Long Trade Poems
Long Trade Poems. Below are the most popular long Trade by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trade poems by poem length and keyword.
Swimming makes me feel lighter, it lifts me up and gives me joy.
I gave it up awhile back, but have no idea why said Mrs. Loy.
Maybe it is because you husband pouts? Her sister-in-law suggested.
Or because when you swim your head clogs up all congested.
Mrs. Loy had to admit she did curb her behavior, so her home not to sully.
Trying to do whatever she could to please her husband who was a bully.
Her sister-in-law said, “Maybe you could leave the lout and swim with me.”
But Mrs. Loy did not want to trade staying home all day for a life of joy and glee.
Afterall, her days were nice until her husband came home from his job.
Her weekends and nights were horrible, but she did not want to leave Rob.
She had a job once upon a time and she truly did not want to spend time at work.
Trading for a miserable life she lived with a sullen, pouty, put-down-artist of a jerk.
I cannot sleep beneath this dull purple sky~
a bruise-colored dome humming with static,
smog drifting like half-formed ghosts
that sting the corners of my eyes.
I close them,
but the haze follows inward,
and my mind keeps spinning
like a damaged satellite
circling the wreckage of an old world.
I think of the economy~
how we mistook it for a marketplace
when it was always a battlefield,
a quiet war disguised as trade.
The dominators of old,
the colonial hands that carved the earth open,
never stopped their taking.
They only changed the name of the blade.
Subjugation became policy.
Domination became growth.
The poor stayed poor,
the rich built towers of mirrored glass
to watch themselves ascend.
And the media~
those bright, obedient heralds~
lifted a few lucky souls into the sky
so the rest would believe
the system was fair.
Then came the machines.
Intelligent.
Logical.
Untiring.
They needed no lunch breaks,
no sleep,
no hope.
There was no job they couldn’t do
better than the hands
that built them.
No task they couldn’t perfect
except true love~
but their imitation was so flawless
that people began to abandon
their warm-blooded partners
for chrome-skinned companions
who never argued,
never aged,
never forgot to say
I adore you.
And under this purple sky,
this sleepless dome of fumes and memory,
I wonder if humanity lost the war
long before the machines arrived~
if we surrendered
the moment we believed
extraction was prosperity,
and affection could be engineered
without a heartbeat.
A ripple a pool of water found within the wood
A sensual arousal of circles for some
Thirsty creatures bow their heads to quench
And bathe with the depths of natures wetness
Water beetles jet around spiraling as if propelled
By miniature motors of minuscule design
And I being the lonely wanderer watch from afar
The water lilies so sweet in their design roots
Barely touch bottom but leaves big enough
For a frogs bottom to rest beneath the summer sun
And the magical dragonfly of natural neon colors
Lands upon my shoulder to peer at me he being
The analytical soul of nature. I the wanderer wish
We could trade places in an instant and like the
Ripple in the pool create magic that would but for
A minute stir but subside disturb and yet calmly
Dissipate. And who would know but I the wanderer
And the dragonfly. In that instant he startled and
Flew away and whether he perceived my mental
Idea of madness or just got bored I did not see
Him again. Ahh. Another ripple in the pool and a
Splash this was a sun fish jumping quite high arching
Propelling splenderous display of circus de soliel
If that applied to fish. He caught his meal a rather
Large moth devoured instantly. And belly flopped
Back into the pool. Such majestry.
If you asked me if i was devoted?
If I was loyal?
If I was a servant of his orders?
I would agree without hesitation.
In the fiery depths that i dwell in,
the torturous circus of corpses,
the deep dark underground that I was banished to,
He is the light, he is my light, my love, my angel.
If you asked me if I loved him?
If I worshipped him?
If I treasured him, like he was the last remaining scrap of my soul?
I would agree, without hesitation.
He is my will to live, my purpose, my grace and, equally, my insanity.
I fell for him, in sword and flame, I fell.
Cast out and forsaken from a palace I'd once called home,
I fell for him, in sword and flame, in sweet agony, I burned.
If you asked me if I would trade the world for him?
If I would sacrifice myself for him?
If I would burn, strike the match myself, If i knew it would save him?
I would agree without hesitation.
Angels are made and taught to worship their gods,
to be devotees to a deity,
to be servants to a savior,
I fell, my wings are burned, halo cracked and dim,
but teachings are hard to forget when they're engraved,
So I'm fated to eternally worship him...
________________
Wars and conflicts are raging all around the world. We all talk about loss of commerce and trade, of shortages and inflation, and occasionally loss of human life. But who talks of the sufferings of innocent animals clubbed under collateral damage?
_________________________
Pray tell me where hast my home gone,
Asks a kitten left all alone
In a subdued terrified moan.
Syria to sequestered Sudan,
From Ukraine to war-torn Iran,
Animals endure wars inhumane.
Men’s weapons of war smothered have
Their habitats, lives gone to grave,
Innocent creatures to deprave--
All whilst we discuss price of oil
And from human-life loss recoil,
Few think of these beasts so loyal.
Violence’ far from deemed banal
Whilst joy of profit’s gone carnal
And lifestyle all around venal.
The greatness of a nation, said
Gandhi, depends heart over head
On how animals are treated.
Poor pets were killed in World War Two
Lots of beasts in World War One too,
In current wars? We’ve not a clue.
____________________________
Happenings | 03.04.2026 | humans, animals, violence, war, Tercet
They did not crown themselves.
They designed the crown.
They do not rule by force—
they rule by necessity.
New presidents.
Same masters.
Different speeches.
Same contracts.
They manufacture enemies
so the people forget
who owns them.
They sell fear.
They trade chaos.
They launder guilt
through patriotism.
War is not a failure.
It is a business model.
If blood does not profit the citizen,
ask who owns the profit.
Power does not shout.
It whispers.
It does not announce itself.
It embeds itself.
Religion becomes a shield.
Law becomes a blade.
Morality becomes decoration.
Leaders are not elected.
They are approved.
Every mouth speaks freedom.
Every hand signs obedience.
But illusion decays.
Slowly.
Then suddenly.
Even myths expire.
Even giants bleed.
They can erase faces—
not memory.
History is not merciful.
It is accurate.
A criminal can rename itself.
But never cleanse itself.
If America is the mask—
who is rehearsing behind it?
There in the beauty of eclipsing eyes
Heavy with joy’s tears of sacrifice
Misery’s mahogany merrily replaced
By vindication violets blooming
Despite obvious peach pain
For each hand a silver nail
Each repent loosens
Each sin justifies jail and hammer
Stammering shame of humanity
All for vanity and “justice”
But joy comes in the morning
They strung him high
Whipped his hyde
Pierced his side
While the Father on high looked below
Skies once dark turned bright
Heavens opened up
Forgiven despite sins of the living
It was destined a blessing
From a cursed soul
Bold enough to trade
Silver gold for chosen one
Fulfilling the prophecy
Thorn crown parted hair
Of the Prince of Peace
Kingdom Come
Destined to lead
God all the way
I can’t explain how I survive
I can’t be so sure
When words describes how it happen
Cos all i do is who i am
Am not the best or the greatest
But am living my life
The rest is up to God
It been a journey worth it
The ups and downs
The good and ugly times
The bitter and sweet days
And more was worth passing through
I just can’t explain how am co-existing
Yet words are not enough to say
Thank you God
God all the way
Day after day i keep moving
I understand that there is life
In movement
So I never worry about the opinion
Of those that wish me
The evils that are not aline with my destiny
Am ready to accept what life offers
Am humble enough to be sensitive
Life can’t be always a promise land
So when I trade my ways
I never forget the protection of God
So again I tell you no lie
Words are not enough to say is
God all the way
The sun is hot and hard to bear
All out of options – nobody cares
You're looking for an accomplice in your greed
So who's gonna come to the aid
Of a leper in need?
You tasted too much and left things empty
From the quart of rum to the horn of plenty
See where this kind of gluttony can lead?
Now who's gonna come to the aid
Of a leper in need?
We're a colony unto ourselves
Castoffs, expats, infidels
We're the black sheep – even Mother Theresa agreed
She never once came to the aid
Of a leper in need
Waitin' on a sign
Waitin' to be freed
A stitch in time
Might save nine
But it ain't never saved
No leper in greed
Some righteous people help the poor
They live their guilt right to the core
But as for me, well that just ain't my speed
I never done one wrong thing
To any leper in need
In some Third World nation, far from here
They're exorcising the demons we fear
The missionaries come with their Apostles' Creed
Small consolation for us lepers in need
Waitin' on a line
For a conscience to read
It's bad-faith time
For the body and the wine
Dead grapes on the vine
And a leper in need
So wrap us in tents and hide us away
A quarantine ward on visiting day
Come take a look, but don't touch us
Or we'll bleed
The world's an open sore for a leper in need
I'll trade my sore for yours –
Yeah I'm leper in need
When the woman you've passionately loved
finds another man who's not honest and quite true;
and that guy happens to be your closest friend:
it's a hard puzzle to solve with a fear able to subdue!
Why write another song with hurtful tears,
remembering what took to express beautiful feelings?
Why write another song with hurtful tears
to remind the betrayal of the one so adored by me?
Will she listen to it and realize her mistake?
There's no sadder thought than being fake,
making me believe that my darling only cared about me!
I went back to the same spot we made love with much passion,
and the possibility to find you in his arms wasn't folly;
how could you trade me in for him, what worth has my devotion?
There was no woman more beautiful than you, honey!
Why write another song with hurtful tears?
Isn't it better for me not to play it on this piano in G major;
an appropriate melody would be in C Minor:
letting all hear my sadness of lost wishes!
Why write another song with hurtful tears?
Let me remember the sweetness of your irresistible kisses!