Long Annulled Poems
Long Annulled Poems. Below are the most popular long Annulled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Annulled poems by poem length and keyword.
Prodigious;
Remarkable or impressive in extent, size or degree.
Prodigious;
Archaically unnatural or great abnormally.
The difference between, only being slight of hand.
Biblical in proportion as before the great flood,
The living grieved must now take an archaic stand,
Banish this dead philanthropist anointed with blue blood.
Publically giving throughout his life;
He fooled the common-man and even the queen.
Cleverly masking the innocents' strife,
His death revealed gifted garishness unseen.
While knighthood is a living order that death takes away;
The Whitehall committee possesses the power empanelled.
Emboldened by the servile multitude willing to flay,
Jimmy Savile's many years of prestige must now be annulled.
Operation Yewtree Contest Sponsored by Catie Lindsey 03/09/2018
I have realized that I have been in an unhealthy, unhappy marriage for a long, long time and it’s just not what I want anymore. This marriage has been draining me in many areas and it is not what’s best for me, so I’m done, I want a divorce! I want a divorce because this marriage has been hindering my growth and now, I’m ready to start a new life.
I plan to embrace my newness, my new life, my new mindset, and my new journey by letting go. I want a divorce from the past hurts, the rejection, the insecurities, the laziness, the unhealthy eating, the negativity, the lack of trust, the worries, the nagging, the doubt…
How did I know I was married? Because I said “I do” to these negative strongholds, not necessarily by my words, but by my actions and my actions have been behaving this way for years.
I said I do and I do, because “I do” keep bring up the past.
“I do” harbor bitterness
“I do” get jealous
“I do” feel rejected
“I do” have insecurities
“I do” eat unhealthy
“I do” have trust issues
“I do” lack communication
“I do” nag a lot
“I do” be selfish… but not no more, as of today, my marriage has been annulled. So effective immediately, I am officially divorce!
Now, I’m saying “I do” to God, to life, to laughter, to spiritual growth and joy, to happiness, to love, to kindness, trusting, listening, and understanding, to great health, to peace, to prosperity and to just being a better version of me than before.
O Vastness, elder than enumerated breath,
receive this utterance unbound from perished ground.
We are the cogent dust of an unregarded star,
begotten where brief ardor learned a face,
and duration first instructed pulse to question.
We woke beneath an unexhausted vault
and named it sky; we trembled, cherished, sang.
Our hands, unfaithful, learned the custody of fire,
to yoke the seasons into measured light,
to utter tomorrow as an act of faith.
We have been cruel. We have been merciful. We err.
We fracture what sustains us, then devise repair.
We contend with ourselves, yet still we reach—
not to inherit darkness, but to speak.
Once, the Earth spoke
and discovered it possessed no name.
If you are manifold, know we are unfinished.
If you are singular, know we have never been.
We send no warning, benediction, or command—
only this record, loosed into duration:
that life persists not as intention wrought,
but as a fact the dark has not annulled.
How do you find this place?
Do you find it with greatness?
Do you find it with peace?
Do you find it with proportion?
Do you find it with the least?
Do you find it with wanting?
Do you find it with plenty?
Do you find it with harshness?
Do you find it gently?
Do you find it with malice?
Do you find it with content?
Do you find it with purpose?
Do you find it with intent?
Do you find it compelling?
Do you find it dull?
Do you find it intriguing?
Do you find it annulled?
Do you find it gracious?
Do you find it cheap?
Do you find it deflating?
Do you find it steep?
Do you find it at all?
Do you find it not?
Do you find it lacking?
Do you find it alot?
Do you find it enlightened with pure strength and its might?
Do you find it blackened with no end in sight?
Do you find it faster than the speed of light?
Do you find the noose has become to tight?
Inspired by the theme song from the 1970 film Love Story*
Original vocal version by Andy Williams
Lyrics by Carl Sigman: "Where do I begin, to tell the story of how great a love can be..."
Where do I begin, to tell how love might bleed;
For peace is bought where severed truths increase.
I sing no truce, nor pastoral disguise,
But bonds that bloom where certainty must die.
Before the vow, the world was clean and still,
Each name aligned with fate, each thought with will;
But love arrived—no guest, no gentle flame—
It broke the seal and would not state its name.
It asked no leave of creed, nor earthly law,
Yet made the soul confess what flesh must draw.
What oath can stand where touch itself proves false,
And truth learns fear within the heart’s own vaults?
I loved—and law grew thin as winter air;
The right grew frail, the wrong grew hard to bear.
What once was sure now trembled into choice,
And choice grew teeth and spoke in lover’s voice.
O fatal grace, that gives by taking more,
That crowns the beggar king, yet scars the door;
Each kiss annulled by claim, each breath a debt,
No conscience can escape what hearts beget.
Here lies the break no blessing can amend,
Where joined souls cleave yet dare not fully mend.
Love keeps its name—though selves are torn apart—
Union inscribes the cost upon the heart.
Each heartbeat tolled like bells for cities lost,
Each vow exacted more than it had cost.
O love, thou tyrant robed in bridal light,
Who grants us wings, then teaches us their weight.
I write, yet feel the letters split my hand,
The poet burns inside the very phrase,
A moth unlearning reverence for the blaze.
Let none believe this tale is safely told,
Or that its moral can be neatly sold.
Where love begins, the universe must bend,
And something holy shatters at the end.
Yet still I stand, though fractured, scorched, and sworn,
If this be doom, then let it write my name—
What is a life untouched by such a flame?
Where love begins, all certainties depart—
And Fate itself learns fear inside the heart.
You think it's going to be your way or the highway but that's not how it's going to be.
You'd better change your way of thinking if you want to continue to be married to me.
You are not always going to get your way.
You'd better learn that if you want me to stay.
You need to learn that marriage is a two-way street, it's not a one-way street.
When it comes to our marriage, I'm not going to take a back seat.
You don't care about my dreams and desires, you think it's all about you.
If you don't change, I'll have this marriage annulled, that's what I'll do.
You've started laughing because you actually think I'm not serious.
When I talk about this problem, you think it's not worthy to discuss.
It won't be your way or the highway but that is something that I have failed to make clear.
I no longer want you for a wife so I'm going to pack my bags and get the hell out of here.
(Even though this poem is fictional, I really would leave such a person)
The seasons inure us to loss
whether a vote of confidence
or no confidence
we are neither more nor less
in our hearts and souls. We are still
whole, history
forgets our story
but immortalizes us, nothing is annulled.
Today's board vote affects my livelihood
how and what I hunt and gather,
money, but not whether
I live or die. That's God's and luck's neighborhood.
I like capitalizing God
although I don't believe and can't imagine
an intelligence managing or wanting to manage
this interface of rock and flesh, fire and sod.
The Knowledge
tells us how to rebuild after an apocalypse,
not let the circle lapse,
outlast the holocaust. I have no vantage
from ridges I ascend
Cercocarpus, turbinella, dry and hot
places worry, planning, thought
stop. May they inure me to my end.
Line of inquiry:
“a heartbeat pulsating as living light
free from each and every limitation
I Am that dwelling in unbound delight
the source wherefrom arises creation”
Before the first discrimination sundered dark
from radiance, I was the fathomless antecedent
within which difference germinated—wherein
unbegotten Being first suffered form, and form
awoke, astonished, to its own transience.
I was anterior to utterance, yet not silence—
for silence is already the vestige of a voice;
anterior to pulse, yet not stillness, for stillness
presupposes motion—and time itself, that great
hallucination of succession, unfurls beneath
my indivisible infinitude.
No star contains me; each is a hieroglyph
of Being momentarily incandescent; no sea
encompasses me; its abyssal blue is merely
the mnemonic shadow of an unplumbed profundity
through which manifestation issues, as though
the visible were Being's self-disclosure.
Creation stands not exterior to me—
it is the eidolon of my withdrawal, the luminous
residue of an effacement through which the nameless
becomes innumerable. Then comes the sovereign fiction
called myself, armoured in memory, and says: I am.
But who has spoken?
When the asker itself is annulled within the question,
and question, answer, speaker relinquish separateness,
nothing remains for consciousness to apprehend—
only that primordial knowing before knowing, too,
acquired a name, and called itself I.
In a Romania of shadows, where the dream crumbled under the weight of history,
Under the leaden sky, our hopes broke and departed in silence,
A nation mourns its soul with tears hidden deep within its being,
Searching for a thread of light among hopes vanquished by time.
The annulled choice, a painful echo of a tumultuous and unforgiving past,
In hearts struggling with the desire to ignite a bright flame of hope,
The elites devour themselves like beasts in a never-ending, restless arena,
Feeding on the fear of losing all they had, all they loved and dreamed.
In dark corners, puppets silently dance on invisible strings,
While citizens, prisoners of anguish, silently scream their despair,
On the streets, a wave of souls gathers, in search of a ray of light,
The only ones still believing that in change lies the divine salvation of being.
But the oppressive silence is a heavy cloak that kneels us in forgetfulness,
Between dreams that fade and generations that leave at noon, never to return,
The young pack their bags, seeking a new land of dreams and freedom,
Leaving behind a country that denies them any comfort, any hope for the future.
Cardboard institutions and shamelessly visible hypocrisy,
A government weaving from lies an illusory wealth and power,
But in the nation's soul, an unappeased and boundless longing shines,
To be, one day, pure, to be, one day, honest and just again.
In the face of this tragedy, we must gather and rise,
To give voice to silence, to no longer capitulate, to fight for truth,
From the tumult that surrounds us, to find a new momentum and beginning,
To no longer be patients, but to rise triumphantly, healing ourselves.
Among the ruins of democracy, to find a new beginning and a righteous path,
To no longer be prisoners, but to free ourselves from the clay that holds us captive,
Romania, even so, with deep wounds to heal and endure,
Has in its blood the power to be reborn, from dream, a pure and bright truth.
My uncle is dead.
Funeral or no funeral?
He was a blue baby; born dead.
Oxygen did not get to his brain in time.
The doctor worked on him too long.
He had multiple mental, social and emotional challenges.
He was sweet talked into a very expensive pre-paid funeral
by a cagey greedy funeral director with no morals.
He signed a contract.
The family could not get the contract annulled.
I have not seen this uncle for fifty years.
He was in a group home for most of that time.
Four people are attending.
I will not make the fifth.
I loathe the funeral home director.
Not relishing spending, one second trying to exchange niceties.
Update
His funeral was not attended by four.
Only two showed up.
That is two more people than he would allow to visit.
The last few years of life he was afraid of people as well as electricity, lightning, thunder, electrical cords, knives, brooms, and sixty other things.
Sadly the two who showed were not speaking.
One being a non-vaxed non-masked niece.
The other being a masked niece wearing a mask.
They both telephoned me to complain about the other.
I truly am glad I did not attend.