Long Consent Poems
Long Consent Poems. Below are the most popular long Consent by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Consent poems by poem length and keyword.
Glowing days that were once red-cheeked and ripe with promise,
Are narrowing like tall candles in a church window,
Tapering from the golden stand and the sturdy base,
To the glorious flame and the ever fading light.
The final birth of dreams that was once distant and cold,
Is now close, closer, ever closer.
The imminent darkened clouds of doubt, that haunt the wise,
Are now gathering close to form a ghostly shadow,
That will create a vast tempest, in a quiet place,
And a mighty torrent that will quench the firelight.
Unyielding waves of fear that are rising in the old,
Are now near, nearer, ever nearer.
To have once coveted the blue from the autumn sky,
Embraced the fallen leaves of a giant maple tree,
To have jumped into water without wondering why,
Leaped joyfully in the warm sand near the emerald sea.
Having playfully chased off the petulant sea gulls,
Broken twigs to build a fire against night’s attack,
Held tight in your strong hands the soft feathers of eagles,
And kissed a beautiful girl on the nape of the neck.
To have laughed at the tetchy clock ticking in the hall,
And smoked each distressing regret like a cigarette,
Knowing it would certainly give cancer of the soul,
The narrowing compels the pining heart to forget.
When forced to consent to the lessening of a day,
And to accept the waning of a moonlit heaven,
To wonder if the path taken was the only way,
Is to live in mortal fear inside a peaceful den.
To be ordered to find gratitude in the calming,
And to find a moments peace in the resignation,
Is not the purpose of the dancing and singing,
This game is but a trial of the imagination,
God has left the beautiful forest unattended,
There is no lesson, design or celestial rule,
To search for meaning is to invite eternal dread,
It takes a saddened, embittered mind to be that cruel.
An elegance can be found in the narrowing,
As memories line together like a pearl necklace,
And clouded moments vanish and amount to nothing,
And all are gently buried with red velvet and lace.
Love the narrowing, set in a purposeless blue sky,
Not because winter nights have become less frightening,
Or the smoldering summer days have now lost their sting,
But as there is no truth in the trumpet or the drum,
It is just a walk among the flowers of freedom.
And a laughing stroll through the narrowing of wisdom.
First times
are meant
To be special
Or so I wish.
With a lack
Of experience
And a timid
Demeanor,
I never learned
How to say no
To a person
That I liked.
When I look
Back on it now,
I think to myself,
How stupid could I be.
Our very first date,
In an empty cinema.
I heard the clink
Of his belt buckle undone.
Tension held on
As he took my hand
And guided it
To what he pulled out.
His breathing grew heavy,
And I sat stiff
As he moved my hand
Against his.
I should have said no,
But I wasn’t taught how.
Uncomfortable
As he asked
If I’d put my mouth around.
I shook my head,
Shaky
And nauseas with fear
As I pulled my hand back.
He claimed ‘blue balls’
And asked if I knew
What that was.
I didn’t.
Every time he touched me
Or the very least tried,
I’d grow sick
And he, upset.
He yelled at me once,
For getting sick to my stomach.
I didn’t know he’d yelled
Until someone told him off.
He’d apologize,
But only half hearted.
It was clear from day one,
What his intentions were.
‘I need to get laid’
He’d tell me on repeat.
Guilt sucked me dry,
But that was what he wanted.
First times
Are meant to be special
Or at the very least,
Consensual.
After the first,
I was glad
Nothing more happened,
Or I’d regret.
But in the second half,
I grew comfortable.
Believed he was
A changed man.
How silly of a thought,
For someone like me,
To be so naive,
I’d given in.
First times should be special.
That’s how I wanted mine.
Instead, what I got
Was not even a choice.
In the secret of the bed,
Doing nothing more than touching,
He guided his
And my head tilted back.
When he told me
‘It’s in’,
I almost felt sick.
Why hadn’t he asked?
Where was my consent?
My thoughts became muddled,
Filled with disbelief.
It couldn’t be, could it?
But he confirms it the next day.
I sit on the thought
That my first time
Was taken from me
Without question.
But if I were to tell someone,
They wouldn’t care.
It could count as rape,
If it never happened again.
It happened more times
Than I can count
(that’s a lie, I could),
With my consent
This time.
If I had it my way,
I’d go back
And do it over again.
I wouldn’t let him touch me,
Because my body rejected.
I should have listened then
Instead of crying and begging.
As the gatekeeper of both time and space,
surfing the bardo that lies in between
aether and form, wherefrom radiates grace,
existence reveals its throbbing bliss sheen.
Singular Self has an urge to create
a domain where ascent follows descent,
that by piercing the veil, soul shapes its fate,
requiring simply, to grant love consent.
This choiceless choice to ingrain deep learning,
that emerging from the cocoon of bliss,
soul may ascend by willingly burning,
it opts to plunge into a dark abyss.
The stage is set for the soul to forget,
that love may grow, placing on love a bet.
That love may grow, placing on love a bet,
appears on first glance, there’s nothing to do
but memory erased, caught in fear’s net,
the soul finds it difficult to break through.
Mistaken that it’s merely body-mind,
soul’s awareness becomes externalised
and bemused by illusions, it is blind
and thus truth of Self is not realised.
Having itself set life into motion,
joy of union, pangs of separation,
silence alone ends thought flow commotion,
invoking Spirit for bliss gyration.
In timeless time, the bliss energised form,
swathed in gentle currents, both cool and warm.
Swathed in gentle currents, both cool and warm,
earth life interface, the ego, recedes,
transmuted finally by this love storm,
whereupon it follows and bliss throb leads.
Cessation by kenosis is the way,
softening attention, with touch gentle,
ego cravings no longer holding sway,
that soul effusing love transcendental.
Love being the pure divine elixir,
all opposites dissolve within its womb,
causing nodes within feeble form to stir,
bringing to life thus, a bliss catacomb.
Ego takes a backseat, heart is upbeat,
light dawns when polarities meet and greet.
Light dawns when polarities meet and greet,
melding in the cauldron of agape love,
wherein heeding love’s pure endearing tweet,
head and heart conjoin, acting hand in glove.
On soul seeing that it is living light,
it begins to employ mind of the heart,
feeling bliss pulsations by day and night,
deeming all souls as one and none apart.
Separation ends when egoic will bends
and all beings on earth, with love entwine,
each soul as God’s essence, slowly ascends,
all gathering under the oneness sign.
Self knows that there are no puzzles to lace,
as the gatekeeper of both time and space.
...He flipped through the paper he’d bee given,
And saw the name ‘Ms. Karen Mallory,’
his mind reeled again, incredulous,
that was the girl he had saved by the sea!
Soon enough he was dragged into a court
and Ms. Mallory did loudly attest
that without consent he had kissed her,
and pawed like a pervert at her breasts!
His lawyer counter,”Consent can’t be given
when a person is hurt and unconscious,”
that nothing he did be called sexual,
and that a good soul could do nothing less.
Mallory’s activist lawyer shot back,
“Maybe she would have preferred a death
to knowing that she was violated,
forced to breath in a molestor’s breath.”
She prattled about body sanctity,
how even frantic times did no excuse men
from shamelessly groping defenseless girls
who were not able to give their consent.
Dylan rolled his eyes so many times
that he though they’d fall out of his head,
he’d known Feminazis could be extreme
but this pair was functionally brain-dead!
He expected most folks would see the truth
and recognize that he’d done a good deed,
nut one day a friend sent him a link
and told Dylan it was something to read.
He gaped as he read a professor’s rant,
filled with reasoning utterly absurd,
claiming that death did not justify ‘groping,’
never had he seen such nonsense words.
Then the many ‘minds’ on the internet
all chimed in with their digital voice,
half said that he was a would-be rapist
that unconscious girls could not avoid!
Then the media latched onto it,
made it their outrage-scandal of the week,
with people declaring ‘unconscious consent’
as a dark too of ‘The Patriarchy.’
And of course his boss feared the attention
so Dylan was quickly drummed out of his job,
for trying to step up and do the right thing
of a living he’d wrongly been robbed.
Inside the court they pointed to wild nights
to try to smear him with misogyny
regardless of the fact that his night life
had nothing to do with events on the beach!
In the end, at least, the jury chose right
and saw his actions for just what they were,
still the media called it travesty,
an ‘act of oppression’ against her.
As he walked out a reporter pressed close,
said,”Can you tell me what you learned inside?”
“Yes, next time you see a feminazi drown,
you’d be better off just letting her die.”
He is a member of the
" Intr Affilia " a non
ranking position that
Gives voice to grapples
Position. It's unofficial
Title in the game as known
Across this
whole wide world as
" The Peoples Championship"
Well we've always known
That these six clauses can
Be put in place to impact
" An urgent need of recognition"
A company rule, that is caused
By the cooperation of two or more
Rivaling companies working
In cooperation with one another.
Because of company interest
The contracts and on air
Officials cannot make reference
To a companies champion by name
Only by his championship crown.
In the best interest of business
Inprumtu committee must be
Voted into place, and will not
Be or cannot be influenced
By members of the individual
Companies, but must act in
The interest of wrestling and the
Intercompany Alliance.
A championship committee
Can only name new champions
With title belts.
Either wonvin
A tournament
Battle royal
Contest or game.
Any member with
The consent of the other
Can evoke the
Ambassadors trust
With a vote of four (minority vote)
Giving an appointmented member
Oversight of creation
Of belt, rules and regulations.
After it's creation, an announcement
Must be made and than voted
On. For approval by the full
Championship committee.
This vote only has to be greater
Than the first.if voted on the
Committee appoints a new directer
To rank the seeds, and invent the
Need of promotion, this will
Be done in protest giving
The naysayers the right to
Make stipulations band rules.
If not voted on, member have a he right
To hold the meeting in contempt of
Industry interest, and only one vote
Difference is needed to be approved.
This gives the lowest ranking official full control over
The endeavor, and he or she
Can deside what type of tourney
Will be held.(traditional, elimanating make ch,
A three team elimation match, etc, ECT)
A champion v.s. champion title make ch
Not sure nvolving is hese combations
Is the six clauses event that envokes
This event.
Each man will be anointed either
"Golden Ambassadors Champion ""
Or " People's Champion" or
American National Champion"
After doings the rich history
Or being named either will
Contested with a bout to name
The what ever the inter promotion event
Wishes it to be named.
He is a member of the
" Intr Affilia " a non
ranking position that
Gives voice to grapples
Position. It's unofficial
Title in the game as known
Across this
whole wide world as
" The Peoples Championship"
Well we've always known
That these six clauses can
Be put in place to impact
" An urgent need of recognition"
A company rule, that is caused
By the cooperation of two or more
Rivaling companies working
In cooperation with one another.
Because of company interest
The contracts and on air
Officials cannot make reference
To a companies champion by name
Only by his championship crown.
In the best interest of business
Inprumtu committee must be
Voted into place, and will not
Be or cannot be influenced
By members of the individual
Companies, but must act in
The interest of wrestling and the
Intercompany Alliance.
A championship committee
Can only name new champions
With title belts.
Either wonvin
A tournament
Battle royal
Contest or game.
Any member with
The consent of the other
Can evoke the
Ambassadors trust
With a vote of four (minority vote)
Giving an appointmented member
Oversight of creation
Of belt, rules and regulations.
After it's creation, an announcement
Must be made and than voted
On. For approval by the full
Championship committee.
This vote only has to be greater
Than the first.if voted on the
Committee appoints a new directer
To rank the seeds, and invent the
Need of promotion, this will
Be done in protest giving
The naysayers the right to
Make stipulations band rules.
If not voted on, member have a he right
To hold the meeting in contempt of
Industry interest, and only one vote
Difference is needed to be approved.
This gives the lowest ranking official full control over
The endeavor, and he or she
Can deside what type of tourney
Will be held.(traditional, elimanating make ch,
A three team elimation match, etc, ECT)
A champion v.s. champion title make ch
Not sure nvolving is hese combations
Is the six clauses event that envokes
This event.
Each man will be anointed either
"Golden Ambassadors Champion ""
Or " People's Champion" or
American National Champion"
After doings the rich history
Or being named either will
Contested with a bout to name
The what ever the inter promotion event
Wishes it to be named.
In a nutshell, here’s the story
Of this Guy and she who bore He
On the surface this description
Reads a lot like science fiction
When a young girl gets a visit
From a being – human isn’t
He tells her that she’s now with child
Though she’s never “Girls Gone Wild”
No, this girl with virgin bod
Hears she’ll have the son of God
And then this being finds this gent
Tells the story – gets his consent
They marry and go on this trip
The child is born, the heavens rip
The beings sing out “Peace on Earth”
And all rejoice then at this birth
The child grows up a normal kid
Doing things that all kids did
But when the kid becomes a man
He carries our his Father’s plan
He heals the sick; makes blind men see
The lame to walk; cures leprosy
Says his power’s from above
Tells them of his Father’s love
Asks them all to love their brothers
And worship God and have no others
Tells them of eternal days
If only they will change their ways
But he upsets the powers that be
They beat him; nail him to a tree
He dies; they put him in the ground
But three days later He is found
Back alive just like he said
Although he died – no longer dead
He said that this fulfilled the plan
That His Father had for man
He asked his friends to carry on
Then rose to heaven and was gone
He said he would return one day
To take us all to God His way
And all his friends then told his story
Of God’s love and His son’s glory
I fear that this, my poor depiction
Came across like science fiction
When in fact the story’s true
The Son of God came here for you
He lived; he died there on the cross
So that all life was not a loss
So sins could then all be forgiven
For all the dead or not yet livin’
He dies to unlock heaven’s gate
For all who love and give up hate
He lived and dies so we could see
The promise of eternity
And how through Him we can achieve
If we love – if we believe
That Jesus Christ – this peaceful lamb
Is one - the same - the Great I Am
That through Him we can rise above
And bask in the glory of God’s love
And all these blessings you’ll receive
If you in truth say you believe
Mdailey 5/23/11
This came to me at 3 AM - I grabbed paper and pen and started writing by the night
light. I was done at 4 and was then able to go back to sleep. Hope it finds you in a
receptive mood.
Executive- My powers are absolute,
thus I am totalitarian.
The legislature and judiciary
are each subservient to my whims.
I pass my bills with attendant
compliance, and interpret my own
terms as the law.
I shut the doors of compassion,
I am very deeply elusive.
I give no room at all to dissent.
I get bloated with the treasures of the nation.
In a leap year's tenure I bulldoze
my way back to my incumbent status.
And when four multiplies two, I impose
a minion to cover my ills.
Legislature- To obnoxious decrees I give my consent.
I inflate yearly forecasts to become opulent.
I am gratified for the cabinet servants' affirmation.
I always my selfish treaties ratify.
I am undoubtedly slavish to executive excesses.
I seek the redress of constituents' grievances
to enlarge my pocket's size.
And above all else, I am largely rubber stamp.
Judiciary- My evasive justice is yours' to reap
if you are a top notch,
whilst I withdraw the distributive
and restorative from insolvents.
I base my interpretations on business
interests,
and make laws for the interests of
a cabal.
Equity and rights are only in my
constitution stated.
But in reality they are no more
than abstract twins.
The sacred laws of our national prospectus
I serve as a weak custodian of,
and weaker still in the face of political
heavyweights.
But with all the lofty responsibilities
I am reverently saddled with,
I can do nothing more than
empower bigwigs because I am weak,
and they are powerful.
Young man sitting next to me
on the grass,
I asked him,
If I am depressed can you help me?
I heard his voice,
I will expect you to feel alive
never look back
go on with your life
I'll bring you back home
and will never leave
you alone.
When I am chilly young man?
will you cover me
with your coat
protect me from thunder
and rain?
I will carry you under the tree
shield you till the sunrises.
Young man, I lost everything
and I am trying to survive,
will you help me?
I will reason with you
as some things in life are made
not to last forever.
Young man if I am crying
as I live daily only
as an image
walking dead as a tool
which makes me feel
like a fool?
I will wipe your tears
embrace you,
search for a way to please you
and make you proud
of who you are.
Young man if I need a friend
how will you help me?
I will befriend you forever,
lean towards sharing,
consent to create a harmonious
lovable atmosphere
till you sense never
be solo again.
Young man if I want to kill myself
as my injuries can never heal
it's my soul's wounds
what will you do?
I will forbid you to do that,
but enforce you to predict
your happiness
use your vigor to promote
your emotions
steal success
and throw away failure.
Acknowledge your age
to improvise
what is best for you,
as looking backwards
can have an impact
on your life.
Young man,
I need my children
I live in agony
an era that seems seamless
without them.
Inform them to grab me away
as my heart is heartless
unstable.
Beg them to stand by
to pick up the broken pieces
before it is irreparable.
Will you do that for me
young man?
Yes, I guarantee
they will rescue you
before dawn.
My friend young man
get me off the grass,
walk me to the bank,
please.
Arrived at the bank
holding his hand
she asked the teller
to bring out her
last 20$.
This is for you
to thank you for sitting
on the grass with me.
Young man
your image will be engraved
in my heart,
forever.
Therese Bacha
17/3/2018
To be clear...
I’m not asking you to love this.
I’m asking for you to meet me
where the words land hard—
where syllables ignite
like the last coin
burning a hole into your palm—
spent, but still cursing
what you could’ve claimed,
what you’re still pretending to chase.
I know...
you didn’t ask for this.
The ink staining your thoughts
like the memory of a tattoo gone bad—
the weight of metaphor,
that friend who never knows when its time
to leave even after you’ve abruptly shut the door.
I’m not here to make you believe
in anything more than the obvious:
the moon still shows up unabated,
the sun fades to an overhyped memory,
the world keeps spinning
because who needs a break, right?
However...
allow me to offer a word,
dew tap-dancing sweetness
against humbled slabs of rubble—
the way it burns like
that spliff smoked
in the backseat of a car
with no apparent destination.
You don’t need to love it—
I’m not asking for your devotion
just your pause,
your ear tilted toward the rung
of what might mean more
than either of us can say.
I’m not here to sell you
on the holiness of rhyme,
or to argue that a line can be
both prayer and weapon—
something churning in your soul
as you disappear into a crowd
too loud to notice.
I only want you to see
how language, this worn & battered thing
is the closest we’ll ever get
to a mystery worth chasing.
It won’t show up in the ding of a text,
or tucked between constant notifications
buzzing like mosquitoes
too thirsty to leave you alone.
This talk won’t beg your consent
only your presence.
It hangs in the air
like incense refusing
to dissipate from sheer obstinacy.
You’ve spent too long
bulldozing its remains,
lost in the whirl of your own doubts.
So let’s meet—
in the space where words
aren’t source guides or Google maps
but the body’s struggle to speak;
the pulse you feel in your fingertips
blushing on the page.
I don’t need you to love this,
but I can show you how a sentence
becomes a river you never meant to cross
but can’t seem to stop wading through—
how it pulls you under
and still,
somehow
manages to let you breathe.