Long Hurting Poems
Long Hurting Poems. Below are the most popular long Hurting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hurting poems by poem length and keyword.
Dear God:
You know the thoughts of every man,
You have declared your righteousness upon this land,
And you have shown your judgment to everyone.
How long shall I live in despair?
With shattered hopes and broken dreams,
how long shall I stand in the midst of this land?
Stretching out my empty hands.
You have great powers,
Holding court above the earth,
It is not my place to question thee,
but when will you set me free?
Day and night they dwell in my house,
feasting upon my tired flesh,
my strength sometimes fail,
and there is no room to exhale.
I am nothing in your presence,
I am hurting because of them,
save me from their murderous threat,
least my eyes behold the power of death.
I know that you have the answer,
Show me your divine power,
Put my oppressors to shame,
And give me the strength to rise again.
©2013 Christine Phillips
Honestly lately, there is too much going on
Hurting everyone by those who choose to be a con
There’s too much going on, in so many ways
Weighing on people’s hearts all of these days
Breaking us down, worrying minds, splintering souls
Finding emptiness as the normalcy goes
All wrapped up in this turmoil that rolls
I can say, roll with the punches, but that’s not easy to do
We must face truth, unite and love each other too
We must keep our minds on pleasant things around as well
And be grateful for whatever we have, wherever we dwell
We must have patience with our daily routine
And of course avoid those acting out being mean
Where the light shines, is your place to relish
Never stop hoping and hold onto every single wish
In these times, there is certainly too much going on
But this day we have to live is ours to depend upon
And this day is your day to live, breathe, your day to be
All that makes you who you are, with happiness for others to see
Heidi Sands
5/26/22
We were the epitome of love's pure flame,
Where love wasn't an option, but the very essence of our frame.
We walked side by side, two love birds entwined,
Our hearts beating as one, our love forever aligned.
Everything was alright, I don't want to lie,
But now, I'm left to wonder, why the change in the sky.
Can we look back and see the way we used to be?
Bathing together, under the same melody.
We'd play our favorite song, and our love would resound,
In each other's eyes, our hearts would be found.
We were best friends, partners in every sense,
Together forever, our love would make its own defense.
Morning kisses, whispered sweet nothings, and prayers at night,
Our love was deep, our feelings, a precious, sacred light.
In bed, we'd hold each other tight,
Our love, a flame that burned, day and endless night.
But now, we're like strangers, living worlds apart,
Two people, once so close, now barely a spark in the heart.
I wish we could turn back the clock, and be what we used to be,
When love was new, and our hearts were free.
We'd make jokes, and laugh until our sides would ache,
Our dreams of marriage, and kids who'd run and play, at stake.
We were the king and queen of each other's hearts,
But a bad wind blew, and our love fell apart.
The pain remains, a constant, gnawing ache,
A reminder of what we had, and what we'll never make.
I still hold on to the memories of our past,
The laughter, the tears, the love that will forever last.
Oh, my love, can we find our way back?
Can we relive the moments, that made our love attack?
Can we rediscover, the love that we once shared?
I yearn for the days, when our love was unscarred.
Let's turn back the clock, and be what we used to be,
The love birds, who'd walk side by side, wild and free.
Let's rekindle the flame, that once burned so bright,
And make our love, a beacon, that shines through the night.
Darkness falls,
across my land.
The moonlight shows,
my mystery man.
A story to be told,
as the shadows see.
One of an angel,
the one of you and me.
This mystery man,
stares across the lake.
A gloomy stare,
as if he's not awake.
His face so drawn,
his looks so sad.
Thoughts of his lost ones,
make him so mad.
He looks down to the water,
a tear enters it's space.
As if it's supposed to be there,
and it knows it's place.
He turns toward a path,
and wearily walks along.
The mockingbird sings,
his sad lonesome song.
Along the path,
another tear falls.
He drops to his knees,
and begins to crawl.
He looks to the sky,
and begins to pray.
"The others are gone,
so why must I stay?"
My wife is dead,
my baby is too.
Why can't I die,
what must I do?
I walk up to him,
and touch his cold shoulder.
He grabs my arm,
with the strength of a boulder.
“Oh, kind sir,
why do you cry so?
It's hurting my heart,
please let me know.”
“Beautiful angel,
are you sent from heaven above?
Ask me not why,
you know its for love.”
“You must be mistaken,
no angel am I.
Just an ordinary woman,
asking why you cry."
"Love has hurt you so you say,
but what can be so wrong?
Has memories left you empty,
with feelings that will last long?”
He told me of his story,
we talked the night away.
It was time for him to go,
but I so wanted him to stay.
Please oh please-don't hurt me,
like others have you before.
My love for you burns strong,
it's patient and it's pure.
Instead he tells me one thing,
kisses me then waves good-bye.
I will be back for you my love,
and darling-please don't cry.
Standing on the path I see,
his silhouette in the night sky.
Wishing he'd come back to me,
trying not to cry.
That day he left me standing there,
promising his return back soon.
My broken heart still burns for his,
for it's been twenty years since that moon.
By: Angela Tawney
Bad to Good Spinning Wheel
It's hard to explain on how I feel..
My life has been turning on this big wheel.
I have always tried to do my best.
Staying alive has been my great test.
The Monster has once tooken over my brain.
It brought me guilt it brought me pain.
It showed me power then gave me control.
I was hurting people I was hurting souls.
I was selling things that blocked their minds.
Then they were hooked then they were mines.
I ran then rolled from place to place.
I took their money so they can just have a taste.
The Evil hovers a dark cloud over me.
My soul was tooken then my addiction wouldn't let me free.
Then one day God, put it to a stop.
He sent me to jail when I got caught.
I was there alone then scared.
No one would help me, no one cared.
Ther I sat for that one crime.
I was punished I did my time.
Then one day this man gave me this book.
It changed my soul, it changed my look.
The Evil has left now, I am free.
But everywhere I go my addiction keeps on taunting me.
So I Pray and Pray.
For this temptation,
To Leave.
A friend that is genuine and true is as rare as a flawless stone
once someone crosses your path and lends a helping hand...you know you're not alone
someone who cares for you without expectations of a payment they'll get
someone who feels your pain when you are hurting or upset
someone who wonders how you are
someone who'd make a wish for you on a falling star
someone to laugh with and to cry with
in good times and in bad
someone who'll always love you.....even when they are mad
everyone needs someone that they can call “friend”
but no one has one quite like you
I am blessed without a doubt....to have a friend so true
My heart is filled with so much sorrow. It is aching from disappointments, betrayals,
deceptions, and lies. How can I stop it from hurting from crying, and from screaming
in pain. My heart is no longer whole, but in fragments. How could I start mending
you when I need you to cope. Where do I start from to make you whole again, and
how do I protect you from further crumbling in pieces. Even though my heart is filled
with pain, I never stop lovingl How could my broken heart keeping loving, keep
hoping and keep praying just to be rescued,and there is no rescuer insight. Where
do I start to go to be mended. Pain has invaded my heart and squeeze out every
desirable feelings, leaving me cripple in agony. My heart is crippled in pain. I no
longer know how to be loved because pain has seized my heart.
Can't keep refusing it's on the hands of you
Is this the haunting image of hell I view?
So, to care or plead for my discreet silence
Weak hands are calling to you for guidance
Praying to get help for feelings that permeate
Like watching, hurting, rolled down a sewer grate
Gentle hands tapping a telegraph in dotted code
Seek to find salvation before all these feelings erode
Scared to run, diseases like this don't seem to phase you
Are the answers to it all, I read, found in a hard wooden pew
I wish I had your faults, there aren't many, but I have found a few
Wringing hands, no answers, come fly around my hell, all a skew
No blasphemy intended, no one nailed to the board
Once written, answers in time, by the pearl gate lord
You hardened griefs robed in base linens red,
Whence cascade your endless prickings sore?
Each searing tear squeezed from low eye wet,
Breeds more noxious throbs that come and go.
Once when sweet relief your brutish whips
With belated solace and little mercies clips,
I mistaken think all of your wild rages gone;
Past ill turns now-free souls used to mourn.
Yet even as I dined and wined to celebrate
Abated storms wreaked by your cruel blows,
You again hurled into this glorious banquet
Your timely bile that with my merries grows.
Where beyond griefs' pain-dominated realm,
May hurting pilgrim his ill-faring vessel dock?
Where past cry's long reach and filtered gall,
Might the lamenting traveler rest and dream?
There's high haven way-worn sojourners win,
In a glorious city above sorrow's dreadful din.
If I were a thief who would I rob first?
Would I run to the rich houses?
What would be the point?
They would grab me and throw me in the pokey
Before I broke their windows.
So would I go to the middle class people’s houses?
What would I steal?
If I took the X-boxes and Playstations,
I would only be hurting children.
Do I want to hurt children?
What about church? That is where people are the most trusting.
If I was a thief I would rob people at church. I would go through their pockets
When their coats are hanging in the anteroom during their worship service.
I would sit in a pew and wait for an old lady sitting near me to sing with her hymnal.
I would hear my grandmother’s voice
And I would be ashamed.
Okay, church is out.
What about the poor people?
They have something right?
Forget it. I will keep stealing at school.
It really is the best place.