Long Futility Poems
Long Futility Poems. Below are the most popular long Futility by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Futility poems by poem length and keyword.
I'm making an observation
Bout the state of the world today
This is what I've come up with
In my own inimitable way
Maybe it's cuz I'm an old guy
It seems there's much more strife
There doesn't seem, like years ago
As much laughter in everyone's life
I know there'll always be conflict
Somewhere around the world
This nation or that one gets aggressive
Controversy begins to swirl
Then one country threatens the other
Military action follows soon
We're like a bunch of nasty children
Yelling, “Hey that's my balloon!”
Seems like there isn't a cure for this
But there's always hope I guess
That mankind will see the utter futility
And realize it doesn't make any sense!
Nourished on fertile ground* of good works’ harvests
my stewardship, yielded to the Supreme Creator
ceaselessly persists against impediments
blossoming for functional productivity…
Once a breeding plot of university secularism
my mind had its activism germinations
midst cynicism and skepticism weeds
along liberalism sproutings…
Then in the most opportune planting time
God, through His sent-out Gospel sower
embedded to my soul His seeds
spiritual truth for life eternal…
Hence, watered by the Lord’s mercy, nurtured by His grace
my life, the Saviour compassionately redeemed
from miserable sin-condemned futility
toward His favored fruitfulness…
Now on fertile ground within Christ’s green house
God’s Word flourishes despite pest attacks
in my re-created being, ransomed soul
converted heart, renewed mind…
Yes, I thank the Almighty for letting me thrive well
on fertile ground of His blessed service-vineyard
enabling my worship to glow with serene bliss
while leading others toward His light.
*Luke 8:15 But that on the good ground are they, which in an honest and good heart, having heard the word, keep it, and bring forth fruit with patience.
August 14, 2021
3rd place, "This or That, Vol 5" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh; judged on 8/20/2021.
I remained like that date
on which no special work could happen.
I remained the middle date of that month,
whose number only kept matching every month.
I remained alone—
like a snare,
like a fading flower,
like a living corpse,
slowly deceiving itself,
day by day.
I don’t know
in what useless race I am.
I never win;
I only keep losing
little pieces of myself.
Yet the days kept passing,
like pages
no one cared to read.
Perhaps one day
this forgotten date on the calendar
will learn
how to bloom.
Until then,
I keep breathing, marking, treading
through each day and night,
as the clock continues—
time moving quietly
toward an unmarked date.
Context,
Boer War , South Africa
The Battle for Spion Kop
Slag van Spioenkop
Ladysmith , Natal
23 January 1900
British forces under the command
Sir Redvers Buller
Dug in to take the higher ground
on Spion Kop
In order to engage the Boer army
encircling below
Lead by General Louis Botha
The rest is written down in history, folklore and infamy
And a famous football club's stand named after it
Dedicated to it's fallen
2nd Battalion Lancashire Fusseliers
243 Dead
1250 Casualties
I write this only because,
i myself visited this hilltop graveyard paid homage and knelt before it's unkept memorial upon it
And instead of feeling what i thought
i should be the travesty, horror and
utter futility of war
And whilst leaving took 1 final glance over my shoulder at the vista and panorama only to be over come by the sheer unadulterated serenity and beauty
And i left perversely thinking what a beautiful place to die
Death has a hell of a lot to live up too
December 6 Scripture Meditations Based on Hebrews 9-10
Key Verse – Hebrews 10:12 But this man, after he had offered one sacrifice for sins for ever, sat down on the right hand of God.
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR OFFERING YOURSELF AS A SACRIFICE FOR ME
Thank You for offering Yourself as a sacrifice for me…
… and my great salvation
From hell-condemnation
By Your redeeming compassion
Verily securing me toward grand heaven’s jubilation.
Thank You for offering Yourself as a sacrifice for me…
… and my holy forgiveness
From iniquities-filthiness
By Your sanctifying cleanliness
Verily granting me everlasting pardon’s completeness.
Thank You for offering Yourself as a sacrifice for me…
… and my protected assurance
From religiosity-endurance
By Your empowering deliverance
Verily strengthening me with divine righteousness’ perseverance.
Thank You for offering Yourself as a sacrifice for me…
… and my glorious eternity
From worldliness-vanity
By Your life-building sovereignty
Verily leading me to celestial destination’s certainty.
Thank You for offering Yourself as a sacrifice for me…
… and my acceptable service as well as worship
From idolatry-friendship
By Your guiding partnership
Verily keeping me inside faithful stewardship’s fellowship.
Thank You for offering Yourself as a sacrifice for me…
… and my blessed future
From futility-torture
By Your sustaining gesture
Verily upholding me through biblical ministry’s posture.
Thank You for offering Yourself as a sacrifice for me…
… and my virtuous aim
From selfishness-fame
By Your transforming flame
Verily molding me toward godly perfection’s frame.
December 6, 2022
powerless to the force of fate?
the futility of human will
when fate swallows free will like a tidal sea
when choice is neither safe nor certain
you embrace everything happening as fate's design,
an inevitability
perhaps an unseen deity pulling puppet strings?
we are like mismatched spoons in a drawer
to me, there's substance in free will
often wrong directions spinning us out of control
realism that springs from life's seeds
no submissiveness to fate
no resignation to what's believed inevitable
with no obvious design, chance breeds tales of sorrow
sometimes the good end unluckily
while the bad can prosper
unequal outcomes remain unexplained
it's not a world to yield its secrets
bad luck happens (no reflection on self)
it's widespread like bird droppings
Can we reach a different conclusion?
to value moments of misdirection
when personal error becomes art,
poetry that rattles our nerves
from the keen edge of free will,
choice
that stretches beyond a fated helpless
to know that the stars aren't calling the shots
to know that a world of war-hell
is a hell of our own making
Poem composed August 29/2022
For Edward Ibeh
Contest: This or That Volume 13
A Birdie Friend In Hell
Hell is not an empty place but there is endless pain
When you enter, there are no exit signs
The real estate is not for sale
It is paid for with your soul
A billion miles of granite rock lands on you
Compressing you in place, to wait, and wait some more
Billions of miles away from other souls you stay
There are no parties either
A tiny anemic birdie is perched atop the endless rock
There to rescue you, (If it does not die of illness or old age
Or some other dangers imposed by nature)
After 30 trillion years it removes a fraction of a layer
With its tiny beak, tweet tweet, removes perhaps a grain or two
The giant granite mountain of a rock holds fast and true
After 5 million years, another trillion miles of rock are added
Piled on top, the original billion miles of rock
Not as an act of futility but for your discomfort
We pray you understand and forgive us for such measures
As for the birdie; is it still alive?
He struggles and takes a feeble breath
We pray that he won’t expire
Who will dig you out from all those miles?
12/05/14 -Dark and Deep (old poems only) - Poetry Contest - Sponsored by: SKAT A
"The 'Israel of God' is finished!
We have inflicted horrific wounds,
And we terrorize them further.
Their bodies are weak and brittle.
They are useless, broken jars,
Caught in the net we hid from them.
They wail like abandoned children,
Soon death will silence them.
May they lay silent in their graves,
May their god go down with them,
May their thoughts die with them,
Like those who never lived at all!
Poisoned by their Headwaters,
Their filth dumps into the Sea,
Proving toxic to the Nations,
Defiling all that they touch.
Let us rejoice in their distress,
Let us stoke their pain and groans,
Let us wipe them from the earth,
Abolished without a second thought."
"I hear your rebellious blather!
Words of arrogance and contempt.
Your tongues of strife are hasty,
Your confidence is like spittle.
Who causes My promises to fail?
Who cuts Me off from My people?
Who surpasses My works in Creation?
Who can thwart My loyal love?!
You have stumbled into My trap!
Like Pharaoh tossed in the Red Sea,
Like Sennacherib invading Judah,
Like Satan crucifying the Christ.
I told you things before they happened,
I warned you to turn and repent,
You refused and hardened your hearts,
So My recompense will burst forth.
From every corner of the Universe,
I have summoned My retribution.
I will repay you for what you have done.
Your blood will bathe their feet!
Come and experience My vengeance,
While the faithful enjoy My salvation.
You will be held accountable,
On the day I terrorize the ungodly.
For I am angry at all the nations,
And furious with all their armies.
I will annihilate and slaughter them.
My adversaries are reduced to nothing!
Do I worry about your rebellious plans?
'I AM' is laughing at your futility.
Repent! Receive My salvation and joy.
For My loyal love endures forever."
I'm making an observation
Bout the state of the world today
This is what I've come up with
In my own inimitable way
Maybe it's cuz I'm an old guy
It seems there's much more strife
There doesn't seem, like years ago
As much laughter in everyone's life
I know there'll always be conflict
Somewhere around the world
This nation or that one gets pushy
Controversy begins to swirl
Then one country threatens the other
Military action follows soon
We're like a bunch of nasty children
Yelling, “Hey that's my balloon!”
Seem like there isn't a cure for this
But there's always hope I guess
That mankind will see the utter futility
And realize it don't make no sense!
© Jack Ellison 2013
The traveller’s regrets
He has been a sailor all his life, a traveller trying to find
the boy he left behind, the haste to become an adult
an Autumnal leaf falls into the stream follow its course
but sometimes, there is a tiny inlet where it gets stuck
with other debris before getting loose again and drifting
to where the stream meets a river that ends in the sea
where mighty rivers add nothing but mudbanks that
are full of nutrients and attract edible snappers.
Often, he senses the world ache of the futility of life
to stop for a little while for inaudible contemplation
not to hunger for what he cannot acquire, the ease
of a life well lived.
He thinks the boy will know, who has lived long enough
not to chase rainbows, a fleur-de-lys is but pretty and
disappears from view in a dreamy haze.
Perhaps it was the voyage that mattered and not how
it ends.