Long Encroached Poems
Long Encroached Poems. Below are the most popular long Encroached by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Encroached poems by poem length and keyword.
An Evil War
They walk the plains of sun-dried grass,
together in a row;
the mothers, with their young ones, pass
to search for food and go
for miles with thirst to find a drink;
as dry season appears.
They walk along, each one in sync,
alert with eyes and ears.
On different paths, the males walk too
to feed as they patrol,
and somehow they, with inner clue,
all find a water hole.
And peacefully they live their days,
adapt to nature's reign
that serves them well to drink and graze
and procreate their strain.
But space in their domain is less...
encroached by humankind,
uncaring of the crowding stress
they leave on them behind.
Still worse, they have become aware
of threats of crueler kind,
and learned to watch, to hide, beware
of horrors which they find.
So oft they see a sight disturbed...
sprawled out along their path;
a member of their precious herd...
they trumpet loud with wrath.
They stop and mourn like humans do,
stand vigil, shocked and chilled;
caress the faceless friend they knew...
who for his tusks...was killed.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Evil Is Everywhere
Sponsor: Brian Davey
Judged: 10/08/2016
BBC News: The War On Elephants: April 28, 2016
"Bloated and eerily upright the large adult elephant was still standing where it had been killed - just next to the stream - its face hacked off....It had been fleeing the carnage in the mud 100m or so away, where the remains of four other adults and one young elephant lay fallen and disfigured, their tusks and trunks all taken for ivory and meat. Like a macabre statue, this faceless animal stood as a landmark to the horrors of poaching, of the ivory trade, and of the mass slaughter of the last remaining elephants in central Africa...
“It's worth so much more than just the animals. It's about trying to stabilise a whole region which has been unstable for decades. It's about trying to basically build peace. And that is why we wake up every morning, why everyone fights this war, and why we try and save the elephants. It's about basically saving Congo. On 23 April 2016, three rangers were killed in a fresh clash with poachers. Park manager Erik Mararv and another ranger were badly injured."
Humans have long trespassed
and destroyed animal territories
Humans have poached
And selfishly encroached
upon animal habitats
cutting down trees to build
human habitations.
Now the tables have turned
Humans are quarantined in house arrest
while some lie sick in bedrest
So animals not usually seen are having a fields day
roaming upon roads, crossing the streets.
Reclaiming the once jungle lands,
that had been turned into concrete urban jungles.
It's better that busy humans now become photoholic
than forever queueing
in lines of heavy traffic.
Without human pollution,
nature is all the more photogenic
Mother nature all a creation of God
has now had many of us grounded
as she gives us a hiding
while we go into hiding.
Extraordinary turn of events indeed!!
In several countries round the world:
Discos and casinos vacated
Pubs and nightclubs evacuated
Bars shutdown for lockdown
People are behind bars instead of guzzling beer in bars
and instead of animals behind bars.
Humans compelled to hibernate
so animals busted their cell gate
Priorly animals were in an enclosure
Now they are getting free exposure
Self-centred humans cared mostly about themselves
but now the animal kingdom is the cynosure
Animals were shut in cages
and now human activity is under similar closure.
Ah, this corona crisis!
Is all this mercenary stasis
for humans a roasting nemesis?
A heavy price to pay for rapacious carelessness and arrogance
where humans acted like they are in control, like they
are controllers of this planet
and they could do anything they wish with it.
It's ignorance to think all this is mere coincidence.
Im relieved our Islamic prayers can be said any place, anywhere
to kneel and bow to the one true real sustainer of the universe.
We need to invoke and supplicate to the creator
who is still in control...
as prayer can really truly prevent fear and anxiety in such scary times.
"I suddenly realised that coincidence is a word we use when we are ignorant of the real causes." - Albert Salvadó
(I was impressed by the news story in which Kuwait had sent a special plane to Italy to specially evacuate their nationals from there when Italy was heavily stricken with the corona virus)
In gilded chains, he wandered blind,
Love's cruel mirror, the heart entwined.
Seven years, a dance of pain,
Her laughter echoed, a siren’s bane.
Red flags waved a storm in disguise,
Yet in the tempest, he sought her skies.
A heart so wide, he sheltered her lies,
While she wandered, seeking fleeting highs.
Death's grip held him, feeble and frail,
Yet she slipped from their home, a nightingale's trail,
To meet a stranger beneath the bar's glow,
Her heart cold as winter, her deceit to sow.
A masquerade of sanity, “It's all in your mind,”
Her venomous whispers left scars intertwined.
She twisted the truth, a masterful thief,
And in the whirlwind of turmoil, he sought relief.
In a wedding of silence, vows rusted and torn,
With each whispered promise, new wounds were born.
Her smile a dagger, her love a cruel jest,
While shadows encroached on his hopeful quest.
Four years of silence, a symphony grim,
As she tore at the seams of his faith, ever dim.
Until, with blatant disdain, she gambled his heart,
Cheating in daylight, tearing his world apart.
In the wreckage of love, toxic fumes burned,
He gathered his courage each lesson learned.
Yet whispers of innocence she fervently spread,
While he bore the burden of the love that she fed.
Half a home vanished, and treasures of old,
His father's ring, a love story sold.
In the silence of absence, his spirit reclaims,
A flicker of hope in the ashes of shame.
Through heartbreak, he wandered, the path redefined,
Encounters anew, where warmth intertwines.
She graced him with kindness, a soft, tender light
Yet shadows emerged, her truth took to flight.
In solitude, she spiraled, a life overthrown,
All friendships dissolved, and in silence, alone,
She gazed into mirrors of choices now made
Regret draped her shoulders, her gladness betrayed.
While he learned to soar, with wings wide and free,
The man once ensnared now dances with glee.
Though years built on torment left scars that won’t fade,
In the tapestry of healing, new colors were laid.
So raise a glass to the wounds we survive,
To love that teaches us how to revive.
For even in shadows, the soul finds its way,
To bloom in the sunlight, reborn from dismay.
Poet of Perkiomen Valley
discovered aforementioned titled poem
about thirty months ago he wrote
impossible mission critters to smote
chronic issue yours truly does note
years later meaning today
April 19th, 2022
necessitated we allow, enable
and provide welcome to exterminator
actually management did hote
(obsolete) To command; to enjoin
hazard upon body, mind and spirit,
thus ridding apartment b44
visited by said swarming insects,
his expertise sought to mitigate
courtesy applying insecticide.
Insects created dark shadows
analogous brought outer limits
of twilight zone
resembling edge of night
in truth our one bedroom apartment
at that earlier date
affected, encroached, and outsmarted
by massive infestation of
Drosophila melanogaster light
weight winged worst
pests to eradicate
(scientific name regarding
winged flitting nuisance ignite
mentioned in title) besieged,
inundated, and thickly swarm.
dost primp and pretty
fie themselves (to
attract a witty
mate) during their
40 to 50 days city,
or suburban life
cycle long enough
to qualify for this
quickly written ditty
seemingly overnight
a bajillion biz zee
buzzing adults (each
about 1/8 inch long see
their world wide web,
thru at least one
unusual red eye,
which compound eye
of the fruit fly
contains 760 unit
eyes or ommatidia, well nigh
hapt tubby one of the most
advanced among insects,
where Google search
for home remedies aye
didst find to exterminate
these teeny weeny pests,
plus informational pursuit my
instantaneous curiosity yielded
above mentioned
esoteric tidbits,
sans accidentally disc
covered helpful good riddance
material of household ingredients
restraining me to breathe sigh
of dollop, and hope to try
one or more solutions,
which informed
this amateur entomologist -
listed forthright as:
1. Create a trap by mixing
apple cider vinegar
with a few drops of dish soap.
2. Another homemade trap is to
pour leftover red wine into a jar.
3. Mash up banana slices in a jar, and
cover top with a plastic wrap.
4. Pour bleach solution
into bathroom sink.
5. Detonate atomic explosives
as a last resort.
I couldn’t find my glasses this morning when I got out of my bed…
and as my hands groped around feeling for them…Asia popped into my head.
Asia was a beautiful, blind Autistic student I had many years ago…one I tried desperately to reach…which, thankfully, also left me open to all she had to teach.
Asia lived in the world she was born into…the world her fate designed…
she taught me I had to enter into her world before I could welcome her into mine.
Asia talked to herself incessantly…she had this running conversation going on inside her head…and it appeared this running conversation was way more interesting than anything I did or said.
One day I got this bright idea…I sat down and listened to the conversations in her head…then I began repeating…everything she said.
I remember the first time I did this…Asia paused, smiled then slowly swayed her head…
and when her head brushed up against my shoulder, “Is that you Yerman.” She said.
When I told her it was me who without being invited had encroached upon her space…she reached her hand up gently and began to feel my face.
She didn’t care what color my skin was, my age, my weight, my sex…these things she could not see…she only cared that, through the magic of her hands, she was beginning to recognize me.
From that moment on whenever I sat next to her…in the glow of her smile I’d bask…
and when I started repeating what she said…”Is that You, Yerman” she’d ask.
Then she’d feel my face and laugh…sometimes, I think she laughed a bit too much…which made me wonder if my face which I thought handsome in the mirror…
wasn’t as handsome to the touch.
And this was how we taught each other…with my eyes I helped, a little, to set Asia free
and in her blindness she taught me…you don’t need eyes to see.
Perhaps when it comes to getting along…being blind to our differences is the key…
Perhaps closing our eyes and opening our hearts is the best way for us to see.
When I finally found my glasses, and my blurriness had cleared…
for what it’s worth…
The first thing I did was close my eyes
and wish we had more Asias on this Earth.
Stung with the absence of his father, he excruciatingly rumbled deep inside of his mother’s womb.
He stormed out already filled with disappointing void.
The mother’s joy was of uncertainty.
Memories of her husband, flashed back right in her face once again.
She could feel the exhaustion of a lifetime encircled around her and the weight and magnanimity of raising the beautiful baby on her own.
Two years creeped by and the bond between them was legendary.
The love was so constant and consistent, like the sun will rise.
Their friendship thrived through the encroached stormy desert.
Her wings unfolded like an angel, extraordinarily patient as a lion hunting.
The fondness between them was as phenomenal as THE SERPENT GOD at chichen Itza, that he was unceremoniously detached from her.
A devastation of a 4-5 year old separation to a foreign land, felt like an erupted-never-ending-volcanic-nightmare.
The purpose of that crushing disconnection, was feeble.
he was starved off of food, shelter and raiment.
Apportioned milk from animals became the only privilege given.
The purest and cleanest form of consumed water, was of a residual of donkeys streamed through the shin of an old dirty black slave man.
An occasional feasting on birds, caught through invented-trapping.
With innocence, he’ll apathetically rip the head, feathers of the little creatures with bare hands, bury them in the sand of the mountain top desert, hours later, it’s BEANO.
He was deprived of even just a glimpse of his family for all those years, he wimped in loneliness.
And on a dark frightful night, came the growl of the famous fox, but he survived.
Life is fickle and comes without no warning and can’t be anticipated.
Survival can not be measured by *echoes* of preventions, it is destined and destiny is not always a gift.
The tale unfolds in hardship, a narrative woven through the threads of resilience and survival. The bond between mother and child, tested by separation, echoes the unpredictable journey of life—a journey marked by both strength and vulnerability.
Deep in your peaceful mind,
confusion starts.
Like volcanic eruption.
Deep down the depths,
of the dark blue sea.
Your heart and soul collide.
In Conflict, Causing a rift.
Like the tectonic plates,
that collide and shift.
Disturbances are brewing inside yourself
Concealed by your demeanour.
Smile, that camouflages your despair.
Like the tsunsmi that originates,
below the unfathomable depths.
She cannot be seen or heard,
on the surface of the calm sea.
when all avenues you expend,
to solution find.
And hope narrows down.
You garner all your strength peacefully.
When the depths of ocean,
recedes close to land.
She gathers all her strength,
and sucks the sea along the shore.
You use all your vocal,
physical means to express.
The pain, your anguish,
and your hidden desire.
Exploding in a frenzy,
that Impacts humanity.
The tsunsmi she rises,
to great heights,
Rearing her mighty head.
Rushing to the shore,
Destroying all that's in her path.
Conquering land masses.
Changing the contours of the coast.
Causing loss of life.
Having vociferously convinced humanity,
Regarding your wishes and needs.
You have victoriously conquered,
those who opposed your plea.
Wisdom prevails ,You carry them with you.
Occasionally there could be casualties.
Having expended all her energy,
she receeds back to her rightful state.
Taking along the spoils of her fury.
Nature and humanity are entwined in a way.
Nature expresses her displeasure,
not because she is outraged.
Its only when the balance,
of nature is disturbed.
Her energies so expended,
creating natural calamities.
As for the human casualties?
It's humans who encroached,
Into natures way and space.
Human calamities are caused
by the imbalance of mind,
heart and soul.
Matter of intellectual bankruptcy.
The thinking mind remains static.
Does not evolve with the changing times.
Nature she does not have this gift.
She can only do what she does best.
Accumulate and expend,
energies in her natural state.
The road to my backyard is long and straight
Evergreen trees abound and provide welcome shade
Home to myriad birds, butterflies and the bees
Last summer their branches were sawn off, without notice
The orgy with power-saws lasted barely a day
The trees shorn of foliage, the limbless torsos remained
To secure the safety of a VIP on a state visit
To a smog-laden metropolis, labouring hard to breathe
A few years back, we moved house to an oasis of green
But now, the storm of development is relentlessly closing in
Razing and levelling with electric saws and bull dozers
And a host of equipment used by modern day builders
Pile drivers mounted on rigs clump through the day
Unrelenting even at night, when the elusive foxes bay
Grieving in the darkness with plaintive howls
For a vanishing habitat where his endangered kin prowls
They have acquired fish farms and farmland
And even encroached on the protected wetlands
Which naturally dispose tons of city waste
In danger of destruction due to greed and haste
Truckloads of rubble are dumped every day
The pace is frenetic, even in sweltering May
Toiling hard for masters, who’ve deadlines to meet
And citizens to house, from whom votes they’ll seek
A haze of dust now covers construction sites
The pace doesn’t slacken here, even at nights
Construction materials arrive here daily by the truckloads
And given shape by workmen, as planned on drawing boards
What was once green cover and blue sky
Will be concrete monoliths, stretching up very high
With parking lots and asphalt streets
And billboards and neon signs, ready to be leased
No longer will fields of mustard flowers sway sinuously in spring
Nor ripe ears of golden corn bob gently in the wind
The sounds of frogs and crickets are a memory of the past
Songbirds have fled, deprived of their natural habitat
Slowly the memory of winter’s migratory birds will fade
Never again, the razed canopy of green, provide cooling shade
As I walk through my ravaged neighbourhood, I wonder why
Impotent rage pervades through me and I silently cry
My jeans I’d wear, twirling in the air
the cousins, loved those kids; I’d
see them hardly ever, flying, laughing,
rising. Mother couldn’t understand
the wriggling out of the purple dress;
nails were temporarily permanent,
bought in Poughkeepsie, when it
was safe for teenagers to shop by
themselves.
In thirty plus years,
my daughter-in-law would be approached
and encroached upon; she’d chase off
the ho-supplier. Not far, not far at all
from my childhood neighborhood.
My friend and I look at jewelry, but buy
an assortment of polishes for our eyes
and nails. Purple would fill the nailbed,
on the unwrinkled, no need to iron hands.
Could I explain,
time, cannot be bottled;
tears jeans, cracks nails, hammers.
Could I imagine a son, a daughter-in-law;
not a thought
unless we played the game
of
crisscross.
We’d write down places, numbers, names of boys,
- we’d see where we’d live, how many kids, and
find out who we’d marry,
no one
expected me
to fly
militar-ily
find that guy
who followed me
to places
in disguise.
In purple skies
at cross purposes
we intersect
I now know - where, how many, his name, and more.
Simpler days, would I return the polish and the friend?
I remember the celebration, followed by the divorce.
I remember his daughter, at five - she’d survive
his death. I’d not forfeit the purple polish - in the end,
before my marriage, three kids, in-laws, grands;
I’d not sail away from Sandy - I’d play a game;
it’s been a long, long, long time since we sat
in our grandparent’s house, in her Dad’s absence,
and behaved as cousins, fourteen years apart.
Outside of civil man’s well tended garden,
A field of briars willfully encroached,
Threatening the peaceful flowers without pardon.
Oh these gardeners fought hard as the briars approached.
“You don’t belong here, you’re not good enough!”
“You are snarled with iniquity and with thorns.”
“You live a life so very harsh and rough…”
“What good can you bring?” they said with deep seated scorn.
And the briar replied that hot summer day,
“Deep within these unforgiving boughs
Lives a flower who doesn’t have much to say
Except a story concerning what you espouse.”
“You see there lives a dragon scorned just over the way,
Who tossed opportunity and harbingers to the wind,
Because life is glorious and he loves to play…
Carefree and cavalier is how his days were spent.”
“He playfully trampled gardens carefully tended,
By pious gardeners without wings who would never fly,
Until he happened upon a flower wonderfully scented,
Crimson in color, the flower reflected beauty in his eye,”
“Eagerly he reached forward to make it his own,
But this glorious flower was protected by thorns,
And gave the dragon a prick to change his tone,
And it was in that prick that true love was born.”
“Now the dragon is older and has spent his days,
Watching over this rose, the love of his life,
Learning about beauty and awe inspiring ways.
His world now protected by thorn and briar.”
“He has discovered great beauty and learned much,
And no longer does the dragon destroy with fire.”
“But should you gardeners even dare to touch
A single branch or bough in this tangled briar…”
“You will face both the Dragon and the Rose,
Who with great love now protect each other,
From pious gardeners who would have them go,
Because neither can be kept on a tether.”
“So snip your lilies and pluck your weeds,
Make your lives as perfect as they can be,
For in this harsh briar we continue to watch love grow,
That of a magnificent Dragon and the beautiful Rose.”