Long Tort Poems
Long Tort Poems. Below are the most popular long Tort by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tort poems by poem length and keyword.
Le Problème avec des Blancs – Translation of Jim Everett’s « The White Man Problem » by T. Wignesan
(Jim Everett, Mawbana Pleregannana, b. 1942 on Flinders Island, Tasmania, has had a chequered career and like almost all the aboriginal poets and writers in English of the first post-WWII generation, hardly made it over the primary school curricula. He’s a poet, playwright and essayist (short articles). Among the jobs he tried his hand at : telegram boy, factory hand, fisherman, merchant seaman, rigger, truck driver, public servant, aboriginal community worker and political activist. He was the national secretary of the National Aboriginal and Islander Writers Oral Literature and Dramatists Association.) T. Wignesan, Paris, December 15, 2016
Des aborigènes ayant lutté ne cessent de perdre.
L’homme blanc est venu pour répandre son fléau,
Ils ont apporté leurs droits que nous n’avons pas choisis.
Nous ne pouvons pas contrôler cette chose qui nous étouffe,
Malgré cet obstacle nous devons nous faire avancer
Et nous devons aussi rester fidèle à nos croyances dans leurs
évolution,
Dans l’espoir que l’attitude des blancs va se diminuer.
Des hommes blancs ne s’intéressent pas à comprendre nos
traditions,
Ils pensent que leur technologie est la meilleure solution pour
l’homme.
Et ils persistent à nous faire renoncer à nos coutumes ancestrales
Et leur ‘civilisation’ continue à nous nous faire soumettre.
Ils ne voient pas à quel point ils ont tort,
Etant aveuglés par la gloire et le pouvoir.
Leur pouvoir les empêche à distinguer le vrai but de la vie,
Ainsi créant le problème des hommes blancs qui nous rende
amers.
Les problèmes des blancs s’avèrent être l’avarice et le viol,
Et leurs dix commandements qu’ils désobéissent à volonté.
Pour quelle raison ont-ils des telles lois s’ils ne peuvent pas les
suivre,
C’est toujours le cas des tous les blancs.
La réponse devrait se trouver dans le fait de leur pouvoir,
Exploitant d’autres pauvres blancs sans défense parmi eux.
L’histoire de l’homme blanc se résume à : chacun pour soi-même,
Que le problème de l’homme blanc n’est guère confiné à la
couleur de sa peau.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016.
Escape the tort of our avarice world
Defy the ones who shift the blame
Deter the decadence forgetting shame
Freedom is on the top of the bare eyes
Beyond the consciousness of The Human Kind
Search harder and then you'll find
The Land of Sophia
Dwelling past are needs
Swirling around our bare minds
Our wants polluting out sight
the Land of Sophia is lost at night
Are the Lies held
worth it in time
Only embracing The Veil of Logic
The Truth is cast into shade
where all vices are soon to be made
For all of our dreams and dramaticies
The Destruction Star poisons seas
Far from This Galaxy
among the stars
I can see myself,
And The One I've became
Escape the tort of our avarice world
Defy the ones who shift the blame
Deter the decadence forgetting shame
Freedom is on the top of the bare eyes
Beyond the consciousness of The Human Kind
Search harder and then you'll find
The Land of Sophia
Dwelling past are needs
Swirling around our bare minds
Our wants polluting out sight
the Land of Sophia is lost at night
Caught in our lust,
of forgetting trust
I wonder can we break free
of bound forever in the clutches
of Lilith's Love
Eden's Heart
Who's desperate For Love
Who's desperate For Light
yet wallows in Blight
and chooses to wait--forevermore
The wait in Summer--An Eternity
Lilith's Love
Eden's Heart
Escape the tort of our avarice world
Defy the ones who shift the blame
Deter the decadence forgetting shame
Freedom is on the top of the bare eyes
Beyond the consciousness of The Human Kind
Search harder and then you'll find
The Land of Sophia
Dwelling past are needs
Swirling around our bare minds
Our wants polluting out sight
the Land of Sophia is lost at night
We don't chose what's right
I can't believe we are able to see this far
Crawling in Shadows
Never will breath find it's light
Escape the tort of our avarice world
Defy the ones who shift the blame
Deter the decadence forgetting shame
Freedom is on the top of the bare eyes
Beyond the consciousness of The Human Kind
Search harder and then you'll find
The Land of Sophia
Dwelling past are needs
Swirling around our bare minds
Our wants polluting out sight
the Land of Sophia is lost at night
**Mark Jansen, Guitarist, Male Vocals, and main songwriter of Epica**
HURRICANE HATTIE
It came like a thief
After midnight
Stealthily
Unawares
Mischievously
Spitefully
Desperately
Determined
With preconceived plans
Across the Caribbean Sea
Suddenly turning west
Making a beeline
To British Honduras
In Central America
It foiled expectations
That it would arrive
At seven the next morning
And
Instead
Made a surprise visit
Six hours earlier
And
Like the Gestapo
The KGB
The Secret Police
Attacked
While people were
Least prepared
Snoozing
Snoring
Dreaming
Of better things.
Discriminating
It attacked
Belize
Ignoring neighboring
Guatemala
Honduras
Mexico
As if
Remotely controlled
By some
Vengeful fanatic
At 150 miles per hour
And more
It
Clobbered
Battered
Hammered
Pounded
The coastline
Of
The Jewel
People still ’memba
How in ’61
It wrecked havoc
In Dangriga
Belize City
San Pedro
Cay Caulker
Among others
As it
Thumped
Hit
Broke
Lifted
Pushed
Carried
Dumped
Submerged
Their valuables
And
Like a Repo Man
Dispossess them
Of their
Treasured belongings
Within the
Make-belief safety
Of its eye
Poor people
Thinking it was over
Sought their fortunes
On the beaches
In the shops
In others’ property
When Hattie
On a round trip ticket
Came back hurriedly
And with
More gusto
Lashed out
As a category five
Storm
Typhoon
Hurricane
To teach them a lesson
In
Tort
Honesty
Respect
And dignity.
In the end
One third of the coast
Was devastated
One third
Damaged
And
Another third
Standing
With 264 dead
And millions
Of dollars lost
The place lay wasted
Spoiled
Thorn
Flooded
Damaged
Wounded
Smashed
Muddied
Polluted
As
Debris
Corpses
Belongings
And victims
Wallowed in its wake.
As it distanced itself
From
Its handiwork
And Observed
With a smirk
Its power
To
Subdue
Man
Woman and child
It grinned
In satisfaction
At its exploits
And its supernatural supremacy
To shape destiny
And vanquish the vulnerable
I ask for nothing,
just relying on Providence;
surprisingly I will experience
an enriching event
that fate has sent...
does anybody wonder why I sing?
I age, and furthermore I feel younger;
wrinkles appear to attest their reminder
that my troubles are of another sort,
and despite more unpleasant occurrences confirming my tort:
these upheavals are raging storms that will soon pass,
and this phase is the ultimate test!
Destiny, unfold this enriching event,
and usher in an age of contentment;
the vitality of these years don't reflect fragility:
resolute and strong, hopeful and diligent...
I can face any hurdle and defy tragedy,
and the hardest challenge is finding trust!
An enriching event was predicted in my natal chart
and astrologers are putting much effort in their research,
to assure me that a better tomorrow is coming;
and should I place my total trust in them,
and catch a rare glimpse and be content...
but Who has given me a last chance at living?
I could never be guided by the unpredictable stars,
what I am amazed about them: is their mysterious glimmer,
but fortune and wealth is the damnation of the sinner,
of that one cursing God for all the plagues and sorrows
inflicted upon them...to punish them for all that was taken without honor
and appreciation; and wouldn't they envy the one opening the golden door?
My harvest is finally ripe, and spacious fields offer their abundant fruits,
every bird has a more sonorous song to make me feel vibrantly alive:
o larks and nightingales, let your joyful ode reach the Heavens above!
My blessings have been too numerous to be counted and this joy exalts
Him with a gratefulness that is equal to every breath I inhale and exhale;
when peace blends with silence: a realistic Heaven is an enriching event!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Would you still love Me, my honey sweet dear?
If The nectar of honey seized its eternal drops
Would there still be hope for you to love Me?
Oh my my, not is it late nor too early
If the moon came down to earth
And talked to us eye in eye,
Would you still love Me,
Would you still be mine?
Love me from your heart,
Love me under the covers.
Love me in the orchard of the lovely lovers.
The hurly burly and the jarring rumble of the earth
For as time sweeps us off our feet
My passion shall grow larger and larger
Day by day.
You are my passion.
Day, night, I only dream.
Let no one come between us
For that is my greatest fear.
Would you still love Me?
Oh dear love,
With eyes as sweet as scintillating waters.
Do not be punitive,
I am not worthy for a tort.
Rather I am worthy for all the torts in the world
If it means that i shall rejoice with your love.
We'd snuggle together warm on the nights cold and frozen
But id deliver your cheeks with a warm little gift.
To physically express my feelings would be intimidating,
But i know for a fact that you are a very romantic person on the inside.
But if time turns late,
If we skip the clocks.
If the skies stop to illuminate,
If the horses gallop by?
Let us not live the lives of mayflies.
Oh, I love you excruciatingly!
Feelings are hard to describe,
I am not a variable in love.
Nor do I know much about love,
But i know that I can't hold back the resistance
To meet those lips and hold on for a long, very long time.
A very long time.
Goodnight my love,
I wonder if you'll be mine.
What if we don't?
Do you even know Me?
I know You.
So my love,
My dear dear love.
Who's eyes scintillate like the waters.
Would you wish to be mine,
Would you still love Me?
Would you still love to be mine?
IF ever I had a country : XXI - XXII
" I will follow that system of regimen which, according to my ability and judgment, I consider for the benefit of my patients, and abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischievous. I will give no deadly medicine to any one if asked, nor suggest any such counsel; and in like manner I will not give to a woman a pessary to produce abortion. With purity and with holiness I will pass my life and practice my Art. " Excerpted from the translation by Francis Adams in Wikisource of the Oath of Hippocrates, 400 BCE.
XXI
IF ever I had a country
And if ever I were but the Health Minister
And if some breach some tort against The Hippocratic Oath reached my ear
I'd rage and storm through ward portals in Olympian Apollonic gear
To arraign the culprit whether Male Nurse Sister Matron or specialist Doctor
Till no patient need fear contamination poison nor Secret Service murder
That is, if ever I were but the Health Minister
And even if I never ever had no country
XXII
IF ever I had a country
And if ever I were the Health Secretary
And if some sleepless stateless victim of the Secret Police's Third Degree
Was put under Trileptal and made to undergo Tomo-Scintigraphy
And the operators abandoned the patient to general tonico-clonic seizure in epilepsy
I'd either order the hospital closed or put the service heads out-of-activity
That is, if ever I were even the Health Sec in Gay Paree
And even if I never ever had no country
© T. Wignesan - Paris, July 9, 2018
There's a game known as Chess that I learned as a lad
But in spite of the passage of time I'm still bad.
I can not see ahead seven moves like some do;
If you say, "Bobby Fischer" I'll just come back with, "Who?"
I speak French when I must, as in terms like, "J'adoube,"
But it's all a charade, for I think like a boob.
I don't know who invented this mind-wasting sport,
But I'm sure many law books would deem it a tort.
You can find "Chess For Dummies" on shelves in bookstores,
And I once tried to read it, eliciting snores.
See, I'm trapped in the middle, 'twixt Firsties and Plebes;
It is called Mediocre, and it ranks me with Dweebs.
But this thing's got me hooked; I just can't walk away;
It's a weird fascination that's always in play.
I don't care if you trounce me in ten moves or less
When I trot out my Queen in a desperate press.
My intent is to smash you like ANVIL on bone,
But it's not very often that I'm in the zone.
And I have other schemes that I'm willing to try;
GARIBALDI's the Gambit that might make you cry.
When I'm lazy I mimic your opening game;
MIRROR MOVES, my descriptive, alliterative name.
Metaphors just delight me as labels for ploys
To deprive my opponents of all of their joys.
If I were only equally good with my men
I could teach all of you a sore lesson, and then
I would not have to channel my fear of defeat
Into tirades like these that sound like a goat's bleat.
Temporary InSlamity
Two a.m , still awake, gettin’ leg-shakes
Gaggin’, burnin’ on my mis-slam-stakes
Tryin’ to win some judge judy’s hot damn
Thank-you-ma’am for hosting this con-slam-test
As I sling slam sludge like hogs in a hookup ham-fest
Just a small-time soul slammin’ junkie motha
Hopin’ this funky slam betta than at least one otha!
Didn’t know when I started tho…
Twenty-five crappy lines could sentence me
To prison time for petty poetic crimes bro... or should I say brotha….
Cause this fussed-over cussed-over rhymin’ over-doses
Ain’t no Gun and Roses, hell it ain’t even close-es
More like prosetry psychosis
Induced by late-night deep hypnosis
Where am I??? maaannnn.. time to be poppin’ some more no-sleep no-dozes
Hope the Judge J. rules summarily
That I suffered temporary in-slam-ity illiterarily
Or had an unnecessary ca-slam-ity vocabularily
And no matter which way judge rolls, just so she knows
I didn’t write this slam ma’am… this slam is writing me (very eerily…)
So Judge Judy of poetic tort, appealing to your phoenetic court
Don’t abort this sham of a slam to the sordid slammer
Order it posted where it can be toasted on glam slam site Instagrammar
Cause tryin’ me, fryin’ me over crimey slammism
Means death of ode age in poetical prison…
© 2014 all rights reserved
Horn Haiku Splendid
Wish it had never ended
really intended
always will exhort
having to go to court
paying child support
(selling myself short)
(trip had to abort)
(taring down the fort)
(ship sank at the port)
(type of court was tort)
wort on skin - Search (bing.com)
(had to take off wart)
tort court - Search (bing.com)
Can you come up with a poem like this?
can go to below
because I had told you so
mouth off like to blow
(big party will throw)
(a great garden grow)
(lawn will have to mow)
(always fight my foe)
(hole in shirt shall sew)
(I had stubbed my toe)
(hope win, place or show)
(garden have to hoe)
(saw Good Morning Joe)
(will have to eat crow)
(made a lot of dough)
(should use sweet and low)
(what matter be oh)
(like both Frost and Poe)
(down stream boat will row)
(away things did stoe)
(my horse had to whoa)
Below my poems find
when you will want peace of mind
as poet have resigned
Poets With Most Poems Posted on PoetrySoup
Am writing poems, watching MSNBC, having Biscotti with my coffee;
have haircut at noon, reading my email, and Compline again with
Kevin at St Matthews 8-830 PM and Kevin's Compline and compline
with my church St. James Episcopal.
Horn Haiku Splendid
Wish it had never ended
really intended
always will exhort
having to go to court
paying child support
(selling myself short)
(trip had to abort)
(taring down the fort)
(ship sank at the port)
(type of court was tort)
wort on skin - Search (bing.com)
(had to take off wart)
tort court - Search (bing.com)
Can you come up with a poem like this?
can go to below
because I had told you so
mouth off like to blow
(big party will throw)
(a great garden grow)
(lawn will have to mow)
(always fight my foe)
(hole in shirt shall sew)
(I had stubbed my toe)
(hope win, place or show)
(garden have to hoe)
(saw Good Morning Joe)
(will have to eat crow)
(made a lot of dough)
(should use sweet and low)
(what matter be oh)
(like both Frost and Poe)
(down stream boat will row)
(away things did stoe)
(my horse had to whoa)
Below my poems find
when you will want peace of mind
as poet have resigned
Poets With Most Poems Posted on PoetrySoup
Am writing poems, watching MSNBC, having Biscotti with my coffee;
have haircut at noon, reading my email, and Compline again with
Kevin at St Matthews 8-830 PM and Kevin's Compline and compline
with my church St. James Episcopal.