Long Aspire Poems
Long Aspire Poems. Below are the most popular long Aspire by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Aspire poems by poem length and keyword.
I am whatever you say I am...
but, let's get back to reality...
Three short years ago, this room shined welcome mats across a screen of doldrums.
A place of unfamiliarity that screamed,
"You don't belong!"
Yet, a voice of reason spoke and said,
"Expand yir' roots. Venture beyond the comfort zone. Academia resides inside that room, but know you won't be alone."
Repeatedly,brainwaves declined what my wife and editor had told me.
I'd say,
"no way, I'm givin' up my soul for free, they read, they pay, like it's always been, the way it's going to always be!"
Unbeknownst to me one day, and with a slight of hand, my "Open Sores" were put on display and surprisingly more than a handful of great ladies and nice guys began to give feedback on what I had devised.
This interaction was something very new, helpful, and impressive. For a change, it was something real.
For years, those around me were quick to give praise with hidden reasons. Constructive criticism is amazing, and I welcomed being corrected or set straight.
Now there are those who choose to shut me down without explanation, and call me names.
DO NOT mistake me for sophomoric! These words bleeding from my guts have no style and need no approval. There is no thinking involved here, no plan. If you don't like it, fine...don't censor or bracket me in. So what if I am illiterate? If you don't like "street poetry" or the pathetic stuff I write, don't read it. If I offend you, tell me.
We should welcome those who are different than us.
Words of truth inspire movement, like fire.
I came to this room to expand my horizons, step outside the box, learn, help, grow.
There will be no apologies dealt for being different, or for being labelled as something uncomfortable to you.
This has been an ok room so far, but there is some clique trickanery going on.
If the dictionary must come into play, let me recommend looking up the term "Poetic License."
True, I may not be the writer you prefer, or aspire to be....but tread carefully my friend, for you have no idea of my profession. I've made a fine living, for a good long time, spewing words onto paper. I came from nothing, and may still be nothing to you...still, I do what I love, have no boss.
I am not an aspiring writer who dreams of a life, I live my dream. In conclusion, I must wish you luck in finding what you peddle poetry for. Until then, keep
I heard an angel speak last night and he said "write"
With lantern light weary I write this morbid night
The moon above the meadows move in gloomy mist
With pen in hand, hermit a man and death amidst
Oh shall I walk the aisles of graves and hundred names
With flowers full of life financed on furnished frames
Below the wind and warmth of night do whispers woe
In fear I'm not for I care take of those below
For I have seen many a man and woman cry
And I have seen many a man and woman lie
Distilled in death with only breath of the beloved
Mourning above...mornings above heavenly loved
But something is a happening around the night
If not a dream how dost darkness so quicketh light
How frogs appear around lilies that left the fog
Where branches dance with trees beyond their childrens log
As ponds appear upon plateau of grave and sand
And stars above nomadic night come down to land
And voices of the birds play like a violin
And whispers of the wind hum like a hundred men!
It is at this moment that wings appeared to be
Uplifted from the back of her in front of me
Dear Angel, ye are he that spoketh write of thee
But in the nude in front of me am I to flee?
With hair in waves and arms extended out to see
Appeared to me...appeared to be...a flame of sea
That swept the cemeteries floor with torch and fire
And all in death consumeth life 'twas her aspire
A paradise on earth and wedding full of life
As they I have buried myself were full of light!
Women and men and children spread
A graduation of the dead
Ceremonious gift of beings
Thy conquered death, thy wearest wings!
Forth in her hands were flowers of a thousand-fold
And when she walked her footsteps formed a flood of gold
With every step a flower from her drew to ground
In mystic motion as she moved her wings would sound
Just like a brush of wind, angelic crystal wings
Face of fertility that wore a crown of rings
Unselfish all in all with fingernails of fire
Did pierce my heart into my soul a strong desire
To learn to love and love to live and live to give
Yes even in the dire darkness something lives
Believe me not and no one shall when I doth tell
The timid night I heard an Angel's voice exhale
Oh Angel it is thy that is in sacred stone
That came to me in flesh and now thy flesh is gone
Johnny Sumler
June 17, 2011
Angels In Cemeteries
With shooting stars’ blessings* beyond celestial, I praise God with all my heart
Since His assured sufficiency-goodness for me will never depart
I believe that He will grant each of my desire:
And everything that for His honour I earnestly aspire
To stay constantly in the center of His perfect will
While in His compassion-care I'll keep still;
To fulfill His assigned task for me He has uniquely designed
As in His satisfaction I serenely bask to which I willingly resigned.
Midst shooting stars’ heavenly presence, I'll worship the Lord by His grace
Loving Him with my spirit, soul and strength all the days...
Hence, I yield to Him, upon faith's fervency, my supplication-filled hopes
Knowing that He knows what's best beyond my mind's scopes:
The complete recovery of my loved ones thru His divine miracle healing
Also the full restoration of those who are spiritually ailing, falling and failing;
The remarkable progress and developmental milestones of my special child
As well as those undergoing therapy, rehabilitatively-styled.
Never bereft of divine shooting stars’ experience, I press on toward victory
Guided by the guidance of Christ I must exalt for His glory...
Therefore, to His approval do I submit my dreams
Verily aware that His omniscience can overtake my vision-beams:
Foremost is the realization of an ever-ready service-providing foundation
Benefiting mankind thru its effective welfare-geared function;
Another, though not actually impossible, is the wondrous visit to the Holy Land
Where my Saviour humanly resided according to what Sovereign had planned.
Along spiritual shooting stars’ glow, I'll serve my Creator midst challenges
Since I'm called to live for Him with His power-charges...
So then I cast to Him my worries and doubts for the future
In my faithful stewardship devotion He alone can nurture:
Fruitfulness of ministry-involvement despite hardships
Earnestness of my prayer-consecration thru heavenly partnerships;
Persistence in every discipleship-engagement
Diligence in labouring for His kingdom's advancement.
*Ephesians 1:3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath blessed us with all spiritual blessings in heavenly places in Christ.
August 14, 2019
3rd place, "Shooting Stars" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Nayda Ivette Negron; judged on 8/31/2019.
grabbing at straws the luck of the draw
some live big some live raw
a few like gods on hills of gold
every things fine just do what were told
A man on the corner needs something to eat
money walks by thinks dirty deadbeat
separated so the poor don't offend
at least when your down no need to pretend
late at night at the castle on the hill
a drunken success pops another pill
doesn't talk to his kids doesn't have real friends
his wife loves spending and the hottest new trends
a mother and her children prepare for the meal
what little there is seems so surreal
Everyday she struggles to provide
all she has is love and great strength inside
the driver takes him to the company he owns
he makes money by working others to there bones
always watching for a worker whose down
to remind them hes got the best jobs in town
eight sharp she takes the bus into work
she works for sol ittle just to please some rich jerk
the boss points out maybe its time for some new clothes
hes pays so little cares nothing for what she owes
the girls need braces but theres no way to pay
she smiles real big and says well get em someday
but shes knows she probably wont ever afford
she can barely make rent on her own accord
when he enters his mansion he feels quite alone
a beautiful house but know sign of a home
he decides it be better if workers lost there medical coverage
the company will save and even the overage
two people so very different one thinks hes what most people want to aspire to
the other wonders how long she can hold two sick days she'd be out on the street
the first one is selfish drinks every night avoids his family and lies a lot to
the second is down but will never give up and her children love her she is so sweet
these two people we see everyday I'm willing to bet you may look away
she just doesn't know how to save irresponsible i hear people say
when you see the man in his top notch suit and perfect smile
i hear people say what an outstanding man i like to talk for a while
When i see the man in his thespian role i feel a ting of pity in the heart in the soul
all the money doesn't help him see the person he his the one he could be
when i see the women struggle all day i wonder why we aren't all this way
her strength and courage virtues indeed a path of love is always richer then one of greed
Form:
Foundation.
With the considerable rise of AI software on all social media and business platforms, will humanity lose its creative edge?
Will you be tempted to do so?
Title:
Be You
(A lone voice whispers)
Be You
Forgo assimilation
And try to avoid being spellbound and tied into the new B System
Dream and aspire before you're retired
With all your soul's, inner resistance
Don't be bound to mundane hearts, no longer open to being plowed, with ravenous curious fingers
Hearts enslaved into a dark broken Labyrinth of unspoken, and untold things
Which could linger
From sad souls who've cried, as their creativity withered and died
Absorbed by the cleverly assimilated imagery and well created lies
To be one of the many lonely wanderers
Tumbling blind through inspirations now barren playgrounds
As the new, AI Hive Minds, long reach fires up to reteach
Newly breached, unconnected human firewalls
While wild valley blackbirds and starling flocks
Scream and call out in unison, at the lack of the rising poetry
Music or literature, filled with human energy
As spiritual temperatures worldwide, fall
Putting ingenuity into jeopardy
Screeching about the impending icy cold bath of human separation
As they fly as huge wailing flocks, into the Summer Equinox
With the frosty breath, of AI Death of the Soul
Lingering around like black mold
With bony fingers
Rattling without a sound
Awaiting its resurrection
As daylight recedes and people seem to lose hope
But on that Devil's Island for some of the Condemned
The one called Earth
The Exalted Ones
Maybe like you
Unassimilated and still free
Can lift up the trapped
Those poor souls caught up in The Hive Mind
Slowly been drained of personality and self identity
Lost in the humankind labyrinth of the unspoken and untold
Who needs releasing to help rebuild the new pillars of creativity upon Earth
With their eventual rebirth
This my friend with the bright eyes unseen
Has always been a worthy oath to follow
For you've always been free to share your gift of uplifting
Energetic, raw, and visual
Literature
Music or poetry
Maybe bestowed
From The Sacred Temples of Apollo
What's says you?
Are you going to strive to stay the real you?
(C) Copyright John Duffy
She needs to feel in love to drive aside the night,
I love to feel in love, ONE source of joy and light,
When love is not at home, she’s sad to be alone,
When love is not in sight, the world is mine to roam.
Beginnings bring disquiet, thoughts that might implode,
Anticipation puts my heart in singing mode,
A friend’s departure makes her shadows fall,
But I hear stranger’s voices lighting up the hall.
Experience has made her doubt her heart it seems,
While all my failures just enrich unending dreams,
Her mounting fear makes her the slave of every rule,
My foolish faith makes me a 'dead' God’s guileless fool.
She stands alone in following the crowd du jour,
While I’m more fascinated by a life impure,
Imputes blame to the victim’s of life’s latest farce,
While laughingly I stoop to kiss God’s ****.
Responsibility can’t live behind her door,
It must be me, (I know I’ve heard this line before.)
One lesson learned (defining sensibility),
Seems all that happen’s my responsibility.
So childlike in her need to feel that all is well,
It fills my soul to tell her, ‘Things are going swell,’
And though it’s true her doubts at times can cause me pain,
I hunger for the chance to tell her so again.
Oct. 12, 2014
Poet's Notes:
Man's redeeming strength, woman's affirming weakness! What makes the world go round! I find it works for me! Even when it's reversed! Viva la difference, viva la diversity! May we ever aspire to the giftings of those we love without jealousy, men learning that bending is not always a sign of weakness, and women learning to trust the strength that comes from God.
The lines...
1. My foolish faith makes me a 'dead' God’s guileless fool
is meant to be tongue in cheek, i.e., even if you thought you could prove that 'God is dead' I would continue to believe in God, your proof of no consequence. I am a questioning but mindless devotee I am afraid. No God is worse than death!
and
2. While I’m more fascinated by a life impure
simply means I take to heart Christ's teaching that no one has ever reconciled himself to God through his own effort, i.e.. justification by obedience (except Christ). If God/Christ can love the sinful you and I, shouldn't I? So yes Merov Tac (PH's resident Troll), that means I feel called by God to love even you, even though I personally hate your behavior.
In the twilight of my melancholy existence, love savors its bravery, like a vulture allergic to the suspicious aspects of ephemeral glamour, in a final macabre choreography.
On the edge of the precipice of my dramatic choices, my sacrifices reveal the artifices of their curses, but also the selfishness of their spiritual benefits in the face of the imposture of the supposed crucifixion of Jesus Christ.
The eloquence of my silence allowed my innocence to resist the violence of arrogance.
The tyranny of hegemony and the xenophobia of foreigners breed racial savagery and imperialist barbarism, while Western supremacy is transformed into a burlesque comedy trivializing negrophobia.
Suffering generates sentences, but sometimes repentance opens the way to independence, so that insolence can never turn into condescension.
Between the medals and the funerals, between the reunions and the reprisals, battles grip the rudder of my destiny, with a range of tortures.
My emotions oscillate between devotion to justice and the promotion of disbelief, urgently seeking remission of my transgressions, before the purification of the flames of hell plunges my divine spark into the furnaces of illumination.
The liberation of my ambitions contributed to the strengthening of my convictions, so that my determination unleashed the full extent of my potential.
My distance from dementia is minimal, even if the angel of death exempts me for the moment from the penances of the eternal abyss, my blasphemies sow the seeds of a new hope.
The history of my people is the memory of its victories and the grimoire of its disappointments,
Despite the decline of the pharaohs, the savagery of slavery and the barbarity of colonization, she taught me saving lessons so that my Africanness could flourish throughout the Earth.
In the permanent search for truth and sincerity, I aspire to freedom, equality and fraternity,
To a serenity, far from the vanities that humanity loves to adulate to forget its fragilities.
Between my feelings and their punishments, stands the sanctuary of the last judgment, their compliments obscure the lights of my cosmic atom.
In the quarrels of my past, the aftereffects persist, recalling the rebellious periods of my tormented soul.
I will never trust human beings, even if immortal love challenges my conscience.
There is a music that weeps comfort,
Through the distance, in quiet moments,
Healing and blessing, reminding that His gentle grace
Will flow from the heavens, embracing,
Surrounding hearts with a lasting light – the source
Of love, His love…
There is a single tear, that whispers softly,
Through the spirit who listens
To the silence, the heartfelt lonely,
Blowing beyond the oaks and pines, in the forests
Of kindness, where He stirs the mind –
With feelings, beautiful…
There is the ghostlike echo, flinging wildly,
Endless prayers, who need to blaze,
Through the darkness,
Erasing shadows who aspire to reach the maze,
Trails of lessons, imaginations, amazed,
Singing to the soul with wounds, hearts broken
By the griefs, the regrets….
There is harmony in prayers, praises, blessings,
Shedding dewlike promises,
Lyrics wild like the roaring waves on seas,
Meant to bring the spirit incredulity,
Based on sunset tangerine, in buttery dreams,
While the azure skies secret stars,
Glistening in the inferno of a blazing serenity…
There is marvelous in the dance between,
Yesterday and circumstance,
Waltzing in faded feelings, mysteries,
Erasing the darkness, the night’s wistful
Melancholy, deaf to all the poetry
Found inside a leafy grace, a stem of faith,
Where life begins and hides each glimpse
Past memories, tell-tell signs,
Breathless signs of what is to come…
There is life in the yesterdays, the hues of light,
Falling past the memories,
Hesitating to believe the truth, trembling,
On the edges of sanity, silhouettes
Glowing, embers of lasting lessons, growing,
Messages from moments, history
Coaching the lingering yearnings to believe….
There is a song in each sleeping chapter,
Within this book of hopes and dreams,
Solitude beckoning from its destiny of charms,
Rewriting the moments, soft photos,
Fragile details in the shadows, selling joy,
Breathless thanks, heartfelt longings,
Breaking through the night,
Darkest moments just before the dawn…
When I tell you that I love you, my heart beats,
Like it is breaking, …
It never hesitates to assure,
There is a poem hiding in the lines,
Between you and me,
Between hopes and dreams,
Between the shadow and the light,
Between what is wrong and right…
When I tell you that I love you, my heart is breaking for you.
Thrill knowledge with the desire to spread
Ideals across heads like grains of sand
Sprinkle little rays of brightness
Into cups full of vanilla ice-cream
If the sun doesn’t sparkle
Then there is no one to blame
But one’s own eyes
Blind to the legacy that showcases it’s prize in the middle of the day
If the moon’s enchanting lullabies don’t soothe the soul
Open up the heart and let winds
Change the currents and ease the turmoil
Tealeaves soak in small kettles over the stove
Passionate inferno and a stream of serenity
Measured into china cups and a sugar lump in each
To put into a smile and a twinkle of the eye
Do the world a favor and breathe between bamboo shoots and bowls of rice
While Time runs his hand over the strings on the guitar
And plays Life a love song
Time is not eternally handsome or young
Life is not always bearing silk and jewels
But the hourglass keeps flowing and love grows despite the looks and pearls
Arpeggios play slowly while dusk draws further away and it’s another day
I could hold your hand and run forever through lanes of cherry blossoms
Racing towards storms of crimson flora that from a hurricane would be shamed
Falling down as I open my heart and let them rest in memoirs
Whispering secrets and thoughts that take a lifetime to say
But a second to realize
Mysteries never really bothered me
If everything was known then why should I blink
To renew tears for sorrow and tears of laughter
I’d love to know most of it but I’ll be fine if I die without knowing it at all
As long as I know how it feels to live then I’ll be fine
Molecular Biology and Genetic evolution and all terms fade
From textbooks and minds
Awakening dreams and aspire to devote themselves to dew drops
Disciples of a flawed world
Defects are perfect to judge the worth
Of perfection
Inside endless worlds there lies just a simple dew drop
Prisms reflect giving ideas of complex
Intricate weavings and deeper then deep thoughts
Everything to you has to be a little more then less
But less is maybe exactly what your looking for
Despite riches and greed infiltrating peace
I have more wealth in a glitter of an star
Then in a stock bond
Laugh it up and respire
To expire and depart this life
With handfuls of luminous memories inside of balloons to help one float up
Into the Sky
I’m talking about the beautiful country of Burkina Faso
Formally known as the Republic of Upper Volta, the newcomer on the plateau
The new country with a charismatic and highly competent young leader
Capt. Ibrahim Traoré, everybody is talking about this intelligent brother
Who is well articulated in French, English and other languages
Brother Traoré embodies what all young men and women aspire to be:
Heroes of his or her Homeland, to help and rid themselves of the vestiges
Of inferiority, servitude and slavery. Yet, I’m still learning about this great country
I love Capt. Traoré’s eloquent speeches and gestures. I’m awesomely inspired
By his words and deeds. This brave brother means business. He’s not tired
To tell the truth, as we know, most leaders lie like frogs trying to speak
He tells it like it is and he indeed does good for Burkina Faso. He’s at his peak
This courageous military man can only go higher, to be exemplary
In Africa. He’s the model leader that Africa (the world) needs. He’s too busy
To travel to countries that have mastered the art of insulting and belittling
Young and modern leaders. The world needs new leaders who’re capable of singing
The righteous songs of freedom, liberty, justice, fairness and equality for all citizens
Brothers and sisters, I’m still learning about B. Faso, Mali, Niger and other regions
Or countries that are fighting for the pride and the future of their inhabitants
My best wishes go to countries that are helping us accomplish our missions
We are living in a world of abundance. No countries should be treated as inferior
Or poor. "Haiti is not a hole country". Yet, they failed to mention the exploitations
The rapes, the lies, the abuses and the lootings of our resources and the decapitations
They surely know how to manipulate, to neutralize, to explore and to divide to conquer
Oops, I had to exteriorate a bit. I want to wish our many countries a fruitful future
They’ll succeed because these new, incorruptible leaders care about us and they’re better.
P.S. This poem is dedicated to Late Pres.Thomas Sankara, our Haitian, African,
Black American Heroes, Poets and all our Brothers and Sisters.
Copyright © May 2025 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.