Long Virginia Poems

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


Premium Member TAKE US HOME

In 1971, John Denver wrote Take Me Home Country Roads
and though in 1997 he passed away…
I imagine he’d be smiling knowing his song is still being sung today.

Country Roads take me home 
to the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain mama
Take me home, country roads

Country Roads came on the radio in the bookstore the other night
and I found there is still magic in John’s song…
when an older couple in the store began to sing along.

Then a younger couple, then a family with children began to sing along
for a moment it’s as if time had slowed…
and before I knew it everyone in the store, including me,
was singing take me home, country roads..

It was a spontaneous unplanned flash mob…
people of all colors, sizes and shapes…singing that chorus…that verse
and when the song was over we all smiled, nodded to each other
then happily dispersed.

There is a lot of discord in our country at this moment
and it was wonderful to hear and see…
together in the bookstore…this moment of harmony.

When cruelty and brutality become the norm…
When evil is spewing out lies and trying to re-write history
We need more moments when people come together to celebrate humanity.

This was a reminder as this evil works to separate and divide us
wherever we may roam…
together we are strong…we have each other 
Together…we can take each other home.

Country Roads take me home 
to the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain mama
Take me home, country roads.
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Virginia

Virginia is a bread-and-butter woman.
She reckons by the Farmers’ Almanac.
She welcomes you with southern inhibitions,
Then gossips to her friends behind your back.

Virginia goes to church each Sunday morning,
And sings about the gospel’s golden light.
Her business with the pastor needs no mention,
Except that she’s the minister’s delight.

Virginia’s is a complicated history.
Her family tree has dark and tangled roots.
Her forebears helped defend the Old Dominion
From Yankees and discrimination suits.

Virginia has prescriptions for her symptoms.
The treatment is expensive to maintain.
Her daddy owns a pharmacy in Leesburg,
So Ginny has no reason to complain.

Virginia never had a favorite lover. 
She handled every paramour the same.
She’d coyly tease their egos’ false assumptions,
And trample on their feelings like a dame.
Sic semper tyrannis.
Form: Lyric

Three Cheers To Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis

Three Cheers To Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis

Momma mia man date
comb the second Sunday 
during month of May
can be traced back 
to ancient Greeks and Romans
devotional festivals held
to honor mother goddesses Rhea and Cybele
setting precedent for Mother's Day
where early Christians fancied festival
known as “Mothering Sunday,”
the other three hundred 
and sixty five or six, 
when leap year occurs,
especially Jewish mothers smother
also manifest courtesy 
eldest sister or brother.

Fast forward to the early
twentieth century 1908 when
Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis 
(a social activist then,
and community organizer
during American Civil War) era to quieten
grief fraught era also cited
as informally memorializing her mother,
who begot said noble men
touring daughter

paying homage to woebegone
lachrymose role with accolades
to endure tragedy and loss put upon
childbearing women,
this event held (rain or sun)
at St Andrew's Methodist Church
in Grafton, West Virginia, which did quicken
in subsequent decades to formal fete,
where poets (like me) did open
the special occasion with ranked midshipmen

commercialization cropped as ken
be expected by the early 1920's embolden
greeting card companies 
such as Hallmark generated a market 
(money making of course) even
though Jarvis believed 
companies sought profit
NOT prophet, thus misinterpreting
and exploiting idea 
of Mother's Day and met

aforementioned founder, who tried to jet
tis sin the vulgar appetite 
of the ole mighty dollar,
but her lofty ambition did get
thwarted by mass marketing
the quaint idea,
plus she feared going in debt
and though the industry
(initially proposed entailed low key
acknowledgement, the originator

(Ann Marie Jarvis) still esteemed,
fêted, lionized, revered re:
formed unsanitary 
squalid living conditions with zee
less ness and aplomb
set a course where 
greater longevity doth hum
bull all because, she sought to regale mum
(mine) deceased after rigor mortis
immediately thereafter her sole son
found himself saddened severely glum,
and uncomfortably numb.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member MY POEM THE WRATH AWARD WINNER DECEMBER 23RD 2003

IT WAS DECEMBER 23RD 2003 LIVING IN FORT MYERS FLORIDA MY POEM WAS AWARDED PRESTIGIOUS EDITORS CHOICE AWARD BECAUSE IT DISPLAYS A UNIQUE PERSPECTIVE AND ORIGINAL CREATIVITY WHATS AMAZING IS THIS WAS 3 MONTHS AFTER MY TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY THIS POEM CONTINUED TO RECIEVE THIS AWARD AFTER RELOCATING NORTH DUE TO FOUR HURRICANES CHARLIE LISA GENE HUGO I CONTINUE WRITING OF COURSE AS PUBLISH TODAY OFFERED TO PAY ME TO PUBLISH MY ANTHOLOGY THIS POEM THE WRATH CONTINUED TO CAPTURE READERS ALSO IN 2006 IT'S TRULY AMAZING FIGHT FLIGHT MODE FIGHTING FOR MY BRAIN AND JUST LIKE HARRIET TUBMAN CONTINUED TO LEAD INJURED ILL PERSONS OUT OF SLAVERY I THINK OF VIRGINIA WOLFE WRITING DURING HER NERVOUS BREAKDOWNS BOUTS OF DEPRESSION THE BEAUTIFUL MINDS OF MYSTERY DURING SEVERE ILLNESS WE I WAS IN MY COMA I COULD OOEN MY EYES BUT POEMS CAME ACROSS MY MIND ONCE I AWAKENED I WAS ABLE TO PUT PEN TO PAGE DESCRIBING WHAT OCCURED WHILE I WAS FAST ASLEEP UNRESPONSIVE GOD BLESS NASA RADIOLOGY IN NAPLES FLORIDA AND GOD BLESS THE POET THAT LIVES AND CONTINUES TO WRITE AMONG US

THE WRATH WAS WRITTEN BY
YOLANDA NICHOLSEN 2003 I RECIEVED 
AWARDS DECEMBER 23RD 2003 RIGHT 
BEFORE CHRISTMAS DOWN THE STREET 
FROM THOMAS EDISON HOME WHERE 
ROCKEFELLER FORD AND EDISON STATUE 
SITS FORT MYERS FLORIDA
Form: Naat

Premium Member The Darkest - Blackest Tuesday (Part Lll)

Now Children the pink and purple pails are for the girls, blue and green for the boys
We are going berry picking down by the stone wall Mr. Bethel said we could pick his berries 
too
The stone wall off limits to the Webb household, Bobby, Joe and Jim had the scars to prove it
Oh, “MOM“, (coil in fear, no crop) Thank-you What did Millie say; Are we going to make pies?
Ma’am didn’t know sign language, of course we will tell her she can wear the number 2 apron
Dotty, George, and I started running to the end of our property Slow down They’re 
excited “Mom”
I know Alice listen you older kids will be paired up with the younger ones: Alice, George and 
Harry
Virginia, William and Dorothy; Joe Jim and Robert; Rebecca you’re the best signer, You and 
Mildred
Alice, yes Harry why did Ma’am say we could call her “MOM” my voice shakes when I say 
Mom
 I think all of us feel that way; but make hay while the sun shines, What?  Just let her be 
MOM today
Pick them ,don’t eat them Wow, Al ,that’s what Becky just said to Millie look Millie said they’re 
so sweet
You can read that from over here Yep Millie and Becky have been teaching me. You know 
what this means
Easy: I Love you too Where is George? Over there George your not suppose to be on that 
side of the wall
It’s sprinkling , my pails almost full come on George let’s go back to “Mom” Alice go get the 
other children
This is the first time since I’ve been here that we were all together, laughing and talking 
while Mom smiled
As we got to the steps of the porch the sky opened sheets of rain a bolt of lighting , a sonic 
boom of thunder
Form: Narrative


Virginia Woolf And Suicide

In Virginia's mind, a tempest swirled,
A brilliant mind, yet shadows curled.
Words flowed like a river deep and wide,
Yet within her soul a tumultuous tide.

She danced with joy, a fleeting waltz,
Yet battled demons, unseen assaults.
To the lighthouse of her soul, she'd strive,
But darkness whispered, she couldn't survive.

A room of her own, a refuge sought,
Yet the waves of despair relentlessly fought.
In depths profound, she sought reprieve,
A final rest, a chance to leave.

In the pages she wrote, her essence lives,
A testament to the pain she gives.
A fragile soul, now at peace,
Virginia's tale, a tragic masterpiece.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member A Brief History of the Land of Opportunity

A long time ago 'twas, ships set sail
  For in England and on the Continent
Certain folks were doomed sure to fail

They were Puritans, the 'wrong religion'
  Or hewers of wood, down on their role
Like drawers of water, low on the totem pole

They came to Massachusetts and sunny Virginia
  Uncharted lands, filled with large dreams
Where they'd find a way for their plans and their schemes

Sadly, some died, in the harsh clutches of winter
  Other pulled through, a-hunting and fishing
Planting maize and potatoes, Thanksgiving-wishing

They'd escaped the caste system that had kept them down
  In "New England" they built farms, orchards, and towns

                          **********

Now the years have whizzed by, over 400 in all
  We descendants no longer stand so proud or so tall
The caste system our ancestors fled has been replaced
  By an equally cruel one, based on money and race
Form: Couplet

Once, In America

Once, in America

I saw a wonderful picture of a female soldier coming home 
after a tour of duty defending America against the enemy
In Syria or some other contested country.
She embraces her daughter, a perfect moment; we did not 
ask any awkward questions about why invading a country is 
defending America.
The USA is a country divided; we get news from Washington
and Wall Street and what the president says
but of real America, we know, not very much and what
we think we know, is usually mythical in western movies.
The Americans are generally very polite and welcoming 
people, which makes sense since so many are armed
I met many people in Texas, Alabama, Virginia California
and New York; a city I didn’t care for as it was full 
of undesirable folks, given the feel of fake Levantine.
For a seaman, going ashore in America was a pleasure so much
to see and buy, as always, the people were courteous.
Some of them had the weird idea of Europe as a half
a communist system, treating people with a loss of freedom.
But let’s put this aside, people are wrongly informed due to
a willfully ignorant press, so we spoke of John Wayne
and how beautiful America is, where anyone can become
President, working hard enough.
Yes, I miss this fine country that, on her way to greatness
lost its way, but I still think America is beautiful
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member To a Spring Virginia Morning

To A Spring Virginia Morning.

As the quiet dew
Wet blades of grass grew,
Hungry rays of sunlight
Slowly consumed 
The last morsels of darkness;
Faint echoes of the symphony 
Of frogs and crickets waned in the 
Distance.  The staccato overture
Of chirping, red breasted cardinals
Announced the arrival 
Of the synchronized dawn;
Leaves of ancient trees attested 
Nature’s physical rainbow 
Quantum leaping her celestial spectrum
To supreme expressions:  Exploding colors
Canvassing the terrestrial plane;
True to symbiotic rhythms, all creation coalesced:
Indeed, the spring Virginia morning is for lovers.

Premium Member A Day In the Week of Life

From sunup to sundown
it was indeed a weird day;
it seemed as if the sun rose
wearing dimming shades
and as if the wind had been
blown off course or locked out.

The bold-green leaf trees, hedges,
shrubs, and lawn grasses just stood
there motionless as if they were
aping their canvassed or woven cloth/
plastic counterparts that year-round
highlighted the locations of graves.

In the dimness of it all, even shadows
had a time with their shading reflections;
and the bi-polar tempt had fun teasing
t-shirts and sweatshirts with a strange
“lukeness” that was neither hot nor cold
nor warm or cool.  A special Virginia trait!

The scary-like graveyard silence
of this weird lingering day was
pinged periodically by echoes of
hidden birds in trees and sometimes
the echoes of ducks in a distant pond;
it seemed as if no other sound had
the echoing energy to pierce the silence.

As this taunting tired day slowly faded
into the coming darkness of night, suddenly
I realized that nothing had happened to me
Throughout this weird incomprehensive
lingering day, and that my heart was beating
with a shooing rhythm of allegorical awareness.
This day of the week too had been one
that the Lord had made with his undying love
and had blessed me to be perpendicular in it;
thus, it became apparent to me that I need
to rejoice and be glad to be a part of another
day of God’s imaging shared beauties of life.

In gratitude, I now share this day with you
that like me, you too may understand that
although it may seem at times that God does
not give us what it is we want, he has never
failed to give us the things we’ve had needs for.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace