Long Cruelties Poems
Long Cruelties Poems. Below are the most popular long Cruelties by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cruelties poems by poem length and keyword.
Even now, in the midst of
a pandemic,
I look out with bliss
at the landscape before me.
Birds even chirp in the trees!
Oh, if I could but stop time and hold it all -
right here, right now,
to THIS perfect moment in time.
And yet I know all too well,
this perfect moment of mine
is never a reality for others.
In some places, children cry in silence,
humans live as slaves,
and tortured souls
somewhere on this planet
shriek!
Let their cries reach our ears.
But don’t just hear them; save them!
Let the gross injustices and cruelties
of the greedy and the wicked
be outed
once and for all
so justice might prevail.
Let all secret works
go viral.
Let the caring people
take back their control
before we
-all of us-
spiral.
June 16, 2020
for Kai Michael Neumann's 'Spiral' Poetry Contest
Standing on the fantail of a warship on patrol,
Its wake stretching off to from where I’d come,
Transporting me back to my first day aboard,
Three long deployments ago.
I’d learned about things like a bucket of steam,
A sky hook, and a left-handed marlinspike.
When sent below to fetch a fireman’s punch,
I came back with both shoulders bruised.
Now, beneath this cold Comanche moon,
I find calm in the grace of self-reflection,
And remember certain bitter confrontations,
Where the only honest words were angry ones.
I sincerely regret all my barbarous cruelties,
But I make no apologies for being a survivor,
While taking the heat on the South China Sea,
Waiting for World War Whatever.
O' beings of flesh and blood,
Behold thy breaths!
For I am sent to put an end
To your infinite cruelties and untamed lusts!
What have you done to Earth!
What have you done to Hearts!
You crushed the buds
You murdered the hopes
And never for once you fear the One
Your hearts have turned stones,
They didn't melt on undertones...
Neither at the cry, "I am gonna tell God everything"
Nor at the holler____ "Lift me to heaven O' Lord,
For I won't starve there anymore"
I am sent to bring onto you
what you deserve the most
Nothing less___ but the wrath of God
Soon___ the Oceans will evaporate,
Mountains will loose weight,
Winds will be wrapped and put in a safe,
A Fire will be blown!
And Moon will cry no more
For the sufferings of innocents will end!
Now, you will suffer...
For making others suffer...
Either you were SAVAGE ____
Or you just kept SILENT_____!!
(10th Feb, 2020) Paghunda Zahid
{Being an extremely sensitive person, I feel the pain of everybody. These people suffering in the war affected areas and in occupation, have my heart. The displaced, the refugees living without any shelter, sleeping empty stomach.. God!
I'm sure you all poets are feeling the seme way)}
The little boy I was…
The man I’m s’posed to be…
The distance ‘tween the two
Vast as the open sea.
The dreams I had are gone.
Naught left but memories,
And nothing in their place.
The worst of cruelties.
The little boy I was
I’m glad can’t see me now.
The changes I have made
Are more than he’d allow.
The man I’m meant to be?
He’d view me with disgust.
Lambast me to my face
For losing that boy’s trust.
And here, alone, I stand
Not either of the two
But somewhere in between
Not knowing what to do.
That little boy I was,
The man I’m s’posed to be,
Are both forever gone
Replaced by only me…
The Unsigned Script?
A letter without the Author, our life—
a parchment penned in shadow,
no table of contents to guide the hand.
We move as if the morrow is a page already read,
but the Author holds the final draft,
the only one who knows the twist of fate.
I count the scars that birthed a better self,
each stumble a chrysalis of becoming.
Blessings bloom unseen, beside the cruelties;
the same sun that warms, can scorch the earth.
Wrath, a dry fire, wouldn't allow the salt of tears,
only the fierce, quick drum of victory,
a champion's blind triumph over the cost.
Fear was the thief of now, stealing light for a moment,
while Time, a harsh gardener, forced the bud before its season,
planting seeds of iron will and venom.
There is no pause button on this chaotic film.
We fight for the known terrain,
and keep the spoils of every battle won.
Growing is the tide; tomorrow, a phantom shore.
The Author gave no map, no compass, no decree.
We are the echoes of those who walked before,
living by the whisper of instinct, not divine instruction.
If only this life were a dog-eared novel—
to flip ahead, to study the dark foreshadowing,
and correct the tragic ending.
But the book remains bound, unread.
Life is a letter left unsigned
BETRAYAL
Cassandra in me, you unleashed
I sense in you a sunken moon
You served me a casserole
Of limping dreams, hollow love
and deaf weeping dolls......
Looming from the dark,
the scary flow of wriggling
worms in my bed and they
Eat me up, erode me up
I sense this feel in you...
Gleaming sharp blade of hacksaw
Sways in front of eyes...I feel that
Damocles sword is less powerful
as its teeth slit my throat...
Gushes profusely poisoned blood....
Hemlock coated Saw I guess...
I sense you in this feel.....
I also see another prophecy
A deadly push from behind I get ...
Deep into a dark dungeon
Dangerous and bottomless
I can feel your treacherous thrust
I see a Renegrade approaching me
With a murky coat in a miasma
Filled with back-stabbing
deceitful cruelties....
He rips my heart to pieces
Scattered they fall on ground...
a wicked smile of victory looms on
his face as he pops into his mouth
toffee of betrayal from the
Pandora's box, which he held
as his prized posession...
I smell this foul filled cheater in you!
©Anulaxmi Nayak, 2015
FIND HOME
For those wondering souls who’s lost their way,
who has even forgotten their name,
For those of you, who lost their faith,
because of more than your fair share of pain.
A life of roses among the thorns,
more than petals paving the way,
More than joys, your sorrows worn,
a soul with holes like soles of shoes each day.
Would that I could have saved you,
From the cruelties your mind and heart endured,
Would could I have even prevented,
What they said was for you, no cure.
Would that I could have pointed to signs,
When your obscured vision had gone,
But the lady has now laid down the path,
for her lost children to find their way home.
For those who had gone in another direction
although Jesus said, “I am the Way”
No other Truth, no other Light there be,
it was a lie that led you astray.
Come now my children, like a mother hen,
shielding her chicks from the storms,
The grace of Christ to gather you,
in His loving protective arms.
At Christ’s return to collect His bride,
And soon we’ll be rapturously gone,
But there will still remain a narrow way
a martyr’s path in red showing the way home.
Again and again in a world
dreaded I most.
For unknown certainties tears apart
the collated I.
Again and again in a world
Faith of him seemest to fall
for unknown either like before
in real past one.
Again and again in a world
death! Preferred?
For unknown cruelties puzzle
hearts in fixed making.
Again and again in a world
unfound easiness breath dizziness,
stiff up queasiness so tempest
on this total-fixed thing.
Again and again in a world
ball pen and pad sought
penning down black and white
though as custom, really?
Again and again in a world
dreaded as the sight of a chasing gargantuan cobra,
for unknown certainties questioning
the embittered fixed heart so badly.
But innocence is fleeting in a world that feeds on pain,
And Lysander’s golden network was a fragile, human chain.
He built a bridge across the void for desperate minds to meet,
But forgot to wash the poison from the travelers' weary feet.
By the second year of weaving, all the currents turned to lead,
As all the old cruelties of the living and the dead
Came flooding through the cellular gates, a dark and violent slime,
The malice and the envy of a long-forgotten time.
The thread was far too delicate, the static far too loud,
The human ego would not bend, too arrogant and proud.
It did not heal them instantly; it made them all akin
To every dark and hidden sin that festered deep within.
Lysander sat paralyzed, a prisoner of his throne,
His crooked body shaking with a horror not his own.
He felt the phantom agony of ancient, iron wars,
The bitter fruit of minds that only dreamed of making scars.
He saw the floodgates he had opened, saw the dangerous sea,
And knew that he was drowning in their shared hypocrisy.
Yet as his long hands trembled with the planet's collective ache,
He refused to cut the living cord, he refused to let it break.
He knew that if he severed it, the dark would win the fight,
And damn Vaeloria to an eternal, separate night.
He held the connection open, through the madness and the grime—
The human fuse that burned toward the dawn of Fifty-Five.
where does love go
when it leaves the even flow
of having and not having
the romance and the unknown
when the one that sleeps beside you
no longer seems beside you
and arguments leave you all alone
with your misdeeds. mistakes and groans
and hideous memories take hold
cruelties and vicious words are thrown
the point of no return has been past
the final argument surely the last
when last pleas have been wept
and final blows have been dealt
truly there is no hope for
the one with whom for years i slept
and in my loneliest hours i wept
are my feelings something inept
to the laws of God
where is justice now
it's vengeance must compensate
somehow
but silent are the wheels of justice
and unfair the time is to repair
the injustice i have done
sleep. rest while my fight is down
for surely if you were awake i would clown
but moments have past when i wish
the old you was around
that part of you that my love could arouse
sleep and dream of someplace better
where my bitterness is from you sheltered
safe from words that criticize
opinions that epitomize
and hide behind the disguise
of hatred and despise
against love our realities compromised
without success visualized
have come unfortunately to realize
our doom and demise
farewell, not so distant past
hello despair at last
with hearty destain we crash
with the ever remembered
love of the past