Long Bombarded Poems
Long Bombarded Poems. Below are the most popular long Bombarded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bombarded poems by poem length and keyword.
When I sit and watch TV I am bombarded by perfection…
Everybody has bright white teeth and a silky smooth complexion.
They live in enormous houses in the country or by the shore
all decorated by the finest designers in luxurious decors.
They drive cars with foreign names meant to thrill, amaze…astound
and when not behind the wheel they have a chauffeur who drives them all around.
But when the show is over I look around and always smile at what I see
knowing my life does not quite match the one on my TV
When I look into my mirror I often have to pause
because the body and complexion I see…have their share of flaws..
The house Deborah and I live in has never given us reason to complain
even though the laundry room remains unfinished and our street floods in the rain.
Our car is nice but is not the kind that will easily astound…
and there is no chauffeur waiting…who will drive us both around…
But I’ve come to realize something about perfection as I’ve grown a little older
Perfection, a lot like beauty, lies in the eyes of the beholder.
Yesterday we had lunch with some of our grandchildren and once again I was shown
despite its imperfections…how splendid my life has grown.
Like all families we’ve had our ups and downs…
as our family constantly transforms…
But together we have ridden those highs and weathered every storm.
For the most part everyone in our family is happy
For the most part we are healthy…
As I sat with our grandchildren yesterday I had to wonder…
How did I get so wealthy?
My life might not be TV perfect…but….I am happy to admit
my real world life is perfect…at least from where I sit.
Colored Memories Poetry Contest Sponsor: Craig Cornish Date: 8-28-2018
Some memories are pink, others are yellow. Some big as mountains, others petite, and gentle.
The harsh ones that hurt us the most are the ones that enter our minds when we are sad or mad.
These are best put into an imaginary box, tied with a variety of colored bows, and shoved down a river.
Visualizing this has helped some people to not experience their colors so hard. Be sure and notice the
Sun on your face, the happy singing birds, the chirping of happiness, and the calm you feel when the package disappears from your view, never to be picked up or examined again.
This will not work for everyone, but it might work for you.
Obviously, some memories have colored our souls for the rest of our lives – both good memories and bad ones.
If your grandma’s bedroom was lavender, and that is where you were comforted when you had croup,
With Vicks, or warm oatmeal, laced with brown sugar, bombarded by love, lavender might be your happy color, until something mean comes along in the form of lavender which changes things.
Try not to be mean, as you can make or break other people’s colors.
Colored Memories Poetry Contest Sponsor: Craig Cornish Date: 8-28-2018
Devoted to those poor lost souls.
I'm bombarded with a deafening silence
As I sit here alone in my room
Thinking of how my life might have been
Encased in this dark dismal tomb
I once had it all or so I had thought
I walked with a confident air
But fate intervened and changed everything
I'm now travelling this road of despair
My closest friend is this bottle of whiskey
The relief I get from the pain
Of a lifetime of utter sadness and sorrow
When I dream we're together again
If only my words could convince you my love
But they just seem so hollow and trite
It appears so hopelessly futile to me
As I lay awake lamenting each night
So I guess I'll go back to my bottle of booze
And the only true friend I've had
I'll think of how things might have been
Bombarded by thoughts so sad
© Jack Ellison 2013
Last night I got a visit from a historical figure
I couldn’t believe my eyes; I was humbled, I
thought I was hallucinating, was it a transfigure?
Many questions bombarded my mind but why
dominated each question, I was confused;
“ Don't stand there mystified; time ticks by.”
How were you able to stand when hate infused?
“ I was mandated to walk in a thing called love,”
Didn't that cause you to get used and abused?
“ Yes, but my actions gave folks hope in spite of,
all of the negativity that dominated their minds;
positivity sparks change; it may also shove.”
Your legacy remains; however, some are blind
“ That's true; I came because you're woke.”
Pardon me, may I somehow get reassigned?
“ You may decline; you're chosen, I must invoke,
my mantle is already in place for you to wear.”
Chosen? I didn't ask to be; please don't provoke.
“ I shall not; I came so that you will be aware
of things that stir the depths of your soul.”
We didn't talk much, was your visit to scare?
“ I said what was most important; my only goal.”
Can I take some time to process somehow?
“ Time isn't guaranteed; you have no control.”
This is too much for me; it seems like a vow
“ It is; I must leave you now; goodbye,
make a wise choice; put your hand to the plow.”
Wait, I need more time; everything is so unclear
“ You’ll be fine, just be brave and have no fear.”
The watchers eyes focus within silence
bombarded by messages of pure malice
many suffer so much hate towards an individuals choice
everyone with deep vision can see these festering souls
Those whom support the culture of death no longer hide
openly denouncing God's right under Divine law
When push comes to shove hellbent
certain agendas have highlighted uncivilised heathens
a dark side underneath your skin is clearly exposed
Manipulating the truth has only one verdict
when examined properly bringing justice to this court
and the relationship between lies
In the face of an honest opinion warlike beggars cry victim
no amount of evidence will sway these possessed bodies
They are so filled with pride and baseless egos
to acknowledge the twist in their own tongue to explain
Judging others with a cold heart separates them as wolves
with such bitterness showing teeth stalking every word howls
In that which does not suit their ill agenda behind a mask
trampling on the innocent with racist views
masked as caring with sweet stings a scorpion
Loveless bullies self ordained bigots uneducated liars
twist the very meaning of life backwards
where the sick are incurable they are never untreatable
there the blind have already opened their eyes and can see
Should 21st Century poetry
For the new minds of a culturally bombarded generation
Be limited from 3 to 7 lines?
Before you answer
To me personally, even though to answer, makes my Heart aches
I like reading poetry built around subtlety
Concealed layers or secretive depths
Relatable interchangeable meanings
Powerful raw stuff that sometimes leaves your eyes wet
Unearthed within deciphering their carefully crafted imagery or subtext
3 to 7 lines of reading, might sound like heaven, but I'm old school
Give me Lord Byron
Shelley or Keats
But I guess
Like an Ode to a Nightingale
Maybe that's the beauty of poetry as She walks in Beauty
And like To a Skylark
It must sing
So I can only hope new generations enjoy poetry, so it continues to thrive and still live
Within whichever form, and exciting tales that will continue to make their own hearts beat
With all it can give
But for me
Reading deep poetry
Feels like sitting briefly, metaphorically, underneath a Cherry Blossom Tree
Enjoying a delicious drop of spiritual tranquility
Are you too, old school and what emotional fluctuations resonate with you?
Are you a three to seven or more like:
Eleven or more is heaven
Reader or writer
Who enjoys late all-nighters
(C) Copyright John Duffy
Scientific mission into outer space, Reed Richards his best friend
Ben Grimm,
Susan "Sue" Storm and her brother Johnny Storm
Upon leaving the earth in a rocket ship
Got caught up in a violent cosmic space storm
Rays bombarded their bodies
They became cosmically transformed
Coming back to earth, begin genetically rebirth into
Mister Fantastic / Reed Richards who can stretch his body into incredible lengths and shapes;
Stretch-Stretch-Stretch-Stretch
A monstrous Thing Ben Grimm who possesses tremendous superhuman strength, durability and endurance due to his stone-like flesh
It's clobbering time
the Invisible Woman Susan Storm body turned into rendering herself you can't see me invisible invisible invisible
also able project powerful invisible force fields blast projectiles;
the Human Torch Johnny Storm who can generate flames, surround himself with them and fly;
flame on- flame on-flame on
11/15/23
For Fantastic Four Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
We as the subject, look at any object,
noticing space that separates us is still,
the void of no-thingness mind cannot bisect,
omnipresent yet exercising no will,
so what space really is, we introspect,
reflecting in silence, from soul’s window sill.
In staid stillness we sense our presence expand,
then truth of space we begin to understand.
Melding with the void, concepts are discarded,
wherein present as formless awareness pure,
the form we ensoul, is by bliss bombarded,
whence earth life tests then, we easily endure
and with no attachments left to be guarded,
softened soul presence in time becomes demure,
whereupon flickers in space are by us seen,
piercing through its pores, deep wisdom we so glean.
God’s light that lights all lights, enlivens space too,
signalling that though it holds us in its womb,
it also depends on God’s pulse to renew,
that as all life forms in it, with aplomb zoom,
it is silence alone that offers a clue
to truth of space, as ignorance we deplume.
Ceasing to weigh and size, though we vaporise,
who in truth God is, we’re yet to realise.
Penalty, Power, Presence
Reading God’ Word, revealed to me
I was under The PENALTY of sin
But how to atone for this injustice
I didn’t know where to begin
By accepting Christ, I was forgiven
Of sins PENALTY from the past
Atonement was made in my behalf
All my sins, on Him were cast
As I began to walk with Him
I found my way to be inferior
Faults and failures bombarded me
Only His way, was superior
Romans six, fourteen declares
There is POWER to overcome
Sins of the flesh, that still prevail
Until our earthly race is done
There will come a time when I will go
To be forever by His side
There, throughout eternity
This PRESENCE, will forever abide
PENALTY, POWER and PRESENCE
The three phases of God’s plan
Salvation from sins of all mankind
Ever since eternity began
By: Colan Hiatt = 2026
He is young, excited, thrilled, with his clipboard and new almost-position.
His own idea, he wants to be in charge of the focus room, a place for out-of-control children
during the school day.
He is full of glossy ideas
About how terrific it will be for the misbehaving children,
And for him, as he can carry around the clipboard and he will have a title.
Under his guidance, these children will play chess, and board games, and they will laugh and sing
While their classmates, who are behaving, do not play, instead spend their well-behaved time,
listening to a teacher ramble on about math, something most of them believe they will never use.
In case you did not understand, this means that the child who wings a water bottle at a teacher,
And the child who makes the class amazingly difficult for all of the others,
Will get rewarded by going to the Focus Room to watch a movie, eat popcorn, and play
with the coach while the others are bombarded with math and science, and other boring stuff.
You can use the focus room, he told me.
Why would I want to? I asked. I have my own room.
Because we are making it nice with a cushy couch, bean bag chairs, and a movie theater,
With a popcorn making machine, he answered.
His great idea.
I do not know about you,
But as I child, I would
Have never left the
Focus Room for math or science or any of the other boring stuff I knew I would never use.
I did not say a word, not wanting to spoil his great idea.