Long Discretion Poems
Long Discretion Poems. Below are the most popular long Discretion by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Discretion poems by poem length and keyword.
Is it meanness or even jealousy:
a plot to harm me heartlessly?
I'm fearful of that menacing look,
it's a horror story I read in a book!
Your intentions are extremely evil,
you put on the face of the Devil;
I stay wide awake, sleep won't ever come,
I don't look fine, I thought this was home!
I'm fearful of that menacing look,
If I say hello to someone, I get a lecture;
you come running and a make a gesture
not too pleasant and call me a jerk!
I can be jealous too, mine is not an obsession...
yours is and believe me it scares me quite a lot;
my affairs are in the past tense, I use discretion:
nobody touches me, I don't lie, I do what is right!
I'm fearful of that menacing look,
I isolate myself, if I hear a knock
on that door: I stay put and ignore
your silly screams that hurt to core!
The Nap
by Odin Roark
Through a smudged barroom window
A child stares in at the old man
In his darkened corner spot
He sits on a rickety chair
Head bent downward
Bleary eyes fixed on a weathered tabletop
His finger idly caressing a carved heart
Once etched with proclaimed love
Now void of excitement
Like the empty bar
Pondering fate
Soured with age
Years of youth
Never fulfilled
Haunts his every moment left
Why?
The child tilts her head
Matching the slumped old man
She too wonders
Why?
She can't see
The buried liar in him
The one called Discretion
The one who betrayed his trust
The voice so persuasive
Tomorrow will do
You've plenty of time
Your whole life's ahead of you
Arthritic fingers rise to his cheek
Sunken wrinkles like crevasses he once scaled
Now but remind him
How cold life can be
The little girl palms her sweater
Making clearer the window
She taps small fingers his way
Ancient eyes rise from tabled history
She smiles
He nods
A moment's joy
Stymies his reverie
His crooked fingers
Touch his lips
Remembering kisses
Never thrown
Till now
Thoughts and memories
Render him dizzy
He rests his head on the table
Time for his nap
In the once noisy bar
Of his youth
I tried,
truly I did
but who do I kid?
I listen to his rhetoric
every line is the same, by heck -
the wall, the caravans,
the southern border's last stand;
the constant ups and downs,
congress not gaining any ground;
Russia gate and transgender views
the disregard of dangerous news;
gun control and school-aged shootings
the protests and dissensions recruiting;
the fake news and falsely spouted facts
the wordplay of in-discretion, lacking tact;
so,
a positive thought?
Trump has created a revolution
slow but eager to gain solutions
on the cusp of modern change
who's to say the weight of all lost or gained.
America is rising, lies despising
people are no longer compromising
truth be open and told
we need to change the politics of old
forge ahead with focus, facts, actions bold
to keep America great to prevent its unfold.
Anthony Slausin's A Positive President Trump poem
The dreadful morning'echoes die out...
chasing the mist into infinity;
Doralice,
you dream up the wildest things
in the same wrong way!
Doralice,
dreamers hide secrets without discretion;
dreamers use only their imagination:
they overlook the promise for the future so near...
they refuse to understand that their own fear
leads to regrets,
or to defeats!
Through the hours of your fantasy-nights,
you wander in strange fairy-lands...
only existing in your dreamy mind;
the morning after you shiver with cold!
Doralice,
no handsome,tall prince will quickly pop out
of that dream...you dreamed!
Doralice,
no magic word will create
a lovely wonder-land!
Doralice,
dreamers burn up their precious lives;
Doralice,
lovers can have both love and dreams!
“This heat clearly
has me beat,'
she said, 'it nearly
knocks me off my feet, and,”
then paused for a rest
long enough I deemed
for what seemed
an eternity
sufficient to warrant at best
a pregnancy
if not paternity test
which put me off my stride
as unable to read
the space between the lines
and in a quandary
not wishing to strain
the body and brain
or neurons scatter
within the grey matter
yet knowing who the boss is
decided to cut my losses
and as discretion
is the better part of valour
to make a confession
I gave up my place plus my seat
picked up the pace
and made a somewhat hasty retreat
Whenever I see a sycamore tree
I get homesick
Now it's like I am shooting up roots
In another direction
Where viewer discretion is advised
The sycamore tree grows tall
Yet I have shortfall
Coz when its branch breaks it don't breakeven
The sycamore grows in time
But I never grew with freedom
Let my independence be retribution
For breaking out of confined institutions
Always suffering illusions of self affliction
It is a suicidal addiction
Sycamore you are evergreen
And my life is just upscene
This is a poem about somebody else
So don't worry yourself
The devil is right there in the details
You don't want to hurt yourself
For looking too closely
What have I become my sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away in the end
We get what we deserve
If we only let die and let live
Truth is like blood under your fingernails
You don't want to hurt yourself
By looking too closely
You right there in the mirror
Don't kid yourself
Looking too closely
Maybe I get famous as the man that can't be moved
I’m the man that can be moved
Inspired by the sycamore tree
Growing tall and can't be moved
Growing to the air and
Blowing in the wind care free….
Sitting on a bench
Of your own making
Feeding pigeons
Who are there for taking
...sustenance
Walking down a worn path
Where others have left a mark
Though you hear a voice
To come up yonder, you will not hark
...silence
Diving headlong into a pool
Where opportunity lures you as bait
No water to soften the fall
You met a foolish fate
...drown
Searching for answers to dialogue
All words jumble into a ball
Hopelessness yanks the chain
Of the one who has done it all
...vanity
Shall I continue on the journey
With a companion who benefits from presence
But refuses all TRUTH in discretion
As a confession of just needing the essence
...wafted about
AWAY, you scoundrel...I do NOT know you
Written by Trudy Schrader on 12-01-2023
The End of Nothing
I am sitting...
waiting and thinking.
Really going crazy,
slowly insane.
I am at home,
trapped. (by discretion)
My guy is in the building.
The big white one,
that no one likes to speak of,
even in solemn low voices;
these days.
A simple operation,
an easy thing to do,
unless the rest of the world,
has stepped off the ledge.
I would like to run to his side,
I would like to fly in
and save... the day!
Or at least bring my parrot,
I would hide him in my purse.
I would let him loose...
and tell him to be quiet,
and not get us thrown out.
As he talks and tells jokes...
for hours.
I would like to bake cupcakes...
for the whole third floor.
Then make them again,
as I messed up,
and he, my guy is on the second.
While I am at it...
I will just keep baking,
until there is no more flower (flour)...
sugar and... or eggs left.
I would like to bring music.
A player or radio,
as I can not sing.
They would thank me,
and be cheerful about it.
Yet...
There is nothing I can do,
except pray.
On my knees,
in my heart,
with soul lifted up...
in nearly inaudible request,
blind sadness,
and grateful knowing;
"I am heard."
I am not sick.
No one I know is sick.
It is not the reason,
I am not at his side.
I believe...
that together,
we are better apart. (That is all of us.)
Fear and depression...
have been given no place.
This will pass.
My guy will be better.
He will come home.
God loves His children.
Be hopeful,
even joyful.
Turn on the lights,
and tell the dark...
be gone!
We have liberty and we stand.
We have freedom,
and we choose to believe.
We are faithful,
and not forgotten.
We know this...
this sickness thing...
Is nothing,
in the
end.
Do not fear... God did not give us a spirit of fear.
Exposed to Scriptures of truth declaration
My heart is settled with God’s assertion
midst paradoxes I cannot question
as they uphold faith-fortification.
Among such is “Lose to gain” proclamation---
choosing wondrous eternal direction
over ephemeral intersection:
heaven’s glory, or hell’s condemnation?
Gaining affirms triumphant transaction
amidst exercise of wise discretion
no losses for great optimization
ensuring wealth of maximized function.
So… what is lost in gaining possession
especially when done with one’s best action?
this is no enigmatic situation
in the light of prioritization.
I praise God for divine confrontation
exposing my spiritual condition
impoverished with worthless position
as I profit in my vain production…
By the Holy Ghost’s illumination
finite mind can find sublime solution:
losing soul* brings perilous destruction
when gaining whole world propels decision.
Thus, my spirit opts for earthly loss’ fruition
while vanquishing carnal domination
since Christ enables reconciliation
granting me everlasting life’s redemption.
*Mark 8:36 For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?
February 25, 2022
3rd place, "This or That, Vol 10: "Theme Chosen: Irreconcilable Paradox
Poetry Writing Contest"
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh; judged on 3/2/2022.
My very presence is special
Some what intellectual
Secrets lost in time
Stress and misery the cost of rhymes
The things we do
The dreams we pursue, the hardships we endure
If you would so kindly close your eyes
You've seen one sunrise to many
A five star opinion
From something like a minion
Just take my hand and be my partner in life
Your simple expression makes for one suggestion
Are you satisfied with being my wife
Too good to be true
I myself am drifting further than you
Perhaps I've seen one sunrise to many
My love for life is disturbed
by a certain, infatuation with death
Forever blessed for the promises I've kept
In the end of time from my feet I was swept
Viewer discretion advised
I wonder has yours truly realized
That I've been granted one sunrise to many
By time we've all been raped
It's nonsense from eternity we may never escape
It's a constant feud
Puts all forces in an abundant mood
A devil in every angel
Now you look on your reverend as a stranger
But you respond in trust
As if Jesus Christ himself lives in each of us
I can only bare with one sunrise to many