Long Fate Poems
Long Fate Poems. Below are the most popular long Fate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fate poems by poem length and keyword.
Title:
The Concubine
(A lone voice whispers)
Sometimes
I stand silent and still
Just
Staring up at the blazing hot sun
Is there nowhere left
For me
To now quickly run
No retreat or temple of
Salvation
After all is
Said and done
No matter how you preach
Or shout
For I've done all of this
For you
Lived this old life
Swam the many emotional oceans
Walked the dark lonely wastelands
As the passing grey clouds
Turned blue
But
When I stand silently still
Under the blazing sun
And close
My deep green eyes
Even though inside
I see the shining beacon
An innovative revelation
Of a deep inner truth
Even though
The emotional
Undulating oceans
Still whisper your
Still treasured name
This fate I've chosen
To be your concubine
Numbs the fire and heat
And keeps me eternally
Frozen
My time may be near for
The grey mists are parting
And it's all becoming rather clear
I need to leave to start living and to
Really breathe
But I can still feel
You
Just running
Through all of my pulsating veins
And
Those old ways
Still haunt me
Still
Visiting in the quiet darkness
At three
They always remain
But when
The early morning sun rises
And I open my eyes
It burns them into tiny grey embers
Sending them up high
Into the blazing hot sun
As I pause and bathe in its undertow
As I watch the Autumn
Golden leaves fall
And hope break through
All my
Inner carefully
Compartmentalized walls
No matter where this life
Goes
I really know
I'll just be ok
Because I now know
I'll rise
And no longer fall
When those familiar
Memories
Call
Copyright John Duffy
Where is a heart?
Where is a heart? Someone lost a life. His life, the hope of a new life
From somebody, she lost herself, she hated a man, a love of her light
Loved a lady, a cruel, a man mind is this lady, but needed lives, pure's
Kinds of mine, just open the heart, a great of the new world, takes life
Heart in the land, far, somewhere else in the past life’s desires’s life’s to
To a living memory, a lived unspent life, yes, it’s still alive in a soul's heart
There was a love, here lived a love, there lived a love, and here has a love
There will be love, there should be love, and here is missed love. Life’s cold
Frozen memories live in my mind, a thawed ice world, the lives of love in the past
Death in my life is living, no way more, time stopped in my life; future heart goodbye
Heart
Love
Non
Yes
Past
In
Bye
Hearts
‘Good,
Next world
Comes,
Better
Lives
and
Hearts’
– Said Satan.
‘Thank you
for saving
my life.’
‘You are welcome.’
– Said Satan.
“I have journeyed within myself,
Scanned rumblings of the inner self
Lent my ears to the inner chime
Within grasp of the sands of time.” By author.
**************************************************************
The Journey Within
The journey within, for diverse souls,
Begins at diverse stages of life,
For some since early days of childhood,
Goaded by parental mentoring,
For others during the course of life
Driven by coincidence or a quirk of fate.
For some it`s an insightful journey
Shining with light of enlightenment,
A straight-line excursion to top of a mount,
For others a nebulous trip shrouded with haze,
Veiled with dark doubt and deadly dread,
A sporadic trek ceasing at foot of a hill.
My journey within glowing since days of youth,
Sparkling through exposure and learning,
Has been deeply anchored with quest to know myself,
To find who I am and my goals in life.
Storms of life sustained from fate and men
Have propelled me to scan deeper within myself,
To treasure peace and bliss in solitude
At the shining lake of my inner self.
No doubt you've heard of fire-breathing dragons,
and their obsession with hoarding treasure.
But have you ever heard of Huffle-Winks,
magical creatures that promote pleasure?
Invisible, atop their dragonflies,
they ride the winds of fate, mile after mile.
And wherever they encounter a frown,
they attempt to flip it into a smile.
They summon dragonflies to get around,
for unlike dragons, they haven't learned to fly.
Yet, if you suddenly feel like laughing,
it's a safe bet; a Huffle-Wink's nearby.
In winter, when dragonflies disappear:
Huffle-Wink's ride upon tumbling snowflakes.
And if you're lucky enough to lure one,
it's like winning the lottery sweepstakes.
I've never seen one, except in my dreams:
deep in my heart, I know that they're real.
And what makes me so sure that they exist
is the joyful way that they make me feel?
When you're feeling particularly blue,
remember, Huffle-Winks are all around.
And as spirits of jocularity,
they ensure that smiles and laughter abound.
Am I to live as an envious one
Am I to yearn for my peers' possessions
When life is itself, made of diversity
When we have been set to be varied
Yes, each one of us has been assigned his lot
More, each one of us is to appreciate others
Yes, only by doing thus, shall we liberate
The angel sleeping in us, the pacifier
Why, I desire not anyone's wealth
I desire only more poetic breath
I desire only more magic, at the tips of my fingers
So that I may please the world from its many hangovers
Pray, it is best to open up and tolerate
To accept and to appreciate each other's fate!
19 November 2016
When Mother Mary and St. Joseph brought baby Jesus to the temple for His presentation and consecration
A devout man named Simeon proclaimed big things about the life of their Son
An Ominous aside
He told Mother Mary that she would be pierced with a sword
That isn’t quite the fortune a sweet mother wants to hear
Yet Mother Mary accepted her fate
Just as gracefully as she did
When she learned she was pregnant
Her acceptance reminds us that love is an honor and a privilege
When we love deeply, we make ourselves vulnerable to deep pain
This is the finest pain of all
Sacrifice of the highest order
Eternal God will equip as to love like this
Eternal God will comfort us when it hurts
What is good, what is bad?
“This is a good question.” Noted, Master Satan.
Yes, dear Master. But what makes good good?
“Good for good? And what about the bad things?
Tell me, please. I want to listen to your opinion.”
Look. I think good is eternal, and not from people
“Yes. But people can do good things. Charity?”
Yes. Giving. But it comes from God. From heart
“From the heart? What heart? Tell me, please.”
Okay. I understand you, Master. There are two.
There are two hearts. One from God. And man.
“And what about my heart? I am Satan. I have.
I have a heart. Bigger than the Earth. Answer?”
Okay. I am sorry. I am your witness. A saved life.
“I help people. Nations. Secret power. Save lives.
Make peace. Change worldviews. Keep old laws.”
Keep old laws? “Yes. That is the base.” Of our lives
So. So, the liberalism against the created creation
“No. You mean the liberalism for development. Yes.”
Master, development can be destruction later. Yes.
Yes. Liberalism. “No. The psychological. You said.”
Psychology. Destruction. “Yes”, said Satan. Hmm.
Psychology is a private business. “Nazi.” Real killers
“Maybe English?” Hmm. I understand you, Master.
Yes. Psychology is a hidden nationalism? Hmm. Yes.
Psychology is not socialism, not communism,
not imperialism, but a new capitalism. Psychology
An extreme society. Nazi. Racist. Hidden will
Psychology wants to overwrite socialism, everything
Humanism, all the religions, love, and God. Faith
Psychology is the new socialism. But dead.
I hate this psychology. Nazi and human trafficking
Getting rich from the suffering souls. Parasits.
This psychology wants to overwrite
The world
And all the social systems, and political
This psychology is
Top crime
I'm searching for a poetry that’s a hotbed of immense danger,
A spell that unleashes deep fear into every soul.
I want poetry that shakes the universe of old ideas,
Banned in bookstores, sites, and antique shops.
My poetry should be palpable, like a Glock in the dead of night,
Like a gleaming blade in the darkness, a bat striking mercilessly.
I want verses that don’t just heal but hurt profoundly,
Opening wounds that no one has ever felt before.
In my words will vibrate unseen terror,
Like a storm of arrows piercing the veil of reality.
Each stanza will be a thunderclap in the quiet of noon,
And each rhyme, a lightning bolt burning in deeply buried minds.
My verses will be like an ancient wizard's potion,
Mixing the essences of dreams and nightmares, of hopes and despair.
The reader's soul will shudder at their touch,
And with each line, feel bound to an invisible fate.
I'm looking for poetry that purifies through fire and pain,
That awakens everything buried and forgotten.
It will be a cry in the night, a swan song,
An echo that resounds eternally, endless and frightening.
The blades of my words will cut through the fabric of time,
Like a soul surgeon, revealing unknown wounds.
In a mad waltz, fear will fuse with ecstasy,
And in that experience, the reader will be reborn, frightened and liberated.
Each syllable will be a silver bullet, coming to cleave the darkness,
And each metaphor, a pantomime lock that reveals the truth.
The poet will be the wizard of shadows, invoking hidden forces,
And in those dangerous verses, true magic will be born.
Thus, I want poetry that elevates and topples equally,
That shatters conventions and feeds unrestrained flames.
To be both balm and poison, to be sacred and cursed,
To be poetry that shakes worlds, leaving only the ashes of dreams.
And so, in the dead of night, at the edge of reality,
My poem will take form, a creature of darkness and light.
A call to the souls who dare to feel everything,
In a world where magic and melancholy intertwine eternally.
Speak not to me of Edelweiss,
Come share this scene;
Cast jealous eyes towards Lucerne;
For by it’s banks, in verdant calm;
There reigns the White Angel supreme.
Mis-stepping tourists, hounds unleashed,
The rudest climes;
She only bends towards the east;
And when she’s plucked, unreadily;
Soon, phoenix-like anew she shines.
For those who pass but see her still,
Do ken her worth;
Unchallenged purity pervades;
For as she sleeps through daylight hours;
Displays her brilliance on earth.
As Night descends the Angel wakes,
Now magic shows!
Her dark interior unfolds;
She fades into Night’s majesty;
Swayed only by his rhythmic prose.
One whispers of her origins -
A gypsy's fate.
I only know that since I glanced;
Medusa bound, my lifetime’s spent;
Fixated in her mystic wake.
If I were to tell you its name
then it would and will exist.
You might think only in your mind,
but no
if two minds see it then it will appear
In the small print of creation.
Here is a simile or a metaphor, probably both:
if a crow comes to settle on your roof
then a goat will eat up your garden,
not now maybe, maybe never,
but the fear of it
will keep manifesting in small ways
until random goat piss patches
will ruin your lawn.
When I informed him of this notion of mine
his hat (a trilby),
began to quake upon his head,
he spluttered in disbelief
but I could already discern that soon
his hat would catch fire
under the blows of destinies
jocular lightning bolts.