Long Beg Poems
Long Beg Poems. Below are the most popular long Beg by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Beg poems by poem length and keyword.
They come in to gripe.
They come in to bounce, ideas off me.
I am trained to not give advice.
But I am trained for children, and I do not do as well with adults.
With children I can be patient, kind.
With children I can be flexible, pliable, considerate, extra attentive.
With adults I seem to lose my patience.
They should have figured it out by now. They are older right, seasoned?
They should know themselves.
But they do not.
They do not know what they like. They do not know what they think.
They cannot tell you how they feel.
Many have spent all of their lives, stuffing their feelings into a pie-eating contest.
Many have exercised their feelings out of themselves.
Some are more confused about what they want now than they
Were when they were children.
I have no patience with them.
Not realizing they have been tromped on, stomped on, smacked and beaten.
Until very little of the real me is left.
I concentrate on the children, not interested in these adults.
Unhelpful, unkind, and unconcerned.
Due to my own feelings of sheer annoyance.
Beg Steal Or Borrow...Live For Tomorrow
Metallic gray skies...the fledgling dies
Winter grieves...tainted leaves
Severed hand...barren land
Empty farm...sound alarm
Rotting hay...horses astray
Fractured horn...plough forlorn
Dried up stream...forsaken dream
Beg steal or borrow...live for tomorrow
06/29/2010
12:46 a.m.
Aboard cruise liner:
Explorer Of The Seas
Cabin 4179
God I beg you, bring me home in the end
Even though my anger, I can't control
Your love will help my sad broken life mend
Then your warmth and grace can embrace my soul
My demons have grown too strong to quiet
The beasts have turned my cold heart into stone
Relentlessly, through my soul they riot
Inside, I'm left tattered and all alone
Father, please save me from this damnation
My internal armor rusting away
I pray you will grant me my salvation
So my faith won't fade in the disarray
Unknowing what my fate may have in store
Your love I can not deny anymore
6/20/2017
As I beg your pardon over our poisoned dirt,
setting winds blow in their ways,
Taunting with a darkened choices worth;
Unsettling timid woes find my ear to chase.
Do I only want you to recognize a hardship
Over yours?
Lest missing your notice, it's among our costly blood the greater value finds your time in its place.
Even if beaten, meek, gentle and burnt,
is it all a guise to distract where the shared and shining limelight may lay?
I cannot find truth nor belief to abide by such a case to occur
Yet here unsure I remain,
Begging your pardon to endure
And to stay
As a lent ear, even if but to act as listening;
Posturing to feign
To become of the gathering I could not ever believe to be made
Is what I ask for an audience,
Your observance or
For merely a witness to a pain
That has humbled myself so harshly,
That to share would be to shame?
Again, oh - how it grows absurd,
I see my intent becoming misaligned within my aim.
Truly I beg your pardon,
Please avoid this inner conflict I display
To neglect the gift upon me you've poured,
I could not grant a greater thanks.
Among a sterile world bothered by irredeemable landscapes and sores, I concede today;
To stop poisoning the well that may offer the truest help
and our safest escape
Onwards and upwards,
There's a gift for you that with hope
I'll create
Outwards then forward,
To all, I offer all of me that you may take.
The world can never be mine
Except in what I can aid
Yet I continue to lay here
Another night
Of salty and cold cheeks
I am in pain
I cannot understand
Why
I want to write my emotions on
But tears have blurred my vision
My mouth is dry, my throat awkward
That music in the background, why so loud
With slow painful music
It’s cutting me
Find me a razor
Let me show my body what pain truly should feel as
I cried myself to sleep again
I am all out of yellow note paper
I’ve resulted to blue
Even that feels wrong
Is that my foundation I hear? Crackin’
Here we go again
Spare me, dear God, have mercy and spare me
I am close to numb now
Am I dead? I feel cold
It is not warm
Where’s the fire?
Those roaring flames
Even a stray dog chooses dignity over slavery,
but you — so-called African leaders —
have chosen puppetry.
The Western world laughs at your blindness,
a blindness born of greed and cowardice.
If they call you in Russia, you go.
If they call you in China, you go.
If they call you in America, you go.
Always summoned, never summoning.
Even as you feed the world,
you move like jesters,
with your bowls of shame extended.
They steal from you,
then hand you crumbs from your own harvest,
and you bow in gratitude.
That is why the world does not respect you.
At the United Nations, when you rise to speak,
your funders walk out —
for they know a fool has taken the podium.
You have failed to unite,
waiting for your enemies to gather you together.
Your banks, your schools, your armies,
funded and trained by outsiders.
How can progress grow in a soil watered with chains?
You chase breadcrumbs,
while the whole bread lies in your hands.
Is your mind as dark as your skin —
is that why you cannot think?
What magic lies in Europe,
what secret in China,
that Africa cannot forge herself?
Your own son, Ibrahim Traoré,
rises to fight for unity and dignity —
yet you turn against him,
because your masters whispered so.
Everywhere you go, you are an embarrassment.
Your people weep,
the world mocks you,
and your children will inherit only ashes.
What legacy will you leave?
That you stole from your own,
to gift the thieves of Europe?
That you wore suits and ties like kings,
but your minds were empty —
your thrones hollow?
Tell me,
how can the richest continent on earth
beg from the poor of Europe?
What name shall history give you?
Kings who beg.
And beggars who call themselves kings.
They are ignorant and playing with fire
They have lost the way
They think them as procurator
And no hopes are there
They are falling into the
Bay.
The heart of them has become invasive
And burning today. They are jealous, crude
In the era of kali; they are feeling the
Negative in their
Way.
My heart and soul has become depressed
To think of these blind
The turbulent atmosphere overwhelmed
My soul and the
Mind.
The are terrible and very much violent
They are as wild as hyena.
Destruction is their passion and
Deterioration is their dream and
Destination.
Oh my lord, please lit their heart
With your glorious divinity.
They are empty in humanity;
I would like to beg to you
Please, please, please, start your kind
Activity.
I ask for your help
I have never been too proud to beg
Beg your pardon
Beg for a morsel of your time
Time to write a different script
Time undertakes my logic
Logic has never been my strongest point
Logic lacks what I need
Need bounces off my equilibrium
Need feeds off yesterday's mistakes
Mistakes I repeat
Mistakes you never seemed to make
Make like a bird and fly away
Make your waves on a different ocean
Ocean line yourself out of here
Ocean spray your inconsistancies
Inconsistancies with a capital C
Inconsistancies I can't see
See me walk
See me run
Run past forward
Run further away
Away from the thing I was
Away from your simple
Simple pleasures
Simple mind
Mind playing tricks on me
Mind over your matter
Matter of facts I didn't understand
Matter converted to energy
Energy that cost too much
Energy we both wasted
Wasted on yesterday
Wasted on nothing
Nothing ever really lasts
Nothing is nothing but a whisper
Whisper insanity in my ear
Whisper until my mind erases you
You have consumed me for too long
You who drip from your empty
Empty cup
Empty promises
Promises I hung my hat on
Promises you never meant to keep
Keep away from me
Keep what I can't have
Have my dreams
Have a cup of my broken
Broken
Dreams
I read Debbie Guzzi's poem and thought I would give the form a try.
Gentle Earth, I beg of you -
Whisper to us the first sign of spring.
Annul this wintry despair
And a season of life anew, bring.
From the depths of Baja
Carry the warmth in upon a draft.
Poke the sunshine through grumbly clouds
And send it down as a gilded shaft.
Clothe the desert with the raiment
Of fleeting sheets of white rain.
Implore the wildflowers that they
Bestow upon us a fantastic display.
Help the button-face of the brittlebush
Peep over the dead, crumpled brush.
Bring forth the canyon penstemon.
Make the Mexican lime cactus flush.
With one quick stroke of rain
Paint the delicate creosote yellow.
Order the Engelmann’s cactus to raise
Their trumpets of fuchsia and blow.
Tempt forth the birds to sing - listen!
I beg, usher March in.
Jeremy Corbyn plots his agenda,
anti-monarch, a Royal ending.
He's only out to change the political system,
a possible route is through a second referendum,
as a second vote undoubtedly means the system doesn't work,
and he'll have a valid point in that the system needs a twerk.
So in our generations most pivotal moment,
when unity is never more important,
when politicians are needed to serve the public,
Corbyn's main priority's to create his dream Republic.
Harming us all, neglecting responsibility in a BREXIT solution,
creating more uncertainty, with hopes of it leading to revolution.
I condemn this man only out to cause disruption,
a second referendum is his traitorous suggestion,
take note, this is an act of political corruption,
not serving public needs or preserving our future,
out to please personal want, abusing his stature.
Proving he is only in politics, not for the people, but, for himself.
I beg of thee Labour, find a new party leader in someone else.