Long Confessed Poems

Long Confessed Poems. Below are the most popular long Confessed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Confessed poems by poem length and keyword.


Ah Tis Nothing Greater Than

Ah... tis nothing greater than...
malfunctioning heater on brisk winter day!

Thee particular date being
December twenty eighth,
two thousand nineteen, I saith
the Jack of all trades
maintenance technician

Kevin Blank said he would notify
HVAC expert in good faith,
yet to compliment clangorous din...
I called upon the ghost of Marley's wraith.

Thus despite compressor issuing
cacophonous, deafening,
ear splitting noise
clattering din louder
than convention of reindeer - 
doubled as all boys

(choir) followed by cavalcade
of santa claus, he employs,
the missus of course with equipoise,
and countless elves pressed
for service mending
broken brand new toys.

Why... yes twas during
recent brutal bitter cold spell
methought, yours truly got sent,
where absolute zero temperature
more frigid than hell

of course, I felt like human popsicle
management didn't give a lick,
no matter yours truly gave rebel yell
Billy me you, I immediately
yearned (some weeks back) for April
May, June... some tell
tale sign to alleviate pell mell

bone crushing polar vortex
preserved frozen awful
botox smile impossible mission to quell,
nor avoid frostbite 
to deep freeze every cell
millenniums later despite
climate changed dystopian future
thawed out body reason to kvell.

Forsooth mindlessly jabbering away
jaw frenziedly attempting to convey
how this schlemiel,
would be war re: not game to foray
toward distant forbidding terrain
fifty shades of gray,
alien unrecognizable – nay

boor hood of the late Mister Rogers,
nonetheless expressed gratitude
confessed, I unconsciously did pray
while suspended animation did stay

slowing or stopping
of biological function
physiological capabilities
unpitted and preserved - yea.

Hence upon being
and getting woke
feeling like I slept forever
and a day - no joke
most certainly well rested

constitution I did evoke
intensely scrutinizing men
chilled wren, and women folk,
who appeared out of this world
mutated into Roanoke
smooth as glass skin cloak

against ultraviolet rays
causing skin cancer
their attenuated limbs strong as oak
versatile to prod and poke,
whereby superior petsmart
doggone noggin could invoke

telepathic communication
interestingly enough issuing smoke
signals, whenever danger present
and capable to disappear
as if doing breast stroke.


The Witch Hunter.

let every old woman with a wrinkled face,
she should be aware,she lives in disgrace,
a furrowed brow,hairy lip and single tooth,
know me well,i'll get the truth.
a squinty eye and scolding tongue,
the squeaky voice she's had from very young,
you will never hide from me,
i'm the witch hunter general you see.
my name shall be feared throughout this land,
my hunting of witches will go as planned,
first you'll be tossed into a cell,
stripped naked and starved,until you tell.
i'll start to prick to cause you pain,
and i'll do it over and over again,
then you'll be bound to stool or table,
cross legged of course,even if you're not able.
after twenty four hours the cramps will set in,
again poked and prodded,but i'll use a new pin,
you'll then walk the stones til your feet bleed,
still i reckon you don't get to feed.
then you're taken for a swim in the lake,
your baptism water you didn't take,
if you're innocent you will drowned,
but if you sink a true witch i've found.
this cruelty wasn't enough,mathew got no kicks,
a new style was developed,it only took two ticks,
he bent victims double,tied thumb to big toe,
a rope round the waist,in the water they'd go.
these people were worn down by his torturous way,
but hopkins was going to have his say,
one question he used in the brow beating session,
you're aquainted with the devil,i want a confession.
a nod or monosyllabic reply will do the trick,
or my man will beat you again with the stick,
then poor john lowes,a suffolk minister of note,
was told you're a witch,i can tell by your coat,
a quarrelsome gent of seventy was poor john,
disliked by many,they wanted him gone,
hopkins took the task to prove he was right,
john was kept awake for many a day and a night.
they ran him till he was out of breath,
he was weary, and scared half to death,
so he confessed to get some peace,
then the torturous pain would cease.
hopkins said"another one i didn't let survive",
john went to the scaffold august 1645,
no cleargy would read for him at his grave,
a villager said"to the devil john was no slave".
who knows how many poor sould were lost,
letting hopkins rule,had it's own cost,
more than 200 people this way met their fate,
by the time hopkins hit norfolk,it was too late.
his trials of blood passed through our countryside,
in his work mathew  hopkins took great pride.
Form: Verse

Wishing Just Isn'T Enough Anymore

I wish love was enough.
I thought it was enough, how stupid could I be? 
But what I thought was love is now just a distant memory.
One that got the best of me.
 
It took away my thoughts, my days, and my nights.
Hell, a lot of the time it even took away my apitite.
I lost focus, sleep, and a good grip on the real world.
I was blinded from everything and protected by nothing.
For a while I was stupid enough to believe the lies my heart had told.
 
I thought your hugs said it all,
but now that I can recall, your kiss tasted like diaster.
Now that I've tamed my heart, my emotions are no longer my master.
I had always thought we'd be together one day in perfect harmony,
I realize now that all your words were just lies you fed to me.
 
I thought I was your 'Ride or Die' but now you call me a whore,
I don't even know who you are anymore.
I've been fed lie after lie- I'll call you out on every one, I'm not shy.
So you say you love me, what's your name again?
Why should I believe you, your credbility is a zero out of ten.
 
Don't act like I should feel sorry for you, because I don't.
If I'm the only thing in your pathetic life going right,
shouldn't you try to keep me happy with all your might?
I used to be blinded by the thought of forever, but now you've opened my eyes
    up to see, I don't need you for me to be happy with me.
 
When we fought and I caved, I'd come back and cry "I'm sorry babe, I love you"
Now that I've finally caught you in your lies, you want to say "I'm sorry baby and I love you too"
I used to be blinded by your role,
but I pray for you now because sometimes wishing isn't enough to save a soul.
 
What I thought was love got the better part of me.
But now I'm glad that my heart has made me see
You messed up and I hope you know it; no one will ever love you like I thought I did.
Not even your own kid.
 
Yeah, I know my words hurt, but yours did too.
You lied everytime you said "I love you boo".
At least I'm the one here who has always confessed or told the truth,
I'm so sick of you now I just want to knock out your every single tooth.
 
I used to be blinded by love, 
But now that I'm not, I'm as peaceful as a dove.
I hope these words hurt, and if they do it means I've done my job right.
I'm okay about losing you without a fight.
And to be honest? I'll sleep better from now on at night.

Premium Member The Lord Be Thanked For Our Revival

The Lord be thanked for our revival* by His compassion of loving kindness 
Indeed forgiving our confessed iniquities as well as our sinfulness
Since He sanctifies us to walk along paths of righteousness
And guards us from human nature’s tempting weakness.

The Lord ensures our revival for us to stay strong in His triumphant might
Indeed smiting our vain arrogance to yield to His sovereignty’s height
Since He reproves our disobedience so we strive to do what’s right
And upholds us in walking by faith along His light.

The Lord listens to our pleas for revival, making us truly Spirit-filled
Indeed hearing our supplications that causes us to be soul-stilled
Since He deals with us, correcting our being self-willed
And teaches us to submit to Him, blessedly-thrilled.

The Lord grants revival toward zealous kingdom advancement
Indeed working in our spirituality by His empowerment
Since He saved us from hell’s grievous endangerment
And granted us life eternal with grace-endowment.

The Lord enables our revival toward sharing Gospel story
Indeed reminding us to love whom He loves for His great glory
Since He leads us through His Word toward sure victory
And moves us to abide in His will’s perfect territory.

The Lord propels our revival to fulfill the Great Commission without delay
Indeed helping us bring the lost to the Saviour -  the truth, life, and way 
Since He wants us to become enthusiastic soulwinners as we do pray
And keeps us involved in church ministries while in His will we stay. 

The Lord sustains our revival-joy by His constant admonition and instruction
Indeed perfecting us toward Christlikeness along character-transformation
Since He delights in our glad worship midst faithful stewardship-function  
And cheers us in our good works’ perseverance for His exaltation. 

*Isaiah 57:15 For thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy; I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones.


October 31, 2021
For the culmination of the 31 days of Revival Worship Services
from October 1 to 31, 2021 - enabled by the great God Almighty - hosted by
the Christian Bible Baptist Church, City of San Pedro, Laguna, Philippines
Form: Rhyme

Four Trees Toppling Over the Dirty River

I escaped to a quite place to meditate
But as soon as I got there an old man in a red cap  
with a wretched look on his face  invaded my quiet space
I have noticed him  perpetually prowling around the park
with his long range professional camera shooting from the dark
Today my spirit got  crossed and I came face to face with him
I labeled him a stalker but he quickly denied and
and confessed that he was a habitual bird watcher
I felt a sudden vexation brewing  and with deep sorrows inside 
I took my bible and  sat on the damp grass and
read a psalms from the depth of my heart.
The rain  came down suddenly wetting the pages in my bible
And forcing the bird watcher to close his  despised windows
His conscience started screaming at him  and in a few
minutes he hurried away from that place.
Something compelled me to leave that spot too
so I rode my bike along  the wet trail  leading to a  muddy course
and a man riding in the opposite direction crossed my  path
I  attempted to get off my bike to let him pass 
but he said aloud "I will  ride in the muddy part"
As soon as I reach around the tired bend
I pounced upon a sign which reads
 "road under construction, closed"
The broken swampy road perishing from inside 
with heavy equipment blocking the route kept everyone away
I felt extremely happy
I parked my bike along  the broken track and walked on
a board that connects both trail and continued on the track
I kept walking until my spirit led me to a peculiar  place
A tree  on the river  bank with roots swelling out of the ground
with no soil to cover it's body and veins running all around
caught my attention
I made my way into the bushes 
and sat on the root with my bare feet dangling
above the slow moving water and  flat rocks gazing at me
as if they have something urgent to show me
I kept looking all around still there was nothing to be found
But right in front  of me the hidden mystery was staring directly at me
There it was in living proof five trees standing on the  river bank
four trees leaning over the river  in a cluster
with one almost  falling  to the ground
But the fifth tree separated  from  the cluster was standing upright
looking healthy and strong  sucking up the energy from the four falling ones
I  photograph the living  image of the four trees
collapsing over the big dirty river.
Form: Narrative


Premium Member Am I Vexed, No

Am I Vexed? No!

Am I vexed to face music? We both are ‘same sex.’
It’s beyond man to fathom the depth of man’s soul
though perhaps a computer (imagined) might spin
all the dreams love might share, why sun’s rainbows arch backs
like a cat, or why butterflies pinned in a box make us dream
we still see them in flight when collection’s their death!

Does a nugget that’s ripped from quartz crystal’s complex
miss the death of its parent, the star it was born of, feel toll
paid by hydrogen gas, that birthed star? Does gold win
that can plumb all the times it has filled a heart’s cracks!
Love grows colder confessed, that’s unable to stream
what heart wants? I’ll denounce this until my last breath!

Am I vexed we’ve both wives with whom each shares his bed,
one eternity’s hourglass suffices such friends?
Let me speak for myself and not dare to presume
who you love, but has love yet been born that is meek?
If you can, tell me please how such love can be love (so restrained),
not erupt in hot rhymes, or ice flows of free verse?

You think tides (moon might raise), or earth’s seasons reverse
(on the axis of globe knocked-off kelter), mean love’s time-constrained?
Is love full strength, or is it diluted; will squeak,
has a voice known to roar? Care can stay in the room
(if there’s good news or bad), gives short shrift to loose ends!
Our time’s brief on this earth! Save love’s honor for Dead?

Brian Johnston
29th of September in 2020
Poet’s Notes:
    Craig Wilson is one of my oldest and dearest friends! We first met in
the US Peace Corps teaching 12th Form students at the Sultan Abu Bakar
Secondary School in Kuantan, Malaysia, from 1968-1970. Craig taught
Biology and I taught Physics. Craig gave his class, and mine, a three-day
sex education class (that was not in the Malaysian Syllabus!) near the end
of our two-year PC commitment. Ha!
    My friend and I are both getting ‘long in the tooth!’ I’m five years older,
but our contemporaries are becoming fewer in number. I thought, why
should I wait to write Craig a love poem? I might easily pass before him,
and I am so proud to say that I love Craig, a man, period! May the heaven
(that I hope for) or the reincarnation (he dreams of) mean eternities loom
ahead for us both, though I’m (certainly?) far more ‘Right’ than Craig is!
Form: Rhyme

I Love Forgiveness

 It begins at home
even closer: it begins "I"nside
I have forgiven failures, failing in faith, inside me
Have you? Until you do, it is almost too hard
To forgive your imperfect parent, and therefore Father-in-Heaven
Lest it seems, I speak ordinary, old, old-fashioned sermon or speech
"Remember Mandela, South Africa, TRC? I was there!"
While billions only speak it, I have to live it
I did not want to; Mandela (OUR BELOVED MADIBA) made it policy
In the bad old South Africa, poisoned by a white Minority, 300 years
Still wanting NOT to share anything today; but we must for ourselves
And for Jesus (or for Mandela, or for Gandhi: both graced South Africa)

Yes, I have grown to love Forgiveness and Reconciliation in my heart
There it must begin, or it cannot come out into this bloody world
From the blood pump inside you, pure Jesus lineage can overflow
Once the mind and heart come into agreement, concord, one accord
(That's what happened at the Pentecost that birthed Christ's Church -
When the disciples, dreading death after Jesus's Crucifixion, locked doors
In the Upper Room, in Jerusalem, tarrying still: Fire in Holy Spirit fell!)
The Holy Spirit tells me to love like Jesus and Mother Theresa (now Saint)
Love till it hurts (and once hurt like that, NOTHING will ever hurt you & me)
I forgive because I see the forgiveness of Jesus (What does it mean? Sins?)
LOVE may begin in sin; but it flies with eagle wings, near the SON, forgiven
We reconcile with the Parent Above; who is really everywhere, doctrines do
not tell us all, only a start: God loved and offered reconciliation, but Truth
Demands we confess: I was a dirty, dastardly sinner, until He washed me
In the pure, precious blood of a Perfect Man, High-Priest after Melchizadek

So, dear brother and sister, I do not list sins to make you mad
That is only to assure YOU the Jesus way: Confess, Receive Grace, Live Free
TRC in RSA: TRUTH and Reconciliation (& Commission Under Archbishop Tutu)
Said anyone, white or black, who confessed their murders and sins
Would not be taken to court; only one was (Wouter Basson)
A whole nation forgave the white Minority under Mandela's mighty mandate
To Love and forgive like Jesus, for BIGGER things: like saving a country
From the kind of civil wars that rage on and on, fed by hate, all about US
© Anil Deo  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY FAITHFULNESS' ASSESSOR

November 24 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Colossians 1-2

Key Verse – Colossians 1:2 To the saints and faithful brethren in Christ which are at Colosse: Grace be unto you, and peace, from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY FAITHFULNESS’ ASSESSOR

Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor, 
always hearing my sincere thanksgiving
Thank You for acknowledging my hope inspired by Your Word I’m receiving
Never ignoring me and my fruits along grace-filled living
Ever consistent to encourage me to learn from You with earnest cleaving.

Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor, 
always sanctifying my proud heart’s fame
Thank You for purging my soul from worldly game
Never tolerating me along my selfish frame
Ever holy to forgive me and my confessed hypocrisy-shame.

Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor, 
always instilling my desire with spiritual understanding
Thank You for increasing my knowledge by Your worthy attending
Never denying me of Your power with strength You are sending
Ever patient to prop me toward steadfast righteous standing.

Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor, 
always conquering my doubt by Your assurance
Thank You for guarding my conviction against beguiling ignorance
Never belittling me along my diligent service-perseverance
Ever gracious to establish me for Your abounding kingdom’s furtherance.

Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor, 
always commending my noble suffering
Thank You for meeting my needs with Your compassionate caring
Never closing to me opportunities to gain from Your wisdom-rearing
Ever helpful to transform me according to Your Scriptures’ nurturing.

Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor, 
always protecting my beliefs against vain tradition
Thank You for shielding my commitment from humanistic domination
Never allowing me to be spoiled by arrogance-magnification
Ever kind to cheer me up for my offerings and sacrifice of devotion.

Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor, 
always accepting my worship marked by sincerity
Thank You for nourishing my submission to Your sovereign authority
Never handling me with rudeness, but by Your loving security
Ever merciful to lift me up against affliction and infirmity.

November 24, 2023
Form: Rhyme

Alone Upon This Halloween Scene(A Fictional Tale)

Stepping out into the Autumn night of Halloween
It is the Witches and the Warlocks turn to dance
Their air of mystery and mystic is all around
The zombies or the Undead cannot speak
but,their presence seems to be abound
Ghouls of the Men
Vampires within the Ladie's evil grin
It is out here on this Night
When old wives tale frighten us with delight
My footsteps carry me beyond the hill
A cemetery there which omits a deathly thrill
We(meaning a friendly spirit beside me)know the Cackle
Inside many tomb,ready to come out like a babe from its mother's womb
The moon is full and the Old Man paints his smile
Trick or treaters are out,,having fun for a little while
Tonight all Halo as strange yellow mist creeps from behind a boulder narrow
Dancing amidst the moaning dead,darkened shadows surround this timid Head
I feel like Ichabod Crane,strolling,with terror,upon the Midnight Domain
Ghosties
Goblins
Maybe the old Headless Horseman
Perhaps,the wretched creature of a certain Frankenstein
Many of these apparitions could be just a figment or Reality having a smile
The Corridor of the dark as I wander through a deserted Schoolyard park
An evil happened there,just a few moons not  long ago
Halloween Night..1980 when I was ten
A grade schooler was being hazed upon
He was locked in a decrepit old trunk,tucked,not so sweetly away,in the attic of 
this old place..his peers left him for the night

They came back the next morning before the session began
after lifting a set of keys from the sleeping janitor,they went up to the attic to see
The trunk was open,HOW COULD HE HAVE GOTTEN OUT??
tip-toeing near the open trunk and peering down with trepidation..
only to find,a bloody handwritten note,written with EXTREME AGITATION

It said:YOU LOCKED ME AWAY BEFORE YOU DECIDED TO PLAY
BUT..I WILL COME BACK UPON THIS LAND AND MY VENGENCE WILL HAVE 
HIS FINAL SAY!!

The school was beset by this horrible deed,and it was closed forevermore 
because the children confessed and the Pain would never recede
some say..the spirit of the little lad still haunts the old school
Laughter could be heard if many,who dare,decide to explore it and play it cool

Pardon me,my weary Halloween reader..it is TIME for me to head back before
I become no more,by an ominous Night Creeper(or the Ghost of The Attic Child!!)
© Bart Jonas  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Narrative

King Henry Viii and His Wives

King Henry VIII and His Wives 

By Elton Camp

When Henry’s brother was too young to care
He was made to wed a princess from over there
But you must do just what we say little fella,
Catherine's the child of Ferdinand and Isabella

Catherine had not been Queen for very long
When things with her mate went badly wrong
Medicine was weak. To save him, doctors tried
But despite all they did her young prince died

With Spain, England had a pact
The agreement must stay intact
Henry was then a child of eleven
Hardly a betrothal made in heaven

Henry married at age eighteen
And Catherine became his queen.
Though it is quite sad to have to tell
The queen’s babies didn’t fare well

To bring her husband true joy
She must give birth to a boy
She bore him just a single son
Who died before a year had run

Though married for twenty-four years,
Henry gave voice to his greatest fears
“I have married the wife of my brother
When I should have waited for another.”

But he said this with a sly grin
While he kissed Anne Boyeln
She refused to go to his bed
Until the two were set to wed

Anne produced a baby right away
But ‘twas a girl to Henry’s dismay.
He thought she had done a crime
When both babies died next time

“I’ve been down this road before.
It’s clear you are just a whore.”
No more shall you see my bed.
Rather, you will lose your head.

Jane Seymour was next on the list
So that Anne was scarcely missed
From Jane, virtuous and fair,
There came at last a male heir

Infection was the reason why
The queen proceeded to die
Henry at her death was distraught
But the new child filled his thought

Anne of Cleves was next to arrive
Had a problem, managed to survive.
Henry found he didn’t like her well
“This German woman is ugly as hell.”

The next queen to unfurl
Was just a teenage girl
Catherine Howard was her name
But she was not free from blame

Culpepper was her boyfriend
She had confessed at the end
And unlike the wives before
This one truly was a whore

Catherine Parr became wife six
She did not try to use any tricks
To her, duty came above
Even the man she did love

Of this bad background cannot be any doubt 
It is how the Church of England came about.
Who of the people could expect to be a winner
By adhering to a religion formed by a sinner?
© Elton Camp  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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