Long Year Poems
Long Year Poems. Below are the most popular long Year by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Year poems by poem length and keyword.
She handed me a shandygaff which I took to right away.
Oh, me, oh, my, I was soon drunker than a tipsy sailor,
And singing better than I had for years. Songs were coming
Out of me the way leaves come off a tree in the fall, only louder.
I was terrific at “Old Dan Tucker,”
Fantastic at “My Country Tis of Thee”,
And my “Over the Rainbow” was a contender
For the Judy Garland prize of the century.
I was amazing! I was amusing! My whit was hilarious,
I was more fabulous than I had ever been in my life,
For two seconds, but then I dropped, and fell asleep on the floor.
There was a hush for a second as people stared.
My husband carried me home.
I dreamed of my glory for hours.
My singing prowess! My keen sense of humor.
I had shown them!
Having no idea that eight people I work with
Had spiked my drink “thinking it would be funny”.
And amusing? Luckily, two sips put me down before
I died of alcohol poisoning.
I was out for eleven hours, because I do not usually drink.
So thanks co-workers, for helping me miss the entire
Stupid Christmas party.
Back next year? What would be the point?
What a birthday it has been, if I was not so sad I would grin.
As I walk by the table I see my angels spreading their
wings,
there are two and they are beautiful twins.
They see the tears in my eyes, it makes them do likewise.
A year with a special day, and it all went terribly astray.
Balloons should be flying, gifts and cards they should be buying.
But no gifts no cake, just a bowl of bran flakes.
Now what can I say, I wish I could just run away.
Date Written:4/21/2021
January is the incunabula of the year
I embrace hugely like my huggable teddy bear
With my new life’s portmanteau inexorably handed over
On that last starry night of a very cold and joyful December
A new portmanteau of life’s flavors and condiments
Portions of joys, pains and many life’s challenges
Mysteriously packed all for me in hope to gird up
To follow whatever roads with valor, love, faith and delight.
I’m eagerly looking forward to what are all in store
Perking up with wonder on a brand new portmanteau as I go aboard
Wanting to share with you whatever great surprises that I may hold
In loving wishes that New Year for you unfolds with moments of gold
Jan. 26, 2015 1.15pm
May I share with you a New Year's poem I wrote last night/early morning. Once again, my warm greetings of belated happy New Year 2015!
The rooster crows early in the Zambian morning.
With subtle sunlight starting to appear on the Horizon, ten year old Dikembe begins
has journey to gather water for the family from the Luapula River.
With water buckets balanced on the ends of a bamboo stick he carries across his
shoulders, Dikembe returns to find his Mother starting a fire to fix a sparse
breakfast for her three children. The morning sun already beats down on the dusty
village now alive with life. The ever present flies are already pestering Dikembe and
the sores on his limbs.
Dikembe sees the white man on the horizon entering the village by foot, carrying his
bag of medicines.
Women and children start to form a line at the small hut he will use as his office on
this day. For hours, the white man examines one patient after another,
administering what little medicine he has and offering healthcare advice that he
knows is not understood and/or will go unheeded.
Dikembe sits in the corner of the hut, watching it all with curiosity.
At the end of the long day, the white man packs up his bag, walks over to Dikembe
and hands him a piece of gum. Dikembe smiles and mumbles, “Thank you” in broken
English.
As he puts the piece of gum into his mouth, Dikembe remembers the stories one
white man once read to him from a book called the bible, and he thinks, “I love,
Christmas. I hope it is this nice again next year.”
It is now too late for you to
Straighten up and
Fly right!
You have failed to pass
The test of time.
It is too late to love your neighbor
There is nothing left to do now
But go back into the nothingness
From whence you come.
Day and night will no longer
Be separated by the sun
And the moon.
The sun will no longer co-operate
With your demand for light.
The children are suffering
My elders are unhappy-
And do not - want to live
Upon this planet again.
All the worms have turned;
Every punched has been pulled;
You have failed to pass
The test of time.
No more shall you remember
the promise of eternity.
The moon is blood red
The rivers are bleeding,
Mother Earth’s blood.
She has been savagely raped
And abused.
I will not restore knowledge that has been
Lost or misused.
You had the law and
you did not use it.
To those of you who have been
so unkind an untoward my creations.
You have failed to pass...
The test of time throughout the ages.
Fire rages
I am speaking from
my God-mind.
I am fed up
Finally.
When the grid
Breaks; And the earthquakes,
"Too late to remedy the plunder."
The senseless murders and destruction.
No way to balance the metabolism
No way to love your brothers
Of different colors.
Back to the void--Back to the nothingness,
that you were before
I imagined you.
I am now rescinding my breath
Revoking the stewardship.
I will in one million years recreate
a new species.
They will decipher your written words;
And they will create laws that ban the ways
Of you new primitive men.
My new species will not
invent ways to ignore me,
I will pattern them after the Amish;
They will be good stewards of
"Mother Earth".
and...Will become at one with the
With the universe and Its Laws.
But as for you, your time is done;
Back you go into the dark hole.
And you will become undone.
No-one on my new planet
Will discover you.
You have failed to pass
The test of time;
There’s no way now to keep time.
Now there are no righteous left, to
Make things
Right.
Blessed are the ones that have
Already transcended
Before times words were rescinded.
And I who created you:
Decided to end it.
Message to the masses
Concerning the madness...
Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2018
It's new years eve or bonfire night.
Veterans hide away in fright
They fear that they may crumble
As the fireworks start to rumble
Even if there tucked up in bed
The flashes and bangs mess up the head
Hot sweats, and uncontrollable shaking
It isn't fun that it's making
Some just say your a party pooper
Join us when were in our stupor
The nightmares start, flashbacks come
Yet again everyone have your fun
These actions cause much distress
Some more than others I confess
The symptoms mentioned before
Cannot hurt them that's for sure
But in their head It's like being back
On the edge under attack
Rounds and rockets whizzing by
That is why they break down and cry
Organised events aren't so bad
As that's a choice that can be had
Its the ones that go off Willy nilly
There the ones that make us silly
Spare a thought at this time of year
Bang less fireworks won't cause fear
So use these types if you can
Think about that veteran
It's not just them this affects
It even frightens house hold pets
I'm not trying to stop your fun
But think about others it needs to be done
In La Crosse we see it's not very pretty; a goliath is towering but Altman is gritty'
The numbers are stacked the way I see, but number One can make your enemies flee
I'd faced the foe five weeks in all, with burning eyes cold sweat did fall; the darkness
Loomed as with ears on fire; I staggered and crawled under covids fire no mask no gloves
For me three cared; If we had known more we might have not so well fared'
Yet this is Dec 2019 the UK was supposed to have no sickness there' yet many signs I
Bore that year; a weight on my back; and delirium dreary wore, depression stalked the walls closed in
My chest near solid, air seemed oh so thin, in my nostrils thick the stench extreme, yet I won through with the
Lord and prayer; a quinine tonic ever there, till the storm within me calmed then I knew
My sight was harmed.' My retina displayed clear dots of light; I thought what type of flu?
And rued
The fight' yet after weeks my sight was improved , I'm healthy now my breath is well'
For 99'6 percent survive that's the fact I know to tell' and that's why I strive; against misinformation
Against the tide' that beats against the free world's will, yet don't despair dilute the swill
James Altman makes a worthy stand, so Rally Rally around the man' no one is right
Before the Lord, yet to serve in adversity we are called'
I type on my keyboard.
But you do not listen.
You type on your keyboard, too.
And yet, I can hear every single "clack, clack" of your keys.
Tonight, as I draw the curtain of darkness
And gently try to summon sleep,
A mosquito comes buzzing, wing, wing,
Sucking away all my heavy fatigue.
I fall into a dream.
Yet, I still hear your voice.
"Clack, clack."
"Wing, wing."
"Ah, damn it!"
"Let me just endure this until you finally retire!"
Feeling a breath, as if someone was invading my bare skin,
I woke up without realizing,
And struck down with all my might.
That was the end of the mosquito.
You should have just sucked a reasonable amount and left.
But as I wake up in the early morning,
I suddenly realize
That my boss and I are only a single year apart in age.
Like a humble Bodhi tree,
In the end, I bow my head to him.
Tomorrow, I will greet him with all my energy!
“Hello! Good morning!”
Ok, there’s no jailbreak.
Make room for my innocent alter ego,
because there’s nothing to rebel against.
There are zero classes in my nascent,
year-long, Harvard master’s degree.
They call it ‘self directed study’
and like rockets have stages,
I’ll have ‘self paced modules.’
Am I suddenly at Oxford University?
They’re quite famous for that (no formal classes).
Or am I suddenly grown up and trusted?
I obviously don’t have it all figured out yet,
so I’ll just trust the process.
When I started that other school
(that shall not be named), my advisor
handed me a computer printout - a list
with something like 40 courses on it.
I thought, “Oh, my God,” but one by one,
year over year, I checked-off those courses
and walla! They handed me a diploma.
It was a process.
I understand, if you’re disappointed about the jailbreak, but there’ll
be coffee breaks, lunch breaks, study breaks, bathroom breaks
and more than a few self-directed dance breaks. So stick around.
“You know,” my therapist said, so very seriously, a few years ago,
“you keep laughing,”
.
.
I've Got the World on a String by Robin McKelle
Stoned Soul Picnic by Ledisi & Billy Childs
2025.2.12.
Chinese Lantern Festival.
Tonight, it is the first full moon of the Lunar Calendar year.
It is also the end of the CNY's celebration.
It is time to do something different.
The villages welcome the lantern festival.
Kick off the night with some spring vibes.
Colourful light lanterns are up in the dark sky,
They clip along the street lamps' wires.
People put up the New Year's scrolls,
In supplication for wealth and health.
It also extends to some family
To find the perfect companion,
For the daughters by the parents.
A pair of red Chinese scrolls,
Will be hung on each side of the main front door,
Only a poem/riddle has been filled on one of the scroll,
Waited for the suitable talented candidate,
To complete the other side.
The servant runs wild,
To report to his master,
Every time there is someone knocks on the door,
And write the perfect rhymth well pairing poem.
As the night concludes,
The best written scroll will be decided.
By the father of the potential bribe.
The writer of the best poem,
Would be chosen as the son-in-law.
The bribe and groom will meet for the first time.
Just like the show "Married at First sight".
When everything goes well.
The wedding trumpet's parade or the wedding's bell.
Will not be far away.
The brides had never interacted with strangers before.
The Chinese scrolls challenge was their chance,
To find, their talented and educated life partner.
This was one of many way of match makers.
This practice seems to change over the years.
Couples can be found on dating sites,
Not as traditionally and nice as it used to be.