Long Deafens Poems
Long Deafens Poems. Below are the most popular long Deafens by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Deafens poems by poem length and keyword.
“Life is for the living.
Death is for the dead.
Let life be like music.
And death a note unsaid.”
Langston Hughes, The Collected Poems
Sorrow whispers through the silence
Creating feelings of sadness and grief
Light caresses from broken dreams
Of the moments spent sharing time
With reflections of hope, faith and love
Inspired by the God who gives us all
A promise of grace which heals the hurt
Mourning comes like a gentle rain
Splashing through the broken regrets
Filling the thoughts with melancholy
Desolation that touches the spirit
With dejection and misery that stills
The voice of happiness with a gloomy
Touch of despair that knows to weep
Lamenting the path that led to passing
Sealing feelings of anguish in glass like
Fear, wondering and wishing, remembering
All the laughter and love, the lasting light
Flowing through the darkness of night
Into the spirit of those who knew this life
Filled with so much joy, insight and courage
Wisdom will tell you to let the past go
Remember the good and forget the woe
But the soul who listens to the silent ache
Knows that this mystery of a heart breaking
Leaves no way to dissuade the memories
Memorials to one who gave so much love
From a heart that was filled with vision
Bereavement does more than break the weary heart
It deafens the voice of reason that tells you
To give into the joy that comes from above
Bringing down recollections of all that was
A part of this beautiful life – this light and love
The wonder of this life who gave so much
And will be missed by all who knew them best
Death destroys even the silent kindness
Gripping the spirit with a desperation that
Fills the thoughts with angst and anxiety
Feelings so pure they rake across crimson veins
Pricking the frail arteries of disillusionment
Discouraging the face that prays for relief
From this sorrow that we all call grief
Mortality embraces the spirit with a black coat
Of gloomy dread, unfolding the hopelessness
That lives within the foreboding of dismay
Which comes from the one who listens to
That evil onslaught of discouragement
Sprinkled across the mind of one who is afraid
This inconsolable heart will never feel joy again
Open Poetry 1 Contest
Sponsored by: Charlotte Puddifoot
January 23, 2021
So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Isaiah 41:10
The lie, twisted and distorted,
Wrapped haphazardly around valor,
Seeking to destroy the strength,
Pursuing the panicked, the distressed
With worries, anxieties, dread
That deafens the words of creativity.
The lie, wound around the purpose,
Distorted as the demon’s intentions,
Perverted nights and desperation,
Cruel and bitter doubts,
Piercing through the promise of peace,
Who washes away the darkness.
The lie, listening for the hope,
Deafening inspiration with warped seas,
Melancholy and defeat,
Reasoning with the soul’s belief,
Reaching beneath shadows of grief,
As aching wounds flow in weakest terrors.
The lie, signaling to the joy,
Hasty to survive the heart’s wishes,
Exaggerating distrust, inflating cynicism,
Phobias challenge the faith, the feelings,
When courage reaches beyond the silence,
Into the wintery colors of anticipation.
The lie, rising from the flames of failure,
Growing strong on nutrients of disasters,
Erasing the music of laughter,
Collapsing the promise of acceptance,
Causing the soul to believe its apprehension…
Isn’t just fear, but authenticity – so sincere.
The lie, writes darkness in the shadows,
Sends the soul feelings of depression,
Defines the light as merely a reflection –
Moving through the days, despairing of the grays –
Who tempt the life with second chances –
To just see past the fear, into the soul’s daring,…
Where the lie ends – in the beautiful winds of nerve,
Found in those who can see past the fear,
Into the faith that makes a way through every doubt –
Faith that agrees with the grace that can see…
Beneath the cowardice of the lie, the fear’s fire
Will surely be blown out by the curls of God’s breath.
An affection grown from pubescent soil, watered with innocent infatuation
Leaves of dreams gently budding, off naïve branches of a youth shortened.
The roots, ventricles of a choice-less heart, her fate twisted by a mothers hate.
No stopping nature’s fruition, and now the growth, the change, will not abate.
Her spring leaves, open and green, stretch brilliantly to reach the sunlight.
Her roots of youth still soft and warm, her sun remains golden and bright.
But his roots go far deeper than hers, once green leaves are already changing.
Growing stiff with age, as they reach deep into a sky that is steadily graying.
The years between them, once not so many, now shade her with their height.
She can’t stop the cold fear of abandonment, someday being left in his night.
Her heart wanders over the fruit, so delicately hanging off her branches.
Who will pick them up when they fall, when he is no longer there to catch them?
Will she watch his leaves flutter to the ground for years, while hers remain crisp?
When hers just begin to tinge with color, what will be the state of his?
Perhaps the soil of innocence should have been sated with more wisdom
So that she might have better acknowledged the future yet to come.
Never to know if it would have made any difference, not wishing it would be.
Just unable to fight the realization that her winter of life may be lonely.
Sixteen years were just another number then, seven years has changed the way she feels
Each year now deafens with its ring, creaking branches and wrinkled bark makes it real.
What will become of her in years to come, will she remain up on her hill alone
Mourning his once strong branches, solemnly tending all that he has sewn?
She imagines that this will be her fate; the acceptance is agony with a silent shout.
But she relishes the days she knows she has with love, because that is what life is about.
Fridged temperatures bite at exposed skin,
Icy cold winds pull and tug on coats, looking for a way in.
Naked trees expose their frozen bark,
It has arrived and leaves a snowy mark.
Silence deafens the ear as nothing stirs to make a sound,
Bark clad skeletons stand all around.
Seas of white are often found,
Where blades of grass and flowers once covered the ground.
Heavy snowfall filters sunlight to cast a temporary hue,
As ice crystals divert wavelengths creating a landscape with a hint of blue.
As the snow falls, it builds on the ground,
Wrapping the terrain in a blanket of ice all around.
Snowfall clings to branches with an icy grip,
Holding steadfast where leaves have been stripped.
Frozen moisture rides the wind and dances in the air,
Creatures sense it coming and are keenly aware.
Animals are hiding to escape its wrath,
A semi-lifeless landscape is the aftermath.
Formidable and nearly uninhabitable as it may be,
Reptiles and amphibians hide underground, waiting to be set free.
Birds go into hiding or shelter in place,
Not able to fly with style and grace.
They fluff their feathers to keep warm,
A puffed-up pose is their sheltering form.
Mammals burrow underground or nest in trees,
They seldom venture into this environment to risk hypothermia or freeze.
At the solstice it is at its peak,
Days of warmth seem most distant and bleak.
From this point forward, it starts to decay,
Though still distant, Spring is on its way.
Days grow longer and nighttime starts to diminish,
Circadian rhythms change, waiting for it to finish.
What once was frozen begins to thaw,
And from their icy tombs, creatures begin to withdraw.
More sunshine and rising temperatures are the kicker,
When animals emerge from surviving another Winter.
Ordinarily, a discriminatory
guardedness factors large what I air
in close confidential quarters
within therapist office bare
ring pocked marked soul
of this feigned cheer
full contemplative, introspective,
and ruminative despair
ring fellow, whose unfettered
stream of consciousness
(oxbow lakes included) doth endear
me, asper when posting private
psychological scars fair
lee calloused now, during mine
placid lake state of being oblivious
if online readers scowl and/or glare
at how emotional
exposure seems cavalier,
yet the medium of cyberspace
deafens me against hear
ring objectionable outbursts,
thus not impair
ring ambition to reveal
much more about myself unaware
if some gal or guy
smolders with jeer
ring refulsion, not care
ring in the least about
regarding my dear
re licked existence, more so,
when bane of adolescence
as a nerd with longhair
internalized verbal assaults,
I let fester and roil
beating a path to air
tight impenetrable redoubt,
now demolition paid for by medicare
expunging angst, which
severely bruised ego, a nightmare
courtesy being nay say,
non braying "scapegoat" ne'er dare
ring to fight back, no...
never went nuclear
well...eons ago
admit swiped at spouse
altercations (often) triggered,
when the missus did swear
at me anger brewed
from her own overbear
ring similar saga (wallflower)
silently suffering scare
tactics loosed from anti semitic barbs
both our lineage of Jewish here
reddit tee, though near
re a jot, sans religion
Haim Ginott bore ye,
foyer hall ready aware
tummy, and no qualms declare
ring atheism asthma prayer
full leitmotif dog bless ya mud ear!
When you get to Africa,
Tell Chimamanda Adichie
That I once saw Kainene
Among the Animals in the forest of Abba
Roaming senselessly with the howling Wind.
Home skipped her in a bright flash lighted plain,
The clattering and clanging of her white teeth
Against her womanhood had made her go insane;
Insane of those bodies spread in the bleeding sand
Of the clamouring Biafra.
Burdens in her mind about her brethrens has made
Night out of her day and she roamed about helplessly, breathless, unkempt and feeble; she look.
The forest cleared, her emotions filled with a pack of parrotted thoughts.
I tried to hold her as a sister in the name of blood
But failed.
The loosed hair blown of her eyes shutting it heavily with a bang.
From the blue heaven of a lady I used to know,
Now she had turned to a clouded dark princess.
Together with a cry that deafens,
We could bring our past to the present,
The denial of our hands to work out progress
As the minors in our own land can be restored.
Tell Chimamanda that Kainene still in search to retrace her origin.
They could kill us in millions,
They could gather us like firewood and kill,
We still remain who we are in this part of the world
Where nature had made for us as paradise on earth.
Kainene, come back to motherland!
Men are now in town to fight what is left of us; freedom to be who we are in the land they abused.
Where on earth is our rights?
Where on earth do we belong to?
We shall all ask ourselves some day
When the nursing wound of our past becomes more
Painful to bear in heart.
(C) John Chizoba Vincent
All Right Reserved 2016
Whisper of Conscience
Because of the canticle of everlasting love
Like a sunlit lyric sung upon a path
Life’s essence sheds freckles of pacing anxiety
That echo through catacombs of consternation
In a whisper of untranslated dots of braille.
Because of the breath of everlasting love
This gift wrapped in conscience speaks -
Sets up residence in delicate sounds of memory,
Censor of ambivalence toppling self-appointed righteous,
In dulcet tenored tones finally seeing compassion.
Because of the paean of everlasting love
Justification slips through the layers of juxtaposition
Revelation revealed in flimsy layers of ghostly lyrics -
In ruptured rhapsodies of rasping thin spirits quandaries
Bears the binding moniker of unexamined shoulds.
Because of the murmur of everlasting love
Like breath on a mirror the babble of turmoil’s uninvited wind
Deafens in dizziness - binds in triads of twirling debate,
Exposing measures with whitened bones of reason,
To bend innuendo’s deafness.
Because of the concerto of everlasting love
Stark whispers weighed in consequence’s scales
Hear wild bramble canes of tangled rationalization
Spread underground to push aside
The root scale of love’s pure aria.
Because of the perpetual sigh of everlasting love
Embraced humble penance, intended to soar on crumpled wings,
Reverberates in benediction’s faithful voice of pilgrimage
Plain song no longer stutters – shame refrains from stammering -
As lines blend in chords of serene resolution’s clarity.
6-3-21
Contest: Voice of Conscience
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
I
Blades of grass slice past.
A striped assassin.
The tiger goes unnoticed.
II
Empowered by legend,
The tiger grows strong.
Eroded by greed,
The tiger grows few.
III
Alone, he stalked, hunting prey, days on end.
Now he lies still, a striped, tattered trophy, alone.
IV
Two men.
One tiger.
One fate.
V
I remember two tigers.
One is ferocious, cunning, agile.
Another is broken, malnourished.
I remember one tiger.
VI
His heart beats out his chest,
His soaked palms shutter towards his knife,
His eyes locked on the trees above.
The faint roar is deafening.
Yellow eyes stare back.
VII
Foolish house cat,
Traded power for comfort,
Traded the hunt in for cans,
Traded the treetops for couch cushions,
Foolish house cat,
Traded in your stripes.
VIII
Behold in all his might,
The secluded king of the jungle,
Hidden away by time,
We fear Shere Khan no longer.
IX
As the lines draw inward, excitement bounds,
The tiger disappoints none,
Truly shock and awe abound at the circus’ apex.
X
Bad luck will be plentiful,
If he pulls that tiger’s tail.
XI
Evil tyrant of the jungle,
Bouncy friend of a bear,
A boy’s stuffed ally,
The tiger has many stripes.
XII
Snow falls fast on the mountainside.
The goat stands, oblivious.
Camouflage works to perfection.
?
XIII
Darkness has fallen,
The silence deafens.
A mother, with her cubs,
The silence deafens.
A mother, with her fawn,
The silence deafens.
Nature ensues,
The silence deafens.
Sand only looked to alight,
find some alone-time in the muck
no fuss was meant, it is only a space
as big as a grain taken, escaping its identical
brethren of billions on the sea floor.
Oyster only opened his rigid
lips to rinse, to breathe the brine,
to move a snack through his labial palps
in private, when a tiny intruder, unwelcome,
unbidden, disturbs the digestion,
initiates the unintended consequence
of oyster's defensive reaction.
Called upon, mitigation arrives over time.
Nacre warriors, layer by layer, smooth
sand's edges to soothe oyster's irritation,
an effort that deafens new pleas from a grain
now only looking to go home.
In the dark-churned slime, desire
emerges as a luster in the mud, a dazzling
monster named Pearl, radiant and angry, hard
with longing to be unloosed from her mucous
roots. She sends dreams as currency of streaming
shimmers, to bolster her chances of freedom
from an endless, watery night.
Lured by the glimmer, human hands pry open
shy bivalve, tongue and lips slurp up the middle
like a salty kiss, until teeth accidental onto eager Pearl
warmed by the breath.
For the indiscretion she now sits pocketed in slacks
belonging to hands with plans to pierce her spine,
string her along, then hang her on another lover's neck—
stranger to sand and pearl, already grown
wayward in closeness, is a new desire that oyster
degrade on ocean's bottom, turn into sand and join them
on the choker.
Defuser
I am a truth-teller; I truly don’t know what you are.
I came here in search of peace and you are only seeking war.
We are very different; you and I are so far apart.
You are leading a different life to me;
You are failing to write under a dying light bulb, whilst I am a star.
You have to shout at me because your words are empty;
I whisper a reply that deafens your voice.
Why are you so angry that you are so far beneath me?
You know you are losing and it is not my fault. You made that choice.
Fame and fortune by any means necessary;
If that is your only wish, then do as you will.
I will continue to be right and live free and properly,
As you trap yourself under your counterfeit popularity.
You can keep it;
I have no desire to be left with you at the bottom of that hill.
You are reaching for the stars, but your reputation is not big enough.
Just another name to forget; an optimist without a prayer.
I will become simply amazing without the shrill touch,
Whilst you will remain the same…
A long forgotten nobody, going nowhere.
Friends of the foolish speak no truth;
Take it to heart you arrogant loser.
In the end we will be left asking, who are you?
I will not be asked that question,
Because I will be known as the end of your time in the spotlight;
The moment you fall you will realise,
That I am your defuser.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.