Long Humiliation Poems
Long Humiliation Poems. Below are the most popular long Humiliation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Humiliation poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh, I’d rush to my create my rainbow without haste.
With each sun blessed color, having its own, unique taste!
Only of the delicious flavors, that this poetess deem best.
Tantalizing, with a full-bodied, fruitful and fresh zest.
I would make the rainbow into an astounding, colorful slide,
And invite those I love, to join me in a most, unusual ride.
We would be proud to speak of God~without humiliation.
And how great this country is, with no fear of intimidation!
Inevitably, I will color it, the famous red, white and blue.
Being unabashedly patriotic, with joy and gratitude, too!
10/21/2024
'Father, forgive them,
For they know not what they do"
I breath out from up on my own cross
Feeling the humiliation and shame
The jeering mocking throng
Those who think they know
What is behind my acts
My words
Who THINK they know
What is in my nature
My heart
Who misconstrue
And abuse
Self-righteous and smug
Who have shouted, “Crucify!”
And driven in the nails
With sanctimonious sighs
And turn a blind eye
To acts of kindness
To the compassion I have shown
Even that they try to taint
With their growing hate
Not knowing, not understanding
The pain I feel for the rejected
For I am rejected too
Even though I bear the truth
Trying to set others free
From their demons of the past
"Father, they cannot see
What is in me!"
"Father, forgive them
They don’t know what they do
I will not confess
To anyone by YOU
You are my father
My judge
The Master of all that was, is and will be
You know my heart
I’m your child
Here on the cross
Having become sin
I hang
Hurt
Bleeding
In pain
From those who question...
My spirituality
My identity
Claiming I’m not who I say that I am
A fake
You cover your face
In my hour of shame
For I have become sin
And you must let me face it..ALONE
That is the greater pain
Father, forgive them
They do not have hearts to feel
Nor minds to discern
Eyes to see
The truth in me
The truth behind my words
They twist and turn
Casting the spear in my side
To make sure I’m dead…..
Forgive them
And give me the strength
For forgive them as well
So that I may taste
The newness of life that awaits
Beyond the shadow of the grave
Resurrection of my soul
Father, Father....forgive"...
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Candy, roses, and presents are a thing of the past.
True love, devotion and vows never did last.
Anger, hurt, humiliation, infidelity and pain:
what once was love that is all that remains.
Love, honor and trust were given to him.
He used her up after she went out on a limb.
There's nothing more of her for him to take.
She fell in love with a man that's a fake.
Even his family was full of lies.
No one to help or hear her cries.
He left her broke with nothing, alone.
Is this the behavior a Christian would condone?
God fearing people are what they portray.
Wolves in sheep's clothing is what they'll stay.
In an ill-advised decision,
Educationally dumb,
New York City’s ranked its teachers,
Which defies the rule of thumb.
For the whole world now has access
To the way each teacher scored,
Though I thought humiliation
Was a means to be deplored.
Only math and English teachers
Bear the brunt of this new rule,
Which eliminates most pedagogues
Who work in every school.
What’s the basis of the rankings?
Well, it’s simple yet pathetic –
Results of standard city tests,
Supposedly prophetic.
A teacher may be patient, smart,
Creative or exciting;
She may inspire thinking minds
Or brilliant bursts of writing.
But all of that won’t mean a thing
If students’ scores are flat;
‘Cause politicians are convinced
Exams are where it’s at.
It doesn’t matter if the kids
Have problems or are poor;
The teacher is the one at fault
When there’s a sub-par score.
And now the public has the chance
To check each teacher’s name;
A ranking near the bottom means
They know just who to blame.
My question to the city is,
For teachers who scored low,
If branding them on websites
Is the proper way to go.
For people are so quick to judge
When labels are applied.
I know I’d feel like Hester Prynne,
With no place safe to hide.
Like educators everywhere,
I’m shocked, appalled, dismayed.
To those in charge who pushed this through,
You get a failing grade!
It arrives without warning and others can't see
It wears out its welcome immediately
An evil spirit, sent from the Devil for sure
Not an trace of compassion, not a chance of a cure
It swallows my body without my consent
It's derived of nothing, but poisonous intent
It's wicked and potent, its persistence, hard core
A thorn lodged in my side, an invisible sore
It's that pain in my heart that can't be explained
Saddened and fatigued, physically drained
Commonly diagnosed as lazy or rude
To avoid humiliation, I tend to allude
So I awaken exhausted yet toss and turn all night
Just surviving the day is my most difficult fight
Occasionally it will loosen its grip on my soul
For a moment I am calm and mentally whole
Just as I begin to settle and gain my strength back
That's when it returns for a surprise attack
As my youth goes yonder her beauty says to me yet, bet, yea,
in my mouth the word beautiful becomes a flavor of valor,
she likes to whisper moments of sad love & tender tragedy
into the ears of quiet poets as they trace the perfection of the Present
with quills dipped in the tails of comets destin for drama,
as you walk wantonly along trails her melody invites
she'll scorn with a question of why are you here with her
then the nails she sharpens with teeth of nurture
will attach One to a cross of commitment, a relic of costly consumption,
because she must have you
as a shadow must have a soul to follow
within the humiliation of Light,
as an owl finds comfort in the concealment of night,
so subtle in admission of affection
although profuse in protection of the Ones she charms,
sensitivity she cannot escape, always hurting to be an angel,
born to be a Princess with feet in mud and eyes on the stars,
deserving dreams of diamonds cast on diadems
while living to endure harsh humanity
an adequate lover her timeframe will accept,
quotes from adolescence she repeats romanticaly,
'Love me in the heat, love me on the ice,
defend me from the cheat, define me despite the price',
alone in her desire I am the champion of her fire -
J.A.B.
These are the unredeemed
Unredeemed and unrelieved
In their souls in pain
Trapped in cycles without end
In many a violent place they spend
Unbearable time in mindless space insane
Sinning badly which no repentance
Prayers have freed
Nor opened a crack
In their selfish flow of greed
Darkness and humiliation cover
Every suffering creature over.
And in the black dusty dirt
Of the cemetery’s earth
Of every stupid town and city
There is a raging spirit of death
Remaining smiling and mute
Without compassion or pity
Returning from this land of dead
Dead again dead again
Where we found these lost
Empty sacks of human flesh
With hearts still beating but unfeeling
In the frozen bone white of winter’s frost
From an eternal winter of unknowing
The embers and fires of human love
In these valleys of earth
Are quenched by numbing
Social blizzards of hate
And civil indifference.
In desert sands their skeletal shells
Ambulate towards prepared graves
And faces of shifting suspicious stares
Pierce down unconscious of other’s cares
Falling raw into the rough trenches unsaved
Filled to overflowing with unredeemed blood
Surely these are the damned
Living in merciless mental swamps
With shoes soaked in dog excrement
And streets strewn with cigarette butts
A land haunted by roaming demons
In obedience to masters of rage and ignorance.
And the rare and precious and glorious
In the natural world of righteousness
Is left abandoned
Forever outside in a frozen wasteland
Of a world cursing God and His creation
And confirming forever a commitment to evil
Feeling “O how awful goodness is “
Away, away out of this madness
Fly us back, back into the brilliance
Of the precious and the glorious
Of the present Earthly Paradise
Hidden from view but always His
Concealed beneath a fig leaf,
Nakedness of more than body
Nakedness of heart and soul
Nakedness of darkened thought
Nakedness of the sinful doubt
Nakedness of screaming pain
They weren’t prepared,
When they bit into the fruit…
For the fear that could consume
They weren’t ready,
When they finally knew…
Evil was there where they lived
Sin was a heart wrenching
Penetrating dread, in the shadows
Where dusk fell against smooth skin
In whispers of silhouettes broken
Dreams riding the seas
The depths of hopelessness
Raining down shame
Humiliation and disgrace
Degradation that feeds on
The fig leaf we hold onto
As we struggle to cover up
Sins that are as black
As the night, only more appalling
More frightening
Secreted beneath a fig leaf,
Vulnerable and exposed
To the starkness of shame
The stubbornness of pride
The sinfulness that stirs minds
To listen to the fear, the dread
The naked ache that screams
For hearts to break
It is only a fig leaf
Covering the sin
Until God whispers grace
Across the naked stain
Reminding the heart
He died to reconcile us
To Him, the beginning and end
This or That, Vol 11 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
April 1, 2022
Title Chosen: Fig Leaf
They say action speaks louder than words.
Europe proved it.
America proved it.
Yet you still chase them
like lost children chasing shadows.
They told you Europe is Heaven.
A lie wrapped in steel and snow.
A dream sold to the desperate,
priced in humiliation.
You know the truth.
Africans are not wanted there.
They hide it in laws,
in borders,
in silence—
but the hatred is loud.
Do not blame the Europeans
for stealing your money
with their wicked tricks,
their non-refundable fees,
their daylight robbery.
Blame your desperation.
Your hunger for illusions.
Europe was built
on stolen resources.
On your gold.
Your labour.
Your broken backs.
Without Africa,
Europe is an empty museum
with cold hands and colder hearts.
Why do you worship them?
When it is you
who feeds them?
They hate you
because you hate yourselves.
Respect begins at home.
There is nothing divine about Europe.
You can build a Europe in Africa.
You can rise,
if you stop kneeling.
Their visa system is a scam.
A trap for the poor.
A tax on your dignity.
Theft disguised as process.
Policy soaked in contempt.
And you,
African leaders—
senseless, careless,
allowing your people
to run away
from the soil
that could feed them.
Europe is a time bomb.
A land cracking under its own sins.
Yet you flee toward it
as if salvation lives in winter.
Look within.
Love your continent.
Honour your soil.
When Africa awakens,
the slave becomes the master
in the blink of an eye.
They made you hate yourselves.
Because a broken spirit
builds nothing.
Creates nothing.
Demands nothing.
Remember—
Europe came to Africa uninvited.
Not for exploration,
but for survival.
Because poverty lived in their bones.
They come here easily.
But make it impossible
for you to go there.
Only a fool walks into a house
where he is not wanted.
Stay home.
Build home.
Rise at home.
And let Europe knock
for a change.
Only then
will they respect you.
I call her Ms. H
because names are easier
than saying—
I was too much.
Too soon.
Too wrong.
She isn’t loud.
She doesn’t speak.
She waits—
in the gap
between what I gave
and what you didn’t take.
Ms. H isn’t you
laughing at me.
She’s the one who dusts me off
when I offer my
beating heart—
just for you to
forget it on your way out.
She’s the one who sits with me
after you left,
and we sit quietly as the heart
slowly
stops
beating.
She’s always there,
just outside the light.
Her raven pupils so clear
they reflect my entire life—
and say,
Look. That was you.
I don’t want to look.
But I do.
And I stay.
_________________
Note:
Written on June 5th, 2025
Contest Title: Pick-A-Title, Vol 52 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh