Long Harsh Poems
Long Harsh Poems. Below are the most popular long Harsh by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Harsh poems by poem length and keyword.
The overwhelming noise of the world
lands on hardened ears that have learned to ignore,
tune out, and selectively seek out the tones that are pleasing
and bring solace to their tired drums
Like the sweet silence of the night,
the chirping of a lone cricket in the night,
the low croaking of the bullfrog,
a coyote's drawn out howl across the night sky
Sweet silence fills the air
soothes the soul
giving it time to recover
from the harsh discords that fill the day
easing the fears that well up inside
and threaten to wipe out my identity
Silence is a sweet surrender,
to the longing inside to be free,
wild as the hummingbird on the breeze.
Little black pearl
Formed from city grit.
Pressurized by violence.
Layers of scars-a survivor.
There were no birds or trees.
Only concrete eggs in broken nests.
Harsh decades under moonlit gunplay.
Never time for a young mind to rest.
So hard escaping from dark, ugly caves.
Finally, you've arrived, rolling into the light.
Not a mirage but something of a miracle.
At the very top of your class, nobody held your hand.
Tassel merrily dancing to the left of a black pearl face.
Smiling a shade beyond bright.
For the moment, color is insignificant.
There's still much work to be done.
Many more hurdles-mostly unseen.
Battles lost, and battles won.
But nothing that you can't overcome.
Wearing bright feathers of a dream.
Little Black Pearl
In the dream of others, I struggle like a leaf carried by unknown winds,
Caught in a web of desires and expectations not my own, my soul a voiceless prisoner,
I navigate illusions, a shadow lost in a maze of borrowed dreams,
And wonder, with each step, how much of me remains, how much is lost in the abyss.
Like a river carving its path through darkened valleys, so flow my thoughts, restless and murky,
Seeking the true essence of myself, buried beneath layers of conformity,
Three-fourths of me have dissolved into the ocean of others' expectations,
And I am left with but a fragment, a pale flicker of what I could have been, of what I am.
In the mirror of time, I see distorted reflections of my self,
Faces that are not my own, gestures that feel foreign, all dancing to the rhythm imposed by the world,
I am an actor on a stage without a curtain, playing roles written by unknown hands,
And I wonder if I shall ever claim my own script, my own destiny.
In nights that stretch long, when the moon casts its silver glow upon slumbering dreams,
I hear distant whispers, calling me to reclaim my lost self,
But the dawn brings with it the familiar masks, and once again I am lost in the dance of puppets,
Caught between the desire to be myself and the fear of disappointing.
I break myself into pieces, offering fragments of me to the world,
Three-fourths of my essence melds into the mold of conformity,
And I am left with but a fraction, a mere shadow of my unfulfilled potential,
An unfinished symphony, a dream shattered into a thousand pieces.
In the silence of the night, I dream of liberation,
Of the moment when I shall break the chains of others' dreams,
When I shall reclaim the three-fourths lost of my being,
And dance, finally, to the rhythm of my own heart.
But morning comes, and with it, the harsh reality,
That I am still ensnared in the web of foreign dreams,
A butterfly with wings glued to the spider's web of conformity,
Struggling to take flight, yet too weak to break free.
And yet, deep within me, a spark of hope still flickers,
That one day I shall find the courage to be myself,
To reclaim my lost essence and live my own dream,
Freed, at last, from the captivity of others' desires.
Shawn was a sensitive boy; whose feelings were on the edge.
He tried to hide them under a harsh exterior.
Under tattoos and piercings.
Those of us who knew him saw his softness.
It was impossible to not see his sweetness.
He was teased and bullied by some at school.
He did not speak of it, wanting to keep his parents safe from it.
Not wanting them to feel badly.
This is the kind of boy he was.
Selfless and giving.
The art teacher was his worst critic.
He poked fun of his work and put it down.
Horrifying the rest of the class.
Shawn could never do anything right in art class.
And cartooning was his favorite thing to do, so he did it at home.
In the privacy of his own home
Where he took too many pills
And went to sleep
Escaping his insensitive idiotic art teacher
Who was the worst bully of all.
Captivated and compelled to find my little friend,
who has broken out in song again.
Sitting on the window ledge,
he stretches his neck as he tilts his head.
Releasing a group of compact and purposeful notes,
I gaze blissfully upon his silken, iridescent cloak.
Feathers...
Fashioned and fitted
and plucked to perfection,
he begins to sing this mornings delightful rendition.
I am wondering what makes my little friend sing out like this today ?
What meaning is his melody trying to convey ?
....The morning’s announcements ?
Meant to guard the others in his little band, against the peril at hand.
A few of his ravenous neighbors are on the prowl,
scouring and scouting his surrounding acres now...Be on watch !
BEWARE !
Or is it a pledge of noble chivalry, his love songs sweet endowments of fidelity.
Could it be a gleeful ode of expression, my excited little friends’
personal impressions of Mother Natures morning menu ?...
Is he calling to his brethren so they can begin sampling too ?
Could he be pronouncing and proclaiming the virtues of his simple existence ?
Or, perhaps, instead,
he is voicing his frustrations,
with winters harsh weather,
as it transitions,
into springs bountiful splendor.
I dare not ask as I linger there, in quite admiration
appreciating my little friends melodic and heartfelt song.
Charmed and besotted by him, I am taken unawares.
The song sung by one has turned into TWO !
They sing together,
ever so sweetly now,
as a pair.
Jesus came to save us
and will return to earth unexpectedly
to estabilish an everlasting kingdom,
stronger than the rocks of the mountains,
which nobdy is caple of destroying...not
even Satan,with all his power,can try!
Jesus once came to bring us together as
many obeying children under one family;
He'll gather all under His throne
to make us perfect and holy:
we'll have new bodies and minds without pain,
and we will glorify Him eternally!
Jesus will reappear to open his pierced palms
and say to the silent crowds
"Come and eat at the table of my kingdom
with the holy prophets and saints;
come and share with them the pure love,
joy,peace and happiness that my father offers!"
Jesus's gospel is about kindness,
like imitating the very little ones...
if we are to enter the gates of his kingdom
and He joyfully tells us,
"Love like them and learn from them,
but don't harm or corrupt them...
because my judgement will be very harsh;
choose life to uphold fairness and justice!
Jesus hears the prayers that we utter
when we go through hardships and unbearable days,
and He will grant only those that are sincere and truthful;
Jesus seeks good hearts to dispel their fears,
to console them when they don't choose the ways of the world...
to suffer much,but never to give up to despair!
My poetry’s heart, pumped by grace
Breathes out God’s love of mercy’s trace
Certainties divinely assure
Amidst challenges’ harsh pressure
Expressed by verse and rhymes of praise.*
Throbbing with truths along life’s race
Flowing through veins of faith-embrace
Revealed in grand stanzas’ pleasure…
My poetry’s heart.
Realities --- feelings appraise
Though afflictions dare to erase
Revival assertions’ treasure
Surpassing syllable-measure
Empowering gratitude brace…
My poetry’s heart.
*Psalm 86:12 I will praise thee, O Lord my God, with all my heart: and I will glorify thy name for evermore.
July 30, 2019
2nd place, "All About Poetry Rondeau" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Charles Messina; judged on 8/4/2019.
No Stopping The Carousel Of Time!
The inescapable reality
consigning one at birth
automatically includes no breath
oblige premise, whereat
existence can terminate
with sudden,
and untimely inexplicable death
cruel ploy wrought,
whence randomly begat
into this webbed wide world
grim reaper nonchalantly,
asper macabre Vaudevillian
character cane twirled
automatically infers
cessation of livingsocial
with no forewarning,
where nutty squirreled
memories become indelibly engraved
(photogravure) inherently
pervasive I apprise imperiled,
which ever present
unavoidable demise,
(albeit a bleak thought)
looms larger as orbitz
(demarcating sans initial debut),
each subsequent anniversary flies
faster as staying alive finds
every mortal getting
older, where guise,
which gloomy thought didst arise
with the windmills
of my mind particularly,
sans unwelcome thought,
when my person dies
came to mind, while subtle
diminution to exercise
asthma body, mind, and spirit
approaches sixth decade (come
January 13th, 2019),
the harsh reality lies
within this cognitive,
intuitive, and fully
still operative flesh and bone
aware of becoming deceased
increases in direct proportion
as another year done
and all to quickly, irrevocably gone,
when deplorably belatedly
late life self discover
re: visa vis hone
passion with words specially,
possibly, feasibly encrypted
while supinely prone
on deathbed with
onset of rigor mortis,
yet just barely
enough buffer'n strength
to etch said chicken scratchings,
hens forth before
mine unbeknownst cremation
whereat Facebook friends invited -
cost will be...ahem...
(no more than one rolling stone)
presently concludes any
subsequent poetic endeavors
shot thru with quasi morbid tone.
What happened to that little girl?
Whatever happened to that little girl?
The one that was carefree and happy?
It seems as though shes lost.
Swallowed by life and buried by the world.
Forced to grow up way to soon...
Left to fend in this crazy placed called home,
Forced to create a hardened shell
To protect the little she has left of herself.
Shes been broken.
Broken by hard words and harsh realities.
She searches for love under every rock,
Only to get hurt more and to become more fragile.
Life has been so cruel, shes stopped fighting back.
Scared, cold, alone.
Shes so lost...
Damaged and used...
She walks through her days with a blank stare.
She wishes she wasnt there.
Why wont anyone help?
They see her walk away, pretending not to see anything.
Its easier to ignore it than to help.
She lies doelwn everyday and prays to never wake up.
The world is just too hard to take she was once a free spirit.
But now shes broken.
Maybe she will finally be free...
The day she is no longer here to be BROKEN.....
Looking back in retrospect
Previous owners were circumspect
Not meaning harsh disrespect
But years of neglect
And upkeep gone unchecked
Amount much to the domino effect
Our new architect
With his cryptic dialect
And superior intellect
Presents his bold new project
Structural troubles to correct
Existing building to protect
Proud addition to erect
For youthfulness to inject
Pride and strength to resurrect
And combat the greenhouse effect
The costs both direct and indirect
There for us to dissect and inspect
Several naysayers to deflect
Since from all we’ll have to collect
Because we know some will object
To grand illusions of prospect
Garnered benefits to expect
And resurgence of self-respect
To create a positive ripple effect
AP: Honorable Mention 2020