Long Accomplishment Poems
Long Accomplishment Poems. Below are the most popular long Accomplishment by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Accomplishment poems by poem length and keyword.
The people surrounding me keep asking “why are you going back and forth uneasily on the empty stage shedding crocodile tears, and telling the stories of negative effects on others, though you are not of a man of faculty who is even able to produce a theory comparable to 'Blind Will of Universe', one of worst hypothesizes a man can think of.
It’s because though,
when a worldly-minded snob shouts from a podium
“you should have a positive attitude,” while displaying
his resume proudly with the title that is little-to-do with his personality,
his limited academic background that barely conceals the lack of intelligence, and insignificant accomplishment with somewhat concocted experience hiding his real being and thought, he receives respect from the audience who fascinated by every movement the snob makes in the form of applaud with standing ovation, I was always treated badly from audience, fed only by unwelcome astringent fruits of rejection and drink bitter tasting water sprang from unwanted rotten roots to quench my desire…
And that’s why the course of my reasoning became negative,
and, as a natural consequence, no matter how often you may say
to the audience “you ought to be a person of positive attitude,”
since there are more negative aspects surrounding us than
the positive elements, and that’s why I was accepted by
others negatively. More importantly, I was treated negatively
from others simply because reality goes before me.
Although positive thinkers boast themselves as if their thoughts are
sound and healthy, by saying that the water in a cup is half full;
negative thinkers sigh with a defected air and say that a cup is
half empty. However, it doesn’t make any difference how you think,
men’s thoughts cannot surpass the physical phenomena
and, therefore, a half is a half, no more nor less than a half.
In the boundary and limit is as such, whether you like it or not,
men have to go on the path of their own destiny.
Then, why does everyone has to have a positive attitude? I suppose,
that is, not more than a writhe of the men who won’t admit reality
in desperate agony. That’s the self-gratification of men
who are not able to face the facts as they are.
[The irony is, nonetheless, man is able to bear and raise a baby
by an act of self-gratification. It’s amazing, the world is a place
full of wonders.]
A note to all the new parents of special needs babies?
Hello New Mom,
Congratulations, you are now part of a world where there is exquisite beauty.
Along with that beauty will come a hardship few can expound on. You are in the circle of a chosen few..... who become the warriors.
You will see and hear challenges you have not heard of.
You will beam with joy at the most basic skills accomplished. You will be the biggest fan EVER .
Your love for your child will endure you through all the tasks ahead.
You will be holding your breath without even knowing it and break into tears at the drop of the hat. You will think you just can't do it..but somehow you will find it in you to continue.
You will see your other children step up and advocate for their sibling and be better off because of it.
Your other children will astound you with their love and patience.
You will see the worst in humanity with stares and unkind words spoken and although it's extremely painful you will learn to push through at those times.
You will be their advocate forever.
You will be the fierce mama bear ready to swipe your claws at anyone who says "No" it just can't be done.
Each miniscule accomplishment your child masters is your accomplishment too.
The gentle pureness and childlike ways of your child will make your heart sing with joy.
You will get to know names of specialists like endocrinologist and speech pathologists and be waiting in Doctor offices more than you will want to.
You will learn of orthotics and how to use them.
You will become a Physical therapist and a Occupational therapist without the degree.
You will know that " failure to thrive" isn't so scary and you will learn to feed your child through tubes if it has to be done.
You will learn to depend on all the therapists and Special Ed. Teachers and learn to love them like your family.
You will learn along with your child.
You will know sadness and loneliness of a parent of a special needs child.
You will learn that there is a vast storage of knowledge and love and understanding with the seasoned parents.
Befriend them, join Facebook forums they are your support. Theses groups are strong because they hold each other up.
You will know love so deep and pure it amazes you.
You will become a proud parent and warrior of the most gentle soul you will ever have the honor to call your child.
Dear New Poet,
Modern poetry to me engages readers in seeking their own deep or higher meaning to life experiences. It utilizes symbolism imagery and varied verse that speaks to intellect and emotion.
The best advice I have is that which was given to me:
1) Read all types of poetry every chance you can. Make notes of poets you like and why; note poetry forms that appeal to you.
2) Make lists of words, expressions, phrases you find fascinating, interesting, anything that grabs your attention. Also, keep lists of new words and definitions. I use phone apps for notes, lists, thesaurus, dictionary.
3) Write about your own experiences, beliefs, life. Write in a quiet place. Jot down whatever comes to mind, your feelings. Anytime you get an inspiration, write it down, record it. Those thoughts you just know you will remember forever will float away in no time at all.
4) Experiment. Try different word placements, edit edit, edit. Leave it for awhile or overnight. Edit again. Read your piece outloud. Pay attention to awkward points and edit those.
5) Have fun with it. Throughout the day, observe situations and people. Be open to suggestions and critiques. Poets never stop learning.
A workshop assignment led me to poetry at a time when I was emotionally on overload. Besides being therapeutic, writing poetry gives me a sense of accomplishment.
Favorite THEMES include the joy and pain of 1) Love, 2) Family, 3) Sobriety, 4) Death, 5) Nature.
My favorite REFERENCE sources are: 1) rhymezone.com, 2) howmanysyllables.com, 3) PoetrySoup Cliche Finder, 4) smallseotools.come, 5) shadowpoetry.com
Favorite poems I have written are: 1) Grandsons, 2) Absence, 3) Remembering Johnna, 4) Lady, 5) Surrender or Die, 6) Pocket Watch 2, 7) Time Of Us, 8) No More, 9) Girls of Halloween, 10) Halloween Birthday.
My literary BACKGROUND: Always an avid reader, journalism courses led to newspaper editing and reporting. After 25+ years of a successful medical research and transcription career, physical problems forced a change. As a member of a local writers group, two short stories were published, and in the last few years, as an aspiring poet, several poems have been published.
Possible Title - Let Your Poems Say It For You
May 15, 2018
Tips For Modern Poetry Contest by Line Gauthier
Third Place
In the whispering silence of a moonlit night,
where stars wink like old friends,
I drift along the river of my thoughts,
an unbound stream of consciousness,
Flowing through the landscapes of potential and purpose,
where dreams dwell like forgotten treasures.
Most of us,
shadows of our true selves,
live in shallow waters,
afraid to dive into the depths,
Creating busywork,
weaving webs of distraction,
as if afraid to face the stillness of our own souls.
Oh, how we toil, like ants in an endless march,
building castles in the sand,
Not because the work is urgent,
but because we do not know the art of being.
We are craftsmen of the banal,
architects of the mundane,
lost in the frenzy of doing,
When all we yearn for is to float,
weightless and free,
on the river of life,
to be carried by its gentle current.
Imagine a world where laziness is a virtue,
where idlers are the sages,
Where shaking off the chains of duty is a path to enlightenment,
To bask in the golden glow of a sunset,
to savor the sweetness of a moment unclaimed by time,
To relax into the embrace of existence,
to find joy in the art of simply being.
I do not preach a life of total inactivity,
for such would be a disservice to the soul,
But rather a life where each act is a dance,
each gesture a poem,
imbued with meaning and grace.
Let us not be prisoners of our own making,
bound by the chains of needless toil,
But the artists of our destiny,
painting with the colors of purpose and passion.
For in the quiet moments,
where the heart beats in sync with the cosmos,
We discover the true rhythm of life,
a melody that calls us to slow down,
to listen, to feel.
To be busy is not to live,
but to be alive is to flow,
to ebb and surge with the tides of meaning,
To find the balance between action and inaction,
to dance on the edge of potential and peace.
So let us embrace the wisdom of the river,
to be lazy in the pursuit of joy,
To be idlers in the garden of dreams,
to cultivate a life that blooms with significance.
For in this dance,
this flow of consciousness,
we find the essence of our being,
And though the world may rush around us,
we shall move with the grace of those who understand,
That the river of life carries us not to the shores of accomplishment,
But to the ocean of our own infinite potential.
It is like a drunk
or addict reaching that 'so called' stopping off point. That point
where one can't imagine life with or without the fix. Writing is like that.
Obsessive, progressive, addictive. A fix. Scribes need it to 'feed the rat.'
Recently I have felt
overwhelmed reading all of the BFAs and MFAs out there, being at most an
amateur ham and egger myself. Writers all strive arduously to organize words
into some form or message that people enjoy. That touches them. That they
identify with.
I've dreamt of hearing,
"Ahh, your words meant so much to me!" And, immediately I fall into
delusional dreams of people swooning. This helplessly addicted novice would
be left to wallow, pro tempore, in the juices of their nouveau riche, yet
auspicious skills? It is simply not like that though, people!
Most of the time
writing is line by line, meter by meter, and word beside word. Then edit,
clip, and rewrite. And all of that to be a novice 'ham and egger.'
Look at
E.E. Cummings, James Agee, Carl Sandburg, Ernest Dowson, Gana Gioia.
All of them capable of writing something complete, abiding, and significant
in less than sixty words.
So significant that
one can return to read and reflect upon the words all the years of a life.
No chance of my ever
writing something compelling like one of those guys? Maybe, I could channel
an inner Dylan Thomas? Perhaps, if I touched the oxfords of Dr. Seuss?
Now, there is a good plan! That Sam I Am, That Sam I Am,
I do not like that Sam..............E-I-E-I-O!
Perhaps, if I had voted for Barack Obama I would be
more sensitive and artistic? All muses, artists, and
sensitive people vote Democratic, don't they? ---
Yes, that's it! If I change my voter registration I'll suddenly
awake one day with all of the angst and existentialist ardor
of Sartre or Dostoyevsky!...........................****, not a chance.
A better strategy might be
to write poetry for all of the right reasons. It is very much worthwhile
expression and communication in our age. It is an accomplishment if
even a handful of people every read the words. Poetry is still important
today. Its benefits enable the author to 'dig the well' of their life experience
deeper with every topic completed.
The words are there. All one has to do is gather them fearlessly!
November 5 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on 1Corinthians 3-4
Key Verse – 1Corinthians 3:7 So then neither is he that planteth any thing, neither he that watereth; but God that giveth the increase.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY FAITH-INCREASE GIVER
Lord God, You are my faith-increase Giver,
substantially feeding me with Your provision
Thank You for sufficing me against murmuring by Your satisfaction
Forgive me for not believing Your need meeting-function…
Please brace up my spirituality toward heavenly productivity-fruition.
Lord God, You are my faith-increase Giver,
securely planting me in Your contentment
Thank You for watering me so I can grow by Your nurturing enablement
Forgive me for not maximizing Your grace-propped empowerment…
Please uphold my commitment for Your favoured accomplishment.
Lord God, You are my faith-increase Giver,
strongly building me up by Your might
Thank You for illumining me with Your Scriptures’ light
Forgive me for not working well according to what is right…
Please cleanse my temple where Your Holy Ghost dwells day and night.
Lord God, You are my faith-increase Giver,
sturdily guiding me with Your wisdom
Thank You for inviting me to participate for the advancement of Your kingdom
Forgive me for not enjoying in Your will because of my carnal boredom…
Please instill in my virtue genuine love to serve You with blessed freedom.
Lord God, You are my faith-increase Giver,
steadily reigning over me with Your goodness
Thank You for teaching me dependence to Your trustworthiness
Forgive me for not blooming because of my slothfulness…
Please nourish my growth against interfering worldliness.
Lord God, You are my faith-increase Giver,
soberly instructing me by Your Word
Thank You for directing me to stay in Your truth of divine record
Forgive me for not obeying Your ways along the Spirit’s sword…
Please shield my heart from deceit that brings fellowship-discord.
Lord God, You are my faith-increase Giver,
straightly ministering to me as Your steward
Thank You for assuring me Your triumph for sacrifices’ full reward
Forgive me for not trusting You in my unbelief as I slide backward…
Please protect my steps as I follow You in marching forward.
November 5, 2023
“I’m reading your poems, Mama”
She wrote while we were chatting online today
I was thrilled
What could give me more joy
Than to have my 19 year old
My only child, the light of my life
Read my work?
Then she typed…….
“I read it, Mama
The poem you wrote about Daddy,
‘He comes looking for me’
It’s so pretty, Mama….I cried”
A warm feeling came over me
Joy…..
Yes, joy!!!
Joy that my words had moved Shereen
Or...or was it because she loved her daddy so much?
“He didn't blink an eyelid when I told him,” I grumbled.
“I know, Mama!
He isn't emotional
Be patient with him, be patient.”
I smiled
How she loved and defended him
He had just returned from Cyprus
Where he had spent several days with her
I could not go
My teaching schedule always clashing
With our plans to be together as a family
Not emotional?
If she could only understand
He had cried on his way to the airport
My husband...
The man who never cries
Who doesn't show his feelings…
He cried remembering their goodbye
After having given her a last hug
Right outside her small rented flat
He was surprised to find her on the street
She had rushed down after him
And there she was
Flagging down
The borrowed car he was driving
Waiting…wanting
One more hug from Daddy
The big college girl
Living away from home
In her own little studio apartment
There she was
Standing in the cold
Wanting yet one more hug....
From her daddy
He cried
She cried
How she loves him
This man whose genes
Seem to have dominated over mine
In creating this living beauty...
Her curly hair
Her complexion
Her height
Her beautiful shapely body
It seems that she got everything from him
But wait…..then again
She got my heart
My love of music
My depth of emotions
The luxuriant thickness of her hair
YES! I MUST and WILL take credit for that
She inherited my love for writing
She already has a poem published
My little girl
My 19 year old baby
Who reads my work
And sheds tears
She is my living breathing poem
The best of who I am
And what I have to offer
The best of my love
My greatest accomplishment
My daughter….
Shereen Natalie Ghali
My legacy to the world
Eileen Manassian Ghali
PS......if you want an idea of Shereen's writing ability, then look up the poem she wrote for me on my birthday...It's entitled...The Month of May- My Daughter's Tribute.
For mom on christmas day
When I was a small child
And the world was anew
You held my hands tightly
And my fears, they were few
When I learned to crawl
You showed me the floor
You looked at me smiling
Knowing soon I would soar
When I learned to walk
And I lost my stride
You would pick me back up again
Your hands were my guide
You were such a good teacher
You made learning easy for me
You said "She's going to be so smart"
Just you wait and see
Walking me down the hall that day
I had only you as my guide
You told me to go and play with my class
But I wouldn't leave your side
In the midst of all this new confusion
I must have felt so small
But looking up, your eyes were scared too
Your courage kept me tall
Finally I learned to stay without you
I learned crying wouldn't bring you back
But unlike the rest of the kids at school
Without you I was never on track
Over the years I made it through school
Graduation day finally came true
Recieving my diploma all i could think
Is I owed it all to daddy and you
Since the day I was born
You were always there for me
I never had to listen to fighting
Because you chose your words carefully
When I was sick you were always there
Wiping my tears away
You cleaned every bump and scratch
And you never missed a play
Not every child is luck as me
To have a female role model in their life
Its one thing to be such a strong woman
But I also watched you as a strong wife
You and daddy have given me so much for my future
My life is based on decisions you've made
And every accomplishment I have received
Is because of the foundations you've laid
Your hands are so strong and so wise
Ive watched them all these years
They've pressed cold towels to my head
And held me through laughter and tears
For more than 23 years i've watched your hands give
They have healed, they have baked, they have sewn
And now as I wake and prepare for my day
I see your hands and realize they're my own
So mama on this miraculous day
That we celebrate Jesus' birth
I want to take the time to say
How much I think your worth
All this gratitude i'm giving
May be way past due
God may have all the angels in heaven
But here on earth, mom I have you
Form:
Virility Imperiled Manhood Emasculated (mine)
No sense of accomplishment prevails to date
analogous to kudzu... inadequacy runs rampant
recurring theme extant within poetic endeavors,
and often discussed with assigned therapist (one
among many girls named Stephanie Dodds) do
GOOGLE search and see for yourself – similar
curiosity got the better of me, whose christened
name (Matthew Scott Harris), not unique to yours
truly, a poem, which theme pertaining to aforesaid
first, middle, and last namesake already written by
none other other than this scrivener) impacted self
esteem less so than inchoate nascently, pervasively
rampantly,... thrashing unleashed upon impression
hubble early (perhaps even in utero) formative days
of milne eeyore whinnying pooh wrenching, ruing
jackknifing...unsmiling, lamenting childhood's end
upon cusp debilitating psychological tragedy, where
whatsapp pining within me present mindset lodged
nexus, sans linkedin destructive buzzfeeding apathy
mired potential vitality (crying evinced powerful
lungs) quickly succumbing against brutish, nasty,
yet not short reign of innate oppression, fixation
abnegation with dereliction, asper self preservation
engendering feeble gesticulation harkening incipient
personhood crowdsourcing courtesy condemnation
damning existential insignificance motif possibly
adopted comparing not fancy free and footloose
demeanor toward none other than Boyce Brandon
Harris, thee papa, jack of all trades, (many taught
thru his own quick learning penchant), numberless
abilities + storied vocation - mechanical engineer
equalled one smart polymath strengths constantly
reiterated by mother (dearest long since deceased)
agog how papa excelled at most every endeavor,
i.e. vocational career at General Electric (aerospace
engineer) in conjunction with bajillion avocations,
hence finding his sole son (second of three progeny)
when only yeah high (a scrawny, skinny, spunky...
little boy) internalizing heaping accolades bestowed
strong, not so dark, modestly handsome biological
paternal parent with (rocking) round the clock timely
adulation, which praise papa similarly received soon
after blessed birth April ninth ninety twenty nine.
MY LIBERATOR
(Written upon the death of a thirteen –year –old girl as eulogy)
The ill-fated day of death came unexpectedly
To my great surprise
As life’s iron grasp of my hand, had lost its
Strength and vigor
And that of death’s had gained much power
And might
In vain I cried for life’s help, for she had lost
The battle
So, the cold hands of death I felt around my
Skeleton waist
Violently squeezing me with all their force
And main
Eager to extinguish in me they wish, the very last
Spark of life
And as now the shrilling wind of death, is howling
Throughout my body
I fall breathless, DEAD and motionless over the ground
Remain
Yet, I am still here, just hovering all around my
Inanimate body,
Surprised! Confused! Bewildered, nevertheless
EXISTING!
With no hands, no arms, no legs, no head or any
Other organ,
Just pure thought, pure consciousness, pure light,
In other words a SOUL
Death, you are my savior, my friend my
Ally
Thank you for delivering me from agony and
Pain
From space, time, ignorance, ignominy,
Injustice
And most of all, I thank Thee for the eternal
Life
Now, to those of you who many tears of sorrow
Have shed for my sake
One thing I have to ask: Rejoice for
I am truly alive
Dead was I certainly, when among you
Existed,
Therefore, your grief for me should turn to
Great joy,
If you do not want me to pity you and delay
My flight
Impatient my soul now becomes, needs to
Fly away
Far from human misery and every other
Worry
The only thought that exists deep down in
My soul
Is to trace back its steps to its celestial
Home
Now, I fly uninterruptedly, I am on my
Way
As the shining bright stars illumine my
Road
The road of accomplishment, attainment and
Glory
Ah, there at last I see the ever dazzling
Light
The gates of eternity to open for me
Wide
And God Himself to look at me with His ever
Blazing eyes
Calling to hurry forward and with Him
Unite
Instantly I disappear in a universe of sacred
Light
Joyful, happy, jubilant, ecstatic, ever-
Blissful
Becoming one with the ONE, immortal
Everlasting
Radiating with holiness, enraptured with
Grace
A ray of divinity encompassing the
COSMOS
Oh, how grateful I am to you DEATH
My LIBERATOR!
©Demetrios Trifiatis