Long Audacity Poems
Long Audacity Poems. Below are the most popular long Audacity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Audacity poems by poem length and keyword.
We spend 7 hours a day 5 days a week stuck at a desk
The only thing i'm learning is how to obey
Grades??They meant nothing
Grades are…
How long can you sit still
How well can you remember
How compliant you can be
Cause god forbid we have a imagination
God forbid we need to move
God forbid we think different
Why do we continue to do this starting at age 5
Why do we not see the struggle not coming from grades but from people
Not all of us can learn the same way you teach
When you put a kid through all this stress and don't realize
We are struggling
We are killing ourselves because we are under too much pressure
We cry behind closed doors because we want to quit
We think we are the problem the kids aren't the problems its the system
So stop blaming us for it
Stop allowing it to happen
We are living our one life
Let us have fun
Let us be outside
Let me have a choice in my own life
Let us learn things we want
Let our voices be heard
How oblivious do you all have to be to not notice
How anxious we are
How depressed we are getting
How un prepared we are for the “real world”
How do you live with yourself
How do you sleep at night
Because we aren't
WE are doing the homework you assigned
We are helping around the house
We are caring for siblings
We are working jobs to help support our family
Then we go to school and you have the audacity to call us
Lazy, stupid, forgetful
Well we aren't. We are
Creative, caring, courageous, strong
But may i say thanks
Thanks for all the sleepless nights
Thanks for the stress of passing a stupid state test
Thanks for teaching me to trust no one
Thanks for the self esteem issues
Thanks for the years wasted for nothing
Thank you School
A peregrine falcon masters the sky
its wings majestically arched with flair
soaring with the elements eye to eye.
In a flurry of speed, it flashes by
serenely aloof, untethered and rare
a peregrine falcon masters the sky.
Sunlight gilds feathers as soft as a sigh
and flickering flecks ignite in the air
soaring with the elements eye to eye.
Naturally nimble, graceful, and spry,
inspiring both audacity and dare
a peregrine falcon masters the sky.
Riding an invisible thermal high
it lifts me until suddenly I’m there
soaring with the elements eye to eye.
Like poetry in motion, wingtips fly
and awed by its beauty, I can but stare.
Soaring with the elements eye to eye,
a peregrine falcon masters the sky.
(Villanelle)
3/7/2015
The acting soul in the cosmic drama existence,
define place in personal defeat and excellence.
Accepting the authors entire purpose role,
superimposed receiving upon its own.
Character and conduct by choices shored,
in challenges and ultimate reward.
These actors with soul in peculiar dignity,
principle cosmos to adjust legitimately.
The appropriated environment of precise,
like tones in harmony become concise.
Utterance in determined capacity,
individual notes in appropriate audacity.
The voice towards the total harmony,
singing out life through it all be.
Resultant of all in one sound harmonic sphere,
lesser sounds in soul accept as clear.
Worth of whole in cosmic association,
the body in all as divine appreciation.
Love given in nature to affect the bond of union,
improvised soul to soul dominion.
Reformed character and feeble hope surprise,
the extended soul as loving conductor to emphasize.
Escape: Tribute to George Oliver
"People can't fly when they're backed into a corner." -Tami Longaberger
Centenarian, I can only imagine
What you were thinking
When you boarded your wheelchair,
Headed out the door of the Ewing Wing,
And took the downhill runway.
Surely you meant to take flight-
Bystanders who saw that you had left your Rocking chair
Could only gape in awe at your audacity of hope.
The California Highway Patrol,
Noting that you forgot to fasten your seatbelt,
Rushed in where the federal aviation commission could not.
The CHP took you back to John C Fremont
And bound you to earth for the few days
you had left.
Trapped, we often get our wings late.
My friend, I can only assume, that you,
Despite the new alarm on the door of the Ewing wing,
Are flying high above us
No man should know unbearable grief,
and carry with him it's uneasy burden;
and regret could be as heavy as that,
not to have accomplished much before his death:
wouldn't a loving father be proud of his only son?
But mine followed his own greed and destruction....
No man should refuse to multiply his off-spring,
pondering over the concept of making mistakes:
as his insanely-infatuated and uncaring dad did;
this is a crude rejection of creating another human life,
wondering if he'll take the same gruesome path and constantly err!
Look! I could stop this life anytime, but my inner faith is much stronger!
God gave me life and I cherish its sanctification,
and only He can take it: if I rebel against His intention;
so fragile as a butterfly, and yet unbreakable as a rock
is my purposeful existence that I sublimely exalt
through my divine and unpretentious ways!
And would it suddenly end, my acceptance
would be certainly approved by my dignified ways!
Life free from me, and let fate be fulfilled;
and what remorse will be felt, if not the guilt of having loved less?
I exercise fairness and don't expect an equal amount of kindness,
whatever I give...it is genuine and never cold;
they can accuse me of being too harsh and judgmental,
and which lessons could I teach without wisdom?
Do I have the audacity to say what others fear to make known?
Is it hurt, shame, embitterment, hatred or even contention
that make a decent man cry out in despair to allow the act of forgiveness...
when accosting the final hour, which offers nothing but death?
No man should know unbearable grief as an unfair token of abstinence;
the evil doer always acts on meanness, not on humaneness!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Nomadic Treasure
by Odin Roark
A wise man told me
The Essence tuning fork
Is never idle
It is always resonating
As in…
Surviving one’s homeless spirit
One may tune in audacity for a roof
Direct eyes to dine on tomorrow
When eyes no long see
Listen
When ears no longer hear
Think
When no thought comes
Allow
Resonance lingers
For when one’s father no longer lives
Compassion becoming father
When mother passes on
Embracing Order is natural
When no friends come near
Quiet assumes companion
When one’s home is no more
Silence becomes shelter
And so…
I now reside somewhere nameless
Responding not to supernatural influence
My tongue leads its own choir
Allowing no such fortune
Visit my park bench
Need remains but a tactic
Detachment my strategy
My Means have discovered the Within
Where nothing and everything
Becomes my destiny
Anonymity proving divine
Death but treasure found
He also taught me
When your lover has gone
Sleep invites your courting
For tomorrow’s awakening
Awaits slumbering shadows
Primed to detach into the light
Where begins anew
The tuning of the fork
This is the flag that shall never fall,
a flag woven with stars...blue as the widest ocean,
and red as the blood sustaining my heartbeat evermore;
empires rise and fall, this one will endure furthermore,
and under the watchful eyes of the Almighty,
I foresee a renewed prosperity, not calamity!
They tried to tear it down and strip it of all its glory,
the mighty towers crumbled down and turned into toxic dust,
and still that flag was raised on the piles of debris
by the brazen firefighters of the greatest city;
and while this city breathed death everywhere...imagining the worst,
the Good Samatarians pulled many out of the infernal ruins!
Be proud, Americans for your bravery is long remembered,
and you, hard-working folks, who came from other countries to lead a better life,
loyalty and fortitude are the virtues to fight the dismayed and arrogant enemy;
all join in to sing liberty's anthem...God, our Lord, is listening!
Be assured that your flag shall never fall, hold it up with all your audacity;
and nobody can ever take it down or defile it by burning it with fire!
Wave, O brave Americans, the flag that shall never fall,
I am the foreigner who has praised its peaceful quest from the very beginning,
and will for endless ages through my poetic voice, which will never be silenced or die!
Let me sing with you, O fellow Americans, and share your fervent pride;
I will pray for those blessings that are a joy to be received,
so that your country remains safe and your flag shall never fall!
My poem is dedicated to the victims and survivors of the September 11 attack on America
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Mortal worlds are no place for spirits like me to dwell; I am not meant for them; I have always been…a different soul. The womb begets many beings; I am not all that different from you, but, I recognize my sisters and brothers. Despite fur, feathers and fins; all come from the same soul and womb; God did not create Earth to give birth to idiots! But, man insists on acting like one by denying his own siblings, because of fur, feathers and fins.
Sentience is not a right to destroy other lives, but, most, seem to believe that it is. In less than two centuries; man has destroyed most of the Earth and her children; yet Man has the audacity to call his siblings…”dumb animals”! Fur, feathers and fins never did so much damage to their Mother’s body; as mankind has done. I have to ask…who really are the “dumb animals” on the planet?
I am not like the others; I have always known that all animals have souls.
Mortal worlds are a place of persecution for me as, I watch my siblings’ abuse and slaughter one another; to those in denial, it’s time you awoke!
For entry in poetry contest: "Denial"
PART 3
etc., etc., etc., and the negativity just keeps steam rollering on and on, it just keeps on coming and coming, like giant waves crashing upon a serine beach, tearing it apart and depositing it’s garbage, littering what is beautiful with an ugliness that is unbefitting, yet the wellspring of understanding, desire, hope seems to be endless in it’s patience as each new day brings with it, the same old, same old as new cracks in my persona – she perceives, judges, creates and makes my reality – are put down, belittled, criticized as she, in her audacity, believes, perceives
that her creations are my realities .
These are the materials from which I should fashion the keys – if so chosen – into a solid mass, keys that would open ?,
should open the prison, the cage doors in order to set my soul, my spirit, my life free. Why do I let the essence of these potential keys come at me with such force, slapping me in the face all the time, punching me in the heart with such force it breaks in two, kicking me in the ass ?
Image of Clock Time Second provided by Pixabay
Just A Second Of Your Time
I suspend clung to optimism
apprehend channeled coupled
the uplift swing of the pendulum
exhilarated wholeness, subtle
for complete I, a task begun
trice's, thinks, terms, tic-tocks
of spring dawn unto wintry dusk
calendar masters a world runs
I am off, never lost yet must
nefarious filters ghastly whims
if finding myself out on my limbs
hourglass greets my gold dust
as serenity achieve the ones
each to their specific ambition
no audacity or deciphering dons
an ephemeral interest position
I sensed a serpentine easily
nonetheless, ensure measures
downing dawns a grin treasured
close up a swung ped breezily
a sec ends, repeat escapism
2021 May 26
*1st Place*
ALL YOURS (JUN 3)
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2021 June 02
*8th Place*
Time
~~Chantelle Anne Cooke: Judged 2021 May 27