Long Enslaves Poems
Long Enslaves Poems. Below are the most popular long Enslaves by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Enslaves poems by poem length and keyword.
Like a master of self-deception
Earnest beliefs and conviction
Throw’s woven rows potter’s dust rose
Tears flow my sorrow grows
Intentions to impose judgments
No more love with disappointments
Grudges need to be relinquished
Gateway to reality arose extinguished
Old dreams new ones replenished
Heavy fray rope no longer enslaves me in bondage
Cool breeze freely moving cloaking my cheeks at long last
Falling no longer , but am the person I acknowledge
Satisfying heart, no longer an echo of the past
bleeding scars untold
relinquished emerald green
letting go h-e-a-l-i-n-g
4/8/2016
- Poetry Contest : Letting Go-Three Form Style
Sponsored by: Laura Loo
Carpe diem.
Life can turn on a dime.
One moment you may be engrossed in a book and the next,
it's as though time...Time slips away, taking with it your imagination and civility.
Time steals your identity.
It fractures under the daily stresses.
Life....., OH life! It totally depresses.
You stand on an icy pond, frozen... sub zero temperatures.
Then suddenly it cracks beneath your feet, it ruptures.
You try to hold on, before long..... you're gone!
The cold, inviting-biting all the way to your very core.
All of your memories good and bad begin to soar.
Your last breath, your lungs filled with filthy pond water.
You sink down deeper and deeper, nothing else matters.
The last thoughts you pondered.
-What could I have done differently?
-What other options were there?... taking all precautions.
I have tried to see it through others eyes.
But linger the questions; what, where and why?
Carpe diem is a word many say.
When karma decides to have her own way.
Like a serpent, in the night!
Large enough to devour you, she may strike.
It is time that enslaves us all.
Good or bad, big or small.
Each decision made. Each word spoken.
A gift, a journey, a trial, lives stolen.
We may feel as though we are protected.
But the system is set, your minds redirected.
We live in the matrix. A maze, just like mice.
Derived, deprived. A roll of the dice.
Have you ever Russian Roulette?
One bullet in the chamber, cocking the gun. Life's regret.
With each and every breath you take.
Remember and know what's at stake.
Do on to others as you wish done to you.
Because the frozen pond is your life, it can crack too.
With all seriousness set aside.
Life and time, a wild ride.
Always remember karma may come.
Do on to others as you want done!
~mp (copyright protected )
With love from Venezuela to the people of the United States of America.
Once upon a time were one of the most prosperous nations of South America.
Our nation once upon a time was a democracy and a representative government. Elected to represent our beloved homeland. But our hopes and our dreams have been washed away by Socialist tyranny and a dedicator who enslaves.
And improvised its people. We do not have enough food to eat. We long for safe places to be able to sleep. All who fight for freedom, even those brave souls. Who came from the United States, were arrested as agitators against, our government. They were the true freedom fighters, who were not paid and trained professional communists agitators. Which are running rampart on the streets of America today! "If the black people are not careful they could lose their country." Almost just exactly as we have lost ours!
If America does intervene, they will become involved. In a qua mire worse than the Vietnam War. It was a promise engraved in stone by our El Presidenta. Who clocks his misdeeds under the guise of the highest title of a governmental official. When he is nothing more than a paid and highly trained Communist agitator. South America has been plagued by a series of dictators and revolutionists. Who made false mandates and proclamations to the unfortunate South American people. But he stands heads and tails above them all!
In America people are still free to protest and speak out about their governmental leaders. Anyone caught doing that in Venezuela today
would be taken out and shot. I would not be in the least surprised if they
choose the Mexican execution by firing squads! Any one chanting Viva La Freedom! Viva La liberty! Would be taken out and shot! He or she would be imprisoned and tortured!
I am speaking out for the people who have no freedom. I am speaking out
for those who have no voice or no hope of their own. I am beseeching the throne room of God on their behalf as well as the people of Hong Kong!
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
July 07, 2020
This is a poem about Poverty
Burns like a dragon with multiple Limbs
consumes like a voracious vampire
which is dangerous even at sunlight.
This is a familiar Beast well known.
It functions from the inside to the outside
manifests with a paralytic effect
and kills like the venom of the Black mamba
It's hooks spare not the captured
not even those who seem redeemed.
It alters its victim's representation
like a new book turn old and dusty
and turns a bright head to a Crook.
This Demon prospers in its prey's lack,
a bad Master which enslaves with gross limitations
front and back.
Acting like a dark force
as it dominates and reign supreme
makes the situation so wack.
It lines the predicaments of the suppressed
in a rack,
as the monster destroys with each evil smack
rendering their remains, unworthy of a pack
and totally condemning their lives to the sack.
Becoming free!
Is not too far from the right track,
just consider a role model in Mark
and finally the nightmare will let go
when the mind is put to a self-hack.
In the twilight’s amber glow,
Where secrets of the bottle flow,
Reason dims, and shadows creep,
In liquid courage, demons sleep.
A whisper in the mind’s retreat,
Echoes loud, distorting beat,
Calmness fades in fiery waves,
Memory lingers, sense enslaves.
Impaired by false elation's glee,
Bound in chains we cannot see,
Rage ignites, a spark, a flare,
Inhibitions stripped to bare.
Ghosts of anger, sorrow's past,
Surface in a reckless blast,
Words like daggers, actions wild,
Lost the calm of once a child.
Blame the drink, it’s easy said,
But deeper roots in hearts are bled,
Wounds unhealed, a silent storm,
In the depths, true pain takes form.
So when spirits fuel the flame,
Look within, address the shame,
For the violence, the fight begun,
Is but the war of lost and won.
New Beginnings in Stone
Now rising from a silhouette stronghold stands in its shadow, a servant’s heart
Enters tenacious consecrated emptiness as hope ponders three distant pipes
When black crust lichen invades – enslaves - the mason’s ancient framework
Bits of falling pebbles facelift rough cheeks pitted by mortar’s mortal tears
Even as granite blocks shudder in grieving poverty of unsettled gloom
Grabs at careless jaundice of moss and age - scribed ascent of ancient angels
In three corniced images of corn and elephants restored -
Nascent tree of life woven into a fabric of stone
Navigates new christened knights and chisels to one Nativity
In a carved and raised relief that points to the empty Sunday morning tomb
Gospel message told in vaulted arches -in rainbows of alabaster illumination -
Soaring sandstone above sanctified crypts of holy mysteries, legend entwined
Intrigue of time – visions of a hallowed grail, lost to crusaders’ eyes,
Noble dream to beatify three times three prophecies of the anointed
Strong walls like Templar’s arms guard breathing stone in carved canopies
Tales of a blessed grail protected in a new grail, synonym for the redeemed,
On armored feet for pilgrim’s eyes searching holy treasure in stone
Now a living citadel of a new beginning with no
End in three persons.
Dedicated to the restoration, the new life, of Rosslyn Chapel, Scotland.
My strides left shallow imprints 'pon a sandy shore
Gulls cried out in alarm and swarmed cornflower skies
My thoughts turned to Avalon of King Arthur's lore
while dawn broke as an amber yoke in morn's sunrise
I shielded my eyes from the sea's shimmering waves
sauntering restlessly with a sorrowful soul
mourning my aggrieved heart, a heart that love enslaves
My grief spills in the shallows of this rocky shoal
Salty breeze, please chase away my tears of despair
Tell me how to heal or in anguish I shall die
Wounded by pillaged love, my emotions laid bare
I walk this shore, begging my ache to mollify
My footprints 'pon the sand and hope submerged in doubt
I plead for a flood of faith to end passion's drought
October 1, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 15
Sponsored by Mark Toney
I’ll not be the mask of your madness
I’ll not be the whip of your demands
I’ll not be the drug of your habit
I’ll not be the dough in your hands
I’ll not be the doll that’s your play thing
I’ll not be the container of your need
I’ll not be the victim of your anger
I’ll not be the object of your greed
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’ll the bread that he feeds on
I’ll be the water that he drinks
I’ll be the cloud that he walks on
I’ll be the thoughts that he thinks
I’ll be the tent that he dwells in
I’ll be the heaven that he dreams
I’ll be the angel that he wants
I’ll be the sparkle in his stream
I'll be the star that he follows
I'll be the sun’s warmth on his chest
I'll be the moon that allures him
I'll be the treasure of his quest
I'll be the fairy of his woodland
I'll be the seductress of his need
I'll be the breast that he lies on
I'll be the dogma of his creed
I’ll be the honey that he savors
I’ll be the dessert that he craves
I’ll be the sea that he dips in
I’ll be the virgin he enslaves
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I would have been all that to you
I gladly would have made you king
But you gave all that to another
Now you must taste my bitter sting
You must watch his hands caress me
You must see his mouth devour
You must hear my sighs of pleasure
You must curse the betrayal hour
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Slaves to Perception….
Perception is influenced by probability judgments formed on the basis of earlier actions performed in similar situations
And I think I know
As much as I know of a triangle and breathed in the number three, all of this unto me all of this unto me.
If the premise was true the conclusion was true,
But how would I know the conclusive evidence: that product which is truth when the addends divulged were false, and the addends are always false as truths evolve and reemerge as new philosophies…
And Even as a poet I have learned from a defamed philologist that words get in the way…
The sum of it all is out there somewhere in the ether… floating aloft in a grey heather or the black vastness of space
Aloft a mist or rather it is a mystery
just
JUST clanking, ringing along in eternity with all those other eternal truths just beyond my knowing…
I derived a conclusion, intuited from a premise… like a hound to a fox…yet red herrings abound when you’re around… and I chase logical fallacies and grab kite’s strings…that pull me along with the rhythm the beat of your pulse,
If the woman is sick she will vomit,
If she vomited, she was poisoned.
In similar situations, the premises are all smoke and mirrors and the looking glass no clearer through the dregs of Domain Romanee Conti products…I saw your one eye peer at me…sizing me up outwitting me poking jest at love: that tomfoolery.
And simple biological permutations of something that renders itself as love is what you seek and what I know to be the opinion of each is different for all the same reality. If we assign meaning in our own minds to each act--an action of reality-- Why then would it matter to engage? To indulge and assign meaning and perception to anything? That simply enslaves us all.
We'll run to the side of the river
In the morning at five o'clock
We'll hold each other and shiver
And run out to the rock
We'll take off our shirts together
And hold each other undressed
Around us the birds will gather
And in our love build a nest
We'll put our heads together
And watch, as the speedy stream
Is dressed in every color
And turns into a dream -
The pink cloud of the sun rising
Engulfs our minds and hearts
And makes them warm and wise and
With all of nature, smart -
The delicacy of existence
Ephemerality of life
Will penetrate with no resistance
And pierce into us like a knife -
The tenderness of our passion
And elegance of your mind
In English, in French, in Russian
Will hold us intertwined
Poems will fly around us
As music us enslaves -
Cosmic opera astounds us
And mingle with the waves -
The works of Bethoven, Chopin,
Blake, Wordsworth, Shakespeare and Keats
Will our minds and hearts open
And feed them spiritual sweets -
And fired by our desires,
Together, as in a dream,
We'll blend into the sunrise
And like the sun we will beam.