Long Volunteered Poems
Long Volunteered Poems. Below are the most popular long Volunteered by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Volunteered poems by poem length and keyword.
I'm standing by the splashing rocks of the roaring ocean
with a cold face as if I was standing in wintry freezing rain;
it's the middle of sunny May and the chilly blowing gale
turns me into a hand-rubbing dude very rigid and pale.
Tired of being behind a screen where people chat,
I get angry reading a revengeful, lewd comment;
social media has become a dangerous battlefield
for thugs, where opinions are sarcastically shared.
A slowly-walking elderly lady, not wrinkly and crone,
is robbed by a scrawny teen with a stylish cowboy walk;
he runs towards the beach harbored by a wall of stone;
then poses a minute to stuff something in his long sock.
The knocked-down lady yelled at the kid known as Sam;
and being nearby, I quickly ran and volunteered to help,
" Thank you, young man...I can't move my bruised leg."
I assure her it's not broken, " You'll be alright, mam! "
" Please allow me to escort you safely home. "
The frail lady nodded as we started walking and talking;
I felt her shivering hand struggling to grab mine...
grateful for the human kindness she had been seeking.
Written on 5/15/2017
In honor of our new baby blooms, you are cordially invited to our annual tea. This year we are serving a plethora of herbals, for your sipping pleasure: Peppermint pep, Chamomile comfort, Rose repose, are among them.
This year we are serving the local honey with lavender and lemon (optional); it will relax you to promote your
tea-time bliss.
We also have a poet for your entertainment, as one of the Poppies has penned, quite a bit of wit!
Cinnamon and ginger have graciously volunteered; to regale you with some spicy stories.
The Vanilla beans have baked some wondrous sugar cookies;
they’ll surely delight your palate.
We’ll be decorating with morning glory vines and aromatic, tea roses; It’s only appropriate.
Come one, come all and gather with us; for some flowery delights, herbal and tasty cups of tea.
RSVP to Snapdragons by March 1st.
Honoring Sacrifice
By: Tom Wright
4/24/04
For country, they chose to honor a call,
now, the piercing sound of a rifle’s report.
An echoing trumpet, sadly says it all.
let us hero our young as a last resort.
No image portrays our freedom’s cost,
like that of a flag draped casket.
A mental souvenir of war, un-tossed,
on display from memory’s basket.
It serves to remind of a hero’s place,
should we treat it as a mere statistic.
For each had a home, name, and face,
harboring dreams that were realistic.
They abnegated those dreams for a chore,
accepting that vitality might be tried.
Death isn’t made a contrivance of war,
but a mental souvenir from those who died.
A twenty-one-gun salute seems to say it all.
I sit and watch the evening news and am inundated with war news,
body counts and flag draped gurneys. I always try to look beyond mere numbers
and realize that these were real people with real hopes, dreams, and families.
People who had volunteered, for one reason or another, not allowing thoughts to creep in that their return home might be via body bag.
“Honoring Sacrifice” was written in remembrance of those
who have had their lives cut short for a cause?
After Their War
David J Walker
There was only desire and comfort/convenience
Laced with certain frames of entertainment
in between the crap games played with life
Everything OD green was repainted
except the screen with the
Signal filled cable
Nothing was on except a thousand reruns
From the dawn of television
And another thousand Audie Murphey movies
Mother may I borrow the View-master
Father will you be done soon with the Funk & Wagnall
The Earth will end in a thousand-year freeze
After a nuclear war Says my science teacher
who said to look it up
Marks grandfather was a WWI soldier who
Knew Captain Truman
He still Screams at night when
the bombs start falling
again
An Uncle got a fake leg after the Battle of the Bulge
He never said anything and I was afraid to ask
My Draft Number was high but
I volunteered to anyway
Did anyone contemplate life
after their war
If so
What did it look like to you
This is different
Eerie
The winds have changed.
The colors fade into
a lifeless, chalky form,
and all life disappears
in a uniform fashion,
as I stand at its edge,
too scared to move.
Even the sun plays
hide and seek.
And I've volunteered to play seeker.
Who would have thought the sun
was so gifted at playing,
after all these years of
willingly showing his face.
And now I face off
between the darkness
and what's left of me.
There's no rest
for the rest of me.
I lay resting in pieces.
Rest In Peace
One piece left -
it stumbles in the dark.
One piece,
one part to play.
It knows it's still
in the game.
It knows -
To live in darkness
among darkness
requires little of us.
But to seek the light,
to create light
among the darkness
demands effort.
So
much
effort
These winds are changing,
and the darkness encloses me
as I watch the flowers,
disposing of each petal,
fade from my view.
The sun wants to play hide and seek
I can tell this one's going to hurt
as I listen to the drum of my
heart beat grow louder.
I call out
Ready or not, here I come!
Everyone knows about Santa's eight reindeer,
We've all sung that song and know all of their names,
And the ninth one, that Rudolph,
With the bright shiny nose,
But this poem is not about any of those.
There was also a tenth I'd like to tell you about,
And why from the story he is always left out.
He was Fivel, the Jewish reindeer,
And he never got to pull the sleigh.
Each time he volunteered to,
Santa smirked and said, "A Jew? No way!"
That was clearly discrimination,
But the North Pole's not the USA,
And the reindeer didn't have a union,
And still don't to this very day.
Still, Fivel kept on applying,
He even tried tying a menorah to his head.
But that clever trick didn't help one bit
Because he just couldn't keep those candles lit.
Then his rabbi reminded Fivel
Of something he had failed to contemplate:
He might be too orthodoxy
To ever be Rudolph's proxy,
But Santa's nine Christmas reindeer
Shine just one night a year,
Whereas Hanukkah goes on for eight.
Author's note: Dear readers, some of you may be familiar with author Jeff Geller's charming Christmas story about a similar character named "Hershel". But please rest assured that, as far as I can determine, apart from being of the same species, and possibly attending the same synagogue, my "Fivel" is not, knowingly, related to Mr. Geller's creation. Fivel (pr. Feye-vuhl) has various meanings in Yiddish, but the connotation I prefer is "light" or "candle".
West Virginian Mountaineer, hill country free,
Born down in a holler to folks of dirt po means.
Heard wind blow wave ‘er wave o’er regal mountain peaks.
Fed on cornpone, biscuits, country gravy, and beans.
White mist over each peak a crown of majesty.
In rich valley below, unique person dwelt.
Admired sprawling mountaineer family tree.
Anyone not ‘bon up ’thar in the hills was suspect.
Ran like a deer, strong as a bear, eyes like a hawk.
Had speck of earth’s riches: smidgen from modern store.
Used outhouse year 'round, often times in the dark!
Worldly things rated low; Evermore got high score.
Shot rifle straight as an arrow flying through the air,
As ray of sunshine finds its way through leafy trees.
Had the stealth of bobcat leaving his secret lair,
Could seek up on someone; unaware presence there.
Honored no pass signs around moonshiner’s grove.
Words sounded odd to some; "Whar, thar, airish out ‘har.
Folks growed "tabaccer, lit oil lamp and wood stove.
Misjudged as brainless; mind could ace lawyer’s bar.
Volunteered one day while wearing worn out jeans.
Proud to be a soldier, as ancestry of yore.
Eager to serve country; had just turned nineteen.
Sent off to hostile land; part of medical corps.
Ten soldiers died when compound was hit one night.
Each one was honored; a national hero.
Military honors; flags, taps, and over flights.
One from West Virginia; Marine, Megan Marlow.
He stepped forward
-Invisible
Slowly dissipated in rhythm with word
She looked around
Searching for a plausible cause
An overly pronounced Ahh
punctuating his appearance
A wry smile trundled across his lips
-there is power in words
and I am Float
and you are Epitome
Someone has stolen a word
and we need you to find it
The only problem no one knows what it is….
Why float, a look of question frowning on her face
I created it-he replied it’s actually my first one
He carried on
We have three days
By that time you need to choose
Choose.choose what, she asked
The words you need on your quest
Courage has volunteered
We can’t find fear
and Whimsy is chasing a butterfly in a field
"Whom shall I send! Who will go for us?" was His fervent plea.
Isaiah quickly responded, "Here am I, my Lord, send me!"
From the genesis of this great nation, patriots brave and bold,
Have said, "Here am I, send me!" as did that prophet of old!
Ordinary men thought it their solemn duty and obligation,
To defy tyranny and create a free and independent nation.
They left their plows to take up arms and fight for liberty.
As one they voiced in firm determination, "Here am I, send me!"
Men in Union Blue struggled with resolute purpose and resolve,
To ensure that a peaceful and united nation might again evolve.
"Her am I, send me!" they cried as their land was torn asunder,
They bore the strife 'midst slashing steel and the cannons' thunder!
Some were "volunteered" to serve and protect freedoms held dear
In battles beyond our shores, but their resolve was very clear.
"Here am I, send me!" their battle cry, storming alien strands,
To establish brotherhood for the suppressed in foreign lands!
Today, gallant men and women yet heed their nation's call,
Answering, "Here am I, send me!" with no hesitation at all.
For a time the solace of hearth and family they must forego.
So much, so very much to these courageous souls we owe!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Family and friends gathered to pay homage to a hero today,
As a gallant airman was laid to rest 'neath hallowed clay.
He volunteered to defend freedom and his beloved nation.
He proudly wore the uniform, feeling it his solemn obligation.
He was just an ordinary man performing extraordinary deeds,
Serving humankind regardless of their race or creeds.
It can never be said that his sacrifice was made in vain;
Because of such patriots, brotherhood will ever reign.
The honor guard rendered the twenty-one gun salute as one.
The plaintive notes of "Taps" honored him for laurels won.
The Commander presented the flag to his son on bended knee.
He clutched it to his breast - the little man was only three.
The sound of freedom was heard again in this great nation.
Four fighter jets screamed above in precise formation.
To honor an airman who placed national destiny above his own,
To ensure that our liberties would never be overthrown!
One plane soared heavenward toward that vast celestial dome,
Symbolically escorting a Peacemaker's soul to its eternal home.
God embraced him and placed upon his brow a regal crown,
Saying, "Son, you've served Me and My people with great renown!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
This poem was based on a true incident that occured at Luke AFB, AZ
a few years ago. Someone complained about the noise the jet planes
made at this brave man's funeral in the local paper. The Commander
responded to the article explaining the situation. I sent a copy of this
poem to the Commander, Lt Col Scott Pleus, and he sent a very gracious
note to me expressing his thanks and appreciation.