Long Training Poems
Long Training Poems. Below are the most popular long Training by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Training poems by poem length and keyword.
First love
It was a day in May
I was a cook at a hotel, my first
job after graduation
and the first, in our family
with proper training
I even got a certificate, it
had my name in big letters
Then, I was full of myself
I met Greta, who was the one
cleaning pans and plates
We fell in love
Never did I know that love
could be so sweet
It was like nature was on our side
flower-scented and trees
strew green leaves on our path
A summer has an ending
I had gone away to see my mother
who lived in another town
She was not at the railway station
to meet and autumnal light
The trees faded, shedding brown leaves
A love story was over
heartbroken, I joined the Navy
Now that I'm old, she is the one
I remember
For 15 years I have tolerated,
calculated, anticipated, sublimated workplace degradations, derisions,
subversions towards my character,
not today, no more,
yes, my pride has become livid, swollen like a bad bruise on the heart
and I apologize not for my self defense & righteous roil,
I will address you as the mean spirited scoundrels that you are,
no more 'boss - employee' boundry, just one human to another,
No fascade & title to prance behind, no longer above reproach from the lesser,
you are now entering the shock of the 'dead-fall' ,
buck you and your low wages, buck you and your perfect policies,
buck you and your work ethic 'mumbo jumbo',
buck you and the lame insults and false criticisms perpetrated
against my innocence and motivation,
buck you with your attempts to undermine my positive leadership,
buck you and your inconsistent hours
making a God damn yoyo out of me, buck you and your bonuses,
buck you and your preposterous training videos and ridiculous high school uniforms,
buck you and the belittling psychological questionniares connected to your applications,
buck you and your little managerial conclaves
which produce absurd machinations targeting the hourly employees
that make the place profitable,
wipe your cracks with your silly 'write ups' and legal circumspection bull-slit,
I am not your 'bro.' or 'buddy' , and I sure as shout am not your 'honey' ,
not today, not anymore
I will not allow you to treat me as a tool for your benefit,
I will no longer work faster so that you can save money & leave earlier,
you will no longer be permitted to laugh at me without redress,
you are now dealing with a Man, not just another employee number,
don't worry 'boss', I'll continue to work, I'm not gonna 'quit' ,
but I will not work for you, I am going to work with you,
today is a New Day -
J.A.B. Dedicated to all hard working Men and Women -
Piles of garbage; sounds of carnage they motion
Blurry images of malnourished children
Struggling for breath and bread
They evince; the struggles as we grow
-of how we ourselves are adversaries to our improvement, a hated compliment;
Of our lust for not the future but the moment
In bold they write
headlines with demeaning adjectives
that best describe our tribe - negros
A continent taken as just a nation
With a bunch of foolish souls
With primeval irrationality, flagrant corrupt officials:
Followers of a God that is partial.
What they will never show
Is the hope and courage dancing
In those malaria eyes
The trueness in our loose ties
They won't write,
Stories of how our crudeness
Made them their goodness
Of us being their reservoir
A training ground for their geniuses —
Perfect confirmation of their guises.
Will they ever have those eyes?
Those that see us as civilized humans
Minding our own business.
Three o’clock and Grandpa Cat Chef King
Has snagged Samantha and brought her to the ring
She is in training to win dessert eating contest at the fair.
Grandpa Cat Chef has laden the table with fancies here and there.
Surrounded by flowers and plants, maybe hiding a bird or a mouse.
Samantha is sitting at a table with fourteen dishes in his green house.
Grandpa Cat Chef King is squinting his eyes, urging her on.
Pancakes, scones, cookies, pink brownies, desserts from here to beyond.
Blueberries, strawberries, fancy garnishes and sweet tidbits galore.
Grandpa has outdone himself, She will be here ‘til four.
Oh, no, he says, you have to eat it all, I bet it will take you ‘til nine.
She starts out eating in a petite way, but is soon an assembly line.
Shoving in cream puffs and apple fritters, six cinnamon rolls.
She feels ugly and puffy, like one of those fat garden trolls.
Grandpa Cat Chef King offers her a tiny bit of cat nip special tea.
She does not dare move, for she has been hiding food where he can’t see.
She satisfies the chef, before the double heart clock strikes ten.
Come back tomorrow, he says. We have to do it again!
She rolls herself from the table, and onto the path, black.
Determining to never ever ever come back.
I Am a Veteran
By Franklin Price
11/3/2015
I am a veteran growing old
Always went where I was told
Followed orders to the “T”
Volunteered that was just me
Basic training taught a lot
Learned to march to take a shot
Make a bunk exactly right
Pulled KP into the night
Torn down to be built up
Became a dog from just a pup
When I arrived was just a kid
Left an adult you know I did
Trained in skills I did not know
Earned sixty dollars not much dough
Tried to never sing the blues
Even spit shined boots and shoes
Some skipped the draft went on the lam
I enlisted and went to Viet Nam
The year I spent the one of Tet
Of that Asian war I am a vet
My country called I answered it
For four short years I did not quit
I learned so well to handle strife
Not much else hard for all my life
Do not regret a thing at all
If young again would heed the call
Would grow up quick as I did then
Yes, I would do it all again
September 15 Scripture Meditations Based on Matthew 16-18
Key Verses– Matthew 18:2-3 And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them, And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR CONVERTING ME
Thank You for converting me toward Bible-salvation
Surely rescuing my soul from hell’s condemnation
While assuring me Your regeneration-transformation
Thus, redeeming me to enjoy eternal life’s provision.
Thank You for converting me toward faith-maturity
Surely strengthening my conviction from hypocritical religion’s falsity
While upholding me with Your truth-certainty
Thus, empowering me to overcome sinfulness’ adversity.
Thank You for converting me toward growth-fruitfulness
Surely planting my character from humanism’s barrenness
While grafting me through Your discipline-effectiveness
Thus, nurturing me to produce good works’ bountifulness.
Thank You for converting me toward servant-stewardship
Surely plucking my slothfulness from laxity’s friendship
While blessing me by Your workmanship-partnership
Thus, prodding me to labour with diligent prayer fellowship.
Thank You for converting me toward Scripture-living
Surely turning my perspective from idolatry’s cleaving
While teaching me through Your wisdom-giving
Thus, training me to persevere for godly striving.
Thank You for converting me toward supplication-fervency
Surely pulling my dependence from self’s potency
While instructing me by Your power-sufficiency
Thus, enabling me to learn with trust’s persistency.
Thank You for converting me toward blissfulness-experience
Surely bringing my spirituality from worldliness’ convenience
While molding me along Your gentleness-patience
Thus, helping me to practice willing obedience.
September 15, 2022
There is a violent war that’s not in movies.
These soldiers we lost are not seen on TVs.
Friendly fire is the biggest killer of our men.
Per soldier lost at war, at home we lost over 10.
People know of PTSD and shell shock.
But the effects must be taken stock.
We civilians don’t know what they go through.
As their mission ended with nothing left to do.
The training and survival skills do not go away.
The paranoia and fear are in the brain to stay.
Losing purpose and absent structure remain.
Leads to wild thoughts some feel are insane.
To help this issue we learn to band together.
Soldiers and civilians become of one feather.
The group is created to address the mess.
Allowing soldiers a place free to confess.
By linking all our bodies, souls and mind,
We continue the motto No Man Left Behind.
Put your feet on the ground and breathe deep.
Go up and down, quieting thoughts to a peep.
Fully balance out your body from head to toe.
Watch the changes as you reap what you sow.
Feel your body tremble working through pain.
Doing rep after rep, finding a pace to sustain.
Logging the numbers to account for the grind.
Crushing the haters you’re leaving behind.
Both internal and out keep their mouth shut.
Knock out a set and they can kiss your butt.
Suicide may have previously won the battle.
But Americans are not Grim Reaper’s cattle.
We’ve banded together to win this fight.
Saving lives at home is what’s in sight.
Whether you do many thousands or just two.
The squats can straighten out a mind screw.
Forcing the blood through our bodies quick.
Turning soft legs into muscle hard and thick.
Forging our glutes into newfound rocks.
Quieting the mental voice that mocks.
Demons can pucker and kiss our rock butts.
Squat therapy can prevent deep wrist cuts.
Connecting with distant suicide fighters.
Illuminating the dark room with lighters.
Helping one other on our physical journey.
Carrying the fallen on a virtual gurney.
The strong reach out and will carry the weak.
Forging us forward on the challenge we seek.
Some days disappoint and others we surprise.
But the goal of what we do is to open the eyes.
The experience I’m discussing is Mission 22.
It’s been an honor to share the ride with you.
So although we will approach the 2,200 soon.
The best is yet to come for us, so stay in tune!
motived by his desire to appeal to women
there attention her affection and her approval
it had been said je was nicer to women than men
it made it easier to those who oppose him to speak
against his personal desires and wants
at the heart of being a legitimate interesting person
who's interest allows those who share certain interest
to share moments and intimacies
those with a more intelligential knowing would probably
differ there opinion and look toward the needs of the man
and how the women he attracts meet his needs and wants
and find why other would wish take both who
and want he desires
any activity about interest both active and inactive
" The Clague of Desires" from GioCoso Barcarolle to
the neutralization of a note to advise accent to sforganzo were
ostinato is consistent from both ends
(from each beginning (than centered) to an end to began again)
(Poseidon (Neptune) began training to appeal to
The Goddess who were attracted to Pele)
They sipped wine on Curtis Creek
until Pele wished a certain Goddess as his own)
Written by: D. Collins 12/19/14
Being that it is now Christmas time.
Two influential people come to mind.
Although, they’re not here, I won't shed tears.
The world hasn’t a clue of what they did over the years.
From their stem you get a person like me.
Born to help others, but not instinctively.
I went through training on being good to the core.
Because, the way I was, caused many to quit before.
My Grandmother and her son never gave up on me.
Whatever they were seeing, I just could not see.
Their repeated repetition and expression of love.
Finally seeped in , and eventually woke me up.
So, like them, I pass along what I have learned.
Hoping to get through, before a life gets burned.
By putting in work, I hope that when I am gone.
I’ll be on that train that took them home.
For most of his
Bumming around days
He was lost
In dead end jobs
Once in the gym
He became a silhouette of youth
Weaving like a cobra
Slipping
Countering
Learning how to hook
Footwork and poise
A moving target
Possessing speed
And brutal power
Waiting
To connect
On
Flesh and bone.
All his life
He searched for what was missing
His dream
Was to be champion
Months
Years of solitary training
Was the price he gladly paid.
The ring waited
Patiently
Knowing that he lived for the moment
When all was a blur
Of sudden activity
Moving shadows
And the roar of the crowd.
Years go by
Another decade
Another time
The city moves on
In a singular rhythm all its own
For him
Time now stands still
In a quiet place
Of warm sunlight
Streaming through an open window
A place of
Old fight posters
And faded photographs.
He won a title
Had good times
Some laughs
Traveled with an entourage
Met the famous
Parties came and went
And so did his money.
Holding the yellowed clipping
The old thrill
Returned
He felt strong again
The bright lights were on
The roar of the crowd
Was louder than he ever remembered
The smart money and the ladies were in front
All eyes on him
Bobbing and weaving in the empty gym
He stopped to catch his breathe
Raising his hands in triumph
He knew that in the bottom of his gut
No matter what anyone said or did
In the ring
He had fought and lived like a champion.