Long Castaway Poems
Long Castaway Poems. Below are the most popular long Castaway by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Castaway poems by poem length and keyword.
"Reality is something you rise above." -Liza Minelli
There is a host of systems the world over that mankind has chosen to live under or to be governed by. Some of these systems are cultural,
and others are political or religious. Some systems are so entrenched into the life and psyche of its people that there is very little opportunity to escape
their gripe. Unfortunately, these are "Realities" that the populous in many societies must learn to live with or, in many cases, become a criminal or castaway in society.
In the "Free World", it is easy to take for granted the mindset to which we have become accustomed. We all are subjected to the reality we are born into, but at some point, we learn and come to realize that reality is not our god, and we are not bound to remain in an unpleasant status if we choose to prepare ourselves to face the challenges and "Rise Above" the unpleasant plight into which we find ourselves. Even in hostile societies with far less freedom, men and women have found ways to "Rise Above" those seemingly inescapable realities. The "Rise Above" is often very costly endeavors and pursuits, resulting in imprisonments and too often even death.
There are other realities in family life that are more personal and far less
hostile. For example, My father died, leaving 11 minor children with our mother who was 35 years old. Some of our relatives, desiring to help our mother, offered to raise some of us kids. Without much thought, our mother said "No". Though her sadden reality looked dark, our mother had a personal faith
in God that energized her to believe that she could "Rise Above" her challenging reality and make a good life for her kids. She chose to keep us
together, and I have no doubt that we are the better for it. Father was gone, and mother made the wise right choice because she knew best.
021820PoSpCtest, She Inspires Series, Maureen McGreavy
Sometimes I feel like a castaway;
My sails and rudder in disarray-
A derelict floating past Cathay-
Then marooned on a shoal.
Other times I feel like a stowaway,
Secreted in some musty hideaway,
Watching the world change day by day
From a filthy porthole.
Sometimes I feel like a runaway.
All my pride’s been sanded away;
Hustling for food and somewhere to stay-
Some dark and dank bolt hole.
Other times I feel like I’ve gone astray,
That the best of me’s eroding away.
Dissipating misty yesterday
What’s left of my soul.
(Chorus)
I’d probably feel this way all the time,
If I didn’t come home with you.
Mornings would start with no sunshine,
If I didn’t wake up with you.
All the world’s imperfections,
Objections, and rejections,
Would drown me in dejection
If you weren’t the Copilot of my crew.
There've been time I've felt like I've gone astray.
Each tomorrow's still another day.
I still have time to change my way
To once more feel whole.
I don't have to be a runaway,
A castaway or a stowaway.
With your help I can find my way
And re-find my soul.
In God's Word, many promises abound
To those who put their trust in Him
Resting upon what He has proclaimed
He will guide us when the way is grim
He promised, those who seek shall find
And a door is opened, if we but knock
It's the Father's pleasure
To give the kingdom, to the little flock
He promised, the labourer and heavy laden
Rest for their weary soul
And that the humble, shall be exalted
When true commitment, is their goal
He promised, to never leave or forsake
Those devoted to His plan
A lamp to our feet - a light to our path
Guiding us throughout life's span
He promised, that all who come to Him
Will not be a castaway
Giving assurance, to the faint-of-heart
When the adversary, would lead astray
He promised, that if for His purpose
We are called, and abide in Him
All things work, together for our good
At times when choices seem so slim
He promised, that no temptation
Will be greater than we can bear
But an escape route it shall provide
Delivering us from the tempter's snare
He promised, that when walking through
The valley of the shadow of death
No evil I will have to fear
When I am taking that final breath
Colan L Hiatt = 09-12-13
© All Rights Reserved
i lay stilled atop this muddied cold ground
a castaway like autumn's leaves deadened
unable, unwilling to move around
i sit bloodied, like skies of dawn, reddened
i am bathed in november's cold, harsh rain
pummeled by the fate of past's sniffling cries
slowly succumbing beneath weighted pain
i reach out attempting to dry my eyes
perhaps it is the will of fate to die
to wither and crumble atop this ground
to gather where the helpless others lie
to succumb here, unseen, wrinkled and browned
is life's pain something to be remembered
or cast off in the winds of december?
11/21/2020
M idsummer castaway
E nchanted by a spell
R avished by a sea temptress
M aiden with the raven hair
A balone were her eyes
I dyllic elixir sweet her voice
D ownstream she led the castaway
S eabirds followed the seductress
E astward once the sailor was bewitched
R ocking to the rhythm of the waves
E merging lost at the other end
N eptune’s curse abetting the nymph
A dieu lost star-crossed captive
D reamworld is your final destination
E ntwined in the arms of your seafaring goddess
AP: 3rd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2022
Home, home is a place where you're supposed to feel loved and safe.
A place where you can go to get away.
When you struggle throughout your day you know you can go and not feel like a castaway.
Home, not everyone has one of those.I didn't growing up.
I had drug addicts and people who didn’t care about if we were okay or if we were stuck
The lying and the pain that was placed on us for a long while.
Home, I realized this isn’t a place I should go to for help when no help was there.
When they knew about the pedophiles and the hurt us kids had to go through not caring if our hearts had a tare.
Home, was this really a place I could go to when I was in need?
“just kiss me for a minute”, “don’t move”, “it won’t hurt”, “come sit next to me” he would plead.
Late movie nights that would turn into fights
or that room that would turn into her getting abused
not having a care in the world for her own children but she thought that was fine.
When having a thought that her child got seduced.
Oh but Home, “please come home”, she would beg
after we fled that house and moved on into a new home that was better, safer, and more caring.
Home, I can now call where I'm at a home.
Because they care about us and what’s on our minds
and won’t just say nevermind if we don’t understand.
Home, go find your place that makes you feel safe, cherish every moment you can and don’t let it go to waste.
Mornings nail me to the chair of the clocks of my penance,
Minutes pierce me like poisoned needles.
I devour luminous mirrors
That regurgitate falsified truths.
I feed on bitterness and devastating pains,
To endure the dictatorship of suffering and indelible scars.
My lugubrious laughter has fossilized,
My wounded heart has turned into a granary of grudges.
My demons and ghosts knock at the door of my fate
Like soldiers demanding their tribute.
I sign contracts with my own perdition,
I rent my youth for a few bills tarnished by my cowardice.
Outside, crowds kneel before the showcases of misery,
Praying to plastic idols.
They sell their time at the market of sterile chimeras,
They call freedom this cannibal chain.
I would like to scream until the dungeon of my existence shatters,
But my throat is clogged with dust.
I would like to break this glass ceiling
That separates me from a life I have never tasted.
I am a voluntary slave in this morbid century,
A spectator forced to contemplate his own decomposition.
I cling to notebooks scribbled with the blood of my sacrifices
Like a castaway on a raft of ink.
If one day my melancholic monologues escape their bars,
May they become a fire in your veins dilated by fear.
May my pain turn into a banner,
And at last may this ordeal implode beneath your wounds.
You're the reason I rise on a winters day .
You put that glint in my eye and a smile on my face.
Your my Hollywood hero a star of matinee.
You're the girl of my dreams my ideal castaway.
Those smiles that you give me, your just ace.
You're the reason I rise on a winters day.
You're the moon and the stars reflected on a wind swept bay.
In a race for my heart you would always get first place.
Your my Hollywood hero a star of matinee.
I would walk on hot coals from here to Bombay.
To be by your side, and see that smile, face to face.
You're the reason I rise on a winters day.
People may frown but you'll be mine one day.
Your my favourite member of the human race.
Your my Hollywood hero a star of matinee.
I would whisk you off your feet and take you away .
And every day your beauty I would showcase.
You're the reason I rise on a winters day .
Your my Hollywood hero a star of matinee.
shall i love a maiden fair
whose favor i'll not see
or will she grant within her heart
a special place for me
i take no lead in this affair
but follow her desires
quiet patience tames my beating heart
engulfed in passioned fire
love, reciprocated love
it cries from deep inside
not guaranteed for one like me
brings tears i cannot hide
she is worth the chance i take
i feel she is the one
with arms outstretched my offered heart
for her to take and own
she and time shall both decide
the future of our lives
be separate or two as one
bears fear and hope to thrive
must this love be muted as
a silent castaway
until the time when she'll confess
her love for me one day
i can only hope and dream
until that day is come
i pray the Lord to give me strength
when all is said and done
From your parapet of pity you prophesize and proclaim,
That the widows of the tailors dug two shallow graves.
To mould the unmoulded into suits a crane,
who makes such dreams built of rain, served on a the back of your undiscovered pain?
A topographic phrenology that undulates the benign.. a course of repression not duly prescribe. While consciousness draws closer ticking over time,
we hear of other mumblers, shuffling for their dime.
Their mumbling over and over what's your sure once was mine.
Their mumbling over and over what's yours now must be mine.
So once again willing to put in the time.
Castaway your wings sink to the sublime.
Indulge in divulgence, balance the the unclean, tightropes are not mere nooses for a canvass set unseen.