Long Confrontation Poems
Long Confrontation Poems. Below are the most popular long Confrontation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Confrontation poems by poem length and keyword.
Normally, I'd not "Dare" choose just one poet
to honor. This time I have, hoping I don't blow it.
I've chosen to break my "Silence" in "Gratitude"
for "Captain Tom," a man who has a great attitude.
He posts "Footle x 20" and genius "Covid Limericks."
Ribald anecdotes that make us smile, just for kicks.
I pay "A Tribute" to his cleverness and amusing wit.
He could stand at "Hells Gates" with "True Grit."
We've all enjoyed his "Lockdown Humour" on site.
He's not afraid of "Confrontation," and will fight
with "A Rattling Rhyme" written with "Sharp Sword."
Tom's historical epic writes never leave me bored.
He shines like "Northern Lights" in "The Night Sky."
Believes in God, if you read his Etheree, "The Magi."
Tom Cunningham offers "Wise Words to Ponder"
from many years of traveling, hither and yonder.
He's usually the first to announce poem of the day.
Poetry Soup is like "The Zoo" with lots of wordplay.
It's been a "Ghost Town" when "True Angels" left
leaving Tom feeling very sad and terribly bereft.
He wrote "If I Ruled The World" I'd have a goal...
There'd be no bullies or "Gremlins in My Soup Bowl!"
Then post "A Few Limericks to Lighten Your Mood."
Mark my words; Captain Tom can be mighty shrewd.
At "Daybreak" he might be hard to find, out of reach.
Likely, he's taking "An Early Morning Walk on the Beach."
A little "Red Wine" and he gets into "Mischief," and yet,
I doubt Tom often walked on "The Highway of Regret."
He's a man of morals, so "Don't Criticize" my choice.
"In Times Like These" I appreciate his fine poetic voice.
Tom is a loyal friend; who genuinely seems to care.
On "Life's Journey," he's not ready for "The Rocking Chair."
June 3, 2021
Title Wave Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Rick Lamoureux
In tribute to Tom Cunningham ~ gentleman and poet
I’ve never felt this way before
Never been treated in such a manner
Something so new to me, it’s unnerving
Fear inches everywhere in my body
What if we all thought wrong?
What if the perfect daydream I thought
I was in, Was not
my reality?
I’ve never thought I could come near
To such a fate like this.
Being loved
And being treated like I actually exist.
I want to drown in this feeling,
Of pure bliss,
Perfect happiness.
I’m scared to feel it until
I reach the bottom,
My feet scratching the surface of confrontation
And what I dread.
How do we go from here?
How do I come back up?
What if I float back up to a reality
Where everything was in my head?
I don’t want to go back.
What if I float to a reality
Where you and I are together.
Until we aren’t?
Until the water flushed away
The covers I put over myself,
Exposing
Me.
Would you still like me then?
Boringness and annoyingness and flaws and all?
Or would your eyes drift elsewhere,
To someone smarter, prettier, chattier?
I don’t know what reality has
In hold for me.
But I just want to know,
Would you still like me,
Flaws and all?
Give me a hint of reality.
Rip open
My spleen,
My heart
Let the multitudes,
The infestation
Fly straight in.
My soul is
Painted red
Ready for you;
Take aim
With your confusion
With the illusion
Of my true love
Bake it
With acid
And leave it to set.
No confrontation
Will be offered
I have no wish
To open
Your eyes
To the possible
I seek to confirm
Your view,
The world’s view
That nothing is pure.
So take aim,
The route is clear
My defences are weak.
The purity
Shines bright
Still
But stilled
And ready to
Receive
Ready to welcome
The infestation,
Ready to
Make impure
A body saved forever
For one.
I unsteadily
Drift away on an air balloon
Vibrantly glancing at the crowd below the surface,
Sharing my utter enthrallment
I unbelievably
Cascade into the stomach of the churning ocean
Ceaselessly infusing my bleakness at the crowd above,
I disclose my utter frightfulness
I inescapably
Collapse into the bottomless paradise
Intensively eying the crowd before me,
I conceal my devastation
I face
A confrontation between life and demise
I trace
A pathway that unsteadily drifts back to reality
I glimpse at an air balloon released in the swaying wind
And I hope urgently to drift back into ecstasy,
But it’s above the surface…reaching for the universe
And I hope appallingly for another tranquil lifetime
In a world burning under the weight of its own infernality,
Empty words destroy suffering like a lost art.
Those who write only for applause and hollow idols birth dead phrases,
Devoid of pulse and blood, fragile facades of pure expression.
True writing is an exorcism, a confrontation with the depths of the soul,
Not a begging for validation, but a dance with inner shadows.
When the writer is carried away by fame and fortune,
They become just another floating object on the river of futile illusions.
It is a lie to write for money and fame,
A lie to seek the praises of literary snobbery.
Authentic writing is born from necessity, from a burning urgency,
Not a spectacle for crowds, but an escape from oneself.
Many writers, like gladiators, spill their blood,
To satisfy the modern Caesar, the hungry crowd.
Circumstances and misfortunes are insignificant to the writer,
They write through hunger, despair, and the slow erosion of hope.
The true creator does not wait for ideal conditions,
Does not seek refuge in comfort, does not complain about obstacles.
Excuses are the refuge of those who lack the inner fire,
Souls afraid of the weight of their own words.
For the one truly called to write, there is no choice,
Only necessity, for writing becomes an act of survival.
I may be hungry, homeless, wet, and in debt,
But if I write, that is enough, enough to give shape to silence.
To write means to cast meaning onto the arid page of existence,
To give form and style to the unspoken, an act as essential as breathing.
It is not enough to drown the world in moth-eaten words,
The world is already drowning in them, in clichés and empty talk.
If you must write, let it be because you must,
Because you have something original to say, something vital from within yearns for light.
You do not write because you want to say something; you write because you have something to say,
A final confession, a revelation cast into the eternal void.
Emotions are mixed, while sanity is lost.
You get to intake all the luxury while I struggle with the cost.
Oh the risks I would have taken to see us pull through,
The sacrifices I made just to try and be with you.
But you fled without a word and without an explanation.
And as much as I hate the distance, I want to avoid confrontation.
So I sit in silence while my thoughts consume me,
Trying to neglect the overflow of sorrow that lies within me.
Times like these is when the distress likes to seep through,
Reopening wounds, leaving me unsure of what to do.
So I smile it out, distracting myself & fooling the others.
I shall attempt to walk with my head held high, as this gloomy cloud continues to hover.
Bus stop sensations
Where's the bus?
Tardy connection
~~~~~~~~~
Old contact hearsay
Not much to say;
Silent confrontation
~~~~~~~~~
Frangipani sunrise
Pink, yellow, white --
Magical moments
~~~~~~~~~
Smoky stray wind
Grim echoes;
Stale air descends
~~~~~~~~~
Shoppes in decline
Ancient wares loiter;
No takers
~~~~~~~~~
Evening settles
Noisy commotions fade;
Mahjong excavations!
~~~~~~~~~
By this old quay
Modern face lifts greet;
New watering hole
~~~~~~~~~
New dreams stacked
On old faded sites;
Cool revolution
~~~~~~~~~
Play school toddlers
Exchange play things;
Rude awakenings
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
17 October 2014
Singapore
DYING OF ANXIETY
Very tall, I mean not too short
A Plump, you mean
No, of a slim figurative expression
Yes, but dark in body colour
Not light enough to lit
The room in darkness
Neither here nor there, is that!
Of the chocolate colour,
Is she hot-tempered, over-jealous or
Gentle like a dove without pretence
My head chorused at once
Still, dying of anxiety.
Does he have a beard?
Or his hair full of bush or baldness?
Is he looking mean
With a scaring scar on his face?
Or does he belong to the
“Lion Entanglement Tribe?”
Is he a man with a tender heart?
Or with a heart-melting gentle touch
Does he have a strong palm like the farmer?
Or snores like a pig while on a mattress
She sighed a breath of relief to the day to behold
As fear of the unknown grip her body.
As cock crows in the dark early hours
It’s a day off the d-day
The day of emotional confrontation
I smiled for the day to Romeo my Juliet
Suddenly, anxiety cast aspersion on my smile.
Alayande Stephen T.
5.44pm
12th November, 2007
It was inside an Ayobo vehicle, was going home for a revival.
Lion Entanglement Tribe means people with Tribal marks in Africa
Life as a poet was never my chosen profession or vocation
Nor do I aspire to wear a crown in ceremonial coronation
but I am grateful for comments with sincere appreciation
My capricious muse and I conferred, and after deliberation
we offer you a list of poetry resolutions, with the stipulation
that we dubiously hope to keep in this whimsical declaration
1. I will diligently try to pen new forms, without frustration
2. Write with positive karma, avoiding negative confrontation
3. Create more imaginative poems with ambiance and elation
4. Laugh at those who try to malign me with childish vexation
5. My muse made me promise to engage in harmless flirtation
*List appended with a clause stating: 'exaggerated expectation'
December 9th, 2021
Five New year's Resolutions Contest
Sponsored by L Milton Hankins
I must travel to that space to where I know my own perfection
To turn my eyes to the most uplifted of exalted heavens
To feed the grace of challenge and objection
As the daring confrontation to my guide to never lessen
Bearing the thrust, lifting the weight of my verdict's devotion
So to never be a slave to any untruth given
This foundation of my soul's country - its home is willingly chosen
By the criterion and wealth of its knowledge and acceptance to live in
And abide in the sweet refrain of resolve and determination
February 3, 2020
Pick A Title, Vol 13 - Lyric Poetry Contest/Infrangible Resolve
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh