Long Well to do Poems

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


Called Her and Told Her Ian Was Coming

the combination of bought a realistic
view to what was going on.
one slip of the tougne one slip of the tonungue
would bring two opposing side together
one said in union it would recreate how
the structure of collabaration would
be defined as.
Lowbouis stand in el quesabras
while well to do fellas
sleep in mansions on hills
watch out for the rain El Quesabra
please stand by
there is a hurricane ah coming.
even the flute player realised how
horribale such conditions were
just even amagining being
spared or the oblivane
which await you.
Cry while onions ripened
season your meat
not to be gamey.
when the weather tames me.
who's to care!
Form: Ballade


Premium Member Another One

Another one going up
Another one on its way

Through the perfect blue sky
On this perfect summer's day

The wealthy and well to do 
Got passage their own way

Now the brightest, educated, professional young are being flown away

What it must be like to look down; to see through their gaze

Pity given to us as we will and are made to stay.

Can't afford the new life bill; government insurance is our chain

The planet will die in the next ten years or so they say. The new life costs so much and we can't pay!

A barrier must be set and that barrier is our age? 


Another one going up
Another one on its way

Premium Member Dummying Up

Dummying Up
              by Odin Roark

Once mannequins rocked.
Utilitarian heroes propped up
Behind steering wheels,
Windows,
Doors,
Even beside display animals.
Such were the iron-hearted
Of atomic testing ground history.

Today, Saks 5th Ave windows
With their sophisticated still-life-reality,
Serve the well-to-do shoppers,
The not so well-to-do looky-loos,
And of course, the anything-will-do bag ladies.

In Washington there resides flesh and blood versions,
Animatronic wonders,
Their brain circuitry void of action voltage,
Their suits, ties, tans
Makeup, coifs and dresses
Never askew.

Yet…

These elected reps continue more immobile
Than their lauded ancestry,
Those once sacrificial creations of purpose,
Now but a desert’s dwindling radio active dust.

Yes…

Dummying up has come a long way
To its glorification as our US Congress,
Where nonsense requires one dummy-up opener
So “I’ll see that and raise your wealthy-class
Pandering with five more tax cuts.”
At which point, they break for another fund raising junket.

Unfortunately…

The game will pick up where it left off on their return,
A mannequin mentality becoming more and more inflexible.
© Odin Roark  Create an image from this poem.

My Secret Life

If I had a secret life,
 it wouldn't  be secret very long
 for I'm a talker, a reveler of words
 filled with stories that long to be heard;

in the moving shadows of my days
 the heroes and the villains both are slayed
 and I am the bearer of bad and good news
 dependent on your beliefs and views;

often, I may stand alone
 outspoken speaker bent and prone
 recalling the memories of all we've unlearned 
 and everything history continues to spurn.

I am a simplistic sage
 spewing out the lessons of an age
 where everything from the past
 has returned only to be recast;

Hear my story as my life was played
 all the world is an imaginary stage
 and I an actor with nothing left to say
 just another pretender in the word play.


Did you know?
My Secret Life' is perhaps the most infamous of all underground Victorian erotica. It is the sexual memoir of a well-to-do gentleman who began at an early age to keep a diary of his erotic behavior. He continues this record for over 40 years, creating in the process a unique social & psychological document. 

For Caren Krutsinger's contest, "If I had a Secret Life"
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Happy Birthday, Robbo

There's a special man I call my "friend",
          With a heart that's gracious without end.
               He employs it fully to love or grieve,
     Yet never shames it upon his sleeve.

When side-by-side it's plain to see,
          That we're as different as men can be.
               We're yin to yang, to be exact,
     And I'm as white as he is black.

My hair is straight, his head is nappy,
          I'm oft subdued, he's always happy.
               He's well-to-do, I'm hand-to-mouth,
     And tho' I'm a Yankee, he's from deep South.

I'm quite capricious, he's even-coursed,
          He's married years, I'm twice divorced.
               He's traveled as far as a soul can roam,
     While I've stayed mostly close to home.

I'm a simple gent, he's a true "class-act",
          Yet we roll as one, and that's a fact.
               Now, with all this contrast you might wonder,
     Why our pact's not easily torn asunder.

But see, what's important to him and me,
          Goes far beyond what others see ...
               The things that count, when said-and-done,
     Are the ways we think and believe as one.

What matters the most, right from the start,
          Is how we connect with a kindred heart.
               For we have a bond that can't be seen,
     That's timeless, precious, and amaranthine.

And it's true that we're born of different mothers,
          But this journey through life we make as brothers.
               True, I have no vision what's to be our fate,
     But I'm sure we're meant for something great.

For we share an exciting and wondrous dream,
          That requires a strong and devoted team.
               And throughout our journey, day-to-day,
     The good fortune will be mine to say,

That in all the ways that I've been blessed,
          When it came to friends, I had the best.
               Happy Birthday, Buddy, don't mind the sum,
     For I'm wishing you many more ... to come!






~ 7th Place ~  in the "Occasional Poetry" Poetry Contest, Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer, Judge & Sponsor.

( For my Buddy, Partner, and Wingman - Robbo T )
Form: Verse


Premium Member My Beautiful Girl

she came to me starving and with matted fur ... an unwanted kitty
not from wandering the street but from a well to do family
who got her on a whim and  then forgot about her
she spent her days searching their huge house looking for food
kitty was in a box in my home, scared, weak and skinny - meowing loudly
I lifted the lid, hisssssss ! This is how it went for a few hours
but, food tempted her to leave the safety of that old tattered box
she ate and ate and I promised her she would never be hungry again
the next day I took her to the vet an he was horrified at her condition
but we started working on getting her better with needles and nutrition
I got her a soft bed, and lots of balls to chase, dangly toys, and squeaky mice
we cuddled on the sofa, hisses became purrs and kneading paws
I had given her a bath and some fur had to be cut- now I brush her daily
in a few weeks she was looking very different becoming quite fluffy
I love her grey tabby fur and bright golden eyes
will never understand how anyone could treat her so poorly
how anyone would not give her food, water and love
but lucky me got this adorable girl to be my very best friend 
oh, the years have passed but our love grows and grows each day
God sent me an angel without wings in a box that fateful day
Form: Narrative

Elizabeth

I met Elizabeth
during my flirtation with English Literature in 1963. 
Another lesbian, 
pretty blonde with 
soft hands and beautiful legs. 
I used to pick up Elizabeth 
at the counselling center 
where she was trying to be cured. 
When the university found her out
they hinged expulsion on her success. 

I fell passionately 
in love with Elizabeth 
with all my post adolescent yearning, 
the feel and the look of her. 
She allowed me her company 
and the freedom to dream. 

Her father owned an 
automobile dealership in Baltimore. 
Well-to-do. I could never meet their expectations. 
Part of a disguise for her parents,
she knew I wasn't very good at it.

I followed Elizabeth 
doggedly and drove her 
where she wanted to go. 
When she looked for a job 
after she left college, 
I drove her from office to office.

An editorial job in a small business magazine, 
I was glad when she came out beaming. 
Elizabeth had been interviewed by love, 
She and the matronly magazine owner
immediately set up housekeeping together. 

I could have been a friend to both but I melted.
Elizabeth never wrote me letters.

Premium Member Longevity -SK

 

I had one grandma who lived to 100 years old,
      and recall her as very wrinkled and fragile;
but she loved little children and chocolates,
          we always brought some when we visited.

My other grandma lived to 93 years old,
       she had always been the family storyteller;
and inspired me to be a writer of poetry,
             she told me, write for the world to read.

My parents worked hard to provide for us,
      they sacrificed but seemed so happy with life;
we were far from well to do but had everything,
            sadly, they were both destined to die young.

As for myself, I really should not be still breathing,
     as I had a huge accident years ago but lived;
I have had a heart attack, a stroke, kidney failure,
            I am diabetic, and almost went blind.

I live in moments - as the next one is not promised,
        I eat healthy but things I like, I exercise each day;
 walk three times a week for three hours,
             and go to the gym three times a week.

I have made my peace with this life and I am ready,
      have said goodbye to so many beloved;
have cried enough to fill the ocean blue,
      so now, I consider each day given, a gift . .
Form: Verse

A Different Kind of Success

everyone wants to be successful, powerful and rich
people want to be affluent, well to do and find their niche
we all want to achieve our purpose and rise into our destiny
but we must understand there's a roadmap 
for this particular journey

this ideology has been drilled into the minds of society
but understand that success has many different forms in actuality
success is more than just receiving awards, certificates and trophies
true success may simply be staying the course
that God has set for thee

now God says do not fret 
nor worry about what others get
yes evildoers may be in positions of power and control
just remember we serve an omnipotent God
Who watches our souls

be anxious over nothing as you will come to see
that evildoers will receive their coming atrocities
trust in the Lord God as He will provide
He is your shield and will always be on side
refrain from anger and turn away from wrath
wait on the Lord God allow Him to guide your path

simply place your faith in the sovereignty of the Lord
as a different kind of success to you He will afford
trust in His might
know for you He will fight

delight in the Lord be captivated by His mercy and grace
take please in His efforts to always for you be in place
let your worship of Him break strongholds
let your praise of Him set you free
which may also have the potential to grant
others His infinite mercy

a different kind of success 
is what God has on His mind
it might not be the things you want
but what for you He has consigned

a different kind of success you need to perceive
allow God to share with you so that you may receive
His glory, His power and His indefatigable love
a different kind of success you could never have dreamt of

so trust in Him, commit to Him 
delight in Him as well
a different kind of success
spiritually unparalleled

The Mystery

The mystery of man
This is the third day after new year and the day
equally dark and miserable as they were before 
the new has number changed.
On the Eve of festivity, drunk people thronged
narrow streets hoarse voices and screams
upsetting dogs and cats.
oddly, we celebrate the new year with
warlike gestures like fireworks.
Most of my friends are dead, yes, we too danced
the golden calf, not knowing what life was about
I still don’t know.
On the third sober day, the same old  bombs
killing people, as arms dealers drink champagne.
Our democracy is for the well to do 
for us subjugation and waiting for Godot.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Sonnet

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