Long Break off Poems
Long Break off Poems. Below are the most popular long Break off by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Break off poems by poem length and keyword.
There are seven despicable sins each one
of us willingly or unwillingly commits daily;
I disclaim six, but I willl claim one openly:
it's the irrepressible anger raging inside.
There was a big trauma in my early childhood:
that memory was stored, but cannot be retrieved;
I blame dad for the love he didn't give to his child...
remembering hurts indefinitely, forgetting is hard.
For years, I carried this secret so ashamed to reveal,
mother saw the depth and dimension of everything;
she lifted all the weight I was incapable of carrying,
but my cry wanted to escape and break off the seal.
If I am guilty of this sin, God will not punish me for it;
His sympathy for the ones who weep is forgiveness,
but those inflicting pain won't escape His judgment.
Lord, end at once this anger that brings on illness.
Written on 1/24/2016
FREEDOM TO FLY
In this time that moves so quickly
Old age will find me fast
So i must hide for a brief moment
Beneath warm vellum sheets
I must express myself in bitty lines
For who has the time, and there is
So much to see and learn - i burn
Beneath the all-seeing internet “I’s”
my fingers are bruised
from all the verses tapping
hopelessly brittle
my nails break off
oh but what fun to head for the sun
and
the
moon
and
stars
=O=
swinging happily off trees
my mouth shaped like the tire that sends me
5/28/2017
Old age and freedom
Being older than I once was, inevitably places have changed,
yet where I was born now looks like an alien city to me,
it’s now a tourist destination for the ever rootless.
Back then people were dangerous yet much kinder.
Now here in my corner of no-place-much, faces
float in and out speaking a language that means less to me
the more I hear it.
We once carried books around, we loaded cars and pushbikes
with travel books and the poetry of adventurers.
We once dared to be piratical.
Of course the young were always dumb, and the more educated
they got the dumber we all got. The old have
always talked like this, our handbrakes are looser,
thoughts slip backwards downhill, yet we must speak
occasionally about the puerile encroachments
the cheapening of what was once hard won.
The land I now inhabit gave me a passport, and an address.
I recognize sometimes who I was and where I went,
however only in antiquarian maps once crossed.
Maybe I am too young to forget, it will probably get
better as I age. Besides vapid banality
tends to grow on you bit by bit.
It was just another campfire the old couple sat around…listening to the crackling of the wood…watching the flames push off the ground
Watching as sparks break off from the fire to be free…to fly…to soar…just another campfire…like so many campfires they've sat around before.
At this campfire it was just the two of them…in the silence of the night…snuggled next to one another…faces illuminated by the light.
If you were blessed to be nearby…and watching for a while
you’d have seen them close their eyes…
you’d have seen them laugh and smile.
You’d have seen how just another campfire has the ability to transcend...into memories of other campfires…with family and friends
If you’d have been inside their minds…you’d see them as children in all their glories…you’d see them toasting marshmallows…feeling the warmth…telling stories.
You’d see them with their own family…you’d watch the sweet togetherness a campfire brings…before life and time and growing up…chances everything.
You’d sit in wonder around this campfire…realizing why they love it so…knowing it is more than how the flames shoot up and oscillate to and fro.
You’’d see it’s not as just another campfire…but a campfire so boundless and vast…it has a way of connecting…through its flames…to all their campfires of the past.
In my younger years
I searched and I searched
To find
To hold
Just a small piece
A minuscule piece of happy
Other people
Smiled and laughed
They seemed to be holding large chunks
I looked at them with awe
If only
A small piece
Even a minuscule piece
Could break off
I would pick it up
Hide it away
Cherish it
Bask in it's luminosity
As the years passed
I found more and more
Small pieces at first
Melted into liquid to quench my thirst
Me and happy began to burst
The joy within me poured into a tray
I baked it in an oven
It became like clay
Little pieces I could give away
All colored and glazed
Like sunlight on display
The pieces I then scattered near and far
Perhaps some, have landed where you are
Each piece of happy a work of art
The recycled bits of my illuminated heart
Like magic more happy returned to me
I stacked it high for all to see
Come join
This happy is yours for free
Each piece formed
Into a golden key
Unlocking the people
We are meant to be
So now I walk down happy street
I feel the joy beneath my feet
It's everywhere
I love its heat
Sometimes a piece of sad is found
I pick it up
That's okay
I do not keep it
I throw it away
LET THE CHIPS FALL WHERE THEY MAY
You have come to the altar, for remorse, forgiveness and peace;
Now before you can even open your eyes and get up off your feet;
You must find the inter praise, solemn peace; (solemn peace)
How sweet, such a sweet, sweet release…
Jesus says come my child come unto my bosom and rest;
Bring me your all, your galls of unhappiness, guilt’s and woes;
Remembering my child that you are mine and mines alone;
I will place your cares and troubles on my throne; (on the throne)
Confess your faults and your sacrifice;
Don’t even think twice, wither it being especially cruel meaning full or nice;
Take your hands off your hips, let the chips fall where they may;
And may the chips break off;
For all your burdens I’ve taken, to the cross;
Jesus says, you wear your feelings on your shoulders;
You are standing yet in a blaze of fire but yet you are colder;
Feelings just full of emotions with a chip on your shoulder;
How sweet, such a sweet, sweet release;
Don’t even think twice;
Confess your faults and your sacrifice;
Wither it being especially cruel meaning full or nice;
Take your hands off your hips;
Let the chips fall where they may;
And may the chips break off;
For all your burdens I’ve taken to the cross;
Again I do say take your hands off your hips;
Let the chips fall where they may;
And may the chips break off;
For all your burdens I’ve taken to the cross;
No matter what you or the world may, say
Let the chips fall where they may;
2/8/10
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2010, 2018©
Arranged music by Innocent Nikiema
from Anthology " "Know, I Am Not Innocent"
To hell with them! I never think of them
I forget they exist, until I spot them
Then I get mad!
Oh yes, I loathe them so, as much as I do roaches
I loathe them so much I feel like screaming
I wish I could urinate colonies of them off a log just for kicks
I never cared about their infinite diligence
They don't work for me anyway
And they sure don't work with me
I don't care that they carry off crumbs
That break off my bread. They continually invade
My home, overstaying their welcome.
They invade my pantry to suck honey and sugar
They snake across my countertop when they smell the aroma of spilt coffee
I always spray them dead, but they eventually come back two-fold!
I hate that they're too tiny to see from a distance
I take pleasure in crushing them under my thumb
Crawl far out of sight, you unsightly irritants!
And please, stop coming back for sweets!....
A Rant Poetry Contest/Winner(9th Place)
Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton
Date written and posted: 08/30/2016
I am a dare-dreamer, a mask wearer
a soul bare-r (not always my own); a word-weaver.
I pull thoughts like strings. Strings of cobwebs,
cirrus, frayed dungarees, threadbare memories.
I warp and weft strings of thoughts into poems.
Sometimes I get caught in knots—
I cut myself loose of those naughty strings.
I hold kite strings. Oh and rainbows strings.
They connect my soles to realms of my soul.
At times, I lose sight of kites in the gale.
Was I irresponsible with responsibility for strings?
I think, “thoughts”, should get lost in wind and clouds
to find the eye-of-the-storm—where I rescue
kites and make a poetry page my stage
and arena. I twine strings into heavyweight rope.
Fasten it to four corners of a contest page. I enter,
incognito, with Apollo imagery and Dionysus metaphor;
a masked prize-fighter filled with creative angst.
I grin for wins in poesy masquerade parades.
When I fail, strings break off of my drama mask.
Revealed but unrecognized, am I a fractured rainbow?
My inner balcony critic reprimands:
“sunlight through raindrops must be flawless
to create flawless strings of prismatic color”! Alas,
lack of refraction leaves words white; non-prismatic.
I restring tragedy mask; ego sphere of a versateer.
I create poetry because I love to pluck things;
harp strings and heartstrings…
If I no longer make readers cry, will pen cred be lost?
Don’t think I won’t pluck nightshade petals, fly’s wings
and cello strings to make you feel my tormentia!
I’ll quiver lips of lost-in-love verse. Coax your soul
to sip pale ale of sorrow, as strawberry scent
scalds your skin. I’m not unhappy to gratify your senses.
I loop maverick string, whirl it and throw—
lasso a funhouse mirror; rein it in.
Imagination stilt-dances in looney-glass gaze.
I use muse strings to hang mirrors and ask;
who’s the puppeteer and who’s the puppet—
poet or reader?
Do you still hurt and cry
become overwhelmed by a sigh
Are you pining for the past
perhaps life’s going too fast
Want to get swept off your feet
feel your heart skip a beat
Fall in love once more
open another painful door
Do you miss being single
want to meet friends, and mingle
Would you like to be with child
or a teenager going wild
Is death occupying your mind
maybe your lost, or confined
Do you spend all day in bed
are there voices in your head
Tell me please! let’s work it out
I can exorcise your doubt
Just then!! the mirror replies
it’s best, we break off all ties
By
David Kavanagh
01/20/23
Dear Cupid,
I really wish you had a heart (too),
For then I'd sink your arrow in it,
Break one half off and walk away,
Leaving the shard nestling halfway through,
So you know the pain of a broken arrow.
Lovers beware of Cupid's arrows,
One end bears love, the other pain,
He could choose to sink the wrong end in you,
Break it off, fly away, right end in hand,
That's when you'll know living is cruel,
Battling the pain of a broken arrow.
Cupid, sometimes I really ought to hate you,
But mother taught me well to love babies right,
And baby brother Arnold can bear me witness,
For I tried, I tried to always play civil,
Even when infant jealousy peaked and blossomed,
I cuddled him still in my tiny fragile arms,
So I'll love you still with this broken arrow.
But make no mistake, I'll be lying in wait,
Patiently till the day you come of age,
Puberty knocking, and there I'll stand,
Nestling your arrow in my eager hands,
Before you know it I'll aim for your heart,
Sink it in deep with a smug smile on,
Break off the right end and breeze away,
Leaving you with the pain of your broken arrow.