Long Frightened Poems
Long Frightened Poems. Below are the most popular long Frightened by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Frightened poems by poem length and keyword.
refuge
I spot two ducks
and using my fancy
I picture them in nesting mode
more ducks
meadow
mankind’s playground
humans on a picnic
strangely frightened, left in a rush.
litter
mid-stream
kids formed a dam
in the years past and gone
a safe place for spawning catfish
shelter
forest
tall evergreens,
fragrant pine-needle floor
has become wild creatures’ heartland
haven
white clouds
no sign of rain
people no longer come
what may be hiding in the woods?
wonder
refuge
mankind’s playground
in the years past and gone
has become wild creatures’ heartland
wonder
April 6, 2023
Sponsor Constance La France
Contest Name Writing Challenge - 'R' Words
this is a garland cinquain
Our traces are an open book.
The digital world cuts into
pieces the starry,innovative
thinking.
The digital world is the secrecy
of a frightened,tormented soul.
The freedom of dying freedom
will be inevitable.
The personal life is continuously
ruing,nothing but,only a visual
reality will prevails to dominate
our every day life.
The unavoidable death of death
will be definite.
"thoughtless thoughts" will blossom
,flourish.
Profound thoughts,thoughtful
consideration and a state of thoughtfulness
will be destroyed and die
The lifeless death of death
is the main goal of the visual
digital world.
The whole world will be an
enormous cell,where,ideas
ideals and thoughts
will be suffocated.
.
You placed yourself in harm’s way.
I hated that you would join the fray.
Now you bravely faced and fought
the devil I had stupidly bought.
It was unwise, absurd from the start,
Foolish and silly to be in my heart.
You said, “No. Let’s not do this.”
I said, “Yes.” and gave you a kiss.
You staunchly stood in front of the crowd
Leaving me behind, frightened and cowed.
The melee began and I was gobstruck.
How could I have bought such bad luck?
You moved with dexterity but in the end
You were injured but thankfully, left to mend.
A black and blue eye and raging road rash,
I regretted my call to be bold and brash.
I realized how immature I had been.
I should have listened to you my friend.
You took the beating rather than flee.
Courageously defended my right to be me.
In times to come, heavy as steel that freezes stories yet untold,
The sky wraps itself in ash of thoughts yearning to be confined.
Silent streets converge towards a doubtful, mechanical horizon,
Where the sobriety of hope seems so chillingly sheer.
Man – a fiber vibrating between his hot, obsessive technology,
Seeks through the digital shadow, a sign, like the leaf searching for the sun.
A lost voice seems to slide between our relentless keystrokes,
Voice of a writer, a poet, burning brightly as a flame in the night.
Times will come when we'll yearn to understand,
The moment when eco-souls traversed by stars glimpse into being.
To see, through the storm frightened by our society, other paths,
And from the labyrinth of technology, to rise with wings versed in free dawns.
Poets will be asked to remember freedom,
Wordsmiths rowing against the current, redeeming the moment from fear.
Realities broader than these dark corners of precipitous walls,
Painting on the vault of the world landscapes of thought that might bring us a drop of hope.
Like the memory of water in a thirsty desert,
The poet, a sum of words, opens his soul at the gate of dawn.
Imagining worlds where freedom is not just a word, but breath and pulse,
Where the future is not darkness, but the sunny glade growing at the root of stars.
Oh, may those craftsmen of words come, filigreeing on paper uncut essences,
To write that better reality, with their memory unfettered,
Cherubim of imagination flying over unknown horizons,
To remind us, when darkness descends, that every star has a path, and every dream the right to have wings.
Let them come, to quench our thirst with oases of boundless stories,
In a future as bold as the uncharted seas,
Where the human ship navigates with the oar of poetry toward saved worlds,
To give us trust, to remind us that we can live, in liberty.
Womb Tomb
The baby loved the heart music of her mother to be!
She heard the water running
all over Mommy’s body and
breast,
As she listened so ever so intently!
“One day I will see Mother’s lovely, happy face.
It is getting way too small in
here!”
She heard the sound of soft,
rhythmic purrs.
In her tiny dreams,she wished
those sounds might one day
would be hers!
Baby Migdalia, just dreamt
thoughts of hope and joy.
A Daddy near of only such
dreams, she knew of no such
things as murder or fear.
Then, Mommy and Daddy,
In voices got very angy!
Daddy shouted at Mommy
“We have no money to raise
a child!
Woman have you gone mad?”
I became frightened and so utterly sad!
Can any of you, anyone, help me?
Have the courage to please
Tell them, to let me be born?
I am God’s present to them.
Not a beast of burden.
But myself and others, we need all of you to speak for us.
We are the future.
We are your sons and lovely
daughters.
Twenty-three thousand of us a day, in the USA meet this fate.
Lives ended and sent back to God’sHoly Gate.
Help us, please?
Baby Migdalia and all the unborn!
As the battalion races into battle
You can hear a Saber rattle
But as we charge with guns a blazing loud
He can be seen, leading the crowd
A Ghost on horseback brilliant white
In his suit of armor a scary sight
No one can believe their eyes it seems
He should only be seen in blood curdling dreams
But to us he is as real, as we are
Like us has traveled very far
Not in miles, but in time
Like a hero in a nursery rhyme
As we charge on and vanquish our foe
A thousand soldiers all in a row
He leads by example from the front
The cannon fire, he bears the brunt
Can the enemy see him we all think?
Or is it only us, and a curse of the drink
Imaginary or real boldly we wonder
We frightened soldiers in a politicians blunder
As the battle rages, he disappears as quickly as he came
And none of us even knew his name
I pound the pillow, curse the clock and mock injunctions to rest.
The sun finally rises and its rays slantwise fall through the curtains as I dry my hair.
A meal, like a forced dose, we soak ourselves in wasted, nervous time.
Finally! We arrive at the competition...
Tension is here and tireless pressure.
The players waiting stiff as straw, tongues playing over dry lips.
Teachers and coaches unapologetic in their pallor.
Music drifts behind us and occasionally gasps as imperfections play like daring circus tricks.
The sparkling prodigy returns disappointed, grimace of a smile, stricken, he stares away as we search for words, oh! clumsy, unrepairable prince!
Suddenly, its time and I wonder why we are hurrying, feeling weak, momentarily frightened to go there.
On this stage in this great, hushed hall, enormity suddenly dawns with mass enough to crush me.
At last I sit before this odd Steinway music machine - my dearest mechanical friend.
A tremble resisted - the reward of mortal afternoons - endless practices fruit.
Eyes closed I prepare my best self - pushing all fear, all doubt, to the margins - and begin.
I hope, to recreate, one note at a time, Chopin's ancient impact - with hands flying, like tethered birds, I hammer out his timeless melody explosions, his streams of crazily exact math exam fiery semiquaver motions.. then, almost suddenly, I'm done.
I stand, joyously, nearly crying.. The world hasn't ended.
~In The Light~
(Villanelle )
There was something not right this dark night
It came creeping slowly by
Passing through before it was light
It filled the forest with a glow bright
She grew so frightened she did cry
There was something not right this dark night
And as she ran all the while in fright
She quickly gazed at the dark sky high
Passing through before it was light
In the dark she closed her eyes tight
Praying in her mind to God she didn't die
There was something not right this dark night
Of sudden she stopped as she saw an sprite
Star like did gleam in those very tiny eyes
Passing swiftly before it was light
Now she had something about she could write
As more sprites fairies flew 'round oh my!
There was something not right this dark night
Passing through before it was light.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2012
January.26.2015
Do you know what it’s like
To have your freedom back at last,
To be able to choose new colours
Once pinned out of reach to the mast,
To find tho’ you’ve lost your employment,
You can still retain all of your pride,
To discover the grass is greener
On the unexplored other-side,
To patch up your battered ego,
Once thought irretrievably torn,
To feel a strong urge to celebrate,
When others expect you to mourn,
To take a fresh look at careers,
When you thought it was all in the past,
To discover your destiny’s liquid,
And never in concrete cast,
To realise your aspirations,
Which no more are held on ice,
To alter your life’s ingredients,
And add a small pinch of spice,
To discover you’re no longer frightened
By things that are different or new,
To embrace all those sensible changes,
And take a much loftier view,
To keep everything in context,
And never let monsters appear,
To look to your dreams and take aim,
Keeping your sights crystal clear,
To be intimidated no longer
By applicants younger than you,
To know a wise captain will always
Choose an experienced crew,
To retain your sense of adventure,
Your instinctive love of fun,
To put down the now closed chapter,
And enjoy the one just begun,
To be welcomed back to life’s table,
And invited to sit down and dine,
To feast till you’re utterly bloated,
And swill it all down with sweet wine.
Let me tell you a story…
A story about life, where Solitude gracefully glides into the room, wearing a loose fitting gown, draping her curvaceous form. Piously she takes her place at the table of life, she is surrounded by Faith, Hope, Despair, Vision, Reality, and Fantasy. Furtive Destiny is seated at the head of the table, shrouded in mystery.
Faith is subdued, radiant, gracious and kind. Her reassuring smile gives life and courage to Hope. They share a unique friendship, if either of them departs, the other becomes reclusive.
Hope shines in the spotlight with Faith. She dazzles with magic tricks; lighthearted yet fragile. She holds her breath so often I fear one day she may not catch it. Optimistic Faith, reminds Hope to breathe in and breathe out.
Despair, clad in a dark cloak; averts his sullen glassy eyes. His temerity threatens and blind sights the spirit of Faith and Hope; vulnerable and frightened they reach out to Vision.
Vision is creative, casting Faith and Hope in life’s productions; drawing back the curtain of blindness, revealing hopeful possibilities.
Reality, a disciplinarian. He is strong and terse; building strength on the bedrock of truth. Discerning facts, sorting out fiction.
Fantasy, a flighty temptress, playfully teases Reality who becomes uncomfortable; secretly he admires her, especially when Destiny leaves the room.
Destiny holds the key to life’s fate. Confident and at times unforgiving; she never plays favorites. Wise, with the knowledge she solely possesses the power of our tomorrows. Reality is her soulmate, keeping a harmonious balance. There is talk they are involved, but Destiny does not reveal her private life.
Date: April 19, 2022
For: Form N - Narrative - New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Theme: Life
Grammar verified on P.S. Grammar check
Placed 1st in contest