Long Unschooled Poems

Long Unschooled Poems. Below are the most popular long Unschooled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unschooled poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Hitched

Nagging mate
                framing blame in accusations
Beliefs fed on
              self deception
Pressure valves bursting
Calm reason hijacked
No loveseat reception

Words peel off
             unfiltered
             unschooled
             unheard
             through spent thoughts
             of love
             complications in
             a jagged code of conduct

Toxic infusion
             a mate's cactus grin
             desert prickly
             an "I do" wasteland
             
Banter
              burly
              bitter
              black icing on a wedding cake

              ditched
              shifting possibility


Premium Member Balloon Heads

Balloon heads float amongst the breeze 
Filled with nothing, lack of education- they bawl 
Inequality from different ethnicities across the seas 

Seventy-two million children unschooled- please 
Poverty stricken- we must try to help them all 
Balloon heads float amongst the breeze 

Over seven-hundred and fifty million adults are illiterate- geez 
Girls least likely to receive education- damn that wall 
Inequality from different ethnicities across the seas 

undeveloped brains- be'eth the sizes of peas  
Deprived from knowledge their brains will remain small 
Balloon heads float amongst the breeze 

The rights to educate we must not seize 
If we doth not rise- they will fall 
Inequality from different ethnicities across the seas 

I pray for them- down on my knees 
Let the world hear my beckon call 
Balloon heads float amongst the breeze 
Inequality from different ethnicities across the seas  


A Major World Problem Poetry Contest 
Sponsor: L Milton Hankins 
4/27/2021

Premium Member Peerless Poker Power

I dreamt of sending a spiritual invite
but only could arrange to hold it at night.
The famous gentleman card players who came
all met to reveal more of this powerful game.

Since I was the only one not yet dead,
they charged me to tell what they had said.
Players from beyond of legend and lore
thinking thoughts never spoken before.

Amidst green felt table and shaded dim light
The Cincinnati Kid's quips could delight.
James Bond's repartee appeared to confound,
thwarting terrorists' revolt plans profound.

Certainly, one memorable hand of these greats
was Doc Holliday's renowned aces and eights.
Also, there was unassuming Bret Maverick
up his sleeve he had always some clever trick.

Though losers can be dealt a high value hand
only winners can bend what's real on demand.
They're keen reading what others are thinking
then making bold bets without ever blinking.

The only card game that we know of so far,
when everyone wonders what the winning cards are.
If all players drop, the winner may not show,
unique ploys and options, only experts know.

At games there's allowed some light table chatter,
to fools unschooled, it seems not to matter.
Only those at the table say when the game ends
most of the time they all depart peers and friends.

As the famous gents invited did all say
there's much more power in poker today.
So far above what other games can claim
now beyond doubt, it's the greatest card game.
© Greg Gaul  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Couplet

The Examination

Listless images swirl up from tangled seaweed.
Instead of going home to study
a youth stayed on at a topless bar.

This reoccurring nightmare is a parody,
a Dahliesque floor show of every
melting, pants down moment.

Unschooled for future-shock, ill-equipped
for long forgotten questions;
scruffy owls hoot in an empty lecture hall
as a mind reacts with a jittery dread.

A lost post-graduate thesis rides on a city bus,
passengers sit on it as they come and go;
the manuscript is deeply buckled
with butt cheeks.

No time to revise the unprepared.
Dimples of anxiety indent a head trip.
Despondency envelopes.

At any moment,
eyes will open above a pool of sweat,
then blink stupidly
as they have done - often and repeatedly
for the last 45 years.

Premium Member The ballad of Kathy Hochul

Kathy Hochul took the reins,
Governor of the Empire State,
Promised fairness, promised change,
But for hope, you have to wait.

(chorus)
Kathy Hochul, you may get the vote,
But NY can't sail if you sink the boat.
You tell us it's patriotic that we should pay,
But taxes and crime drive the base away.

She started a fund for minorities
The drug war hurt them a lot
So now we'd have cannabis equity
funds to help them sell pot.

Pronouns changed in college dorms,
Nonbinary identity got a name,
An "X" upon official forms,
If you're not a man, and not a dame.

A fund for transgender types
You might wonder what's the need:
You might develop gripes
When you see the budget bleed.

Jobs for migrants, sanctuary laws,
No vetting at the gate,
But Republicans shouldn't stay
Their values don't match the state

Cash bail had to disappear,
That's what justice requires,
Critics warned of streets of fear,
But she threw gas on the fire.

(bridge)
A cop was killed by a repeat offender,
His family dressed in black,
Policemen booed her at the wake
She didn't have their back

"Incarcerated individuals,"
The new phrase was decreed,
Two short syllables became ten,
For a progressive creed.

Health care should be 'single payer.'
Voters should not need ID.
Demanding this was a burden
For an unschooled minority..

We have labels, funds, forms, and tax
But deeper troubles grow,
And every year more neighbors ask
If it's time for them to go.

You could be minority, you could hate ICE.
You could vape, your gender could be "X"
At the end of the day, do you thrive?
Ask Kathy Hochul for a government cheque.
Form: Lyric


Locked Up But Still Free

LOCKED UP

Not an ordinary day in a garden where nature smiles at us, 
canopied with the blue sky, the flowers in their autumn beauty 
with the freshest hue. lulled by the infinite scent of nature, 
melodies from unschooled professionals echo above 
as the evening breeze gently touches us.

Not far apart is an queen enclose in her gentle rain. 
I gaze admiringly totally engulfed, unlike the ones on my rear view 
this one tickle my fancy making me want to live in the moment forever, 
her face shone as though with the rising sun in an atmosphere 
of gilts and glamour, this thick aura of love that have engulfed us drown every fear.

Her eyes filled with wanders fore-tale of the world here after. 
her laughs massage's my ego in many unpredictable ways
On that day every wise man have an intuition, 
I slouch in her ambush in sweet surrender, 
cooee on her she responded with a yes looking at her 
I die from the infectious shy smiles and blissful radiance 
beaming from her, refreshing more than the mountain dew, i felt like am in a conquered territory.

Something in her eyes make me want to lose myself into her arms, 
I only come to realize she's lonely when I did. 
I  stand heavily burden with love in my heart smiling but 
blinded with an invisible tears, suffocating under the heat of heart break 
from the tears of yesterday fanning again the embers of love.

We walk down the gleeful street beside the crystal water fall, 
where the waves cares the shore lines. 
Been described by birds with broken wings as a wrong match 
involve in the game of fools but not been exposed to western mischief 
we raid on; dancing to the undertone music in our hearts.

Her voice bring me up to speed to act on the script of predestination, 
thought I should run my pen through her but 
well began is half done am still a prisoner of all I saw 
looked up in the confine of love but yet still free.
Form: Verse

The Fule Lord

The follies of fools 
The lord of fools 
The fools that are lords
a leader of the damned 
Insane the minority of minions 
Deplorable and disdained 
Blind in the sight of kings and lords
Jester’s of old orange baboons
In golden flossy glossy wigs
Fleeting hair a top fule lords fake façade
In a flock of tweets and Nitwits
Someone said the one eye 
man is lord of the blind in the land 
of the blind this fool is king
Dressed in nothing but a red tie 
& golden fly away sad toupee
The follies of fools a leader 
of the damned doomed
And unschooled the folly of fools 
the fule lord of one supreme leader to some 
Blind in the sight of kings and lords
Burning Republics building empires, 
finding legions of cults 
a Cult of personality bleeding, pleading
Scheming at the doors of a CLOSED kingdom
tearing apart the fabric of a nation
For the keys to dominion 
Someone once said the one eye man 
is lord of the blind in the land 
of the blind has a fool for a king
Dressed in nothing but Ignorance. 
In golden flossy glossy wigs
Fleeting hair top fule lords FRACTURED façade…

















Dic: fule (dialectal, chiefly Scotland) fool
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Slow Boat To China

I was born in a landlocked getaway town
Where all the colors were black, gray, or brown.
Jobs at the steel mill were ratcheting down.
It was not in my future to stay.

So, I took a long walk off a very short pier,
An unschooled, untraveled recruit buccaneer
On a quest to cross Neptune’s vast salty frontier.
Hopped a slow boat to China one day.

Underway on the Crescent City, it seemed
The ocean was wider than I’d ever dreamed.
A ship load of sinners, our souls unredeemed
Steaming west toward whatever there was.

Keelung told Hong Kong to call Singapore.
Subic Bay badgered Mombasa for more.
Sea legs, as always unsteady ashore,
Even more so with liquor and drugs.

Bilge water sloshed in the depths of the hold.
The mizzen mast learned what the typhoon foretold.
I was sea duty tempered and Shell Back enrolled;
Wasn’t nothing but maritime norm.

I was born in a hard luck blue collar town.
Half the way broken and half the way down.
But time gifts its renaissance scepter and crown
To a jack tar who’s weathered the storm.
Form: Rhyme

For they Love their own praise and glory of man

John 11:47-48 NIV?
[47] Then the chief priests and the Pharisees called a meeting of the Sanhedrin. “What are we accomplishing?” they asked. “Here is this man performing many signs. [48] If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and then the Romans will come and take away both our temple and our nation.”
?John 12:42-43 NIV?
[42] Yet at the same time many even among the leaders believed in him. But because of the Pharisees they would not openly acknowledge their faith for fear they would be put out of the synagogue; [43] for they loved human praise more than praise from God.
?Acts 4:13, 17-20 NIV?
[13] When they saw the courage of Peter and John and realized that they were unschooled, ordinary men, they were astonished and they took note that these men had been with Jesus. 
[17] But to stop this thing from spreading any further among the people, we must warn them to speak no longer to anyone in this name.” [18] Then they called them in again and commanded them not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus. [19] But Peter and John replied, “Which is right in God’s eyes: to listen to you, or to him? You be the judges! [20] As for us, we cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard.”
?Acts 5:38-39, 42 NIV?
[38] Therefore, in the present case I advise you: Leave these men alone! Let them go! For if their purpose or activity is of human origin, it will fail. [39] But if it is from God, you will not be able to stop these men; you will only find yourselves fighting against God.”
[42] Day after day, in the temple courts and from house to house, they never stopped teaching and proclaiming the good news that Jesus is the Messiah.

Love you all, in praying that others might be awakened of their surroundings ,and  seek the promised Holy Spirit to resurrect new life within, purifying One into A Child of the Living God,
Form:

The Examination

Listless images swirl up from tangled seaweed.
Instead of going home to study
a youth stayed on at a topless bar.

This reoccurring nightmare is a parody,
a Dahliesque floor show of every
melting, pants down moment.

Unschooled for future-shock, ill-equipped
for long forgotten questions;
scruffy owls hoot in an empty lecture hall
as a mind reacts with a jittery dread.

A lost post-graduate thesis rides on a city bus,
passengers sit on it as they come and go;
the manuscript is deeply buckled
with butt cheeks.

No time to revise the unprepared.
Dimples of anxiety indent a head trip.
Despondency envelopes.

At any moment,
eyes will open above a pool of sweat,
then blink stupidly
as they have done - often and repeatedly
for the last 45 years.

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