Long Agonizes Poems
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Awfully loathsome in its brutality
Hate's cruelty is evil in its entirety
As heart agonizes due to its torturous despicability
Belittling human dignity, affecting creation by its complexity...
With the attack of hate's cruelty
Unborn babes can't enjoy existence wondrous beauty
Abandoned kids face challenges in obscurity
Bullied adolescents suffer in their infirmity
Battered spouses weep silently in their afflictions' severity
Discontented husbands and wives fight with pride's importunity
Victimized children wallow in separation anxiety
Struggling homes waver in their solidarity's stability
Wrecked marriages fall toward dysfunctional futility
Bitter family members escape from reality
Toward disillusionment, questioning their identity...
As hate's cruelty undermines kindness-sensitivity
Chaos and turmoil can be felt, devoid of unity
Echoing envy, contempt, panic, anger, oppression's intensity
Indeed, affecting progress and prosperity
Robbing people of joy, victory and peace around safety
While instilling fear, terror amidst insecurity
Even animals are not exempted to experience barbarity
When their welfare is neglected midst uncaring community...
When unchecked, perpetrators of hate's cruelty
Continue with their aggression insanity
While victims in their martyrdom-superiority
Stay lamenting midst abuse-propensity...
Oh! I ask God for His mercy, grace and pity*
While my soul abides in His compassionate certainty
Assured that He enables me to overcome hate's cruelty
By His offered relationship I can trust throughout eternity
Which my very being can share with hope's serenity
Striving to spread genuine love that prevails along respect's tenacity.
*Titus 3:5 Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost.
Dramatic monologue in monorhyme
April 16, 2019
Edited on May 20, 2025
9th place, "The Cruelty of Hate and the Consequences of Hate" Poetry Writing Contest; Sponsored by Michael Fulkerson; judged on 5/23/2025
On the peaks of destiny where the clouds of promises are torn apart,
I offered you my heart as an atlas of fabulous worlds.
The fervor of our love, a shooting star, dazzling and then, just a pale memory,
Now I remain like a monk in the cell of contemplation, breathing life into the charcoal of the past.
Ah, how the dream that's parted from the soil agonizes me, in times past, in another world,
Where dawns are unspoken flowers and the stars, songs for the wanderers of sublime paths.
I call out to you at twilight when the evening star becomes the mistress of my dreams,
And my heavy eyelids fall like autumn leaves, a whisper of secret in the wind.
But this phantom of yearning takes flight, dissolves into the cold nothingness,
An alphabet of dreams that scatter on the wings of the twilight.
And my soul, famished for your echoes, accentuates the silence with your name,
Descending into the cavity of every longing, gearing up for a new fast.
From my knees, fallen in dust at twilight altars, no saint has answered,
Each prayer, a cry that vanishes into the celestial tear of the night.
They look away when I search in vain for the understanding of my sin,
That simple, inevitable sin: to have loved you, ah, too much.
Seeking comfort, a ray, a divine temptation, a simple burden that never ends,
But years flow, running like water in a stream, melting on the sky of my mornings like candles in the night.
Stranger in my own ode, I wander in memories, where I was in a fairy tale, an unshaken king,
Where tomorrow, I will wander among shadows, chaotically and endlessly searching.
On the foreign road of living being, solitude will be the most faithful brother,
In the finished return to oneself, I await a word from you, a sign, a leap from the great perhaps.
In this desolation that will envelop me, where the ships of my thoughts will break,
I wait, to slide into sleep on the sound of a whisper, soothing a fate that dims within me at night.
A child weeps, but there are no shrieks, only muffled, shallow breaths
Pain distorts her face,
Eyes tightly closed, shielding her from further discomfort
Tears flow freely down the soft, pink cheeks, and disappear
She speaks but her words are not understood, they are not recognized
Quietly she suffers, as she cannot reveal the source of her pain
The pain is now her companion.
Is there no hope? No end to the pain?
She senses a presence, a scent
Instinctively she turns, knowing that soon, if only for a moment, she will feel safe
Strong, soft hands, wipe her tears
The gentle caress reassures her, easing her pain
Her face rests against the muscular shoulder, but her weeping continues
A giant hand stretches across her back as fingers adroitly caress and hypnotize her,
Warm, moist lips lovingly touch her,
She senses a heartbeat; the warmth and safety of love surround her
Her companion agonizes,
As the child’s safety is now her misery
The companion reaches deep within her, forging agony and despair
She trembles with pain,
A pain so deep seeming to have no end
A loud shrill pierces the air, and her hands move upward grasping for relief,
Trying to ease the pain,
In vain she tries, again and again,
The hands gently pull her closer, the rough stubble brushes against her
As the warm breath rhythmically showers her,
Reassuring her she is safe.
Despite the pain, she begins to calm
Her breathing deliberate, the sobbing almost non-existent
Her hands resting upon his chest as she cuddles to him
She is safe with him.
The companion remains,
Awaiting another moment, another opportunity
But for now, at this moment, she rests
Believing in the love that eases her fears,
hands that will always protect her.
Form:
An old man looking out his door,
gaze fixed on a distant shore,
reminiscing to a time, not of happiness,
or, the prospect of a bright future,
to when he was sick to his very core,
to when as a youth, he went to war
A time before infallibility had meaning,
patriotism and bravado the craze,
the future was still unknown,
vigor for life at its all time high,
a time for romance, partying, buying,
no thought of pain, deformity, dying
Too young to understand or question,
ship to foreign shore, medals abound,
will impress the girls next time in town,
sacrifice not temporary,
forever more,
a legacy etched into a wall, few will remember,
flesh shredded, burned, torn,
families mourn
A time, when he willingly went to war,
will happen no more,
all lost in youth, now unrelenting,
no blind obedience,
minimal risk,
long life, his number one ambition
As he turns back from the door,
he thinks of the youth,
here now, soon no more,
lessons never learned,
the call to war,
to common the roar,
complacency the mood,
another generation removed
The old man agonizes
over what was originally not known,
war is preventable,
life too precious to waste,
the solution simple,
his vision, maybe too late
Send old men to the front to fight,
arthritis, heart disease, poor eyesight,
let the youth enjoy their life,
his near over, its only right
Send old men, to the front, to fight
ask them to give up their life,
patriotism and bravado, still alive,
will and desire would not last the night,
old men do not rush to death in their twilight,
failure inevitable, the old man smiles,
knows he's right
Wars not possible,
if old men, are sent to fight
a lamb roams the hillside climbing rocks up and down
to find the pastureland by his lost home,
overcome by the nameless fear of the long
and tiresome day’s slow moving time,
he asked the passing cloud
“can you tell me where about is the sky of my lost home?”
saddened by the pitiless cloud floating along
with no answer as if water streams without looking back,
the little lamb cries in the sunset’s glow
as darkness thickens in the valley
unbearable loneliness heaps up in the heart of the lamb
who is troubled by the unknown reason why he has to be here
in the remote hillside
and the heartrending cry of the lamb
who agonizes because he lost the way,
who is lonely because no one is around him,
echoes any more now in the abyss of darkness of the night
that would swallow everything
In the light of sunrise
a man who appears to be worn down
comes with heavy steps, and each time he steps the dew on the grass
becomes crimson so vivid that it smarts the eyes of onlookers,
his hands also stained with blood, held a lamb in his arms
furthermore, the man’s face stained as well
from mix of oozing blood from his forehead and the tears
on his cheeks, nonetheless, the eyes of the man who staring at the lamb
that is sleeping in his arms peacefully while roaming and playing on the grassland
of the home in his dream was shining with overflowing compassion, love and joy
DID I OR DID I KNOT?
DID I OR DID I KNOT?
Upon this day I proclaim
Nothing about this day should be the same
Birds should not be singing
Church bells should not be ringing
Doves should not be cooing
lovers should cease their wooing
And as for me I don’t know what I should be doing
Do I celebrate having an alliance with a woman for 63 years
Or do I sit here and cry sixty-three thousand tears
Worst of all is that since her breath came to halt
Everyone thinks the thing’s I’ve done killed her early and it’s all my fault
The sky is still blue, the sun is still bright
But what agonizes me most is what if they’re right?
If I hadn’t sliced off another piece of her heart would she still be here?
And I cannot repent because why ask for forgiveness for something I cannot bear?
I can’t say I’m sorry, but I’ve said it time and time again
And now I feel as though I’m a pariah and the worst of all men
Did I really kill my mother with my actions, desperate as they were?
The only recompense and sense is that the only one who would say no was her
© 2011.……Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
D. of all the condolences your’s was the sweetest and most considerate! Thanks
The thinker
stares into the space inside himself
with some ignoble wonder,
"Who am I...and why?
"To found some mindless form of life
and blame it on my sculptor...
ah I see the timid wraith
who runs away from my presumption;
no they say it is awareness
that I would not face head on.
I simply stare at him, and he will flee,
Now could it be it is not life I see
but farther back into the swamp
with some finality to focus on its germ
that writhes and agonizes to prevail.
"I am a stranger in this shell,
a lark without a song,
an infant arrow with a consciousness unborn;
I am an instrument that tripped,
became a God upon a grain of sand,
that tumbled in a bowl
of some primordial soup
unable to decay.
"I do not like it very much...
that I alone must roar out to the edges
of my mushy little universe, just what is fair
and what is merely salty air
to birth in, breathe, and die.
"Or just...perhaps...there is another path
that leads to the discovery of me
back down the line, for at the basic level
I do not know myself; the past I had
did not rub off—it moved me just this far—
the night is very dark as if to smother me,
"or at the very least,
my curiosity."
~
Serene bliss prevails over prayer* zest
Amidst faith made fervent by divine brace
While I commune with God, drawn to His breast.
Though burdened heart agonizes through test
Striving well to triumph despite gloom’s trace
Serene bliss prevails over prayer zest.
When entreaty-strength is tried by doubts’ pest
My hope keeps on cleaving to offered grace
While I commune with God, drawn to His breast.
As I seek for wisdom in every quest
Enlightened along challenges I face
Serene bliss prevails over prayer zest.
Warmed by sublime intimacy, I’m blest
Midst spiritual delights filling altar place
While I commune with God, drawn to His breast.
My soul yearns to reach supplication-crest
Of service-best, since in the Christian race
Serene bliss prevails over prayer zest
While I commune with God, drawn to His breast.
*Philippians 4:6 Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.
February 28, 2022
Edited on March 4, 2022
1st place, "A BRIAN STRAND FORM" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 3/5/2022.
A lean figure, bearing love
Burdened by a need for belonging
Starved by abandonment and disregard
With eyes of plea that look upon man
Rejection's curse; an unmet gaze.
The cold, the toll
An attempt to live diminished by ignorance
Loyalty pledged, discarded by the heartless
A tale of sorrow; a tail of fatigue
Walking away, a strained wish - running away, an insuperable thought.
False safety found in humanities' trenches
Malice offering an invite, with little reward
Torture imposed upon by a hand of crumbs
Survival, not a guarantee, fortitude, a hope
Blood that oozes for paper, congeals to mark.
Escaping acts an option that imprisons
Time slows but age shows
A sight of ruggedness in motion
Wounds that offer a feed, delved into
Movement that agonizes, inciting condescension.
Unsteady breaths, signaling an end
The search for an owner in vain
Brutality suffered in pursuit of a home
A last limp affording no sympathy, still
Callus paws giving way as love remains unrequited.
Form:
The LORD is my Shepherd*; but I have goat’s charm
Thus, I shall not blame Him when I face dearth-alarm...
He protects me; yet in carnality, my body agonizes in pain
While He directs, my feet are stubborn in search for worldly gain…
He fires up my freezing soul toward spiritual revival
As my sins like filthy rags keep clinging to my survival…
Yes, I’m convinced of the Almighty’s presence midst attacking doubts
So I beg His rod and staff to smite my unbelief to win against fleshly bouts…
Cognizant of the Saviour’s blessings and bountifulness
“Why is my cup not running over?” cries my heart in faithlessness…
Indeed, God loves me, reaching down to offer His saving grace and mercy
Woe unto me if I neglect eternal life by not trusting Jesus, defying His clemency.
*Psalm 23:1 “The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.” (KJV)
December 23, 2020
3rd place, "COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (45)" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 1/19/2021.