Long Apprehension Poems
Long Apprehension Poems. Below are the most popular long Apprehension by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Apprehension poems by poem length and keyword.
Once again, heaved back into this perpetual battle,
of safety or risking once more, what matters.
Comprehensions of the topics discussed,
understanding emotions and broken trust.
Inside those moments of intoxicating vivification,
the illusion of impenetrable defenses goes under decimation.
Fear grips the consciousness from the vulnerability.
Certainties elude the futures expectancy.
Time ticks on, relentless and never resting,
patience is cardinal to ascertain the resulting probabilities.
How quickly memories of hopes and wishes can resurface,
Those sweet day dreams filled with harmonious bliss…
Yet, danger is being sounded, constantly and inevitably,
for sooner or later, this bliss is torn from me.
No longer can this agony continue to reoccur,
to let the briny moisture gather and cause my sight to blur.
Forever stained is the cognizance of recollections,
morphed and twisted they are, by negligent attentions,
Harrowing anguish have become second nature,
there fore this imperfect heart I hesitate to wager.
How to implore this inquiry of intentions,
while avoiding the creation of apprehensions.
Full of fear and anxiety, but, a glimmer of hope, one can see!
That hope, that if I fall, you will be able to catch me.
Although a withered tree possesses a charm of its own,
aside from elegance, what should this old man do,
because not even possess a taste of ordinary
but he is the man of base, the incarnation of disgust.
If wrinkled face covered with ugly age spots,
clumsy shaking hands with swollen finger joints,
mucus filled clogged throat with foul breath,
arched stiff body with fetid body odor,
are all for the aged, with what shall we distinguish the means of life.
If the point where the word beauty no longer bears any meaning
to an old man anymore is the place for him to roam
stepping on the rays of the setting sun with remorse,
he should, if not all the truth, at least sustain empty mind
in his stiffening body, rather then spread bad breath in the air,
that may be caused from the curse he made to the world,
piles and piles of bad mouths he made to harm others,
and ill wishes he made from envies toward neighbors with his
small but destructive tongue, rotted and gives off the stinking odor?
The offensive odor from the body
may also be the same as of the foul breath, because it caused
from contaminants polluting the body from taking a bath jumping into any water
if he sees one on the roadside.
If there is an easy way out or shortcut,
did not give any consideration but, instantaneously,
took this easy way.
If he finds an empty space,
not even a moment of thought, rushed to there,
sat, laid and rolled over to enjoy the space of his own.
Since wrong cannot last long
he shouldn’t see, hear or speak anymore
but leave the world without an apprehension of others.
Nevertheless, what shall the old man do!
Because life is a cycle of retribution
and is the reason he is still breathing.
And because he is breathing, he undergoes never-ending torture
suffocated by his own body odor that became an intolerable reek,
groaning for persisting pain twisting stiffened body,
while he continues seeing, hearing and mumbling.
Do you ever wonder why you are aware of,
Notice and remember some things but not others?
How some moments stick with you
For a lifetime, but others are forgotten
Almost instantly without a care?
These vivid moments are the same
In waking life or dream time,
Giving us an experience
Of gestalt involving our whole being,
Where we are in the moment
A sensual being, alert
In physical, emotional, mental completeness
And yet also somehow simultaneously outside it,
Experiencing it afresh and vivid
Truly for the first time
With the clear, calm, wondrous
Eyes of the soul.
It’s easy and tempting to explain it all
Through a physical cause and effect process,
A triggered reaction of neural transmitters
In the control center of our brain.
But although this is observably the case
It doesn’t explain
Why such a reaction is triggered
Why such neural networks
And transmitting chemicals
Even exist in the first place, and
Why and how the moment then remains
Fresh and vivid and memorable our whole lives.
Those are questions of mystery
And mystery by definition
Holds itself within a veil of questions
Something glimpsed, felt deep
In our bones, or there at the tip of our tongue
Beyond reach yet somehow known,
But not always remembered.
A mystery which resists our grasping
Which morphs and expands when we think
We have it,
And yet never really goes away
Always dancing right there
Clearly within sight in those vivid moments
Or just hinted at in our peripheral vision,
Or somewhere in orbit way out far beyond
Possible apprehension and comprehension,
Depending on what we have the connection,
Attention and interest, to notice
Experience and remember.
But through it all
The mystery remains
Dancing there,
Or should I say
Right here,
Engaging us in a life
That is both peculiarly ours
And still universally theirs
Knowing in our bones
The two, while not the same,
Are really no different,
The ultimate beauty being
This connection
Can never be lost or changed
Whether we know it or not.
(10/31/25)
Henry VIII's Last Joust
When darkness descends and all is bleak,
When the strong run and leave behind the weak.
Where, throughout the land, people cry for relief.
Who shall arise? What devil will compete?
Clothe me in armour and toast to merriment.
Fit my hand with the lance to tilt my opponent.
And to those in the stands, relax your apprehension.
(Stand back, squire!) This is beyond your comprehension.
Upon the steed, in a joust of peace, I challenged destiny
And would bravely sacrifice my life for God and country.
Down the list, I charged, but my horse stumbled and fell.
And they wept as for one dead, but I arose alive and well.
Let it be said when jest pervades memory of the King,
“He had grit, but maybe a little touched in the noggin!”
***
Note:
Henry VIII was born Henry Tudor on June 28, 1491, and died on January 28, 1547, at the age of 55. On April 22, 1509, he was crowned King of England, and reigned until his death in 1547. Henry VIII was athletic; standing at six foot and being an accomplished jouster.
On January 24, 1536, at Greenwich Palace, aka “Palace of Placentia” (located in Greenwich, England on the River Thames), forty-four-year-old Henry VIII participated in what would become his last joust. As the steed charged down the list with him at the reins, it stumbled, and fell upon him. Henry VIII lay unconscious for two hours but survived. The injuries received from the accident are believed to be the major reason for Henry VIII’s ensuing mood swings and violent temperament.
Jousting was known as the sport of kings. Two types of jousting matches were engaged in tournament jousting during the medieval ages, joust of war and joust of peace. In a joust of war, a solid, pointed lance was used to knock your opponent off their horse, and in a joust of peace, hollow lances with blunt style tips were employed, meant to shatter upon striking the opponent thereby reducing injuries.
“Cats teach us how to enjoy life. They savor every moment, from
the warm sun on their backs to the joy of a well-played pounce.”
– Anonymous
Snow stopped rubbing against my leg to get attention
when he became curious about Christmas tree lights
tangled all over the floor to the point of contention.
I saw him begin nibbling the bulbs, taking little bites,
so I shooed him away in a moment of apprehension,
afraid that he might break one. Oh, the hypertension!
That lasted all of thirty seconds, and Snow was back,
crouched in hunt mode, his eyes locked on a string.
I saw him tense, creeping closer, ready for the attack.
He chattered and launched himself like a coiled spring,
landing in strings and ran as if he was on a racetrack.
I reached for my camera. It was moment for my Kodak!
Instead of being frightened, he was perfectly content
to walk around, wrapped in lights from head to toe,
so, I let him prance like that for a while without dissent.
But when I tried to take them off, I got a hiss from Snow
letting me know that giving them up was not his intent.
It became a problem that I had to cleverly circumvent.
I thought that turning on the lights I'd already strung
might change his mind and fill Snow with a bit of fright
so, I busied myself with ornaments and stockings hung,
then found him cozied up beneath the tree. What a sight!
He was licking each brightly colored globe with his tongue.
That string still tightly wound around him, they were flung.
I didn't have the heart to take away his brand new toy.
While soothing him with my voice, I plugged him in,
standing by in case he was scared, but not my lil' boy.
Here's the photo and I swear, Snow is wearing a grin.
He's asleep before the hearth, on a pillow of corduroy.
A memory to treasure on this Christmas filled with joy.
When I placed a golden star atop my Christmas tree
I heard the faint mewing from beside the fireplace.
Snow's big blue eyes were open wide as if in plea.
I just couldn't stand the sad look upon my kitty's face
and put a star on his head, then got a holder for a battery
so his lights could move with him. Now, he's purring at me.
The name pronounces in a Chinese mind
Sounds similar to onomatopoeia words made
When hearts felt phonologically bored
By a misthought on linguistically decaying
Or a loss of ordered hilarious carouse
Anyway, I have been quietly with it for years,
With countless eyesight over my shoulders
It is a famous existence contrasting to mine
A neighbor to whom needless to talk to
But we are a collective name to represent
For a belonging of the people living around
A lake of water that is so clean and quiet
We've been staying as such for years
Having a short meeting with each other
Such as young men and women on blind dates
Full filled with shyness, reluctance, and desires
but we are so different from them by degrees
Both of the acceptance and of the integration
Included with people by their homes and lands
By ways of simple, obvious, and unconditional
I stay with this lake alike the pines on shore
With the algae in water, the birds overhead
While fish swim, shrimp jumps, and jellyfish dance
All between us are inclusive and simple
They are obvious no need to be garrulous
For apprehension by persons used to flaunt
At the ball...
At this point in the tale, a happy ending should be pending,
But readers now are more demanding,
And so, I'll tweak a bit the plot.
Cinderella made an entrance like aurora borealis
That sent a shockwave through the palace,
"Who is this chick? Man, she is hot!"
When the prince caught her attention, his anxieties enflamed him,
But when she smiled, he overcame them,
And asked her if she'd care to dance.
The king and queen were sore relieved
Because they'd had some apprehension,
To girls he'd never paid attention,
They thought him something of a "nance".
But by the time the waltz was over he was thoroughly enraptured,
This girl his royal heart had captured,
And her to wed he was inclined.
Mom and Dad looked on with pride,
And it was then and there decided
To get the two of them united
Before the prince could change his mind.
But he was well and truly hooked, and as to true love she surrendered,
Cindy suddenly remembered
She must be out of there by twelve.
If she hung around too long
Until the tower bell stopped tolling,
The whole darn thing would start unrolling,
The midnight knell would end the spell.
So Cinderella fled the ball, but just before the spell was broken,
She dropped a slipper as a token,
And hoped the prince would come around.
But when the clean-up crew was through,
Along with hairpins and nail clippers,
At least a dozen single slippers
Had been turned in to Lost and Found.
When the prince saw all those shoes, he didn't ponder which or whether,
Just one was crystal, the rest leather,
And he knew what he had to do.
He had his mother pack a lunch,
And Benzedrine he grabbed a fistful,
Then off he shot just like a pistol
In hot pursuit of that glass clue.
To be continued...
I approached him, astronaut suit tight to my ribs and thighs, but hesitated at the anti-climax of the meeting. We were in the same spacial area but inhabited different worlds because simply I had oxygen and he did not, or it did not. His perceptions couldn’t take him into an ordered relationship with me, his eyes maybe could not love like me, his torso did not spring arms to hug, his head did not glamourise him with hair, and his mouth did not support a controlled tongue which could wield expressive language.
Indigo meeting,
No relationship offered,
Only stares confound.
I wanted to know if he could spout goo, space dirt or even acid, so I took a small step to for him to expose his personality. He squealed, or so I thought he did because I couldn’t hear him in my helmet, and then squirmed just like an enormous worm. He did not apparently have an apprehension of my friendly gesture, but at the same time he did not actively object to my figure, so after a second I returned to my non-controversial position and he circled and circled and did a bit of a dance. I realised then that I could love him as I should as he’d shown me that he understood basic movement and that he had some body rhythm.
First move mine, human,
Any reply, any way, fine,
Gratified maybe.
Taking him home would’ve been perfect, back to earth to enjoy a specially made atmospheric arena, and we would’ve observed him because he would not have been as a teen observed in a glass box or as a person unwell who is sectioned for sedation, but he would’ve had a relationship with me, entertainment, and hopefully fun in his own sphere. We would’ve let him and encouraged him to develop so that he could’ve grown his brain in order that he could’ve spoken to me for him to realise we only wanted to share our humanity with him, love him and learn from his existence. But how could we transport him without accident and with respect for his physiology and his own special systems? Could it be done?
The gem oxygen,
Two worlds expressed bodily,
Oh come back with me!
The night is the hardest time to be alive and 4 am knows all my secrets ~ Author unknown
Now I lay me down to sleep
With visions of sorrow and grief
Friends from which there’s no relief
Bringing me things to concentrate on
While I imagine myself in a dream
Now I lay me down to sleep
With worries and fears following me
Into the hopes for another world
Where I might avoid the nightmares
That come when I fall softly asleep
Now I lay me down to sleep
With nervous apprehension beckoning
Yearning to bring me a lasting uproar
Which helps me to breathe deliberately
In and out, shadows and hues of blackness
Now I lay me down to sleep
With promises of pain echoing inside me
Melancholy so traumatic that I will grieve
For the moments when I was at peace
And didn’t feel so afraid of my own sleep
Now I lay me down to sleep
Awaiting morning when I’m free of anxiety
I cast my eyes deep down Inside of myself;
I stayed there for hours.
Labyrinthine corridors, I walked with apprehension;
believing my inner child might try to defend itself.
I entered; not to change her but, to help her heal.
Both of us facing the past together; I felt, was best.
Individuation is a process, not to be taken lightly;
with each successful communing; wisdom is achieved.
Moving forward, we stand strong;
moving forward, we face the past;
moving forward, we conquer fears;
moving forward, we achieve.
To the inner child, we look like the other cruel adults.
To convince otherwise;
we must perform our own soul surgery with,
psychological anesthesia.
Too little administered, she walks away;
too much, she is defensive.
Like every other yin/yang in life;
middle ground is a meal for everyone to,
eat in peace and harmony.
I went inside with my tool box;
Curious inner child and I built a bridge together;
Everyone enjoyed the reunion.