Long Harassed Poems

Long Harassed Poems. Below are the most popular long Harassed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Harassed poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member The Color Of Evil Racism

I see the sad color of racism not every other day
But every second of the hour, all minutes of the day
I see the serious mental and physical damages
That this cancer has done throughout the ages
And is still doing to our beloved human beings
The others treat our People like they are leftover beans
On a petty pet's plate. Our people deserve respect
Fairness, justice, equality, acknowledgement
Compassion, credit and better treatment
Our sisters are tired of being left out on the deck
Our siblings are often harassed senselessly, persecuted
Falsely accused and relentlessly prosecuted
At one time, they were hunted and hounded by the system
At other time, hindered and haunted by an organized medium
Created to attack, destroy, burn, ravage and annihilate
To embarrass, marginalize, ridicule, punish and discriminate
I see the color of racism, when the police for no apparent reasons
Stopped, frisked and handcuffed our homeless, our elderlies
Or our law abiding citizens, like it was open seasons
To hunt for mule deer or bears, who behave like enemies
Of the civilized society. I see the sick color of racism
When our people are not hired not for being unqualified
But because of their skin color; they're quickly disqualified
Dismissed, fired or terminated. I see the monster of cynicism
All golly minutes of the day. The arrogance is unparalleled
Beyond belief. The racists forgot that God only created one race

One human race, one human race, one darn human race.

Their false pride, their fake supremacy, their ignorance is unleveled
And their audacity is incomparable. I see the colors of racism
Not that I want to search for them, not that I want to find them
Most of the time, I simply cannot elude, evade or escape them
It is not easy to ignore the litanies of bad or negative mannerisms
The bigots easily function like virulent or venomous vipers
That suck out the emotions, and that destroy all positive characters
Our lives, Black lives, like other lives, are sacramental and important
And our contributions to the world are significant
I see the ugly and surly color of racism not every other day
But every second of the hour, every minute of the darn day.


Copyright © February 24, 2015, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Refurbished Nursery Rhymes: Little Pig, Little Pig

When the wolf applied nicely
If he could come in,
The pigs replied thricely he shouldn't.
Then they scratched at the hairs
On their chinny chin chins,
And tightly bolted the door so he wouldn't.

But wolves, when out shopping,
Are not easily put off,
Even faced with the risks they are takin'.
This one ignored the wheezing,
And the nagging, rasping cough,
In his lust for ham, pork chops, and bacon.

First, he blew down the straw house,
Then the one made of sticks,
But by the third he was straining and grasping.
It was a veritable fortress
Of well-mortared bricks,
And emphysema left him panting and gasping.

With one last mournful howl,
The wolf knew he was done
And lay down in the driveway, embarrassed.
The pigs regained their composure
And called 911,
But when the cops came, the wolf claimed he was harassed.

The argument raged
For an hour or more
'til the cops gave them all a citation.
Still gasping for breath
As he slunk from the door,
The wolf was stopped by a squealed invitation.

"Wolfie, oh, Wolfie, please won't you come in?
We'd so like to have you for lunch."
And he would have gone on and ignored the appeal,
If he only knew that "ragout de loup" (pr. rah-goo duh loo)
Was the entrée, but he had no hunch,
And he was not one to pass up a free meal.

When a wolf's sick and hungry,
He might let down his guard
And do dumb things a wolf shouldn't ought to.
But for pigs, it's expedient
To get the final ingredient
Required for a tasty "wolf stew".

The wolf's huffing and puffing
Couldn't even come close
To the pigs' stratagems and devices.
After seven martinis,
It still hadn't dawned on the dope
That intelligence wasn't one of his vices.

If he'd had more brains than brawn,
This poor wolf might have known
That the pigs never meant to surrender.
They'd no more need to fear or hate him,
They knew the booze would marinate him,
So when they served him up and ate him,
He'd be quite succulent and tender.

If this tale has a moral, I'd like to propose
That "three heads are better than one" be selected.
In this case, not the one who worked the hardest,
But the ones who worked the smartest,
And as the little piggies guessed,
The wolf was the perfect luncheon guest.
Of course, their table manners weren't the best,
So they still made pigs of themselves, as expected.

Premium Member Fresh Studies

Sometimes, what you find in a study can only be expressed                            in the way that you walk it out. Occasionally, one can attempt                        to explain in words what his recent studies have revealed.
Many things that we have already learned are no longer fresh,                    and yield much-to-be-desired for a fulfilling life.

I must say that when I chose Him to be the one in whom
I would chose to put my faith, I did not discover him through
study or research. Nor yet was it a religion that I submitted to,                               but rather a relationship to which I was drawn. It was face-value                            acceptance and His words that both arrested and captured me.

This then is my feeble attempt at communicating                                            the present freshness that I am finding in Jesus Christ.
**************************************************
He's busy, but never harassed or hurried.
He is more gracious than I ever realized;
More forgiving than I ever understood;
More merciful than anyone can imagine.

He doesn’t mind washing the feet of his followers.
He delights in serving, not taking from, his disciples;                                                                     He's so practical that he likes fixing their breakfast.
Sometimes, he answers before we even ask the question.
He's more patient with me than I am with myself. He
gives me more of everything when I have nothing left.

He weeps with the weepers and reveals himself to the seekers.
He gets amazed with our faith, and races to our rescue.
He marvels at our doubts, and loves us no less.
He sleeps in storms and awakes when we call him.
He loves to bring peace and security to me.

He commands everything to be still in me.
He offers love to me and takes away the fear.
He gives me calm and poise, wiping away every tear.                                                                   He causes me to clearly see, and quiets the storms at sea.                                                                          
He calls men and women to forsake all and follow him.
He demands first place in our hearts. Who does this!!!?

07102009; 080221PSCtest, Your Personal Favorite Poetry                    Contest. Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS

Premium Member Odyssey of Oddities

Loving life hid beneath rim of cool ceramic bowl
Tree frog claimed proud place, toilet's homely hole
Enamoured by his simple palace making stance
I bend to peer at his green grip toe stick, entranced

My ordinary admonished by gaze from onxyx eyes
Quick reflex and instinct, skills by which Frog relies
Shine of black marble smartness lures me nearer
Knowing even with my bulk, I'm somehow inferior 

Rubber eyelid winks, peels open again enlarged
Eye wrinkles droop to hammock, I'm encouraged
To nestle within  humid folds, shrunk human glued 
Oscillated in his lid lures languishing duly procured

Spun suddenly, rubbery cocoon cosy lurches erratic
Some worry occurs I'll drown outside skin hammock 
Prior to paranoia taking over, thrown from dizzying ride
Launched into stark big bowl with steep slippery sides

Swim in cistern spew strangely renders me cleansed 
Lap in lurid blue sends me to inevitably to S bends
Whooshed and flushed with refreshed perspective
Dark harassed by diffused hues tug seductive 

Dolphin derived, my smooth unphased by spiralling
Saturated zones, ease honed, enamour never tiring
Snorkel hole snorts water, puffs readily on its purification 
Imbibing combines giddy with clarity, senses' temptation 

My forehead flicked flirtatiously by wide flamingo flippers 
Splayed feathers fan surface, showcase dance floor shimmer
Cabaret her costume, shakes crystal bead rainbow release
Ravishing precise pirouettes prim pink princess completes

Her curved beak caresses my porthole brain, rubs insistantly 
Into warm walnut shell weapon I'm swallowed quite quickly 
I spy through pomegranate seed eye, mirror lake unswayed
Stilled kindly by wind's nonexistance, decision to travel made

Climbed to bird's tiny tiara topped crest, covered in feathers
Graceful lace tu- tu floats my aquatic future endeavour
Bouyed weightless and grateful, flip draws no resistance 
Swim in S bend treasure, trip of sight resumed brilliance 



*** Spring has sprung!! 
      - in Australia 
      My branch beyond
      The tired pond
      of Earth, awakes
       Imminent Heaven 
      (perhaps) 
*** A collapse of facts
      Flight of  flamingo regalia
      Revel in place of waste
       -  Mystery flush takes
      on its S bend


       1st September 2020
Form: Couplet

Ridiculous Friend

You got it in your head it’s okay to make up excuses 
you’re only letting me down proving yourself to be useless 
continuously lie until your lie is accepted 
left feeling uncomfortable when your lie is rejected 

every year on my birthday you do exactly the same 
building up to it coming but on the day it’ll change 
a last second situation will arise just the same 
and you won’t be coming because you’re busy again 

when really you’re selfish and fear honesty  
making out that you’re helpless always lying to me 

so I don’t invite you that way you cannot drop out 
still you say you are coming and there isn’t a doubt 
but then on the day the unseen comes about 
expect me to waste time hearing lies out your mouth 
even though I ain’t asked you and never I cared 
you start telling me lies I thought I would be spared 
it bothers I’m nonchalant to the story you’ve shared  
like you need me believe you the reasons why you won’t be there 

so you follow me around and keep repeating the lie 
as I say I don’t care before saying goodbye 
so you can get on with what you need to tonight 
but you reappear many times through the night 
when you’re supposed to be busy you appear in my sight 

so you’re here to tell me why you cannot be here 
and as it’s my birthday I’ve no desire to hear 
but you’re annoyed at the effort that this lie is creating 
I don’t seem to accept it as I say you are faking 
insanity is when you expect a different result 
but you carry on lying each time’s an insult 

I’m in a club at this point you appear at the door 
demand I come outside to hear you lying once more 
but I don’t come quickly it’s my birthday I’m sure 
when I go outside you’re angry at me to the core  
because I took too long and it’s me you’re here for 
I’m wasting your time as you say the same as before 
all of your focus is on me believing your lie 
until it’s achieved you can’t go home satisfied 
and get stoned out your face the true reason that you lie 
annoyed that I don’t believe you and that I never asked why 
think you’re my best mate and can do what you like 
making it clear you’re only selfish inside 
treating me worthless as you repeatedly lie 
but you weren’t invited and have harassed me all night 
you only think about you I want you out of my life
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


The Son of Tyrants, Part Ii

Reporters swarmed, the rabid jackals,
around my house they made a big crowd,
even harassed my poor old mother
to the point she could barely go out.

I growled loud at more than a few,
got one locked up for trespassing,
thankfully they found other nonsense
and the frenzy wasn’t long-lasting.

But the damage had truly been done,
the internet will never forget,
I was practically a murderer,
commenters publicly wished me dead.

My love life soon faded to nothing,
barely went on two dates in three years,
more than one time, I'm ashamed to say,
I wondered why I remained here?

With people just judging by the group,
and my ‘group’ was my family ties,
condemned for things that I never did,
forever doomed to be despised.

Until one spring day this Christian girl
saw my profile and then swiped right.
I didn’t have high expectations,
but decided to go out that night.

Her name was Ester, when I saw her
I decided then on a new play,
told her about me, all right upfront,
then waited for what she would say.

She just smiled back, a knowing grin,
said,”I knew who you were from the start.
Had worries at first, then I recalled
the memories that plague my own heart.

“You see my father is a bad man,
used his fists and caused me to despair,
beat up my mother so very bad
she is forever bound to a chair.

“He is in jail now, for forty years,
but I am not to blame for his sins.
So who was I to disparage you?
I have no idea what lies within.

“No one should ever be held to blame
for something that's beyond their control.
I’m not my dad, and you’re no tyrant,
what you are I’d like to get to know.”

For the first time in so many months
I felt new hope spring up in my mind.
I’m Ester’s husband, seven years on,
no finer woman can you find.

We have two kids, a suburban house,
a big one with a three-car garage,
when media comes, I let her loose,
they go scurrying from the barrage.

I no longer worry all that much
about what other people say,
I am no killer, just a father,
so let the useless talking heads bray.

They all just see my evil grandpa,
and never truly will understand,
maybe I was born son of tyrants,
but I myself am a good man.

…and they will not take that from me.
Form: Narrative

Dear America

Everyone is searching for answers in the midst of current tragedies 
Two unarmed black men and five white cops gunned down mercilessly 
Black in Americans are incensed over the slaying of so many black men 
But the answer is not the killing of white cops to make it even 
Yet there is very little sympathy or justice when a black man is slayed
But if a white cop is shot a social uproar is on full display

Dear America I need you to comprehend it's about the economy 
As there's not enough to go around for the majority 
The economical and political climate of Jesus's time is just like today 
Where the poor and downtrodden are hopeless, harassed and totally dismayed 
The system then and the system now continues to perpetrate 
A class of low income and disenfranchised who can never formulate 
A means to attain any kind of status or develop any wealth
Living in substandard conditions which affects their self worth
Oppressed, depressed and totally distressed 
Never to ever experience any form of progress 
And until there is progress for all there will be economic strife 
And until there is true equality there will be no peace in life 

We need to address the ideology that systemically demonizes 
And remember America was founded with violence and needs to realize 
That African Americans will no longer sit quietly 
and see our people be killed everyday 
No justice, no peace and we will have our say
We are all children of the most high God
He loves us all and has us in His heart 
You are no better than me and I'm no better than you 
And the color of our skin doesn't make that less true 

Dear America I hope you come to comprehend and understand 
That all lives do matter be you a Caucasian or a Black man 
Dear America we need to be like Jesus and have true compassion 
With a desire to make positive change its time to take action 
Dear America I need you to open your eyes and truly see
That there is no more plantation occupancy 
Black Americans are now educated and many economically sound 
We are no longer your property so stop trying to tear us down
We are more than conquerors we are survivors 
and we claim the victory 
Its time for you to let go of that slave owner mentality

Still Counting

And when it ends suddenly, unexpectedly,
You start to count.
First on the days, then the hours - then
Just counting until 100
Then
Beginning            again.

The dead find their faces
The living count faces
                Then most forget
Unless the face has your DNA in it,

But you remember the body bags
Being moved around in the night,
The nurses crying,
The lies being spread,
              The excuses,
The obfuscation,
The blundering incompetence
Of bureaucracy and officialdom.
The elderly kept in deathcamps
that used to be nursing homes.
The grinning mayors
                          And governors.

It’s going away now.
Less and less each day.
It’s going away now
It’s going to a place
Where the living cannot find it
                  It’s going away now.

And suddenly you are very angry
About the stupid shut-ins and the shut-downs,
The politicization of tragedy.
The muddled and slanted statistics
The ridiculous projections,
The false data.
The contradictions and bluster.
The draconian regulatory and government
Sponsored power grabs.
The gagging and intimidation
Of workers.
The trashing of basic freedoms
People
Jailed,
Fined,
Harassed.
The banning's.
The right to collectively worship denied,
Peaceful protest denied.
Businesses forced into bankruptcy.
The unemployment
      The waste.
And destruction.
The sundering of families,
The needless school closures,
The suffering that led
To clinical depression and drug overdoses,
The disdain of those
Who rejected commonsense remedies.
The manipulations
              And machinations,
All the willing useful fools
Chorusing together to tread down
Democracy.
The grinning talking heads
      Who doctored the news.
The attacks and the cancelling
Of those who begged to differ.
Dissenters labeled conspiracy theorists.
The cover-ups:
Gain of function.
GAIN OF FUNCTION.

The dumb mantra of the ignorant
Demanding we 'follow the science'
But the science was wrong
The scientists lied
They lied.
  They all knew
                  AND THEY LIED!

And I am still counting
In case it returns
And I have a lot more things to count,
Lots more to tally and be made
ACCOUNTABLE.

A Call To Solidarity

There is us and them, but we must learn
Who is us and who is them ... whose blood is on the floor?
Whose illusions like shambled mansions burn?
No lack of compassion here makes the suffering of the poor,
Nor closed the factory doors. None can sell
The houses closed; it's living hell in the shrivelling mines
Forget the popular explaining, or go to hell;
Mark them who mark you with the beast's cold designs.

With their newspapers, and slick bias reports
They feed delusions, hate and lies. Deprived workers made
Into self-centered seekers. O divided cohorts,
We fall a silent wall. For devalued homes, full value is paid
Or leave them for shelters so banks can twice
More their income make: first the bailout, and then resale.
All our tax money for repayment would suffice
If the bailout was vouchered to us, no business would fail.

The people would pay bills, business prosper,
Employment continues, and markets grow stronger. It's all
The truth there is to spending. Tell me mother,
With children and no tomorrow; tell me father sucking gall;
Who hoard the dollars, who hoard the gold,
Where is all the money gone? Where is credit, where is loan?
Where is the pension toiled for in the cold?
Who still makes profit, who control the banks we use to own?

Where is your spring? Why do summer trees
Die? Where there is spring the ruinates are fruiting in bloom,
Change is really more than scent of the breeze;
Where is our spring, for so long, so long the shadow of doom.
Did we not save from our sweat and sacrifice?
Could they not keep trust in that alone? we paid for the keep
Of earnings gone. They with theoretical device
Took it all, took it all. Yet it is for the broken lives that I weep.

Do we for justice march or insular issues blown
Big on every newspaper page? Do call this charade diversion?
Then why are we duped if the trick is known?
Our congress is ourselves in the streets, bring there our vision
Let us march against them, let us now defeat
The prison makers, the medical hostage takers, the pretenders
And deceit. If it's time to die, die on your feet!
Not like cowards harassed, fearful, weak, we are mass warriors!
Form: Verse

Life of A Girl

A LIFE OF A GIRL

When she is in a mother's womb developing into a foetus , the phase she is unaware about that she is going to be born in this cruel world.
She is unaware that she will be betrayed and condemned in this evil world.
The day she comes out of the womb is the day when people started feeding , hating and seeing her with unexpectful eyes. She is judged from then onwards Oh! No A Girl Child , a new burden on the family. 
Slowly as the time passes by she turns into a mature girl. Then the most difficult phase of her life starts : Puberty. She gets a little shock that whats that blood coming out. Then onwards she is looked with suspicious eyes. Look ! She is wearing a short dress . Damn ! She is a ****. Omg ! She is with a boy.
Definitely she wuill ruin the reputation of her family. Don't go there , don't sit like that , don't go out, come back soon and that thing which hurts the most : "Be good, learn something because you will go to someone's else house."You are someone else's property.
And Yes apart from this she faces a number of circumstances . Those Rapes From Those Evils with a human body. She shouts , she is burt , she is molested , orally harassed but still the question is not the respect of the girl. 
It's about what the ing society will say.
It isn't about justice , it's about , What About the Family's Reputation ? 
Those ing bastards ruin the whole life of a girl and still live with full respect and with heads up.
But one who is questioned is the girl ?  
Definitely she must have wore a short dress , seduced the boy or may have invited them on her own for …..

Is it like this? Is this why a girl is born in this society ? I this for what Godessess are preached ? Is this for what their parents raised them with so much love ? Is this what every girl would face further ?

When would that day will come when this freaking molestation , rape & injustice will end . The day when a girl can freely go out at night. The day when she will be free to live her own life . 
                                                                                               ~ Krishika

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