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.
Going through life blindfolded
Avoiding any of my fears
Trying to hold back the tears
From years of drifting far and near
Hoping that the best parts of life haven't disappeared
Feeling empty destination unknown
Searching far and wide for a place of my own
Never really knowing if my soul had grown
Believing that my life has taken flight
Getting older realizing it's far from right
Keeping my goals not far out of sight
Looking for a place the sun shines so bright
Day after day try as I might
Something is missing night after night
My soul feels empty like I am losing the fight
Until the day my life would fill with such delight
Finding a bible about a kings life
Verse after verse I feel my heart fill with excitement
Believing in Gods promise my soul enlightened
I no longer feel lost or frightened
Knowing he is with us holding us upright
When he ignites our spirits into flight
Filling my world with so much incite
Helping me rewrite
What was stopping the light
That makes our soul shine so bright
Inviting our spirit to sail away into the twilight
Oh lord now I feel your presence near
You have made all my tears disappear
Now I know why I was living in fear
My blindfold removed knowing you are always here
Making my life feel so genuine and sincere
Creating an ideal world full of Gods love and good cheer
On my early morning walks…I always walk alone
It’s a quiet, peaceful…walk I take all on my own.
I was lost in sad thoughts this morning about guns and war
about a world filled with hate and animosity
when I heard what I thought were footsteps coming up behind me.
I turned to greet whoever it was and immediately stopped to stare
because not only had the footsteps stopped…but…there was no one there!
Thinking it was my imagination…I continued walking…but then
the sound of all those footsteps started up again
I wasn’t frightened, however, I felt a comfort…a peace and harmony
I was either going crazy…or some of my ancestors were walking with me.
I have a wonderful family and friends in my life that help to see me through
but I imagine my ancestors just wanted to remind me…they are with me too.
Reminding me that when I walk…even when I think I’m on own…
I’m not…for if the footsteps were any indication…I never walk alone.
And though my ancestors did not speak to me…my spirits began to soar
and when they did I could not hear their footsteps anymore.
I walked the rest of the way home in silence…
thankful for their not-so-subtle reminder….
to remember the world is also filled with people
who are loving…generous..and kinder.
And for reminding me that although there is hatred in the world…
what I should be thinking of
Is how I am an invaluable link in a long ancestral chain of love.
A chain of love that stretches as far back as I can postulate…
A chain of love that is stronger and will last longer…than any chain of hate.
She was the worst kid, the worst of the worst.
The teacher tried to quit the first day after she put her through hoops and paces
And dunked her head in a toilet.
This was not her first teacher.
This was her fifth teacher.
The others had all given up their teaching licenses,
Preferring to drive school buses without her in them.
They had spent almost a whole semester with her.
She was that good.
Most teachers she had gone through
Went out on FMLA before Christmas break.
Called winter break now to satisfy everyone.
Except me.
I still call it Christmas break.
Queen of the worst kid ever contest, she was a pro.
Unfortunately, this also happened.
She was deeply revered and respected by frightened classmates.
~Butterfly Poets~
I long so to be a butterfly.
But wondered, do they get frightened
when it thunders?
Where do these slight things go in
a tornado?
Where do they hide when it rains?
Moreover, how do they find a mate?
Only a creative poet thinks such things.
Our minds, so magical, in truth they
actually have spiritual wings.
You can fly to the historic past!
Or in the magic of the preseny...be.
Ah! You lovely monarch you!
Sprinkling streaming stars of eternity.
All over blessed humanity!
6/28/2021
Everyone waits for another great performance
at the world-famous circus that attracts huge crowds,
and the star is none other that the fire shooter:
dark-aired, good-looking and tall with a charming laughter.
Some child under ten might be afraid when his mouth seems to suddenly explode,
but his mom holds him tight so he wouldn't shiver...
" Look, here comes the fireshooter with bouncing hair! "
And the happy kid laughs as the fireshoter enters the arena to delight, not bore.
" Son, be quite! Let him concentrate on his improvisation...
it can be an awesone surprise or a frightful experience of his spell,
but you mustn't cry...all is fake and he does it amazingly well! "
" Fire! Fire! " the terrified boy next to her yells, " He's going to burn! "
The short-temperd woman screams, " Sit down, and let enjoy the show, Buck! "
But the frightened kid says, " He's really on fire...please, call the firetruck! "
" Yes, he is! " she replies as she dails 911 for help and while terror-struck,
she takes off her coat and wraps around him to put out the flame by sheer luck.
Gray eyes and hair of such midnight black;
Gypsy Rose won't be coming back.
She'd a beauty which once set hearts afire!
And she wore such exotic attire!
Yellow moon remembers her ruby lips;
Blue roses fell from her fingertips.
Night rests tenderly upon her silken brow,
But she is so cold and silent now.
Only Yellow Moon witnessed her fall.
And only hoot owl answered her frightened call.
A sudden misstep in the near total dark,
Has left the gypsy queen cold and stark!
Yellow Moon remembers her ruby lips;
Blue roses fell from her fingertips
For she'd picked a sweet fragrance bouquet;
Now strewn about her in lovely disarray.
She is gone like a breath in the night,
And bled as the sun did at last light.
Yellow Moon remembers her ruby lips;
Blue roses fell from her fingertips.
" (Two roads) diverged in a yellow wood and I choose the
the one less traveled by and that has made
all the difference. "
Quote by - Robert Frost
Ha... ha... have your rabbits got three legs? Okay we agree,
This was how my friends fooled me for my ways uniquely free;
When all answered, I' am fine - for the question 'how are you?'
I said: Alright or keeping well... though these meant the same too;
They stopped a bit; looked unblinking; as though something was wrong,
Don't, yet, birds of every species has a divergent song...?
Does, when a rivulet diverges from the river, rebel?
Can an inaccurately rung Angelus turn death-knell?
To turn a rebel a rivulet should chose her own path,
On such choosing she might, sure, earn many a rotten wrath;
Could any seed, frightened of death, ever resuscitate?
Could any chick failing to spread wings reach the flying state...?
Taking a new path is like Socrates choosing hemlock,
Nay, choosing an untrodden path is not such a deadlock;
Thinking out of the box or looking through another glass,
It's when I say a grass or lass an ass death comes, alas!
Discovery and invention, lo, stand in united,
Yet, to shake hand with a person, uniquely far-sighted...!!!
08 June 2024
I had just retired to bed
Around midnight, perhaps
Soft strokes of guitar
First I got startled
It was a one room facility
Not a mouse in sight
I alone was on tour
On my office duty
Puzzled, I looked around
A velvet soft tune
Almost intoxicating
Coming from a little far
I can't recall
When exactly it induced
In me a pleasant sleep
A soft palm on my forehead
Made me spring out
With my heart pounding
My hands hit a milk can
It clattered on the floor
The musical notes stopped
Was someone playing guitar
In the adjoining room
But that would be unlikely
It was an old bungalow
Built by British rulers
In early twentieth century
The walls were pretty thick
I got frightened
Was it a haunted house
Was I dreaming
The guitar again started playing
I pressed the calling bell
A weird old man with a Fedora hat
Sporting long white beards
Guitar began playing again
I ran downstairs
The main gate was lying open
I spent the night in a park
My purse, cell phone
and credit card was missing
The care taker failed to explain
According to police
The building had a history
Of mysterious visits of spirits
The sound of strings was enthralling
As the evening was drawing near
Someone pulled me toward the house
I tried my best to stop my feet
Come, I'll put you to sweet sleep
A velvet voice whispered into my ears
_________________________________________
September 21, 2019
Note: I wrote this poem for the contest with the theme of haunted. As I was submitting, I came to notice the prescribed line limit of 16. Perhaps presbyopia.
I like, I love, I adore, I am.
We all want her to be our friend.
I can, I will, I enjoy, I play.
I race to her side each day.
Her name is optimism, joy, positivity.
I do not know about you, but I cannot get enough of her.
She feeds me, uplifts me, nurtures me,
loves me, and makes my heart glad.
She reflects opportunity, and possibility thinking.
I hate, I despise, I deplore, I won’t.
Give them a chance, I suggest.
"I can't! I hate them all!"
Every single one of them?
YES!
Have you ever met one?
I don’t HAVE to!
I stay away from him, for he is scaring me.
He has already frightened his wives and his children.
I was going to give him a chance.
But he is grouchy, grumpy, mean, unforgiving and he holds grudges.
He is rage, sadness, despair, despondency and hatred.
LeftBrain uses words
like communal tools
and autonomous weapons
While RightBrain invites rhythms and patterns of sound
and silence
like poetry
and lyrics,
sometimes angry and frightened turbulence
sometimes loving and reassuring sibilants
murmuring Earth's quietness.
Of these,
LeftBrain weaponed words
cannot be truly free
speech to unwarned
so unprotected
listening libertarians,
messages fired against militant non-listeners
already armed to demolish
voices unprepared for retribution.
Healthy tools become deadly weapons
when used against
those they were transparently designed
to vulnerably serve
strength of LeftBrain truth
as RightBrain's chiming beauty.
Without these two or three,
depending on how you see
weapons and tools,
wealth and health,
truth and beauty
held proactively together,
free speech is any message
from any medium
tragically unfree.