Long Baggage Poems
Long Baggage Poems. Below are the most popular long Baggage by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Baggage poems by poem length and keyword.
To Be Unrealized
by Odin Roark
By whose standards
you might ask.
The standard for the conscious,
the persons who regardless of career aspiration,
relationship passion,
past guilt baggage,
know that job,
partners,
acclaim,
power,
and celebrity,
are but controlling remnants
of an upbringing and the continued quest
of media brainwashing to score a rating coup d'état.
Void of true sentient identity,
immersed instead in the ubiquitous coating
of saccharin-infused cream on top delusions,
fantasies glamorize the duped,
the ignorant…
Believe it or not…
Mass populous wants more from life,
even though they continue to be self-exiled
in the “grovel syndrome” of survival.
Listen…
The cries of those who care,
Blast forth “Oh, for Christ sake, wake up!”
The answer?
Only a fool would offer a universal solution.
But…
Perhaps a nudge in the right direction
might be the revelatory awakening to thinking…
you know, that gift we are infused with,
the non-aggressive weapon seldom employed,
the empowerment to stop being controlled by others,
while you truly take the initiative to
set your own standards,
acquire your own answers,
exorcise some exhaustive introspection,
and a modicum of study into behavioral history.
Many would argue…
To be unrealized
is the individual’s own fault.
No one else’s.
Who of consciousness would disagree?
Tears of gory guilt
Run down my bark, a nectar
For the nightingale
No where to hide now
The sheer shame embraces me
Don't know what I know
Fears of warriors
In freeless tree forever...
Their eyes carved outside
Pupils follow me
Wherever I roam...you see?
Not a sparkling sea...
Embark me surreal
Feed me your sweat..your labor.......
Place my silver soul right there
The atmosphere bleeds
With the fear of ancestors
Eyes do shine - you're mine
The trees' irises
Project all shades of blue...green...
Let go of baggage
Your hues blend with theirs
Hues that are all but true
Throw off your loads... cares...
Arrow pierces heart
Strikes me that it gets chopped down
Into flames of...art...
Reality's demise
Ends here in this fantasy...
A wise world that sees
In vain, I weep green
The tears I shed is their sun
I welcome the moss
Foolishness of men -
That bogus gets left behind
Thieves get caught...they rot...
Grow upon me, weeds
Flowers and alike - come here...
Bushes sway...breeze strays
The morbid moon shines
Like the rest of the planets
Stars refuse to blink
As Hard as a rock,
I spiral to and fro...oh...
My mind's a black hole
They long for humans
To love them...they can't function
When they produce shame
Alas, neglected
Profuse remains buried...naught...
Passed away...infected
They say time heals
They say it will turn into a passing memory.
But instead, it's a festering wound.
Her body can barely keep up with the whiplash.
Holding on to years' worth of baggage that grows heavier with each passing year.
She was slowly suffocating
Every breath was a task.
It was time to put down what she carried.
It was time to start breathing for the first time since she could remember.
No longer held together with fake smiles and forced laughter.
No longer running until she was wasting away.
Healing took hitting rock bottom.
Healing took her blood, sweat, and tears.
Healing took years of her sitting, undoing knots.
Some days the past leaks in like a thick smoke that you have to wait for it to pass before continuing.
And other days it's just a thin mist, light enough to walk through.
Healing is not just minutes, hours, days, or months.
Healing is continuous.
The church is dark,
No lights just deep reverence,
Singing of love for our Saviors sacrifice.
Good Friday is here, we all come with our baggage, to visit with our Holy One, so many lives did he create, now we must give thou our love.
I kneel before HIM, my sins thou are on that cross He freely accepted, not worthly am I to look up, my tears of sadness like a rain shower, as I await my turn.
I rise up off my tired bruised knees, we walk as one to approach with love, I begin my walk to the Cross upon which Jesus died, my stride is a as slow motion for I’m edging so close, I fall towards my knees upon the foot of the cross, My Savior in which I embrace, my lips I kiss the cross on which He freely accepted.
My sins upon that wooden cross, my Father, my abba, much like a child upon her Fathers Knee, my Love for you is now upon your cross, thank you Jesus for my walk to your Cross….
A daughter of GOD am I, thou I am not perfect, i stumble, Thou will be there to lift hus little daughter back on her feet.
Twilight downs the sun as dreams appear on the screen of sleep
Slips into the subconscious realm and trips a few fuses in slumber
Adapts and clears clutter and narrates and alters the story in kind
Strips and clips a mind full of sentience like an ad-blocking app
When dreams slip into a magical edition it proofreads my soul
In magic Morpheus tenders to soft renditions and rehearses
A new dawn for sanity’s sake and rearranges bedlam in silence
Ties new meaning to fake news and spins alignments afresh
Compounds and rearranges while the curtain slowly descends
A dress rehearsal in night gown patiently waits for the curtain
A sacred orange globe dances with ripples dissected by clouds
Ultramarine parades on the fading horizon of tangerine canvas
As the gatekeeper confers with clairvoyants and hobbling goblins
The mermaids charter the voyage with sea gulls and dolphin as they
Tie holy knots onto the tapestry of fabrication and spirited truths
Sometimes my aspirations and recollections call for clean slates
When charcoal rules anthracite waves draped in sombre veils
Or polychrome splashes beg to hold on to the palette forever
Sleep brushes over karma and vagaries and tames with a stroke
Of restful fortune in infinite renditions of what the future might hold
A life line appears on the horizon anchoring a courageous flare
Regardless of whether my journey explores a secret underworld
Or ships critique onto the blatantly obvious faults in the vessel
Poseidon pumps up the raft as tears and regrets rock the boat
Blows caution to the wind and advises to hold on for dear life
Neptune challenges his counterpart and weighs for good measure
Yet Atlantis refuses to sink and Nirvana sweeps the ocean’s floor
Phoenix gathers soaked ashes while jetsam jumps into the current
When the night parades its blessing the sun resets a new dawn
The moon watches over assorted memories baggage and hope
19th April 2020
It was a good morning till she arrived,
the she devil that bore her only child,
occasion to visit us she contrived,
with an excuse of sorts that she compiled!
She heaved and puffed her way in to the house,
with baggage and beddings wrapped in her arm,
she flashed a smile! that mother of my spouse,
through her big wide mouth used for gossip swarm!
It was a better morning when she left,
peace at last when I thought she would not budge,
but she died the next day! .. I wept bereft,
how prejudiced and wrong was I to judge!
N/A
Written 13/02/2021
Sponsor Tania Kitchin
It was a good morning until.. contest
12 lines 10 syllables each.
abab cdcd efef rhyme pattern
Next is the one who was chosen to follow ex
Next has to work twice as hard in order for the relationship to work
Yes, bring more, have more, do more
Next has to pick up and put together the shattered pieces
Reflection causes the biggest problems with Next
Because the things you look for in Next
Are some of the same things that were done by yo ex
Yes, Next is a replica of yo ex
It is hard to be Next looking back to then, Next doesn't want to be then
Being then means remembering how and what was done back then and expecting it that way now
Next is the how you like me now version displayed to impress yo friends
and at the same time, make yo ex jealous
In yo relationship with Next, you bring thousands of dollars of Lui Vuitton luggage. Yes, unnecessary, excess baggage compliments of yo ex
Next definitely has to be strong, Next cannot be soft, cannot be weak
For Next has no idea of the job that's about to be taken on
A job requiring at least 10 years of experience
Sometimes Next gets less, that's what I said, Next gets cut short
There are times in relationships where the person (girl/guy) feels as though,
I did all this for so-in-so
I'm not doing all that next time, and here you come - Next
In certain situations, Next tends to struggle to understand the place where they belong. You may not be aware, but when it comes to the next relationship, both genders are so in need of growth
Rejection, bitterness, jealousy, hurt, disappointment, lies, deception
trust, love, respect, communication... all play a major part in growing
From a woman who inside is a lost, broken, damaged lil girl
trying to fill an emptiness through love
To a torn, hurt, shattered man with boy tendencies
trying to fill an emptiness through love
Next gets the barrier, the harden heart, the rejection
and somewhere in between... the love
You got Next???
Baggage claim -
What are you bringing or have brought into your relationship? Are you bringing checked bags or carry ons? Did you bring extra suitcases, or are you just bringing a personal item?
Let’s talk about it.
When a relationship ends, everyone tends to bring something from their previous relationship and 90 percent of the time they are not bringing nothing positive. They are definitely packing and bringing the negativity. Negativity that includes hurt, lies, betrayal, abuse, lack of trust, rejection, insecurities, fear, doubt, worry, and more.
Every time when you leave a relationship, you make sure you take all your “stuff” with you. Your stuff meaning, all the baggage you have endured, along with all the baggage you brought into the relationship.
But why? Tell me WHY? Why is it so important that we make sure to claim our baggage and bring it with us. The question is, do we really need to bring it? Do we really need to be reminded, reminded of the pain, hurt, lies and betrayal?
When traveling or catching a flight, we are usually bringing one or more of these 3 items, a luggage, a carry on, and or a personal item. And often we bring more than enough, so much so that we need a suitcase that we have to check in at baggage claim. Then at the end of our flight, we go down to baggage claim to retrieve our baggage.
Funny how in relationships, we do the same thing. Only thing is that this type of baggage is different from our clothes, shoes and makeup that we pack when flying.
Here, like I said, we gather our bags, carry ons and even our personal items that includes hurt, rejection, negativity, insecurities, and lies and bring them right along with us into our next relationship. So for instance, if you have been in 3 relationships, then you’ve got 3 times of baggage that you are bringing into your 4th relationship.
But how about you start fresh by moving on with just you?
Which means, don’t bring NO baggage with you into your next - next job, next relationship, next marriage, next home, next friendship, next city, next lifetime. Because truth be told, if you don’t pack no baggage, or bring No baggage, then you won’t have to go to baggage claim to claim NO baggage… Just saying.
I teeter on the brink of possibility.
The sun on the new horizon glistens
its rays on the undulating sea of change.
I gaze a while, drifting with a squawking gull,
or diving with a hunting cormorant -
lost in my imagination, caught in plausibility.
Sometimes a gust of wind unsettles my balance;
I totter into uncertainty, struggling to stand,
but you take my hand and steady me.
Now I only look ahead; no way back.
The chasm is inviting me to jump;
to take a leap of faith and ditch the doubt.
I place my baggage at my feet;
packages of responsibility and confusion
tucked in neatly and nestling with the past.
One last tug at the sleeve of my coat
as they make a last ditch attempt to restrain me,
and I have jumped - flying through the air, free.
As I land I see you there smiling and safe,
arms outreaching. The promise of the future beckons,
and looks inviting, exciting and full of hope.
Once I teetered on the brink of possibility
now it is a glistening reality. The sea is calm now.
And, as the sun sets on the horizon, I am home.
(note: to all my lovely friends who thought I was literally considering leaping into a chasm to
my death, I can assure that I am most certainly not!!! It is merely a metaphorocal chasm,
and I intend to stick around for quite a while yet. Heavens, I am just about to have a book
published, life is very good! Thanks so much for your concern though)
At Customs
Delayed fatigued grumpy and miserable there was I
yet another queue at Oliver Tambo on arrival another
Check scan body search and
mind games in my baggage
Damascus had been an unusual holiday destination
had firmly attached a couple of splinters just a bit of
Shrapnel trauma displacement
on the movie of my soul
Amena breathing the rubble with one foot detached
collateral damage digitalised toes in my camera
Home still smouldering siblings
Riham and Yaman with Allah now
Sayid coughs up the message of
how the planes came planes came
again and again planes came planes
then mother and father had vanished
Assel unable to talk it is difficult to
speak without jaw when brain leaks
upper jaw lower jaw who
cares who minds the statistic
So many images am I importing the
injustice depravation guilt shame
‘Not in my name’ nameless no
frame in the hierarchy of evil
Destruction of a sovereign nation and
the king makers in the global North West
export and import in trauma and transit
memories narrative existential angst
In the queue at the airport OR Tambo
and the tambourine major plays human
beings sacrificed on the altar of a simple
custom of exporting terror and malice
I am importing so much on my return
from Damascus yet choose the line
‘Nothing to declare’ but sorry I cannot do this
there is no time and you don’t want to know
So much pain so much anger on my mind…
but I have too much to declare