Long Tradition Poems
Long Tradition Poems. Below are the most popular long Tradition by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tradition poems by poem length and keyword.
He listens for my integrity;
our highest and best destiny
As if interred in our children's
still living oral tradition
Then captured in post-millennial
historic textbooks
on cooperative eco-politics
Illustrating what I did
and did not do
for/against future regenerous climate health
when these same children experience
their children's
children
appearing resilient
against degeneratively persistent
health wealthing doubt.
What I have imagined doing
win/win with others
I have seldom done.
What we have cooperatively planned doing
win/win with and for and of others
we have seldom undone.
What I have not imagined doing
by my self
investment
he could not easily imagine
to proclaim health
resiliently accomplished
ReInvesting more
in what would otherwise remain personal turf
behind some gilded
and tightly closed
front door
of alternating deep peaceful solitude
and further anticipation
of comfortably laureled silence,
Enough,
at last,
he said
With my righthand
lonely panic
writing in lamenting internal voices
Waiting for his first large-staged break
into an appreciative and prepared audience
to receive each other's great health-systemic wisdom
wealthing win/win networks
As transubstantiated
by our own integrity experience.
What an unfree newspaper writes
According to a leading English newspaper
the alarm is the upcoming election
will labor be back in power
like that would be different from now
England (not Britain) is meddling in the war
in Ukraine, which is not of her concern
England, which had once been a colonial power
has a long tradition in military tradition
going to war against the reluctant masses
this since the cousin of Queen Victoria's cousin
was shot by the communists
and therefore crossing the red line
which is historical
England is a small, but the Nobel classes are a baggage
of arrogance, they won, we are told about
one the last war.
No, that England is a second-rate military
might they not help but think they are relevant
Great English writers were at odds
with the upper classes hanging on to violence
but habits die hard
the noble call to arms by the noble
represented by a dusty kingdom is still
there, it is a call that can't
be resisted, we are still a great nation
not for us to be Holland
She peruses the paper each morning, and the cartoons for laughs
Then she reads letters from the public
Most of these letters are responded to by her staff
She is briefed daily on matters of policy and politics
She meets privately with the prominent and those of fame
And gives out awards and medals
She is from a tradition of times medieval
If she knights you, Sir, precedes your name
When meeting her, women curtsy
While gentlemen bow to Her Majesty
She has reigned with grace
And is loved by people from many places
The daughter of King George VI and Queen Elizabeth
Her accession to the throne was in 1952
After her father's death
In 1953 she became Queen Elizabeth Ii
On the hunt to find one
Painted eggs wait for me
Hide and seek, let's go play
The game's begun early
On this Easter Sunday
On the hunt to find one
Wooden basket in hand
The orange egg was mine
Lying there in plain sight
'Neath the rising sunshine
On the hunt to find one
Shaded by my bonnet
The blue egg was sky high
Nestled in an oak limb
Hidden, and acting shy
On the hunt to find one
That dear old Bunny placed
Low 'neath a tulip stem
Pink and purple eggs sat
Just my eyes noticed them
On the hunt to find one
Skipping my way along
The middle of the hills
A yellow egg I seek
Lost amongst daffodils
On the hunt to find one
Spying the last green egg
Amidst the grass so tall
I ran back to Mother
Shouting, "I found them all!"
Firecracker, look at you go
Sparking, spitting, flying by,
Putting on quite a show
For every Fourth of July
Bang! There goes the first
Crack! Goes number two,
Snap! The third one burst
Pop! For the red, white and blue
Let freedom ring out
Independence for us all,
One day a year to shout
Hear all voices call
When we can't say this
And we can't do that,
In a country amiss
Where freedom's at
Long gone is the way
Of such prim and poise,
Today, all of us can say
Let's make some noise
Bang! There goes the first
Crack! Goes number two,
Snap! The third one burst
Pop! For the red, white and blue
Sparking, spitting, flying by
Putting on quite a show,
For every Fourth of July
Firecracker, look at you go!
In the Druid tradition an inspired Bard was said to possess "bird's knowledge." Druid shamans would dress in cloaks of bird feathers to perform certain ceremonies, and divination would be practiced by observing the flight of birds. In trance, the Druid would enlist the aid of his bird spirit-ally to fly to other realms, or would transform himself into a bird on the inner planes to accomplish a certain task. Each type of bird represents different qualities, evokes different experiences, and has different gifts for the Druid: the eagle brings renewal, the wren humility, the swan grace, the raven initiation. The hawk, whether kite, harrier, merlin, goshawk, or sparrowhawk, can give nobility and stature, dignity and pride. I once heard that a Cherokee shaman had to turn into a hummingbird in order to find the lost tobacco seed, in their mythology, it was brought to them by the hummingbird.
/|\
The colonial mentality
Penetrated our mind and heart;
We as people felt inferior
Race after the raiders depart.
Such invaders like the Spanish
Had influenced our attitude;
We had followed their tradition,
Thinking that those customs were good.
After we were colonized by
The United States from the west;
Yes, another culture prevailed,
As we thought that it was the best.
After we were slaved by the men
From the land of the rising sun;
We thought that the Japanese were
Superior race with their own gun.
We believed that their products were
Practically in highest grade;
We were convinced to patronize
Everything that was Japan-made.
Spain, US, and Japan are just
Powerful and truly mighty;
This is the main reason why we
Have colonial mentality.
I am now daydreaming of a Christmas like none that I have ever experienced.
I am now writing and musing over the prospects of such becoming a reality.
I like tradition, but occasionally I get bored and stray from the beaten path.
A Christmas tree is filled with ornaments that speak of family members
and memories. There are 16 ornaments plus one for our dog named Jack.
9 family members and Jack have passed on, and 7 of us remain. The rest
of the tree ornaments are names of places we've lived and great friends
we've made. Under the Christmas tree are boxes representing the deceased
and the myriad of memories that live forever in our hearts. On this
Christmas Eve night, we are gathering for dinner which would
normally be followed by the opening of gifts. But not on this
Christmas Eve 2022. We all are enjoying a delicious meal of
the finest gumbo we'd ever eaten. Afterward, as if beckoned by a second feast, some are sitting and others are standing around the tree and speaking of the many gifts of life, love, and memories we have received from those represented on the tree who have passed on. The gumbo was great and even better was the second feast.
113022PS
*Fiction
Laughter of children and the dull clatter of small feet on aged wood. The congestion of men's voices with talk of crops, rain, and "remembering when". The faintly drowned-out sound of a stray hand unafraid to tickle long unused ivory. There, the aroma of well-planned dishes lay in wait to ambush and overwhelm the senses of those who will partake. The pride of a husband as his wife is washed in praise for her contribution. A communion of kind souls, the fellowship of close neighbors and friends. A vision carried on from a not-so-distant past. Where one could marvel at the magic of a fond smile and find comfort in a firm handshake that wordlessly informs, "you are a welcome sight".
From early in life
She longs for the day to marry
to become united in one
searching out all who pass by
She strives to look Her best
throughout each day
being careful not to encounter stains
on Her dress She longs to wear
while in time it gets dirty
slowly taking over the white
detergent can no longer control
this world will make an attempt
to make it impossible for Her to find Her mate
For She might see all hope is gone
and wander this life in distress
as many, She has seen in tradition do
therefore She stumbles around in the crowd
for the veil over Her eyes
blocks out the light
She cries out for Her mate
One which can lift the veil
The bridegroom comes to Her call
She calls Him Jesus
He was able to wash Her dress
to remove every stain
when nothing else would work
She stands there glowing in white
As Jesus pulls up the veil
Her eyes light up to a new day
bringing forth a new creation
of love not from this world She had known
In leaving this earthy father
uniting with Jesus
walking down the path
to learn of Her heavenly father
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