Long Expect Poems
Long Expect Poems. Below are the most popular long Expect by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Expect poems by poem length and keyword.
Don’t add me to some country if you can
Affiliation of the small to something big
Is not my thing, I’m only what I am
Not greater than I was, and used to be
Don’t mix me with the current politicians
Do not expect that I would stage a coup
I was an artist but I lacked ambition
I do not paint since twenty twenty two
There are much better artists whose conception
Is in someway akin to realism
I don’t belong to that most popular direction
My art is something like anachronism
Nobody buys it anyway, and I can’t sell
The world appears more stupid every day
Dear Lord up there, can you stop this hell
This boring hell, with endless games to play
The devils part became way more expanded
Than it was meant to be in your dividing plan
Return me to my home, for here I’m stranded
Bring back to life my love and me again.
The reflections in your eyes scare me
Yes, they do tend to say to me
Of how fed up you are of all of my actions
As if blinded and deaf I still am towards your revelations
Of course, I do know that I still do make blunders
Why, I am not made of superpowers
I am but a frail being
One whose days without you feel not like they are days being lived!
Yes, for I do ask myself if there do be a life without you
Is there even my being without you
Is there even a tiny beat of my heart without you
Why, you are the guiding force guiding me in all that I do!
Protecting me from the pulls of demons
Saving me from causing to myself, senseless demolitions
Pampering me to more than I did expect
Loving me, loving me as I am, even in my flawed aspect
Yet, as I do look at you, I do see crosses in your eyes
Such does make me let out painful cries
Why, I meant not to harm you, I meant not to ruin you
Rather, I just meant to act like the rest, hoping still, by doing so, to love you!
But hey, muse of mystery, muse of poetry
You remain my lover, you remain my desire
Muse of my moods
Pray, once more, I do ask you to forgive my human broods
See you, separated we are, between us there do be the blue skies
Why, each day I do wonder whether we shall someday tie the knots
A most difficult task it is, our different kinds be at fault
Yes, I do be human, while you do be mystery!
Pray, muse, in your eyes, I wish not to see those crosses
Should there be so, I would see myself as one so gross
Pray muse, do love me still
I shall try not to let myself be pulled by the kind of this world!
Fragmented fantasies collect
yet fail to spark passion's flame.
And painful shadows of regret
morph into nightmares, seeking blame.
He chose to leave, deaf to your plea:
something your heart did not expect.
For, blind to your reality,
forever was hard to accept.
Sifting through the ashes of hate,
love falls victim to phantom fears.
And innocence bemoans its fate;
amidst anguish and silent tears.
Blue velvet skies and gilded lies:
attract a lonely, tortured soul.
Yet when fantasies end, love dies:
and broken hearts, levy a toll.
Yet, hope evokes a magic trance,
whereas past mistakes are erased.
And granting love another chance,
yesterday's players get replaced.
A mountain tarn,
a deep-water eye,
high and blackly gleaming.
A scramble down slippery scree
to look within,
then a tingling apprehension
of being too close
to an unbalanced footing,
one that is a lip between
tilting ground
and an entrance to nowhere.
I can't say what I expect to see,
not the bottom of a mountain,
a dazzling sky-window,
or the depth of my soul perhaps.
What I see there,
quickly buries a teetering image
into a fear-fall.
Grains of time,
tumble rootless into my mind,
imbedding themselves
in each drop of sweat.
Dizzily I grapple back up,
the whiskers of my beard
stretching toward a pebble
that was not yet tumbling
into a directionless creation,
or a momentary extinction.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Note:
A 'Tarn' is a mere (lake), atop a high mountain. It seemingly has no inlet or outlet. "Sree' is an unstable shale that tends to slip under foot.
Rain filled clouds are what follow me now ,
No sunshine for me these days and smiles are not aloud.
My sight is blurry now and can't listen to what you say,
It was you who has caused this and why I am feeling this way.
Hold on tightly now It has been the ride of my life ,
But somehow it slipped away like a thief in the night .
How did I not see it so plainly writen on the wall,
Never in a million years did I expect to lose it all.
But here I am standing with my back turned away,
For I can not face the sadness you brought me this day.
Why has this happened to me and just what will I do,
Shell of a man in a life that was suppose to be spent with you.
It's over now and it's all becuase of you
I just cant see theres anything you can do .
Blinded by the love for you never a reason to doubt,
So quickly I learned howI will be going without.
The warmth of a love you brought to me ,
Now I will live without what was meant to be .
You were always a a part of the world I've grown to know,
Now that your gone the sadnees in my face will forever show.
These cloudy days bring me nothing but pain,
My life forever will be only me standing in the rain.
TAC
If Darwinian evolution is correct,
then there should exist a continuum of forms,
but what we see with a closer inspect:
that taxa-defining features are norm.
We see hair in mammals, and feathers in birds,
But of ancestral stepping stones, nary a word.
You would expect intermediate fossils,
But this doesn’t bother old Darwin’s apostles.
You see, Darwin posited random mutations;
This is well known, and without refutation.
Of course, he knew nothing about DNA,
But somehow his theory survives to this day.
He studied finches, examined their beaks,
Noticed some changes and took some great leaps.
From observations of the beaks of some birds,
He extrapolated far past the absurd.
None will deny populations adapt,
But he jumped to origins, and folks were enrapt.
The logic employed was exceedingly odd,
But it marketed well, for it rejected God.
See, Darwin knew nothing of what’s in a cell;
Today such a theory would be a hard sell.
But “settled science” has old origins too,
And as we all know, settled’s not always true.
What’s true in the large sometimes fails in the small,
And that is close to the root of it all.
But the ultimate stab in the heart with a knife:
There’s no explanation for the origin of life.
——————
I hope this is the first of a series of these…
The charnel houses roar like famished beasts,
And I walk among their desecrated cemeteries.
The scent of ruin clings to my charred lungs,
My journey in this dimension is sold at the price of blood and iron.
My tainted hands tremble as I explore the memory of my ancestors' scars,
Their hatred of those *****-phobes shaped me.
I chase vertigoes of independence that other Blacks flee,
Pleasures that burn hotter than fear.
I know the value of gold, of pain,
I measure injustice through the hypocrisy of their human rights.
Survival is learned in grime and fire,
And forgiveness has never found a place in my grief-pierced heart.
I swallowed stars of my destiny,
I plunged into the trash heaps of human history,
To tear out fragments of fury,
To offer them to my oppressors like bolts of truth.
The sirens of negrophobia flail when I smile,
Impervious to the morals of these heirs of slavery,
My choices, an explosion of freedom in the silence of supremacist racists,
My victories, scars I wear with pride.
My ancestors weep through my dilated veins,
Their predatory chains are mine, yet I dance over the cruelty of these Christian slavers, without forgetting all those Arab-Muslim traffickers under a false pedophile prophet.
I expect nothing, regret nothing,
And in this chaos, I invented my own light from the darkness of these racialists’ alienation.
You do not value me around, you’re alone
For all your life, alone-in-company
You call it family, but you are on your own
Love is a game you sometimes play, or played for me
Why did you choose me a few years ago?
If you can’t keep a word you voluntary give
No good deed goes unpunished kind of show
I get, cause all my love you can’t forgive
You’d be offended at my place, I’m sure
You wouldn’t expect from me what you can do
So your experience to bring pain looks poor
It is one-sided, and I bet you know its true
Return to me! I know you never meant
To lose me, like an earring that fell
Into the slot of time you never spent
But when you find it, nothing it can tell.
LIKE A SEED
Take a seed
Plant it into the ground
And Let it be!
There is no need
For you and me the seed
Something to Teach
For
It knows how:
Roots to grow,
A trunk to develop
Branches to extend
Flowers to bloom
Fruits to bring forth
And new seeds to
Make
You and I, my friend,
Like seeds of Nature
Are
Special seeds endowed
With soul
All wisdom inside us is,
Enclosed by nature
Waiting to be found
By thought
Thus
Outside us we shouldn’t expect
Many answers to find
For
The answers, we are looking for,
Buried are deep down in our
Slumbering minds,
Each of them waiting,
By us
To be discovered!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
04 February 2013
It might be quite neat to have a juggler,
Run for President or Prime Minister,
We have tried most other Professions,
With mixed success.
A juggler might have better understanding of the role,
And has the advantage of knowing the importance of,
Keeping one's eye on the ball,
With personal experience of what happens when you don't.
The best jugglers also know how to operate under stress,
And understand that there is a point where an extra ball or plate,
To juggle will be beyond the ability of most to handle,
By themself.
Other things in a juggler's favour is that they mainly,
Keep their eyes on what is going on around them in the real world,
And are not easily distracted.
Juggler also understands what goes up must come down,
In practice, not just in theory,
And I would expect that anybody given a position of authority,
By a juggler would be expected to know the fundamentals,
Of what makes good juggler,
I also would like to believe that as most jugglers do not judge a ball,
Or plate by its colour,
There is a good chance he or she would act the same way with people.
I also suspect that a juggler might know when to call it quits,
As, once a ball is dropped a couple of times and the applause stops,
They tend to move off stage,
And give those whom, they may have mentored, their turn.
What have we got to lose??