Long Tall Poems
Long Tall Poems. Below are the most popular long Tall by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tall poems by poem length and keyword.
Unlike Martin Luther King Junior
I am not a black man
but I also have a dream
I also dream about equality
the love of a world
that care's, for all of it's people
I also am a Christian in a world
that needs to find love
All men should stand up
to speak against inequality
to speak against injustice
to pass the hand of friendship
poverty holds suffering
and transgression in it's arms
driving the world into anger
and pain, our children onto drugs
Stand tall and become a man
refuse to waste your lives with guns
refuse to waste your lives on violence
education holds the path to success
A friend of mine that is dark skinned
said all of her friends want the office jobs
yet wealth and success
come on the back bone of hard work
If a man takes a job as a cleaner
the wage still provides the money
to improve your education
knowledge is power the road to success
The colour of your skin does not stop you
Eddy Murphy, Oprah Winfrey, Obama
and thousands more have found success
doctors nurses business men
Poverty has your children
turning to drugs
anger has them turning to violence
violence has them going to prison
I meet a man at the train station
who said I hate the blacks
I asked him why and he said
six of them held a knife to me
and demanded money
When you pick up a gun
or attack a man with a knife
you encourage discrimination
when you respect people
and earn a career
you encourage the world
to have respect for you
Where the temple of books stood still,
Library of Jaffna kept ancient history in Tamil.
1933, is where it was all built by cement and wood.
The pure, white colour of the library was seen beyond good.
Ancient texts, ancient books, were read,
Books of ancient history would rarely been unread.
The library was like a sacred temple of books.
Archaeologists would admire its heavenly and sacred looks.
1981, where chaos was going to start,
Where flames consumed the library's heart.
Mobs of the Sinhalese burnt down Tamil's memories of history,
Whether the ancient books or texts are going to survive, is a mystery?
97,000 books burnt in one single night,
The structure had been ripped off from its tall height.
The pain of losing our history in writing is great loss,
Not a single book or an ancient text or single word couldn't be recovered from this burning loss.
~Peter Pan~
(Rhyme)
Peter Pan where are you going
I guess it's Wendy you're looking for
And to Neverland now you are flying
As Tinkerbell spreads magic at my door
I always watched you in completely awe
All these years since I was really small
O Peter you were always my hero then
You were my favorite out of them all
In the eyes of every child you're so tall
O Peter you're so brave and so strong
With Wendy and the kids you're so sweet
Forever you've planted in my heart a song!
In the end you beat Old Hook as you'd plan
Oh Peter Pan I am still your number #1 fan!
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2006
January.23. 2015
Breaking news this just in,
Russian medics have just discovered
a vaccine or cure for Covid-19
1 sprits of Novichok
1 cup if tea laced with Polonium - 210
Followed by a weekend mini city break
Taking in the 125 meter tall steeple
above Salisbury Cathedral
A symposium on fake news delivered
by Vlad Putin himself
A beginner's introduction to chemistry on the
periodic tables most toxic poisons
And a crash course in election
tampering
Then lunch a passing out ceremony
and certificate with matching gift set
And proverbial negative swab test resulting
in the all clear nothing to see here
Nostrovia vodka for everyone to celebrate
and toast our success
Bark entwines the branches of-
tall eucalyptus tree
Nest was placed with much haste
Now propped so hauntingly
Baby bird has disappeared
Egg shells-left other pinch
Though tweeting can be heard close by
Perhaps a baby finch.
Amazing such a special home
Has captured me to pause
Inspired by the work made from
Little beak and claws.
Empty nest-such a shame
For crafted loving care,
A new beginning for the bird
Left inhabitance vain bare.
The bird is labelled brainless
I voice Intelligent
To nurture young to have them sprung
To bring sheer sentiment
The aves continue cycle
Freedom, love to nest
Astonished by the workbirdzip
Animals at best.
Copyright © Paris-Maree Boreham 2020
Ooh la la, the rose, coronate her beauty.
Her ruffled scent, her hues, dare not refuse.
When petals red, like strawberry-fruity,
and lovey-dovey white, one must persue.
Persistent veil of mist will kiss one’s soul,
will kill one’s love for any forthright bud.
She’s no petulant child, a fine trompe l’oiel.
Commands perfume’d ascent of pulse, life’s blood.
Beneath the fray, a thorn’d adversary
will snag the jugular of swivel-head.
Her red pursed lips, dove-skin, a bit scary.
Don’t be tempted to find another’s bed.
She stands ten feet tall-er than uncut weeds.
She possesses a prowess set that leads.
3/14/2021
Personification & Sonnet
In the waning moments of daylights song;
night birds at rest call softly to the stars
cicadas and crickets noisily sing;
as the golden hour waves goodbye.
Baby deer and ducks look on amazed;
everything goes silent; it’s the edge of night;
a lonely Queen sits, shining her crown;
for nowhere can the golden light stay.
During the dark of night a misty rain falls
touching treetops along the deep valley.
Dripping from branches to rising creeks;
Sleepy eyes carry water from the fountain.
Memories of her float about the fields
from winding paths we feel her presence.
Into the depth of our hearts; the memories speak,
of an old broken tree that used to stand tall.
A hummingbird gently nuzzles a trumpet vine;
the sun falls gracefully upon her passing;
the old queen’s crown shall always shine;
But nowhere can the golden light stay.
There, beyond the garden wall,
are fronds of grass and weeds grown tall
A wild rose pleads for a breath of sun
just like a child who needs some fun
A greedy shade has kept her shunned
She is watered, fed, by pearls of dew
hidden by the scattered hues
of red, and green, and swirling blues
where no one has seen, her beauty, true
While blushing pale, of velvet blooms
she fills the vales and afternoon
with fragrant gifts, that lift the gloom
She shifts and winds her tendrils loom
to trail her vines with sweet perfumes
prevailing through the twilight, soon
She's has lost her petals one by one
Tossed by evening's billowing tease
They land beneath the willow trees,
which band together, if to please
the sun that gathers with the breeze
in carpet for the birds and bees
________________________________________________
1/21/15 For the contest: Interlocking Rhyme
Sponsored by Isaiah
2000 miles is a long ways, and 50 plus years is a very long time.
It spells the time and space that have separated me and my two friends.
Back then, whether it was hay, ammonia, cowboys, sling shots, or rubber tires,
somewhere in the mix were my two friends. Presently, there is a loving memory of Dennis and Johnnie. They were absolutely my best childhood friends and everyday playmates. Dennis was called "My terrible looking friend" because he never kept clean. Johnnie was the toughest of the three of us.
The above mentioned items of danger and fun are forever tied to their memory. Whether running from an ammonia tank gone bananas or rolling rubber tires; whether playing cowboys, rolling and jumping in the hay barn, or yelling loudly in a tall rusty structure, we three did it together like three vegetable peas in a hull.
On my next memory page, I see a metal fence under which Dennis tried to trawl in his attempt to escape the wrath of my two brothers, who came to my defense for something that Dennis had done to me. He never made it, and my brothers started to beat on him as they beckoned me to join them in the fighting feast. I demanded that they let him go, and until now, I'm getting a picture of Dennis' face being so relieved from my brothers' beating. I didn't hear him, and don't remember talking about it, but Dennis must have said, "What A Friend". He certainly was mine.
031121PSCtest, I Remember, Malabika Ray Choudhury; 2P
Love, waiting to be found like a gentle dove
Turning enemies to companions
In the realm of all emotions, love stands tall
Not jealousy, pride, anger or awaiting our downfall
Your reflection shows our truest selves
One which we cannot hide
And in your embrace, hearts delves
Through trials and tribulations love stays strong
Like a beacon of hope in the coldest night long
Standing pure and true like
A treasure without measure
What a lovely language you speak
Even without uttering a word
I hear the harmony of your sweetest chords
A bond that connects heart to heart never fading, never torn apart
In you we find peace and solace
A joy that will never be erased
You protect, trust, hope and always persevere
Love never fails: it conquers never fall
A bond that intertwines from the depth of our heart.
Delve into your hearts, you will find love always there
God's eternal love, our shining hope
In your arms there's no room to fear