Long Banishing Poems
Long Banishing Poems. Below are the most popular long Banishing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Banishing poems by poem length and keyword.
A Bowl of Sadness
When I awoke he was gone, well,
not really gone but disappearing,
slowly, as the misty fog on the surface
of a mirror lake. His memory lingers
and sometimes returns, as does the
mist, but never stays. I missed him
less and less as time and loneliness
conspired to invent stories that could
be conjured up and smile about.
They failed and left me only the truth.
The truth, what truth is there in a
darkened room, a faded, fearful moment,
a never ending scar. What truth,
save the lie of truth denied, obscured,
hidden lest the truth destroy the true.
I grew to hate him, to despise his weakness,
his frailty, his fear, vowing never to be like
him. I built a calloused frame about myself,
banishing him to pained seclusion,
vowing never to depend on or befriend
any such as he. His wailing would awaken me
at times, rekindling the fear of darkened room,
and a moment ever fresh. At times I would
not shun him, would allow him rest upon
warm bed, grant him freedom from his
fear and avert my eyes from living’s
scar. Sometimes we sit together
and share a bowl of sadness.
John G. Lawless
Take me to church.
I'm here not to find God.
but to see the carcass of littered stink
in the altar men raised above God
where fiscal appraisal justifies spiritual enlightenment
Take me to church.
This isn't where God lives.
but an abode of jackals waiting to devour unsuspecting prey.
whose only offense is finding solace where it no longer exists
whose end will be in the belly of the beast
Take me to church.
I seek no refuge,
but to ride high on chariots of chaos
taking on the mantle dropped by previous prophets
banishing the demons that dwell in
Take me to church.
to the graveyard of silence
Let me give it a voice.
one that lasts forever
one so loud to the celestial
blowing the trumpet
Let there be rapture.
for I come now
I am the Messiah.
Lost in gravity’s pull, unleashing are iniquitous racing rot,
obscure entities rush through, connecting the dots
pilfering, extracting inventory, my intestines in knots
distant incense fumes a conscious canopy, petals wafting open-air,
I sense an antediluvian forest, aflame, circling there
Gazebo’s trapezoid holds captive, naked, probed and jarred
A sceptic- doubting Thomas vanishing, broken in shards
fragments of glass banishing, misfit mosaic alters as prey
Trembling colors my core stripping to bone greys,
stumbling over intercranial eddies, whispering “This is not an SOS fortess”
I lift my listless body from off the whitened Kalli bench rest,
mustering up brawn to leave this camouflaged spaceship
gaining is the exotic and final trip
escaping shades of jade and eschewing a repetitive rot
at last, rejoining the existing world’s ongoing ellipsis—living dot dot dot
Let me share with you a shrilling moment, one I dreaded most. 'Twas another beautiful summer day, and a visiting day, at the beach steps away, the Lake Shrine. The layout an inexplicable charm, monks in saffron and garnet tinted robes draping each body, had welcomed me. I must have been aligned with the stratospheric, a nefarious nebula inside the meditation gazebo, I thought inviting and safe. Past mistakes had laid heavy in this dome, this world a jungle, pent up nerves generated, nerves stretched taut. The line inked about intercranial eddies who seemed to have spoken to me, was most difficult to pen. As a child hungry for the opaque curtains of mystery to be drawn, in which 'lamplights strange to these eyes', within my late-night shadowy bedroom, appeared. As an adult I seek answers, therefore removing the line. I’ve always been entertained by mind's photograph, I reflect upon.
The Gazebo
I Am Anaya
2/22/26
Oblivion's needles and lines
camouflaging an ugly truth.
By using dope to escape life,
your addiction drains you of youth.
Drugs synthesize reality,
magically banishing pain.
And you live lies disguised as bliss,
seduced by the lure of cocaine.
On the road to self-destruction,
you tread upon the hearts of friends.
For, in worlds of your creation,
everyone hustles and pretends.
When highs morph into misery,
resistance drowns within your tears.
But you don't try to get away,
for hope's been denied you for years.
You're trapped in a web of deceit,
delusion's shackled to greed.
And you've strayed beyond salvation,
living only to feed your need.
(Quatrain)
8/10/2015
In the nights when the moon weaves its silver web over the gardens of my blossomed longing,
I await you, beloved, like a rain of stars in a desert of burning solitude,
Come with the balm of your love, divine nectar for my soul, thirsty for affection,
To embrace my being in your arms, an unyielding fortress against the storms of life.
Let your hands sculpt the contours of my body, a divine chisel on the marble of senses,
To wander together on the paths of the sky, two wandering stars in the constellation of eternal love,
Savoring your kiss like living water springing from the mysterious depths of our passion,
While the flame of longing consumes every trace of doubt, leaving only the pure mystery of love.
Our steps make the fragile bridge between reality and dream tremble, banishing the shadows of loneliness,
Passion entwines our souls in a cosmic dance of fulfillment and ecstasy,
And our bodies become purple flames, warming the cold universe with the ardor of our feelings,
I, an autumn leaf carried by the wind of your love, you, the evergreen tree of my hopes.
I paint your name with falling stars on the vault of eternity, the constellation of our happiness,
Enchained in the silken threads of your love, my soul spreads its wings toward infinity,
Savoring the scent of immortality in every kiss, in every embrace, in every whisper,
Treading over past regrets like a carpet of petals, toward a future illuminated by your presence.
Even when the clouds of doubt try to darken the sky of our passion,
I light the torch of hope in my heart, an unfailing beacon in the tumultuous ocean of life,
For our love is stronger than any storm, more enduring than any rock,
An eternal hymn sung by the violins of our souls tuned to the perfect harmony of the universe.
In the tapestry of time, we weave together the tapestries of our dreams and memories,
Turning every tear into a shining pearl, every smile into a ray of sunshine,
And from the shards of the past, we build the mosaic of a future where our love shines eternal,
Two hearts beating as one, two souls merged in the living, immortal flame of true love.
And so, how it feels to wait ?
Is it parallel to being in July
Or Is it parallel to being the last raindrop
Lingering all the while for it's turn
to fall, patter and burn
Or is it alike an eye holding mess with concern
Might be like the bird being in the middle of nowhere
With no concern to discern
Moments became memories, memories never flew
When, hopelessly hopeful month is in the queue
Unabashed it is to say that August pours in the void
And helps in banishing what's destroyed
But isn't the feeling upcoming parallel to being devoid?
Or might be alike the realization of becoming paranoid
In spite of those incanted words of the proficient necromancer
summoning the depth within you
Because of the chronicles you went through
And so, to know the truth is to know the lie
Cause it's more difficult to live than to die
To gaze through galaxy and reach the limpid is to know the spy
Cause what appears to be isn't the real color of the sky
Possession of wings doesn't mean you can fly
The wet too can be dry
Just like inhumane memory to which you can't say goodbye
Now, Alzheimer's is the solution
Cause Remembrance became malady
look at the dear tragedy, result of which is
A Poor atrocious rhapsody!
Power Of Virgin Snow
Teardrops gently flow in a scene painted on
canvas in my dream
Mourning the fate of once iridescent leaves
buried beneath a stream
Intent on banishing loneliness while hoping
good old Earth could bestow
In this wilderness revitalizing a forlorn spirit
the mystical power of virgin snow
9/7/2025
Aboard Vision of the Seas
Arise
Arise all you sleepers awake
Open your eyes for your souls sake
While the love of the world grows cold
Lord fill us with thy spirit to stand bold
While I am young but yet this world makes me feel old
You are the cornerstone of the construction
While I see many headed to destruction
Lord I stay focused on you
As you guide and pull me through
While keeping my mind free and clear
And banishing thy fear
In this evil world you relieve thy pain
And wipe away all trails of rain
I turn to you while you bring comfort and peace
For you have already defeated the beast
As you teach to watch out for others yeast
May your will be done here on earth
As we turn to you to receive new birth
While leaving the world delights
As our feet follow your light
Gliding swiftly eager to unite
I’m friends with my demons
because they were the only ones
who didn’t leave
when I fell apart quietly
and nobody noticed.
They sat with me
in the kind of silence
that makes your chest ache —
the silence you learn to live in
because asking for help
started to feel like begging.
They’ve seen me on the bathroom floor
at 3 a.m.,
hands shaking,
heart bruised from holding in
everything I didn’t have words for.
They didn’t comfort me.
They didn’t save me.
They just stayed —
and sometimes
that was enough.
I’ve tried to kill them off
with hope,
with routine,
with pretending I was fine.
But they always came back,
gentler than before,
like they knew
I wasn’t ready to let go
of the parts of me
that hurt the most.
So now we walk together.
Not as enemies.
Not as friends.
More like two tired souls
who’ve realised
they’re made of the same story.
And if you’re reading this
with a lump in your throat,
wondering why it feels familiar —
maybe it’s because
you’ve made peace
with your monsters too.
Maybe you’ve learned,
like I did,
that healing isn’t about
banishing the dark.
It’s about learning
to carry a light
that flickers
but never fully goes out.
In halls of learning, where young minds ignite,
A symphony of guidance, shining ever bright.
Not just the teacher with lessons planned,
But every soul contributes, with loving hand.
The janitor's care, a clean and welcoming space,
The lunch lady's smile, a warm and friendly face.
The principal's vision, a steady, guiding light,
Each plays a part, in shaping futures bright.
From bus driver's greeting, to librarian's lore,
Each interaction plants a seed to grow.
A tapestry of influence, woven with love,
Nurturing dreams, sent from up above.
They mend scraped knees, and listen to fears,
They celebrate triumphs, and wipe away tears.
A labor of love, though often unseen,
Their dedication profound, a vibrant, hopeful scene.
Sometimes thankless, yet they persevere,
With passion and purpose, banishing all fear.
For in each child's growth, a reward they find,
A future they build, with heart and with mind.
So let us acknowledge, with gratitude and praise,
These unsung heroes, in countless ways.
Let pride swell within them, for the work they embrace,
Shaping tomorrow's leaders, with love and with grace.
For they are the guardians, of dreams yet to bloom,
The architects of futures, dispelling all gloom.
In every child's success, their legacy resides,
Educators all, with hearts open wide.