Long Volunteer Poems
Long Volunteer Poems. Below are the most popular long Volunteer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Volunteer poems by poem length and keyword.
One of the great things about being an artist is that even if I can’t change the world I still have an unfettered opportunity to express my opinions. To keep from exploding, I made these pieces instead—Alice Deasley
Art As Activism I
It begins at home or should I say at the grocery store,
anywhere food is sold
Changes in ways to shelve groceries
should again be addressed, it’s still an issue
Packaging goes straight into the sea—the true trash can
Alternatives are store chains that use barrels for sweets, nuts,
dried fruit and edible seeds
More deli section, less packaged meats and cheese
Bakery containers, less packaged muffins
Plastic pollution solutions everywhere
Beach cleanups, volunteer to pick up litter
Our actions impact the ocean
even far away from the coast
land and water are connected
Buy plastic free, figure it out!
Less bagged chips, more glass bottled water and jars
Youth with passion will themselves create new ideas,
for they are the inheritors.
Being gregarious by nature, they are not exempted
“No man is an island;” such they take as truth-prompted…
Hence, Partee and Friendee never want to be afflicted
by gatherings’ constrained, though they are affected.
With pandemic-caused community lockdown enforcement
Partee and Friendee never find themselves bereft of enjoyment
since their social media acumen and active involvement
pave way to their faith-access* for connectivity’s social engagement.
Midst rigorous health protocol compliance, they strive to reach out
transformed from being “party animals” to volunteer workers, no doubt
for prayer fellowships, their hearts beseech God toward goodness-route
to bless their worship services, giving praises to the Lord, with divine shout.
Today, Partee, together with Friendee becomes an avid “watch party” host
for livestreaming pursuits to spread the Gospel in every coast
they are led with wisdom and might of the Holy Ghost
while their followers are blessed with Bible verses they post.
*Romans 5:2 By whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God.
December 20, 2020
3rd place, "PARTY FOLK" Premier Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward; judged on 12/31/2020.
Hitler accidentally bombed his nephew's house
In Liverpool, so he joined the U.S. to fight with the Allies
A blue whale's tongue weighs more than an elephant
Now aren't you really glad you tuned in?
There are two hundred million insects for every human
Wouldn't have gone camping if I knowed that!
We weigh slightly less when the moon is directly overhead
Due to the gravitational effect
Too bad the moon doesn't shine all day
100 lightning strikes occur worldwide every second
Stay indoors!!!
Humans grow about 8mm every night while asleep
But revert back to their normal height the next day
Oh so glad, otherwise we'd spend a fortune on new clothes
250 people have fallen off the Leaning Tower of Pisa
Guess they leaned a little bit too much
1 in 28 American school-aged children
Have a parent in either state or federal prison
Holy crap! A really great example to follow
A single healthy human male produces enough sperm
In two weeks to impregnate every fertile woman on the planet
Uh! I volunteer my services... no charge!
Although gold is a heavy dense metal
It is generally considered non-toxic
Gold flakes may even be ingested in foods or drinks
No wonder restaurant meals are so high
Pope Francis once worked as a bouncer in a Buenos Aires bar
“Doing God's work?”
Mozart wrote a canon entitled “Leck mich im Arsch”
Which loosely translated means “Lick my deriere”
Nuff said!!!
Bus on Wednesdays
Calligraphy
Chant
Clean the house
Create music
Dancing
Draw
Exercise
Explore a new end of town
Finish a project
Go for a picnic
Google
Learn
Listen to music
Look for projects to finish
Meditate
Offer to help someone
Paint acrylics
Paint watercolour
Photo sessions
Picnic
Play: board games, cards, dice, dominos
Read
Reorganize
Research
Start a project
Tarot
Unclutter
Volunteer
Walk
Watch a movie
Work for a cause
Write cards or letters
Write poetry
Yoga
Phone friends / family
i.e. so many things I say I want to do !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
*Long long ago there was a very rich father who had a very large family. He built a large house anticipating his family. His children were normal and grew up with the standards that their father set. Occasionally, one or the other would step out of line, but they all respected their very understanding father.
But there was one who often stepped out of line and became more rebellious by not only disregarding his father's standards but by starting to make his own rules. The self-willed son finally grew up and went out on his own, making his own decisions and managing his own life and livelihood with the wealth he had obtained through his father's good graces. Quite often he had to humble himself and request the aid and wisdom of his father. This went well as long as the father would grant him his desires without questions.
When the father made inquiries so as to better assist his son in becoming self-sufficient and independent, the son became angry to the bewilderment and sadness of his father. The father was patient with his son but began to be at a loss pertaining to how he could really help his son. The father was not overbearing nor one desiring to control his adult son. He simply loved him dearly and wanted to see him become successful and happy as he pursued his own life's purpose.
However, matters at times grew from bad to worse, especially when the son would shout out what seemed to be his favorite demand of his father, "I want you to stay out of my business!". Why, the father could not understand such a demand, because he never was a volunteer, but rather was always recruited or drafted by his son into his vast array of adversities and conflicts whether they were financial, marital, or parental. It's sad when a son wants his father to be "in or out" of his life on the son's terms alone.
03252018FBPS *America, my great country, reminds me of The Prodigal Son story in the Bible. This is a fictitious description of America's rebellion against God.
He served as a deacon in his church and was as pious as they come.
(But on the side, he sold whiskey from a thirty-gallon drum!)
He taught the junior high Sunday school class and was a Bible scholar.
(But on the side, he 'stilled' moonshine way back up in the holler!)
He was faithful in tithing ten percent of his ill-gotten gain.
(For his John Barleycorn he used only the best obtainable grain!)
He occupied the same pew every Sunday listening with attentive ear.
(It was rumored about that he also brewed some very potent beer!)
He proffered an "amen" at appropriate times and wore a suit and tie.
(He was renowned throughout the county for his very delectable rye!)
His tenor voice blended well when singing, "I Love Thy Kingdom, Lord."
(On back roads he did a bit of bootlegging in his hopped-up V-8 Ford!)
He was the first to offer succor to widows, orphans and others left bereft.
(He'd run his still for years - at evading "revenooers" he was very deft!)
When folks were needed to serve on committees he was first to volunteer.
(When asked his occupation he replied, "I'm a 'Spirit'ual Engineer!")
At Yuletide he was generous with the parson giving him a beef, cash and pork.
(At the annual church picnic he surreptitiously passed a bottle to uncork!)
There couldn't be found a finer saint in all of Boondock County, Kentucky.
(He'll continue to "minister" to parched throats thereabouts - if he's lucky!)
Entry for Tania Kitchin's "Primiere Trophy Contest" Contest
This poem is worthy of a Primiere Trophy since it won First Place in the Poetry Soup International Poetry Contest in April 2011. (Won $50 and an Outstanding Poetic Achievement Certificate).
Two grizzled master sergeants repaired to the NCO Club to cry in their beer.
Their jawing invariably turned to discussing the 'old army' of yesteryear.
They grew up in the 'brown shoe' army and of it they liked to reminisce.
'Twas 'happy hour', beer was cheap and their gripes went a lot like this:
"By gawd! Used to be I could take a kid behind the barracks and kick his ass!
Now, ever' time ya turn around they're buggin' ya fer a three-day pass!"
"Yep, they think they can git away with anything jesh 'cause they're a volunteer!
Ya won't believe what I shaw today! An earring danglin' from a soldier's ear!"
"We ate C-rations in our day without all them fanchy frills they have today.
Today, if a kid don't git schteak and lobster on hish plate there's 'ell to pay!"
"It wassh called a 'mesh hall' in the old army and we ate off'n schteel trays.
Now, it's a 'dinin'' facility' and, yesh, we schlept on cots in open bays!"
"Yesh. Things was so schimple when all we dealt with was mornin' reports.
I'm scared of them computin' things that is invadin' all the army forts!"
"In the old days I'd tell a kid what to do and he wouldn't give me no shass!
In the new army if I chew out mommy's boy he goes schlobberin' to the brass!"
"Now, they make us wear them silly lookin' berets jesh like them blimey Brits!"
"Yesh. I don't know about you but I schtink it's time I called it quits!"
"Yesh. I agree. I schtink it's time to retire and end this miserable career!"
"But jush a minute, old pal. Before happy hour ends lesh have 'nother beer!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Let silence be answerable to sound.
Unplug yourself
move with caution through crowds
bow head as if in prayer
yet deny God at all costs.
Let the brave resist...
survive.
Support our leaders
whoever or whatever is in charge.
have no reservations or doubts,
its all for your own good,
for your own peace of mind.
Fake brain damage.
Now that truth is a lie,
agree to agree.
if you are young enough
to be conscripted
volunteer to kill at will.
Avoid clubs and interest groups,
stay under the radar.
Surrender your gun
say you found it in a ditch.
Never complain.
Always smile and nod.
Acclaim proudly
that poverty is patriotism.
Criminals are the real victims,
apologies to all for being you.
When they say we must try harder
to "flatten the curve"
never ask "What curve?"
Believe the official news
toe the line.
Never ask "What line"?
Turn a blind eye
to EVERYTHING.
A few nights ago, a young man dined at my table who has already served our country for several years in the US Army. He is presently considering re-enlisting, feeling that is where he belongs. Daniel and thousands like him take no pleasure in war, but rather, in my view are a special breed of human beings. They are among those of whom Christ spoke in his sermon on the mount, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God". Matthew 5: 9. Without patriots and warriors like them, I can only imagine chaos and mayhem the world over.
As of July 2018, for 45 years the USA will have been utilizing an all-volunteer military. Prior to 1973, some youngsters of my generation decided to run off to Canada rather than be drafted. They were known as draft-dodgers. May we leave it to history to determine whether or not their reasoning was justified at the time. Presently my heart is focused on those who have served, many of whom were tragically wounded, and others who as Mr. Lincoln would say, 'gave the last full measure of devotion'.
Therefore, may we give the utmost respect to those who submit to orders without question to go anywhere, anytime, and for any reason offered by their country. What willingness to volunteer, and if need be, offer up the ultimate sacrifice for one's country. What courage; what commitment; what dedication; what loyalty. Words sometimes pale in attempts to describe their service. These ladies and gentlemen are indeed lovers of people, makers of peace, and preservers of freedom.
Oh Daniel, child of God and son of my dear friends, I was honored to have you dine with my family a few nights ago. I marvel and am deeply moved by your desire to serve this great country. This Memorial Day, I pause to honor the wounded warriors and the fallen heroes. With gratitude, I reverently celebrate and salute you and other gallant soldiers of America.
"Do you have something to wear for a funeral?"
It was her way of telling me that it would be soon, taking care of practicalities
In truth, I already knew
I had stuffed that knowing into a dusty corner at the back of my mind, already full of the socks that lost their sole-mates and forgotten song lyrics
Because my self-preservation is selfish.
She is dying alone, surrounded by people
For months, distant relations have been drifting into our house, staying a few hours or days, paying their respects
They know it will be soon, too.
When I was four, I stayed the night at their house for the first time
She washed my back in the bathtub and cooked the fish grandpa caught
It got sent home in a ziplock with me because I liked fishing and hated fish.
She used to smile and laugh and say things like horticanorkus and bahoony
and tell me that my dad would have to lock me in the closet to keep the boys away when I grew up
Now she doesn't say much of anything.
I've long felt guilty for not spending more time with her
but what little girl wants to watch death march slowly across the faces of those she loves?
And now it seems that she has already died and her body has yet to realize she is gone
If she could, I think she'd ask about my art, my migraines, the boys at college
but she is silent, and I do not know how to fill that space.
She was a volunteer EMT, and now I will be, but we never talked about it
And now we never will.
The disease stole so much of life from her
But it stole her from everyone else.