Long Anguishes Poems
Long Anguishes Poems. Below are the most popular long Anguishes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Anguishes poems by poem length and keyword.
Neptune:
I believe what I endowed the earth
with the swashing foreland when
the arogant waves strikes and take birth
of gentle ripples while flashing back
To the oceanic abyss, the sapphire peace. But
Where are you my marine fille?
Come and spread your crimson caudal fin
on the swashing foreland
dress your long aureate hair with
the white shells of the long dead snails
those gliding away with the ripples flashing back.
What haunts you?
The black ugly Ogre?
No fear! Don't be afraid!
Your beauty will reflect a blaze
And the Ogre will no longer come on your bay.
Ogre:
When the ocean is rough
and the tide is high
with the moon I rise with my malign wand
I savor the beauty to ruin
that you endowed with your charming wish.
And your marine fairy?
She is confined deep down in the blue
Lonely and in the dark
In my drear world of torments and fear.
Her little cry with my laughs
brings the rising tide and wakens my pride.
She will be cursed, she will shed with blood
Even your divine words will be her
birth of a daemon's life.
Neptune: 'Ogre',
You will never see the moon again
once she finds her way out
The fear of her what you are laughing at
Is the sword of her liberty
And when she is done withal her anguishes
Is the form of her divinity.
Oh! My marine fille
Come!
Come and fight this evil
Your beauty with your agony
is the only weapon of Ogre's demolish.
You will then sing along with the splashes of waves
you will swim with the seagulls coming from distance
you will dive with the Delphinidae
and hide, seeing the boatman's fish net.
Fairy:
I suffered a lot, a lot more than what you felt for me
'Mother Neptune',
Forgive me for I could not trust my own beauty
As it's the only treasure that makes my lofty.
This Ogre, I was never afraid of
But I used to belive I will lose my valuable dignity.
But no more tear that ruins the beauty of this earth
I will wait for the next early morning sun
And the rays will blaze to the demolish of the being
of Ogre's evil aspires and I will once again
live to your heavenly endowed world
and swim from the foreland to the distant horizon
without being the traitor of the faith of my own beauty and shine.
Contd. "The Tale of a Fairy and an Ogre - II"
In the heart of inner wanderings hides, alas, a tormented soul,
Wilted by anguishes woven at the edge of the mind, where the thread breaks.
In verses, the silhouette of an overwhelming sadness takes shape, a landscape made of lead,
Carrying with it the bitter taste of disappointment, a sheathless sword in the chest of time.
Why do you ask, when the answers are like leaves in the wind,
A dance on an abandoned stage, where the echo of your steps resounds without witnesses?
It's a self-portrait born from the depths, marred through the eyes of another,
Living its marriage with sadness like a slow waltz, in a twilight that senses no dawn.
Admirable, enchanting, marvelous, full of refinement is the soul of the broken,
If it weren’t for the arrow of separation, the cold kiss of pain, the sterility of melancholy.
An artist's soul flying above lower realities, and yet,
Gravitating towards the abyss of a solitary Parnassian - an eternal home of muses and ideals.
Two spheres, of tyrants and dreamers, spin in parallel orbits,
Touching in the grace of a moment, a spark in the cosmic night, just an illusion of embrace.
Magnetism isn't enough, their potential fusion delayed by inertia, and yet,
A hope slipping through the cracks ceases not to breathe, fragile as a shooting star in the night.
That merciless distance, the renunciation of worthy wings, leaves the soul empty,
Starved of complicity, with anxiety as its cloak – a knight of solitude.
Thus, in the ballroom of the equinox, the artist dances alone,
To music born only of the murmur of his own dreams flooding the empty hall.
Could the eternal struggle between ideas and the heavy ankle of reality be the ticket to freedom?
Or just rainwater in the desert, where the artist, a master of solitude, sculpts his phantoms,
Awaiting a world where ships from other spheres sail with fantasy-filled sails,
And where only the poet, emperor over tear and dream, can still raise his crown from the mist.
To find an island floating somewhere in the middle of the ocean shall I go following the water as it flows? In spring, as a flower with the color of scarlet, violet, or canary; in summer, mount on the cloud passing by; in autumn, drifting along a secluded inlet for a while, then as a fallen leaf, shall I go following the water as it flows and find an island floating somewhere in the middle of an ocean?
To recover a long gone lost time shall I become a moon and stars and trail the traces of ever so many bitter and sweet memories? From a remote village in a deep mountain, send my regards through a bird’s song and await the good news coming with a cricket’s chirp, and if it become that there is no story left to tell or hear any news from the other side of mountain consider it as the time to let my dear memories go, or shall I remain as a moon and the stars in the night and trail the traces of my memories to recover a long lost time?
Then, one day, a high wind rises from the nether world, in jet-black armor, mounted on a black charger holding a lance under his arm, rushes at me, and pierces and scatters the worries, anguishes, and pains that of this worthless life has had well acquainted with, with his lance and horse’s hooves, I shall stand on the top of the hill as fluttering weather-beaten shreds of banner, and when the wind falls I shall live as neither the sun, no a moon nor the stars, but without a word, the will, or the cognition, on other side of paramita* the land of eternity.
*Nirvana [Paramita]: 1. Buddhism: freedom from the endless cycle of personal reincarnations, with their consequent suffering, as a result of the extinction of individual passion, hatred, and delusion: attained by the Arhat as his goal, but postponed by the Bodhisattava. 2. Hinduism: salvation through the union of Atman with Brahma; moksha 3. a state of freedom from pain, worry, and the external world. The Random House College Dictionary. 1980. U.S.A.
Through the prism of the soul, a mysterious alliance of reflections is bound,
Pieced together from shards of worlds lost under bare soles.
Streams of betrayal trickle over the skin, constructing ruby maps
In ten directions, to be wrung out, to be cleansed of primal anguishes.
The agony writhes, a tremor of despair suffocated between stammering sobs,
A home is built upon the canvas of reality, just to see it shattered in the porcelain of promises.
The sign of peace is vain when screams sustain an endless echo,
From the ashes of your being, the fire stubbornly flares up towards the infinite.
You tread over embers hidden beneath ash, anguish on hot coals –
Your home smokes the reddish light of dusk under the weight of silence.
The scent of cigars and the noise of fallen bottles in a symphony of shadow and flight,
Each step echoes a gathering doomed to insignificance.
A disjointed section, a star-studded rainbow with the caress of fleeting hope,
Are broken dreams and wilted wings yearning to envelop,
A flicker of the firmament, proud in the moon's reflection, testimonies of imperfect brilliance.
You are lured by the dungeon's aroma, but it's just a dream encircled by passions to which you succumb.
Rustling through oceans of quiet, the fear of the grave keeps you from the depths,
A laugh of hypocrisy breaks through, the metaphor of a cave full of echo and re-sanctification.
Be a guide on a tour of truth, if you are a helmsman on the rivers of the soul.
When the veils of silence fall, we will find ourselves in the unsaid verb, in the long-lost vow.
If I were to expose my vulnerable breath before your pure gaze,
Would you continue to kiss my wounds, to confront the red that paints your lips?
And, at the moment when scars weave stories on our skin, will you venture forth,
To embrace my enigma for a long while, even if the fire burns and sparkles within us?
Will I still be arcane enough for you, then?
What my eyes dont see...
Anguishes me, to this harsh society.
As I look to the majestic sky
I see darkness & destruction in its light.
How can one, be truly happy??
As we embark on this so.called journey
"selfishly"
those prostitutes, who lurk on the corner.
Dont ignore them!! They are someone's
Son or daughter.
Look beyound that young ladys eyes
A rambunctious, little girl waits inside.
For a glimmer of care, in a faceless
Strangers lies.
As a mothers silent prayers,
Cradles her daughters life.
And someones loving husband,
Creeps around tonight.
I Close my eyes, I dont want to see
These villians, that surround me.
They smile politely in your face
As the back is turned, a frown takes shape.
A brutal dishonesty, of the worse kind.
Manipulation, so intriguing to the weak & blind.
As the congregation prays, the preacher is delayed
On his private jet, to save there day.
Confessions of each sin, bought to him
As a collection plate, constantly circulates.
In such abundance, to make his life great.
While another waits, she couldnt attend church Today
Her sons disease fatal, if a transplant doesnt take place
Another struggles with the morgage,
To bring the family forward.
While a homeless man on these streets,
Rummages to find food to eat.
It is such a disgrace, the lack of love
For the human race.
Regardless of personal riches, I can never envy.
"Why"
They mirror selfish needs,
to compensate constant greed
Laying dormant in my dreams,
why my eyes dont want to see!!!
Because it.
Will be the destruction of our
Humanity!!!
Darkness envelopes the plain
Moving stealthily among
Unsuspecting rows of houses
Filled with unbroken sleep
The wind, afraid to move
Lest it were to awaken
Even one from the grasp
Of this wretched sleep.
And yet one feels a cry
A long lost song of hope
Silent, yet unnerving
It strives to be heard.
The long hands of despair
Seek to embrace them
The singers of these songs
That reek of loss, irreplaceable.
Tired hands work on
The day progresses and yet
An end is not in sight
The sun sets, they work on.
They feast upon the dregs
Dropped from the heavens
That are found on earth
To subdue their hunger.
Fate, they say is to blame
For their woeful condition
For their pathetic existence
Fate and fate alone.
Nature herself anguishes
Over the painful loss
Of her many children
To the unruly hands of men.
A carcass floats down the river
Its stench numbs the senses
Is it a man or an animal?
No one knows and no one cares.
The song of a newborn
Muffled by the gruff hand
That binds and drags it
Across the river of death.
The song of hunger
Slowly rumbling through
Like thunder on earth
Silenced only by tired sleep.
The song of sorrow
From deep within the hearts
Of people young and old
Softened only by time.
These are but three
Of the many songs that are
Heard only by deep silence
And no one else.
The gods above in heaven
And the gods below
Carry on with their mirth
Not hearing these songs.
Songs of silence, of blood
Songs of death, of decay
Songs of yesterday
Songs devoid of joy.
They are everywhere and yet
They are heard by none
They are sublime and merge
Into the void that is life.
?HOOKED UP WITH FANTASIZING LOVE?
Turbulences in my mind,
Tossing you up and never been so kind.
Louder my soul speaks whereas your lips
Dripping juice of seductive lime.
An impulsive urge to make you mine
Your muscular body reflects the perfect shine
And I gift you the best kisses like wine.
Anguishes made me stronger than ever
Each touch of mine makes you shiver.
You linger to my ears slightly touching my belly,
My unadorned desires invoking the lines of Shelly.
Trying to decipher the mantras to make you wild,
Where electrifying gazes make you shield.
You crave for more and more, quite teasing my breasts
And I don't want to spoil the tiniest moment of love in haste.
Troubles come to my navel arousing
my lecherous wishes
As your tongue proving to be the God of sexual bliss.
The night paints a bluish canvas with the aroma of cozy love
And my mouth sips every drop of your manly pride.
Gluing your body with mine and pricking your fingers inside my ,
You leave me to the extreme point of fantasy with the tender dignity.
Love me baby, take me higher than the limits of this sky,
Paste your devine lust and make me sway.
Dismantling every layers of our shyness,
We devoted our entities with the gel of fineness.
Infatuation blending into the adorations
Plucking the sweetest nectar of our dedication.
We end up leaving no parts of our bodies untouched,
As our connections do not have any glitch.
Cleansing the ambiguous thoughts from our kind,
Our last drop of french kisses opened up the windows of fresh wind.
~ ©storytellersuchismita
Stillness enters as silent as the bloom of a flower,
As sober as a winter night with a fine fog shower!
It secretes within just like nectar secreting noiseless,
Its sweetness is felt by hearts and minds, crystal-like! Guileless!
It is the source of strength for the mind; part of pure nature,
Law that rolls the rhythm of the psychic legislature!
It's the key to the outer truths and inner sanctity,
Everflowing stream of love springing from fraternity!
It's the leaven that transforms me and the world around me,
A global language, known to beings of the land and sea!
It's emptying self; responding to divine pulsation!
It's passionlessness born out of true renunciation!
This, like rivers, flow within when I am, with me at ease,
When I love my body and mind; worries and woes I cease!
Like an empty book, I remain open; to be written,
By the spirit of God, words that from human sense hidden!
I sleep like a child! Feel my breath, like the gentle breeze blow,
Deep within, the aura of God, like the rainbow does glow!
Stresses, strains, fatigues, pains, and anguishes like devils gone,
Faith, joy, peace, and tranquility, like fresh blossoms, are born!
O, let this stillness stay in me long, like life in fullness,
Let no forces, like hurricanes, wipe away this stillness!
Let this spread out like the fragrance of flowers everywhere,
And make the world around me a heaven of divine care!
03 November 2021
''S'' Contest, New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Inside is his MIND that's riddled full with mental illness,
Hides intellectually supreme being filled with logic, intelligence and great genius.
His sorrow is that a man, one full of mankind's afflictions, anguishes, and tears.
The subconscience keeps the burden of all the lives lived throughout many hundredstudents of thousands of years.
At his core is a centered compassion, a wisdom, a perception, and the ability of an EMPATH.
He feels the emotions of others, understanding the fullness of grace in each little wrath.
The feelings are clarified in words delivered through the LYRIC and POEMS of his blood pen.
A troubadour is within him, as is all the souls of lives he lived over and again.
Building his temple, with the tools of honesty, forgiveness, and patience that is grand.
A foundation built through pain that's strengthened with in him for his towers that will forever stand.
A conscience that gives mankind a gift of their happiness before his own.
Debilitated mind illness overpowers his decisions by emotions alone.
Contradicting bliss with meaningless aspirations with mindlessness and reasons with uselessness.
His is the pain self indulged by the mayhem that blinds then binds worthlessness.
And still his minds genius allows him to know then learn all that he touches with an ease to maintain.
For he is about the thing you fail within the contradiction of salvation.
The night falls deeper
And the pain anguishes
In the embracing laughter
The dewing ire of happiness
Falls in my lap
After the long showers of saddening
In the shady cave
The decked up soothings
Are the pebbles to play
The halting heartbeats
Traced the seraphic clouds
The defying words gleamed liveliness
And the moral adventures
Were leaking the adrenaline
No shame of others watching
The dusty clothings
Rummaged the lost girl
The crests of contentment
Had no throughs of grief
Cause there in the frames
I was letting go of poisoned breeds
Flowy locks in the sentimental breeze
I was grinning in the flashing screen
The dreamy divine was finally beaded into realm
The caging bars turned into mellowing vines
And I escaped in the shadows
The throned queen
Brought me the roar of madness
The one to seek the human hiding inside
The abscaded worries scurried away
In the flambeau of silliness
The influence of gloved giddiness
Had owned the frosted smiles
The rushing dopamine
Was glowing with my dusky browns
The cloudy cassieopia was astonished
Witnessing me sailing upright
The corrupted wreckings
Were no longer corrosive enough to hollow the joy
It was The scarlet reminder
Of me finally playing back with my betraying fate.