Long Strong minded Poems
Long Strong minded Poems. Below are the most popular long Strong minded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Strong minded poems by poem length and keyword.
He enters the neighborhood bitter
from cold cases old grudges and gripes
his musty breath is shallow stone cold
coming from his angry nostrils transferred
yet again for bad behavior after sucking
the life out of another non suspecting poor
individual while suspended to the desk duties
for a few months he lay in waiting creating slander
perpetrating falsehoods for the weak the helpless
the vulnerable homeless the disabled the injured
veterans families down on their luck he's mastered
the boroughs villages canals valley's street corners
and hills throughout the city children run from his
thumping hoofs craving blood sweat and tears
of urban survivors holding on by mere threads
praying for spiritual guidance redemption from
this evil hoping for strong minded individuals
to somehow provide ethical support leadership
crumbles rams locking horns while performing their
civic duties of washing the scum off the streets
when instead Mr excessive force organized brutality
home invasions intimidation fear corruption
abuse of power rises about the small towns
of little people whose cries are never heard
until a sudden riot approaching engulfing a city
the watchers always look on in disbelief as the flames
crawl block for block windows smashed glass shatters
into a million pieces reflecting the eyes of despair
graffiti begins to cover store fronts meanwhile
friendly fire explodes sifting through reasoning
remorse the crying kind Danny boy oh boy oh boy
a quiet calm cease to behold a sullen peace
the trying time beckoning the emptiest eyes
malice unfolds first responders are grieving
as Mr excessive force is now leaving
"I have built my foundation with life's bricks;
I exist. I am me. And that has been enough. "
Quote by_ Constance
My character traits define who I am,
both inherited morals and life lessons taught;
translating me is like an anagram !
Best, I be good because ... I only get one shot;
but, will not pretend that my life is Camelot.
Trustworthy, honest, respectful and kind,
always polite, friendly, grateful, open-minded;
lover of nature ... animals inclined !
I am proud, brave, courageous and worldly-minded;
though calm, tranquil and peaceful, I am strong-minded.
I am a dependable loyal friend,
always reliable, encouraging, sincere;
never, ever will I lie or pretend !
But, I will not claim to have no flaws ... lets be clear;
and am not afraid to share them with a sad tear.
I wear my grief like a heavy dark cloak,
and get hurt easily ... often melancholy;
cruel life will often leave me heart broke !
Though sad emotions my colors are not palely
and I am soon back on life's fast moving trolley
___________________
May 10, 2023
Poetry/Quintain(English)/Who I Am
Copyright Protected, ID 05-1546-359-10
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Being average is not enough for a reward,
resolve to do better and be a champion...
someone moving forward, not going backward;
keep your focus on resolution, don't lose direction.
If I had done that, I would have a fewer regrets,
been more confident and enjoyed life more as the true achievers;
are the deligent ones ever influenced by dissidence?
No, they're strong-minded and take great risks without dilemmas!
I would have been much happier, stronger and healthier,
if I had diverged and taken another path...
by not listening to those voices of dissuasion that
increased my distraught, throwing me into disorder.
I have learned as others have and defeating my plans,
I conquered nobody or nothing and nearly ceased to exist...
I couldn't give or feel joy as my outlook on life was the worst;
today, I'm resolving to do better by not forfeiting my chances.
I speak of a mind made of iron by grace,
Not sharpened for ruin, nor bent toward dread,
But tempered in fire that mercy has made,
Its sigil of good on the thoughts it has fed.
For dreams—ah, the dreams that the gentle mind keeps,
Are not of the crypt nor the raven’s despair,
But of luminous valleys where conscience still sleeps
In the hush of a dawn that is faithful and fair.
The people are there, and the land is there too,
And the sky—how it arches in midnight’s deep blue;
We all see that firmament, distant yet near,
One vault over sorrow, one silence sincere.
It is Sunday morning somewhere on Earth,
Where bells or birds mark a moment of birth;
Where living is loving, though once it may be,
Yet once is eternity, if given freely.
Love is the child that the bright spirit made,
Born not of shadow, nor ever afraid;
A light that the strong-minded dare to employ—
Not to conquer the world, but to keep it from void.
So guard thou the mind, let its rigor be kind,
Let its power be chosen for good, well-aligned;
For the soul that loves rightly, though darkness be near,
Makes a dawn in the night that even Paul might revere.
Tattle cries are just as loud as battle cries,
but the difference is
tears from mannequins dry on untouchable skin.
You may have a purpose, but your attempt at a movement
is motionless because your passion
is a carefully constructed image
replicated in a false ideology
that manifests into something specific
obtaining a manual manipulation.
A self servant visibility is indicative
of an egocentric personality and everything insinuated
to be perceptually believed as sacred
usually doesn't leave further than the tapping of your fingers.
You proselytize by regurgitating the ways
of a preferred deity and establish yourself
by turning your mirror to reflect the angle
of how you want to be seen and adjust your thoughts
for a higher seat in your vanity
in order to possess everything in your hypocrisy.
The feedback you get initiates a sedimentary mask
you proudly wear and give a name to because
as a statuesque representative in an upscale consumption
of physical and mindful gluttony,
it is the exemplary rock to inscribe your identity.
You disguise it as spirituality, enlightenment, or awareness
labeling it as politics, religion, parenting, racism,
abortion, extortion, activism, or sexism.
It does not, in anyway, alleviate
the struggling strong minded from with holding their weeps
on garments bled by friends in unsung tongues and private sin,
in time well spent where the secrets
of the heart are kept for keeps rather than exposed and disposed of
in a widespread generic documentary
for the world to see the effects of their warfare.
Where words of vulnerability and exposed nerves
are perceived as nothing but memes and black sheep
trying to be shepherds making lists of things
to better humanity in articles utilized by a machine.
As if the top ten life hacks will take neglcted children
out of the slums of a poor shack
and stop the hateful attacks on those who need welfare.
The bandaging by labeling and over medicating
will not eradicate the urgent need for eye to eye,
flesh to flesh, heart to heart
laughing, kind, grateful, melting of this
plastic society.
"I have built my foundation with life's bricks;
I exist. I am me. And that has been enough. "
Quote by_ Constance
My character traits define who I am,
both inherited morals and life lessons taught;
translating me is like an anagram !
Best, I be good because ... I only get one shot;
but, will not pretend that my life is Camelot.
Trustworthy, honest, respectful and kind,
always polite, friendly, grateful, open-minded;
lover of nature ... animals inclined !
I am proud, brave, courageous and worldly-minded;
though calm, tranquil and peaceful, I am strong-minded.
I am a dependable loyal friend,
always reliable, encouraging, sincere;
never, ever will I lie or pretend !
But, I will not claim to have no flaws ... lets be clear;
and am not afraid to share them with a sad tear.
I wear my grief like a heavy dark cloak,
and get hurt easily ... often melancholy;
cruel life will often leave me heart broke !
Though sad emotions my colors are not palely
and I am soon back on life's fast moving trolley
___________________
April 20, 2023
Poetry/Rhyme/Who I Am
Copyright Protected, 04-4791-786-20
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
ALL TYPES OF GIFTS GIVEN
COOKING, ORGANIZING
GIFT MAKING, EVENT PLANNING
SINGING, WRITING GOSPEL SONGS
FASHION SHOPPER, A DESIGNER
ARTWORK, A PASSION IN REAL ESTATE
TALENTED ENDLESS, EVERLASTING
A TRAVELER.
WHERE TO BEGIN
FROM THE FINISH TO THE END?
ENTREPRENEURSHIP, LEADERSHIP, MISSIONARY WORKER TOO
GIVING BACK TO THE COMMUNITY
DESTINATION HAS FOUND YOU.
TALENTS AND GIFTS
ALL WRAPPED AND LIFTED
CREATIVITY IN MANY
A FOUNDER
A MOTHER
A GRAND-MOTHER TOO
A GIVER
INSPIRING
A GREAT STRONG SURVIVOR
A BLACK WOMAN OF DESTINY
POWERFUL, STRONG MINDED
CHEERFUL, AND KIND
NON-SELFISH
UNDERSTANDING
A STRONG WILL MIND.
NOT HIDDEN
FULL FIGURED
REVEALED
UNSEALED.
I wanted him to be a scientist.
He did not want that; he was willful and stubborn.
So, I let my dream go, but I was angry.
She wanted to become a doctor.
I discouraged this because of all the schooling involved.
She became a doctor in spite of my objections.
My third child was not willful or strong-minded.
She asked me what she should be.
I made many suggestions.
She said no to all of them.
I finally asked her what she wanted to be.
She wanted to be a U-tuber, and an influencer.
She has been working on this for six years now.
She lives at home in our basement.
She makes about twenty-five dollars a week.
She is happy, but she can never support herself.
We may have made a mistake with this one.
But at least we have someone to feed our dog when we are on vacation.
I Love My Life
I love my life , it’s only right.
I struggle and have to fight.
I have not deviated slight.
As needed I work day and night.
I choose my life in joy and rue.
‘Cause I can’t live your life for you.
I’m decisive, hold my view.
No way, I am to bid adieu.
I wish to fly in open sky.
Me, righteous, never to sigh.
I’m satisfied feeling high !
I’m strong minded and hate to cry.
In my ship Me the only crew.
Me lone fighter, really true.
Own aim ! I always pursue.
‘Cause I found out just what to do.
Going on a cruise to Pirate Island where women rule.
The men have been taken prisoner where they eat gruel.
They are looking for a pirate queen, a strong minded wench.
I speak Spanish, and I eat my toast and fries in French.
Pirate Island is just around the next bend, matey.
I am glad I finally get to go, before I’m eighty.
There are banners all over that shout out women’s names.
I tear them down as soon as we land. Not playing their games.
The women are wearing black patches and wooden pegs.
I scoff at their lack of imagination which are in the dregs.
I jump out of the boat with my knife and machete.
Challenging them all because I am ripe, and I’m ready.
There is screaming and shouting and they begin to run hard.
I start singing my praises, in songs, for I am a ridiculous bard.
The men yell out of their cages that they think I should be queen.
I throw buckets of tar on them to show them I can be truly mean.
My trusty dragon steed Chester begins twirling up the beach on the sand.
My female relatives begin playing jazz, sounding like a mariachi band.
Pretty soon the other women throw their banners into the sea.
The uncontested evil queen of Pirate Island is once again me.