Long Trade in Poems
Long Trade in Poems. Below are the most popular long Trade in by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trade in poems by poem length and keyword.
The world of business
is riddled with traps
I tried to start
an intenent business
So good were their words
we make money
when you make money
the promise of lies
Internet scams
poor people trying
to make at the expense
of someone else
of course, it was a scam
Financially I am not
the one to follow
but with a world
Real financial experts
surely we could find
people to trust
people that can invest
and grow companies
people that can
make a profit
and payout dividends from shares
people that can help build economies
saving ten dollars per week
you are looking at an investment
of five hundred and twenty dollars per year
If you had invested in micro soft
how year after year how much
would you be worth
could you invest more
It'd your life
you can do whatever you want
you can save a hundred dollars per week
it's your money
granted with every investment
there is a risk
you can lose your money
people do lie cheap and steal
but investments create jobs
investments stimulate economies
half the problem we have today
was caused by greed
People wanting to make money
from selling houses
lowered interest rates
sold houses to people
that couldn't afford them
put up interest rates
made the homeowners
take out insurance
So if they failed to pay
they made money
from the insurance company
an insurance company collapsed
because they couldn't afford the debt
like a deck of dominoes
the whole system started to struggle
one country after another
started having financial problems
markets dried up as economies failed
we didn't end up, in a depression
because we had things like social welfare
Our ancestors had created
but we are all apart of the same world
healthy economies in other country's
buy the products from your country's
The world needs to look at the balance
between the needs of all economies
When Mahatma Gandhi improve the textile
trade-in India it devastated
The textile trade in other countries
I'm not the expert but if we build
industry in India
I believe that is what great man achieved
Industry, that India requires
to create employment for India
Industry, that we all need to have
healthy economies
We need to do it in a way
that creates balance,
improving the economies of all
countries
There was a shouting in town, everyone was saying
Be careful all the ladies ,The trader of love is coming to our city
He'll knock the door of every house But keep the lock on
Once you see him in the eye, inevitable is leaving his sight
The guy:
I AM a magician a magician
most charming of lovers
I take a heart and give one in return
I am the person who trade in love
I won the game of hearts by losing my own
Whatever people say about me is fallacious
I don't do seduction neither before taking heart I ask for permission
I am a magicain A magician, I have the magic of love
The girl who fall in love:
My heart was lonely
You played the game of love so beautifully
That I often lie awake all night long
My heart my brain everything is bewilder
Since the moment you have crossed my path
O magician of Love, O magician of love
With your games you have conquered my heart
Now after stealing my peace, my heart and my sleep
Don't you go anywhere with all these things
Why you tantalize me by coming in my dreams
Making me plunge in air but reality turning into grief
My heart is yours, so come in these arms
O white women, my lover is different
He's a white man, the best in millions
His hairs are as blonde as pieces of gold
His eyes are as that of dove, wash by milk and full of love
His lips are like scarlet and lillies, his cheeks as red as rose
Are you really so beautiful or is it an illusion
O tell me na, you are a magician, a magician
Through the way of my eyes, you enter the path to my heart
Just like the serpent of Eden, you have stuck me in vortex
By showing the desire of love, you have made me a lover
The girls are now curious whether you'll stay or not
I am mad in your love, have mercy on my condition
Show me your magic, O magician O Magician
And the guy replied I am a magician a magician
The most charming amongst lovers
I can eviscerate your heart in seconds
And your senses will be finish,
The only thing you'll do shall be to love me
Don't you dare think me wrong
I have written your name on my heart's wall
Keep your carriage ready, your veil on
Any second I am coming to take you home
Just wait a few day, don't worry about my reputation
I am different now I am a magicain a magician,
50 lines
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It's true that I was in town
When the trumpet sound
And soldiers came down
Spilling like ants on the ground:
Heralding the royal feast!
The Gods have had their seats
To celebrate the poet from the east
Whose lyrical prowess beats
The best they've ever heard.
It is heavenly inspired:
The lines of this bard,
His hands neither slack nor feel tired.
Here, the bard comes
Clothed in divine grace!
Let the trumpet sound; beat the drums
Let the world seek his face
For he has the power to heal.
His lines drew angels down
And make kings to kneel.
Let him have his prized crown.
Such is the power of poetry,
It is universal; devoid of bigotry.
It is the king's treasure,
It is a soldier's pleasure.
In that stately estate,
In that heavenly state,
Only to the brave
Would the sky be a grave.
It's true that everyone would die
Someday, that is why
If ever the poet should die;
Let his pen ascend to the sky,
Let heaven and earth mourn,
Let their tears turn to blood;
Let the graceful muses mourn,
Let their tears cause a flood
For the loss is without measure.
But there's end to every beginning
That's why the poet we should treasure
So that if he dies, he dies smiling.
Let the fire from his pen burn
First, in the heart of men
Then to the streets let its face turn,
Let it scorch the land till when
It has reached the palace and its tower
There too let it burn and smoke;
Let it bring every knee under its power,
Let it bring every neck under its yoke.
Such is the power of poetry,
It is universal; devoid of bigotry.
It is the king's treasure,
It is a soldier's pleasure.
In that stately estate,
In that heavenly state,
Only to the brave
Would the sky be a grave.
It's true that poets can be made
As much as they can be born,
There are those who trade in charade;
Who cannot our admiration won.
Behold the ancient bard!
Behold, in the morning he rises
With his book and ink in hand;
As sparkles flash from his eyes.
When in early morning birds are yet mute,
His countenance is always plain
He does not argue nor refute
But undisturbed he always remain!
In the abode of the poet
There is grandeur and majesty
Befitting a grand laureate poet
And a monument of modesty;
He is the poet at heaven's gate
Who have ran a fine race
He will never be late
He holds the ace.
I had been placed in chains
Where the cripples shed their canes
And the blind regained the art of seeing.
It was a robbers’ den
And as all God fearing men,
I had assets needed freeing.
Sometimes the poet’s muse
Is a bride who will refuse
All his conjugal solicitations.
He must lure to bed
Any tramp that turns his head
With unchaste alliterations:
And so it goes...
He’d lived his life alone
In a hermitage of stone
Where he rang those bells for all occasions;
Like the feasts of saints,
For the widows’ sad complaints,
And for joyous celebrations.
It's said confusion rules
At the Festival of Fools
And the scene below just seemed to prove it.
So he clambered down
And was regent of the crown
Till Claude Frollo’s hand removed it.
He smelled her perfumed hair
From across Cathedral Square
And the fragrance soothed his loss of hearing;
For her silent dance
Cast a soul ensnaring trance
Both enticing and endearing.
She was a barefoot girl
With her gypsy skirt a swirl
As the minstrels played a tarantella;
Graceful as fabric spun
From a gently setting sun,
And he pined for Esméralda.
But when the maid fell hard
For the Captain of the Guard
As a villain plotted her seduction,
His trust was put to test
On a futile, wicked quest
In abetting her abduction.
And so he bore the blame
When the warden called his name
As they bared his back to take a whipping.
He felt each lash stroke bleed,
The injustice of the deed
Set those righteous scales to tipping.
While the Archdeacon's kin,
Who was guilty of the sin,
Stalked the halls as Satan’s emissary,
A young girl’s tortured plea
Brought his fool to guarantee
Esméralda's sanctuary.
In a defiant act
When the rebel mob attacked,
He strained his crooked back to save the maiden;
And called the angels home
With the tolling of Guillaume,
Like hard currency to trade in.
He ran from wall to wall,
Hurling curses at them all,
Raining molten lead down on the rabble,
From the gargoyles’ throats
To the beggars’ ragged coats
In a symphony of babble.
But it was all in vain;
He could laugh himself insane,
Still those oaken doors were being battered,
And the dénouement
Left his ashes in the straw,
Proving love was all that mattered.
Let Haiti be absolutely free
Haiti is the father of Freedom and Liberty
Haiti is the first nation to forever ban or abolish slavery
And the slave trade in the western hemisphere
And in the world
The first to practice absolute equality
Among men and women on this sphere
And throughout the world
Stop meddling and interfering detrimentally with Haiti
Leave Haiti alone to be absolutely free
Haiti is the first nation to dig up and plant the seed of freedom
For the world to unfortunately follow with pure hypocrisy
Haiti is the first country to denounce false democracy
Haiti is the first leader to choose martyrdom
The first oasis to defeat colonialism in the Americas
Haiti is where was born the first buzz of jazz
The first beat and cry of “We Shall Overcome”
Haiti is the first country that they tried to betray
Haitians are the first unsung Heroes to die for Liberty and Freedom
Thanks to Haiti that many people are living free today
Since Haiti had spread the incense throughout the world
“Live free or die; Freedom or Death”. Leave Haiti alone to live
They made Haiti poor, undesirable, dangerous and unsafe
By supplying weapons to knuckle heads, teenagers and youngsters
They damned Haiti with crazy terrorists, thieves, bandits and gangsters
In daylight, they tried to push Haiti down the steepest cliff
Yes, they robbed, looted, poisoned, and they miserably failed
To dwarf, to kill Haiti and his noble dreams after numerous invasions. Leave
Leave Haiti so Haiti can be Haiti, let Haiti swim as Haiti pleases
Regardless of what one hears
Haiti is a nice piece of land with smart and proud Nègres
And brave and valiant men and women with small and big toes
Who will fight and shed blood, sweat and tears
To defend Haiti Chérie. Give justice to Haiti by any means
And help Haiti getting rid of the ungrateful criminals and the vermins
Haiti will underwhelm, rise and rise again in the Caribbean Seas
Because Haiti is peaceful, patient, lovely, adamant and resilient
Haiti’s children are watching and they are highly intelligent.
N.B. By the way, Nègres like ******* is not offensive to us, Haitians, however, ‘nizzers’ is insulting.
Copyright © November 2023, Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
I am promenading in the woods
Whistling at the birds
The rays of the sun
Now and again interrupting my vision
Then something moves
Something- like a woman
Her glamour- what say?
I halt- the power attending
How very smashing
She moves, actually peacocks
Towards me; closer, closer
Now I am all smiles
All smiles and tears
Her arms outstretched
Mine, too, outstretched
We are now drawing closer
we are moving
Like we were on the moon
With a spring, bouncing
Slowly towards an embrace
Eyes, ears, arms and smiles
The whole machine feeling for company
Full of nothing but joy
As the distance between us narrows
I hear small bells tolling
I hear small babies pattering
I hear the laughter of maidens
And as we lock our arms together
In a violent embrace
There in the woods
I see beautiful nymphs
All around our embrace
Holding their parasols high
Dancing to the reggae
In the tropical sun
All this I see, and more…
I notice that while locked we stood
With my bountiful beloved
A thousand maidens emerge
All in white and with roses
And yellow scarves
In each hand a bouquet
Of the best assortment of flowers
On their lips stands a song
Which I know to one
Composed by a great poet
To all that trade in marriage
I smile at my beloved
The queen of my soul
And as we walk in state
I see gold in her finger
And more on mine
I kiss her brow and lo!
The perfume!
The diamonds surrounding!
Then the doors of the cathedral
Open in front of us
At the pulpit- the bishop
His eyes raised above us
The Holy Book in place
And on either side
The attendants:
All practitioners of the faith!
We step inside the edifice
The congregation stands
And sings a welcome;
The train behind us
The bishops and attendants
The tolling of the bells
The bride and maids
And I the Prince.
All these I see, and more…
As we seal the pact
And vow to God
To be, now and always
Till death do us part
And set our hands
To ‘these presents’
I see twins at the brook
By our country home
Playing hide and seek
And mother and father
Standing hand in hand
Watching them, bemused
And I see a house
Happy and prosperous
Where dwell two pretty maidens
And three handsome lads
And the greatest promise
Sealed in the woods
Is kept.
And I wake up
To the ticking of the clock
After the hour of eight
And all the sorrows of bachelorhood
Come knocking at my door!
Oh beautiful Gypsy,
I see you there, in amber campfire mist.
On the banks of a crystalline pool, a bronze skinned lovely moving with intoxicating rhythm to the strum of guitars.
Sable eyes, gleaming with wanderlust, transfixed on distant dreams. Raven hair sheens cobalt blue, in glow of a pale full moon.
The tethered babushka and brilliant layered skirt, your banners of freedom. Knee high boots clad dancing feet, in a feverish itch to perform on new stages. Your opulence, jingle jangling from dainty wrists and pierced lobes, echoes the hypnotic song of rattling tambourines.
A blissful celebration in your enchanted home of nebulous walls forged of the four winds.
Oh beautiful Gypsy;
Last of the true migrants, paying homage only to purity of your clan. The devout mystic, whose babes suckle the nectar of white magic.
Your larder bulges fat, having labored a deconstructed nine to five.
A harmonious oneness with nature, your forte, honed to perfection in compassionate artistic crafts. With gentleness, you bring calm obedience to the untamed steed. In thoughtful consideration, parleying the fate and fortune of the gadjo, eager to lay down their silver and gold for charms and spells.
You trade in good faith only to be slandered in whispers of vagabond and theif. Your colorful lifestyle, jaded to a monotone hue of envious green.
A hopeless romantic smothered in Judas kisses.
Oh beautiful Gypsy,
Even as you celebrate in this newly discovered place, it's freshness grows stale to your delicate senses.
A bohemian lineage begs you go before the next cock crows.
The insatiable hunger to feast your eyes on unfamiliar lands pangs your very essence.
It has proven to be far too great for you to abstain; for it is the morrow.
A radiant sunrise reveals an abandoned starry eyed reflection lingering on a lonesome pond.
The scent of pungent garlic, rich brew and sweet tobacco hovers, as a perfumed phantom, in the desolate air.
Tracks of your wagon wheels flow through emerald meadows like a lazy river, avoiding stagnation.
Conformity lies choking in the dust of your painted caravan.
A nomadic soul in dreamy persuit of the horizon that looms forever in the distance.
Till we never meet again,
Oh beautiful Gypsy
Imagine all the people
who trade in human life,
imagine all the reasons
given to this particular vice.
I visualize the rivers
that run with coagulated blood,
I visualize the tyrant
that stir the waters good!
Imagine all the evil
where nightmares are conceived,
imagine all the weepers
locked in harmony.
I visualize a great peace
when man is down and out,
I visualize a yearning
to stir up warring lout!
Imagine all the carrion
fleeing this earthly scroll,
imagine all the zombies
them humans without soul.
I visualize the populous
with only one track mind,
I visualize the despotic master
not too far behind!
Imagine all the wrongdoers
that wait for the morrow,
imagine all the innocent
with aggravated sorrow.
I visualize his disciples
locked in earthly battle,
I visualize all intellect
smitten with ancient prattle!
Imagine all the dreamers
that dream in psycho colours,
imagine all the dead ones
John Lennon and others.
I visualize the sky
that reflect the sombre waters,
I visualize the time
they’ll be no virgin daughters!
Imagine all the children
born with colour blindness,
imagine all the peace
driven by human kindness.
I visualize a new order
maybe for the best?
I visualize the establishment
being put to the test!
Imagine all the people
with lives of eternal bliss,
imagine all the barriers
created when living with this.
I visualize heaven here
in this heathen place,
I visualize the angel
in pure virgin white lace!
Imagine all the new born
scanner pattern at birth,
imagine all of today’s crime
eliminated through death.
I visualize a dossier
of PLC news speak,
I visualize authoritarianism
of every aspect!
Imagine all the cloning
created for human part,
imagine all the respect
donated to this particular art.
I visualize the unscrupulous
desperate for existence,
I visualize the farm of haste
the plough of insistence!
Imagine, Mother Shipton
prophecies all came true,
imagine only one statement fails
the end of the world.
I visualize even then
common sense will prevail.
I visualize only Jesus Christ
will forecast the ultimate end!
© Harry J Horsman 1993
It is time to change the gear
you are causing a mountain of fear
people are running to and fro
looking for a safe place to go
the cars are climbing slowly up the hill
and there is a traffic jam and I hope
that you can understand.
Nothing is coming and nothing is going
the heat is raging and everyone is complaining
meet me in the conference room at three
I have something important to tell thee
bring the team with you and you must
not leave until you tie up the loose ends
and transfer the lion out of the den.
Ego is flying from tree to tree absorbing my
innate energy we have wasted so much time
up and down the galaxy looking for that single
proof that water is on the roof the distance you
travel to merge day into night is over a million
miles and you repeat the pattern from time to time.
At the stroke of a pen you have shaken the world
with just one word you have broken the deal
spilling venom on the street, all the work that
was done in previous years has suddenly
disappeared in thin air
and we are right back where we begin.
What are you going to do?
are you going to let your pride falls
through the roof you have got to change
gears before the universe disappears, the
people are crying desperately over there
and there is no one to care.
Some things are just not feasible
for they create lots of evil
you have to make a lot of adjustment for them to
make sense, you are walking on thin line
and you must change gears to get it right
For what reason did you brought me here
when you have created so much fear
the damage is already done and destiny is on the run
It is not the time to brag and boast or indulge
In self-praise, make up a different agenda
some executive plans will not work
they will sink right into the earth
and leave some men without shirt
Take the meat off the bone
and make a call to the Vatican
in Rome you have got to get
everyone on the same page
Lest you wipe out the human race
You have to change the gears
and eliminate the factor that
is causing people to fear
Trade in all the stick-shift
and begin the negotiation at six.
My friend ,
You have accused me
Of stealing the color from a butterfly
Of your town.
I tore out of some garden, you say,
A sapling of gulmohar
And planted it
In a desolate and barren cemetery.
Just as the coral tree
Has bitter roots,
So, in my heart,
Lies sin!
I am degenerate, immoral,
You have judged me to be vile!
I am well aquainted with pain and have deliberately
Made it my power.
I am a bird of prey and do not care
For the friendship of little birds.
My colors are false,
I am a dishonest dyer!
The inky serpent of fame
Lies around my neck
And strikes, with my songs,
Little heart-baskets!
My pain, like Ashwathaama’s
Is never-ending!
You remind me that my body-room
Will disintegrate soon enough.
In exchange for fragrant songs
I trade in wombs.
I am, you write
A very adolescent trader.
You say that a shadow
Is a child of light.
It is not the duty of a shadow
To separate.
The duty of a shadow is
Devotion to light.
In light, to always be ahead,
And to extinguish itself in light.
Even a bird can fly away
If is miserable in its cage.
But each day
I catch and discard new birds.
The reason I do this, you say, is that I covet just one thing,
The sorrow in my soul.
Because every song I sing,
Is a song of sorrow.
You also write
About one butterfly.
The butterfly who spent a short time
In my garden,
The butterfly with a weakness for,
Silver flowers,
The butterflywho desired,
Golden stars.
Her face was sweet,
Like the moon in a desert.
My songs
Were very dear to her.
You considered me
A son of Saraswati,
Today your opinion about me
Is altered!
At the end you have written
That I ought to be ashamed of myself!
That I should drown myself
In a tub of acid!
I should take my sick self -
Along with my songs -
And leave the environs
Of your town today!
Society has no need
Of my worthless sorrows!
I should be fighting for
The rights of workers!
I ought to disperse the color
Of my beloved
To the grain in the fields.
I ought to take the sorrow of the world,
And set it, like a jewel, in a ring of songs!