Long Indignity Poems
Long Indignity Poems. Below are the most popular long Indignity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Indignity poems by poem length and keyword.
Goldie, my peculiar but beloved cat,
has certain affectations --
she prefers, most times, her own society
and shuns her housemates.
But, sometimes, she cuddles
or will join the others
to laze around -- in the living room,
the dining room, a hallway, or
in the kitchen.
An inside cat who, early on,
suffered the indignity of
"the operation,"
she asserts her independence
by darting into the front yard
when a door is opened --
and she pointedly ignores
any calls or pleas to come inside.
But when the door shuts
and no one is around, she is fearful,
immediately climbing up into the ash tree.
And there she stays
until I come to coax her down.
She may climb high up
and, finally, shakily manage
a descent to allow me to pick her up
and carry her back inside.
She never leaves the yard
but does enjoy ignoring me
when I am in a hurry.
She will dart about and run
from one side of the yard to the other.
For her, it's only an infrequent game.
And, as my treasured pet,
she certainly deserves to play
while testing the limit
of my affectionate, chagrined
commitment.
Dealing with deep touching issues sleepless nights worried
lovingly do not understand my head anymore teardrops keep falling weakness
cut from finest silk cannot take this heartbreak and disappointment
Enough watching my mother and father crying
respect not into this hurting pain brings joy ends inside
indignity knowing my path was chosen from birth
Goodness knows why through the injustice reeks tyranny inflames scars
unhappy dealing with invisible grief and shame it brings forth
sharing what I must make visible fighting for truth hate manifesting
Opening these eyes a miracle dream bowing defeat comes disturbing news
within great pain and loss not guilty judged pleas unheard story
No say deemed unworthy suffering with the courage to stand up against conviction
What I believe in the end justice peace holds pure the innocence unheard
societies untouchables in this world tyranny hides shame to speak
rising behind pride and greed masks destruction of a heart's dignity
When falling down on my knees burdened heavily patience wounds salted
always stood for what is right speaking up in defense true spirit embracing souls joined love united we sang with freedom choosing our destinies directions join
Dancing tunes always sunshine peace finds the only direction home hand in hand
such friendship forever a promise shines one day to come we have walked
this path golden together shared in this life our dreams kissing sacred gift maiden
unrhymed tercet
Sing to the heavens
All you who are weary
Burdened and depressed
Feeling like there is no way out
Sing to the heavens
All you who know worry and doubt
Pray for a light in the darkness
For encouragement from failures
For a way to hope for better
For joy that rings true
Amid the sorrow and despair
Amid the worry that haunts you
Sing to the heavens
And listen to God whisper
It is a still, small voice
Filled with inspiration
He will color your dreams
In laughter, joy and peace
He will bring you serenity
Amid the worry and indignity
Of pain that leaves you feeling
Like He isn’t really listening
Sing to the heavens
Praise Him in the storm
He is a light in the darkness
He is a guide through the cyclone
He makes a way where
There has been no way before
He silences doubts and discouragements
With kindness that reaches out
Reflects all the love in a prayer
Sing to the heavens
All you who linger in disbelief
Hear the Holy Spirit
Whispering and bringing peace
To the heart who hears
God amid the rain that pours out
A blessing that nourishes and assures
God is in full control and His heart
Is open to those who He loves
And, His love will guide you home
Sing to the heavens
And silence all of your suspicions
God is a rising hope
In the heart, soul and spirit
He will help you make it out of
The shadows that send you to a prison
Of sorrow, shame and madness
Brought on by a lack of belief
Sing to the heavens
Listen to the voice of God
He will help you to make it
Through the sorrows and the hurts
He will lead you out of adversity
Send you to a place of joy and hope
Fill you up with laughter and light
Pour faith over your heart and soul
And help you to always know
He brings the wonder of a love
So honest and bold that it sends grace
To every heart who needs love
To every soul who bleeds gloom
To everyone who needs Him
The answer to every heart’s dream
The reason for a faith that believes
The joy, the peace, the friendship
That is alive and never ends
Sing to the heavens…
He is life and He makes the spirit live!
When I suddenly lost my loved one,
Despondency and despair took control of me—I felt like I couldn’t cope;
I had no one to help me heal or alleviate my anguish,
I eventually turned to alcohol and dope.
I knew these were bad choices,
But at the time, I felt that they helped ease my pain;
The miserable feelings of hopelessness and failure
Overtook me again and again.
Ultimately, I lost everything,
My job, my family, and my home;
Hitting rock-bottom, I suddenly realized I was destitute, distressed, and all alone.
Wearing dirty tattered clothes, on a busy street intersection I stood,
I felt degraded and downcast while holding an old cardboard sign;
Asking…begging…and pleading for any spare change,
I felt humiliated as the drivers looked at me while they waited in line.
Very few really acknowledged me,
And those that did angrily gawked and stared;
I felt so much embarrassment and indignity,
It hurt me deeply to feel as though no one cared.
I never thought I’d have to have these feelings of upmost shame,
That I would become one of society’s outcasts, a nobody… an unseen;
Lord, on bended knee, I pray to You…
Please help me turn my life around, so that I may feel happiness and peacefulness and all of the good things in between.
NOTE: My poem isn’t about me personally. I wrote this for the people that are in this particular situation.
The cut bashed from a hike in the woods , and the roll down the
Hill and the wound if not washed and dressed with the proper
ointment will fester and have a malodorous odor. The wounded
hiker should as duty calls rush home, head to the closet , seize
the first aide kit, and wash the laceration conventionally as a
nurse would. And apply ointments and gauze to avoid problems.
But left untreated one part of our anatomy is unseen and forever
hidden of the prying eyes of X-rays, ultrasounds and surgeons on
operating tables or exam rooms. Its even hidden from the one
whose body it was given to before all ages. And we know this
because the Holy Spirit has given us our soul to enrich and
enliven us. I can talk to my soul by telling him I love him and
listen for responses and welcoming guidance.
What can I do to my soul after years of wounding. Addiction,
sexual exploitation, lack of nourishment of prayer to God,
neglectful adoration of God and degradation of my soul left
alone imprisoned through indignity after indignity until the wound
festers and my very being lingers on the verge. No ointment or
gauze or bandage may be of service to the substance of my
being. Alone the body moves as the soul watches a silent
tear ,gradually, and slowly gushes out of the heart of mine own
eye as he lingers crying.
Those lasting words pour through my lobes as with each gasp,
reaching further inside of me for something hidden, I see a
shadowed face tear struck and wanting, reaches and pulls me
forward.
The ship of dreams
I have never been to Sylhet, Bangladesh it doesn’t matter
it was in May, the rain was relentless, and the last Bengal tigers
had drowned in a flood plain and a famous man had been
buried in a led coffin in the Bay of Bengal.
I had been stuck for a week on an elderly bulk ship while
waiting for scrap iron to fill the hulls, the sad rests of once
proud ship the oceans to be cut to pieces with disregard
of the inanimate that had histories untold.
The grisly irony for the elderly ship, it was her last voyage
she had to return to the same noisy, ty little town
to become scrap iron and nobody gave this great indignity
not a second thought, humanity gave a
On the voyage to Australia, she sank deeper into the sea
then usual otherwise, she ploughed at on at a reduced speed
she was sinking slowly like an aged man in the shallow
end in a swimming pool.
When the sea washed over her decks, authorities were called
and the crew manned the lifeboats, but she didn’t go down
right away, she lingered under the sea’s surface for days
when the navy came to rescue the crew, she had sunk more.
Having absorbed, over the years, the wishes and hopes of many
She became animate and could sense her surroundings and sense
hurts, the heartache of a crew member whose wife left him
The navy simply torpedoed the ship as a danger to shipping.
The rottenness of it all is no less foul for having been bleached white. This is the conclusion I come to. I walk with a scarf covering my mouth through the dimly lit catacombs of the faithful. The arched ceiling holds a dangling string of incandescent bulbs which cast a sickly yellow glow on my shoes and the cavities full of thighbones. “Why are all the bones the same,” I ask. The guide smiles. “Tens of thousands of heaven seekers wish to be buried here. There’s only so much room,” he said. “Even today people pay for holy ground.” Ghostly, armless, rib-less, headless, specters seem to rise un-braced, oh the indignity of it all. I picture them searching for the missing parts of themselves. I sneeze through my paisley scarf, stumble back; back, following the arrows in reverse, seeking the way out; just as frantically as they had sought the way in. The rest of the group trudges on; after all, they had paid their coin to Charon.
First Published in Inwood Indiana January 2014
She buried the bodies down by the orchard grove
It's so pretty in spring
You just gotta go
The flowers grow tall
When the sun goes low
You gotta go
She didn’t kill him just for fun
No fun was had that day
He had the looks that said okay
It was just his mouth
That did betray
She was just an easy lay
The years rolled by
And time forgot
All until that day
The storm unearthed
What was buried
Down by orchard grove
He pushed her awake
Gave her the news
Something about orchard grove
They found dead people down there
Wasn’t that the place
You left in disgrace
She laughed
He had the looks that said okay
It was just his mouth
That did betray
She killed him quick
Burying him next to pear tree, Rick
Sometimes late at night
They come back to say hello
Some scream indignity
Others scream hell no
It was like having good friends around the stove
The bodies buried down by orchard grove.
Words have power
Strung together like pearls, an art in itself
They uplift and empower
Create indignity and shatter confidence
Condemn and create drama
Existing for a brief moment in time
Yet, can ring for a lifetime
A victim of life
A prison to ourselves
Negative self help a silk web at first
The morning pep talk as we perceive individuality
Believing the reflection we see
Why are we so careless with four letters?
What word were you thinking?
Words can oppress, harass, persecute
Hoping to feign dominance and influence
And victimizes upon return
A never ending cycle.
Like an addiction
Hard to give up without a reason to change
However, amidst an adverse environment
We may miss the shine of a string of pearls
But when found, amazing things are possible
Grandad land is a place like heaven
Where one can disappear
Shut out all the daily noises
A place granddad holds so dear
Where women talk in silent voices
And the kids are rarely seen
We are spared the great indignity
Of being called geriatric, senile, or unclean
It is a place that time can pass
So blissful, serene and quiet
Away from the nagging and the incessant chat
And any impending family riot
The world where Rainbows shine every day
That wonderful place only he can know
So when you see Grandad looking vacant in a chair
That’s where he is, so now you know
The Greenhouse or Garden Shed
His main place of refuge when
He needs some space to be alone
In peace and tranquillity once again
He has selected hearing
For those moments which he cares for less
And occasionally you have to wonder
What planet he’s on I guess
But he will always still be Grandad
The one who will always care
As he smokes his *** and sits and dreams
In his old comfy chair
So spare a thought next time you see
That he’s drifted into his own world to get inner peace
Because when he awakes he will always say
What, when, who of course I was listening, wonders will never cease