Long Tight knit Poems
Long Tight knit Poems. Below are the most popular long Tight knit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tight knit poems by poem length and keyword.
Arriving on this earth just after the war
Never seeing the images my parents saw
Food was still rationed or so I was told
When to see a banana was like striking gold
Today we demand food whenever we want it
Ignoring the air miles, pile food in our basket
Wistfully visiting childhood back then
our life was simpler, as time and time again
we looked after each other; gave support in times of need
our neighbourhood, those halcyon days, a community indeed
Tight knit communities forever they have gone
Neighbours keeping to themselves if ever things go wrong
Often never speaking to the family next door
Greetings now an occasional nod; not caring anymore
Most folk appeared much happier in simpler times back then
They now care less for others; life seems to be all about them
If only they’d embrace the more important things in life
Like kindness, caring and sharing, instead of materialism and strife
Am I searching for Utopia evoking my childhood imaginings
A perfect world cannot exist, for a reality check gives me rude awakenings
Written 24th January 2019
Late January 2019
Brian Strand
1st place
Times have changed, much for the worse.
Familiar understanding, a vestige of the past.
A bond of lineage, of common mother land.
Unified through generations, now all alone.
A time once existed of dependable men.
One man knowing his brother had his back.
A combination of efforts, towards a greater goal.
Family always near, never alone to fear.
An unspoken pact, of reciprocating trust.
Willing to follow one another through fire.
Or, even into the torturous flames of hell.
Right or wrong, irrelevant the conclusion.
Tight knit association of unrelated men.
Lost to the simple greed of modern times.
Youth lacking any pride of their heritage.
Absent any connection, of their ancestral ties.
Every man now valuing, only their elevation.
Battling any or all, for a simple monetary gain.
Loyal only to currency, not blood flowing in veins.
The world in anarchy, an all out free for all.
As Men deceive even their blood relatives.
Betrayal has replaced Loyalty's existence.
When No one cares for only their self,
The whole world has finally gone to hell.
Isabel was the youngest of four children, dwelling in a large old house,
Nestled under the burgeoning oak trees, in green spring, of no doubts.
Isabel's parents were devout churchgoers, insisting upon going weekly;
But, Isabel often preferred playing, like dawn, pink sun, shining meekly.
Theirs was a tight knit community, the kind everyone wants to live in;
Like orange butterflies, calling on red flowers, of golden days in a spin.
Isabel and funny friends flew blue kites, under floating clouds of fluff,
On finer days, foreseeing furious storm, betwixt yoyo's, bikes and stuff!
Fleeting faddish colors flitted summer gardens, as bug eyed frogs leapt,
On flighty days of family visits, and gloss sunshine, where the ages slept.
Isabel lived in the house of now and then, like a rare eclipse of wonder;
Or the burgundy roses of seldom, evoking the green spell we are under.
Scented sincerity wafted from still blooms, on the street of sunny views.
There Isabel's family lived sparkly lives, like yellow stars, in sweet youth.
Nice music came from treetop nests, in shady niches where it was born;
When nonchalant neighbors came casual, and geese honked their horn.
'Pink powder puff' flowers applied talcum, as 'rattlesnake calathea' hissed;
And 'purple daydream' dozed away, its fragrance and beauty, very noticed!
'Weeping blue wisteria' was melancholy, although sun was shining orange;
And 'blue waterfall' bellflowers cascaded, like a couple, taking the plunge.
Sunday came and Isabel was pouting, as she would be in church for hours!
And she wore a long face to Sunday school, like dissent among the flowers.
But, Sunday school was so much fun, and she had forgotten it was Easter;
And the Lord's face was smiling down, and her unhappiness, released her!
They all had a snack and played a fun game, singing and clapping along;
For every warm heart is happiest, midst melodious voices, raised in song!
'If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands.
If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands.
If you're happy and you know it,
Then your face will surely show it,
If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands.'
No T.V., no internet, what are we to do, just look at us!
I remember a time, it wasn’t such a fuss.
Where pleasure and creativity we could find
without such things to entertain humankind.
We could look around and we could see
All the jewels of life waiting to be.
A life so good, a sun so bright,
While sharing it all with family; what a delight!
We wake up in the morning with smiles all around,
For there certainly be a love one to be found.
We’d notice the cold floors tickle our toes,
Now it tablets and i-phones up everyone’s nose.
We stepped out the door to start a new day
Not with text messages but hugs and kisses leading the way.
Our generation was tight knit and grand,
We all worked together with one purpose at hand.
That our next generation would have better opportunity,
With ever so much, and always have plenty.
And for the life we had, we knew we were blessed,
So we store up the extra to help out the rest.
We welcomed the strangers that came by our way,
We offered a meal and invited them to stay.
Today, if the door bell rings, we jump up in fret
If not forewarned by a previous text.
A variety of friends, we’ve made through the years,
Not by facebook request, but by having listening ears.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the new technology of this time,
But replacing one for the other is but a crime.
No T.V., no internet, now six days has past,
And from it a poem is written, and that is that, at last.
For today we got reconnected,
But remembering that at time it’s better to stay disconnected.
You my dear will never make it in my family,
For our blood runs thick with tradition and legacy.
We hold ourselves to a higher standard,
And you, my dear, are simply not up to par.
You see, we come from a long line of success,
Our name carries weight, our reputation is blessed.
We have values and morals that we hold dear,
And you, my dear, simply do not adhere.
Your ways are foreign, your ideas are strange,
You don't fit in, you don't belong in this range.
Our family is tight-knit, we stick together,
And you, my dear, will always be an outsider.
We have expectations, we have standards to meet,
But you, my dear, are not even close to complete.
You lack the grace, the poise, the refinement,
And in our family, that is a true testament.
We take pride in our heritage, our roots run deep,
But you, my dear, are just a mere sheep.
You'll never understand our customs and ways,
For you were not born into our family's maze.
So go ahead and try, but you'll never make it,
In our family, you'll always be unfit.
Our doors are closed, our hearts are shut,
For you, my dear, will never be enough.
So go on, find your own path, your own destiny,
For you my dear, will never make it in my family.
We bid you farewell, with no regret or sorrow,
For in our world, you'll always be just a borrowed.
But know this, my dear, you'll always be a part,
Of a family that rejected you from the start.
But in the end, it's your loss, not ours,
For we will continue to thrive, while you'll be left cowering in scars.
An anti-Semite pruned the tree of life,
cutting branches with a sickle of hate.
He unleashed hell's fury in God's temple,
killing Jews, he swore to eradicate.
The faithful fell in a hail of bullets,
as a synagogue in agony; cried.
For as a raging madman kept firing,
Jewish friends and family members died.
Shepherds of this tight-knit community
were sacrificial lambs, culled from their flock.
And the slaughter of the feeble and meek,
sent the whole civilized world into shock.
A split nation's a breeding ground for hate,
political ire burns over the years.
And you cannot douse a forest fire,
with sob filled vigils of a trillion tears.
Empathetic feelings call for action,
but when given choices, folks choose their gun.
And thus, more innocent victims will die,
for this massacre won't be the last one.
(Quatrain)
Oct. 30, 2018
Fra Angelico Sermon on the Mount
Jesus and his tight knit group
the pristine sculptured scene
breathtaking and serene
a halo light surrounds the head
of keen ears leaning in
it’s as if the disciples have died
and gone to heaven to relive
this ultimate speech
robe’d in blue, red and pinks
yet there’s a disparity, a blot
Judas’ halo is black
he’s nothing more
than a crescent moon
to be blown off the mountain peak
be the absentee scourge
remembered no more
floored
to the basement of hell
O that each one a saint
bereft of sins’ chains
the silver in his grip
a shark in their midst
shamed, shamed
by the Lord in chains
who’d die for him
a lame duck
who’d not embrace
the words of God’s lips
as if they were life itself
2/4/2021
Roses are red. Violets are blue,
But Violets for you, PD, just won’t do!
Roses mean passion, for roses are red,
And though I don’t want this to go to your head,
PD, you’re sweeter than dozens of roses
So those who give violets to you ---- Up their NOSES.
A thousand red roses for you. No, a TON,
For you are too awesome and way too much fun.
I’ll take off the thorns from each rose one by one,
And finally when all of my thorn-picking’s done,
I’ll wrap them up nicely in big bright bouquets,
The fragrance of thousands to last many days!
Roses are friendly, but violets are shy.
I won’t give violets to just have you cry!
Happy Valentine’s Day to my good friend, PD,
For your zaniness, wit and your sweet poetry.
May you ever remain in this fun tight-knit group,
The spice that enhances our Poetry Soup!
Written by Andrea Dietrich
and Dedicated to PD in honor of Valentine's Day
Who am I rooting for?
Everyone Black of course,
I am pro-black -
And against anything anti-black.
First and foremost,
Are my people,
EVERY.SINGLE.ONE.
The whole diaspora -
It doesn’t matter where you are from,
I love my people,
I’ll never stop,
No matter the nationality,
I am pro-black,
Black people have my heart,
I love us no matter what.
Who am I rooting for?
Everyone Black of course,
We are family,
Even if we are oceans apart,
Whether young or old,
Light or dark,
My people - they have my heart
We only have each other,
And that is all we need,
We may agree to disagree,
On many different things - but that's what happens when your family,
Through thick and thin, we are a tight knit community.
There's a connection, not to be severed,
By any knife or blade one might yield.
With hidden strength that's only measured,
From the tight knit to remain concealed.
Materially, it's enduring, as well as flexible,
While constraining polarities on each end.
Much like a web, it may have many attachments,
As it holds firmly, with continuity to suspend.
It's very nature adds to the mystery, as any
Vision through time or space remains unseen.
Yet the journey is observed throughout the cosmos,
Its attraction, dare I say love...just going about a routine.