Long Fend off Poems
Long Fend off Poems. Below are the most popular long Fend off by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fend off poems by poem length and keyword.
Many lives have been ruined
for the maddest race known to us:
does money define success or happiness?
Why has greed motivated and fooled
the smartest people around?
Luxury comes from wealth, not sacrifice;
keeping it up is a must and should one lose
the privilege to look good and be admired will raise
brows and open the eyes to unexpected demise,
being deprived of comfortable things is obstruse!
Mark belonged to a corporate group that
generated billions selling stocks and bitcoins.
then came the pandemic and broke it apart;
he cried a lot and decided to slash his veins:
it cost his life, he chose darkness over light!
Everybody has gone their way,
they have trashed his memory;
his granite grave has no candles, no flowers:
revenge was done to bring justice to buyers
who trusted someone who handled shady deals!
Does money define success or happiness?
Can one get both by practicing deceit and be called elite?
None of these I have found yet, only stones that impede
glamour to enter the delusional senses:
am I brave enough to fend off tears?
It would be fifteen rounds against the longtime champ,
But I was an upcomer, ready to make my stamp.
With an undefeated record, he was well renowned.
I was in good shape, with low weight, hoping to be crowned.
In the first round, I came out fast, full of fire and fury.
Throwing lefts and rights, my opponent I would bury.
He didn’t seem so great, not much of a force at all,
Yet, as hard I hit that guy, I could not make him fall.
In round 3, he landed an upper cut to my gut.
I was badly reeling, while he still remained uncut.
In round 4, he hammered me with a hook to the head.
Some reporters in the stands wondered if I was dead.
It looked like it was over, after he knocked me flat.
Just before the bell rang, I staggered up off the mat.
Dazed and confused, I continued to attempt my best.
This guy was relentless, as he put me to the test.
I was getting tired and decided to fight him smart.
I chose my punches more carefully than at the start.
At the end of the fourteenth round, I was still standing,
But I was a mess, from the beating he was handing.
Next round, I asked, nearly falling, without being hit,
Could I fend off blows, win points, would the judges permit?
No sir, I was knocked out cold, couldn’t be reheated,
And once again, Father Time remained undefeated.
Nor do I feel free
akin to noble savage
(gratis to Jean Jacques Rousseau)
completely unfettered, and able lee
to fend off unseen banshee,
comically swatting for all to see,
though today February Eighth,
2019 quite similar (i.e. dime
a dozen) to many previous twenty
four hour blocks of time,
herewith metering poetic testimony
hashing out another rhyme,
I feel considerably less mindful,
as if complicit in a major crime,
(yes absolutely more remorseful
regarding entire lifetime
of indifference) prime
err rilly linkedin into call lapsed
shoulder shrug, shrink into self, or
other convenient pantomime
schizoid personality disorder diagnosis,
asper this pronounced emotional detachment
more painfully clear climb
ming pyramid of self actualization -
engendered through longtime
therapy in tandem with
half dozen prescription medications
and cathartic, holistic, therapeutic...pastime
writing poems delving into scarred psyche
aftermath years burned by quicklime
writhing, when aware impacted me now
evincing unrepentant blank affect
behavior couched, established, fostered
during in utero stage, characteristics
manifested by full termtime
tidbits shared by parents chime
how my body tensed
like tightly wound coil before schooltime
reinforced destructive coping skills
resident in this older chap
aroused during bedtime
poking, seeping, violating...dreamtime.
When she stepped into the traffic
did she see the oncoming,
judge the distance;
the fleet footedness
of her thoughts calculating
the crossing,
or did she read the red end of her life
the way a deer might
caught in a blind light,
paralyzed by decisions?
I watched,
perhaps other eyes were on her
too far away from the moment
to save or rescue her time.
When planes break apart
the passengers fall out of it
thinking, calculating,
& dying before the end.
Possums lay in the road
gambling on deadness
to fend off an 18 wheelers.
Did a ghost of a thought
push her back,
keep her swaying
like a cartoon road-runner
on the curb edge,
or did she plunge into the truck
gambling that she would
always be
a moment away?
Was she already lost
as she unraveled a tangle
at the other side of town.
This we cannot say,
for most of us reflexively
looked away.
Some folks just struggle in vain,
stress their nerve and wrack their brains,
wonder if we’re all insane,
when they see us create again.
They ask of visions deep inside,
a hidden genius in our mind,
what inspiration they can find,
and we just look at them and lie…
Because we do it for the money…
lots and lots of money….
yes all of us must work for money…
It helps to fend off the pain,
we’re all playing the same game.
We don’t speak for generations,
money is motivation,
like you we hate starvation,
needing cash spurs creation.
I’ve run into artist types,
most of the could use a bite,
high ideals won’t pay for lights…
or fancy mansions, big and bright.
Oh yes, we do it for the money…
lots and lots of money….
sometimes my song bring in the money…
only card I have to play,
so I guess I’ll make it pay..
I’ve got bills and kids to feed,
wife and family with real needs,
and I ask you honestly
what options are left for me?
No doctor, can’t engineer,
most folks think me weird,
social games just bring me fear,
that’s why I ‘sell out’ every year.
You see we do it for the money…
lots and lots of money…
they say it’s not ‘art’ if there’s money…
I hear that nonsense every day,
it’s such a stupid thing to say.
Simply dispel the assumed notion of friendship and trust,
be stirred by this truth summoning a heavy morality cost;
in adolescence we bursted in laughter and gave spontaneous embraces,
it's very different now, distance has withered the smiles of tenderness.
Friends forget the ones that life forsakes, alone to confront their demise;
are we the ones who watch them struggle by hiding behind a thick wall...
instead of lending a hand and offer comfort when tragedy and illness strike?
And to prove our true friendship, we must stand by them whenever they fall!
I feel sorry for that one fighting fate without wearing a protective shield,
that indispensable armor to fend off adversities and win his many battles...
when nobody stands by him, and I rectify this injustice by defying his foes:
by coming forward, fighting side by side with him and be his defensive friend.
Friends forget the ones that life forsakes, the ones that shared all;
won't greed and idiocy show on their looks of pretentious pride?
Won't shame be smeared on their restless conscience as they appall
at their ingratitude by admitting the massive harm done inside?
'
where, in the shadow of a winter moon
beyond eternal skylines collecting stars,
does affection unfold in the sheets
of a nighttime whispering on the breeze
desperate wishes cast as stones on a pond,
smooth surfaces now laced with ripples,
spherical patterns meandering towards
a slumbering shoreline, drifting inward
a silhouette of love, an angelic form peers,
soft mahogany eyes reflecting yesterdays worries,
offering visions of a tomorrow woven between
today's dreams and desires, waits silently
thoughts echo through the dense forest,
evergreens listen as footsteps forage for a path,
a lone figure in the dark, beneath a braided canopy,
a mosaic of memories luring instincts and needs
winding a way through bramble and thistle,
scars fend off thorns, flesh withers in fear lost
within the mist of past encounters, pained
reminders though welcomed just the same
when in a clearing he pauses amidst swaying reeds,
perusing a distant horizon, witnessing the final ripple
slowly making it's way to the place she stood, now
vacant as a faint sliver of morning appears
falling to his knees
he pleads for the return of the winter moon,
the return of its shadow,
the return of...
With tears streaming down her face
A mother sits staring at a framed picture
Of a young man who answered the call
Wondering… Why my son? ...Why my son?
A young boy wearing a U.S. Army cap
Valiantly tries to fend off a storm of emotion.
Overtaken by grief he succumbs to the pain.
A down pour of tears flood his once innocent face
As he wrestles with the heart wrenching reality
Of his mom never returning home.
A tiny little girl pulls on the dress
Of a trembling teary eyed lady dressed in black
Standing next to a flag draped coffin
Asking… Where’s daddy mommy? …Where’s daddy?
A proud Vietnam War veteran
With tears steadily filling his eyes
And a crippling wound to his heart
Shakily stands up on one prosthetic limb
To offer one final salute to his fallen son
With a hand above his brow he utters the words:
A price to high Semper Fi.
When the present is a hollow shadow of the future past
And the wild reaper casts his spell on stagnant aspirations
The harvest flooded in crushing tears at midwinter pain
He decides to live the courageous fantasy of ancient moons
Dries off a skin full of resentment from stunted propagation
Slices vividly through anger hurt and fear with lunar sickles
Rises above beholding constellations of apprehending dread
Living the dream and loving the seasons is full of danger
As uncertain promises loom and the eclipse seems eternal
He lights a blazing fire to fend off subconscious hesitation
And remembers that he’s been there before so many times
When mourning falls again and hopeful rays lighten the sky
Hopeful desire tentatively touches an unextinguished longing
For the gift of presence peace and kindness onto his burning mind
His soulmate bandages his wounded soul and kisses him gently
Massages sores and abrasive thoughts until they walk the path
Out into what lies ahead when sun and clouds merge into one
22nd October 2019
4/21/18
We both know the journey never ends
We spend most of our life trying to fend off
What we feel is pretend
You have paved your way, my good friend
You were always in it until the end
Lord, I pray it's never goodbye
As our friendship always soars on high
You put your boots into the wind
I hope your life away starts as free as it began
Since you no longer have to sit and spin
I wish you well my kind friend
I'm glad nothing about you was pretend
Though your journey may take you away
I will pray for God to help you find your way
So our friendship will always be in play
Let's never bend or try to mend
What made us such good friends
A new chapter in our life is about to begin
We both come out of it with a big win
Just makes you want to grin
As we sit back and take it all in
I tend to believe we will both be seeing each other
On the other side of what you're about to discover
I hope you recover all the love you left behind
I will remember your kind soul and how we use to roll
We both know this is a sign
So I respect how you want to walk this line
I know I will catch up with you just around the bend
My good friend until the end
May God go with you into the wind
And keep your life free of sin
My dear sweet friend until the end