Long Curses Poems
Long Curses Poems. Below are the most popular long Curses by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Curses poems by poem length and keyword.
Such an ironic plight in blinding light of day,
his appreciation, the cruel blindfold o’er eyes,
after his dark time served in dank cell of dismay,
taken out at dawn, a bright morn for his demise.
Rough restrict of ropes constrict, last embrace he’ll feel,
as he’s tied tight, upright, the execution post.
For his people, freedom from oppression he’d steal,
heartbeats, time ticks down, he thinks of those he loves most.
TICK - TOCK - TICK… he wonders if thundering heart's heard
and curses his body for betraying his fear.
A grim line set taut in the stubble of his beard,
hailed a hero, fetor of human fright fills the air.
Tick - tock - tick - trussing death pole lends his back support,
tremulous dread at life’s end - defiance steady,
as the commander begins with the last resort
and raises the rifles, brisk command of; “READY”...
Tick - tock - tears and angst co-mingle behind grimed gauze.
“You can kill this roused rebel, but there’s more the same!”
“Freedom fighters! We're willing to die for the cause!”
With rifles at the ready, a clear retort; “AIM”...
He yells “You can all go to HELL! You cannot quell”...
rebellious heart afire flaring down to the wire,
“this revolution tolls your bell for it will swell!”
TICK - quick as a whip’s lash, the booming command: “FIRE!!”
Susan Ashley
11/20/17
**execution by firing squad, in the past sometimes called fusillading (from the French fusil, rifle)**
I heard a phrase
Broken Crayons
Still Color
So I take a shade of blue
And sprinkle it on a better version of me
You see
If a crayon still breaks
It can still create a master piece
Each line
Is filled in
Where do I begin
A broken ?? piece
Can be put back together
It may require some work
To move pass the triumphs to get pass the hurt
The crayons still create beauty
From different shades
That are being displayed
Broken Hearts
Still mend
Broken friendships
Can be fixed
Broken records
Can be remixed
Broken vessels
Can be repumped
Broken love
Can be unbroken
Generational curses
Can be changed
Mindsets can't be blamed
It's time for a change
Don't stay the same
Just grow
It's your season
Time to show
Show the world
Who's been waiting
With your dreams
Continue to chase them
With regrets
Don't keep having them
You are amazing and extragravant
Above all
When the name greatest
Your name is called
Take the crayons
Make a mural
You are amazing
That's for sure
You are the cure
To a cureless situation
You are a healing for a nation who need help
You are the awareness to a world that has kept
Kept falling
Live in your purpose
The Lord is calling
For you to be all you can be
Be Great , we all can relate
This is true
Be the best color , be you
Paint the picture
Doesn't mean the picture is perfect
But in the end it will all be worth it
Written by: Concetta Hardnett
10/01/2022
I’m not worthy of a crown,
not with my tongue wrapped in curses,
or my hands stained with gin,
toasting to life with a glass that’s seen
more dirt than decanter.
Champagne flutes?
I’ll take a tumbler, thanks.
I don’t wear dresses that swish and sigh,
no silk surrendering to the wind -
I wear leather that’s seen more miles,
denim that hugs without apology.
Pink makes me itch like a lie,
a colour that never sat right on my skin.
My cutlery’s a rebellion,
knife in the wrong hand, fork like a rogue,
like I’m eating with a side-eye to the rules.
I’ve got tattoos of skulls and beetles,
etched into skin like secrets,
wings that flap loud enough
to make silence tremble.
I laugh like thunder tearing through a quiet sky,
slam tequila like I’m daring the world to catch up -
but that’s the price of freedom,
a throat raw with defiance.
I have opinions that crack like glass,
things society isn’t ready to hear,
not ready to swallow.
But crowns?
Just circles of hollow gold,
polished and perfect,
made for heads too soft to handle
the weight of their own shadows.
I am no queen,
but I do know how to wear a crown of smoke,
and that’s far more interesting.
Introspection (fiction)
It is my fault that I am now here alone, puzzled, and afraid.
No one else plus a million others could have brought me here.
Terror is an understatement for what I feel inside my troubled soul.
Reeling like an ill equipped water vessel on the high seas of never land.
Only God in His infinite wisdom and mercy could alter this dreaded course.
Speeding through caves, gutters, valleys, and pits, I'm like bats out of hell;
Pain has attached itself like glue, and now renders me hopeless and void.
Excitement does not reside here; peace and harmony are prowling ghosts.
Comedy is like curses that strike like deadly snakes; no one laughs here.
Time has forgotten its role and left me ticking in a timeless tunnel of memories.
I can only plea for God’s mercy, because no kind souls would ever be caught here.
Only the bad and the ugly ever reach the depths to which I have fallen, but I keep calling.
No, not never, did I expect to arrive in this place, this state, or in this deep hole of doom and gloom
06242016 PS Contest, Introspection by John Hamilton
He was a lyricist
Who wrote his words down on toilet paper, paper towels, or torn up cardboard boxes
Just jotting down writing on anything that’s lying around
Always had/has pen or pencil in his hair
Always jotting down something
Brother was inspired
He’s so inspiring..
While working a job making $ 9.85 an hour
All his friends said you should try out on American Idol
Always jotting down something
Brother was inspired
He’s so inspiring..
Never frowning, never sad
I never seen or saw my uncle mad
Always writning something down
A poem a songwriter..
Hee’s my uncle Ja maz’ a poet few knew it(nobody knows it)
Has tools hardly uses it, uses them
Neither rhyme nor reason oft times self-indulgence
Never reluctant to share his verses
Never cusses nor curses
Writes in print while riding horses
Is a lyricist most often poetic
Dreams in color while shopping at the mall
Always a pen or pencil in his hair
Always jotting down somethin just inspired
Always jotting down something
Brother was inspired
He’s so inspiring..
While working a job making $ 9.85 an hour
All his friends said you should try out on American Idol
Always jotting down something
Brother was inspired
He’s so inspiring..
Never frowning, never sad
I never seen or saw my uncle mad
He’s my Unckle Ja’maz
Written words & arranged music by JaMaz Rseel Drawde Semaj 2015, 2019©
From anthology “Unckle Ja’maz a deadication to Jamela Jenkins”
By Phan Tan Hai
Turning back, glancing sideways, stepping in, being
pushed out. A waterfall of bodies shoving,
crowds surging forward, lines of frightened people
pulling one another—walking, running, leaping,
waves of people trampling over each other,
flowing like rapids, like rivers—no time
to look ahead, no time to look beside,
no time to look beneath their feet; someone
presses from behind, someone urges from
the front, shouting. I stand at the margin
watching, amid hailstorms hurled across,
storms of curses flying through the sky,
across the streets, across forests and mountains,
across winding paths, across layered valleys—
no way out. No way out, I search
for you, pensive, blurred, waiting,
no way out, in clouds that gather and break.
Please look back toward the margin, where
those with no place left on earth stand,
where I hold out my hand, palm up,
asking for blessing; then turn it down
to keep a little warmth, shivering. Hurry,
hurry a little more, before the human
torrent sweeps you away, and then one day
we will close our eyes and remember the
moment we ran beyond the boundary—hurry,
just a little, before the clouds
scatter. I return to sit and weep, bent
over, writing lines of poetry on paper,
on the wooden beam beside the bridge,
on the square brick of the sidewalk,
on the window glass before my house, hoping
dimly that one day the human torrent
will push you back, and you will find
my words strung across the sky, across
the streets, across forests and mountains,
across winding paths, across layered valleys—
no way out—and I sit among
mountains of words, mountains of words,
mountains of words. But it is late:
the page once held by someone has been torn,
the wooden beam by the bridge has broken,
the brick has cracked, and I am here
picking up each shard of shattered glass,
piecing together each fragment, each broken
word—and you, my original, innocent soul,
where are you, where are you.
I am standing at the margin, at the margin…
Life is like a garden.
You reap whate'er you sow.
You can't sow thorns and thistles,
Expecting good things to grow.
Whatever you put into life,
Is what you will get out.
You'll reap much better if you plant
Encouragement not doubt.
Spreading gossip and rumors,
Will sow a bitter crop.
Fertilize your life with love.
Let kindness feed your lot.
Shower your life with goodness.
Work tirelessly and pray.
You'll find yourself too busy,
To mope about all day.
Instead of counting curses,
Feeding anger, discontent,
Reach out to help someone in need.
You'll find your anger spent.
Life is like a garden.
You have to watch for weeds.
Feed and water, gently tend,
And nourish little seeds,
Seeds of hope and goodness.
Let kindness be your guide,
And your own soul will blossom,
With the love you find inside.
August 21 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Jeremiah 36-38
Key Verse – Jeremiah 36:6 Therefore go thou, and read in the roll, which thou hast written from my mouth, the words of the LORD in the ears of the people in the LORD'S house upon the fasting day: and also thou shalt read them in the ears of all Judah that come out of their cities.
PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR COMMANDING US
TO READ HIS WORD
Praise be to God for commanding us to read His Word with His:
Counsel for our conversion by His cares
Command toward our cleansing from curses
Charge along our consecration against carnality
Challenge that changes us upon commitment-cost
Compassion, causing us to consult Him for our calling
Jeremiah 37:9 Praise be to the Lord for
warning us not to deceive ourselves because of our:
Faithlessness that frames us upon failure and frustration
Fierceness that finds us along fightings and frettings
Foolishness that fastens us toward falsity and fall
Fatness that fills us with fascination and fantasy
Fearfulness that fits us into futility and fatality
Jeremiah 38:20 Praise be to the Saviour Who
delivers us while we obey His voice for our:
Spiritual nurture upon salvation-security
Satisfaction’s nutrition through Scriptures’ strength
Service-nobility amidst our supplication’s steadfastness
Sanctification-nourishment along His standard supplement
Stewardship-navigation toward our settled serenity in His sanctuary. Amen!
August 21, 2024
The howling lightning tore the sky.
I screamed, I'm free. I won’t comply.
I'm blasting away with wild angry sound,
Fighting back in this battleground.
Rage, Rage, against the light!
Against the coming of the night!
Rage, for what's damn right!
With fists up! For the fight!
I rage for innocents betrayed,
Their voices silenced, their debts unpaid.
As angels' harps lie ripped and torn,
All hope of salvation is forlorn.
I fight against dreams dashed in fright,
By prophets who destroyed what's right.
With their angry curses spat in spite—
Drowning the stars in endless night!
Rage, Rage, against the light!
Against the coming of the night!
Rage, for what's damn right!
With fists up! For the fight!
No peace wears armor shiny white.
It's a fake lullaby before the blight.
Blast the ashes, to kill the flame,
Fight against the knight with no name!
Rage! Against the coming sun going down!
Fight! ‘Til all the lies are done brown!
Burn! 'Til heavenly dreams up in flames!
Scream! ‘Til the ghosts call your name!
Howl! Against the coming blight!
Rage, Rage, against the light!
Against the coming of the night!
Rage, for what's damn right!
With fists up! For the fight!
Here I lay as a shadow before you
Of my former self that has been lost forever
They say that time heals all wounds
But not that it doesn't leave scars
See the person that I have now become
And feel ashamed of the damage you caused
Your disbelief makes me feel numb
I can't even be bothered to convince you
Punish me for being the victim
Damage my soul even more then before
Just another consumer of the system
Keeping my eyes trained low to the floor
Death comes swiftly to us all
But to me it couldn't come sooner
As nails pin me here against the wall
And vultures wait in eager anticipation
May curses rain upon the heads of those
Who have amplified my sufferings threefold
Your disbelief is what makes me know
To never trust a soul in this life again
So carry on killing me with disbelief