Long Theatres Poems
Long Theatres Poems. Below are the most popular long Theatres by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Theatres poems by poem length and keyword.
Violent offenders released without bail
a senseless reform, it unfailingly fails
Victims walk alone in dark alleys at night
then rant on the news 'bout the lack of streetlights
Movies at theatres feature a killing a minute
Hollywood's culture of death implicated in it
Crude rap songs glorify every nasty habit imaginable
blare from sidewalks and streets uninhabitable
Guns so easy to score on the meanest of streets
adolescents own more than the cops on the beat
Single mothers on drugs, absent fathers in jail
young kids left untended, what do 'values' avail
Do murders seem senseless ~ They're so often not
They happen for good reason in the society we've got
Parents so proud four sons they raised
From the Highlands of Scotland in the pre-war days
On their crofts they worked morning till night
Unknown to them then of a future fight
The Germans have invaded a country so free
Poland was taken, the world shaken visually
Britain declares war as our men enlist
To rid the enemy as the fighting shifts
Europe's engulfed in a feverish war
Many are dying to comprehend what for
Four brothers sign up to fight
Soon a mother will pray every night
Campaigns they fight in, these theatres of war
Witnessing horrors never seen before
In their garden at home on the family crofts
Lies a bed of roses with petals so soft
Then one day with a passing glance
A pink rose dripping red in deathly stance
Their mother turns to the gate she looks
Telegram in hand from the postman she took
With trembling hands she opens with care
Upon reading the message in tear laden stare
Their eldest son in Africa was lost
As many many others deaths global cost
Every day as she passes the rose
It's pink petals bloom her tomorrow's fear grows.
.
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2014
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war4.php
Solitary sun in sapphire skies,
beams its rays upon Earth's radiance.
A tepid breeze flows between
daffodils and bluebells, gently rocking.
Spring is in the air,
yet streets remain silent.
Masked men in green suits,
bearing arms, patrol -
perturbed by unsought peace.
Anticipating unauthorised motions,
they wander past eerie emptiness -
sleeping theatres, picture less cinemas,
sober bars, childless schools and unfit gyms.
Silence is disrupted by military vehicles
occasionally startling their comrades.
Echoes of continuous coughs,
hidden behind closed curtains,
prevent even the obstinate ones,
admiring scents from rousing roses -
whose petals are not idle in isolation.
Industry of death is thriving -
undertakers undertaking, grave diggers digging.
Crematoriums fighting coffin carpenters -
whose sympathies are disguised by greed.
As humanity evolves into ashes.
In the midst of clean air,
mother nature smiles,
bathing in tranquil purity of serenity
the only fire burning is the sun.
Silent One
Simple Musing
22 March 2020
It was the early 60’s where rock and roll was
Taking over the land, and ELVIS was on tour with his band.
Where rock and roll was stories being told
And the teen life was starting to unfold.
We had race riots in the southern states
And black rights were up for debate.
An era of KENNEDY and KING where peaceful
Solutions they would try to bring.
Both assassinated at a young age
Because they tried to bring some change.
An Era where gas was cheap and wages low
And it cost fifty cents to see a show.
A time of the CUBAN missile crisis and VIETNAM
And protesters were taking a stand.
Then this country was taken by storm
And draft dodging became the norm.
Although some of the 60’s was a living hell
It gave me fond memories as well.
Drive in theatres – not many to be found
But one or two are still around.
We’d be able to back in to the drive in theatre
With a little luck- in our 53 pickup truck.
The speakers attached to the window of the door
The volume turned down very low
And the windows were rolled up so no one would know
Or- we would lie in the back of the truck
With a blanket or two
Depending on what we wanted to do.
This was the 60’s that I recall where most
Everyone had a ball.
Light shining through stained glass windows
Rainbows tearing light from worldly shadows
From the windows of aeons
With Valentinus and Seth as icons
Banners of the sayings of Christ
From the bright Gospel of Thomas unpriced
A sun cross tearing day from night
In the centre of the church bathed in light
Above there is a mosaic vault
Of Barbelo wearing gold without fault
Above the vault is a salt pond
Dripping down from Barbelo’s olive wand
To the words “Michar, Micheaus”
To a river for baptism for us
Hymns fill the cathedral at night
Hymns of Sophia’s cries for flowing light
As morning begins, prayers are blown
To the seed-bearing plants and trees alone
To untangle the angels trapped
Who cry for their darkness to be unwrapped
After this, people meditate
On themselves beyond the black, iron gate
Or reading the poems of Blake
On diamond roads in the shape of a snake
Going to grand theatres for all
Where souls have made two greats lights in the hall
To see souls in costumes high priced
Mirroring the death and life of bright Christ
The life and death of great Mani
The fall and redemption of bright Sophie
The ascent of great Allogenes
Where workers have made stars for the black screens
Traveling, looking all around
The ocean’s depths to see Saklas chained up
Traveling, singing as they prayed
Flying to the stars in steel birds they made
Surpassing great Babel’s tower
Remembering the power of Norea
As they see the bird’s flames flowing
That Norea burned Noah’s ark resting
Dancing in everlasting rings
Holding one another’s hands without strings
Dancing around the sun of life
Singing “Amen” without a care or strife
Thinking of the bridal chamber
Where mankind is reborn as a mirror
Of the heavens above heaven
Dancing round as a ring of eleven
Mankind resting in the sunlight
Though awake in the garden from the height
I will not live to see this sight
And it is a dream I wrote down in plight
We are bricklayers without spite
Of a Gnostic church that will stand upright
If we all dream in mankind’s night
Our dream will see the morning’s shining light
A year without your calls each day
Oh what I would give to hear you say
‘Hello Mum, how are you today’
A year since that day you were taken away
So sudden
So cruel
No warning for us all
One moment you were here
Then nothing at all
My son you are now
with sweet souls you loved
At peace
No pain
Pray we’ll see you again
Oh what a year
you’ve missed my Son
Covid 19 took over our lives
Lockdowns
Masks
Social distancing too
A Worldwide Pandemic
the likes of which ne'er seen before
Has taken over all our lives
as we hide behind our own front door
Parcels left upon our steps
Hand gel
Hand washing
To disinfect
To kill this virus
This evil germ
it makes me scared
it makes me squirm
You are probably wondering as you look down
wondering why we are wearing a frown
No Theatres
No shows
Pubs closing at 10
No hotels
No holidays
No mixing with friends
It’s surreal
It’s bizarre
for we cannot be who we think we are
Taking over our lives
Will life be the same again
Millions have perished
Coronavirus is to blame
known as Covid one nine
for that is its name
2020 was the year this toxic virus came….
Will it ever go
?????
Well ~ we really do not know…
Contest COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE 25
Sponsor Brian Strand
N/A
Written 3rd October 2020
Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner,
That's how the song goes.
I am proud of this city,
And it has been sung about in many a ditty.
Each day I get on bus 341,
And my journey through history has just begun.
Left over Waterloo Bridge,
Over the Strand which stands like a little low ridge.
Tight around Aldwych, past the brightly lit theatres,
Where ghosts of old actors drift around like real spectres.
Next the Royal Courts of Justice where laws are obeyed,
Where the innocent need not be afraid.
Straight on along Fleet Street and up Ludgate Hill,
Keep on going straight until you reach the turning left toward Snow Hill.
2 more stops and get off at Farringdon Station, and I am nearly at my place of work.
A short walk along Cow Cross Lane,
And my days toil starts over again.
I work at Smithfield's, the market for meat,
It's really really busy so hold on to your seat.
Porters fly around with a sheep on their shoulder,
And there's pallets of beef as big as a boulder.
There are people and produce every where,
So make sure you are careful and steady on the stair.
The market has run all through the night,
Then in the morning as it starts to get light.
Everything just disappears and the market is clear.
Time to get back on my bus, without to much fuss I reverse through history again.
Night trains' theatre
Saturday to Sunday, after midnight going home, the restaurant closed
Walk to the station, get on Bond Street, the train works, takes me home,
Change at Baker Street from Jubilee line to Metropolitan line, fast walk
In the stations and subways walked people cheerfully, men and women
Time after night, hmm, happy people traveled in the carriage, past time
Hmm, bombastic amazing ladies, they talked cheerfully and just laughed
Night Train movie, this is one of the theatres in my life. Watching the life,
on the trains. People, passengers, young, old, different nationalities
Hmm, colorful existence is a tale in life. Nothing, everything is life.
Wembley Park Station
Arriving to home
The theatre closed
Parents and spouses to their photo's they look, Another
hero was killed fighting for our freedom. Lost
so far from his home and family, Today
we continue to send our sons and daughters, But
there will come a day when, They
will live as free as we do. Will
we ever learn from these theatres, Never
again should we out live our children. Be
cause' another was lost today, but they will never be, Forgotten
" I hope i have done this form devised by Dane Ann and HG proud "
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-6.php
Depression times – no one went out
To theatres, concerts, movie shows –
They had friends in or went to their homes.
The whole country was more than broke.
There was always drinking at the parties
And a low-lying cloud of cigarette smoke.
I didn’t like the parties my parents had.
They were too loud, too over the top!
Sitting at the top of the stairs I watched.
People danced or sat on each other’s laps
And smoked and drank and sometimes smooched.
Apparently liquor was cheap and available.
Sometimes it got rowdy after a while
When everyone had a bit too much to drink.
Sometimes my mother passed out, and friends
Would laugh and lay her on the couch.
Later, there would be fights between my parents
And threats of one or the other leaving.
I didn’t – couldn’t – understand the times –
That people had to let their hair down,
Let go of the tensions of their everyday lives
And that sometimes they went too far.
By turns I was scared, anxious, embarrassed
And mortified for my parents.
Once, when I was a little older, I came downstairs
And made a scene about the drinking.
My parents sent me off to bed with a sound
Scolding about being rude and obnoxious.
For many, many years, far into adulthood,
I would not drink, would not have liquor
In the house for anyone else to drink.
I still have difficulty dealing with
Anyone who overindulges in alcohol.
Childhood experiences leave us with unseen scars.
When one feels one’s life is out of one’s control,
That becomes a permanent fear, and control
Becomes obsessively important.
My parents weathered those years,
And the ones that followed.
They were married for fifty years,
And I married and have my own family.
But I still find I want to be sure I have
Everything in my life under control.
That’s one reason I still drink very little.