Long Coexisting Poems
Long Coexisting Poems. Below are the most popular long Coexisting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Coexisting poems by poem length and keyword.
A car rolls into a soundless night,
It's light sends a bursting view of overhanging growth,
In a microcosm succession of descending seconds,
Pruned for a snapshot temporal existence,
Till all is rendered back to the void of night.
Sounds of rolling wakes the void,
'Tis but a wheel cover errant for intimacy,
The road approves its adoption,
As it settles amongst other roadside neglects,
Earth's orphans coexisting under new sun's and periodical moon's.
Dull chrome insulted by grey matter and passing ignorance,
Melts in a blink of an eon as inherent elements being nursed,
A rebirth phenomenon after being ripped from its womb,
As meddling minds, carve out canyons and canvases felled trees,
Sculpture mountains, etch on charcoal skies, paint from oiled oceans,
All from a dark planet behind concealed metal mask and chromed artificial air tanks,
That all were at one time...
...an errant orphaned wheel cover.
It's sad to reminisce the memory of those
who have long left our world without a chance for goodbyes....
I was left behind for an unexplainable reason
to fulfill a task with a true purpose;
and still walking and breathing I go on,
gathering tiny fragments of stories never told by writers.
Sometimes I tell myself," Why was I continuously spared?"
" Why do I have to be the last one to leave?"
Those answers will be given to me when I'll grieve,
and close to death : I will hear them through the voice of the Lord.
And instead of receiving comfort, I will generously give it...
even to the enemy who once despised my honesty;
and coexisting with everyone, I will uphold my ethical code and go forth,
not cogitating the mystery of my unblemished identity.
Many before me have achieved this by resisting change,
not adapting to the new moralities dictated by society,
but the result was too tragic and gruesome for all to accept reality;
and as lepers with open wounds, they still indulged in pleasure,
hiding their disease with canning lies and eloquent flair....
I would cut off my own hands, rather than share the unclean thing!
And still walking and breathing, my arduous mission must be complete:
neither ridicule nor contemptible looks will make me put my rod away!
I'll stick to my convictions and move on to delight in another blessed day,
and as bewildered as they may be, I refuse to be compassionate...
they must understand the purpose of my birth,
identify those works and deeds that give me worth,
then the outcome wouldn't be short of a miracle;
and ebullient as they appear, I suspect they will tremble!
Faith is tethered to love;
together, they connect your heart to your soul.
Faith is a bridge, spanning the chasm
between mortality and spirituality.
And though faith is blind,
it guides your soul towards eternity.
Hope carves pathways to love,
without which life has no footing.
Trust supports love, and faith fuels trust;
their relationship is symbiotic and coexisting.
Empathy forms the foundation for faith, hope,
and love; the three pillars,
upon which humanity stands;
fortifying faith, harboring hope, and nurturing love.
Truth is often obscured, hidden behind
a fog of despair drained of light.
Yet, hope, trust, and love
fuel faith's flame,
enlightening our souls and revealing truth.
Arise oh compatriot
The call for change never change
In our era here in Africa
Same voice same particular people
The chants for better days never stop
Same community same poor people’s
The protest for better wages never ends
Same labourers same youths same people
The failed system bad effects never stop coexisting among the common man’s daily life
Same men same issues same people
This kinds of situations attracts uprising
Among same places same countries same people
No wonder the youths no longer obey the old men no more this era
Everyone struggling by disobedience
Regardless the precaution
I wonder what kind of time we are moving towards
With same situations same pains same problems
Honestly tomorrow looks red instead of blue for the future of
Same youths same citizens same people
Hopefully with all the failed era the time is getting sooner for a take over
Who knows cos it is what is always is
The handwriting is not written only on the walls alone this era
It is written more on the faces of the hungry youths so
arise oh compatriot
The following are examples
Of how I look at the good and bad side of life
Peace is good... war is extremely bad
A thriving economy is good... unemployment is bad
Coexisting is good... confrontation is bad
Making up after a quarrel is good... refusing to discuss is bad
Wishing someone a great day is good... failing to do so is bad
Forgiving someone for an insult is good... a grudge is bad
Having a good time is good... driving home tipsy is bad
Always being happy is good... always being sad is bad
Growing old with grace is good... growing old crochety is bad
Helping a neighbour is good... refusing to do so in need is bad
Sharing your good fortune... hoarding is bad
Are you convinced yet? No? Here's more...
Hugging your wife is good... having an affair is bad
Smiling broadly is good... frowning like an ogre is bad
Showing loved ones your love is good... correcting is bad
Being gracious to people is good... being a grouch is bad
Honesty is good... deception is bad
Thanking a waitress with a smile... like a servant is bad
Being truthful is good... deceiving people is bad
This advice I give you freely is good... lying to you is bad
There... I've said my peace!
That's the good and the bad side of life!
While we stay silent
The fight is going on.
In Chicago, Los Angeles, New York
The West Indies
And the Lebanon
All over the world
There is a tale to tell
Of some living in paradise
Whilst others live in hell.
Its not a random stumble
Nor a twist of faith,But a master plan.
By those who seek power
Over those who plod along
Its not an illusion, but what is felt
When we are blessed with riches
But cannot share the wealth
But what is ego without a plan?
What is salvation,
when we fail to understand?
Reparation of the soul is a must
If its redemption we seek
And god we trust
When reality rears its ugly head
When babies are born
And cannot be fed
When wars are started
And nothing is said
About the wounded, paralysed and the dead
Mothers lie down and plea.
Gun powder crying out in the atmospher,.
Tormenting my ear.
Some even bow down on bent knees.
They feel the pain and ask for mercy.
In the anguish and suffering , they bite the dust.
The TV the object
Perpetuating the fact
That humanity has taken a detour
On a roundabout
When we fail to act.
From the lack of knowledge
We fail to see
That when we are united
We end depravity.
To grow and prosper, in pastures green
That what was hidden is now seen
The truth for what it is.
When we exist, and fail to live.
When they are taking, and cannot give.
Of time and thinking.
Of mutual living, coexisting.
With love and hope
Not based off trickery and false hope.
No, my friend,
we are neither pure good nor pure evil
but
we are both good and evil!
Look
at all these pairs of opposite forces bellow:
hope and fear
courage and cowardice
success and failure
pleasure and suffering
happiness and unhappiness
knowledge and ignorance
virtue and vice
love and hate
They
are all coexisting in one's soul in perfect harmony
till
the moment we are called upon a decision to take
then
a vicious war of domination begins between the opponents
that
usually, lasts a lifetime
and
pending who the winner of this conflict is,
we, my beloved friend, become one or
the other! *
© Demetrios Trifiatis
09 June 2020
* This poem was chosen as POTD. Thank you all good friends who have contributed to this honor by their continuous support! God bless you!
I also thank the site for the bestowed honor!
Pink arrives
like the first warmth of breath
on cold glass—
soft, sudden,
unapologetically alive.
It is the color of almost,
of not-yet-bloomed,
of fingers brushing
but not holding.
It lives
in the hush between laughter,
in the curl of a lip
before it becomes a smile,
in the sky’s quiet confessions
just before dusk gives in.
Pink remembers
how to be tender
without being fragile.
It is the flush of defiance
and the sigh of surrender,
coexisting
like petals and thorns.
There’s a wildness to it—
sugar with sharp teeth,
the kind of softness
you could bleed for
and still ask for again.
It dances
in sidewalk chalk dreams,
lipstick smudges on coffee cups,
and the echo of secrets
shared under low light.
Pink isn’t loud—
but it doesn’t ask to be small.
It glows,
even when the world
demands dimness.
It is the echo of joy
that lingers
long after the hands have let go.
Written: February 12, 2025 for Ink Empress Poetry Contest
************************
In the tumultuous twilight of
my wimpy seascape
I twist in torment
wandering through
wondrous woods,
awash with vibrant vistas and fragrant foliage.
My katabatic soul yearns for a soothing balm,
as the earth reverberates with abyssal emotions.
Beneath the intricate embroidery of my substratum,
bleeding bold hues into celestial heights,
wrestling with the wondrous warmth
of love within this sanctuary.
I mourn the delicate flesh
that once pulsed within me,
paying heartfelt tribute
to the soul that has departed.
Coexisting collectively for five decades
snowflakes silently settle, while the serene sea,
cradles a speechless seagull
and solitary seashells.
Radiant roses intertwine with rugged thorns,
alongside sandy shores and shimmering seas—each
glance at majestic palms
revealing beauty in its complexity.
My soul swirls in a simmering
cauldron of desires,
colliding with constellations and
luminous orbs as dusk settles.
I cradle the cardinal grief as
a potent elixir, meticulously
concocted by the cosmos.
Through thick fogs and dusky dimness,
I shape my treasured dreams
into the breathing bounds,
aspiring to mend the mighty
fissures in life's lofty ledges
with clarity and compassion.
The wretched waves wail.
In a sea of weeping roses,
I drift like a whisper carried by the wind,
extravagant in harmony with hazy waves
where storms of panic are in the bosom of hollow shade
I yearn to be North Star on the horizon
that shuns showing the ostentatious apex of lucent love
Will the twists of time still tether our tenderness?
My spirit is similar to a blossom bound in the biting breeze.
Seeks shelter in the celestial shadows as it soars.
What are we?
Travellers caught in a life space -
souls through eternity?
Who are we?
People? Beings? Animals?
Our true nature is hidden deep.
Would we recognise our true self
in the hour of need?
Why are we?
Coexisting with each other.
Conversations, friends, a civilised
cup of tea?
Caged to the rule of law to maintain
society?
What will happen?
When nature reveals a new form of
human anarchy?
Do we seriously think that nature
has no power over the human races
longevity
Do we seriously think our future
grass will get greener when history
spells out humankind is built on
sinister yet tailored savagery?
Do we feel?
Do we feel a cold wind gathering?
Do we trap the beast of nature for
our selfish pitiful greed?
As natural as the water in the
deepest sea, we are as natural as
can be.
But this earth as seen it all before so,
so many times indeed.
Do we see?
Do we see that in the big picture the
life and history of humanity is nothing
but a tear drop in nature’s ocean of
ferocity?