Long Coerced Poems
Long Coerced Poems. Below are the most popular long Coerced by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Coerced poems by poem length and keyword.
There is an art to s i l e n c e,
a beauty in its presence,
when a natural choice.
From the fragility of b u t t e r f l i e s,
to the majesty of sun kissed petals,
an affinity with sparkling stars,
a kinship with the mysterious moon.
Sometimes solitude
is a sanctuary of serenity,
a delicacy of desires and dreams,
elegantly expressed through words.
Yet there is tragedy in it's creativity,
when free will is s t i r r e d
in a cauldron of hurt.
In the manifestation of misery
a mute tongue is a slave to s i l e n c e,
coerced through a nightmare of NOISE
In the crisis of sound,
Satan serenades with your sanity
in his playground of instability.
Deafening s i l e n c e is an illness,
a curse without a remedy
in the stillness of suffering
we can hear a heart breaking
crackling, bleeding - s u f f o c a t i n g.
In death's doorway of destinies,
time is a speechless nemesis,
a reminder that fate has no v o i c e
but in a microcosm of metaphors
there is a province of poetic perception -
when we are s i l e n t
we still have our words.
I have the rhythm of a winding road
how do I consign myself to being confined...
rows of poplar pillars prop
rendezvous canopies beneath we meet
—I self-cajole on ooh-la-la afternoon
yellow eyes; daffodils watching
lean into gossip groups nodding
a prodding breeze instigating deep-freeze—
I am a sweet weed in this place of sway and betray
with a stranger I stroll my arranged betrothed
height of his black top hat challenges trees
much like Corinthian columns
guards of an aisle I must walk —dear God! must walk
trepidation trips down my bridal spinal column
tiger eyes; lilies watching wish they were me
dare they dream they could uproot their roots like me
wish they could wedding waltz like I must —like I must
but their envy-leaves remain embrace-less
—I secretly envy lilies’ arms empty of yet unmet love
daffodils; empty-headed —laugh
they try to read my mind to fill their own
what do I care of their curdled thoughts lemon tart
and orange lilies’ with their brocade brimstone
what do I fear of fire-breathers burn of words
undergrowth feels the square heels of my lace-up boots
post impression grows more expressive than first—
beware French tongues of sundew and burdock burr
marriage-carriage rolls in ruts to Versailles
where my coerced corset of hooks and ties lie
rhythm of a winding road dies in minuet strangle-hold
Doing Wright
Tom Wright AKA
Miracle Man
3/10/2024
In life I’ve done things,
just because of my want.
Several times perhaps,
because of someone’s taunt.
I’ve done many things,
because one would ask.
Later wondering why,
I was chosen for their task.
I’ve quietly done things,
just to ease someone’s need.
While remembering the *scripture,
and planting God’s seed.
On occasion I do things,
because I’m being told.
Without ever thinking,
that I’m being controlled.
But the times I’ve done things,
and left feeling the worst.
Were those few times,
when left feeling coerced.
Once I did something,
through prayerful urging.
Then felt God’s spirit,
as my sin He was purging.
If God gives me a job,
and I refuse without trying.
By uttering the words “I can’t”,
His power I’m denying.
*Matthew 25:40 KJV:
And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.
Sea Glass
From Mother Nature’s jewel box
She gives us and
She reciprocates …
Over the sands of time She forms and fashions troves of jewels
Refuse, shards of glass litter discarded and strewn
Sanded and polished by briny waves magically glazed frosty verglas
Trading trash and abuse with gifts
Sea glass gems washed ashore
Stones resembling emeralds, amethyst, ruby’s,
turquoise crystals displayed on the soft carpeted shores
Wishes to have seen this newfangled beauty
She once gifted us exquisitely
A rare sight as less litter evinces Her gifts scarce
I wonder was She by us coerced?
Ample reasons for us to quit littering
if not, there are more
Yes, it was the annual old people reunion; used to be family, but now only the greats and the great-greats attend. The young members of the family who are guilt-ed or coerced into showing up, are not visiting with the greats, choosing instead to focus their sole attention on Ipads, Ipods, and tablets.
The greats have some fine stories, they are missing.
The greats would love for one of the younger ones to come over, and pay some attention to them.
It does not happen. Even the ones without technology they brought themselves, have children to run after. The greats could never catch up with the twos and threes as they are running toward the street.
I am an in-betweener. I see what is happening, but cannot stop it. We are losing our humanity, and it’s so sad. I am wishing that the Internet will crash, so the greats can see how wonderful the young ones are, and the young ones can see how witty and gay the oldest ones are.
We are all there, and yet, none are there.
Sad.
Their Everlasting Night
The pain of night returns
carrying with it the horror
of the lost lives of the still living.
The shadows of the headlights,
the sounds of the boots,
the flowered names on the doors
pushed open, the eyes pried open,
the legs forced open by these soldiers
seeking “comfort”.
These Japanese Military Sex Slaves, “comfort women”,
coerced, bribed, abducted and transported
to battle zones to provide “comfort” to
the Japanese soldiers. Children
stripped of childhood, young women
degraded, demeaned, disgraced
at the hands of still unrepentant rapists.
Who will comfort these women now,
in the pain of their everlasting night.
As of this time about 40 still live,
still dread the pain of sunset’s pall
the scent of the darkness.
They are but a few - yet wish to ensure
that the story of the many does not
fade into history’s silent acquiescence.
There is a shame that should be felt,
not by these women, but by all of
humankind, an ache that pierces the
soul of all, a question that must be asked
knowing that we will find no comfort
in the answer.
John G. Lawless
3/4/2015
submitted to – The Pain of Night – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Tammy Reams
Afterglow
by Michael R. Burch
for Beth
The night is full of stars. Which still exist?
Before time ends, perhaps one day we’ll know.
For now I hold your fingers to my lips
and feel their pulse ... warm, palpable and slow ...
once slow to match this reckless spark in me,
this moon in ceaseless orbit I became,
compelled by wilder gravity to flee
night’s universe of suns, for one pale flame ...
for one pale flame that seemed to signify
the Zodiac of all, the meaning of
Love’s wandering flight past Neptune. Now to lie
in dawning recognition is enough ...
enough each night to bask in you, to know
the face of love ... eyes closed ... its afterglow.
The Insurrection of Sighs
by Michael R. Burch
She was my Shiloh, my Gethsemane;
she nestled my head to her breast
and breathed upon my insensate lips
the fierce benedictions of her ubiquitous sighs,
the veiled allegations of her disconsolate tears . . .
Many years I abided the agile assaults of her flesh . . .
She loved me the most when I was most sorely pressed;
she undressed with delight for her ministrations
when all I needed was a good night’s rest . . .
She anointed my lips with her soft lips’ dews;
the insurrection of sighs left me fallen, distressed, at her elegant heel.
I felt the hard iron, the cold steel, in her words and I knew:
the terrible arrow showed through my conscripted flesh.
The sun in retreat left her victor and all was Night.
The last peal of surrender went sinking and dying—unheard.
Star Crossed
by Michael R. Burch
Remember—
night is not like day;
the stars are closer than they seem ...
now, bending near, they seem to say
the morning sun was merely a dream
ember.
The State of the Art (?)
by Michael R. Burch
Has rhyme lost all its reason
and rhythm, renascence?
Are sonnets out of season
and poems but poor pretense?
Are poets lacking fire,
their words too trite and forced?
What happened to desire?
Has passion been coerced?
Shall poetry fade slowly,
like Latin, to past tense?
Are the bards too high and holy,
or their readers merely dense?
He reaches down from the heights of the heavens,
Whispering grace and mercy – His gentle essence.
He touches my soul with a sense of acceptance,
Honoring me with so many great blessings.
I feel His love amid the prayers that I keep praying,
Reaching out to Him with a hopeful heart portraying.
I am lifted up from the depths of pain and sorrow,
Reassured that I can discover joys in tomorrow.
He fills my heart and soul with pure, sweet love,
Answers all my prayers from the glories above.
He inspires me to give all I have of compassion,
Teaching me to never give up on my greatest passions.
I always know that my faith will carry me through,
With the absolute assurance that my heart is a new.
I grow wiser with each moment spent on my knees,
It is without a doubt, God whom I seek to please.
He heals my hurts with His endlessly lavish affection,
Cleanses me from all my sin within His Son’s connection.
He soothes my loneliness with His undying friendship,
Causes me to delight in the bliss that is alive – it’s endless.
I know Him as creator, giver of life, giving gifts to the soul,
When he reaches out to mankind, it is purity He bestows.
I never know when He will touch my heart with hope,
Wherever I go, there is the assurance that he will help me cope.
He brings me through the very best and very worst,
With His power and strength He can never be coerced.
He knows the depths of the spirit and loves me anyway,
Without Him here with me, I wouldn’t make it through the day.
I’m thankful beyond all my prayers, praise and piety,
Without my relationship with Him I would be filled with anxiety.
I want to always be with Him, eternally – for always,
When I go to heaven, my greatest moment will be giving Him…
The best of my praise with each and every phrase.
September 8, 2019
Your Choice Max 333 Words Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
October 3, 2019 - I would like to enter this one in Your Best Rhyme poem because it's uplifting and praises Jesus.
the image displayed through the liquid reflection
conveys the thoughts and memories of life's imperfections
the mirror reveals the opposite of a being
but it can also conceal the things you are seeing
like a magician your eyes are shrouded by deception
from the mind to your eyes coerced through inception
the holistic visuals portrayed in each mirror
becomes the optical focus as the mind becomes clearer
though the eyes maybe the windows to the soul
the mirror can only reflect what the eyes behold
as the oceans reflects the heavens above
our actions reflect a heart filled with love
the world is a mirror reflecting our past
but shrouded in mystery shattered like glass
the quest for an image conjures the truth
but the relics of knowledge do not circumvent proof
but to view the ultimate image that one must bestow
one must see past the reflection that the mirror does show
Imprisoned
They robbed me of time,
controlled me by their lenses
censored my opinions
took my rights away
mere men speculating
ignorant kings from central casting
spoke for simpleton from the Labs
convincing me of “Experimental” concoction
for which i must not sue.
They Robbed me of time,
shamming me for my choice
Taunting me with divisive tags
unvaxx unfit to live
They shut me in like a prisoner
Because i chose freedom
deny my right to move and travel
to gain control of my body
These experiment has failed
Yet they do not care,
Pharmaceutical toying with life
and Ignorant Dictators colluding
These Fascist
rode on our collective serendipity
Turned dictators
barring us like a plaque
discriminated
restricted
Denied
Abused
deprived
Banned
denigrated
Shamed
Coerced
Because i chose freedom