Long Despairs Poems
Long Despairs Poems. Below are the most popular long Despairs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Despairs poems by poem length and keyword.
After required Thanksgiving Day
and depressing night
I awoke surprised
by release into ego-homelessness.
What could sad night despairs mean?
Reiterating loss of grateful identity
mysteriously disappearing through this habitat's coldly absent roof
of sacred grace
space.
Why would capital depression,
RightBrain suppression
and historic patriarchal suppression
suddenly gang up more gracefully,
less threateningly,
on ZeroZone ego-homelessness
freely chosen
before rudely thrown out
for lack of paternal place.
RightBrain fullness of soul
remains ZeroZen timeless re-identification
with one empty homeless side
without exterior shelter.
But, for how long could eternity reweave
temporary housed DNA souls
becoming Earth's healthy resilient lifeline?
Advent invites homeless nurturing adventures
into matriarchal kindness, silent advances
into wildly blind blizzards
binding sun's enchanting rainbow promise
watering returns to Earth's temporary spring sanctuary
refueling DNA's homeless
yet robust
absence of perpetually living boundaries
Toward, rather than against, Earth's healthy wealth
future identity transgenerating
transubstantiating temporary sanctuaries
in humane health-identity space,
Earth's co-arising sacred time
of ego's non-sectarian summer
for ecology's ecstatic climate climax.
Mutually homeless failing falling theology pilgrims,
EgoYang and EcoYin polypathic souls
overshadowed
by Earth's great green sanctuary
assigned to re-study timeless regenetic root systems
playing WinWin ZeroSoul revolutionary games
for homeless trusted identity, sheltering
from wildly wounded wandering
within chronic asylum anxiety,
Lost in lonely inside forests
quaking,
outside breaking
patriarchal fake-sanctuary voices
inside cooperative matriarchal wombing choices.
A lot of cold windy Dad talk
trumped
in each infant WinWin womb
by Mom's resolute inside nutritional walk.
Homeless ego child
re-connecting inside this eco-womb,
preparing to journey home again
by sacred light of wintry advent's dawn
After thanksgiving days
and depressing night
re-awakening surprise
of ego's wandering
health-rooted adventurous soul
revolution dawning in darkest brights.
Life is grim,
perpetually dim,
Don’t know what’s missing,
It belongs within,
Everything I eat,
tastes the same,
Drinking no better,
insipid and plain,
Can’t be bothered,
to answer the door,
Lost all interest,
in peace and gore,
Walking upstairs,
Brings me down,
Climb even higher,
I’m still underground,
At my best,
reach mediocre,
When worse wishing,
life was over,
Walking in quicksand,
up to my waist,
Encrusted with faeces,
Completely encased,
How come the sun,
won’t shine any more,
perhaps it does,
oblivious I ignore,
Future is tomorrow,
Black with decay,
My past the same,
Lacklustre yesterday,
Happiness a joke,
does it exist at all,
Must be an illusion,
from when I was small,
Try to hit lotto,
down on my luck,
What I deserve,
with this outlook,
My hero Cobain! swore,
“I don’t have a gun”
Best lyric ever,
considering what he done,
Push nails in my eyes,
helps numb the pain,
Stand naked in thunder,
Soaking up shame,
Life morphs one sleep,
into the next,
When I wake up,
a world of utter detest,
Is this a rhyme,
or even a poem,
No your right!
Crawl back under my stone,
What can one do,
when despairs all you’ve got,
Look forward to death,
I do quite a lot,
At least It’s a new year
just piss off away,
Sorry! what you expect! “Hip Hip Hooray.”
COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE(41)
any theme any form Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand 16/01/2021
My springtime born dreams heart-chime to be realized.
I still tend them though now I twill on winter stairs.
Cruel is aloof time tossing hearts paralyzed.
Hopes of mine are hostage roped in time’s mechanics.
Tick-tock purposed, time imposes count fanatics
that dreams I weave to unfold, it tolls as despairs.
Count all hearts that beat-start without dream existence
and numbers would waste, neither written or erased.
From first birth cry, our essence dream sighs insistence.
Absent dream gauze, all clearly appear spirit born.
To know dream-lifts embrace, I have cuddle laid torn.
Time raced quicker than I could bear being snare chased.
The tongue of the serpent speaks
Of forbidden fruit and lust
And the fruit of the tree is plucked
For the hand of man is weak
One bite of the apple sweet
And man is naked tossed
In a world of grief and loss
Where the hissing serpent creeps –
The serpent’s in the trees
And he crawls on Mother Earth
At the dawning of the birth
Of the devil and his deeds
And the devil sows his seeds
In the garden where he sleeps
While the woman wails and weeps
At the secrets that he keeps –
Beware the song of the snake
And the serpent in the grass
Who coils and hisses and laughs
As the judgement day awaits –
When the tongue of the serpent speaks
The heart of man despairs
For evil is in the air
And the hand of man is weak
Moms are such delicate people
Our strength and our weakness
It's because there our cause
And many don't think it
But this person does just because
I see it all day just walking
A child falls guess who is there?
When a child crying who glares?
Mothers are the heart of things
Creates the means of love
When there are despairs
Who rises to clean up wounds
Even if it makes them turn blue
Mothers are silly to a truth
Knowing one or two is cool
I have all them to thank
Because without them were poo
Not to use a dirty word but true
They give and share
They tend and care
We are so blessed to have them
Our wings our guardian
In so, so many ways
God meant them to be
Our Guardian Angels to share
In the shadows, harpies linger as agents provocateur,
for the Fallen Watchers, for pecking order.
Prostitute mercenaries,
addicted to mercury and disorder.
Their claws sharp, their cries a shiver,
their motive insanity from hell's hateful quiver.
They pluck you from the light of day,
leave you in the flames to barter the fray,
to drown in the sea of faith no more.
Till nightfall,
where they tend the fires of a black wind,
poking signal lures,
preying for entropic thunder,
and romantic moon,
lyres to ascend your spirit
for the purpose of dropping you again
in despairs pit and swoon.
Denoting your abandonment and seclusion,
shoeing the fit,
wild horses couldn't drag them away.
Hoping to find you behind chaos's fire-line,
enemy mine,
a broken rhyme-
not asKing for a new day;
a soul adrift, in a sea of doubt,
no compass, no sails, no wind,
no faith, "tag you're it, hide your eyes and don't count."
on being saved from the fade to black
from grey lack of faith.
This world of atrocious avarice
Marches on in a proud grimace
Corruption and calamity twist and turn in their stomachs, yet peace will conquer nonetheless
Consumption of the blasphemous people shout out their voices of vain pridefulness
Deception deceives the minds of many
Arrogance conceives all kinds of envy
Relentless reign of greed feeds the senseless spoil,
Allowing the poverty-proned needy in terrible turmoil
Some of the wealthy individuals rule over society in unattainable malice unfathomably
It’s horrible that we have a nation that have some leaders that lead in hostility ruthlessly
God will fight for freedom for us, as long as we’ll keep being resilient and brazen throughout our life,
Despite the government’s devastating tribulations; Christ will be giving us life-long joy instead of strife
Redemption comes from the Lord of Accord for each and everyone who believes unconditionally
We all need vigilance and deliverance during these trying times of horrendous sorrows and trials of plenty
This relentless reign of greed has thrived off of our zealous, efficient endurance
By taking advantage of our diligence everyday...cruelty alters into arrogance
It’s an insane world...chaotic and catastrophic in many ways possible
It’s an eccentric place I don’t call my haven...it’s indescribable
But in a detrimentally damaging manner...it’s a danger zone that leaves us feeling insecure and lost in the worthless weeds
It’s a fraudilent frenzy that we have to deal with for a matter of fact...but this relentless reign of greed will soon wither away along with its deeds
Injustice impairs the actions of sophisticated individuals who debate over their wicked plans, getting out of hand...getting out of hand...
Reminiscence of despairs and anxieties plague the minds of many these days
While politicians are feeding us propaganda and shameful sham...when will we make a stand? Will we ever reach out to His right hand?
Deliverance from our Father of truth will set us free from our despondency in many ways
Life, a fleeting dream, warbling on meadows:
A season of spring and season of snows;
Sometimes in sunshine, sometimes in shadows,
Joy of autumns and woes of wintry throes.
And it journeys on, vying gleam of dawn
Only to confront grief of fate forlorn:
Of conquests lost, trepidations bygone,
Of nightmares roiling reveries of morn;
Lamenting goodwill that yesterdays tossed
And despairs of hardships hurdles doled out
Until bridge of life triumphant steps crossed,
Where blossoms of success its prairies sprout.
Where fruits of life on trees of acclaim grow
Claiming winsome now, defeating sorrow,
Lauding bliss sublime, free of grieving throe,
Cherishing today and dreams of morrow.
July 16, 2022
Placed 1st: It’s All About Three Q’s Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Life
Rhymes: abab, cdcd, efef, ghgh
(Rhymezone)
Syllables: 10 per line (HMS.com)
Disparage not our hearts-- they are God-loved, God-found
This will get mystical -- allow me to propound
Just think-- wherever we pray can be holy ground
Contemplation of His Love always will astound
The Divine Physician can heal us -- He's renowned
Reach for the "hem of Christ's garment" (Mercy profound)
Pull the "thread," don't let go, till there's enough unwound
If too sad to sing His praise, let this poem surround
"Caress the broken heart with threads of muted sound"
Keep it snug and protect it, weave the threads around
For times of desolation, when despairs abound
And the upbeat, carefree feelings seem to have downed
But Mary, Star of the Sea won't let Hope be drowned
This Holy Queen's eyes of mercy see when we're aground
Her Garment of Grace makes us royal kids (uncrowned)
The choice of scapular is not meant to confound
It matters not as much which color she has gowned
Nor is it restricted to groups in a compound
Anyone can ask for her Virtues to redound
As her graces crowd out our sins, vices impound
Belonging to her heart, her Mercy Songs resound
Our Father, Hail Mary... our silent prayers unbound
We must persist when consolation is unfound
Read the quotes below, if you wish me to expound...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mark 5:28 "If I can just touch the hem of his garment, I will be healed.”
Romans 5:3-4: "...suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope..."
"Suffering for love nourishes love.
Let us not always wish to feel the sweetness of devotion to the Immaculata... It is not always time for sweet caresses, be they ever so holy. We also need the trials of dryness, abandonment, and the like. Let her fit the means of sanctification according to her will..."
(pg. 105, #4-5, in Aim Higher!: Spiritual and Marian Reflections of St. Maximilian Kolbe).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
August 9, 2023
Choose A Line II Poetry Contest (#2)
Contest Sponsored by--- Joseph May
All hope lost in his hunchback.
All hope lost for love.
All love conveyed as mercy.
All mercy a convenient lie.
Attack! Attack!
“Don’t worry, dear Anne,
I have your back.
I pity you!
You’ve lost your husband
and your father.”
“Marry me! I will take care of you.”
He lusts! He must
have her for his wife.
She’s smart; he smarts
from a reddened face.
He wants all her beauty to himself.
What lies! She could have killed him
with his sword. More swords
are stabbing in intrigues, in shadows,
in towers, no mistake.
Did not Cain begin this tale
of brother against brother!
Did not Cain’s blood-jealousy
crown king after king?
Chilling, still more childish,
in the hands of the devil himself,
the innocent. Henchmen
tower over the young princes,
to do the devil’s work.
Die! Death, destruction and lies
belong to the prince of darkness.
He couldn’t, dared not
even look into their eyes.
More eyes’ closed upon a platter;
the splatter of a royal-red robe;
behold its Belial train.
Meanwhile Anne despairs
of such a horrid cradle that held
horrors for her beloved boys.
For three crimes, even four -
using the sword on a brother,
life with no compassion,
incessant rage* - what more
does the merciful and just Lord
need to see? The house will fall.