Long Grip Poems
Long Grip Poems. Below are the most popular long Grip by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grip poems by poem length and keyword.
I dreamt of embracing the abyss
I slept in silence and grief
Exterminate my negativity
Make me feel whole...fill in my holes...and lead me to eternal bliss and prosperity
Time is ticking like a bomb about to blow up into smoke and flame
It alarms to say this, but how DARE you waste my valuable time
Bite the bullet (ooh ohh ohh ohh yeah)
Bite the bullet...see right through it...
See right through my pain
And I'm still waiting for His healing rain
To shower upon me relief...
(ooh x7)
Don't drown in stress and misery...reach and hold on to the rope of hope
With a firm grip...
Of reality
Or are you willing to accept
My helping hand?
Allow me escort you to the Promise Land
Bite the bullet (ooh ohh ohh ohh yeah)
Bite the bullet...see right through it...
See right through my pain
And I'm still waiting for His healing rain
To shower upon me relief...
(ooh x7)
I dreamt of embracing the abyss
I slept in silence and grief
Exterminate my negativity
Make me feel whole...fill in my holes...and lead me to eternal bliss and prosperity
Bite the bullet (ooh ohh ohh ohh yeah)
Bite the bullet...see right through it...
See right through my pain
And I'm still waiting for His healing rain
To shower upon me relief...
(ooh x7)
Time is ringing like a church bell in the night...it's your time to say goodbye and it's our time to explore the light...
In goodbye...oh, how time flies...
Conceal the farewells...and blow away the woeful lies
Bite the bullet (ooh ohh ohh ohh yeah)
Bite the bullet...see right through it...
See right through my pain
And I'm still waiting for His healing rain
To shower upon me relief...
(ooh x7)
Bite the bullet
And snatch the rope
Ignore to rising debt
And marry good luck...
And catch gratifying hope
Before it slips away into the raging waters
Bite the bullet (ooh ohh ohh ohh yeah)
Bite the bullet...see right through it...
See right through my pain
And I'm still waiting for His healing rain
To shower upon me relief...
(ooh x7)
You and I will watch the sunset and the gorgeous waterfalls
If I'm not available, leave me a message and remember to always remember that
God always answers His calls
Pouring out my heart, it’s devoid of all blood
Perhaps more knotted, resembling of redwood
Splinters and shavings, fall away with each thud
Can’t escape this logjam, only wish I could
Pouring out my heart, but it’s failing to bleed
I’m losing my grip, roots won’t let me proceed
Failing right now, to try express what I need
Asking friends to listen, then pay them no heed
Pouring out my heart, packs sawdust in a sack
Peep inside the hessian, can only see black
Empty now, that’s ok, voids always grow back
How come I’m still here, has Jesus cut me slack
Pouring out my heart, clots heavily engrained
Tied to dilemmas, escaping leaves me drained
Worse part of all, my collapse is unexplained
For better or worse, gravity’s not sustained
Pouring out my heart, there’s nothing’s left to pump
Felled to the ground, with the slightest little bump
Prostrate and broken, a fragmented tree stump
I’m resting come join me, make a chair we’ll slump
Pouring out my heart, through a duty of care
The fruits of my labor, look across and glare
I gaze beyond them, thinking life’s over there
Vines grow round my neck, help lift me off the chair
April had not always been open for change
as her name would suggest on the surface
too dark were her youth and gloomy mind
shaped by seasons of torment and abuse
as she festered under cover of loneliness
Only her un-stable moods suited saltation
from reckless mania to agonizing arrest
when springs in her step led downwards
relentlessly squashing any attempt of joy
she longed for winter to cover her remains
It was not for lack of trying to blossom
but any buds of happiness wilted before
sap would flow freely and left her with
thorns scars lacerations purulent wounds
that oozed defeat misery and abandon
Winter scape granted no pretty snowflakes
only icicles like daggers and permanent frost
an avalanche covering a veil of false composure
would not thaw long enough to melt her grip
clawed at resolve sent a pick axe into her brain
‘Pull yourself together’ but the strings were twisted
‘grimace happy smiles but don’t look in the mirror’
yet for once she disobeyed and glimpsed reflection
where August held her with love and honest regard
he who himself had suffered for only being himself
Hailstorms continued to grant tempest and thunder
but a lightning bolt changed the aperture of doom
opened up unimaginable courage and togetherness
at last they found love meaning and understanding
tied hands and hearts together to seal their wedlock
11th April 2021
April Poetry Contest
Sponsor Regina McIntosh
The name April refers to opening up
The name August means to hold in high regard
Say a prayer for fathers who had to bury their sons,
Hands that taught how to tie laces now lowering caskets,
Shoulders that once lifted boys to see parades
Now shaking under the weight of earth and silence.
Teach them how to breathe again
When the house is too loud with absence.
A chant for mothers who mourn those who would stand beside their graves,
Wombs that carried, hearts that carried more,
Now counting anniversaries with candles that won’t be blown.
May the night not swallow them whole,
May morning find them with strength enough
To make tea for one less cup.
Picture the empty chair at Sunday dinner,
The shoes by the door that won’t walk again,
The laughter caught mid-air like dust in sunlight.
Grief doesn’t ask permission.
It moves in, hangs coats, and stays.
So we learn to set one more plate for memory.
For the fathers who practiced firmness but broke in the car,
Who drive past the field and grip the wheel tighter,
Who tell stories just to hear the name out loud.
May God be near to the brokenhearted,
And may the ground they walk feel less like a grave
And more like ground that still holds them up.
For the mothers who fold clothes that won’t be worn,
Who see his face in every young man on the street,
Who pray with tears because words have run dry.
Let dew find their windows in the morning.
Let a stranger’s kindness be manna.
Let them know their love did not die with him.
So we say a prayer, and we raise a chant,
Not to end the pain, but to carry it together.
For every son gone too soon,
For every father’s bowed head,
For every mother’s vigil by the window —
May we be the ones who stand beside their graves,
Until they can stand again.
(In memory of Trust orhirhi, d sherrif of warri).
My reefs look dazzling in the dawn light.
A sea of hypocrisy and lies that we must fight.
They are held to what they are allowed to view,
And yield when they grip their identity and hue.
I can hear sighing while I'm still close firmly,
Millennia ago, by beings apt to live eternally.
I can feel their vicinity and smell their fragrance.
It clasps me from behind and grabs my flagrance.
We follow in the footsteps of our predecessors,
And behave visibly toward enticing assessors.
There was an aiming brain area you won't believe,
As surely as a harp, we allow creeds to leave.
I hear mirth while a harp plays awe-tune finery.
Father was the donor, and I await your midwifery.
When it's dark outside and you can grip the stars,
I dwell under the glow of lightning and scars.
A royal seagull holds all distress and saltiness,
Tears of despair fall freely and with snottiness.
Something floats over the burdened couple,
You've lost much delight due to this supple.
My reefs of logic, mystery, and terra incognita,
Ouachitas goldsmiths were jarred by Amanita.
Adverse times allude to a poet's stark weary right,
Ideal lovers, Poseidon and the neat Amphitrite.
Stop at the limit of the path, and then proceed,
When did most souls stop using spiked metal?
Set on the inert tools and the virtue laws creed,
It's time for testing, for ages to avow their mettle.
My dark and grim retentions fulfill my dream,
Lulling tones of a long-forgotten cradle scream.
In the twilight, forlorn and tender songs unfold,
In the pulsing beats of entering and release, untold.
My reefs look dazzling in the dawn light,
A sea of hypocrisy and lies that we must fight.
They are stuck with what they are entitled to view,
Focus on the future, not their burial lot due.
My boat goes across a cool, undulating lake,
Seven stars' light bulbs burn dimly in my sake.
1st Place Contest Winner
Written: August 05, 2022
This or That, Vol 13 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Keeping the limited time in mind,
I’ve lost grip of the rope of hope almost…
But I’m seriously frustrated –
Why did you leave my side? Who can mend this rip
In my heart, once fabricated by affection?
Open wide your ears,
So I can whisper forgiveness that I’ve hidden for years
There’s no use in running away…
No use in waiting another day…
There’s a great purpose for you and I to shine
To brighten up the night…
The brokenhearted strangers…the distraught orphans
The bad conditions of this world frighten me!
I need to become more like His child
His joyous sheep!
This harmful behavior…
I-I must be strong
And put an end to it…before the roots get too deep
I know it’s dangerous and wrong! It's too much pressure to reap!
So, what am I supposed to do when I feel down?
Are you even there to erase my frown?
Anyways, I wish you good in all you do
I wish you good health and luck too
But, I’m alive and I’m in a restful state
Fighting the feelings of hate
What is there to do?
Wait for an answer that will never come?
What is there to say?
Do I pray for God’s soon-to-be Kingdom?
I got to explore deeper so I can find
The one I truly love…God knows I’ve tried
I got to seek change before my time’s up – tell me if I’m falling behind
I’m feeling numb at the wrong time…my high hopes has died
Should I shout for your attention?
Or would that be too much of an intrusion?
Whatever fits the occasion…
Don’t laugh at me…
I’ve married anticipation!
You’re a beloved guest to the wedding!
We’ve got together with God’s fortification…
When I saw the Grim Reaper
pull out his peeper and pee on the patio,
I yelled, "Hey Jack!
Can't you use the facilities out back?
That's what normal people do, you know.
I always said I wasn't afraid of death,
till one night, Death tried to rob me of my breath.
And as I was gasping for air,
he said with a cold, penetrating stare,
"Next time they ask if you're afraid of death,
just say 'Yesth.'"
I came to this hospice to die.
I see Mister Death standing by.
He's consulting a note.
I thought he did everything by rote.
What’s with that quizzical look in his eye?
When Mister Death had me firmly in his grip,
I pleaded, "Sir, can we please make this a round trip?"
He said, "I'm sorry to say,
this trip is only one way.
But we do serve drinks, and chicken wings,
with a delectable ranch dip."
When it got to be close to seven,
we were still a half-light year away from heaven.
I said, "Mister death, one question more.
When will we get to heaven's door?"
"Oh, not till tomorrow morning, Sir,
about a quarter past eleven.
When I reach the pearly gates with the grim reaper as my guide,
I hope the question of whether I get heaven or hell is only for Jesus to decide.
Because if Peter is allowed his opinion, and then that apostle Paul,
I don't think I stand much of a chance at all.
When we got to heaven, Saint Peter said,
“Hurry in, quick, so I can shut the door ~
you were being closely followed by the Babylonian whore.
And if she were to get in,
God only knows what trouble I'd be in.
Heaven would never again be the same as before.”
To folks staring at a screen in a brightly lit room,
I said, "I have arrived in heaven, right, I presume?"
"Yes, yes," they replied, my soon-to-be heavenly friends.
“But until this gosh darn epidemic ends,
there's no other way to do heaven but by Zoom.”
Heaven is not at all what I expected.
It’s hell to be stuck in a place with the boring elected.
They do nothing but this goody-goody-two-shoe stuff!
Believe me, after half an eon, I’ve had just about enough.
Oh, where’s the escape button? I wanna be ejected.
The end
From years that life has already lived and passed,
We walked through trials carved deep by the past.
Where truth wore masks and lies stood dressed as right,
And borrowed grace concealed the face of night.
Yet through the storms that shook both heart and ground,
We held small joys where quiet peace was found.
In tender moments, hand in faithful hand,
We learned how fragile joys still learn to stand.
The world stood opposite, the voices cold,
Many once near us rose only to oppose.
We chose not fear, nor grief to claim our name,
But strength—to be our loved ones’ shield of flame.
When weakness whispered softly in my chest,
I turned to words that gently gave me rest.
I opened Qur’an, and felt my soul respond:
“Wa tu‘izzu man tasha’u wa tuzillu man tasha’.”
Accusations fell like heavy rain,
Trust was betrayed, yet hope remained.
And when my spirit trembled, torn and frail,
One truth arose that never came to fail:
“Hasbunallahu wa ni‘mal wakeel,
Ni‘mal maula wa ni‘mal naseer.”
The grip of fear then loosened from my breath,
And faith stood taller than all loss or death.
For no dark night denies the coming dawn,
No wounded soul is ever truly gone.
What lies ahead still waits with lessons new,
Unwritten pages calling us to move.
Prepared we stand, with patience as our guide,
And quiet joys the storms cannot divide.
Let trials arrive—they will not make us stay,
They cannot halt the brave who choose their way.
We walk ahead, unbroken, tried, and true—
Whatever comes, may you never lose yourself in any fight.
I was an experienced family therapist, helping families maintain functionality,
As wandering, starlit seasons maintain all nature, being rooted in practicality.
I loved preserving healthy relationships, that foundation of healthy societies;
And kept up a fruitful dialogue between the families, which relieved anxieties.
I, myself, had come from a happy home, never causing huge worries or fears,
For dear ones that I loved, never seemed to be leaving, as silvery cloud tears.
Friends dropped by like colorful fall, never failing to fetch the fondest smiles,
In the midst of a watchful, apricot noon, when rouge butterflies were in exile.
Family flew past fluffy clouds each fall, when autumn was pretty and frumpy,
Like field blossoms of windswept fragrance, elegantly disheveled and grumpy.
I lived in the house of sweet memories, and smiling faces on rose hued walls,
As rouge sun swims in roses nightly, prior to descending the precipitous falls.
Street performers were small, singing sparrows, on my swank avenue of sun;
Like a solo turns into a chorus, creating a prettier song-more elegantly done!
Nearsighted neighbors came to see me nights, and gaze at nacre pearl moon,
On the peach, peony porch of my placidness, in colors of the faded afternoon.
All were seized in summer's saffron grip, creating orange juice mist sunsets,
Like walking away, when it is best, and yet brave enough to have no regrets.
Flowers thrilled hot, apricot hours, and birdsong excited long, obsidian nights,
Cats slept on porches of ruby pansies, their short, sweet lives full of delights.
Then persistent tragedy finally struck me, when I lost a dear family member;
And while I suffered long and cried, I was comforted by smiles I remembered!
I found great solace in my work, for helping others paves the way for smiles,
Like keeping glad eyes on the summer garden, to delve its newest color files.
I found a love and was eventually married, like first tango of sun and planets;
And we and our children continue family traditions, like lofty birdsong habits.
Today, my grief is much diminished, like storm clouds fading into saffron sun,
For minds full of memories, help loving hearts heal, like rosy day just begun.
In the waiting room …
A sea of ashen faces
Women with their partners
We were waiting, just waiting
My name is called
Heart pounding I gather by belonging
My husband gets up …
But he’s told he can’t come in with me
I feel vulnerable and alone
In the little cubicle I undress and put a hospital cape on
Now its time for my mammogram
The machine clamps me tight with a vice like grip
Yes it Shrove Tuesday and is Pancake Day for my right breast!
Thankfully it’s all over very quickly
I sit alone in the waiting area
Waiting, just waiting
Try to do a puzzle but my mind is elsewhere
A door opens and my name is called
Now for the ultrasound
A blob of cooling gel, the scan is painless
Everything looks fine
They tell me I have ‘young breasts’ whatever that means!
Shame about the rest of me I quip and we laugh
Now I need to see the specialist to be examined
So it’s back to the waiting area
Waiting, just waiting
I get called into another room
Mmmm he’s very attractive with brown eyes and greying hair
But I digress!
A quick examination and everything is fine
This time my lump is tissue and is deemed to be benign
02~28~17