Long Begrudge Poems
Long Begrudge Poems. Below are the most popular long Begrudge by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Begrudge poems by poem length and keyword.
If they con the majority and all the world believes them
and you are the minority that witnessed them deceiving
they think that it justifies the error you believe in
that is dismissed as your mistake and is a thought for leaving
Expecting you to let it go as you’re alone and you’re a clown
telling everyone you know that you don’t know what’s going down
think you’ll follow others round and do as they do eat the ground
but a wolf wanders with freedom bowing down to no ones crown
when they begrudge you they misjudge too forgetting everything they ever knew
don’t let it bug you as their corrupt view overestimates what they can do
they’ve come to believe you are beneath
because that is the stupid view
see a weakness they think I’ll beat this
blind to any strength in you
You know when you have had your turn
at learning what their yet to learn
and though they act without concern
you’ve been there and know the burn
They aim at you when they see value
you don’t face what you do have too
but they’re desperate to attract you
believing they’ll win and you’ll lose
bringing misery to your mood
when finally they’ll feel approved
but you can see this pointless move
a worthless thing for you to do
with no motivation to pursue
the victory or the gratitude
watch them win they’ll be rude
watch them lose they’ll be crude
it won’t affect your attitude
they’re behind you out of view
Nestled in verdant woods on a hilly terrain,
The sequestered chapel stood, tranquil was the place
With a calm drowning the hubbub around
With blooming plants adorning the encircling space
Gently moved to that well protected chapel
Tip toeing through the arch entrance
Entered and knelt down before the holy altar
The serenity there overpowering all my sufferance
Inside was nothing of grandeur to arrest the eyes,
Save a simple crucifix hung on the wall,
And a statue of Mary and Joseph at the side
With empty wooden benches lying in the hall
As I stood in humility with folded hands,
Nothing did I see, but a gentle whisper heard,
Suffusing me with feelings, delicate and beatific
And within me a strange sensation stirred
A riot of colors and gorgeous spires emerged,
And legions of angels gently falling in line
I saw winged seraphs with bugles in hands,
Singing hymns on end in lovely notes divine
How long did I bury my (self) in that blissful state?
Or was it a moment when time refused to budge?
Before me, I saw a slice of paradise unveiled,
A scene even a heretic would begrudge.
In the stillness, the song of birds from surrounding woods,
Sifted down through the murmur of wafting wind
Pleasant was the sensation that replenished the soul
Deep it was fanning all anxieties away from the mind
Sucked to the fill, the peace that exuded.
Lay afloat in the joy that welled.
It was a feel far too deep for words.
More appeasing than all the riches of this world,
Like a child cuddled in sweet embrace,
I felt sheltered from all storms and gale.
Trapping that celestial feel, and wrapped in grace,
Came out from that quiet place, calm and hale
Into a busy boisterous world, with a wise spiritual insight
To be a never dying wellspring with resurgent waters of love
For many to drink to their fill and appease their thirst
And become a symbol of peace like an olive bearing dove
Placed First
12- December, 2021
Beatitude Rhyming Poem- Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Beata Augustin
Resubmitted for A Spiritual Wisdom Downloaded
Poetry Contest.
Sponsor - Unseeking Seeker
When at first I knew you were there
it was with a gentle nudge;
But soon you grew, and so did I,
with only my waistline to begrudge.
When you first moved it seemed to me
like the quiver of cool jello,
The flutter of fur, a butterfly wing
and I loved your touch so mellow.
But soon your movements grew more defined -
you kicked like a mule I said;
You wriggled like a worm then jumped like a frog.
"Are we sure this baby is human?" we guessed.
I felt your touch, as your father couldn't,
then knew your urge for life;
But, you voice to me, a secret hidden,
a joy to hear at the dawn of your life.
First poem entered to Poetry Soup 7/25/2018
Hate
Why must you carry the blackness of hate
Why do you find it so easy to belittle and berate
Anger is such a negative way to communicate
And all it does is create an avenue to separate
To spew a painful, despairingly hurtful word
To another human being can be so absurd
To demean another, his character slurred
While the dehumanizing acts are incurred
Why do you feel you have the right to judge
To let others live their lives, you begrudge
Your rage released with the slightest nudge
And all of your intolerance will never budge
We must learn to accept people whoever they are
From whenever and wherever both near and far
Racism and hatred can leave such a permanent scar
These traits, a learned process, an ugly repertoire
The humming bees and hummingbirds hang just above the dew
which sparkles through the hazy yon of shadows vastly few.
For lo, the sun peeks sleepily above the emerald east
as warbling birds announce to all, the Mayday breakfast feast.
At last it’s time to celebrate the annual awakening,
now won’t you please get out of bed, oh maiden of my Spring?
I beg you rise and take my arm, they will not save us plates
and down beside the entry stoop, a carriage for us waits!
I’ll not begrudge your makeup smears, nor your tangled hair,
if you’ll but cease this hibernation; you are not a bear!
Come now, free your frosty mind of winter’s chilly dream,
and in the cherry blossom rain, my youthful love redeem.
Alas, the fading carriage sounds. Great, now I’ll have to walk,
and on my way back up the hill...I’m buying you a clock.
4/18/15
Entry for On The First of May
When I think about my eyes…I am filled with adulation for like many of my body parts…they’re a marvel of creation.
Allowing me with just a turn of my head to see the world around me.
Opening my heart and mind to the beauty that surrounds me.
But when I look at you, however, I find there is a limit to what my eyes can see.
The same limitations, I imagine, your eyes have…when you look at me.
At the moment you and I meet…the instant we begin…I can see if you’re old or young, tall or short…I can see the color of our skin.
These things my eyes can see from up close or even from afar…but what my eyes are unable to see…is what makes you who you are.
What I see is the exterior, a semblance…a facade…I cannot see what religion you are…I can’t see if you even believe in God.
I can’t see what your parents were like, where you grew up, if you have enough food to eat.
I can’t see if you’re married, raising children by yourself, scraping by to make ends meet.
I cannot see the sexual preferences you were born with, if your brain work fast…or slow…I cannot see the experiences you’ve had in life or the gender you might be struggling to know.
My eyes can only see so much…because the last time that I checked…who you are is where all the things I can’t see intersect.
I wish there was a way to see how all these different part of you align…to view with a bit of clarity the way they intertwine.
If I did perhaps I’d be more accepting…perhaps I wouldn’t begrudge…perhaps if my eyes could see a little more…a little clearer…I’d be less likely to misjudge.
Perhaps this simple wish will, one day, come to be…until then I’ll try to remember there is so much more to you than what my eyes first see.
Drinking black coffee, looking at real people go past
Sitting on my usual seat, as they morph into drones
Pushing shopping trolleys, in a semi-focused trance
Always one step ahead, we occupy alternate time zones
All shapes and sizes, yet behaving in a hive mind
I’m an aloof intruder, detached from their trudge,
the coffee tastes good, much better than my guilt
These people are programmed, I do not begrudge
Still so many go past, inexorably they just won’t stop
With Invisible purpose, that can never be fulfilled,
The collective has left me behind, no I bailed out
Observing my past life, a sham pariah who lost the will
This procession is for me, a paranoid induced outcast
Paid for my coffee, the show was completely free
I’ve had my fill, back into the dreaded shopping mall
Will I be able to blend in, ever try hide a Baobab tree
By
David Kavanagh
While walking toward the bus stop today
A whirlwind tried to whisk me away
Where it would take me, it did not say
But I refused to budge
And then among the dust and debris
A willowy voice whispered to me
Why be afraid when you can be free?
Yet onward I did trudge
How can I be free when I am afraid
When safe and sure is where I’ve always stayed
When my heart is willing but my feet can’t be swayed
The brave ones I begrudge
Though I’d rather ride the wind than the bus
I can’t simply hop on a random gust
But a breath of smog or a breath of dust
Is an easy choice to judge
Give me a ticket to board the west wind
And I’ll ride it forever wherever it’s destined
So say your farewells, wish me the best and
I’ll just need a little nudge.
Alas, I see the proposed federal budget has hit the press.
I suppose its loaded with the usual absurd largesse!
Gleeful solons elbowin' others at the trough gittin' their share,
At the same time promisin' us the budget they will pare!
Seems that legislators think that cash flow is never-endin',
And just go on dreamin' up schemes for inane spendin'.
It has been said that you can't fight Capitol Hill alone,
So I'm joinin' in the fray, offerin' asinine proposals of my own!
I want a study to see, that if all the sponges were taken from the seas,
Would the water level rise or recede by some few degrees?
Millions could be spent to study flies as they soar on the level,
Then, how they suddenly land on the ceiling as quick as the devil!
'Twould be intriguin' to teach cassowaries and penguins how to fly.
To fund this, money from medicare could be diverted on the sly!
We need a million dollar pogo stick racin' track in my hometown.
Never mind that it would have irate taxpayers jumpin' up and down!
Now I don't mind payin' taxes and donatin' my fair share,
But I do mind how my money is spent, I do loudly declare!
Havin' proffered the above schemes, I may come to begrudge it.
Some politicos may read this and include them in next year's budget!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
I got out of bed
In the middle of the night
My time is not my own
I do the tasks
That are required of me
My own sleep I do disown.
From one task to another
I go from room to room
Making sure everything is alright
I’m doing my best
And often I get it wrong
But sometimes I get it right.
Full-time job
On top of that
The foundations are about to crack
I do my best
With what I have
No time to take a nap.
But at night
I take flight
And my mind visits distant lands
My heart breaks out
In artistic scraps
Which I write with my crippled hand.
I do not begrudge
My lot in life
It is what it is, I know
But my poems and muse
Keep my “feet” moving
Leading me on the path to home.