Long Tb Poems
Long Tb Poems. Below are the most popular long Tb by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tb poems by poem length and keyword.
BAZAAR
Can you call it a bazaar
Where only one vendor
Her face strained
'Looks' pale, apprehensive
As if caught in a snakes' chamber
Yet searching for a potential customer
Desperate to sell products unheard of
Of human species, bizarre more bizarre
The seller in her early thirties
Skinny as an empty nylon bag
Frail as a TB patient
Seemingly double her age and malnourished
Sat at the small town's big square
Shrilling in the loudest of her voice
'On sale' 'on sale'
One is my son another daughter
The female child is only three sirs
Please don't turn your faces I request
Don't think that she's worth not sale
Within two years she can show her conquest
I guarantee at five
She can lay your table
At seven wash dishes
Two years later can take your kids to school
Then with a jolt in her throat
In one hand raising the three years' face
The other pointed towards the sky
The seller laboured to utter some words
I swear you can run a brothel
Oh! profit-loss Madams and Sirs
With lot much profit and market demand
Can't you see how glamorous her face!
Two drops of tear evaporated
In the scorching and cruel sun
Just after they inadvertently fell
In spite of emotion being tried to shun
Like her alcoholic and savage husband
Her hopes were torn into pieces of waste
Dreams shattered trusts broken
Rifts not repairable by a paste
It made the seller again cautious
She thought the tear might act as mace
Thinking to sell and engaging her saree's pallu
Furtively wiped the wet eyes and face
What it takes for a living
Mobile phones internet
Or just face book likes
Surely not for me
Because I don't have food, clothes
And a house as basic needs
Take this boy
I don't expect from you
Any exemplary parenthood
By your kindness sirs
At least we can get some food
We may not call this square a bazaar
As a hawker, there's only a single seller
But what if we combine altogether
The squares of poverty, immiseration
Deprivation destitution and major calamities
The brunt who bear.
Three things in life last forever
Faith, hope and love
The greatest is love
God is love
He that abides in love
Abides in God
And God in him
Success begins in our lives
When the problems and hurts of others
Matter to us
When the wound of one
Is the wound of all
When the pain of others
Is the pain of all
It is only through love
That we can respond to God
If we give everything we own
To the poor but do not love
No matter what we say
No matter what we believe
We are bankrupt without love
Love never gives up
Love is always there to act
In the face of persecution
In the face of intimidation
In the face of trial
In the face of temptation
Lord give us love enough
To overlook the mistakes of others
Lord let us rejoice when others do well
Love cares more for others
Than for self
Love does not want
What it does not have
Love is positive
It does not want anything negative
Love is good
It does not want anything bad
Love does not want hatred
Because love is love
Love does not strut
It does not have swollen head
Love does not belittle anyone
Love does not look down on others
Love does not force itself on others
Love puts up with anything
Love is determined
Love perseveres for the best
Which is yet to come
Love looks for the best
Love keeps going to the end
No matter the obstacle
No matter the difficulty
If we speak in tongues of angels
But we do not love others
We are simply making a noise
If we can prophecy the future
And understand all mysteries
Or have faith to move mountains
But we do not love others
We have accomplished nothing in life
A person who does not love
Cannot be entrusted with the power of God
He will misappropriate and misuse it
To hurt himself and others
Love looks around to see who is in need
Cause help is the best investment
In all we do let love lead
>I sent the following poem to my old employers. The RSPCA A year ago as the Badger was being exterminated in certain areas. Unfortunately, now it is in even more so I hope you do not mind if I share this poem with you.
FAREWELL MY BADGER FRIEND
All this land was ours once, oh so long ago.
Then man bought his cattle in, to share our pasture so.
Now they want to remove us, by killing us you see.
To try and eradicate the disease they call TB.
A nasty disease is TB of that there is no doubt.
But when I was here alone, there was none about.
So humans must have brought it, on a cow or two.
Now I’ve got to pay, for the mistakes you do.
So as you kill me and my friends, humanely I hope so.
I really hope it’s worth it, and that TB does go.
Be sad when you see my pasture where I did belong.
Bare of all the baggers who have all now gone.
Perhaps you will not kill us all, but I expect you will.
If not I hope I escape, I’ll really try I will.
But as you humans are so wise, or so they say you are.
Why don’t you vaccinate your cows, and leave us where we are.
You see I am TB free there is no harm in us.
And if you vaccinate your cows, they can live with us.
Spread the word my friends, if you do agree.
It’s better to save wildlife, than kill it off you see.
Well that is just the point, I really am so vexed.
For when the Badger's gone, who will be the next.
Please feel free to use the above poem as you wish, it’s too late for many Badgers but who knows if enough public support can be obtained perhaps the powers that be might reconsider their decision. It seems strange to me that so much interest can be shown of wild animals now extinct from bygone ages that here in the 21st Century man is hell bent on destroying a species, the mind boggles.<
It's like an epidemic,
There's no immunity,
Could happen to you,
Sure happened to me...
You find, out of the blue,
Of your marriage, old or new,
You are the only one married,
Your spouse's devotion seems
to have varied,
The lump in your throat,
when you found out,
Didn't leave a doubt,
And the throbbing lump
in your heart,
Made your wish from life,
to depart...
It's as if it were but yesterday,
The pain etched in so, that way...
I ran out of tears,
Ran out of hope,
Ran out of beers,
'Fridge full of fears...
How many years,
Have I wasted while
her leers,
Were directed at other men,
From her spider's den??...
And worse than that,
you know,
Her abuse of you did show,
In front of your kids,
Cutting you down before their eyes,
With all her tricks and filthy lies
Emasculated, ground to dust,
Like a nail encased in rust,
No self-respect did she leave
For me to ever achieve
Well I left and that was why,
I left all that I had, to cry
She kept the house,
the cars, the money,
But believe me, my honey...
She kept my children too
And I was forever blue...
The most poignant moment
of my life....
As I packed to leave my wife,
My youngest son, then seven
Crying and begging to heaven
For me not to go...
My heart, already shattered,
now bled,
There was no out for me,
At least that I could see,
I took my few things and left,
But my heart was the real sad theft,
My crying child I still hear implore,
For me, the hurt, to endure,
Don't go off in the night...
My child was filled with fright.
I am so sad to relate this, it is true. TB
It fell from a grey sky
That exhibited darker clouds
From the smouldering of the earth
Over the land of the rhino
It covered all with whiteness
And turned the tone of the continent
Into emptiness
The people and the wildlife vacating the landscape
Experienced a mixture of emotions
Confusion ran rampant throughout the villages
Why now, when the weather forecast was...?
What was is...it’s been sunny all our lives!
Who can explain this phenomenon?
Where’s the witchdoctor?
How will our children walk barefoot in the ice?
They’ve never known winter like this,
No one even owns a winter jacket
The snow fell in triangular flakes
Some rectangular, or circular
And even irregular
But none of this was very popular
The elders recall a day in 1981 when it last happened
The youngsters Google search, but the signal is poor
The entire community is looking for answers
The weatherman cannot be seen
It seems someone is deliberately hiding the truth
A prophet came from the neighbouring village
Wielding a cane, and out of the snow
Built a snowman
He came to life and spoke...
These are the sorrows of those who died in vain
In a land that still harbours so much pain
When Ebola and malaria cannot be eradicated
HIV and TB are still in existence
The snow carries nothing but anger
At those remaining who fail to prosper
Because of dictators and corruption
Inequality, and gender violence
The snow smelted overnight
And the sky opened to the grey of the rhino
The black and white of the zebra
To the pride of a lion
And the joy of the people
I was the seventh child in a family of four,
the second born, do I need to say more?
Well perhaps I should fill in a few gaps,
or you could remain confused perhaps...
Yes I was the second boy born to my mother,
five girls came before me I did discover,
four boys in all were to follow my dad,
down to the dole queue, no jobs to be had.
No Jobs For A Man was all dad would say,
just a few ads for a lass, the same every day
and so the poverty we all knew as many before
was plain to all those that came by our door.
It was the time of depression between the great wars,
the shipyards were idle, the pits dug no more,
all the efforts of unions brought little relief,
fitters had nowt to fit, nowt to eat, nowt but grief.
For grief came to many as families felt the cruel
grasp of TB and rickets that kept children from school,
such was the prize for those veterans that survived the war,
no prospects for their kids to keep the wolf from the door.
They had stood most of the losses that any man might take,
in trenches as bullets and worse killed many of their mates,
back home they should have had their just reward,
but back in the thirties, they were largely ignored.
For profits and health care were but for the few,
death came to most folk before they aged forty-two,
lungs damaged by coal dust and smoke and TB
in those cruel years afore we ever heard of TV...
©Rhumour
March 26th 2011
WESSON
GIVES A LESSON
WITH A .357
DAVID SLINGS A ROCK
COP HOLSTERS A GLOCK
LIZZY BORDEN PACKS AN AXE
MAC HE PACKS THE KNIFE
BILLY BATTLES WITH A CLUB
TOMMY’S GUN IS A SUB
KELLY’S GOT ONE TOO
BAZOOKA JOE IS GUM
PETER GUNN IS NOT
COLT .45 IS NOT MALT
NOR IS IT A HORSE
HORSESHOES AND
HAND GRENADES
CANONS HAVE BIG BALLS
DOC HOLIDAY HAD TB
ROCK HUDSON HAD HIV
NATILIE WOOD DON’T FLOAT
NATILIE HOLLAWAY DON'T FLOAT
THE TITANIC BOAT DON'T FLOAT
JAMES DEAN CRASHED HIS CAR
HANK WILLIAMS CRASHED HIS BAR
DIRTY HARRY HAD THE BIGGEST
THE DERRINGER IS SMALLEST
CAIN MURDERED HIS BROTHER
JULIETTE DRANK POISON FOR HER LOVER
JIM JONES KILLED WITH COOL-AID
SLASHING WRISTS WITH A BLADE
BOW AND ARROW KILLS THE SAME
AS BONNIE OR CLYDE BARROW
CHARLES MANSON IS ALIVE
MICHAEL JACKSON IS NOT
IRAQI RULER WITH A ROPE
JOHN BELUSHI TOO MUCH DOPE
SATURDAY NIGHT SPECIAL IS ORDINARY
FAST AND FURIOUS IS THE CRIME
PIRATE VICTIMS WALK THE PLANK
THINK! NEXT TIME I”LL BRING A TANK
HEAR THE WHISTLE OF MY MISSILE?
AFTER THAT WHAT DO YOU BET?
I’LL COME FLYING IN A FIGHTER JET
SMOKEY BEAR’S RIGHT TO “BEAR” ARMS
OR DID WE JUST ARM BEARS?
NEVER STIFLE MY RIFLE
THIS IS MY RIFLE THIS IS MY GUN
ONE FOR FIGHTING ONE FOR FUN
CADENCE…
BANG - BANG - BANG - BANG - BANG - BANG
RELOAD
MOLON LABE
COME AND TAKE THEM
THE ONLY WAY FREEDOM OF SPEECH WORKS
IS BECAUSE THE 1st AMENDMENT
IS BACKED BY THE 2nd AMENDMENT
Millions and millions of bricks
Tons and tons of concrete
Lord only knows how many panes of glass
Granite, Marble, and cobblestone too
Build a city strong, steeped in history
The Adams, Otis, Hancock, and Revere
Tea parties, massacres and lanterns that hung
Swan boats, ducklings, with duck boats to boot
Hatch shell, commons and a Garden with parquet
Green Monsters, leprechauns and Pops play grand
West End, North End, Southie and Back Bay
Chinatown, Beacon Hill and Government Center
South Station, North Station, M. T. A.
Red line, Green line, Orange and Blue
You may find Charlie still riding too
Baked beans, chowder and don’t forget scrod
Lobster, cannoli’s, haddock and cod
Brown bread, beer, oysters and cream pie
Corned beef and cabbage with blarney a’plenty
Fenway Franks, Hoodie Cups, whoopie pies with Dunks
Marathon, Head of the Charles, and St. Paddy’s day parade
Bunker Hill, Faneuil Hall, the old’s North Church and Ironsides
Streets Beacon and Boylston, Avenues Commonwealth and Mass
Northeastern, Tufts, along with the Boston’s College and University
Brigham and Women, Beth Israel Deaconess, Massachusetts General
Bobby, Espo, Raymond, Bergy and Z
Russ, Bird, Hondo, Couz, and Jones boys
T.B. 12, Hog, Andre, Bruschi, and Troy
Teddy, Pedro, Papi, Jim Ed, and Yaz
These are our guys; this is our city!
David slings a rock
Cop holsters a glock, Lizzie Borden packs an axe
Mac he packs the knife, Billy battles with a club, Tommy’s gun is a sub
Kelly’s got one too, Bazooka Joe Is Gum, Peter Gunn isn't,Colt45not malt
Nor is it a horse, horseshoes & handgrenades, canons have big balls, Doc
Holiday had TB Rock Hudson had HIV, James Dean crashes his car,Hank Williams crashes a bar, Natalie Wood don’t float, Cain killed his brother, Juliette drank poison for her lover, Rev. Jim Jones killed with cool-aid, Whitey Bulger he got paid,dead man walking gets to eat Rodney King
got beat, Cupid’s arrow as Clyde Barrow, Mama Cass choked on ham
57,000 gone in Nam, Four dead in Ohio, Kamikazes fall 1941, again
they fall 2001Iraqi leader with a rope, John Belushi too much dope,
Charles Manson is alive MichaelJackson isn’t,Saturday night special
is very ordinary, Fast and furious is the crime, Dick Clark just his
time Pirate victims walk the plank, THINK,
Next I’ll come rolling in a tank
Hear the whistle of my missile
Dirty Harry had the biggest
The Derringer is small
Smokey Bear forest fire
Greek funeral is a pyre
Too many +’s or -’s
Is electric surges
Woman and child
sing the dirges
Walking dead
Are zombies
Fat man and
Little Boy
Are atom
Bombies
Did Robert Browning say it best when he
wrote, “winter takes the old ones”? Possibly.
Bronchitis, pthisis, whooping cough, T.B. –
they ran amock in 1863.
I trust it’s not too jarring if I jump
from modern miseries (ecoli, Trump)
to mid-Victorian London’s social rump,
and John Snow (doctor), and the Broad Street Pump.
The City Hall had never heard of germs.
They dealt with filth and foliage and firms,
and knew that there were parasites called worms.
But cholera? They couldn’t come to terms.
The water pump in Broad Street was infected.
Bacteria, back then, went undetected.
“Miasma” and “air pressure” were suspected:
how could the population be protected?
Oh lucky London! By sheer happenstance,
within the metropolitan expanse
young Doctor Snow was working, and by chance
had learned of recent studies made in France.
“They’re tiny animals, too small to see.
I’ll prove it, if you trust the Pump to me.”
Officials sneered with incredulity:
but, faced with daily deaths, gave him the key.
He knocked on every window in the quarter,
and showed (despite initial mayoral hauteur)
that cholera was carried in the water.
And, single-handed, John Snow stopped the slaughter!