Long Divorces Poems
Long Divorces Poems. Below are the most popular long Divorces by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Divorces poems by poem length and keyword.
after marriage she's happy
nothing was there to be unhappy
they wanted a child so went to a doctor
but by losing smile returned sadly
extreme invisible heart pain
passes through her bloody vein
no one hears her inner voice
suffers from unkindness disdain
she's lonely friend of herself now
in biting silence suffers woe
for this reason she's divorced
tear drops her husband sowed
a sweet home she's lost
love always not reimburse cost
only fault she had in life
for infertility she had no child
at end she became invisible
ended life of all horrible
her nothing then no one seen
now enjoys she her eternity's peace
For contest: Sponsored by SKAT
Note: In our family life we see many women are badly tortured for having no child birth and husband divorces and get married again. In such life's situation what an woman faces invisible pain which other family members don't feel and the lovely hubby burns out the love of her heart. What a tragic things happen in our so called civilized societies, it's shame. One of the practical facts is penned in this poem.
Hand and hand our journey began
As we set off on our journey of marriage
Along the way both have made mistakes
The wounds received a needed bandage
But those wrongs still created barriers
That seems we are unable to overcome
The painful heartbreaks formed the foundation
And our anger is where the walls came from
We've spent years building this home
So our love would have a place to dwell
The home was constructed all wrong
We should have known it would fail
Is this love of ours worth anything to you
Are you still so firmly set on being done
I can't force you to stay here with me
But remember divorces are never won
Navigating through my life journey was not easy.
It was quite a ride going through dead-ends, detours,
slippery roads, winding roads, road hazards in forms
of emotional struggles, discrimination, losses of many
kinds, like divorces and finances, working two jobs as
a single mother and raising four children on my own.
It never occurred to me to escape my stressful life.
I was just focus to keep going including the times
I had depression, major or situational that also
emphasized high functioning depression, most
likely the rationale I was able to carry on with
my busy and stressful life….
After my last major depression episode fourteen
years ago, I found myself transforming my state
of mind by focusing and working on mindfulness.
I learned to quiet my mind submerging myself
into deep reflective thought of the precious gifts
given to me, my life, attributes, talents, blessings.
In my quiet state of mind, I am remindful of what
I had gone through and mindful that I am here,
right now, more thankful, more appreciative, more
grounded, more aware that stress is a part of life
and we live in a world that reveres busyness, like
the path to success, a misconception….
In the midst of a busy day or feeling stressed with
stressful circumstances, I detached myself and
find my inner calm and when I’m in the calm state
of mind, I feel tranquility or the feel of seijaku.
When you develop, embrace the seijaku value,
or the value of stillness or calm state of mind,
your calmness would not be shaken whether
you’re at home or someplace else….
..from that same kid several years and a couple of divorces later...
Dearest Santa,
Here's my list of things for which I am keen,
I've kept it lean,
In case you're kinda short on the green.
Dearest Santa,
I'll pin it near my stocking tonight.
Santa, buddy,
I sure would like a new Smart TV,
Flat screen, HD,
A 60 incher, maybe 3D,
Santa, buddy,
Just stuff it in my stocking tonight.
Santa, pally,
I'd also like a…well…you know what,
And really hot!
Brunette or blonde, whatever you've got,
Santa, pally,
Just put her in mesh stockings tonight.
Excuse me, Santa,
I don't mean to seem crass or crude,
That would be rude,
But I'm submitting this request dude to dude,
So be a buddy,
When you're filling up my stocking tonight.
P.S. Santa,
I have a small confession, I fear,
I haven't been a good boy all year,
And in case you just can't see your way clear,
Dearest Santa,
I'll still dream about mesh stockings tonight.
Thank you and Merry Christmas,
Your friend,
John Dorflemeyer
420
4 - fortify your love
He said to her
Cos now we are fruitful
Let your heart be true
Cos we have gone along way
To have a family now
You have always been here
And all I am now I can't be
With out loving you
Me and you two kids
4 wonder family
2- two of us are now friends again
Just like from the start
Despite all we've shared
This long years
We are now separate in watch
We use to be 4
Now we break like
420
We clash down like a stock market
A man with out his wife and kids
Yet life must go one
Despite not easy lossing a family with you
0- life is like a zero
Never say never
Cos who will ever think
We can fall from 4 to nothing
Broken promises
Broken hearts
Has cost us a broken home
And now I can never say never
Despite your good intentions
Nothing last forever
At the end life is like a zero
Dedication to broken homes and
Divorces
Were broken hearts speaks
In obvious silence
ELEUTHEROMANIA
I suffered and recovered from depression;
but did not know I have an obsession
with freedom until I read Eleutheromania.
I thought I only have bouts of Beatlemania.
This great desire to be free started
when I was a child; but obstructed.
At seven, I did not know where to go,
so I decided to forget and forgo.
At eighteen, I ran away several times
for I did not know where I belong at times.
I always felt lost and just wanted to be free
from living with two contrasting families.
Soon enough life got more complicated.
Married twice and divorces contemplated.
Freeing myself from an insecure jealous guy
and an alcoholic, to both I said good bye.
11/17/20 Pick-A-Title, Vol 25 - Rhyme 2 Poetry Edward Ibeh
Laying my head back, eyes closing,
reminiscing, the years falling away into decades ago
to the 1950s at my grandparents' grand home
for Christmas.
It was a gracious dining room.
Noontime sun streaming in.
Chair rail with deep red wallpaper, white trim.
Decorating the lace clothed "Big Table"
was a tallish 1870s porcelain Meissen fruit centerpiece
with lovers circling the stem.
Even the adults had to look around it.
Grandmother "Lil" and "Mister B"
were at their nouveau best.
All their progeny seated in good form
awaiting the traditional invocation by "Mister B".
Also seated were the ones that were to be
"seen but not heard" at our side table, the "Kids' Table."
Draped card tables for the dozen of us -
me, my brother and sisters and cousins.
Everyone all scrubbed in dresses and ties.
Mine was a clip on.
As expected, a milk glass got tipped. Spilt milk.
Besides that, we kids had great fun and
became friends again as we did each year.
The thing of it was, none of us liked
being at the "Kids' Table."
We felt lesser, unworthy, subtly so.
Even when I was ten, I knew there were
only two ways to get to the big one:
marriage or go in the army.
We all wondered what it was like to be adult.
After all, most of them smoked.
They all had drinks.
The women had figures, swishy swirls.
The men wore suits like they knew how.
At the "Big Table" they all talked like experts
about stuff we didn't understand
and they laughed loudly at Uncle Bob's jokes.
As the years moved on, things would change,
always do.
I saw virtually all my cousins
disassemble their lives too early -
marriages, divorces, addictions, lost jobs, left school -
beleaguered into inevitable submission.
My family miraculously unscathed.
But they're all gone now,
"Big Table" and little table too.
All that's left from the 50s
is my brother, sister and me.
For years, I was at the "Big Table" since my brood and I
took over the Christmas tradition.
The "Big Table" conversation was
superficial and posing was prevalent.
So one year, I put myself at the "Kids' Table." Just for fun.
Yes, milk got tipped.
But oh, the wonderment and hope. A meal that truly was
food for the soul.
Now that I'm old and looking back,
with a quiet smile, mulling it,
I kinda liked the "Kids' Table" better.
Colored pencil illustration by G.Gaul
Night in Lisbon
Once, I went to a dance hall in Lisbon
an awful place full of desperate middle-aged women
hoping to catch a man, any man.
Ah, for the horrible colours looking putrid on the wall
Was the music supplied by a jukebox when
the accordion was too drunk to play
Scrawny women of the night sat around the dance
floor trying to look sophisticated smoking cigarettes
laughing loudly like ugly sisters
Ogling men’s mid-part while showing spindly legs
meant, I think, to look enticing but only succeeded
In appearing like stick insects
Once these women had been beauties, attracted
to men in suits; many divorces later and partying
time had taken a heavy toll.
Lonely women, chasing what once was, the youth
consorting with contemptible men who feared
being alone on a night when truth spoke piercingly
My divorce was reduced to about 7 years, it was a marriage from 1995-2014=19 years, date judge signed divorce decree. In my state a judge has the discretion to decide the length of marriage, thus resulting in money and other divisions of assets.
Like a job, some jobs require us to get 10 years in before being vested, marriage appears to have the same type of ways.
Since everything can be manipulated, by use of friends, money, lies, and more ways not mentioned, the divorce laws should be consistent with federal government law, saying a marriage is from date of marriage to date of divorce decree.
I have suffered many losses as a result of this reduction in marriage length, I am hoping they change the state law and make it retroactive so many like me can get justice, and future divorces never suffer like I have.
Lifting prayer to God, today and always.
My life has been chock-full of rites of passage
From rising up through the ranks of Scouting
To completing all the grades and degrees
Of formal schooling
To the challenge and discovery
Of dangerous adventure sports
And the many misadventures they naturally provide.
It’s included being initiated into
And doing strenuous religious disciplines
And the good old all-American discipline
Of raising and supporting a family.
It’s also included the pain and suffering
Of life-threatening injuries and accidents
And heart-threatening divorces.
But in all of this, looking back in retirement,
I’m not sure I ever got a complete rite of passage experience.
Did I somehow miss a step
Or feel the next level would give
What the last hadn’t?
Was there an insatiable need for more,
Bigger, better, more powerful hits of Life
To prepare me for what,
A bigger scope and experience of Living?
Was I stuck, and am I still,
In some arrested development;
Part way out of a shell, cracked but hard as iron
A soul confused by what it means to manifest?
Maybe it wasn’t just a matter of becoming
A more mature person
As much as a more complete being,
One whose idea of complete while incomplete
Is ever expanding.
From the perspective of the Infinite
What is an appropriate Rite of Passage?
From the perspective of God
What is the step we have to take
To be complete?
Complete surrender, complete realization,
Complete and perfect communion
Effort and release
To complete the path we youthfully took up in vain
Before we ever could conceive
It is, and always has been, without end…
(8/9/26)