Long Groped Poems
Long Groped Poems. Below are the most popular long Groped by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Groped poems by poem length and keyword.
I have groped are around blindly seeking others to please.
Afraid to disappoint and fearing they would tease.
I was so misguided and at times it caused pain.
Now that I look back at it, the whole thing was insane.
Giving my powers to others and allowing them to control.
My own thoughts didn’t matter, I handed them my soul.
The purpose for my actions, still really isn’t clear.
Afraid they wouldn't love me, was my reason for fear.
Looking back now I see, home is where this begins.
Needing love from my parents, mercy from my friends.
My thoughts were shaped by what they would say.
I replayed them over ,many times ,many days.
God’s word one day showed me that I must repent.
Change my way of thinking is all that it meant.
I cleaned up my thinking with, the water of the word.
God says speak it out loud, faith comes when it's heard.
Believing will come hearing any words that are said.
Words of others are seeds Satan plants in our heads.
Repeating bible verses often, has helped them sink in.
It Renewed my thinking so the new me could begin.
God left us his word to meditate on every day.
To guide and direct us to illuminate our way.
When you feel lost and unsure what to do.
God’s word works for me, and it will work for you.
When he says nothing
When he says nothing after you’ve told him that two days after your first date a man groped you
When he says nothing after you said the guy grabbed your ass
When he says nothing after you tell him that guy says he’s been watching you
When he says nothing after you told him how helpless you felt
When he says nothing after you said you had to call the cops
When he says nothing after telling him how you wondered if the cop was judging you as he stood on your porch
When he says nothing does it really matter? Because he obviously never cared at all
When he says nothing
Huddled among massive rocks,
at the bottom of a barren cliff,
breathing in the strongest aroma of jasmines,
watching hordes of seagulls hover over an abandoned ship;
pensively and attentively spending peaceful times by calm river,
geese see me and slowly approach me to share some of this enthralling wander!
The flow of the river is constantly intriguing,
sometimes slow, other times rushing in the manner of a surge,
making the passing barges resemble timber floating
to their unknown destination, unless the currents change
and they will be crashing on the sandy blanks to dry out and decay;
the same fate awaits the fowls when their bodies become old and die!
Rare beauty I ravishingly behold while my attention is not swayed,
the thickness of the trees won't let the eyes penetrate their wilderness beyond,
only the restless ravens know their habitat and venture themselves in those woods;
I am groped by their mystery, but I dare not enter into the untamed animal' world,
as the woodpeckers continue making their noises to scare away any possible predators...
while moans of creatures are heard: are they attacked by wild dogs, or ferocious wolves?
The glow of the descending sun diminishes and a chill pervades my body,
my Windbreaker is the perfect attire to wear, and not make me feel the breeze's coolness;
the darker colors appearing above give indication of the arrival of a spectacular sunset,
those hues change brightness, and somehow seem to vanish as clouds impose their treat...
a storm wind coming, or is nature imitating our human nature to take control of destiny,
to spoil my peaceful times by this calm river...shouldn't I be angered by their hostility?
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
A Mystic’s Verse, I Will Listen
I roamed plains, prairies, climbed peaks.
I fell into seas, slept and dreamed in valleys.
I groped about, lost in darker veins.
I rode a white mare into burning light.
I crept endless roads of loss,
Trying all the angles,
Having only a touch of vague friends.
Never simple. Not easy. No foundation
Before I asked for you to come
To touch my soul. To surround. To capture,
To pervade.
In the absolute. To expect
To hear your voice, which by faith
Of a knowing I would...I did. Believe.
On a hot, June night, laying out flat
Back on the dusty floor. Secluded.
I did not see the hovering dove. But, I heard,
Not to my outer ears.
To my fully inner receiving. Undeniably you.
Greater than an intuition. An expanding
Of the soul to total revealed being —
In communion with the message;
In surrender to the creator of love;
Bringing an ecstasy.
Of the Promises. Of all possibilities.
Of those visions of the prophets. Full messages.
No more roaming. Tho altogether freed.
A rose brushed onto my life. And
Words sent to comfort, to grip, to secure.
Made a witness. Called a daughter...
Hearing the calls to her soul.
Alleluia! Lord be praised!
Bless us, every one.
—————————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger1/17/2021
Thanks be to God
As I once again watched hate emerge from a person the other day
this thought occurred to me…
What if the world was suddenly plunged into darkness?
A darkness so thick no-one could see.
And what if this obsidian darkness into which we had been thrust…
was the kind of darkness into which…our eyes could not adjust?
How would we interact…where would we even start…
as we groped inside this darkness…unable to tell each other apart?
I wonder would we be more accepting and compassionate if this darkness did arrive?
Would we be more generous…more giving…
if we knew we needed each other to survive?
I wonder in this darkness…what kind of world would our world would be?
I wonder if hate and prejudice would be as prevalent…for people we cannot see?
I wonder if in this darkness love for one another we would reclaim…
I wonder if in this darkness we’d treat everyone the same…
As I once again watched hate emerge from a person the other day
a second thought occurred to me…
That we are plunging ourselves into darkness…with all this hate we’re setting free.
A hate that is already clouding our world…with anger and animosity.
A hate that already…for some people…makes it impossible to see.
And it saddens me how our hate is slowly plunging our world into eternal night…
And I pray that we can change this…while we’re still able to see the light.
I pricked my finger
on a thorn of Voodoo roses
felt the stab of crimson
and sweet burn of saffron
in a tequila sunrise
I smelled apples but tasted oranges
as a clock chimed with mockingbirds
in the chartreuse trill of Spring
Summer's cerise burn passed
in a steamy haze
with the glistening sting
of hazelnut sand between my toes
and the white capped kisses
of salty teal on my face
before the cresting of absinthe foothills
One chill morning dew appeared
on pointed leaves as wisps of cirrus
sped in a porcelain sky
and salt lay on my cheeks
not of bright Pacific dreams
As I groped for apricot skies
rose petals fell and curled like ashes
acrid as whiskey and bitter as gin
lost in the gust of October's amber swirl
April's scarlet whisper was silent
in Autumn umber
the seasons having passed
in a sapphire moment
with the piercing shimmer
of Voodoo roses in bloom
10th Place
The Poet's Ear Contest
Sponsor: Greg Barden
Written: 7/16/17
-The Windmills of Your Mind-
Where do I go from here Jehovah. I have tried and I have not succeed. I did what
you have adviced and failed. I have followed your exampled, and instead I was
ostracized. You have seen my affliction, and you heard my out cried. I am wobbling
in a pit of excrement, and where is my rope. I have done nothing wrong again,and I
am being slaughtered. You have seen the two side on the coin, and why sweet
Jehovah you have not save me. Why per long this saga when every story has an
ending. Why make bad people look righteous, and good people look wicked. I have
beseeched you on matters and I have groped for your advice, and I have follow
them. Then where is my victory, you are "Jehovah God of Army" ,and I have lost the
war.
I couldn’t find my glasses this morning when I got out of my bed…
and as my hands groped around feeling for them…Asia popped into my head.
Asia was a beautiful, blind Autistic student I had many years ago…one I tried desperately to reach…which, thankfully, also left me open to all she had to teach.
Asia lived in the world she was born into…the world her fate designed…
she taught me I had to enter into her world before I could welcome her into mine.
Asia talked to herself incessantly…she had this running conversation going on inside her head…and it appeared this running conversation was way more interesting than anything I did or said.
One day I got this bright idea…I sat down and listened to the conversations in her head…then I began repeating…everything she said.
I remember the first time I did this…Asia paused, smiled then slowly swayed her head…
and when her head brushed up against my shoulder, “Is that you Yerman.” She said.
When I told her it was me who without being invited had encroached upon her space…she reached her hand up gently and began to feel my face.
She didn’t care what color my skin was, my age, my weight, my sex…these things she could not see…she only cared that, through the magic of her hands, she was beginning to recognize me.
From that moment on whenever I sat next to her…in the glow of her smile I’d bask…
and when I started repeating what she said…”Is that You, Yerman” she’d ask.
Then she’d feel my face and laugh…sometimes, I think she laughed a bit too much…which made me wonder if my face which I thought handsome in the mirror…
wasn’t as handsome to the touch.
And this was how we taught each other…with my eyes I helped, a little, to set Asia free
and in her blindness she taught me…you don’t need eyes to see.
Perhaps when it comes to getting along…being blind to our differences is the key…
Perhaps closing our eyes and opening our hearts is the best way for us to see.
When I finally found my glasses, and my blurriness had cleared…
for what it’s worth…
The first thing I did was close my eyes
and wish we had more Asias on this Earth.
Vaguely the morning descends on my head's heavy boulder,
stabbing the night away, like a rude intruder, and
vaguely, I stare in the mirror at the stranger staring at me.
You were once a familiar face and we shall have friendly chat again,
whenever you feel lonely and depressed. Of the noise outside,
I have no clue, there's probably a preacher pretending we're civilized.
I would be late for work now if I had a job and worried about the next pay check.
Vaguely I remember the good old days, when we burnt half those checks in happy hours, and the handsome tips I left behind. Now I live on memory alone.
Vaguely I shake my head for a nod to life and being here now without despair.
I am vaguely aware of death lurking outside the window, counting my days ahead, like a patient highway patrol bored with inaction. Crap, move to the side and show me your double, need someone to talk straight, without an accent, a certified copy. And where is the damn matches to light this cigarette? I must do something meaningful with my life, without any delay, before it is too late, for what? Vaguely I ask myself, knowing time is not on my side, only under my feet, like a suffocating crocodile that once groped my jaw and then spitted me away as too tasteless.
I, looking in the mirror yesterday,
witnessed distorted eyes replacing mine;
and, too, the lips and nose, as if a sign,
seemed bent crooked, misaligned in some way.
And, as I, squinting, gazed on that display,
an unheeding hand groped at the outline
of the coldly reflective glass confine.
I watched it slowly mangle the red-clay
body which, lifeless, answered my dead stare.
Tearing tripe from stomach, and from breast
the heart, those fingers worked maliciously,
dismembering each inch of skin less fair.—
I know not who it was who flayed my chest:
I? or that demon called Society?