Long Honest Poems
Long Honest Poems. Below are the most popular long Honest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Honest poems by poem length and keyword.
Written: October 02, 2023 For Robert James Liguori Contest
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Fervent mishaps start life's biggest wins.
The first crocus shrieks and grins.
A bird's song caused snowflakes to bloom.
Pink, peach, and gold hues in the sky loom.
A fib said once might have afar-reaching effects.
Even as there's time for the truth to tie its elects,
I once took a pathless route to a sluggish win.
Suitable people can clash with the truth within.
Appearances may mislead, and secrets may hide.
A brave and savvy tale, hiding an enigma inside.
Cross rivers and lofty hilltops to find the truth.
Seeking truth amid a world of lies and sleuth
Aged tale as Eden Tree, vernal as a raw tooth
Men grasp lip-thatch form, art, and truth.
Erstwhile, tales, and fables tell.
Truth, rising from the depths of its well.
Authenticity faces life's storms defenseless.
Yet slyness stays sealed to strife senseless.
Justice and fairness ensure all are rated fairly.
Dark deceit and evil send spun wiles sparsely.
Be brave—the liar is a coward and a slave.
Sneaky, skilled at scams and lies, awful knave.
Being honest is punter than money and status.
Stick to the truth, relish light, do not tend to fuss.
Righteousness is power; truth must prevail.
True bravery for an hour typically will avail.
Under any disaster, selfish wails yield no gain.
Inspire with grit and firm will, not always pain.
Should the darkness come to you
where would the light shine through?
The waters are mere muddied sleuths
with lies stacked higher than any truths.
The Government rule has so much to hide
and the honest citizen is lost in the rampant tide.
Orwells 1984 comes a little late in the game
everything plays out in secrets of another name.
The darkness clutters any release
of what was once the land of democracy.
In shame I blush
as secrets lie in the hush.
Can the darkness be more dark
then Washington's blemished mark?
Leonard Cohen;s
You Want It Darker
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0nmHymgM7Y
My footsteps echoed the echoes of Time
as through the streets of Salem I walked.
The hour was early and the city still asleep
with only a cat sitting quietly on a cold granite sill,
the sky slowly turning from night into dawn,
my mind still in twilight as my footsteps echoed on.
The Ropes Mansion looked proud
as I strolled Essex Street,
its pediments and roof balustrades all stately,
its fence posts freshly painted
and hydrangea all in bloom.
I faintly heard voices
of a long-ago family
gathered about the hearth
in its fine parlor room.
I passed the Athenaeum
and hailed this library noble, so renowned
its soaring columns and arched doorway
have welcomed countless seekers of knowledge
and those sharing the wisdom of learning
and the comfort of reading from volumes well-bound.
Ten generations of Pickerings
have lived in the 1660 house
situated on 18 Broad.
A descendant, Timothy Pickering
under George Washington had served
and witnessed the surrender of Cornwallis’ sword.
I admired the house’s gables, its unique fence and its posts
then journeyed along to find more of Olde Salem’s ghosts.
At the Broad Street Cemetery
just steps across the street
I tipped my hat to those
who once lived here
now in honest sleep
at the second oldest resting place
in Salem Town.
But I shook my head over the grave
of High Sheriff Corwin of the Witchcraft Trial
beneath his time-weathered obelisk
he must be tossing for all Eternity
in his dank unholy ground.
For the true ghosts of Olde Salem
haunt the air of Proctor’s Ledge
where 19 innocents all
swung in the 1692 breeze
and it was there at the edge
of this hillside they died
overlooking a town
where too many had been tried.
How real was their torture
how sad was their pain
and in their lonely silence
do they relive it all again?
And when it all was over,
all said and all done
Salem would feel cursed
for its unforgivable deeds
that could not be undone,
for as I walk the streets
of Olde Salem
in the still-early morn,
I see their spirits all around me
along these sidewalks old and worn.
Copyright 2020 Gregory Joseph Firlotte
“What you see is what you get” is cliché,
and not so interesting or so profound.
But ask me who I am, I have to say
that’s one cliché that I can’t get around!
With all my friends I’m honest and I’m real.
I love to write, to laugh and just have fun.
The things I love to do, I do with zeal.
A summer girl am I, bright like the sun!
From marriage and the kids - to empty nest,
I’ve met with trials and let go some dreams.
Religion taught me life here is a test.
But one thing changed in me, for now it seems
I worry less about the things I “should”
be doing. Have I changed for bad or good?
For Laura Loo's Any Poem Written On April 4 2016 Poetry Contest
Wish it was a better one!!!
Written April 3, 2016 for the Who ARE you? Poetry Contest of Catie Lindsey
Because for my disability there is no magic fix
So in the dead of night when the clock strikes midnight
I lean back slowly in my desk chair and I stare into the darkness
And sometimes I just close my eyes and imagine I'm someone else
Because I'm in so much pain it honestly makes me sick
And the idea of death used to terrify me to the point of being sleepless
But now it just seems like sweet relief if I'm being honest
But it's not like I would ever kill myself or anything
Truth be told this isn't really a poem it's a revelation
This is what I deal with every single day
There are times I honestly feel really good about myself
But those days are truly few and far between
And this piece of paper is the only place I have the courage
To spill my soul in a manner such as this
Because I have never felt like I was worth anyone's time
A lazy eye, anxiety, and no self confidence are my dearest friends
And as I sit here in this chair and reflect my emotions have run dry
Just like my cheeks have finally run dry as the tears ceased
I guess 28 years of feeling inferior is really hard to overcome
And I totally understand there are people who have it worse
I feel empathy for everyone suffering their own private battles
But my experience is uniquely mine, their experience is uniquely theirs
So I don't feel whataboutism has any place in this discussion
When I began this poem I had no idea where it would even go
For once I just wanted to write out my conflict without pretty words
I wanted this message to be as simple and direct as possible
That every time you look in my eyes you can't fathom the agony hidden
But if you know someone with an affliction like mine or any kind
Please just give them a hug and tell them they really matter
Because it might not seem like they need it but they really do
Or maybe it's just me and I can't really speak for anyone
I just know I can't be the only one alone in their room at midnight crying
Because they haven't lived a single day feeling normal
I guess in the end I want to reach out to those just as fractured as me
So that together we can finally be whole again
When the clock finally strikes midnight
(Free Verse)
Always keep God and family foremost in life
Welcome each person you meet, as a possible friend.
Dance away to the music, of our wonderful world,
And sing along to brighten the chores of a new day.
Take time to dream new dreams, each glorious day.
Remember always to say "I Love You" every chance you have,
And remember to forgive anyone who has wronged you in any way.
Love like there's no tomorrow and be loved the same way,
Aim to bring more joy, minus pain, to anyone that you know.
You must always be honest and true to yourself, first.
Always try and try and never for any reason give up,
Remember, that you're just human, and as such, imperfect and flawed.
Spend some of your time, on bended knees giving thanks to the Lord,
And take pride in anything you've achieved in your life...
Remember to smile and take some time out of your busy life,
And smell all the roses you encounter on your way out.
Hug your family and all your friends in the daily basis too.
And take a little time to rest and to dream of only your Love.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka Ladydp2000
copyright@2001
December,10,2014
I realise, well I have known, for some time,
that I am just surviving, not enjoying.
Not living life but rather scraping my knuckles along the floor.
My only goal to make it through the day,
to get from one to the next, bonus if I get an hours rest.
And oh, how I am tired of living this way – but I know no different.
My mask is coming loose – my demons are starting to show.
How long have I kept this excuse of an existence,
carried on despite the agony, through the pain?
I pray God will heal me one day, one day I shall be baptised.
I know, in my heart, it is the only thing that could absolve such self loathing,
pain, guilt, shame, disease – these my daily strife.
But I need to take the first step to heal myself,
be honest – remove the mask – give myself a chance.
'For seek and you shall find, knock and the door shall be opened unto you.'
Never have these words rung more true.
05.02.2021
Dogs are honest.
In other words they don’t lie.
And so you can learn a lot from them.
Humans on the other hand
Are great deceivers and disseminators
In the cause of self interest.
Dogs like self interest too of course
But it’s always a lot more obvious and simple.
Humans more often than not couch
Their self interest in kindness.
There’s a big difference there you know
Honesty being simply what it is
And kindness being up for question
And interpretation,
And so way more superficial.
I like kindness, in fact I habitually do it,
But I like honesty more.
And that’s why I tend to love and trust dogs
More than most of humanity.
Maybe that’s a sad state of affairs
But I don’t think I’m alone.
(10/25/25)
Poetry Soup Hero's
Poets with golden ink and pens
You make us move forward with your inspiration
With kind an honest, encouragement and compliments
Small act of caring all which has the potential to turn a life around
Peter Duggan
Vera Duggan
Michael Tor
Demetrios Trifiatis
Broken Wings
Andrea Dietrich
Carrie Richards
nette onclaud
JAN ALLISON
boddie, eric
John Wulf
Sandra Haight
Casarah Nance
Emile Pinet
John lawless
Abdul Malik
Julia Ward
Kim Patrice Nunez
Olive Eloisa Guillermo
hunjeri, njeri
Anne Lise Andresen
Dr. Upma A. Sharma
Ian Guyler
Mystic Rose
Tim Ryerson
arthur vaso
Paul Callus
Frederic Parker
Keith Trestrail
Richard Lamoureux
SEREN ROBERTS
Joseph May
Robert Stoner Jr
Silent One
Laura Leiser
Faye Gibson
Viv Wigley
Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
Lycia Harding
Bev Smith
Tim Smith
Poet Destroyer A
Janice Canerdy
Robert L. Hinshaw
Teddy Kimathi
Kim Merryman
Thabang Ngoma
Connie Marcum Wong
FJ Thomas
Judy Konos
Sneha RV The literature lover
James Inman
Sara Kendrick
Eileen Manassian
Adam Hunter
Bill Lindsay
george seal
Barbara Campbell
Kelly Deschler
Robert Lindley
Carol Eastman
David Fisher
Barbara Gorelick
The Grahamburglar
Shadow Hamilton
david mohn
Pandita Sanchez
Isaiah Zerbst
Balveen Cheema
peter holmes
SKAT A
len carber
Warner Baxter
Darlene Gifford
CayCay Jennings
Deb Wilson
Alexis Y.
Jerry T Curtis
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James Fraser
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Debbie Guzzi
craig cornish
harry horsman
Ruben O.
Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
Mohamed Adel
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olusegun Arowolo
Edwin Hofert
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john beharry
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michael tor
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Phool, Maharani
Johnson, Megan
Graves, Allan
Ngo, Meline
Ramos, Tiffany
Rosenthal, Allie
Borghei, Niki
Tripp, Criss
Reyes, Thomas
Rajaratnam, Gunadevi
Braxton, Shanda
Barry, Stephen
Prophet, James
Titus, Luwi
Leach, Michele
LeBlanc, Michelle
maximax, nicole
Kwinana, Ndikho
Turse, Patricia
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Brown, Verna
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Eve T.M.M.
Lin Lane
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Not For Contest
This wheelchair
I can't stand to ride
I’m not that naïve
I’m just out to find
The better part of me
I’m more than a burden
I’m more than a strain
More than some smiling face
Smiling at you so plain
And it is not easy to be me
Wish that I could cry
Fall upon my knees
Find a way to lie
About a home
I never see
It may sound absurd
But don’t be naïve
Even with cerebral palsy
I have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed
But once you can see
Even with cerebral palsy
I have a right to dream
And it is not easy to be me
Don’t run away from me
Well it’s all right
You can all sleep sound tonight
I’m not crazy or anything
I can stand to ride
I’m not that naïve
Men were not meant
To ride with ground
Between their knees
I’m only a man
Don’t be silly
To perceive me a kid
Taken for granted
On ignorance’s
One way street
Only a man
With a wife and three kids
Looking for smashing things
Inside of me
I’m only a man
With cerebral palsy
I’m only a man
Looking for a dream
I’m only a man
Being honest on this sheet
And it is not easy to be me…