Long Hinders Poems
Long Hinders Poems. Below are the most popular long Hinders by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hinders poems by poem length and keyword.
No I shan’t succumb to wickedness in my rightful mind
Will only seek peace within, amongst with those whose kind
Though don’t forget I will protect all that is correct
Where truth is told to unfold riches of respect
No I shan’t succumb to evilness in my beating heart
Unless I’m sick, may turn a bit from goodness and depart
To something else I can’t foresee this ever will be true
For my maker is the only one I need to answer to
No I shan’t succumb to hurt and pain unnecessarily
Though try my best to love with zest unconditionally
Others so in turn they know all a better way
With kindness from my heart and mind shared without delay
No I shan’t succumb to anyone who hinders my good will
For choice is mine as human kind has potential still
To be the part from mind and heart so others will devour
Evil reeks and to the peaks only to de-power
No I shan’t succumb to anyone who plans to stall great things
There I'll laugh toward the face of what the nasty brings
For here we have one chance on Earth to only weave the right
To turn away from all the fools or even still to fight.
Rumi Quote "Doubt is a precipice on the way to God. Blessed is he who is freed from its bonds."
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Walking toward the edge, facing a gray sky,
Paradise magnificence is dazzling below.
Goals are shrouded amid dense, rimy snow,
Amid scarlet stones, serenading scary lullaby.
Mountain summits catch nascent sunbeams,
Time for either primal bitterness or delight.
Flagrantly feeling fearful of a factious fright,
Falls fully into the recess of sliced streams.
Positioned on the edge of annihilation,
I was looking into the distance of my mind.
I am seated and pensive, on muse behind,
Have I the resolve to move toward obligation?
Yeah, the road ahead is all thorny and broken,
So I'm trapped, admiring it from a distance.
However, I am unable to reverse my insistence,
for the route I've taken is empty and betoken.
I've no action as to dwell in confine of truth,
Observing dread and splendor of doubt.
Skilled in leaving to safety despite flout,
Wish to dive into the dimness, still in my youth.
Fear the ambiguous; it is nothing but dread,
If not brave enough to tackle a rough path.
As I felt anxious at this point, unfit to lath.
Still, what path can I decide to sail ahead?
Should I return to weird safety or leave?
Is the charm of the enigma alluring to me?
What can I do? not a clear path to foresee
Yet, such ways will always be a lie to weave.
But I must purport to persist on this precipice.
Hinders the impending gravity of genesis.
A Day in November
(Today’s Thoughts)
By: Miracle Man
11/14/2018
Not yet Thanksgiving and already, it’s snowing,
Wind from the north makes wind chill bitter.
Trees in our yard stand, nakedness showing,
Aground, their covering becomes natures litter.
I’ll blow, rake, and bag then leave to decay,
I’ve labored at gardening since I can remember.
I’ll mulch Peppers and Tomatoes giving most away,
Something to look forward to in mid November;
Sixteen degrees finds me not overly content,
For it hinders me from doing anything outside.
Health issues, my activities sometimes circumvent,
So I watch fake news from my recliner ringside.
Written: May 17, 2024
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Artistic portrayal of life events as a diorama
Fog hinders sight, and exertion leads to drama
Seek ease, apathy, evade attentive scrutiny
aging stems mindful swing, leading to mutiny
Noxious prates fit sullen peer or weary mind
facets of human life fetch fluid features blind
time flows faring, etching hearts echoing gaze
debate donning dated disdain diving graze
Ear muffs muffle noise span in swath space.
No opposition spark portrayed downcast chase.
Foster love-prone awareness, not rigged favors.
Grasping sky implies a whole heart-mind flavor.
Arcane quartz artists sculpt clay in amort crafts
ariose zeal to transcend wasteful calix daft
heart relies on two atria: chemo-electro-static.
capacious using cells that descry axons attic.
Desultory reactions rather than brazen mindset
Envious quest will reveal mindful heart reset
It will be illusion to eviscerate frivolous notion.
alternately, Inveigle grabbing a gaunt potion.
heart caterwaul mindful love could never fade.
wailing clangor appears dumb to mind, wade.
No corpulent knot withstand swiftness of time.
Adage," Time cures all scars" is sublime.
Athirst ambitions would awaken aureate love.
Soon, both of us will rise to celestial skies above.
Amid effusive brain deluge to turn heart-wise
Love endures eternally after lovers' demise.
Subtlety is the lexicon of exquisite mindfulness.
Kintsugi is a Japanese method of mending harm.
Another soul, another brilliance, another imperativeness.
Kings platter broke death, distress, and a phony delight!
In any case, there's gold and platinum dust here.
Avail Chinese polish tree saps to recuperate breaks
I can't discover repairing for my frail love.
Is anything but a special salve known than these?
I decided to assemble my demolished self, pieces and shreds.
Demolished photos from the garbage, I sorted them.
Smirched sheet, blurred shades soul contemplations remain.
Anxiety breaks the brain and hinders Kintsugi from aiding artwork.
A brilliant waterway of life might have the splendor you need.
As broken memories are recast, so does the clay.
Craft skill, gold trim, and heal the breaks in the earth is alive.
The words inspire trouble that strikes the spirit.
As recollections are restored, clay breaks retouch.
A bare soul, a wrecked heart, sorrow, and despair
Tears will recuperate your inward love and mental wounds.
Our spirits are bolstered when we love and care.
Written: August 14, 2021
quatrain with chain rhyme
The edge of the sunset dissolves
into the horizon. The day's candle
dies, yet fires light the sky once more;
once more, as rioters take patrol.
Dog days rattle with restless resolve -
darkness hinders the search for a handle
on the violence the rest of us abhor.
Some abhor the absence of control.
She hums lullabies to right the wrong.
Lady Liberty's torch still burns dimly
as citizens at home pray for peace.
Peace's torch battles hatred's hammer.
Mundane moments mimic the lady's song
with feral chants for "justice" so grimly
uttered by those paid to disable police,
police who serve despite cruel clamor.
September 21, 2020
dedicated to the memory of Kenneth Parrott
It flails, it wails, it weeps, it creeps, this feeling inside
The thoughts, the flaws, the confusion...it creeps, this feeling inside
The anger, the pain, the frustration, wrought deep within me
It creeps, this feeling inside
In vain it stays and tries to control me
In darkness it hinders itself in my light
Does it not know I have let go
Does it not see its useless bidding
In my sweet slumber it comes
Tries to remind me of the past
Does it think I will surrender in my sleepfulness
It flails, it wails, it creeps, it weeps,this feeling inside
Oh but I am free
It can no longer hold me
In it's crude iron bars
Not against this joy widening inside me
And the endless rays of my smiles
As it flails, wails, weeps, creeps
It fumbles, it weakens, it flounders, in drowns
In my sweet array of boundless joy
Because I am free
I smile at every morning's light
Form:
The loud rumbling, crashing sounds of thunder
woke me and I nestled into his breast.
A feeling of fearfulness creeps over,
as the flash of lighting hinders my rest.
Rising, he moves toward the closed window,
shutting the drapes. Blocking out the striking
flash, I hid my head under the pillow,
away from the sounds that are frightening.
He gently caressed me with reverence
and a gentle kiss, calming the storm of fear.
I looked up into his eyes in silence,
"I don't like being scared" and cuddled near.
The storm is over, calmness has set in,
and darkness no longer lingers deep within.
7/21/2017
Form S- Poetry Contest
Theme; Storm
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
I Will Help You
For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you. (Isaiah 41:13)
The Mother Sun no longer embraced me
No more adrenaline rush that motivates me to get up
Breakfast seems bland, faded colors of rotten apple
Unfurled window curtains is the angle that I see
Unheard thoughts of forks lying in the kitchen table
Deafening silence devours me, I am alone with this empty cup
Nostrils reminded me of reek of unlit cigarettes
Counting those days to reminisce about your existence
Comical drama is no longer my daily routine
Friction of emotions ignited thy mere silhouettes
Longing for your gentle touch before when I was your queen
Hear me universe, burn the wick of the candle to end this existence
Silhouettes at the wall is the angle of what I see
Longing for your gentle touch as you held me at your bicep
Unseen towering shadows into my doorstep
Series of dread and pain that hinders me to get up
Void of darkness devours me entirely,
I lost at the battlefield so I ended up not fighting
I hope you're well in that delicate paradise
Only the image of you, picturing this unbrewed coffee
“Precious in God’s sight is the death of His saints.”
The Bible says it with truth-might that never faints
Such assertion guards my soul from harm of doubt-taints…
Why should I fear death, pictured in beautiful paints?
In the midst of life, readiness for death whispers…
Calling for attention while existence prospers;
Faith in the Savior seals my eternal papers
Will I resist when carried by angel-reapers?
Life then must be optimized meaningfully well…
The Lord’s grace quenches thirst in the deathbed of hell;
With trust in God’s assurance as grand music bell
What hinders me to witness, and His Gospel tell?
Living fully for God along others’ good gain
Is now preparing me from death’s selfish stain
With love smiting melancholy of hatred’s pain…
Where is the sting of death* against the Lord’s reign?
*1Corinthians 15:56 The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law.
May 17, 2018
8th place, "A Poem about Death Poetry Contest"
Sponsored by Broken Wings; judged on 5/18/2018.
Theme: “In the Midst of Life”