a bolt of lightning as it circles the three hundred- and thirty-meters pinnacle standing bravely on the hill singing songs of redemption.  

I have been longing to get there because I have something romantic to share, it was you I saw sitting in a golden chair with a diamond ring on your finger and golden septage in your hand. 

 You had gifts all around you and long line of people were waiting to see you and the people from Babylon walking by saluting and bowing in front of you. 

It seems like yesterday they rolled the curtain away and you came out without a thought or doubt, but the villagers began to shout. 

 They marched in the village with sticks and stones calling on the woman of Samaria to turn around or they would send the tanker man to blow up the town.

 She didn’t take it seriously until she got hit in the face and ended up with broken finger and domestic disgrace, forcing her to pull back into herself as the weapon of death wheeled over her head. 

 It causes her to lose some precious vote and while she was out everyone start to shout, the river monkey and the Pentecostal valedictory but the Methodist honorary showed compassion and did not voice their opinion. Pope Francois was in on it too. But his persuasion was not strong to take down the giant man. 

The live imagery was so profound of everyone you meet in the town. They smile in front of you and tear your garments behind you and when they are done, they hang it on a stick and place it on top of the Eifel tower in the sun. 

We live in two separate worlds, one inside of me and the other outside of you, but it feels like you are right here besides me.

 I can hear you all the time but you mask your voice underneath the vine and at nights when I take a nap you play tick tack toe underneath my frock but I pretend to sleep on to prevent altercation on the land. The image is always there it comes and disappears.  

I am going on the hill to meet with the daffodil; I will minister to its soul and make its body whole. I will heal its painful allergy and when I wave my hands over its face, it will remove all the disgrace and dry up all the allergies. 

The daffodils will smile again from the virtue of my healing hands, so come and help me to sing this beautiful song.
Form: Narrative


Submissive Affection - Not

Your thoughtless talking 
Got me running and walking
Our reflection of cyber-sensation is not genuine
You're playing with my feelings and head now...that's mean...
Where have you been?
I have lost you...once again...
How can I forgive you, boo,
When we can't see face to face?
Searching all over for you too
Am I just this overwhelming disgrace? 

Oh, What now?
Ah, now what?

You have taken me on levels of frustration...I weep sleep in awake agitation 
Watching the process of abuse over the years
Shallow swimmer, shadows out if the closet of velvet hesitation 
You and I together drives me in bittersweet tears
In instant return,
I get your rejection reflection
I internally burn
Not involved in your life of successful intervention....
Oh no, not anymore...
Hurt alone to the core...
I shed my blood of hate for our love on my own
And, in your eyes, I'm a pitiful fool and the aftershocks of your actions had made it known and let it be shown...I don't care, I'd rather bleed in the inside alone...
Alone, I will probably be...
Not alone, you're so free...

Your senseless subjection 
Of my submissive affection 

It astonishes me...
Mmmmm
Wholeheartedly
Mmmmm
It vanishes vainly...
Ahhhhhh
Unfortunately...
Ahhhhhh 
Yet, fortunately...
Ah, oh so wistfully
It is incredibly of envy...
I have lived to witness momentarily...
Fair or not, I love who I want to...sorry, but not sorry

Suffocated by the overwhelming elevation you sent me from miles away
You're dominant to my passion-whelmed mind's eye I can't deny or even mutter a lie
Underrated and hated by the society that wants beauty without flaws, but I'm not that sun-shining day in California some even think or say
You're recessive to my heart's main focus and its target is what's truly in your heart of sticks and stones...is it of vibrant skies or of underground goodbye's, wrapped on in ribbons of why-do-I-even-try?

I'm not here to impress,
I'm here to, well, express
What's in my young heart
I know it's not a perfect masterpiece from the start 
But I tried my best
To pass life's test
Here I am today, trying to tell the rest
That a cute poet, like a headstrong athlete, needs a good night's rest

Our love is like east to west...
Sorry, friend, but I won't detest 
You and all you do for me
I am a land of captivity and you the sea of Liberty
Form: Verse

Skeletal Remains Iii

Here & there, everywhere 
lie pieces & parts of me
I exist only in the moments between what is and will be…

Taking a ride to the minimart... 
Enjoy the passing lands...
...watching the sun playing on the warm sands. 
These are fragments of imagery; memory. 

Notes to a past life through a Childs looking glass
Sticks and stones blocks and collecting rocks tug of war, 
Cowboys, and Indians and don’t forget monsters and such…

These are the fragments of thought here, there, and everywhere.

Lie the secrets of these skeletal remains, My moral refrain…

The life intertwined; a shard of crazy cracked glass, 
door knobs made of brass, 
firelight camping at night jumping at strange sites…

These are the fragments of me, my history!

Laughing like a loon to the break of noon, 
staring at the lights of stars far, far above blazing from millenniums ago…

Fragments of things seen, known n believed!

Ghost stories and hot chocolate, jack o lanterns and witches scream,
these are what memories are made of, here and there lie these mortal remains…

This is all that is or will be again, faded memories pasted 
into this tired and ruined frame, a scrapbook of imagery.

Posted deep into the past, pasted together from my fragments.
...together with collected things: Midnight in backyards, playing cards, broken toys, dog-eared books, quiet metronomes, and black rooks…

Moments lost once more, 
so off to neverlands of distant mystery, 
the vibrations die from the distant bell, 
as echoes of jingle bells and carols 
fall silent on a snowy evening…

The ticks of a cooling car on a winter night, the tocks of old clocks in grandfather's home, where shadows roam...

This is where I find the fragments of my time, 
as I dig through my skeletal remains, 
its parts fall on obscure shores 
of distant histories…

Thunder and rain, 
fears of war, 
inner eyes cloud, 
different thoughts crowd 
like snow drifting in empty rooms.

Sun-rays fall as the wind plays, 
dancing on my summer planes 
these images are lost 
in dusty folded faded photographs…

Define in my skeletal remains, 
my bones barely seek human form, 
they remember the pieces n parts of my existence, 
as only anything can, 

here & there & everywhere, 

I am left picking up my skeletal remains...

Do I Cast An Aura of Dark Energy

Written with admiration for Tom Cunningham ~ a gentle poet
maligned by one who really casts an aura of darkness


My smile is genuine and reaches to my eyes.
I do not wear a mask, nor a cloak of disguise
and I post poetry in my given Christian name.
From the hand of one it was written in a claim
that I cast shadows of dark energy around me.
Should I assume that I'm thought of as beastly?

Someone thinks that my spirit has gone awry.
I have to shake my head in disbelief as I decry,
"If you liken me to a sinister, malevolent being
I would ask what movies have you been seeing?"
Call me rude names if that makes you feel witty,
but each shines a gleaming light on your lubricity.

I'm not insulted by the sticks and stones thrown,
nor do I write anything that I would ever bemoan.
I will champion myself, my friends and my nation,
never seeking battle, nor in fear of confrontation.
I am not a troll, a gang member, or wolf in a pack,
so don't falsely accuse me. I won't take your flack.

There is no darkness surrounding my aura, I'm sure.
It may be that your malicious thoughts are impure.
You struggle with defining what's right from wrong.
Is there anyone with whom you can get along?
Friendships are important and you would be wise
to recall that poets should be a coalition of allies.

You're entitled to your opinions, and I am to mine,
but if they are different, don't moo like a bovine.
"Spiteful words," you said, my friends and I write.
Well, in this case I'll say you're absolutely right.
I've been told that rebuttals are a waste of my ink
but not a drop is wasted if it makes people think.

Think of the insult to a poet belittled by another.
One who treats everyone as a sister and brother.
Tom wrote of the bloodbath Putin draws in Ukraine
then selfish comments were made that left a stain
on his words that were written to ring out in truth.
Don't sling mud on other poet's by throwing a stone.
Give voice to your beliefs. Write one of your own.

And now, you're thinking, "You just slung mud."
Yes, I did, in hopes that it will land with a thud.
I don't relish penning negative lines of contention,
but sometimes things are in need of attention.
I'd rather write about Santa and Christmas cheer,
than calling out snide people who taunt and jeer.
Form: Rhyme

The Modern Cause

I don’t start off thinking it’s a priority to insult 
so if you end up offended it’s probably your fault 

opinions can be devisive 
one will speak and another won’t like it 
offensive views are realised 
Someone’s mental state is in a crisis 

Start throwing sticks and stones 
Hire a wolf to blow down homes 
Easily offended and always prone 
vacated adults who like to moan 

We live in a world of victim mentality 
grouped together in a cause for humanity 
those historical tales filled with the brutality 
though not our experience or actuality 

as a white man I’m supposed to have it easy 
the call for equality means no one sees me 
because I cannot call on some ancient history 
when I had the advantage in a previous century 

A single man isn’t given a house to live in 
that the same man with children would be given 
raising kids on benefits who don’t make a living 
and yet no one cares if single men are driven 

When girls become pregnant they are given homes 
A gifted blessing though the father’s unknown 
while these single men must survive on their own 
and they say equality favours the man alone 

Men disagree and the situation turns physical 
women disagree and spread tales that ridicule 
so what if  men and women are disagreeable 
advantage to the female practiced at cynical 

Because men don’t play mind games with men 
it’s just too much effort to ever waste on them 
whereas women play these games over again 
the opposite gender that males can’t threaten

so LGBT and women are historically lesser 
and we must respect Black Lives Matter 
in a white mans world white men are better 
though at a disadvantage if they ain’t clever 

In todays world the cause gets prioritised 
at the piles base every white man alive 
the message we bully and must step aside 
making up for history before we were alive 

And yet we are not victims and are not offended 
I guess my grandfather lived a life most splendid 
and my generation are now expected to mend it 
in a white mans world that must be defended 

Don’t ever forget just who built this city 
with the sections of it now demanding pity 
who have equal rights and the same opportunities 
you should reap the rewards not focus on scrutiny
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Sticks and Stones

Donald John,
I'm troubled by how you describe
your detractors,
Those who stubbornly refuse to see you
as Earth's Messianic Protagonist
and Good WarMongering Business Guru.

For example?

Fake
Not quality
Coward
Elitist
Not Truly Elite
Poor
Traitor
Unclean
Unmanly
Jealous
Loser
Alien
Whiner
Cripple
Parasite
Not SuperElite
Need I go on?

No. Those sound familiar
as bullying words
used against me
when I was even younger
and not yet well-endowed.

Do you think,
now that you are the USA's
four to eight year CEO,
It might be safe
to turn these internal bullying voices off
by turning your non-violent communication skills on?

I wasn't aware
I have such skills
for WinWin
Both/And dipolar comparison and cooperation
rather than WinLose bicameral competitions.

Imagine RightBrain cooperatively-owned
sacred ecological real estate
but also secular WinWin Yang assertive integrity
organically fueled by matriarchal WiseElder
yin-nurturing
non-violent surprises
of post millennial womb rebirth

Heading toward 2020
multicultural non-violent communication norms
for economic and political BothLeft-AndRight 
WinWin outcomes

Born of polycultural experience
polypathic memory
polyphonic harmony
polynomial revolutions
inviting us to change our competitive bullying voices
into cooperative capital-investing ZeroZone
pro-democracy choices
for
and of
and with
and by
and through EarthGreen Rights

Are not best said
with LeftBrain bullying redmeat word-choices
for those who respectfully
and maturely
and patriotically/matriotically
EarthRights disagree
that a multicultural healthy democracy
should ever be a weapon
for economic colonizing
bullying non-elites

Yet cooperatively agree
our greatest wealth
is found in vocational tools
for global ecological/theological creolization
of integrity's co-arising
PositivEnergy Democracy

Paradise Green/RedHearted
resurrecting ZeroSoul
HolySpirit-HolonicNature revolution
of true liberty's Great Creolizing Promise.

I'm often troubled by how I describe
my DonaldJohn detractors,
BananaHeads who stubbornly refuse to see me
as Earth's WinWin Protagonist
and Good GreenTherapeutic CoInvesting Guru.

Make No Bones About It

Bony bona fide bones bare bones                                                                                 
Skeleton key turning a bone of contention                                                                     
Sticks and stones break bones words do hurt close to the bone                                          
Not so funny hitting funny bone hard words break no bones                                            
Depends who is speaking old school don’t be an idle bonehead                                          
Be like dog with a bone gnawing it till tomorrow                                                                
His word a fire in my bone true to the bone envy is rottenness                                           
To the bone a broken spirit driest the bone don’t be chilled to the bone                         
Pleasant words health to the bone so bones may rejoice                                            
Working fingers to the bone be not wise in thine                                                             
Own sight fear the Lord depart from evil a bone to pick                                                  
Dead man’s chest be not filled with dead men’s bones                                                 
Prophecy to bones dem dem bones come together again                                                  
Look to the cross not to skull and bones crossed bones                                                  
Playing bones Yo ho ho Rome’s smoked filled bottle                                                           
They grind bones to make their bread who Jesus has freed                                             
Don’t point that bonier finger but back in the closet                                                         
Not a bone was broken as he died for our sins                                                                 
Or you may be a bag of bones chilled to the bone                                                        
Being bone dry baring your own sin upon your bones                                                         
He is bone of my bone empty tomb make no bones about it
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.

Day

The sun rises where it pleases and sets where it is destined to go
And there is nothing that you can do about it for nature knows which way the water flows and where the sunlight glows
 and when the people join the line and the rain come suddenly and wet the earth’s appetite the moon and the stars will dance in the sky before the asteroid   falls to the earth and die.

Here I  am sitting  on this rock reminiscing all the blessing that America has got, it was not founded upon the sea or on the oracle of Noah and the mysterious  golden ark or men struggling in the dark, nor the fountain on which mad men prevail.

America was founded on the blood of innocent men and women, 
that fought with sticks and stones, swords and weapon and tarry day and night to conquer the blood stain land upon which the American dream  stands.

Millions fought for it and thousands died for it; and when the north and the south were in doubt and the people began to shout, they settle the matter in the open plot with swords stuck in the ground, until the miracle is found.  

We have opened our heart to everyone and dedicate our land to the fallen ones, we have invited strangers to come along, but you have sunken your teeth in our children’s flesh and if it wasn’t for mercy you would have strangled them to death and when the nights are cold you run errands to crucify our soul.

We open our border for you to come but you brought the multitude to sing a different song, they start living above their means and so they stifle the American dreams, I will lay the cards on the table once more and open the doors for those that will protect our shores, they too will have a story of how love for our country catapult them to glory.

Here I am on this day, looking far away hoping that good things will come our way, and everyone will meet in their different groups to settle the score and throw the devils through the door. Our foundation is still strong and we will continue to fight to defend our land for this is where our destiny stands.

Keep this day close to your heart and it will remind you of the distance you came and your life will never be the same.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member My Resolutions Contribution

"I don't call them New Year's Resolutions. I prefer the term: 
Casual Promises to myself that I am under no legal obligation
to fulfill."                                                    ~ jamonkey.com

I've given thought, after a titch of consideration,
to make New Year's resolutions... such a vexation
I hesitated to do so without serious contemplation
because quite often I'm led astray by temptation

I will write better poetry to post on the Soup
Be more productive among my peer group
Mind my own business, on others I won't snoop
But won't swear not to write limericks about poop.

I will waive my penchant for chocolate... well, maybe
That will be the most difficult resolution to keep for me
I vow to give up margaritas and switch to sweet tea
And I'll put it all in writing. I'll even sign that decree!

I will not let sticks and stones break my bones
I'll just blame it on an imbalance of her hormones
Or on a guy who acts like one of the Flintstones
Maybe on a plethora of a million other unknowns

I will forgive anyone who screams at me in rants
I will not respond like there are ants in my pants
I seriously promise that I will give peace a chance
Smoke a peace pipe instead of doing a war dance

I will consider it a compliment to be called 'mean girl'
By anyone who derogatorily behaves like a churl
I'll have more patience, so my temper doesn't unfurl
And smile more often. I'll give that thought a whirl

I will make it a definite priority as one of my goals
To walk away from bullies and persnickety trolls
Wooly wolves who pretend to be sheep in their roles
But who expose themselves as taunting buttholes

I am determined to start eating much healthier food
knowing it's a required taste that I've not yet accrued
I believe I will enjoy life more with a positive attitude
And ignore negative folks who like practicing turpitude

I will do my utmost best not to break one resolution
But if I do, I must supplicate for leniency and absolution
I'll not give up a resolution without making a substitution
If you see me cheating, take my chocolate as retribution
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Elected Rejected

Discrediting plausibility 
by shredding their humility 
to a place of vulnerability 
devoured by inabilities 
cowardice incompetence 
showered into consciousness 
empowered causing confidence 
validation found in compliments 
a false sense of accomplishment 
resort to intense punishment 
to knock down their competitors 
who speak of truth not metaphors 
that could reverse their actual course 
see them falling through floorboards 
far from craved credited applause 
a status low as though blackballed 
on salaries always needing more 
survival gifting no rewards 
a personality to be ignored 
social skills which leave them bored 
testing humans to their core 
needing a win but cannot score 
electrical without a cord 
no plug socket or power source 
as management you were assured 
entitlement had power stored 
defensive walls they reinforced 
the canon fire rains then pours 
constant drainage of resource
when liars reign without remorse 
demonstrate through acts of war 
axing allies no friends of yours 
switching sides ending support 
backtracking and invasions fall 
forward thinking backward thoughts 
two faced fronts fights are fought
defend positions within the fort 
saving supply routes to the port 
lowered standards poor results 
lose respect face the onslaught 
enclosing can’t escape assaults
laced with disgrace of dense insults
unsatisfactory falling short 
the cost of power steeply soars 
run out of bullets fight with swords 
sticks and stones not canon balls 
back to basics of infant schools 
learning how the mighty fall 
turns out you might be a fool 
from the authority you adore 
to unemployed and lost it all 
from big and powerful to small 
once important not anymore 
once arrogant above the law 
apparently now unloveable
a tyrant silenced by rivals 
the outlaw downfall locked indoors 
freedom within the prison walls 
abusing boundaries horribly 
so far beyond authority 
explicitly and vicously 
fully of inefficiency 
faults and inability 
soulless animosity 
dethroned without the sovereignty 
lost lonely in unpopularity.
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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