Long Confidants Poems
Long Confidants Poems. Below are the most popular long Confidants by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Confidants poems by poem length and keyword.
I most enjoy gloomy afternoons outside
While the rest of the world hides away
These foggy Sunday evenings lost and in love with my solitude
The scent of rain, cold air, decaying leaves and pine
Mist falling lightly against my face
The feeling that this little magic is mine
A quiet moment in the woods, us birds meditating on the song of the wind that surrounds us
I don't feel the icy grip of winter
I carry enough warmth with me in my heart I do not need a shelter
I grow bored with walls and every other aspect of life that threatens to contain me
I need wide open sky to remind me that my life is small
So that my dreams will remain large
I do not want to give up my longings
I want to stay out all night on a cold river back by the fire
Just me and the moon
Don't ask him my secrets he will never tell you
I choose my confidants wisely
The stars will only gossip amongst themselves , they respect my sovereignty
Together we all sit quietly
Meditating on the song of the winds that surrounds us
This little magic
All mine
This is ANDERSON WALKINGSHOES...
The Sage world:
Chorus:
OH.. Hooo...
That sage has been sitting there for many days.
He could see every event,
But his silence is causing harm.
At every minute there's a killing.
OH yeaaaah...
Chorus:
OH.. Hooo...
That sage has been sitting there for many days.
He could see every event,
But his silence is causing harm.
At every minute there's a killing.
OH yeaaaah...
VERSE 1:
He's very receptive,
Looks extremely objective.
And never regarded as a fugitive.
He's a mighty man equipped by wisdom.
But the judgement on him is insensitive.
He prefers self reliance without boredom,
As his world is shaped by ruth,
And few considers to dwell in.
A world he set to spread truth.
His own confidants wished they jailed him.
Chorus:3 368
OH.. Hooo...
That sage has been sitting there for many days.
He could see every event,
But his silence is causing harm.
At every minute there's a killing.
OH yeaaaah...
Chorus:
OH.. Hooo...
That sage has been sitting there for many days.
He could see every event,
But his silence is causing harm.
At every minute there's a killing.
OH yeaaaah...
VERSE 2:
All his statements holds a mileage.
And his actions are well managed.
Frankly,he's done no wrong.
Yet, political potency took off his tongue.
Many people insinuated his action was based on denied bung,
Since he stood against corruptible stance.
So he was looked askance.
Making the sage create his own world,
Out of comprehensive swirl.
A world where he now dwells alone,
Enriched to divinely atone.
And now his former nation keeps to bemoan,
Whiles the sage has already forgiven them of their wrong.
Welcome to the sage world!
Chorus:
OH.. Hooo...
That sage has been sitting there for many days.
He could see every event,
But his silence is causing harm.
At every minute there's a killing.
OH yeaaaah...
Chorus:
OH.. Hooo...
That sage has been sitting there for many days.
He could see every event,
But his silence is causing harm.
At every minute there's a killing.
OH yeaaaah...
Chorus:
OH.. Hooo...
That sage has been sitting there for many days.
He could see every event,
But his silence is causing harm.
At every minute there's a killing.
OH yeaaaah...
This is ANDERSON WALKINGSHOES...
We sat on a quiet porch by moonlight splashed,
Wrapped in a static of faint cicada song,
Watching a horizon by city lights sashed,
On sultry summer nights by lithe pixies thronged.
Bossa nova rhythms rippled lukewarm air,
Languid voices tiptoed in solacing calm,
Confidants whispering of the bronzed and fair,
Of sunlit sand they crooned a sun-lilted psalm.
Abducted we were by Jobim, Gilberto,
To a land swaying with the promise of June.
Those were the years we crowed with youth’s falsetto,
Blithely singing along, slightly out of tune.
- Inspired by the song “Desafinado (Out of Tune)” 1962 -
She fell into the sea on a warm spring day where clouds were thick.
Her parents tried to rescue her but she disappeared good and quick.
Traveling down to the depths of the sea in a whale’s warm mouth.
The whale knew she was being abused at home by father, a louse.
So he rescued her like his own daughter, raised her up on the coral reef.
Took her to the surface often to breathe, living here was a huge relief.
She thrived in the sea which took away her pain and helped her to trust again.
The sea creatures became her family, confidants, neighbors and friends.
She was encouraged to reinvent herself, so she gave herself a new name.
For now that she was being loved and nurtured, she was forgetting her pain.
She was Aryanna, the maiden of the clear blue ocean and vast deep blue sea.
She was empathetic and as gentle to the turtles and fish as she could ever be.
She became happier and more trusting every day,
Decided to officially turn into a mermaid with fins, deciding to stay.
Sea was overjoyed had loved her since discovering her at the age of three.
She is waiting to help others, in the prettiest part of the deep blue sea.
What wonderful gifts I have, in the form of my close friends
Ones who will never allow me to break when I start to bend
Nothing I say or do is so terrible that it would tear us apart
Dearest of all are the friendships that live deep in my heart
Everlasting is the strong bond of the love we share together
Real friends always support me and not just in fair weather
Forgiving of my many flaws, true buddies will dry my tears
Under devoted protection, confidants drive away my fears
Life is full of laughter because of friends I've had for years
=================
January 4th, 2016
Acrostic Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Slam poetry evening
Offended
Leave now
In fact why have you come
If this is not for you
Or do you 2 wish to slam
And are here looking for a muse
To abuse or accuse
To ignite your fuse
Try walking in other's shoes
So contrite
I write what bite's
I spew like devil's flu
Over and under you
I slam
That of which I give a damn
I compress like a powder keg
I challenge you to think ahead
I am what keeps you awake in bed
I am an dystopia future
I lie beneath the key's of your computer
That the ouigie move's
And your feet steers
I am what's lurching in the rear mirror
I am your fear's
The shivers that chill down your spine
I am the crossed line
An anomaly
Slamming brain matter pulsating vein's
Allowing your innermost thoughts to flow
Without self control
No longer shy truth not lie
I could fry for divulging the slam
Loose my friends and confidants
For the sake of mistaking poetry for art
But if freedom and release
Is what I seek
Then on this day
Havoc wreak
I stand on fickle hoarded stage
And read my words from tortured page
And rage against my weapons
With dotted crosses
Ironing out the botches
With scalpel and shale beach rocks
And feel the chill of deafening frost
Nothing lost
Nothing ventured
Friendship mended
Slam ended
Can't even tell you
Why or even if I penned this
Or meant it
The sentiment is endless
For the reader to bend it
Sorry but I felt duty bound to send this
I honestly recommend it
Slam me back
Call me an old hack
Its the only way of keeping track
Or shelling the flack
Otherwise i will keep coming back
More black and blank
With no 1 to thank
And you can take that to the food bank
The world feeds on tragedy, with an insatiable hunger for misfortune,
They demand confessions, not out of care, but to dissect and devour the soul,
When I reveal my pain, their eyes become glassy with disgust,
And their pity drips like acid on my open and bleeding wounds.
Perhaps that's why I've made my sadness a "nameless grave,"
A place I visit alone, away from prying eyes,
Where no one can turn my pain into a fleeting spectacle,
Where silence weaves veils over memories and unshed tears.
There, in the dark silence, I bury my sufferings one by one,
Away from eyes that wish to turn my story into a show,
I have found a sanctuary where the echoes of pain are my silent confidants,
And only shadows keep me company in this dance of lost souls.
It is a place where I can breathe without feeling the weight of curious gazes,
A space where pain is not a phenomenon but a part of me,
A corner of the world where silence whispers solace and secrets,
And where, ultimately, I learn to embrace my own darkness.
She fell into the sea on a warm spring day where clouds were thick.
Her parents tried to rescue her but she disappeared good and quick.
Traveling down to the depths of the sea in a whale’s warm mouth.
The whale knew she was being abused at home by father, a louse.
He rescued her like his own daughter, raised her up on the coral reef.
Took her to the surface often to breathe, living here was a huge relief.
The nurturing sea took away her pain and helped her to trust again.
Creatures became her family, confidants, neighbors and friends.
Encouraged to reinvent herself, she gave herself a new name.
She was being loved and nurtured, forgetting her human pain.
Aryanna, the maiden of the clear blue ocean and vast deep blue sea.
Empathetic and gentle to the turtles and fish as she could ever be.
She who had been rescued, became more trusting every day,
Turned into a mermaid with fins. Traded in her limbs, deciding to stay.
Overjoy sea had loved her since discovering her at age of three.
She is waiting to help every child in the prettiest part of the deep sea.
Being born in the Year of the Monkey did not affect me at all
Except I love surprising, tricking and playing with people.
Trees are my favorite places to be and I hang upside down often.
I like the chitter chatter of lunchrooms, so I guess I was wrong.
It affected me a tiny bit.
I am child-like, not childish, but some people do not understand.
The other ones who were born in the Year of the Monkey do.
They are my most avid fans, playmates, and confidants.
We gravitate toward each other, speaking of silly, fun things.
Banana and peanut butter pancakes? Me too! Me too!
You loved the Curious George books? Oh, yes,
And the man in the yellow hat. We resonate with each other.
We are the jokesters, the players, the thrill-seekers.
We are the ones born in the Year of the Monkey
And we all do it well with a sense of fun.
I no longer walk barefoot through this garden of forgotten time,
where the grass, once the silk of summer, now scratches my soles with memories,
here, in this enchanted soil, bloomed a flower that stole my soul,
an earthbound spell transformed into petals that sang to the touch.
Perhaps someone, a faceless traveler, came and stole it away,
leaving only the echo of their footsteps in the corners of my silent garden,
and I, left as a guardian of the waters, hold in my hands springs of longing,
that were meant to nourish its life, to lift its song to the sky.
Now, however, I no longer walk barefoot through this sanctuary of lost dreams,
the grass, once a caress of the wind, now cuts deep like the blade of a past,
and every corner of the garden bears the weight of an unspoken mystery,
a murmur left from times when the flowers were my confidants.
In this silence, I weave my thoughts with the threads of the grass,
seeking answers in the shadow of footsteps that vanished at dawn,
and I wonder if I will ever find that enchanted flower again,
or if I will remain just a keeper of water and bygone tales.