Long Fear Poems
Long Fear Poems. Below are the most popular long Fear by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fear poems by poem length and keyword.
You left me in the deep end,
Where shadows dance and waters
Bend.
Alone, I linger on the brink,
A hesitant heart, a silent ink.
I can't swim that well, not yet,
With each rising wave, I feel the
Threat.
Afraid I might drawn in the vast
Unknown,
In this ocean of dark, I'm all alone.
Will you come to save me,
Or am I lost in this reverie?
Answer my call, don't let me fade,
For life is a gift too precious
To trade.
I'm young, with dreams that
Span the years,
Yet this abyss has tangled my
Fears,
My father gift me life enbrace,
A beacon of hope in this turbulant
Space.
Let's praise my father, for
His love unwavering,
His spirit in me, eternally
Savoring.
As the sun dips low, the horizon
Bleeds,
Who will hear my hearts pleas?
The night is heavy, darkness
Unfurls,
Yet I must muster my strength
Swirls.
I'll swim to the shore, through
The tide is fierce,
I seek the warmth of home's
Gentle light,
It's getting late, the hour
Draws near,
But with hope as my compass, I'II
Chart what I FEAR
The word bipolar can put fear in your heart
Because you’ll never know when it will start.
Also known as manic depression and it can become
A lifelong obsession.
Wondering when the next bout of fear will enter you
And if you know just what to do.
It is like the devil trying to take your soul
And it becomes a battle of control.
Most times in order for you to live
You must take the meds that they give.
If your child is bipolar or autistic, will you love them any less?
I don’t think so is my guess!
The LORD puts a child where he / she belongs
With a person he knows is strong.
The strength of the parents helps them to cope
With the problems old and new, and that is
Something that they do.
Let us be a little realistic, not many crimes
Are committed by bipolar or autistic
So how can they use words like crazy, retarted or handicapped
When against us the cards are stacked,
When this becomes a challenge close to home
Remember that you’re not alone.
When we're under duress, sick with
worry and fear about the unknown
or about situations beyond our control
it's easy to lose all sense of perspective.
But one thing we can control is our breath.
It's indeed true, we're currently living
in a scary world that seems like it's all
coming apart at the seams...
but's important not to panic
We must cling to hope and optimism.
We must all stay calm and have faith
for God will get us through these trying days
We must remember to breathe, because all
will be right in the world again, eventually.
Continue with life with an abundance of caution!
Never hold your breath! Let it all out. Woosah!....
Date written: 03/21/2020
Some days I wake up smiling
Today's sure not one of those days
Caught some kind of a flu bug
Wanna sleep the whole day away
Feel like a ruddy zombie
Got no drive, no get up and go
No longer a reason for living
I've come to the end of the show
Hide the pills and the liquor
Get rid of the knives and weapons
Feel like harming little animals
Looking for bugs to step on
Normally charming and lovable
But when bugs invade my body
Don't handle the invasion very well
This nasty man gets really snotty
Eventually I'll get back to normal
To my sweet and lovable self
Until then, please bear with me
Don't feel like a big happy elf!
© Jack Ellison 2012
Have no fear... wrote this a while ago.
Today I'm fit as a fiddle and feeling fine!
Violet FATHER God is
color His grace His love 7 times greater than me
minimum next to an infinity
great and greater numerous and blessed
7 times multiplied completeness
we are blessed love efficient
7 times as great as many
~
Father wisdom understanding council
fortitude knowledge p i e t y fear of the Lord
gratitude complete me Father
for your purpose your sons your daughters
~
Father Son Jesus
so has forgiven us
once over and over grace covers Us
and bless it 7 times
I need you Father
I need you beyond 7 x 70 times
beyond kind He's love love so as unconditionally
seven times as greater many
while at Father God is beyond plenty
2/13/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023
Twas no use…neither to love, nor care,
She wept, as briskly out the door, he went.
That thunderous night, crashing bolts of lightning
from God’s tent were with His love sent
But she heard Him naught, just in rhe flashes
of electrical blue light, wept and stared!
Like other women, she thought love lasted and
men were faithful for all time.
You will read many a write like that here.
Crying women, so afraid, that without
that “one” man, they have life to fear.
It is but a hapless case of a lying cuss.
Who lied, so stop the tears, life’s sun is out!
1/29/202
I sing the God Almighty’s Creation
Whereof were firstly born Adam and Eve
former seed of any human Nation
at the time they could only conceive
the joyfulness with no desperation
In the Eden still so far to receive
The challenge of that infernal snake
Who wanted to be a godlike fake!
I also sing about the brave men strays,
Straight descendents from that chosen race,
who such in boldly and daring ways
Isr’eli people to holy surface
They led of Palestine. Hates, loves betray’ls
I don't omit, on fortune and disgrace:
those between God and men, tribes and kingdoms;
and I sing laws, exiles and wars into my songs.
Arduous so much however it ‘s my part,
long and full of traps my composition,
That plenty of fear I feel into my heart,
if only I dare to think myself on action,
and tremble with my hand before I start
The Old and the New Holy Narration!
My Fairy God, You Firmament’s Creator
Allow me to become a keen narrator!
From Genesis’ to Apocalypse’s book
please drive my hand between rhymes and accents
to enable jointly with my mind, to hook
the most significant, deep, true sentiments
in order they can take a fairly look
of those seventy three, pious components!
If someone goes to Source for sweeter tasting
all my efforts for sure I won’t be wasting!
The frost is on the fodder now, a killing blight of cold.
We have crossed the river—gray, wide—
to reach the place where stories are retold
leaving the iron winter at the door.
Here the bin is full, the fire bright
we shut the night out with a single latch.
Praise the humble things that make a feast
the paper-skinned onion dissolved and gone
the invisible labor—the greatest and the least
the butter loosening into liquid sun.
We praise the sweetness pulled from stubborn ground
the heavy pumpkin, copper-fleshed, profound.
For the world begins and ends upon this wood
this scarred old table where the ghosts draw near.
My grandmother's hands, translucent in the steam
pass the bowl of something not quite here.
We carve the bird, dry, sacrificial meat
and blend our strange new spices with the sweet.
Bless the throat that swallows, the lung's slow tide
the cedar shingles holding back the rain
the kneading hands gone numb with repetition
those small liturgies we gather against the pain.
For even in the shadows or the fear
we set a place for everyone not here.
The Pilgrims crouched beside their starving fires
while Haudenosaunee blessed the Three Sisters' yield
their hungers haunt this feast like iron in the water
undrinkable, essential, in the field.
The mist has lifted. The honest work is done.
We taste the generations in gingered slice.
So praise for what breaks open and stays broken
for sight, for blindness, for the space between
for this abrading, necessary evening
for everyone we've harmed and cannot heal.
The world forgets itself here, then remembers
autumn spills its copper into winter's palms.
We will not wait for loss to teach us dying.
The harvest of the heart, the gathered store
we pay the simple, heavy human price
of loving what we have and asking nothing more.
Not grateful for our goodness, but for breaking
together in this blood-warm, breathing place.
We are the fruit returning earth, becoming sun.
Written: October 19, 2023, For Tania Kitchen Spooky Halloween Contest
___________________________________
Hope is buried, gulping Satan of the Night.
Its odd, dreadful beats drove in schizo sight.
Sweet dread awaits the fair-headed, awful stride.
As fear drew closer, it heard the sad words abide.
They were expressionless, their bodies obeying.
Love, it's ignored—bleeding hearts break, swaying.
They recall dread and can tell a horrific story well.
A red-hot sword could lure Satan from his shell.
Haunting, poltergeists, and zombies are the core
At Halloween, they shine as murderers may abhor.
Undermining existence in horror's catacombs
Blood and mayhem are the spooky twin gnomes.
Become a demon, and I'll stay at Dracula castle.
Awaken afraid from a lucid state, scared of hassle.
Amidst a Halloween party, I was stuck in despair.
Fear remains upon me after a spooky nightmare.
A WASTED LIFE
Does man, fear the pain
From all the scars of war
Feel as better, or as gain
From knowing the score
Was it all worth it, dying
All this blooded rank soil
In the distance as crying
Wasted effort, man's toil
All sacrificed for demons
Who thrill upon your die
Without want, or reason
Humours your death cry
Have we learnt anything
Or; as justify the means
Wrong ideology teaching
As truth remains unseen
You are taking up space
You are costing to much
There is no saving grace
To those who lose touch
No one heeds the lesson
Why now we have to die
As blinded by false hope
When in prayers you cry
We are now the sacrifice
Before the greater world
We are no longer suffice
As to God's ear, unheard
Indiana Shaw . . . : /