Long Talent Poems
Long Talent Poems. Below are the most popular long Talent by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Talent poems by poem length and keyword.
How many grave sites should be prepared for me?
Just one. For Robert Johnson, there were three,
all in the Mississippi Delta: Morgan City, Quito,
and (near) Greenwood. Which is right? Do we KNOW?
Those who have taken the time to do research
believe Little Zion Missionary Baptist Church
near Greenwood is most likely. At age 27, in 1938,
he died near that town--so young, with talent so great.
In the early 1900’s, this youngster’s genius was unfurled.
As blues singer, guitarist, and lyricist, he gifted the world
with recordings exhibiting style that has been admired
widely and emulated by popular performers who aspired
to greater fame. They achieved the kudos they desired.
Muddy Waters, Bob Dylan, and Chuck Berry are among those
influenced by his style. Every admirer who knows
the legend that ambition drove Johnson to sell his soul
to the Devil for greater talent would surely say his goal
was reached without Old Scratch playing a role.
What caused the death of the “Cross Road Blues”
and “Sweet Home Chicago” performer? There are clues
centering around his unbridled boozing and womanizing.
Did a jealous husband poison his whiskey upon realizing
a flirtation or worse, just as Johnson's star was rising?
Or did he die of syphilis? These stories floated around,
and others. Thirty years later, a death certificate was found,
stating no cause of death. Some facts, we may never know.
It IS known that this musical master's climb to fame was slow.
It's nothing new that, after death, renown may grow.
Johnson's posthumous claim to fame is no big mystery.
Beginning in the nineteen sixties, the world would see
a surge of interest in his music. To Eric Clapton, he seems
"The most important blues singer that ever lived." Teams
of researchers have tried to capture his life and dreams.
King of the Delta Blues Singers, a collection of his best,
was produced by Columbia in 1961. Writers faced a test:
dealing with conflicts and gaps in accounts while collecting
information for biographies and films. While "connecting
the dots," they learned that sources require dissecting.
Death, no respecter of talent or youth, is bold,
stalking and striking down rich or poor, young or old.
Mysteries of life and death often remain unsolved,
though diligent research may be involved.
I need a new TV stand
So I searched for one on Google,
Deciding in advance that I
Would splurge and not be frugal.
I bounced from site to site before
I found one so ideal,
In every way it fit the bill –
Too perfect to be real.
My gut reaction was the truth,
My quest to no avail;
Though it was beyond compare,
It just wasn’t up for sale.
See, a craftsman who’s a novice
With a talent for design
Did construct just what I wanted,
But it’s his instead of mine.
It was posted on the website
Of a woodwork magazine,
Which the Google team decided
Should appear upon my screen.
Oh, to find and lose an item
So much better than the rest
Means that now I’ll have to settle
For what’s clearly second best.
So easy
The words must flow without delay.
A writer’s block must be kept at bay,
By constant thoughts and creative work.
When the page is blank, you must find the words.
If you lose your faith in the fact you have talent,
You cannot just give up on opportunity, you must grab it;
For now is your time to seize the day,
For tomorrow will always be too late.
If you procrastinate, you will do nothing.
If you try; what more could you possibly give?
You can only do your best and if you do find the right words,
Then in the end you will have succeeded.
With empty thoughts and a head without,
Just write something, anything and the good will out.
If you begin, then you will see,
That you can accomplish meaning.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
If I could choose a form most grand,
A creature of a noble brand,
My secret wish, a silent plea,
Would lead me a smart cat to be.
A cat of humour, quick and sly,
With mischief glinting in my eye,
To my shrewd master, wise and bold,
Scented stories I would unfold.
I would purr a cute rumbling sound
As wisdom on each whiskered mound,
A gentle nudge, a velvet paw,
To pat my master soft and low.
I would leap on the highest shelf,
A king unto myself, by myself
And survey all with knowing eyes
Above my master`s lovely ties.
I'd greet him with a gentle rub
Expecting that he would not snub
And with soft head butt on his knee
Then curl up in his lap, quite free.
I'd teach him patience, slow and deep,
The talent of secrets to keep,
The quiet joy of watching birds,
Beyond the reach of human words.
I won`t wait for my master`s cue
To chase mice, old as well as new,
And with a flick of my striped tail,
I’d ensure my spirit doesn`t fail.
I'd practice my best funny face
Embracing every charming grace,
A wide-eyed stare, a goofy yawn
From dusk until the break of dawn.
I`d let my fantasy take flight
To charm my master, day and night,
A cat of laughter, wise and kind,
The truest solace one can find.
The talent of this England team
Will overcome the rest
Because the players on display
Are simply the best.
James our keeper will save every shot
He's experienced and so cool
Glen Johnson and Ashley Cole
The defence they both will rule.
John Terry solid as a rock
With King at his side
While Lennon and Joe Cole
Control the play out wide.
The creative skill of Lampard
And captain Gerrard too
Will create a hole in any defence
No matter what they do.
Peter Crouch up front is so tall
He reminds me of a Giraffe
When he scores and does that dance
He really makes me laugh.
Wayne Rooney wow what can I say
The best of the best
He's like a little bulldog
With three lions on his chest.
Our manager Fabio Capello
A master of the game
If we don't bring back the cup
We're only ourselves to blame.
everyday is a blessing a chance to
start fresh
so i live for the moment till there is
no moment left
hoping tomorrow god sees fit 2
open my eyes again
let me breathe another breath while
getting it in
yet another adventure to unfold
another story to tell
another poem or song to write with
hopes of living well
to be an artist is cool i just express
my truest feelings
while letting the world know with
what pain i am dealing
the struggles i endure from this life
that i lead
wondering day by day how to
provide for my seed
no job my talent can only get me so
far
so i do what i gotta out here chasing
these stars
trying to see where they lead me i'm
wanting to know
after i bend this next corner which
way should i go
I could look at this painting
forever, oh Klimt was a talent!
Lake side with birch trees is where I would like to be,
beside the dappled blue still water . . .
I would pick yellow buttercups,
bluebells and purple larkspur growing wild, oh beautiful;
Oh dream,
so sublime.
Klimt has taken me away
to a serene place in my mind.
What a divine green dream of nature in tranquility,
but the painting- I must leave;
I think the gallery would miss it . . .
But, when days are rainy and I am forlorn, I must go;
to view,
beauty painted.
___________________________
November 21, 2017
Poetry/Verse/Lake Side with Birch Trees
Copyright Protected, ID 17-9641-90-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Klimt
sponsor, Anthony Slausen
Tenth Place
Unease
You see the illusions
Of the demented mind
Whining like a victum
When he is the perpetrator of the crime
I wonder if they see
How crazy they appear to be
Or do they wander inside their distorted minds
Blaming their own ignorance on others brilliant kinds
Whine whine whine
Why do they
Trumpists and gods poets
Why oh why the deceit and being unkind?
I take my wine with Jesus
St Patrick and the divine
After a few I used the plural
When the devil is but one with no rhyme
With Cork and Kerry
The Celtic poets get merry
Ignoring the ones lacking merriment and rum
Bitterness blaming no talent on others shun
Digging deep into Jewish bones
The ignorant lack the light and must be shown
on your way, your almost there
well thought out with tack and care
making money, travel around
your off again before you feet hit the ground
i remember when we were young
at the tree "dizzy" we sung
and other songs till it was dinner
"you got a great voice you could be a singer"
we always got on but you could be a mare
but when i needed you, you were always there
we had a few laughs a right little prankster
and i am sorry for killing your hamster
they said you couldnt but u said you could
you proved then wrong, your ground you stood
you stubbern like father you will not be told no
you get and idear and cant wait to go
im so proud and i know dad would be too
cos life isint easy and u know this to be true
but youve came a long way from being my chubby little sister
and the time we havent spoke i raelly have missed ya
cant wait for you to come home, and we'll have a good laugh
like the picture of you, naked in spain in the bath (you were bout 5-6)
your the worlds greastest sister,well in my eyes you are
you have lots of talent and i know u will go far
so with all these words spoken
and that being done
i love you a million
from your fathers son
Form:
The astute and the dumb are
found on this road we traverse;
the one with goals to set, the other
with no character, interest or talent...
can both coexsist and not clash?
Which one of these two individuals
can survive a biological warfare
without discipline and knowledge?
Most certainly, the one has studied
the activities of the superior minds
that somehow seem invincible to
whatever they encounter on the
battlefield or in the menacing air.
This is not a war between two
mythical gods, Jupiter and Saturn;
who took the side of the courageous
Titans? Today, nobody is immune to
such an Apocalypse event, it may partly
or entirely destroy our unique planet
on any erratic, or maddened moment.
Let the mindful guide the careless
and diverge them from their dramatic fate.
If History is a testament of lies and truth,
can it be meditated by some who are
about to repeat the mistakes of the fools?
The astute will prevail in any given
circumstance, the dumb will be subdued
for his ignorance and imprudence.