Long Confirms Poems
Long Confirms Poems. Below are the most popular long Confirms by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Confirms poems by poem length and keyword.
I the ordinary human being of flesh-and-blood,
Rise from vital self, like a flower blooming from the bud;
Make my inner self to extend its hold far from mundane,
And grow, like rosewood, tall toward the deep divine domain...
Crossing boundaries, I talk to God and to his angels,
Feeling blood of the divine flowing through my veins and cells;
Ego destroyed; soul serving the other; time and space gone,
Consciousness confirms its passage from known to the unknown...
These, yet, do not happen in abstract, like roots in the air,
Truth of my being turns transparent as crystal glass-ware;
An earnest feeling to find meaning, like mushroom, gets sprung,
Truths of God and humanity dawn like sun's shining tongue...
My desire for reaching out to others, like strong thirst, grows,
Strength and energy into self-giving stream overflows;
Puzzles and riddles of existence I soon realize,
Toward gaining goal of life all my zeal I channelize...
Emotions that splashed once like uncontrolled lava mountains,
Flow, now, like cool streams steady from flawless fluent fountains;
Morals, binding my heart-and-soul, like well-knit fine fiber,
Make me fly above from all bondage, higher and higher...
10 January 2022
This or That, Vol 9 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Despondent, she stares at the mirror,
hoping to see the girl of her youth.
And yet, aging has weathered her skin,
and the sun's harsh light confirms the truth.
Wrinkles, masked by a coat of makeup,
she touches up, whatever's peeling.
And the false face staring back at her
reflects the distress she is feeling.
A dab of powder fills in crow's feet,
a rosy rouge brings her cheekbones back.
And the bags under her eyes get smoothed,
while mascara lashes are brushed black.
Red lips complete the porcelain doll,
while all her blemishes disappear.
And once more, she transforms her image;
hiding years behind a thin veneer.
We shouldn’t have gotten a shed
For I’m sure you can guess where it’s led -
Saving things we don’t need;
With it gone, guaranteed,
We’d throw things in the garbage instead.
Now the mice have a place they can hide
When it’s freezing or raining outside.
They leave droppings behind
Which, of course, I will find
And I can’t seem to take it in stride.
I should simply just clean the shed out
For there isn’t the tiniest doubt
That the things I have saved
Make me look quite depraved,
Which confirms what this poem is about.
*PoetrySoup would not let me include the apostrophe
in the word Shouldn’t!
Truth drowns in pixels, one click at a time
While falsehoods spread faster than summer wildfire
We scroll and we swipe, consuming the lies
Each share button pressed makes deception rise higher
They dress it in headlines that scream to be read
Package poison in posts that are perfectly spread
Algorithm-approved, bot-amplified.
Until, fiction feels realer than what's verified
"Did you hear?" they whisper, through fiber optic veins
"They're hiding the truth!" – paranoia reigns
Conspiracy theorists spin tales in the night
While fact-checkers chase them with diminishing light
We're all guilty here, in this game that we play.
Forwarding fragments without checking the way
It's easier to believe what confirms what we know
Than to question the sources of info we show
In this echo chamber, we're losing our way.
Where deep-fakes dance and truth starts to sway
Each viral story builds walls in our minds
Until we can't see past the lies we're behind
But listen;
There's power in pausing before we proceed
In asking "Who profits from making me believe?"
In remembering wisdom isn't found in a feed
And truth isn't measured by how fast we speed
So let's break these chains of digital deceit
Face uncomfortable facts, make knowledge complete
'Cause the real revolution isn't sharing the lie
But standing in truth when the world asks us "Why?"
Now tell me –
What stories are you letting define your sight?
What whispers of falsehood keep you up at night?
The truth may be harder, but it sets us free
From the beautiful prison of what we wish could be
When we open our hearts to each other we allow grace to enter. It is as simple as that. And suffering — events that break open the heart — can become the refiner's fire that leaves us fully open to the truth about love and compassion. — Kathleen A. Brehony in Ordinary Grace
When the sun rises across the hills, coloring dreams
In beautiful – that’s grace
When the rain falls gentle from the clouds,
Erasing the silence, whispering promises – that’s grace
When laughter shadows the darkest doubt,
Writing hope on the heart, - that’s grace
When poetry prays from starlit skies, lighting the moments
With tenderness, a smile, a second chance – that’s grace
When dusk is alive with fireflies, glistening in the night,
Dancing like autumn leaves or the dandelion seeds
Who waft over the memories – that’s grace
When rhythms of giggles fall from the ears blessed
By young children, those who play like tomorrow
Is a promise – that’s grace
When feelings stir up so much joy that silence
Feels like the sun washing away all the lonely ache,
- That’s grace!
When the mist moves, unspoken, over the spirit
Rustling, gentling every breath – a prayer said,
Quivering among the pines and laurels – that is grace
When the rainbow soothes away every doubt,
A promise made – a promise kept – that’s grace
When the music of hope confirms the joy inside,
Singing encouragement to the soul – that is grace
When the truth is a place that remembers to believe,
Inside where the heart needs to see, to complete
Every need, there is only faith, belief – that is grace
When the sun stirs the spirit to a place of complete peace,
And every feeling within brings elation, appreciation
For the caress of the breeze, falling lovingly – that is grace
When the cerulean sky erases every uncertainty,
Declaring the heavens are a place for amity, dreams
Coming out, beneath the shadows, serenity – that’s grace
Heed the beautiful, the miracles, the wonders of a moment,
The heavenly, the spiritual, the blessed who will all agree
Tomorrow is not promised, but the hope of eternity – that is grace
Just believe – believe and see, recognize the reality – that’s grace
Just believe, just believe… that is grace! It will forever be –
The greatest blessing God could give to you and me!
Come with me
Solace of the Tanami
Under a blistering
Midday sun
Silent crescent moon
Nothing murmurs
No living thing moves
Except
Shimmering heat haze
A far-off willy willy
Twisting its dirty funnel
Further and higher
Into the quiet
Never never
Not even a crow call
To break this silence
Silent solace
Standing in quiet
On this low hill
Am in a silent dream
The last thing alive
Apart from movement
And silence
Silent desert sky
Can I hear
Or feel
The sweat
Trickling
Down my brow
My cheek
Rhythmic beat
Of my heart
Warm breath
I suck in
And let out
It’s as if
Movement and silence
Are one
The distant willy willy
Confirms
Silence in movement
As does the silent
Shimmering heat haze
Against the deafening
Desert sky
The storm
To the far north
Flashing and sparking
In total silence
My shadow
Moves silently with me
No haste
The horizon
Always there
Ahead
Moving forward
In silent grace
The ancient wood is this way
Look there is a sign
This old house and it's grounds are open to the public
Most of the time
What's made us shut the gates
What's made us keep the public away
It's present in the dark wood
That's all I have to say
The old gates have rusted iron
Yet, they do not squeak
The track into the wood is eerie
But we'll go and take a peek
Stop, look there in the dell
There, sat on the stump
A man sat in battle dress
From centuries ago
He's eating some food
Let's go have a word
Excuse me sir I didn't know
That a battle day it is
He looks at us confused and low
Yes, battles what it is
Please sir, do tell who your commanding officer is and where he can be found
He's way over on the other field, just off the battle ground
Did your enemy come to his knees in the battle fought?
Enemy was our countrymen who disobeyed the law
One more question sir before you go back on the battlefield
What year is this and who is your King or Queen?
You fool, you see the boots I wear, the sword of steel I carry
The year is 1644, Charles is my King, I'm needed at the front
You say that you've killed your countrymen, is that where you now go?
He turns and stands and looks at us, then starts to walk back.
He stops and stares and then with a smile
He confirms his role in death
Then turns and walks into the wood
Disappearing without a trace.
You know that monitor that confirms the diagnosis of cardiac asystole, which is
lack of electrical activity in the heart
That's what your absence at first caused me to be
I didn't know there was a name for the way I felt
I just knew it was now something I would continuously have to face day in and day out until there was nothing left to think about
I didn't get many choices with how to deal this nightmare from hell
Even years after the initial heart shattering news
I still find it hard to just be ok with the fact we lost you
These days, I don't talk about you a lot
But when I do, it still makes me angry and sad
But I'm mainly hurt because it's been 881 days since you left, and I still feel just as bad
It's a shame, but it's the truth
I hate that I will forever just get to miss you
You know that feeling when you are watching a movie or reading a book and
looking forward to the ending and how that may look
I don't
You won't be there
Your ending happened prematurely
Because something bigger than us
Needed your light a little early
All the pictures I have of you, you look so young
Those were years ago, and
That's how you will be remembered
for years to come
But that hurts. Just the thought alone sucks.
That's it
There are no new pics.
Just old ones that are collecting dust
I hate these everlasting waves of grief
I am trying to ride them, but somedays I just feel too weak.
I only allow myself 10 minutes to weep.
Then, it's back to compartmentalizing all this grief.
I have faced it, well, 75% and I will continue to do so until the last breath from these lungs escapes my chest
I have to choose to focus on living and not your death
I will always take time to think about you, even if I need a box of tissues when I do.
Love you forever, past the moon.
I hope they love and appreciate you as much as the rest of us did here and do.
They would watch, with wild amusement,
as chubby little hands worked furiously, struggling with each button.
Tiny, unskilled fingers loosening, gnawing at them, until the last one was free.
She would wiggle out of her brand new, red velvet coat,
scrambling to play with building blocks and toys.
A capsule in time, that confirms something about her that cannot be tamed...
her pride, stubbornness, and a fierce desire to be
INDEPENDENT!
We are watching in mild discomfort,
as blue veined, arthritic hands work furiously, struggling with each button.
Swollen-knuckled fingers loosening, gnawing at them, until the last one is free.
Slowly, and methodically, she shrugs off the old familiar, wool-tweed coat,
while we patiently wait to enjoy our afternoon tea.
A capsule in time, that confirms something about her that cannot be named...
Is it pride, or fear, or a fierce desire to be
INDEPENDENT?
____________________________________________________________
For the contest sponsored by Black Eyed Susan: " Buttons "
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Psychological Pain — a quieter Fire —
That eats the Mind by Degrees —
No Smoke betrays its Occupation —
No Cry confirms the Breeze —
Psychical Pain — a subtler Guest —
It enters without a Door —
And rearranges all the Rooms
We thought were Safe before —
Old Age — the Keeper of the Keys —
Turns softly — one by one —
The Locks that held the Yesterdays
Till all their Work is done —
Untreated Grief — long disciplined —
Behind Compartment Walls —
Now hears the Mortar loosening —
Now feels the Plaster fall —
Each former Hour — released at once —
A Crowd without a Name —
The Child — the Wound — the Aftermath —
The Echo and the Flame —
The Mind — astonished by its Weight —
Bends under Memory —
As though the Past — mistook the Time
And claimed Eternity —
Yet even here — a strange Relief —
In Ruin — Truth appears —
For what collapses — also frees
The Heart — from silent Years —
And Pain — though absolute — may teach
What Stone could never say —
That Survival — is the bravest Art
The Soul performs — each Day--