Long Compensations Poems
Long Compensations Poems. Below are the most popular long Compensations by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Compensations poems by poem length and keyword.
Eluding My Ressurection
Eluding the proposition of more work to be done
Prelude to the inquisition that is blocking out the sun
I can only conclude that the ammunition was hard fought and won
While the interlude for the intermission has only just begun
Statutory situations from behind a judges bench presiding
Defamatory imitations that aren’t worth justifying
Auditory insinuations that see a person testifying
Crematory conflagrations that are somewhat death defying
Intercontinental ballistic missiles heading for a major city
Coincidental trajectories on the inside that are the opposite of pretty
Environmental projectiles that leave humans loitering in complicity
Developmental officials that stunt the growth of those without pity
Acrimonious altercations that leave you shocked and stunned
Parsimonious purification that has men reaching for their guns
Disharmonious communications that make you feel inclined to run
Sanctimonious salutations that remove the laughter from the fun
Aberrations of contemplations that leave my thinking incomplete
Abdications of compensations that keep you working on your feet
Complications of innovations that seem to be headed for defeat
Combinations of annotations that keep your words strong enough to compete
Augmentation of technological conversations altered for their privilege and stature
Conflagrations of mythological consternations that have people waiting for the rapture
Insinuations of psychological manifestations that make you feel like you are captured
Constellations of astronomical configurations that engender awe and enrapture
I’m hoping that the tides will flow in favour of my direction
While eloping from the slides that show my wanting predilection
For downward sloping motions that grow upward in their redirection
As they live while coping in the know of my resurrection
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz
If it were to be foe, I could bear it; He was my friend;
Why should he betray me? In public that too; at the end;
I kept him aside like a bone separated from meat,
Avoided the rarest of places where our shadows might meet...!
Public bus burning case of nineteen seventy seven,
Had peculiar facts and fancies fermenting like leaven;
My sister and brother-in-law had engulfed by fire,
Leaving their only son survived of all dangers dead-dire...!
Those survived, like the escapees of great Titanic wreck,
Claimed for compensations; wherein my nephew, little speck;
With me, as his advocate sought his mother's ornaments,
To give him as right of inheritance and sentiments...!
My friend, defendant, established as though it's an urchin's,
No doubt, our relation, like drought-cracked earth, got deterrence;
I worked hard to look-after my nephew; to make him great,
He's an entrepreneur now; I felt, I had won my fate...!
I wanted to know, why my friend did it for me; for what?
You are always for your nephew - he said- who is for that...
Friendship should be understood as loving service he said,
I understood; cried and embraced him; all differences shred...!
Could I call this forgiveness, yet? No. This, indeed, is love.
Has loving my friend, any limit? Love comes from above;
Giving and taking and supposed agape has its limit,
Doesn't forgiveness of less forgiven cross all summit...?
03 July 2022
Forgiveness Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
First Snow
Daylight~
My world is covered with pure white snow
Untarnished
The branches of the red pine out my
Window, softly comforted with a thin blanket
Of downy fluff streets, unmarked by soot,
Await transgressions of human movement.
One contemplates at such times~
Hats, snow boots, scarves, packers and
Don't forget to throw the heavy survival blanket
I bought from Joyners in Grand Marais Mn...
(On one of my annual camping trips to the far
North with my daughters as they were
Growing up, showing them where to find
Peace in the real world God Created)
...Into the backseat of my car for those
Unexpected moments when caught outside
Demands prolonged warmth to avoid frostbite.
Naturally, one takes personal inventory
At such times, compensations really,
Mostly age related, necessities for making
It over the winter hump to hoped for, Spring.
There are tools I engage > seed catalogs begin
Arriving, thoughts of renewal, both of nature
And myself emerge in my thinking.
Am I worthy of such a renaissance? are there
Apologies or pleas of forgiveness needed?
Satisfied with conclusions, I convince myself
To venture forth in this clean slate ouside,
Properly self-chastened to avoid past potholes,
And enjoin my gentle imprints with other
Intrepid wanderers of the north country.
~ early November in Minnesota '18
Uncommon Sense
Uncommon sense comes to the fore,
Secretly telling us what lies in store.
Memory can be misplaced;
Destiny must surely be faced.
Fame vanishes into thin air;
Undue longing leads to despair.
Live, but never regret;
Forgive, but never forget.
Repent, but have no remorse;
Guilt sets the mind off course.
Loneliness right down to the bone;
Silence echoes the sound of stone.
Suspicion has very little trust;
Curiosity is considered a must.
Love often fragile emotions tear;
Sorrow never tender emotions spare.
Mystery contains a diaphanous veil;
Revelations tell a luminous tale.
Stupidity often inspires reproach;
Arrogance always dares approach.
False hopes linger as a taunting;
False desires linger as a haunting.
Restraint breathes without complaint;
Respect glows brightly like a saint.
Challenges at times can be bold;
Fulfillment comes in out of the cold.
Infancy bubbles like a fountain;
Adulthood like climbing a mountain.
Raw youth enjoys its fiery sensations;
Old age has its cold compensations.
This poem never seems to end;
Its uncommon sense desires to be penned.
Birthday Funk
Little ones can’t wait to mark the passage of time,
Presents and cake, everyone making a fuss.
Young folks use this time to push out their chests
And say,” look at me”; I’m responsible, I can vote!”
But pass a certain mark and the gifts you get
consist mostly of slippers you can warm in the microwave,
Or Barry Manalow CDs….and maybe some thoughtfully sweet diabetic candy..
Because” You look like you’ve been putting on some wt.” .Ha!
Last week I heard”Let me help you with that sack of flour”,(5 friggin #’s)
Or “ you know there is a senior citizen discount offered today.”
You become terrorized by your mirror and
Spend a lot of your time squinting at fine print,
You have to guess at the menu because
Once again you’ve forgotten your reading glasses...
And will NOT, even consider borrowing his…
Even for a slightly better blur.
But, realistically I know there are compensations for getting older,
Lets see, hmmm, I’ve forgotten what they are. They’ll
Come to me. When they do I’m going to write them down.
Seen my pen?.
Golden Years
Golden Years who’s kidding who
It’s a farce It’s just not true
Try us old folks to deceive
More like rust I do believe.
Take ARTHRITIS when your old
OH how we suffer in rain and cold
Next is OSTEOPAROSIS settling in
Meaning your bones are getting thin.
ACHES and PAINS seem to be
The ones sent to cause us misery
Then you start taking lots of pills
To help you get through all your ills.
But there are compensations too
By all the seniors discounts for you
Places that offer savings galore
Darn it who could ask for more.
But At least we manage to survive
And think how lucky were still alive
And still with family we are able to share
All the love that’s always there.
All our friends are still there too
Supporting us the whole day through
So now we can forget the pain and all
FOR WHICH WE RUSTY GOLDENAGERS THANK YOU ALL.
R. Taub
For some, things in heaven more real,
nothing from earth granted to conceal.
Comrade of the wandering heaven,
scares characters and their impression.
Desires of someone that must be,
compensations tragic here not to see.
Misty morning by prayers waken,
visions of solution gently taken.
Earth circumferential constellation,
Aries rising and fire energies relation.
The spirit tameless, swift and proud,
to the egos will all needs to be bowed.
Spirit fierce and impetuous,
the adrenalin that’s called dangerous.
Will take form from deepest tone,
releasing energies thereon.
Day moon in serene grace disposition,
gentle natures clock submission.
Lack of patience takes virtue to pieces,
giving destiny no real releases.
We need to organize, demand the right to be mindless.
Deserve we compensations,
restorations for the witless who riot.
Compassion and pardon for all moronic mobs.
The right to choose death for others, free booze.
The freedom to abuse, shut down, condemn,
and censor.
We fight for the right to chant
every meaningless slogan,
pledge allegiance to double-speak & gobbledygook,
and of course,
the unalienable sanctity of the male womb,
all gender-fluid birthing, the freedom to groom.
To boldly march on, arm in arm, in tune
toward another dumb-downed.
doltish dawn.
COMPENSATIONS
unusual times
were to inspire
a response
& suspend
confidence
a triptych
space
sound bites
informed views
inspired
& realised
a
conflicted
mix
in rotation
of points
of reference
transparent
revolving
elements
'til
outwardly
conceived
into
reality
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Women who live singly and privately
suddenly become preys to fleas,
who are seeking self serving opportunities,
If they aren't married they are considered
old maids, or bombarded with innuendoes
and clandestine propositions,
The lengths people will go through to make acquisitions,
includes tales of work and corporate compensations,
when deep down it is the "Johnny Syndrome" set in
motion to cause corruption and defamation,
Why do folks assume that unmarried women need to
be controlled?
Does being married mean many women have sold their souls?
or are husbands really "Johns" in disguise,
Our changing world is proving to be not so nice......