Long Word Poems
Long Word Poems. Below are the most popular long Word by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Word poems by poem length and keyword.
ONE HIT OF ME AND YOUR FOREVER CHASING THAT
SOLD YOUR SOUL FOR A FEELING, NOW YOU WANNA BUY IT BACK
HERE'S A LONG STORY SHORT BOUT A DRUG NAMED CRACK
SEE THAT SOUL YOU SOLD WASN'T YOURS TO SELL
GOOD THING FOR YOU GOD ALWAYS PREVAILS
BUT YOU WONT GET OFF THAT EASY, YOU MUST STILL PAY A PRICE.
IT DON'T COST MONEY BUT YOU HAVE TO GIVE YOUR LIFE
ITS DOUBLE WHAT YOU SOLD
AND YOU MUST REAP WHAT YOU SOWED
PAY YOUR DEBT TO SOCIETY AND SETTLE ALL YOUR DRAMA
AIN'T NO DODGING THIS SOME CALL HER KARMA.
NOW HIT YOUR KNEES, TIME TO REPENT
PRAYERS GO UP BLESSINGS GET SENT.
REPLACE THE THOUGHT WITH LOVE, THAT'S MENTAL EQUIVALENT
FINALLY YOUR FREE AND AIN'T NO COMING BACK
REMEMBER GOD IS THE STRONGEST AND AFTER HIM IS CRACK
Right Now/Tony Adamo
the subway rumbles,
a symphony of voices,
spoken words drifting,
like jazz notes swirling,
through twilight streets,
trumpet sharp,
trombone smooth,
the city breathes,
tongues dance to the Latin beat.
The Last Poets
“When the revolution comes,”
Politicians whispered sweet lies,
promising dreams that were never theirs,
while streets echoed with dreams denied,
and voices drowned in blood-stained hope.
Economies built on the backs of the weak,
wealth for the few, while many stayed silent,
coins of gold pooled, but hearts went cold,
hands reached out but never united.
The Last Poets rhymes like Hymns
echoing in alleys,
fingers snap,
feet tap,
words meet the pulse,
the Congo thump lifts hearts,
raw and real,
hip-hop’s roots grow deep—
But what has changed,
in this swirling maze?
Do we still speak the truth,
shout over sirens,
dream beyond the neon flash,
with wide eyes,
still fighting, still asking,
for justice in our sound,
each voice a vote,
every story a song?
WISDOM OF OZ/Words/
THEY CALLED HIM THE WISDOM OF OZ/A BALLER, BANGER/ WITH A WIDE RANGE OF KNOWLEDGE
INTO THE STREET LIFE OF PIMPIN’,LOAN SHARKING, SHAKE DOWN’S,GRAB –N-SNACH/ DON’T LEAVE YOUR DAUGHTER’S ON THE STUP MAN/ THE WIZDOM OF OZ WILL TAKE ‘EM/TURN ‘EM OUT/AND HAVE THEM ON THE BLOCK THE NEXT DAY/ HE WAS A SLICK HUSTLER/ HIS UNCLE SMOKEY TOUGHT HIM HOW TO BE THAT WAY/WHEN THE DARK NITE WOULD FALL UPON ALL THE BOROUGs IN THE BIG CITY/HE WOULD LAUNCH HIM SELF/ He Called himself THE MID-NITE MISSILE OF HUSTLE OF SWITCH –N-BAIT THROUGH OUT THE FIVE BOROUGHS OF NEW YORK AND UP STATE/BUT DIG/ONE DAY WHILE LISTENING TO A STRIP CLUB SOUND TRACK IN HIS HEAD/ HE REALIZED THE ULTIMATE TAKE DOWN ON SOCIETY WAS IN HACKING AND JACKING THE TECHNOLOGY OF THE DAY/ MAN TABLET’S, IPAD’S,IPHONE’S,LAPTOP’S/WITH HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF THEASE DEVICES RIDING THE NEW YORK SUBWAY EACH DAY/ WHY THE ULTIMATE HUSTLE /WITH BIG TIME DEVICE COMPANIES HYPING UP THEIR PRODUCT TO THE GENERAL PUBLIC/ THAT THEY CAN OWN WITH CONFIDENCE AND KNOW THAT THERE PRIVACY WILL BE PROTECTED IN SOME KIND OF WAY/ WAS THE FALSE FRONT THE WISDOM OF OZ NEEDED TO RUN HIS GAME DOWN/EVERY WHERE YOU LOOKED/
FROM MANHATTAN TO THE BRONX TO STANTAN ISLAND AND QUEENS/TO STANDING IN LINE or BUYING A PAIR OF JEANS/ THE MASSES OF PEOPLE WOULD BE WALKIN’-N-TALKIN’ AND NOT AWARE OF WHERE THAY WERE A OR WHO THEY WALK INTO/
In the silent calling only you and I;
Your voice is Speaking to my soul;
The more you whispered, I sigh;
You're outside the noise everso;
Your voice is my breath;
You're my effervescent witness;
Ever blessed;
Anointing me with light;
You are the voice of life;
All within my conscience;
Deep expressions of spiritual connection;
Somber inner guidance;
Evoke a sense of intimacy,
trust, and surrender,
reminding us that the voice of our soul;
Is always whispering guidance and wisdom;
"Your voice is Speaking to my soul...
You're my effervescent witness"
Spiritual connection and intimacy
"In the silent calling only you and I...
Your voice is my breath"
Trust and surrender
"The more you whispered...
You're outside the noise"
Anointing and empowerment
"Anointing me with light..
.You are the voice of life"
Speak Lord Speak in awe,
for all and everything alright;
Listening to the whispers of the soul,
trusting that inner guidance and wisdom;
That's are always available;
The spiritual connection and intimacy;
Are everso possible, and that we can cultivate;
A deeper sense of trust and surrender, Hallelujah;
Seek the voice of life, recognizing that it's you God;
The source of our empowerment and anointing;
Encourage us to move beyond the noise;
And distractions of the world, seeking...
The quiet whispers of our soul your voice to hear
Such of inner the guidance and wisdom;
Cultivates a deeper sense of spiritual connection;
Solace of intimacy, trusting that we are never alone;
Remembering so to listen to the whispers of our soul, Seeking yet, seeking guidance and wisdom;
In the quiet moments Hallelujah;
We seek the voice of life,
recognizing that it is the source
Of you Lord your empowerment and anointing
A quiet voice from our Father
3/20/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2024
Scriptural reinforcement
- Psalm 46:10: "Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!"
- John 10:27-28: "My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand."
- Romans 8:14: "For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God."
West Coast Kool Jazz/ Spoken Word
In the air of the West, a cool breeze blows with a brushed silver sound, air-conditioned rhythm, sleek and precise, a cool jazz crown/West Coast KOOL JAZZ is born, where the vibe slides in quiet silk/where shadows flicker like neon on a sun-worn beach/ Shorty Rogers at the gate of this new thing called WEST COAST KOOL JAZZ/his jazz mates in the wings, a tight-knot of fate/Shelly Manne taps the heartbeat in drums, Red Mitchell bows the bass, Jack Sheldon paints the horn with a silver-traced grace/Frank Rosolino, Pete Condoli—names that hum in the cool jazz groove,/they sculpt the air with breath and blues that move/Soul jazz seeds sown by hands of color and courage/African American musicians paint their jazz chords into a golden collage/Clifford Brown glides, Sonny Clark lights the way/Harold Land keeps the street’s rhythem bumpin high all day/Hamton Hawes deep in the pocket/ Jimmy Bond rings the tone, Man, these cats be takin’ care of business making a living By day, IN THE RECORDING STUDIOS they chart the maps of notes those sight-reading saints in studios with movie scores in their hearts/TV shows and commercials, a vinyl jazz cosmos spun/ they stitched the world of sound until the work was done/ AT NIGHT THE CLUBS WOULD COME ALIVE in and around LA/ SHELLY MANNE’S HOLE. ZARDI’S, THE LIGHT HOUSE IN HERMOSABEACH, THE DOWNDEAT/ IN THE CITY BY THE BAY/THE BLACKHAWK, and the jazz workshop/Dig this blend: cool strutting harmonies in the air/cool jazz meshed with hard bop’s stubborn flare/East Coast grit with West Coast cool in the same breath, MAN, are you kidding me? like a highball cocktail, sun-kissed, at a beachside bar/ The cats kept their business in the cadence of the scene, living the dream/A breeze of brass, a whisper of reed/So listen—let the echoes ride the shoreline of your mind,/where shades of avocado and chrome rivers meet the electric LA grind/ THE SOUND OF THE EAST COAST BECAME WEST COAST COOL BOP/ LESS EDGY AND NOT AS FRANTIC AS A BIRD SOLO/ MAN, COOL WAS THE RULE/ HOW YOU DRESSED, ATE, and walked around town with your lady on your sleave/the West Coast cool sound//where jazz and history MEET/
Primped and pure; eyes set to demure,
Ready with practiced charm,
But with goosebumps on my arm.
(-Insert sound of needle dragging across record here-)
My pulse seems to be racing my temperature.
No, no... not yet!
I feel my body starting to sweat.
How is this going so wrong, so quick?
I feel oblong like a brick,
In a room full of perfect spheres—
Oh, and right on cue, here come the fears.
Am I fat? Am I pretty?
Will he be cute and witty?
Am I good enough?
Will we like the same things, er... stuff?
What are you even doing here?!
I think it's perfectly clear—
You don't belong;
And all this is wrong.
No, wait a minute. Who else is in here?!
That part of me that hates my cheer,
That doesn’t want a happier me,
That was already perfectly happy,
Being down in the dumps?
It's not cold enough for goosebumps!
You just want retreat,
Before any chance to meet
My prince charming.
Well, it's me you're harming.
And the last I checked,
You're a part of me—
Do I need to be more direct?
You're supposed to help,
Not hinder me—
You little whelp!
Now say it with me,
“I want to be happy.”
“...I'm sorry,”
“I want you to be happy too.”
That's better;
I hope you mean it.
-Here comes your date.
-Don't worry, we look great.
Of course, I don’t mean guns
I mean your arms, of course
Lift them up to the Lord and Rejoice!
Praise Him with all your heart
Allow His Holy Spirit to engulf your whole being
With His mighty firearms
Let Him burn away your sins and pierce your soul
Let Him in, Let Him in
Hear ye, hear yeah
Hear His almighty call
And behold His mighty sword
Slice away any cancerous shenanigans
Immerse yourself in His love
Let Him be your guiding Light
Through these dark, seemingly darkest of times
Don’t ever let anyone stomp out your faith
Especially me, especially me
It be never my intent to ever to do so
Quite the opposite in facto
Sure, I have my moments of doubt and pain
He knows my every short coming
Sure, sometimes I even faulter
But rest assure, I read His Word
As my daily bread for sustenance
Only He is truly fulfilling
He may be the only one who cares
So, I bare my soul, to thee
I share with you how I really feel
Here’s the deal . . .
I long for a Democracy of Heaven
We rebel against kings in this country
But that’s really not His Way, is it?
He’s the King of kings! The Lord of lords!
So, I humble myself to His will, and not my own
Though sometimes I know not what I write
But this I do know, and it just feels right
“Jesus for President!” and I’ll be His running mate
He’s the President of presidents!
He certainly has my vote!
I throw down my rug, I throw in the towel
And kneel before His Grace
I pray to the Prince of Peace
Let this day be the day
That I see His face
That He grace this place, this time
With His mighty Bomb of bombs
His mighty Arms of arms
And hug the child within us all
And keep us all from harm
So, tallyho!
I lift my arms up in surrender
He really blows my mind sometimes
‘specially when I put my trust in Him.
The End.
The Hip Jazz Cat/Tony Adamo
Step up, Man, get up, let me hip you to this/ a jazz cat who weaves words and sings/ People, It’s Giacomo Gates/
He’s the master of vocalese a hipster’s delight/ A storyteller with echoes of Buckley and Mark Murphey’s wise vocal flair/
his voice dances on stages as if floating on air/ Eddie Jefferson’s charm and Jon Hendricks’ grace/ when he opens up to sing/this jazz cat is full of swing/
captivating the crowd he swings a groove spell/ entertaining the masses in jazz clubs that know him well/
He’s amusing and musical/ a hipster so rare/Bebop is in his veins, Man, Giacomo Gates is out of the world and the next one too/ “Where did this cat come from?” Savant Records only knows/
with Bird’s solos beneath him and Giacomo’s melodic variation on words/ turning notes into scatting stories/ Gates be cookin’ the most/ so get hip to it and raise your hands high/ the Gospel of jazz will never die/ dig his jazz scene and let his lyrical journey make you high/ In a world full of noise/ Giacomo Gates is the voice you need, the hipster jazz cat who is somethin’ else, you’ll see, you’ll believe!
Poetic and not lyrical, that's the circle of life and it's not spherical
Round and round and round it goes but the stop is one that no one knows
It's up and down and in and out, self confidence tinged with self doubt
It's fallin' in and fallin' out, line up to see what it's all about
Just to find out that it's not empirical
Now when I set out to plot life's course, I bet on ev'ry pretty horse
And, of course, they bucked and bridled
Til I found the seat of knowledge, intolerance and college
Was where I could not find it with both hands
So I hit the road and pondered and I jumped up and I wandered
Til I found the winding road leads not into the promised land
I sat down to enjoy a meal of humble pie and cock-eyed crow
Stuck my dampened finger in the air to find an ill wind's bound to blow
And show what we all come to know, that when it comes your time to go
You still won't understand
Whether linear or peripatetic, circumspect or sympathetic
Lyrical and/or poetic, your line is fine if it's kinetic
Stasis is a work of art, but what moves in somebody's heart
Is what it took to make the part that got you where you are
That doesn't mean to rest assured, cause what ails you is someone's cure
Your vision's clear, the lines are blurred
So strike out boldly undeterred, knowing that it's just a word
That got you where you are
It's not the end that turns the herd, cause what it is often overheard
Is often under wrought
It's overdone and underthought, underwhelming, overbought
It did catch on but now it's caught up in its own undoing
O God of the vineyard, Root of mercy, Keeper of every covenant,
You are the Master who never stops working, the One who digs, prunes, nourishes, and returns again even when Your people wander, weaken, or forget You. Teach me to see Your patience in my own life — the quiet ways You tend my soul, the gentle corrections, the unexpected graftings that bring new strength.
Where I have become wild, heal me. Where I have become barren, renew me. Where I have resisted Your touch, soften my heart so I can bear good fruit again.
Thank You for the mercy that grafts outsiders in, for the grace that welcomes the Gentile, and for the faithfulness that never abandons Israel. Let me never boast in my place on the tree, but stand in humility, knowing I am here by Your kindness alone.
Restore in me the reverence Paul taught — a reverence that remembers the root is holy, the covenant is ancient, and the story is bigger than I am. Let me honor the branches that came before me and rejoice in the branches still to be gathered.
And like the servant in the vineyard, make me willing to labor with You — to lift, to nourish, to heal, to help gather what has been scattered, to strengthen what has grown weak, to love those You have planted in places I do not yet understand.
O God of mercy, graft me deeper into Your love. Let my life bear fruit worthy of Your patience. Let my heart stay rooted in Your promises. And let Your vineyard flourish in me until the day You gather all Your people home. Amen.