Long Working(a) Poems
Long Working(a) Poems. Below are the most popular long Working(a) by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Working(a) poems by poem length and keyword.
Intro
Turn a popstar into a metal head… I’ma change the game/
Have a popstar rocking to guitars and bass… make ‘em bang/
Verse One
Popstars get tired of hearing that tune/
So they turn to metal heads and now they wanna rock/
With the best, and who the best, we the best/
We the best like a D.J. Khaled track/
And I won’t stop till my casket drop in the ground/
As long as I got a voice, you gonna hear my sound/
And I’ma put it down, and rep for my peers/
With nothing but heavy metal, trap metal in your ears/
I’m a metal influencer, and I highly influence ya/
Whole career and have you wishing you switched sides/
Now you working a hard 9 to 5 just to get by/
Your contract expired, they don’t want to hear you/
At your concert, they don’t wanna get near you/
Now you at my concerts, your career is dead/
That’s how you turn a popstar into a metal head/
Verse Two
Rappers wanna be popstars, it’s part of the game/
Popstars turn into metal heads, it’s part of the chain/
We bang and swing until we blow out our brain/
They copy and watch me. Now they doing the same thing/
It’s all the same game, we chasing the same ring/
But my league is different, we entertain the same/
I hit the stage, they scream my name, I’m the MVP/
And they envy me, because I’m who they wanna see/
I’m who they wanna be, a Pitbull metal head/
But feeling like a bull, because all I see is red/
And all I feel is rage, and you gonna feel my wrath/
One plus one is me and you, now you do the math/
My rhymes are different, my sounds are different/
My style is different and even Popstars feel it/
So, when you speak, hear or read my lyrics, you know the deal/
And when you speak my lyrics, you know just how I feel/
I'll love you till the bluebells forget to bloom;
I'll love you till the clover has lost its perfume.
I'll love you till the poets run out of rhyme,
Until the twelfth of never and that's a long, long time.
Twelfth of Never
Songwriters: Jerry Livingston / Paul Webster
A love song that blooms with perfume and rhyme,
Even when bluebells, clover and poets run out of time.
Words, may we never forbear their cleverness.
Let us birth verses until the twelfth of neverness.
It’s been, and it shall be, a long, long time of runic
and a Poe-, Shakespeare- and Plath- worn tunic.
Ever-creating from Adam to now, and past these days.
Love is at our fingertips, working a well-begotten phrase.
10/28/2022
Dale fell to the ground, shot through the chest,
in shock as Joel paced on up to him,
his last words were “Why? Why did you do it?”
Said Joel,”Because that boy is my kin.”
So quickly it ended, Red Hawk emerged,
his face pale and ashen from the fray,
Joel took the rifle, clasped the boy’s shoulder,
said,”Your ma was wise to keep you away.”
Running Moon came out from behind a tree,
taking in the bloody, brutal scene.
Joel said,”Maybe we should head for the west,
to Alaska, where nobody knows me.”
It was agreed, and they all made the trip
settling down just outside Anchorage,
building a new cabin, with three whole rooms,
just beneath a gentle, wooded ridge.
It didn’t all resolve itself right away,
there were long months spent building trust,
but eventually Running Moon came to know
that for Joel she was always enough.
So Joel lived out his days working a saw-mill,
with big blades pushed by rushing water,
and neither Red Hawk, nor their growing brood,
would have to go through life without a father.
Some Call you COVID-19, Others Call you Corona, or Crown in Spanish.
I Call you Death, For Today you Took My Friend.
He was a Critical Care Physician in the neighborhood hospital, when you came to visit.
He had worked six 14-hour days with two to Recoup for the next Shift.
I Only knew because of the stories he told, over a beer on one of those days off.
He said that one of his patients was a Fireman, who was the first to respond to an ER call from the Senior Care Center, stating that one of their residents needed a ride to the hospital.
He also Spoke of an EMS Driver who had been working a late shift, she had been picking up a few extra hours when she first came down with Symptoms.
The Story that touched my heart Most was told of a Single Mother of three, who had survived her battle with COVID, but the Life-Long effects would remain.
Some Call you Opportunity, for You clearly display that Businesses must have a War-Chest of Reserves to Survive their Encounter with you.
You not only brought the World Economy to its knees, but you made me realize the Value of Being Prepared.
You Allowed Stronger Companies, to become even Stronger, by Swallowing those Simply trying to Survive.
Some Call You Friend, For You Showed Me the Value of Time.
Tomorrow We Will Celebrate the Lives of Those who Met You Face-to-Face, and did the best they could.
But Today My Heart Aches for My Friend, Who You Took.
Sincerely,
COVID Survivor
Author Paul A. Cumberbatch II , (July 4th, 2020)
I am not afraid to say
I'm a man and I cried today
I am almost, wait I am ashamed of a lot of men today
The way sin nature and choice
The negative display they choose
If being a man is to fornicate
Have intercourse being unmarried with any woman they can
Then I am not a man
And I cry today
If being a man is to sexually abuse a child
Then I am not a man today
I am not afraid to say
I'm a man and I cried today
I am almost, wait I am ashamed of a lot of men today
Instead of working a job
I stay in a house or apartment living off of woman, This ain't love
This ain't right
If I have to beat, slam, throw the woman around
This ain't love
But yet a lot of women say it's right
The negative display they choose
If being a man is to fornicate
Have intercourse being unmarried with any woman they can
Then I am not a man
And I cry today
Fathering children all over town
Most men this is how they git down
Will I'm here to say, The Lord will have His way
So many men in the prisons
So many children without their fathers at home
While they too are on the rome
If being a man are these characteristics
Then I guess I'll never be a man
This is why I cried today
Don't git me wrong I'm not perfect
I'm not perfect but I write this verse to say
Some of us men gonna have to pay
You can't keep doing God's daughters any old kind of way
So if beating women is your pleasure
Abusing children gives you power
Hold on don't forget every man, woman, and boy girl must repent;
And for heavens sake it's hard to forgive let alone forget
But if we want to make to glory we must forgive always
I am not afraid to say
I'm a man and I cried today
I am almost, wait I am ashamed of a lot of men today
The way sin nature and choice
The negative display they choose
I'm ashamed to be a man today
So I pray first for me
Then I pray for the brethren
And I stay, I stay up before them
Then I guess I'll never be a man
Pray for us the men of the world
That most if not all stop, turn around and serve the Lord
This is why I cried today
AMEN
09/18/17
WRITTEN BY James Edward Lee Sr.
Unmotivated Able Bodied Men
By:Tom Wright
7/23/2019
Many young men are poor because of poor choices,
They’re Government puppets with muffled voices.
Most lack motivation and therefore see little hope,
While grasping the knot tied at the end of their rope.
But people by nature are just drawn to free stuff,
Willing to go through life, having just enough.
Because no work effort was never displayed,
For anything to be free, someone else has paid.
Some like sleeping late taking things with ease,
Like mice constantly seeking a bite of my cheese.
They canvass my neighborhood with a lame excuse,
Hoping to find someone who’s a mental recluse.
They don’t seek full time work just another handout,
And ring my door bell seeking a weekly bailout.
For most seem allergic to working a five day week,
And appear almost weekly trying a new technique.
They always shake my hand before saying good-by,
And think there’s one day a week, if you sweat you’ll die.
So not knowing which day, why take that chance,
And all they got was to practice, a new song and dance.
well thank you soup once again
you have been my most cherish friend
without comparing me to anyone else
you have allowed me to express myself
when others said i was working a nerve
you have listen to me word for word
i never had any special honors or degrees
but you never used that to judge me
you just listen to what i had to say
and took it in your own special way
and maybe critz. a time or two
but that is what real friends are suppose to do
and because you were there to lend an ear
i'll always hold you in a place so dear
so what if many other thought this was just rubbish
you'll be the first one i mention if i ever get published
I will use some lovely words today.
I am determined to use words like gossamer, gauzy,
delight, nirvana, heavenly, and what the heck?
Who is knocking on my door like that? Putting me in a bad mood.
It sounds like they are pounding the house down.
It is my dog, who cannot get into her doggie door with the
stuffed duck in her mouth.
Okay.
Where was I?
I have a word list of all the most romantic, poetic words
imaginable. Words I rarely use. Words like luna, cosmic,
mystical, Ophelia, roses, demon lover, allure, alight, uplift.
Crumb!
Who is in my driveway?
I hate it when a truck stops here.
The dog goes crazy, breaking my concentration.
Oh, a good friend, who wants to paint today.
Yes, I can easily switch gears.
This poetry thing is not working a bit anyway…..
Why does he treat me like
I have got no heart to feel his shining wrongs?
You keep working, a Clive to your laptop like that old uncle rocking the chair.
Not a peep to say hello
And when you do, you feel dizzy.
I just wanted to feel your body on me
But you put me up against the fence.
Make me think my soul out
While u lay on your sticky stocky bed
You choke me and I get nothing else.
The only ease I get is from the music I hear. It feels like I’m the only jug loving here. So what now? Where do I stand? In the spring? Or dessert..
What really could you possibly be doing to me with your freaky love?
Does love set free or put in that cloudy bondage?
Don't just stare like a cat.
It isn't a plane or a soup
It's my heart here.
It bleeds like the arrows of moana.
I know it's late, yeah it is!
But I can't focus, you didn't even notice.
You go to work pretty earlier
Return scary late.
No sex back to sleep.
You know you're wrong
Going half the sleep, I can't even disturb.
Can't wake you up.
I just gaze at the ceiling smelling my fat.
Hey! How can I get a Little bit of your time?
I’m here, I'll stay a bit more
I know I’m pretty
Don't you fancy those tiny waist no more?
Don't you dare keep quite, don't even turn your back on me.
You run from me too?
You got me wanting.. I'll take you to the deepest ocean, sink you down there and kiss you back to me.
You turned cold like a stone
Look at you! I can't even see those white eyes.
I'll make it through.. With you or without.
Is she the reason?
Tell me
Just say it
I'll understand
I'll take the step walking away for best.
Well it's goodbye or not.
My heart and I, we will survive.
Janet went down to the honky-tonk
for some line-dancing and some beer,
down to a joint called ‘Edna Mae’s,’
she always had a good time here.
Old Edna, tattooed, worked the bar,
three bikers player pool, one guy scarred,
a country band played Hank up front,
soon her first beer Janet had drunk.
She joined in with all the dancers
and did soon find herself besides
a blond-haired cowboy who moved well,
with such deep, haunting, grey eyes.
After working a sweat both took leave,
at the bar he said,”Hi, I’m Steve.”
Up and down Janet’s eyes did roam,
he was the type she could take home.
They both did shots, rot-gut whiskey,
then made their way back to the floor,
there they both kept up the hot moves,
for another full hour more.
In a corner the two made out,
she took his hand and led him down
the front steps towards her small car,
for adult fun, they would go park.
But Steve froze at the sight of it,
then ripped his hand clean from her grasp.
he turned and sprinted for the bar,
she’d never seen a man move so fast.
Confused, she followed him back in,
could not find Steve, started looking,
half-hour passed, he was not found,
she went to the bar, and sat down.
Janet told Edna about it,
who listened to what Janet did say.
Edna smiled, and asked softly:
“Did this man have deep eyes of grey?”
Janet confirmed the truth of this,
Edna said,”Come to my office.”
She took down a picture, carefully,
said,”Took this back in ’eighty-three.”
Janet gasped at the image there,
what she saw then beggared belief,
where, dressed in nineteen eighties clothes,
was the young, grinning face of Steve!
“He was my partner’s son, you know.
He rode the local rodeos.
But then in eighty-three he died,
murdered, in the lot outside.”
CONCLUDES IN PART II