Long Deprivation Poems
Long Deprivation Poems. Below are the most popular long Deprivation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Deprivation poems by poem length and keyword.
I watch sun slide into the sea and leave the sky behind.
Perhaps, a poem will beautifully slip into my mind.
A fierce storm and then an arc gleams above the glen.
Perhaps, a poem of peacefulness pours forth from my pen.
I thrill to spy a group of deer that from a brooklet drink.
Perhaps, a poem then flows onto a blank page from my ink.
Emotions, whether good or bad, can flood me like hard rain.
Perhaps, a poem spontaneously springs into my brain.
News of human degradation and of deprivation -
Perhaps, a poem soon takes shape and shouts my indignation.
The sight, sound, touch and scent of one that I hold dear -
Perhaps, a poem of tender love will magically appear.
Reflections, recollections, things I believe are true:
Perhaps, a poem from my soul informs or inspires you.
Hop onboard overthinkers
A warm Welcome aboard the overthinker to all our guests,
Especially Mr insomnia, and Mrs overthinker, both frequent flyers and our VIP guests
I'll be your minds captain for this flight, through awake all damn night,
And then on to good mornings beaming bright resort in daylight,
We have no nap-overs or drifting-offs scheduled this is a long-ass-haul, direct flight,
Emergency exits are located in the right and left ear, emergency lights,
Are located along the optic nerve in case of loss of power,
We can also deploy an emergency slide down the nostrils should we encounter,
An emergency landing over the cerebrospinal sea,
Otherwise please fasten your seatbelts and enjoy tormenting this mind with me,
Dear passengers this is your captain speaking,
we are experiencing some frustration turbulence,
And some drowsiness daydreaming,
this is Likely to continue until 4am so please remain seated,
As our head is hitting head on, stormy pillow clouds, and alas
A tossing and turning tornado has formed in our flight path,
Forcing us to go around the temporal lobe which will mean a delay to our arrival,
Passengers you can now lift up your eyelids once the kettles foggy fog,
Has cleared you'll be able to see the sacred sea of coffee,
And as we loop around the kitchen island there shines a good mornings sunrise,
Passengers we have arrived at our destination, good morning,
Upon the irises horizon is the sunrise dawning,
Here the local time is 5am and the current temperature is about 36 degrees,
Welcome to our new guests and a warm welcome back to our 2 VIPs,
We hope you enjoy your stay here at the daytime resort,
Oh don't forget to checkout our duty free thoughts
On your way out, I've been your mind's captain
Remember time flies when you're having fun aboard this mental contraption
So hop aboard this mind if you are to an overthinker,
The day you died you took me with you,
The way you lied shook me black and blue.
The sorrow you felt, I sure felt it too,
Are tomorrow dreams won’t come true.
All the good hello's turned into dying goodbye's,
All the sorrows burned holes into my dying eyes.
You thought you were so sly, but I always knew,
You fought so hard to die and knew I needed you.
Depressing mornings and nights of pure hell,
Horrible memories and unforgettable images,
Of the night which you fell.
Deprivation of your soul saving wonder,
Trepidation of your whole wavering thunder.
Heavy-hearted moments will forever be burned with in my darkened weeping soul.
Broken-hearted and left in this cruel world all alone.
Unheard thoughts engraved in my ugly soul,
I feel as if I'm loosing all control.
Forgiveness with a burden,
Forever i will hold.
Bleeding and burning and
living and dying....
Needing and turning and
giving and crying....
I try to smile but I'm afraid I've forgotten how,
Even in my dreams the angels they do weep...
BY: SHANTAE PAPPACOSTAS
ORTEGA-ZELE (1-29-20)
In the terrain of deplorable deprivation manifest
in the wasteland of wretched desertion,
the obscure tufts of the subdued slender grass
struggle to rise through the cleavage of stony destiny.
The frail faces shaping the artifacts of spiteful fate,
flicker with the fading smile of residual innocence,
borrowed from the remnant rays of the forsaken sun,
already sunk in the depth of their desolate dark horizon.
The children when they should bloom like flowers,
wander withered to nowhere, uncared and soiled
in the harsh squall of the juvenile servile servitude
under the unbound sky lacking the flair of freedom.
The infantile dewdrops devoid of pristine patina
no longer bejewel the puerile grass of our meadows.
Tarnished by the grime of our malevolent times
the deranged dreams of disowned dew dry premature.
In the twilight hour on the penultimate journey,
I wish I could give the last rays of my setting sun,
suffused with the spectrum of embellishing empathy,
to the relics of the dewdrops so they can glow awhile.
For their innocent smile not to desiccate in inimical world
one thing we need to change is stop their exploitation,
show the dispossessed children of the lesser God
the pearly dreams of unblemished dew that never die.
The one stuck in the tunnel dug in desert of deprivation,
doesn’t know what in notion the rationale of the thing
people of perception define as the art of living,
perceived under free sunshine in the haven of oasis.
Survival struggle kicks the languished life into dark abyss,
breaking the fragile frame of the fleeting future,
the shards are thrown in the debris of abject rejection,
unable to rise from the chasm, even if arduously tried.
Failing to invent the mirage of escape, can’t kindle hope
to light up the receding unseen end of the dark tunnel,
but self-preservation instinct lingering in the bleak confine
motivates to crawl desperately to the illusion of future.
The sordid present suffocates in the nightmare of agony,
turning life into a consumed candle in the dark night.
As the defiled existence is denied the rays of the rising sun,
dented conscience murders the soul in the tunnel of time.
January 31, 2021
Contest : All Yours (May 5)
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Don't make me promises of riches,
or expose me to false visions;
I live with meager means,
to surpass the wisdom of kings:
and as long as my music lives...
there won't be struggle or need!
As a youngster,I dreamed without illusion,
knowing which dreams were lasting and real:
discarding those causing deprivation,
not to be deceived by their vivid feel!
Notes of unwritten symphonies battered
this head...'till they quietly entered,
and at night-time at the same hour,I used
to hear their harmony as they sweetly played;
was that a gift I should have pursued,
or let it go to waste as if it never existed?
Until tomorrow shone
with the splendor of the eternal sun,
nothing I kept for myself or
expected hand-outs without deserving them;
this honesty was part of my integrity...
and everyone saw it and was amazed!
I swam through those rough waters of an inclement river,
suffocating,and not saying a word;
and finally my frustration found an outlet of relief...
my calm ocean awaited me at the end of my journey;
and as long as my music lives,
so will this undaunted spirit!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
Kindness is a deed no one forgets that easily...
it's given to measure one's selfless love against
another without compassion, regard and mercy;
and however small it may seem, it's a big gift!
Receive that gift with a sincere smile and merry feeling
by thanking that one when you were drenched in misery
and reflected on the ugliness of greed against generosity:
who was ready and willing to give something for nothing?
Deprivation causes anger, need and unhappiness,
not having full plates on tables and smell their flavors...
in blessed homes there's always warmth and serenity;
don't measure their abundance with grim looks of envy!
I live trapped in a basket of predators,
their skulls crammed with futile idleness.
They celebrate misery like a morbid feast,
with the suicidal arrogance of heirs to nothingness.
The flames of humanity have burned away
in the abyss of their barren souls.
They worship the anarchy of weapons,
I see nothing but fields of ruins.
Their battles are the masquerades of capital,
poverty spreads across the Earth like a plague,
and the closeness of deprivation becomes a nightmare.
I spit upon their rotten idols,
those false sanctities with profaned orifices.
I have piled up sins to taste the ecstasy of raw freedom.
Born from the wounded entrails of the Third World,
I refuse to bow before the putrefaction of consumerism.
Free from the origin, yet prisoner of a banana republic
delivered to the savage plunder of predatory empires.
I fight my demons in the trenches of the mind
to adorn my reality with fleeting mirages of this convulsive world.
They consign me to the dungeons of their alienation,
but I rise, insurgent against their servitude.
Rising from the ashes,
body smelling like smoke,
he stands there with shackles....
in his hands....
torn up shirt.
Freed from a broken world of hurt....
He finally stood up,
and said no more....
He found his voice and he spoke....
scars all over him,
he had been through a storm,
and almost lost his mind,
but he pressed on, moving forward,
leaving the dreaded burden behind.
At first, he was blind....
thinking it was all love,
thinking it was a gift,
sent from above....
but it wasn't....
It was a darkened curse,
and the longer he tried fighting,
the more he grew worse.
So, he finally broke free,
free of the pain,
free of the strain,
He broke free from deprivation...
Emotional decimation....
He broke free....
from criticism,
and self helplessness,
he broke free....
from a black and white
world of nothingness.
He was now a free man....
He removed the shackles....
from his feet....
no longer lost in self-defeat....
He had finally broken free....
and was able to move on,
and be happy once more.
Do we see the world
through rose coloured glasses
Durst cut up the bodies of people
Psychologists say
He must have a mental illness
perhaps but the spanish
conquistadors cut up the bodies
of american indian babies
did they all have a mental illness
the New Zealand Maori
had the victory feast
where they sat and ate
the captives that lost their battle
culture after culture has been
cannibalistic treating each other
in horrible ways
did they all have mental problems
look back through history
and every culture every race
has treated others horribly
The American indian tied
a man legs to two different bending trees
and used the trees to split him in two
the Japanese Used slivers of bamboo
to take off one nail at a time
The English had hung drawn a quartered
a man was hung then dragged through the town
behind horses before being cut in four
with his head put on a stake
to warn others
not to break the law
The Russians attacked and killed
their Czar and his family
killing their aristocracy
to create a Communistic state
do they all have a mental disorders
or are all people capable
of horrific behaviours
I don't think that
I could ever do what has been done
but how much
of who am i
has been taught to me over the years
if I had been brought up in a different way
could I be a different person
How much do we owe to God
the bible teaches love thy neighbour
the bible became the foundation of our laws
is civilisation just a fabric
a facade
an illusion
created to make ourselves feel better about life
are we progressing toward paradise on earth
or are we heading back into the depths
of deprivation
Is man just an animal waiting to be unleashed
or is he the scholar
the lover waiting to grow
Imagine the bomb going down on Iraq
their metal fragments slicing like knives
through a two year old
Granted they attack the world
they use children as cannon fodder bombs
when will human beings learn to love all people
no matter what colour we are all the same