Long Culpa Poems
Long Culpa Poems. Below are the most popular long Culpa by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Culpa poems by poem length and keyword.
It springs like rain on mown grass
Winds murmur over quiet pines
No hoofbeats of horseman lost
No limpid water from deep springs
oasis lift from arid sand.
Barbarian rides past towers without watchman
Deep thunder in mountain thrown up
Footprints of the darkness
stone like starkness
Harrowing & unhalting.
Grand inquisitor, earth's jailhouser
coverned deep and iron ringed
submerged in auto-cage of steal
Far from end and near to nowhere
lifting our heads to the light of God:
Spare my family and friends, thou great
keeper of souls
In its direness and darkness
footprints of light, our bodies taken,
our self retaken,
wastelands of ruins heaped with ash
mea culpa, mea culpa
Always polite she has done it again and again
Kind apologies in apoplectic reverberations
‘I am ever so sorry’ and never an honest lie
‘I promise mea culpa won’t happen again’
Regret is never far from her mindful tongue
‘My fault entirely just slipped out of my mouth’
‘Please forgive me my hurtful transgressions’
‘I beg you’ she lays prostrate before the crowd
Remonstrates with her own disagreements
Expostulates her lips into new held resolve
She used to be a passionate people pleaser
Self-talk might help to absolve further pardons
27th April 2019
MEA CULPA(CA)
It was an auspicious occasion;
The wedding of the year.
And, afterwards, the guests murmured
Aaah!
When I told them how,
At our very first meeting
I had fallen for your allure.
So how, after so few years
Has everything gone awry?
How has love turned to anguish?
You don’t need to answer.
I know you have no appetency
For discussion.
The fault is mine alone.
Nothing can assuage the guilt I feel
At my atrocious betrayal.
It happened only once,
And I was drunk.
But that does not absolve me
From responsibility.
I cling to the hope
You will one day forgive me.
I love you.
20th October 2019
Crazy A's contest
Sponsor John Hamilton
The flashy words he deftly chose to seduce,
and with practice these became florid.
One word he once inadvertently let loose,
that he had kept for long under the lid.
He did this long after she came in his life,
sailing together in time in a fervent way,
until they were hit by the storm of strife,
and she had started to slowly drift away.
His door was open, she did not return,
the last thread of hope he had lost pained.
A simple word then grew in his heart’s urn,
but he had kept it as a captive chained.
His longing for her did not ever wane,
he disliked to see her get hurt and sore,
but unable to bear long the load of pain,
knew not when the captive’s chain he tore.
For her the injury could not be greater,
as his spite spurted the simple word 'hate'.
It was mea culpa, he ruefully realized later,
but belated, for it had sealed their fate.
______________
March 21, 2023
Contest : A Simple Poetry
Sponsored by : John Lawless
__________________________
The poem title in Latin acts as an admission of guilt, but by the end of the sonnet it transforms into an empowerment statement: If it is my fault, then it is also within my power to change it. The sonnet was inspired by the Brihad Aranyaka Upanishad (IV.4.5). It establishes a causal chain (human desire, freewill, action, and destiny) that shows destiny is not arbitrary like a random script written by the stars. It is a direct crop grown from the ‘karmic seed called deed’.
_____________________
The scriptures warn: beware of destiny,
But deep within I am my wildest wish,
Desires shape how my will’s resolve will be,
Which guides the deeds my soul loves to unleash---
My fortune’s fertile ground, and greenest lea.
I still rejoice should fate fetch me fair cheers,
For ‘tis not fate, man alone is mighty,
Yet, I bemoan if it should bring me tears.
Let me then know how should my life I lead,
Not by the stars whose own fate rests unknown,
If fate favours the karmic seed called deed,
Then all things boil down to my rigid bone.
All of my destined moments born as now,
To my own thoughts and acts of the past bow.
____________________________
Introspection | 01.05.2014, revised September 2026|deed, destiny/fate, desire, spiritual, Sonnet
Note: The Roman transliteration and translation of the verse quoted are:
...sa yatha kamo bhavati tat kratur bhavati |
yat kratur bhavati tat karma kurute |
yat karma kurute tad abhi-sampadyate ||
You are what your deep, driving desire is.
As your desire is, so is your will.
As your will is, so is your deed.
As your deed is, so is your destiny.
Many times when we’ve fallen
We feel walking out of our room, sullen
Sometimes, it’s another way around
We walk out with a small trophy or crown.
The moment when our flaw rolls as Felix Culpa
We seemingly feel the spark of a good karma
And bringing along its prize in sweet vanilla
We'll say,” A blessing in disguise, Alleluia!”
Felix Culpa comes on our way with a quick rescue
Like a wheelchair picking us up without a clue
Despite our flaw, comes a miraculous grace
For we’re always drawn in God’s loving embrace.
It’s a clear reminder of Jesus Christ's salvation
Our ultimate end is so wonderful, offered by His redemption
Amidst our life’s tragedies, God has greater plans
Just trust Him completely and if we fall, we’ll stand.
My alarm went off this morning, like a slow clap.
My beauty routine for-surely isn’t sleep.
My phone was dead, which put the “ugh” in unplugged.
and by 5:25am I was multitasking - both running late and stressing.
Here are my bud, thorn, and a rose for the week so far..
My bud (something I’m looking forward to) is:
I got a new computer - but that’s just consumerism - let’s shoot higher, like the texture of my soul. I want to be the kind of woman my Grandmère thinks I am, but in mea culpa, my sleep scores, screen time reports, smart rings, focus timers and activity dashboards don’t look good. Will I ever be enough? I’m working on it.
My thorn (challenge or low point):
It’s official, I missed Paris Fashion week (Mar.2-10).
Paris waits for no one - or maybe it’s just me - what good is being in Paris, the defining city of fashion, if you’re stuck in classes and can’t attend Fashion week??
My rose (highlight or positive moment):
My metro commute to uni’s become a real-life, real-time group chat
as I have new friends that board the metro at my first stop.
Don’t get me wrong, I can be independent and slay a playlist alone,
but when the train ride needs energy - we can wake it up!
As spring begins to slowly stalk us - with warmth and sunny skies -
I don’t need counseling, I need a beach.
.
.
Songs for this:
Summer Baby by Jonas Brothers
Only The Lonely by The Motels
Get the Party Started by P!nk
We quarreled to bitter, burning degrees
(you)loving me
as a tender trespasser
a chew toy
boy
demanding compliance
forced feedings
down
to sock selection
(your)conspicuous usage of chlorine
blistering eyes
a woman my mother may have idolized
(your)disciplined hemlines
entirely circumspect
subtracting the abusements
how (your)words struck, in the rage of an enemy fire
and less, the undisturbed lust after hog's feet
I was heading for America
a better sow to plow
with spangly blue eyes
and ruddy virtue brimming inside her countenance
out of the despicable cold,
The harpy's fury
(you)poked at my shortness
magnified my retardations
I was a crouching slug in (your)supercilious shadows
Understanding I couldn't swim
as all the world knows
any banal fact
for example, water is wet
and a million times (your)augur's ball
pronounced death by sea
little legs shall not be inclined to desert the scalding Egyptian sands
was it (your)psychosis or mine ... doubts dressed as destiny?
I missed the exodus of the unsinkable ship.
The Titanic horn tolled whilst she distanced,
the mocking tintinnabulation
of elegiac bells.
Sycophants, thy future.
On what does it depend?
Gold upon the ground, be pure!
River, yield thy bend!
Tormented, ye prophets?
Pleiades, rescue me!
Toolshed, art thou Tophet's?
Fly, O fancy-free...
Gain upon in rhythm?
By what right, friend and foe?
Onward, black abysm!
Dark backward, well ... Although ...
Reign of conquerors endless!
On this doth all things hinge!
Forward, O ye stark friendless!
Heart within all, twinge!
White sand, will ye countermand?
One man gang or band?
Prison walls about us planned?
Better that we stand!
Robber, burglar, thief, thy grief.
Defy, my belief.
O ye Indians, stern thy chief?
Ten thousand foot reef...
Tentacles, reach upward!
Tangle, root! Enchant!
Golem, gate! Break fast, my guard!
Feet of mine, just plant...
Will or wool, O brazen? Bull.
Mea culpa, pull.
Green fire? Clean death due a trull?
Fate and Fortune, full?
Some time ago, when we were free to do;
ten I was, or twelve?
I walked along a misty lane to school
the etched patterns of ferns and trees
on my window when I awoke
now echoed in the frozen grass
and early ferns
being gently crushed
by each step I took.
The sun had begun its morning due
to warm the earth,
and generate the day's miasma mist;
as did the breathing of the gathering crowd,
which hung upon the hedge
of privet, hawthorn, yew,
to rest upon a thousand spider webs
a myriad of droplets dew.
And there it was
the spider
fat and yellow;
waiting.
Not in the shadows,
as the others I had seen
but, eight legs akimbo
in the centre of it's now opaque web
taunting.
I had a cricket in a matchbox
in my pocket
A prize from yesterday's
sweet forage.
I placed the wriggling insect
upon the web and watched
the attack
the bite
the wrap.
And so I write