Long Cursed Poems
Long Cursed Poems. Below are the most popular long Cursed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cursed poems by poem length and keyword.
When my best friend from junior high betrayed me, I felt like
a mighty bird flying high on friendship’s wings that had just got shot down
by a poisonous dart, which pierced my heart. But a Phoenix, I'd rise up.
I felt like a soldier as I marched the half-block to my "friend's" house.
Any trepidation I’d been feeling was replaced by indignation.
How dare she let my enemy listen in on our private phone call,
egging me on to say things that would make me seem the villain.
At our school was a girl with the reputation of a very nasty girl.
She’d even challenged me one time to a fight at the park after school.
I’d felt that day like a sheep being led to slaughter, trying to be brave
but filled with relief when that mean girl did not even show up for the fight.
My best friend had allowed this awful girl for some strange reason
to listen in as I talked about my best friend’s brother Danny,
a boy that my foe and I both had crushes on. Toward the end of our chat,
I shared my opinion on my foe, who let a holler loose; I knew she'd heard all!
Now I stood at my so-called friend’s door – to let her know I’d not be mocked.
My foe who had cursed me on the phone a short while ago was in hiding.
She never did come out! I felt like a lioness, ready to pounce!
My words were my sword as I put aside my usual passiveness, and I roared!
Feb. 12, 2023
for the "I Felt Like Poetry Contest" of Charles Messina
Yes, that is the role of the Teacher, as Shams was to
me – showing one ‘who they are’, so they can stop
bleating, crying at night, and never again be afraid.
Rumi
Oh beloved,
I'm like Rumi without Shams.
A shivering summer soul,
secretly stalked by wild white winter wolves.
A chiffon child chiselling chimerical calligraphy,
cursed with invisible ink, silent in sentimental sighs.
I've become the son of solitude,
tired from torture and torment,
descending like surreal sinking sunsets shaded in scarlet,
yearning for a dawn where we can blend like sunrise.
I have no desire to write
in your journal of sorrows,
but you cut my veins to bleed.
What is pain without pleasure,
or a poet without his poetess?
Oh mistress of the night,
I'll forever wait for you to adorn my garden,
to finally inhale the fragrance of my roses.
I'm the oil lamp in all your blackness.
Sometimes I may flicker like a candle,
but I will always reignite to create a spark.
Change the eternal chambers of my heart.
The day you stop reading my musings,
my pen will forever slumber.
Oh daughter of darkness,
let me salvage moonlight then place it into your eyes.
Guide my quill to engrave upon your shores.
Together we will sail away from Satan's spawn.
I'll shield you from twilight's beasts,
protect you from demons with crimson claws,
emancipate your wings to fly from an illusionary island.
Because,
you love the moon,
but it's the stars you gaze at,
hoping their stardust will illuminate your heart,
before they fade into nothingness.
Oh my seclusive sweetheart,
I will strum strings of serenity,
so you release tears of tranquillity.
I may not be the most handsome blossom,
nor the most popular prolific poet,
but I gift you my art and alliteration.
Some may say I'm romantic,
but I am no judge of what is exotic or poetic.
We can't put all our faith in petals and poetry.
I'm no emperor who deserves an enchanting empress -
merely a broken butterfly in your precious palms.
Life is an absent bride,
so I'm not afraid to bleed to death,
in the hope of soothing tomorrows.
An unkept man lay down on the cold street.
He had no blanket and nothing to eat.
People passed by, but no attention shone.
Not one penny shared to help him along.
Alone, beatdown, a nobody, and cursed.
His existence is viewed as less than dust.
Gets little from the bureaucratic maze.
Nothing but a bush to shelter his head.
Jesus had no home for rest.
But some offered Him their best.
Some held Him with contempt.
Yet to the cross for the world he went.
The homeless are some folk’s vile bitterweed.
They shout out, “Cut them down and burn their seed.”
Have they not heard the words of Christ Jesus?
“I was a stranger, and you took me in”.
No easy cures for this weight on our land.
Most agree it has gotten out of hand.
But stalwart and gallant souls must come forth.
And show that all of creation has worth.
When the world turns a blind eye
Others must say, “Here am I”.
And just who that may be?
It’s His church, called the ecclesia.
{Note: “ecclesia” in Greek: the “called-out (ones)”, i.e., the church.}
Trying to remind myself that I'm safe
knowing I'm on the verge of crashing
traumatic events forced upon my space
terrorist threats identity fraud blinding
pain I try and focus on positive things
you know I safe place triggers invade
my thinking I'm being bullied because
identity thieves attempting to extort
my American poetry corrupt officers
niece resulting from my wearing wires
pregnant for the FBI buying weapons
and drugs from junk sick cops because
Ciro Gargano torched 9 persons alive
with my abusive ex husband trauma
of a car bomb igniting my skull
my life was in grave danger several
attempts as I'm in a safe place and
yet the killers arrived two decades
later the anniversary of the murder
meant for me intimidating me over
my American poetry my brain hurt
my chest hurt I cannot stop panting
I hate my PTSD and anxiety disorder
the worse because of the uncontrollable
panic attacks i am totally isolating again
I wish I never met Ciro Gargano I never
would have witnessed terror and cursed
myself with wearing wires pregnant
for the FBI sometimes I hear there
voices just saying it's going to be okay
funny right i fear having another
nervous break down what a blessed
so many troops were helping me
cope asking me if I served in the
gulf war because of my illness
my head is throbbing from
the traumatic headaches brought
on by my anxiety reliving domestic
violence I have to take
my medicine and try to stay relaxed
talk therapy keeps me focused writing
poetry helps me relive trauma calmly
kind of like writing in my journal
which thieves broke in and ripped
pages wow I feel so broken fragile
not a good feeling it's frightening
you are safe now dear truly
I am safe now I feel safe now
Written by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
I sit down here…
Staring admiringly at my big belly.
Round and firm like I have never seen before.
Love resides there.
I caress it slowly…
Hoping he/she knows I’m here.
I smile thinking how blessed I am.
Love resides there.
I cringe lightly….
He/she is such a kicker.
Must think it’s a soccer field in there.
Love resides there.
I look up, close my eyes……
And hurt a little.
Knowing my little fella is being judged.
Love resides there
I hurt a lot…
Realizing my mistakes.
But knowing it cannot be reversed.
Love resides there.
My baby, my love….
I do not have a ring on my figure.
Your father is almost non-existent now.
But you are love, you reside here.
My joy, my life….
They judge us, they say you are cursed.
Born out of a union not recognized by society.
But you are love, you reside here.
My all, my sweet….
It does not matter, God has already blessed us.
He forgave me, hence you are already forgiven.
You are love, you reside under his wings.
My darling, ruva rangu…
We shall not be defined by what society thinks.
I shall not be defined by being a single parent.
You were meant to be, love resides within you.
So my baby, my blessing in disguise….
You are blessed beyond measure.
You will grow up, you will be wise.
For you are love.
Loved by me, loved by God.
Therefore my sweet, my baby.
Where you are, who you are.
Is love and love resides there.
For every woman who has ever been judged for having pre-marital babies.
Mistakes happen, we learn from them. We teach from them.
God forgives for his word says so. We repent, we become born again.
we become whole again.
© Herzel Poshiwa
I’ve cried tears so heavy they left track marks on my cheeks,
And I’ve loved so deeply that Ive lost myself,
That’s my curse my cross to bare,
No half measures
No ing about
It’s all or nothing or what’s the point.
I commit to become a conquerer,
Im not willing to be conquered -
I wear my warpaint with pride,
And tattoo my heart on my sleeve for all to see,
I’m not hiding -
Come at me if you wish,
But be sure to finish me,
Because remember - I am cursed,
I play nice but I dance like a devil,
Deserve me and I’ll never desert you,
Love me and I’ll fill you heart forever more,
But the day you disregard me,
I will drive my will into heaven and hell to make sure you regret it,
You won’t see me until it’s too late,
Im not one to turn to despair,
I’ll turn to anger and fill with rage,
I’ll let the hatred consume me until my eyes bleed black joy at the thought of your whimpering carcass laid at my feet,
This is what it’s like to be cursed,
This is how I handle rejection,
So don’t go there,
Spare yourself my wrath,
If your not up to the job,
Don’t make me your happily ever after.
Darkness falls blood swept fields today
Haunting sounds come from shattered bone
Stench floats, hangs from bodies decay
and cries are heard in fields of stone
Terrified men will turn to clay
Anguished faces that have no name
They are stepped on as they moan
No questions asked or feeling shame
Moonlight filters trees burned away
Hearts turn cold while fatigue has shown
Blood sticks to boots from the footway
Each man apart feeling alone
Sees his name on a gravestone stay
From this wanted war that they blame
As some scream out from deaths they own
No questions asked or feeling shame
Army of men cry from the frey
and hear whispered sounds, dead men groan
The cursed memories they will weigh
Men curl in darkness, fear has grown
They had to pass through hell's archway
and found no heros or acclaim
Only meadows of death they've sown
No questions asked or feeling shame
The anger comes, they can't postpone
Dead men's faces fill their mind's frame
Their nightmares now will set the tone
No questions asked or feeling shame
I changed ABABBCBC to ABABACBC
contest Ballade
4/28/15
Violently delicious
You play with my mind
Looking for logic i can't swim against time
Am I marked to be doomed
Am I cursed or worse already dead
I can't help to think
But thats when Iam at my worst
Its just the way we play your cards
When I think I have a chance
It all breaks down
Its a sweet party just like you Let me dance the hood of my car
Let me scream and shout
Ill wait for this time and space
Iam a lucky man
But so God damn.unlucky
Is it just all mankind
What happened in the last 5 years
What happened to luck, posterity,sucess
Do I shout out.. hey you !
Stop this merry go round
It ain't merry I quit booze
I quit weed, I quit living for the future
How can you be so proud
Just take a look at this town
If you got a better name
You better use it
If someone can stop this spiral
We better do it
Acquainted with desuetude-
it seems my short-lived era
were all alike.
Chambered by family,
bounded by marriage
there was no getting out
of these links unscathed.
Perhaps,
picking the lessor poison
constitutes some sort of freedom.
I saw the way he looked at me,
perceived me, repulsed me-
There was no mystery
to his gaze. Though he thought he was
deceiving me- No, no!
I was just tired
of living confined
and starved.
I had a love for life,
and I thought life
had a love for me,
until I encountered him-
Is this what fate feels like?
Maybe life did love me
and gifted me access
to another realm,
so I did not have to suffer
by this life any longer. Te Medici
my mother use to say-
“You Medici
have a duty to this family,
freedom
does not know our name.”
He was betrothed
to my eldest sister,
who’d fallen to illness.
Shortly after,
I was to take her place
to be promised
to the Duke of Ferrara-
I still find her
to be the lucky one.
He was a collector;
he had a sight for beauty,
for particular pieces,
and I,
I was just another piece
on his board.
Every move I made
was carefully observed, curved
into his own obsessive narrative
of how he wanted to render me.
I was the act-less villain
in his life,
and yet
I am somehow still
the villain to his guilt.
Even
In
Death
I can’t escape
his loathing
for me.
Shadows lurking
used to accompany me
when I walked the halls,
so I started to spend
more and more time in my room-
loneliness became
my closest companion.
I had no way out
once I was in–
waiting was like a predator
stalking its prey.
The waiting was excruciating,
the act was release.
I wrote this
to nurture credence
into my existence,
and before my fate
was sealed by him.
I wonder now if my death
frees me from my duty?
The best thing now
about being a spirit
roaming freely
in the shadows,
is seeing the Duke
haunted by his own guilt,
and cursed by his own shame–
How self-infliction
checked mate,
his entire
boardgame.
Youth
Years spent in giggling
Seeing not any meaning
Not even in studying
Nor in dutiful praying
Nor in fervent believing
O youth, you are spent
Bent and in torment
Lost in your own world
One in which you behold
Your own self, that of a star
The Elder
Wise are now your eyes
Suffered with agony and cries
Realization did dawn
Life is mourn
Meant to be catered with caution
Never to be taken as an easy accommodation
In order to get
You need to fret
And give,
Even if you have to grieve!
The Dead
Left is your physical being
Your name is recalled by every being
Your footsteps you have left
Your life resounded with faith
Blessed or cursed
None thinks of your as accursed
Acclaimed in your absence
Now they envy your essence
One different in its kind
With glorious beauty and witty mind!