Long Appealed Poems
Long Appealed Poems. Below are the most popular long Appealed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Appealed poems by poem length and keyword.
Often, I think about my twisted bliss,
all the things I didn't do or say amiss;
and heartbreaking grief stabs me like a knife.
O, sweet were the times when my soul felt a kiss!
But, piteous and forlorn has been my short life.
My deep unseen wounds can never be healed,
and when the book of my life is read- all will be revealed;
I wake from nightmares and weep until dawn,
seeking forgiveness, in many a church I have appealed!
My twisted path bloodstained and woebegone.
The dead come creeping in dreams full of blame,
their tears and wailing fill me with horrible shame;
mom, I didn't bring you home to die, my regret is vast,
husband, why did I not loudly our love proclaim!
Each night, I step through the threshold of the past.
It seems to me that my life from the start was doomed,
when at six, I watched my sister die- all my joy was entombed;
but lovely those beautiful times when I took a breath,
from the sadness and regret- that my life has consumed!
Yes, I have been damned from conception until my death.
O, dreadful are my dark thoughts and my words,
but thankfully, nowadays I find peace listening to birds;
and I wish, wish for an existence far less gloomy,
and to turn back, back time- turn time backwards!
And why must I ever, ever recall this dismal woeful journey?
_____________________________
September 22, 2017
Poetry/Rhyme/The Piteous Chase
Copyright Protected, ID 17-9418-39-0
All Rights Reserved.
Submitted to the contest, Best Rhyming Poem
September-October 2017
sponsor, John Hamilton
Second Place
_____________________________
Written for the contest, Rhyme Time With 5
sponsor, Laura Loo
First Place
Arm piece;
Piece of glamor;
A bedazzling jewel.
Parade of fancy flesh.
Kind to his eyes.
Soft to his touch.
Mindless merchandise
Fallen breast.
Eyes swollen;
Damaged by
Reckless owner.
Invested in the flesh.
He has stashed away
Yesterday’s
Pleasures
numerically.
Stored
in backroom boxes
Of subfuscous
treasures.
Women
Tucked away
As for yesterday’s booty.
Serves now but as an
Unattractive prize;
Weighed with eyes’.
and lustful hearts.
For her, no fresh start.
Ahh!, but for him
New glitter sachets;
As she parades
In her fine attire.
She has appealed
to his recent desires.
Maids and maidens’
He added them;
Subtracted, them
From the human collection.
Once attractive royalty,;
No longer appealing.
Pleasures weighed
By false measures.
Determined by a heart,
“wholly without loyalty”.
whose fault?
I say…
“Her fault totally”.
SILENT TEARDROPS
Silent teardrop, inert,
made a sudden stop.
Sparkled, became alert.
Ready to gallop.
Teardrops rolling silent
You cast a glance aslant.
Nascent crescent descent,
appealed to enchant.
Silent teardrops restless,
slipped, sliding on cheek.
Teardrops pearly peerless,
whelmed me, felt sick.
Pinkish passion bubbling,
sending ardent urge.
Crimson desire wobbling,
Our love to converge.
02/25/18
It was a release of the Jewish captives
sent back to Jerusalem
Isaiah appealed to the people
and this is what he said to them
yes, you know God
but do you comprehend?
that He's the God of all
from the strongest to the weakest of men
He is our source of strength
He is our power line
He is our encouragement
time after time
soar by seeing
how are ancestors did rise
Rebecca finally had twins
it was a great surprise
it was a 20-year wait
but she never lost her fate
now Moses made an almost fatal mistake
he forgot to circumcise son but his wife
Sipporah responded to that take
sometimes as women we have to
move beyond tradition
to rise up take a stand
and realize our position
and Elizabeth in her later years
eventually gave birth.
Her son John would go on to baptize Jesus God here on earth
and Phoebe also rose up
to become a trusted teacher
she excelled to be a confident of Paul
that great gospel preacher
never forget our faith walkers who
witnessed, worked and worshipped Christ
our ancestors and aging sisters
who rose up in every aspect of life
never forget their sacrifice, their service
and their struggles
as they understood the process
and for us endured the troubles
so soar like mighty eagles
rise above all of life's upheaval
and understand that aging
is not a bad thing
as you comprehend the wisdom
that age and experience does bring
so soar by seeing our ancestors
and aging sisters rise
soar as you see the best is yet to come because you now realize
that the shoulders you now stand on top of are your ancestors who now dwell above
they were your repairers of the breach
and responders of your past
so hold on to their legacy
and be compelled to one day surpass
understand your assignment
hold fast to your mission
now soar and rise above it
with a godly ambition
soar by seeing our ancestors
and our aging sisters rise
ascend to a higher plane
and claim that heaven sent prize
He dwelled in depths I dared not enter
Satan the landlord; he the renter
He packed his things but left behind
a lidded box he hoped I'd find.
It was not of the Pandora kind.
Curious as to what he'd put inside...
Yes, I was inquisitive enough
to know if its contents had the power
to devour me whole or leave me sour
over the promises he didn't keep...
the vows he broke that made we weep.
He'd stolen my heart and I wanted it back
I the prey, he the hunter.
Sunset descended behind willow trees
before it felt right to open the lid,
for in darkness, he'd left me in sorrow,
grimly haunted by the memories of him.
In stygian shadows is where he often hid.
How fitting the hour of midnight appealed
to me to unseal the box, its cover to lift.
Therein I found his silver wedding band
and felt I should thank him for this final gift.
In the box of dreaded darkness, I found light.
A gift I understood as I held it in my hand.
He the giver, I the receiver.
One day, the trees sought a king,
A ruler their hopes would bring,
In the land where trees stood tall,
But in their quest, a cautionary call.
To the olive tree, they first appealed,
"Be our king," they fervently revealed,
But the olive, revered and grand,
Declined, oil slipping through its hand.
"Shall I forsake my oil's divine glow,
That honors gods and humans so,
To rule over trees, in earthly domain?
No, my essence, I shall not profane."
The fig tree, adorned with fruits so sweet,
Was beckoned to take the royal seat,
But it, too, refused their noble plea,
Preserving its purpose, fruitfully free.
"Shall I surrender my succulent prize,
The taste of delight that satisfies,
To govern the trees, in earthly embrace?
No, my harvest, I shall not erase."
Next, the vine was summoned to sway,
"Come, be our king," the trees did say,
Yet, it, too, declined the sovereign plea,
Sparing its nectar's celestial decree.
"Shall I relinquish the wine I bestow,
That warms both gods and humans, aglow,
To rule over trees, in this mortal realm?
No, my elixir, I shall not o'erwhelm."
Finally, they turned to the thornbush bare,
Desperate for a king, in their despair,
It offered shelter, with a warning clear,
A choice to embrace or face fire's sear.
"If you crown me king, your sovereign guide,
Seek refuge within my shade, wholly inside,
But reject this, and witness the fire,
Consuming cedars in a dreadful pyre!"
Too late did the trees learn a lesson profound,
As do good men who stay silent, unbound,
Choosing passivity in public affairs, they bear,
To be ruled by the malevolent, a price unfair.
So rise, oh virtuous souls, heed the plea,
Engage in the struggle, let your actions decree,
Take up the mantle, courageously embrace the fight,
For evil triumphs, only when good turns a blind sight.
his mouth was wide open like a whispering heart
‘bring me sex drugs rock and roll back the years’
but prayers went unheard and the little blue pill
failed to arouse healing and he went flaccidly home
from the bawdy house at which he exhaled a curse
still passionate he grasped a manual on hot love
marvelled at positions that took courage and strength
suppleness of body and mind and stealthy resolve
a picture book of inspiration he centred his spine
reflecting on tantra and a magic carpet holding on
to the yoga mat in search of rejuvenation and flow
his mates mocked him when pure Philia took over
'too incestuous' he decreed for 'I can do this myself
I want Eros' but Freud recommended killing his Dad
and bonking his Mom in classical misrepresentation
of Storge under cover of analysis and moist dreams
his lips were parched and he longed for a lover
or at least some dark web site for illegitimate lust
searching for meaning his book case collapsed
and the bottom shelf reached to the top of the pile
how to treat haemorrhoids did not appeal to him
neither did the DIY guide to aphrodisiac verses
Nietzsche suggested that all religion was dead
only Karl Marx appealed to all communal desire
when he considered surrendering to his old age
abandon the vacant vacuum pump he had become
and accept that the highest form of amorous joy
was to bequeath his two rubber dolls to charity for
recycling of a karmic wheel and selfless nobility
he was pleased after a quick look in the dictionary
that such impartial transmission actually existed
and when he wiped irreverent seeds from his loins
became firm in the belief that Agape was for real
19th April 2021
Agape Poetry Contest
Sponsor Regina McIntosh
Granules of recollection rub like salt
Flailing in the fog of seven years ago
Deafened by incessant frog cries
Vines dangling began attaching to each other
Drying river stagnated, slime slippery with algae
Vigorous tree growth stooped in defeat
Muddy river banks fixed my feet, prisoners
Quick sand sapped my energy, ate my memories
Spears of bygone javelin my lungs, make gasp
Emerging from the mist of six years ago
Mountain side incredibly steep left me breathless
Static crinkle hissed between my eardrums
Channels flip changed without my inference
Hard luck hollowing trunks of high altitude
Offered to swallow my past, kindly include present
Flattened cushions of childhood fights , bring distance
Spinning cartwheels into oblivion of five years ago
Faintly flickering home movies startle between grins
Marbled images depict how we were, junctions punctured
Paths deviated, split decisions, moments distilled
Bottles broken, options poured, down the sink
Faltering swell glimmers foaming overdrawn fantasies
Slices rewound reflect fleeting of four years ago
Head barely above, awash in nonsense, victim of tides
Pushed under and pulled above, or is it more apt
the other way 'round, heavy, ocean surrounds drowns
Pencil case zipper obediently conceals, shoved down
Fragmented fragrant shavings of three years ago
Greyed erasers took too much, left the wrong stuff
Coloured stubs refuse to function, shrink upon prompting
Mirror tells me glamour remains against toughest test
High eyebrows, pristine lip lustre of two years ago
Marilyn wink in the blink of camera, busy filtering truth
Tree hugging Boho took over, appealed to populus ideal
Cocaine sand between toasted toes, garland encircling forehead
Currently I'm languishing in roses
bestowed by crown of thorns
* * * * * * * *
He sauntered into the room, head held high, exuding might
His gaze swept the room
His aura was palpable
So strong, exuding so much power
Oddly enough, his presence evoked a soothing calm
That is what people feel when they don't feel like they are under your control
Fear is natural, his motto he would say
The feeling to withdraw when things go wrong
The thought that you would be judged
All those things were embedded in a person's core
Fail a thousand times, Lose a million times
Attempt is better than neglect
Right and wrong he knew them all
The ways of the world were crystal clear
His failures had many lessons
But he seemed to learn from each one
A man who could walk the walk
But spoke not much
Yet, his silence spoke volumes to me
I was hopeful
His confidence I began to possess
Chin up, shoulders straight
He said to walk
His patience I learned to obtain
Impulse actions I controlled
His resilience I understood
Fear gave away to determination
I worked all day and prayed
Wisdom weighed upon him
The struggle he faced is the reflection of his present
I aimed to match it
I strived for excellence
If my mentor was that perfect
Surely I would become second best
The seed I sowed all day would grow and flourish well
The joy I had when it did made my heart swell
Hard work comes with a test
Failing never appealed to me
Tendency is, to apportion
Love:
like slices of iced sweet
at a party
braying festive, 2 playful swipes
at a swinging, loaded donkey
(not the husband this time)
toffee for the dear loyal mate --
allotment of love, for precious children;
for all our Prayer-family, appealed
a canopy of blessed shade, like that
bible gourd,
cat and dog needing, also,
some petting reward – no special
reason...just because --
to the poet, as with painter,
superseding costume body of flesh,
art is voice-echo and representative
image
one's deeper beating sentient part
ventricle tools, the writing pad, the brush...
more poignant the words,
broader the expansive, lyrical stroke:
ruled paper or mystifying canvas~ the soul,
a bottomless well from which to
creatively
draw
fluid destinies
for controlled dabbing
abundant dashing-splashing
spirit-inspired
awesomely appealing
saturating pour --