Long Disturbed Poems
Long Disturbed Poems. Below are the most popular long Disturbed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Disturbed poems by poem length and keyword.
#The_devious_courage_of_South_African_government!
This mind of mine, catches some goosebumps, my blood steaming up high, I seek mountains and clouds to hide with. Hell draws closser. God please have mercy, this world of the living deteriorating, growing thorns and poisonous layers, as I watch with fear
South African goverment in labs, fabricating rage and hooliganism, busy stabbing fatal, the sanity and purity of youths. Devoted in self serving, into brewing of violence and permanent disturbed peace. Vowed into deploying youths, to looting, vandalism, arson and violence
Ignorance, selfishness, greed and corruption sharpening blades of hatred and anger, within Mzansi's youth hearts. Cursed education system, meant to equip young souls with incapability. Expectations brought forth by empty promises, the intended goal of turning youths into beggers of right to be and ownership. Violence, officiated as a language of mutuality among government and the youth. This country doing a great job of not minding and regarding rightfulness and the deriving of belonging, taking out food from hungry stomachs of youths. Pulling stunts to lure youths into exploitation and brainwash, the devious courage of South African government.
#Poetic_Ink
Ultimate wish with the great thoughts,
No one knows today is my birthday.
Knowing you is my hardest task of the day,
Never thought one will wish me like this,
Off course, it is not for me, I am mistaken.
Words are pointing me, how it is possible!?
Nice emotions these are, the person may be a writer.
Postmen surely help me to find the stranger,
Envelope is fully blank, how can he find?
Remembering every second of mine, this is only the way.
Surrounding is in silence, but, I am totally disturbed,.
Obviously, the person observed me for a long time,
None of the people disturbed me like this, then, who is this?!
4/2/2018
Contest :Anonymous angel
clouds sail across the sky-
my life weather-stained
with years
the drums of time slowed now
my cane clicks on the path as I walk
to my favorite park bench
by the river's edge
where ducks drift in serenity
the quiet is disturbed suddenly
by the roar of a motorcycle
and a couple come to sit
on a bench not far from me
he is no typical teenager for sure
a black leather jacket
and a bad boy look
so he says, "what do you like to do?"
the girl is young and just blushes
I could tell this was a first date
he leans over for a kiss
and she turns away
he says, "your hair is so pretty"
(I look) her hair is a flowing river
she seems awkward and shy
unsure of this wild boy
suddenly he says " we should take a trip!"
"a trip? where? she seems scared
"yeah, we could go down to Daytona Beach"
her eyes look at me wild
and I could not help myself and spoke up
"go home little girl to your parents"
they both seem shocked that I spoke
he mutters, "noisy old lady!"
then, he jumps up and yells "forget it!"
and roars away on his bike in anger
the girl sits for a time
then smiles at me and leaves . . .
___________________
August 16, 2017
Free Verse/First Date
Copyright Protected, ID 930137
Written for the contest, First Date
sponsor, Kim Rodriques
Second Place
The storm of the decade
The news declared.
Snow fall was heavy and deep.
Schools closed their doors
And the snow beckoned me.
There is such a beauty
When the world first turns white.
Snow on the branches
Drifts deep and high.
The world stops its chaos
and breathes a peaceful sigh.
I pulled on my boots
My coat, gloves and hat
Out into the frosted world I ran.
Heaving plows were fighting back.
Pushing snow off the roads.
The rhythmic sound of many shovels
Would clean off the snow.
For one precious moment
There was white all around.
A stillness, a quiet, as I walked toward town.
Then I saw him,
An old man,
Walking barefoot down the road,
Ragged and torn,
His head bent in sorrow
Eyes filled with pain.
Leaving naked footprints as he walked.
The sight of the man’s tears
Marked on his unwashed face
Disturbed me,
distressed me
Shockingly, somehow changed my perception of time.
Shattering my illusion of beauty all around.
I wondered at the wounds
That had broken the man
Why was he walking unprepared for the cold?
We passed without speaking
The moment was lost.
I’d rendered no comfort, no warmth
No care for his wounds.
He had cast a quick glance,
Then continued on his way.
Spring came early that same year.
The image of such need lingers still,
Haunting my memory.
John 21:15-17, ESV
“15When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, 'Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?' Peter said to him, 'Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.' Jesus said to him, 'Feed my lambs' (John 21:15, ESV).
“16He said to him a second time, 'Simon, son of John, do you love me?' Peter said to him, 'Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.' He said to him, 'Tend my sheep' (John 21:16, ESV).
“17Jesus said to Peter the third time, 'Simon, son of John, do you love me?' Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, 'Do you love me?' and he said to him, 'Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.' Jesus said to him, 'Feed my sheep'” (John 21:17, ESV). (Graham, 2015)
This conversation took place at Tiberius (lake Galilee), after Jesus had risen from the dead. Peter and other disciples were fishing. Jesus appeared, caused their nets to be filled, and invited them to add some fish to the breakfast he was cooking.
They’ve found a body in my back yard. I
imagine what a dead house would look
like. A stillborn Brownstone with its Jurassic
sandstone hiccupping fossils and family
feuds. Terrace houses would ripple rumour
and rife gossip from one mirrored house to the
next, those prison bars on pavements. A Bungalow
would be simpler: no basement layers or levels
of intrigue, no Who before the Dunnit. Now I
imagine what type of house would best cover a
crime…. no room in High Rise or Loft - the body
would just float, just hang there. A quickly
erected Tent could hide disturbed earth; or a
chugging Barge to clog up clay and clods of mud
over not yet decayed fingers and thumbs. A
Farmhouse has a credible need of a pyre like
an Igloo’s plausible need for ice. A Tudor revival
wouldn’t want anything of the sort. Then I imagine
how the rooms would react: bathroom tiles cracking
into brave smiles and kitchens hiding knives in fear of
another attack; staircases sagging like the confused
brow of a mourning man, a living room offended by
the very antonym of itself. I imagine what a
guilty house would look like… crocodile tears from
a Pacific Lodge and panicked lies of a Flounder, the
subtle reveals of a Dingbat. I doubt a Shotgun
would even try though, nor the Creole Cottage; just
accept its racial profiling. They’ve found a body in
my back yard. So, am I a church now I have a graveyard?
Oh Men, where's all your humanity gone,
And the mercy, love, and kindness you claim?
Recall, to a mother they too were born.
Now, lost in woe, you put us to the blame.
In to the woods, you came troubling our peace-
The tranquillity, not to be disturbed,
Peace, it vanished, as my zone, put to tease,
And how much I felt is still to be learned.
Lost in selfishness, needs and wants, so far,
You took my kids, as pure as flower buds.
I've no need to lock them behind bars,
Learning to deny their own heart and blood.
The tears I weep, they would fill the whole sea.
Not a man-eater, it’s a mother’s plea.
12/12/2018
Movie:- Two Brothers
Character:- Mother of the two tigers: Kumal and Sanga
If all I did was made you feel so real
Among aortas of much needed love
With silky shoulders of stern Pacific layers
Disturbed by memories of wings...
If I defected life and accepted wrinkles
Of heated rhythm in tempera of love
Although the shyness of a maiden wouldn't vanish
I long to get to know you in your destined life...
If all I did was made you stop and watch me
Smiling from a frame of wooden Jacaranda wonders
Then I can die forever in immortality of love -
The Anonymous -
in the "Wax Museum of
the Hoping Souls"...
It spoke the words nevermore,
it shook me to my very core
there I sat on my floor
a lonely weary man.
Something almost bleak
never did it speak
few words muttered from its beak
nevermore versed in spam
Was it from the nightly shore
it disturbed me even more
black feathers were the dress it wore
imagine if you can.
I feel as if I'm insane
now the devil knows my name
and it must know of my blame
the powers in its hand.
Now my thoughts must align
my conscience I shove aside
create yet another lie
I keep it inside my head.
I yell and scream to go away
this bird decides to stay
no vow of peace it does convey
from where my path has led.
Unfortunately, it is an awkward tradition
That most of us have experienced the passion
Of first love, first wink, first hug and first kiss
Which had disturbed our internal peace.
I still remember the first kiss, the first touch
And the first hug after so many years on the couch
Ouch! It hurts to go back to so many years
Where mistakes had turned into serious errors.
However bad love does not exist on this planet
Experience is about trials and tribulations. I bet
Your bottom dollar that nobody is of course exempt.
These days, I rather think about heading forward
Of loving and living innocently like a brilliant nerd
In lieu of being charged haphazardly in contempt.
Copyright © February 2026 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.