Long Endeavoured Poems
Long Endeavoured Poems. Below are the most popular long Endeavoured by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Endeavoured poems by poem length and keyword.
Shadowland
Chained to the addiction of tempting Fate
What if I told you that my life was once like yours?
Torn between love and hate
A shadow silhouette lurking between life and death
Fuelled by an emptiness to which I couldn’t relate
Caution to the wind of besting the best,
A devious test?
Sweet sensations winning an egotistical contest
Life on the edge, merely a precarious precipice
Exhilarated ego threw flames to the flame
The fire inside couldn’t be tamed
Comforts of home failed to exist
Love I yearned for endeavoured to resist
Mind effortlessly lied, failing to grasp the illusion
between confused, lost and utter delusion
Life on the streets a means beyond the dare
Sink or swim baby, did anyone care?
Till the one eventful day when I chanced it too far
Catastrophic event out of nowhere in shape of a car
A sickening thud
My frivolous life paid in blood
My death in vain and loss of blooming years
Too late like acidic rain flowed those tears
What if I told you if you don’t already know?
The concise connotation
through electric flashes of blue and red
of the loudest despairing dread
When they zipped the bag and pronounced you dead?
And you become a glimmer that nobody sees
and the silent scream that nobody hears
Except other shadows between worlds
In an intermundane space
Torn between abstract, physical and a forgotten face
Temptation came as I sat here waiting
To switch sides, she urgently advised me
I saw through her guise, this diabolical entity
I’m not an Angel that fits in your regular category
So, I spat in her eye and called her a name
Oops! sorry Lord forgive me I know you heard
Some of my old sass remains
Still new to the game
Yes, understood, it’s a crying shame.
So back to my story
Redemption came in the grand scheme
I was one of the fortunate few redeemed
So, take heart, kid, abandoned to this shadowland
Not anymore
No more a wandering weary soul lost
Fate was not kind it was never your fault
Conducting your journey
to me the charge has been given
Through a leap of faith all is forgiven
I beg your forgiveness for I am not long for this world. Happenstance has led me down this path so crooked and forlorn. Misery has preceded my path and darkened my senses all but torn. Mistakes have illuminated my way though their light be a fallacy; an illusion to comfort a tortured mind, riddled with confusion and false fancy. ‘Tis only just to forgive me sisters, I am not long for this world.
An image wreaks havoc with my memory. A picture so horrendous the effects of its trauma echo through the hallways of time. The sight that for all my life I was so grateful to possess, leads me now to curse what gods may be that granted it me. For surely had I never seen the sight of him, cold and lifeless, I would have eventually endeavoured to be healed in my spirit. The fault is mine; it was never him but I that had the capacity to change. ‘Tis only right to forgive me father, I am not long for this world.
My middle name should rather have been disappointment. That is all I have ever delivered to her who brought me into the world and nurtured an infant into a lady. I call her Gaia, that is her spirit name. My existence has put lines on her face prematurely and caused her to despair time and time again. The audacity of me now to leave this earth without ever having produced for her a grandchild. The insolence of leaving only words to counter the preponderance of condolences from rejoicing enemies that shall now assail and abuse her. My soul is repentant, twas never the intent to hurt your heart dear Gaia. ; Tis only compassionate to forgive me mother, I am not long for this world.
As for the empty future that awaits me. No children to carry on the memory of me. No great achievements to render my life the content of legend. No great works to immortalise me in poem and prose. No others to mourn the passing of a life most unremarkable. Nothing but things, regrettable decisions, words left unsaid and the cold sound of silence to mark that most auspicious event. Death finds me waiting and unafraid with only the last words to pass from these lips; ‘tis only fair to forgive me self, for we are not long for this world.
They always made me happy,
The camels of the wise men,
The slowness of their footsteps,
Their self-sufficient ben.
Camels meant there was time,
For the three wise men to think,
To ponder upon their task,
To review their role as a link.
They were required to assess,
The child to be called god’s son,
To see if he could be a doctor,
To the poor, and to be the action.
Mary and Joseph were important,
To their question of universal worth,
So they prepared themselves well,
With questions surrounding his birth.
They understood that environment,
Is a factor in child development,
So endeavoured to contextualise,
The place of the baby’s commencement.
They predicted they’d be rejected,
By townsmen all along the way,
Spat at, maybe jousted with,
By loitering agitators arbitrarily.
Especially at the door of the inn,
There’d be jesters and jostlers alike,
People shouting “Don’t go there!
Avoid them, and get on another bike!”
And equally importantly, with respect,
They thought of their theology,
That their own actions may be vital,
To improving others’ sociology.
They considered their belief,
In an immanently coming messiah,
And renewed their vow to choose,
A protege who would take us higher.
So by the time they reached the inn,
They were very much prepared,
They could talk to each other freely,
About the saviour that’d been blared.
And the camels facilitated all this,
Preparation and consideration,
And gave the magi their pondering,
Upon seeing the configuration.
They enabled this baby to thrive,
Gave his family his manifestation,
And felt spent entirely at their visit,
Worn out by careful deliberation.
Muse, you didn’t offer excuses to hold my hand
To walk and talk to the flagging courage
Weeping and seeping into the stamina gland
Where years of interaction on the educational stage
Yielded fields of unexpected benefits
I accrued from the investment you made in my person
Learning, teaching, editing the list of tweets
I dared and cared to ensnare in every lesson
My broken bones and swollen muscles
Endeavoured to flavor as you and I did communicate
On the chalk board in ninety minute corpuscles
Riding in our blood dared to dictate, not to desecrate
The warmth you exuded as you took over my teaching role
Spinning my brain, pinning down my despair, leaning your shoulder
To spell for me the scale I embraced to give up the droll
Approach and technique you taught me could move the boulder
That limited the view you held as to ways I could improve
My teaching craft if only I could rework my draft
Over and over again to delete passages that couldn’t move
My performance forward if a blessed benefits raft
Should finally open my eyes to the greatness your love
Appreciation, support and faith could blend and lend to the path
That led to the pinnacle your suave personality raised above
The mediocrity I walked worshipping the poetry path Sylvia Plath
Opened for my sojourn in search of the companionship
I didn’t know would metamorphose my struggles into accomplishments
Fed and led to a ship that grew into the friendship
For which I hankered to fly into achievements
You made possible
Cos you made me believe against belief
Sterling performances I once thought impossible
You would catalyze to grant limpid life to my academic relief.
I remember when I met you...
I was just a scared kid who knew
Life was thirsty for all my tears.
You told me it would be okay,
I believed, but to my dismay,
You were wrong...it was what I feared.
Your optimism did nothing...
Except make this all more crushing,
Like I’m being stabbed by a spear.
Well, I guess life just likes to sting,
As it devours lovely things,
And empties my soul ‘til it’s clear.
I remember when I met you...
Neither of us had any clue,
That you would leave the world so soon.
You told me all would be benign...
Did you think that lying was fine?
Melancholy, life’s worst tune...
Music to it’s horrible ears,
As it watches us cry for years,
And darkness touches sky at noon.
People like you deserve better,
Not the short life you’d endeavoured,
Ruthless like winter in mid June.
But...as I stand next to your grave,
Beautiful music of heaven
Washes over me like a wave.
For the "A Poem about DEATH" Contest
Sponsored by Broken Wings (Constance)
Theme was "devours lovely things."
Form was Hutinashro (I had to try out my new form a little more)
Rhyme scheme is Aabccbddbeeb Aabccbddbeeb aba
Slightly linked to my poem Isolation
Third Place
5/14/2018
Thanks for reading!
I feel like this is much better than Color, but STILL DOESN'T USE THE DARN IAMBIC TETRAMETER. So, I'm gonna try to write one with iambic tetrameter soon. For MORE clarification. (And to prove that I know what I'm doing.)
We gave up our unity
With each and every barrier;
Abandoned integrity
Ushers in each disaster.
With our “narrow domestic walls”,
We all live in a cocoon;
Do we ever answer Nature’s call?
How do we expect her boon?
We defiled her to the utmost;
Aye! We love to hate;
With our unpremeditated boast,
We’ve brought in such a state.
We endeavoured to 'modernise'
This world of ours;
Nature will now all traumatise;
No lenience of flowers.
Corona’s raid,
Amphan’s dread
Turns us all afraid;
Once, Nature bled.
It’s time, it’s time,
When we must get unified;
Unity should chime,
Else we’ll get more petrified.
It’s the moment, it’s the moment,
When we all must sympathise;
To get rid of such confinement,
Let’s this earth re-naturalise.
With Pride, Envy, Lust,
We’ve made this earth an inferno;
With Greed, with Disgust,
We do suffer the bleeding blow.
One good deed a day,
At least, if we do,
We’ll keep the storms away;
We’ll feel ever-new.
Let’s renovate each thought;
Let’s renovate our aspect;
Things won’t be brought to naught;
Let’s love, and unite, and respect.
-
James Foley a rebelious man within his clan
Lends a hand to his neighbour's eviction and land
Decided in a church yard chat of alarm
A process served on a man is evil and darned
Evicted from thatch is fearful in that there is no where to go
They band in the mist on a boheen grass strip await the post man's right hand
The process appears the postman he nears he waits then bowls near the crowd
He fronts the large gang of vagabond brand his letter is blocked y their stand
The post bag is ripped from shoulder and quiped you go and leave this place now
The contents ransacked and process burnt black not delivered for court or for hand
Constables came one hour remains a battering ram then deployed
All scurry on out in fear from a shout leave tears in their door way a jammed
Jail of six months in Limerick they shunt assizes demand of their mane
Their women folk fear the crops needed dear the neighbours gather around in a feat
A cheer and a fire admired by a shire propaganda and telegraph sent
Fair play to those wives revolution aside that church yard endeavoured to dream
My G/Grandfather's act i 1908
Form:
She came from a distant view,
A sexy looker obviously;
All dressed and made up,
Promiscuous consequently.
She had a hardy heart,
Her tongue an acute blade;
One wrong move she needs,
Being nice is not her trade.
Bold and fierce as she could be,
She had no concern for other people,
With no rights but plenty wrongs;
She was anything but feeble.
He gave her his attention,
He was a genuine altruist;
Falling for her was a big mistake,
He was as solemn as an evangelist.
He endeavoured to correct her,
For her weaknesses were great;
A plan to rebuff her selfishness,
Unfortunately he was too late.
For him she was to difficult to control,
Like cherished gems his sensible words;
Which derived from abundance of love,
She was spirited and free as flying birds.
By marrying her he signed and sealed,
He treated her well as wife and friend;
Grace, wisdom and charity he had,
Didn’t know she was an actual fiend.
His heart became a dead man’s heart,
For it did not function any more;
She poisoned him for his money,
Now she resides behind a cell door.
Joan Of Arc
I loved my country, my brethren more dearer
Saved my country from onslaughter of the wicked
In the deadliest of nights by forewarnings of gods
The gaping elders blessed their valorous commander
The enemies dwarfed by a power more gigantic.
The mutual protection of my divine guardians and I
For a country that nurtured and nourished peace
Harmony of my kingdom above all to be protected
Thwarted we with vengeance the trespassers
Lured to our throne and drooling for crown.
Thundering aliens brainwashed the pristine
Dragged and whipped me in a celebratory cry
Froze I on the stake as Jesus on the cross
Tall flames to purification as I reached salvation
Patriots decried while betrayers quipped damnation.
No regrets no disdain, I loved my country true
I no sorceress, I know no witchcraft, nor an angel I
Endeavoured on a path whispered by heavens
Mary heard His message, so did I
One the Blessed, One the Cursed!
September 18, 2015
Contest: Joan Of Arc
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
As i stood at the brink of things
I saw some old some new
Memories
Ushering across
Like a albatross flying along the horizon
Gazing at the tiny earth
Not to be held just
To be felt.
Some passed overhead at majestic heights
Which had weaved my patience at once
My soul once.
Some went past leaving a waling,
Grunting me
Standing on the sea shore ,
On a stormy noon.
The sun with it's ever watchful eyes,
Consoled me.
"Because it's imperative to stand each time you fall."
The forever endeavoured warmth was this.
The tsunami appeared but
Made it a point to stand tall
Each time i fall.
Marched ahead to meet someone special,
Whose smile revisited me every instant
Invoking and involving me
With heart over head
I took a prancing leap forward
Gazing at these memories
With glittering eyes
I took the Crux of me forward
Into the unknown,
Leaving to meet again
For changes
Some pursued
Some sudden,
tranquility unravels.