Long Tribune Poems
Long Tribune Poems. Below are the most popular long Tribune by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tribune poems by poem length and keyword.
Diminishing virtues stripped away
From the flesh
By the fierce brined rods that freely
Course thy hot crimson blood;
Dry cracked lips attempting to
Fashion broken words of compliance
That so must needs to be spoken...
But...Ohhh, Meretrix...
My foolish and innocent child -
If you but only could!
Consider, Meretrix,..humility!
To which pleasure one thus
Submitted
Guiltily discovers:-
The joy in the act or posture of
Lowering oneself in relation to
Others.
For in your anguished dis-repair
You will find strength to endure and
Embrace:-
The acceptance of all your defects
And ultimate seduction
In the power of your:-
"Submission to Divine Grace"!
I will adorn you in the yellow Toga
Of the Vestal virgins,
They whom wise Augusta did abhor;
Burden upon you with an Imperial
Tax
Imposed by perverted Caligula:
Whither all Matronly protestations he
Didst dismissively ignore;
My Tribune forcefully exact -
When employing you in the
Degenerated role
Of my most reluctant Whore!
Clasp jeweled anklets abouts your
Shapely bones,
Decorate upon you like fired and
Painted porcelain figurines;
Whilst all the while, as your lost mind
Bemoans,
Choking between involuntary gurgles
And low-pained, stifled screams,
The gagged mouth bites down
Amidst salivating sounds
Borrowed from the hurtling
Nightmares
Of your darkest dreams!
For I will lift you higher than the
Tallest mountain peak...
So you may gaze with awe over all
The innumerable Kingdoms and their
Proud tyrant Kings;
Of the many differing species of all
Mankind type things...
And of the immeasurable riches
They so endlessly seek.
Lower you to the solitudes of the
Grassed floors
That sweep across the sunken
Valleys deep;
Where, besides enchanted streams,
Violated Nymphs quietly weep
For Abels broken schemes;
Now, tragically, all taken apart;
And for the wicked callousness
Of fallen man...
Whose desperate greeds ripped out
His live brothers still beating heart -
Then tore at the living throat of
The one true Gods Holy Lamb!
TO BE CONTINUED...
#9: Days of Paper Roses
Do the numbers--dogs don't count--just survives!
Then everything, be as close enough, still,
of this and that, thoughts begin and end, thrives,
truth betold, none were measured boundless will.
There's a bold statement, typed on front pages,
rolled off the presses, just to impress us,
splashed inklings midst papered, of such phrases,
... rolled and impressed, settles the dust--minus.
High-topped towers, the light of day, shadows,
thought-filled days, wages paid by subscribers,
of The Times, Gazettes, or Tribune Heralds,
flighters, fighters, there too were paid--writers.
Dawn paper rolls, notepads ... night closes,
they blossomed they did like rows of roses.
smeltering a soveriegnty sent forth from the center of 2 + 2
and branding beliefs with the benefits of interstellar iron,
smoke waving wakefully from flesh feeling fresh from a firefight with Freedom,
unlatching the lock of Liberty with endurance elegant & unabashed,
could Moses manackle my motivations with a burning bias,
would Augustus Caeser cruxify me for minting my own coin,
does the Magna Carta make men Subjects, represented labor,
do government classrooms train Citizens coyly
to kiss the whip of the wealthy, pledge to be collateral,
truth my Tribune, empathy my educator, ability the enabler,
decisions are for me to regret or applaud, keep your mind cuffs away,
I reserve the Right not to consent or comply with a jurisdiction outside of myself,
Right to Acquisition a promise in my purview, might the arbitraitor,
when unable to house the white fire of Spirit
I shall receive the roadway to the great Law of Consequence,
finding friendship in the Unity of immaterial community,
that campfire where sensativity to sadness stokes a heat of healing
an exodus from the conflict of passions,
an entry into natural oblivion, membership to complete comprehension -
J.A.B.
The dedication of this journalist gem
Whose writing, brought down
Drug dealing men
Eire's Sunday Tribune
And Sunday's Business Post
Newspapers of note, for in them she wrote
But it was the criminal world
And her writings so splendent
That craved her to write for the Sunday Independent
This brave reporter put her life on the line
To reveal to her country
Their drug filled slime
To avoid libel
Pseudonyms she chose
To protect the paper, from legal blows
Drug dealers uncovered
Showing their ill gotten gains
Irrespective of lives and families pains
Threats turned to visits, firing shots at her home
To deter her uncovering
In her investigative roam
Three months later she was shot in the leg
But the dedication of her
Thousands of newspapers were read
Near Newlands Cross
On the outskirts of Dublin
On a motorbike, two men with a gun
At a traffic light junction
With a Magnum .357
Ireland's Journalist Jewel, was taken to heaven
The name of this gem
Veronica Guerin
" In memory of a brave woman, wife and mother who took on the
criminal underworld in Dublin, Eire "
Wake Up My Children! Wake Up!
A creature of many faces stalks you,
A human chameleon devoid of soul.
He hides not in the shadowy corner,
But among you, under the unwary eye.
Do not be fooled by this great pretender;
A white hat may adorn his head,
But blackness fills his vacant heart.
Be wise my children! Beware!
He's the crown prince of trickery.
He's the grand master of disguise.
This creature can masquerade in godly robes
while writhing painfully under their holiness.
Evil can spout prophetic words like a tribune
while the lie festers under his tongue.
He's a true disciple of the damned.
Wake up my children! Wake up!
Do not be mesmerized by this alluring creature.
With his apparent straight talk and honesty
He can make you a mindless believer.
But he's a liar and a charlatan.
He hides behind a wall of illusion,
Preying on the fears of the ignorant,
And captivating the ears of the innocent.
When getting it right is a must:
what sources do you trust?
Opinions moved like glacial frost
While Jews died in the holocaust.
When Nazis killed civilians in Lidice
revenging the murder of Reinhard Heydrich
The herald Tribune did agree
This was not the imagination of a refugee.
But that's because the Nazis said they did it.
In other cases, skeptics couldn't fit it.
British officials complained about Poles and Jews
Trying to "stoke us up" with fake news.
They didn't want to waste time on "wailing Jews"
Odd, because there were plenty of clues.
U.S. pollsters found to nine out of ten
It was all "propaganda lies" to them.
Then G.I.'s took photos of what they'd seen
Disbelief remained, slate had to stay clean.
One G.I. told his parents what he saw at Dachau
They balked, some thoughts couldn't allow.
Who do you trust also came to the fore
When J Edgar Hoover chose to ignore
a warning from Dusko Popov of the Japanese plan
to attack Pearl Harbor, didn't trust the man.
Dusko was a womanizer, but he was on our side
His behavior Mr. Hoover could not abide
Ignoring those flaws could have saved the fleet
What would God think in the judgement seat?
Sometimes truth is too big to believe
Even when perps don't bother to deceive.
It is true the world has propaganda lies
Both truth and falsehood can wear a disguise.
How long will I be free?
In this great county of sovereignty.
Will my rights be taken soon?
Or, will we the people; sing our last tribune?
Will I still have a right to choose?
Or, will we be puppets of the governments muse?
Will I loose my freedom to worship?
Or, in the end will we be larruped?
Will I still have freedom to own land?
Or, will we have to give up everything in the end?
Will I still have a right to bare arms?
Or, will we have to succumb to harm?
Will we have to give up all our freedoms?
Will we be able to salute to our flag and sing our athem?
If the goverment has its way.
We will all loose our say.
When it is all said and done..
Our freedom and rights will be gone.
Go! New York Herald Tribune! Yell it, Jean!
I think that Marcel Proust once owned that condo.
Belmondo never acts – he’s just Belmondo.
You’re no Liz Taylor – no Egyptian queen –
So, New York Herald Tribune! Your big scene!
Were you too young to play the chick in “Hondo”?
This is the age of “Cuando, Cuando, Cuando” –
No singer, you? Lee Marvin’s never been!
You didn’t do the cop shows (I know why),
or enter those kung-fu things, like The Dragon:
auditioning is hard. The FBI
observed you as you tried to paint your wagon.
Was Iwo Jima where you chose to die,
or just a place for guys to pin a flag on?
*Image of Presentation on Three Stooges by Coshocton Tribune.
Curly and Shemp
*Jerome Lester Horwitz,
often dimmer than your wits,
famously known as Curly Howard, one of the three stooges,
his slapstick comedy split our sober from laughter like being in centrifuges.
*Samuel Horwitz,
a mind filled crackers, no ritz,
Lithuanian Jewish mom says "Sam" with her accent came out "Shemp",
like the original three, ad-libbing and wisecracks, **filled baby bro's shoes as his temp.
*Five brothers; Irving, Benjamin, Samuel (Shmuel), Moses (Moe), Jerome (Curly)
**Curly's ill-fated stroke caused Shemp to return as his original stooge self or Moe and Larry comedy series would have ended.
2021 September 29
*2nd Place*
Clerihew 2
~~Joseph May: Judged 2021 October 29
The Three Stooges
My maternal grandfather died when I was just seven!
Most certainly he is honored with special joy in heaven.
He left his art work at the Basilica of Notre Dame in Indiana
Those artistic, lighted fixtures you see hanging down
Are his creations,he must ride on his own heavenly cloud!
It makes me wonder....what will I leave behind of beauty?
That inspires human souls, to look up to God and in gratitude,
On this earth, perform His work witn joyous duty!
He created Art Deco Doors at the Chicago Tribune Towers,
Peoplle walked through those doors and worked for hours,
Upon hours.
Tribute to my Grandfather, Stanley of blessed memory.
Love, Panagiota
10/13/2020
Opus #3