Long Compensated Poems
Long Compensated Poems. Below are the most popular long Compensated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Compensated poems by poem length and keyword.
46 moons following the 5th winter
democracy has yet offered its charis for partaking.
"Gather yee faithful slaves," "drink from thy cup," it beckons.
Having danced to the sweet empty promises,
and wore the affiliated regalia of sheer stupidity, it is time to proclaim, how deep it goes.
A manifestation, of a prior auction where rights have already been sold for less than 3 silvers.
Multitudes, from all corners of the fire nation, gather in the bare mushroom of a scorching sun,
Ready to cast lots, and choose the next captain for the ship engulfed in fire.
Each slave, convinced of the prowess and abilities of their captain.
"A" argues, "he is experienced and knows the routes to steer us out of danger and lead us to a safe harbor."
While "B" laments, "though we may seem lost, he still knows the route that leads to Canaan."
Another proclaims, "it is better to redirect the ship back to Egypt; at least we ate meat that compensated the lashes on the back."
Either could be right or wrong, but then again what defines a right or wrong?
Perhaps it's better to commit the sin of indifference, and watch from the terraces as "D" suggests?
Either way, every option is a covenant in itself,
A pact made by man to a fellow Adam.
A choice that defines a mixed bag of unknowns to be unleashed in the next unforeseeable future.
Welcome to the covenant of choosing a lesser Devil.
Addiction is the compensation for something lost in childhood. You are not addicted to the substance or the thing, but it's a release from the trauma that you compensated with the substance and the addiction those feelings bring What’s crazy is
Most of our lives depend on blind faith
I was given some wise words of wisdom one time in therapy. He said, "You go to sleep with the unconscious faith that in the morning your eyes will open to see a new day." I paused and replied, "Holy crap its true!",
that means we all actually have faith built in even when we doubt we do. Even in doubt, you still have faith every minute of the day with every breath you anticipate that it will oxygenate, moving carbon dioxide from your blood to your lungs. This process is blind faith, aka body’s gas exchange Crazy right to think you’ve been searching for faith, and you have had it all along So when addiction steps in
That faith is skewed or barely hanging on So blame your parents. Just kidding they knew nothing more than what they were taught and what their eyes perceived in their own environment endured, which was full of fear, sadness and anger that unconsciously transferred to us the unaware and new baby who one day too, would be an adult now with trauma and fears without reason until they realize the reason was you. We only seen the aftereffects our caretakers were subjected to due to their upbringing where they learned to neglect, blame and shame not from their own wants but their surroundings, they too were emotionally enslaved and so on before them and all their generations passed too. This is how their trauma affects you. Addiction starts compensating for something lacking, masking an unhealed wound Pain that was never meant for a child to go through or bear painful feelings that don’t belong to you
The appearance of gentleness
shows many gracious ways
and this image of godly meekness
is being totally true to oneself;
it can't be stirred by rage,
or even irrational revenge:
indignation is an unthinkable bluff!
Do nobles often embrace folly?
Be it envy, betrail or debauchery,
they all fall into the pit of misery;
someone belonging to their bloodline got clever
and invented the trick of alchemy...
he imagined one sleeping when he was dead:
the transformation was grandly achieved,
the Veiled Christ was a showcase of grandeur!
Sculptors with chisels and hammers
create faces that are realistically divine;
they embody their own spirit on those faces
with expressions that exceed human beauty:
more than paintings they exude emotions.
Novelists write stories, poets write poems;
who hasn't memorized a specific line
written with cleverness and simplicity?
Are we engaged more in remote interaction
than in human emotions that spread affection?
Do we forget to give a hug in our rush for success
heading to a destination where dialogue is about affairs,
not realizing that we are trading our happiness,
for wealth, our temptation for holiness;
and all the permissive actions that transgress?
Do we see an end to obsessive and unyielding greediness?
Can we ignore the voice of irreversible trust,
and allow deafness to define our worthiness
turned into mindlessness not connected to emotions?
Never expect to be compensated by lust:
it's not a guaranteed way to feel good without resentment:
can we achieve glory without the virtue of our passions?
Close your eyes: Picture a long-ago time and place
When life was lived at a much slower pace
Think Deep South, small towns or big cities
Your lot in life there determined by race
Colored folks couldn't attend school with whites
Which often meant that their futures weren't bright
Couldn't eat with them, swim with them, use their restrooms
So many white folks just shrugged at their plight
And just as the schools were segregated
So too pro sports leagues were not integrated
Spawning the incomparable Harlem Globetrotters
Talented athletes with pennies compensated
Now open your eyes wide to America today
Where the black athlete dominates the field of play
From Serena Williams to Tiger Woods to LBJ (LeBron James)
What would all those folks from long ago say
Would they think that no progress' been made
When in politics black leaders burst through barricades
From Colin Powell to Barack Obama, tales of powerful drama
The rich and the mighty now come in all shades
Yet today the young say America's racist, oppressive
That the progress folks feel is an illusion, regressive
But if you ask those mythical visitors from long ago
From their point of view, it's quite impressive
A composition on canvas; lyrics written for a song
Tortured was a soul asking, "Where do I belong?"
Daunted with a fragile mind but never was he blind
to being rejected although his love for her was true.
In oils squeezed upon a palette, did he seek to find
peace in such a hostile world, he painted cobalt blue.
Don Mclean denied accusers of Van Gogh's insanity,
Windswept clouds were part of his artistic humanity.
Brush strokes of sadness were not proof of madness.
With such a depth of emotions, why did no one see
the hand of one who created the abstract landscape
unlocked Vincent's prison door so he could escape?
His visions of dark shadowed hills and starry skies,
were boldly brushed with sighs and wearied eyes.
A tapestry he left behind; a life of angst and regret.
Yet, no one listened before he took his final breath.
Van Gogh sought freedom but only found it in death.
A tragedy that can never be compensated or offset.
Tempestuous gales imbued the horizons about
Thunder and lightning charged the dense sky
Watching shards of a rainbow swiftly fleeing
Flashing blacks and greys permeates the eye
Forsooth the heavens were vexed with rage
Hearken to the voices of the gods this day
Echoing through the mountains and valleys alike
There was no denying this mighty display
Expeditiously it came, like a furious beast
With a hefty breath, it suddenly dissipated
It was as if, the gods had been satisfied
Some way or another, they had been compensated
Within a heart beat, the birds took flight again
Flying in the wind, for now, they were immune
The elements now all calm, brewing in their guise
Don't play with this woman, she's a wild typhoon
I put my Nightmares , out to Pasture.
My fears , I through to the wind.
My loneliness Has been Compensated.
Ominus clouds : dissipated.
The night full of Starlight ; and MOONBEAMS.
No more nightmares , no more bad dreams.
No more tears to cry in anguish , No more Heartfelt Pain.
I hear thunder, I see lightning, I do not feel the rain.
It gently Falls to earth, so the earth can grow again.
From the darkness of loneliness, to the Light of LOVE : I transcend.
A LOVING,CARING, ANGEL ; that is much more than a FRIEND.
A gift from GOD : Together ALWAYS and FOREVER until the END :
OF ETERNITY
This vain wish to live longer, somewhere,
makes me struggle with my vulnerability
of having been born with the fear of dying...
and before that is accomplished: let me live!
I've been told, " It's not possible that time can freeze youth indefinitely,"
but that intricate illusion was too persistent and real;
this boy always believed it would have never faded...
now being sorrowful and old, I realize how untrue and contrived it was!
Be convivial and consume your time wisely,
don't hold the conviction that over-the-hill is the end;
you've gathered all the knowledge to survive another year,
and on your calendar mark every birthday and celebrate...
I will do the same believing that I'd continue walking in eternity
as when youth froze time to contradict an undeserved fate
without connoting wrong, but being congrous and fair...
oh, youth your concession has compensated me for that loss!
I should be miserable as anybody else...lamenting and lashing,
but what good it would do if not harm me and shorten these days?
I enjoy every moment that life gives me...being hopeful for more to come;
others cuss, slander and end life demolishing all they had built in their past!
I denote my achievements as milestones that everyone will remember,
and certainly I'll be sought after for the secrets my words will unfold;
and their purpose and extent are very conceivable to the scholar and reader...
not deploring the naive idea that time can freeze youth indefinitely.
It's there -- the light at the journey's end.
I want to sprint ahead; my mind moves fast.
Many new adventures, many people to befriend.
I'm neither first nor second, I finished dead last.
That's alright, though, there's still much treasure to be had.
The race is through, now let's party and have a blast.
The forces of evil are no longer driving me mad.
The floods, the fires, and the storms are over.
I am now completely compensated for all I had.
Others just like me, picking up the mess they left over.
I lend a hand, and they lend one back to me.
Destined to survive, it was never game over.
Walking through the light was a whole new world to see.
We ate our fill, and drank from the spring.
Rest is needed, please let us be.
Darkness and thorns are gone, let freedom ring.
It's there -- the light at journey's end.
Darkness and thorns are gone, let us all sing.
Many new adventures, many people to befriend.
After Glow
The pumpkin pie is steaming in the oven,
just exactly right for the evening dessert.
A sweet remembrance of all things...
that have happened since the first hello,
the first hug, the first call, and laugh.
Until the last goodbye, the last hug,
the last christen and the last tear...
have been spoken aloud or
fallen in earnest.
Merry Christmas to you and yours.
Merry Christmas to the world,
the Lord hath come...
Everyone is welcome!
It is a time of thanksgiving;
of hope and joy and song.
It is a time of grateful;
humble thoughts,
and open prayers.
Forgive those that trespass,
as we are forgiven.
A price paid, a ransom compensated...
for sin too expensive to ever be cleared of debt,
sacrificed for... and given to all by a King,
for souls lost,
and burned from the dark fires;
that never cease,
the agony of all humankind.
Mistakes made from the beginning,
my woman and man,
we humbly bow and pray.
Savior, of the world.
Your birth,
the first star,
the first light,
in all the world...
forever bright!