Long Tagged Poems
Long Tagged Poems. Below are the most popular long Tagged by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tagged poems by poem length and keyword.
Ignorant, is not my identity in my struggle for my race.
Damaged, is not my identity by the disparaging arrows flung at me.
Effected, is not my identity to the wickedness of man.
Negligent, is not my identity as a moral human being.
Tattered, is not my identity.
Impatient, is not my identity to the slow walk in my ancestor's shoes.
Transparent, is not my identity.
Yes, it is not my identity to be caught up in the windmills of others' minds.
Ideology, my identity is invested.
Distinguished is my identity in my faith in the almighty God.
Emancipated is my identity from a life of mental oppression and inhibition.
Navigated am I with a strong will to be a part of a struggle for justice.
Tenacity is my identity.
Ignited is my identity blazed in the hope of a change.
Tagged is my identity by the history of my culture.
Youthful optimism is one of the many facets of my identity.
copyright 2016
Colossians 3:15
And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which also ye are called in one body, and be ye thankful.
A cloth tag on my bed disturbs me
So much so that it woke me up from sleep
I prayed that it would go away
In reality it will be there till doomsday
But that's not all
I know the ways of labels
They get their way
Manufacturers protect them
So does the law
It reads as plain as day
“Do Not Remove This Tag Under Penalty of Prosecution
or Persecution”
Some such nonsense…something like that….
It's too much for a simple man like me
I fear authority and prison
But I can't continue with this obnoxious thing
First, I placed a pillow over it
Tags don't need oxygen to breath
Labels are persistent, persevering
Even resolute in their condition to prevail
I could shoot it with a gun
No. That's no good
Smoke and noise don't scare it
Bullets hardly tear it
A relentless dangling appendage to the end remains
Clinging to the ends of beds
Duct tape was next
But I knew that words continued underneath
Also hidden by sheets
The butcher knife would have to do
Savagely removed…blood curdling rips and cuts
I blew a fuse..... My bed is new
No one could refute that now
Now my life is through
I am tagged as a bed label fugitive
Furniture police men hunt me down
I could be executed… or incarcerated
Made to make amends, repairs… or even face the chair
My father was exceedingly
intelligent and well versed
and worldly wise
Despite and inspite of his
humble working class beginnings
and lack of formal education
He used to say education and
common sense are completely
different
Smart people are often said or
are refered to as being well read
But my father was not a great
reader he drew or the source
of his knowledge
Was reading newspapers and
watching the news religiously
So much so he made my mother
tape the news everyday without
fail
But the news he watched is
so far removed from that
is served up to us today
Because the news today has
become weaponised not for
good but for nefarious use
Stealth and entertainment
triumphs over content and factual
non-baised reporting
Not so much a tool for educating
and imparting knowledge trying
to induce thoughtful debate
But rather lecture and tell us
all what we are supposed or
allowed to say and think
Freedom of speech so long as
you agree with us
And god forbid if you disagree
even if you have a valid point
to argue
You will either be cut off
shot down or labelled and
tagged or made a pariah of
Fake news
Stealth agenda
Purveyors of the most
powerful virus in the history
of humanity
Corruption of the mind
via unfettered unregulated
propaganda
I’ve tried out a brand new form
It’s strange and not quite the norm
It’s been tried by two
Now how about you?
It’s honey, so start a swarm!!
Tried by R L and F J
Just let your pen find the way
To bring it some fame
Please join in the game
Try it…now what do you say?
Eileenesque sounds so divine
You need to try out your rhyme
Reverse the quatrain
No, it’s not a pain
Results can be quite sublime!
This is my one shot at fame
I know, it does sound so lame
Make my wish come true
Or I’ll just be blue
My life...will not be the same!!!
I want to thank Richard Lamoureux and F J Thomas for trying out my form. My poem…and the explanation of the form you will find under this title….Revenge’s Reward….Richard’s poem is Word Play….and F J Thomas’ Poem is Life’s Invincible Circle- Eileenesque! YES!!!! I had originally thought each stranza could have a mono-rhyme going on so it would be easier to make that fifth line that is tagged on to each quatrain “fit” but you can compare and contrast and give your own feedback. I’m just tickled pink that these two lovely friends and poets made my…..DAY…WEEK…and MONTH!
(this pastiche promulgated many moons ago from those screaming bloody thirsty headlines from the Italian court for justice sans the brutal homicide attributed to this then American college student and her ex-boyfriend). My gut reaction that zero apr guilt linkedin with lovely looking lass, who may very well bear the burden of culpable guilt for the rest of (what this totally tubular unknown guy no war) a fulfilling life.
with the assiduous vigor of a cadre of volunteers
brought sought after fruition of freedom
per the release of imprisoned young (twenty something) American lass
whose former life sentenced commuted to egress from an Italian jail
to her home within Seattle, Washington
whereby family, friends and strangers who fought for her liberation
breathed one palpable surprising sigh of euphoric relief
when the plane who boarded landed safely on the tarmac of SEATAC
aswarm with frenzied television camera crews
scrambled to get the initial scoop and what promises
to land this once anonymous cell bait
an undisclosed amount of lucre
which many on the other side of the pond
find mind boggling if not downright objectionable
moreso livid with rage
against the Machiavellian machine
on account of supposed culpability in tandem with her then boy friend
accused (under the guise of guilty fiat)
sans homicide of college roommate
now sought after garnering this fawning female
(salaciously tagged by Perugian court with the sobriquet “she wolf”
now faces a future replete with riches aplenty
allowing gravity of ugly epithet plus stigma from accusation of murder
to serve as basis for what will no doubt be a best seller
not to mention made for the silver screen blockbuster
with subsequent royal carpet treatment
to compensate for guilty judgment decreed
without tangible evidence nor fair trial to boot!
Thank you Doris,
for giving me the mic.
I would like to welcome my father,
to our poetry web site.
Mr. Richard Pickett,
Has a talent so sublime.
wisdom within his rhymes,
we've collaborated many times.
You should check him out,
you may come to find.
Intriguing thought provoking,
inspiration...
come,
journey through his mind.
Thank you Doris,
for giving me the mic.
How about dem
BRONCOS!!!
Stuffing the Giants.
on Thanksgiving,
a win like that!
Brian Dawkins
a gift...
Elvis Dumervil, D.J. Williams
finding rifts,
Defense inspired,
the offense clicks.
Yes,
he said
Broncos...
Die-Hard, tattoo on
his right arm.
A stallion,
poetry is my art.
Thank you again,
Doris.
for giving me the mic
I'm glad you
"Went to Jared"
Now I must step aside.
I'm going to call for my
"Sweetheart"
You are next in Line
Linda-Marie Bariana has been tagged for Phyliss Babcocks' "Holiday Tag"
Faces come at me as stricken
as graveyard moons.
The supermarket hangs heavy,
laden as it is with neon anchors.
The aisles are runways for empty eyes,
a few sections contain searching bodies.
She turns to me at the check-out,
she has me tagged;
wine bottles from the mark-down bin
rattle on the moving counter.
She clutches a red plastic pocketbook.
Brown knee-length boots, dimples.
Gold button earrings - worn-out pretty;
hard liquor in soft bottles.
There is just us, and the
shuttling hands of the shop-worker'
She has to talk. "Sorry," she says.
I wonder if I should apologize also?
I think we are just forgiving each other
for being here in an awkward moment,
in the late hour, exposed like this.
Outside, the car park is lifting off
into the night.
A thousand aliens are leaving
to search for salvation.
I can't look at them,
each face is a small moon shining.
PANACEA FOR FREEDOM
Time enclosed in the date numbers
Lies dormant on leaves of calendars
Life revolves around the pressing days
Moves on course in all possible ways.
Routine activities don’t ever stop
For everything has priority tagged top
As the sun rises undesired on Monday
Day’s drab agenda becomes the fray.
Living needs meeting the demands’ call
Though the time’s sands I can’t control
Restive race with their infinite flow begins
It’s not a secret who in the end wins.
Race lost, the week drains out my energy
Turning a squeezed rag I become cagey
Wonder why days don’t grow wings and fly
Take me to the waiting weekend instantly.
The week travels at its own set pace
Gives me trouble for all the music I face
Till the time the tired sun sets on Friday
My next two days no one can take away.
Days can never turn into birds surely
But Friday brings to me time to fly free
This day acts like a panacea for me
I can decide what and where I want to be.
February 24, 2018
A promise born, a life designed,
To emancipate, to break the bind.
But fate dealt blows, parents passed away,
Leaving her to shadows, in a world astray.
She sells her body, a living corpse,
A pretty face, a paradise sepulcher, a tragic force.
Uncertainty looms, her future unsure,
A womb evacuated, her soul obscure.
Loneliness creeps, a dejected soul,
Yearning for companionship, a heart that's whole.
"I need a child," she cries, "who'll stand by me?"
But all have fled, fearing disease's decree.
Meanwhile, he seeks to blend, to chill with the bold,
A "Jogolo" tagged, making women happy, but growing old.
He dupes and uses, but ends up used and worn,
A walking corpse, his life misled, his future torn.
Both lost, both alone, both searching for more,
Their lives a testament to the choices they've explored.
Yet, in desperation, she looks up to the skies,
Her maker stretches His hands, a rescue surprise.
"Inhaling the sea -- Lovers in the lap of
nature"
Inhaling the sea,
She primed my heart!!
Early morning going onto the sea bed,
My chubby cheeks blushed in red.
Inhaling the breeze, felt so fresh,
By that time, Remembered my Longlasting
mesh.
That salubrious weather, those scenic
charm,
Wanted you to be forever in my glorious
arm.
Ravishing beauty kept my eyes off.
In this pictersque environment,
Everything all around was happening.
Yes, This was the place where l wed.
Inhaling the sea, feelings came out from
the deep space of my heart.
This is the place where diara and I met for
the first time.
She primed my heart.
Embedded mountains, Turquoise blue
lake,
Don't want to be under impression which
was fake.
Ocean of dreams I had,
But she don't entertained me that was
sad.
But still, She was the Queen of hills of my
heart.
Morning exercise was only the reason,
Meeting each other every season.
Waves reached to its height,
She use to hug me tight.
With the rising sun and falling sunrise.
Holding her from her back,
Beyond imagination, carried precious
moments in my sack.
Trying to cope up long miles of
relationship.
Friction in my soul, asked me to commit
for marriage.
Emotionally connecting the extreme ends.
Feelings of each other bloomed.
Hugging her, strings of heart played in
beats.
Felt so blessed, gave me a feeling of
stardom.
Twilight walk on sea beach,
Soft rays of sun,
Filling empty heart with joy.
Sweetness of breeze,
Blueness of sky.
Wide flowing beach,
Along with a pretty attractive beauty in
peach.
Ohhh my icy sugar, You melt my heart.
In an eternal winter,
Frozen soul wrapped each other.
God blessed and she tagged me as her
kite runner.
Ohhh my Frankastein, I have got dipped in
you.
Red sky view, Flying colour of sun and
relaxed mind,
Stunning beauty, I am sinked in your
lovely eyes.
Best splendid moments I had being with
you.
Holding your hand had made a peace and
harmony of our feeling.
Yes inhaling the sea,
She primed my heart!!
By Madhavi