Long Intolerable Poems

Long Intolerable Poems. Below are the most popular long Intolerable by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Intolerable poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member SENT TO BE TORTURED BY THE PEASANTS

The Greek Olympians sent one of their own
To live among the peasants in a pastoral setting
Punishment for past transgressions with mortals alone.
O she thought there must be some mistake.

When she saw the rolling hills and fields covered with flowers
The grazing sheep at peace among the olive groves and vineyards
Bursting with life and energy in a symphony of love and music
A pastoral beauty the envy of every mortal and semi-deity, awake.

But soon she began to beg for mercy, begged for a release
From the incredible creatures who lived there, worse than beast,
Worse than the invasive weeds they violently try to kill,
Hungry ghosts or demons she thought from Hell.

And she begged to return to Olympus before they destroyed her,
Or killed her in their savage raging senselessness and ignorant weight, 
In their spiteful vengeance and moral depravity and falsity,
Descending into brutality, transgressing all civil decency and restraint.

With scheming nastiness too heavy to even try to understand,
Surrounded by niggardliness and suspicion in an incomparable generous land
Incomprehensible ferocious jealously unheard of anywhere she had ever been,
Biting sarcasm beyond anything she has ever seen.
They even ridiculed her beauty and divinity.

She begged for deliverance from their filth and spite and ignorance,
From their gluttony and violence, which made the pastoral landscape
Become something quite disgusting, transforming her view of it into a rape
An intolerable nightmare of perverse selfishness seen through their sin.

Then she knew why she had been sent to this ruined Paradise,
The visual vestiges of Eden, turned into a veritable human hell
So, in the infernal heat of a passing summer, which seemed an eternal spell,
She began to see the consequences of sin, and repented for hers.
The Olympians’ divine purpose had been well served and she confers.
Form: Rhyme


Our Love Absurd

Art though my own and may I now love thee?
Art though my own and shall I  thy wife be?
As waiting long  lays waste to love and joy
Art though mine,  or with me do’st thou toy?

O treat me not like  stuff disposable
O treat me not  as one intolerable.
For if  thou touch then thou hast made a claim.
And from  the heart, to lose is to be maimed.

For  women are not like  to sheep or goats
We have hearts to feel what thou hast wrought
And if  thou come to steal then  thou’rt a  thief.
One of many , causing women grief.

Do not touch with hand or with sweet words
For  if thou  lie, we feel our love  absurd
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Dissecting the Declaration 2

Herein lies the identity of their enemy
Herein lies the description of the abuses
Herein lies the claims against their tyrant
Herein lies the picture of their fixed intolerance
Herein lies their 'no recourse' and plan of action
Herein lie the rhyme and the reason, their right, and their duty
The Americans who led the way, and the people whom they represented, made it very clear that the abuses suffered at the hands of the King of England had become intolerable and the time had come for total separation.  No one could have expressed it better than what we now read in in a short portion of the text:                                                                  ***************************************************************                                                                
"But, when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object, evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future security. Such has been the patient sufferance of these colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former systems of government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute tyranny over these states. To prove this, let facts be submitted to a candid world."  What follows this paragraph is a long list of grievances.
***************************************************************
I counted 18 instances in which the pronoun "HE" was used to initiate an accusation against the King of England.  The signers of the declaration left no doubt as to "The Who" of their enemy and "Why" he was so rendered.
In the closing lines of the text, with their backs against the wall and their faces staring in the face of God, it is no wonder that they could say with confidence and faith, "And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor."  As we celebrate the 4th of July in 2020, may we, the descendants(Red, Yellow, Black, Brown, and White) of the brave Americans of 1776 think no different and do no less.

062120PS
Form: Verse

Premium Member Finding Home

I feel stuck in a web of moving on
to leave home behind.

I want to be free of safe turtle shells,
to commune with naked nature
including human,
divine,
humane,
wombmain
not excluding any egostrong stability,
identity,
fragility
as if intolerable
to civil integrity.

I need to grow free,
to feel communion 
within
without
above
below
for and of all nature/spirit souls,
timelessly copresent in- and ex-carnations
explicitly remembered
and vaguely
curiously
transparently
vulnerably forgotten
fuels of felt fame
exhausted and ingested, 
sober and jested.

I am asking
invoking,
exhaling and inhaling,
possibly provoking
Earth
and all Her Tribes
all Her Eternal Times,
all Her Sacred Spaces
impressed
and suppressed
and depressed
wombmain neural regenerative Places:

When I must at last choose home
between secular wise purpose
and sacred integral meaning,

Remind me,
Mother's birthing nature,
of all our polypathic indigenous ways,
of all organic truths
indicating this ego identity could not be all trusted home
within one compassionate EarthLove.

Reality

Backwards and forwards
Life takes a turn
This is most often 
what we don’t deserve

Life’s a disappointment
Covered in shame
Crushed with confusion
Sadness and blame

Struggling and hustling
Just getting by
We are exhausted,
Shaken, we cry

Anxiety clutters us
Tension is splattered
We are exhausted
But what does it matter?

We reach for solutions
Are thrown back in the cell
Having to face 
this intolerable hell

Things can be caustic
Existence is brutal
We are destroyed
And our Efforts are futile

Hang on, oh dear ones
The cycle will change
And we will extinguish
This horrible pain

We’ll overcome
And come out as victorious
And our newfound reality 
Will emerge as splendid and glorious
Form: Lyric


Premium Member Black '

Blank blackness alone, 
severence no service to atone..Deeds all done, the wounds do not lie.' The cratered earth
The oppressed's keening cries, the drugs
That shattered, the claims 
so false.' The
Ill gained wealth, the 
positions sought.
All consigned to eternity.' While away
From its tides, blackness is
 your pillow
As all rest is denied, you call
 out for help!
For reason, and to the judge
 who put you
In, the blackness, that incinerates
 yet your
Awareness dies not, there is no budge!
 The blackness becomes indelable,
 its part
Of your ( un-whole) no deafness is 
possible. You imbibe each shriek in this
Enormous hole, there is no top; sides or
Bottom..Yet still you feel that sink.' In a clamour with no heartbeat you with no eyes attempt to blink, you cannot escape from this intense place of pain, you scream with no voice for relief, a fair judge.' Or will the jailor, please
 allow some
Lessening.? Of the intolerable
dark mass, and pain'
That repeats your rejection, of the Holy Name, for indeed you were your own judge, when you mocked the 
God of all fame' 
You chose to inherit hells realm, and the
Un-relenting
Blackness, through which you must ever 
fall!
Form: Bio

Journey To the Peak

Little blades of grass touching my naked feet
Oh, the soft pleasant touch, the trodden path
I am treading again; though this is my first
Venture, my maiden hike towards the peak
The great heights of the neighbouring mountains!
Have you ever lost yourself in the benumbing wilderness?
Have you ever heard the silent call of the Titans, metamorphosed
Into rocks? Little nameless flowers swaying their heads 
In an enchanted dance; the chill in the air 
Gently touching my mortal body, making a grand statement
“If the heaven exists anywhere, it’s here, it’s absolutely here”
The eternal path leads you from crag to crag, from bends to bends
Like a child of nature I play hide and seek with the impish fountains
And waterfalls, oh how majestically they cascade down 
On the wings of wild butterflies, 
Swiftly hiding 
Into impregnable gorges
The hairpin bends
Beckons
Oh, the wider stretch again
Looming, there is before, the endless and bottomless
Gulf of the sky, kissed benevolently by the sunny morning
High and hoary oaks and pines
Standing on both sides like insomniac sentries
The intolerable ache, nearly paralysed feet
One
Step 
Forward, another
One
Inflated lungs
Is it the end of the road?
Oh, god, at last, yeah, at last
I am on top 
I am looking beneath towards the inviting clouds
My eagle soul outstretches its wings

The sky kisses my forehead like my mother
 

17.09.2014
Contest: Pinnacle

Premium Member The Fridge

Monday

                 It has come to my attention, that someone has been stealing from 

                 the communal fridge. I notice that my own personal milk with my

                 name on the bottle is half empty, also three fingers of my KitKat 

                 are missing. Please refrain, or action will be taken.

Tuesday

                 It has come to my attention, and I’m pleasantly surprised to see

                 my milk has been topped up, though, why two fingers of my

                 kitkat  in a V sign just beggars belief. Just tasted my milk, you 

                 dirty bastard. I will now be monitoring the fridge from my office.

                 You will be caught.

Wednesday

                  

                   It has come to my attention, the camera monitoring the fridge

                   is now monitoring the ladies toilet. This is intolerable, you are

                   usurping my authority. Heads will roll. I will now be moving the

                   fridge into my office until further notice.

Thursday

 

                   It has come to my attention, my office has been penetrated,

                   the fridge is missing, and I find a ransom note on my desk.

                   I don’t know who you people think you're dealing with, but

                   let me leave you in no doubt, I will find out who you are, and

                   you will be dismissed.

Friday

 

                   It has come to my attention, a delivery of fifty fridges is 

                   cluttering up the whole building, management is going 

                   ballistic. I concede to your demands, please get rid of

                   them. Let us get back to you taking my milk and my biscuits,

                   my job, my life. Just leave me alone.

          Thankyou.
© Paul Bell  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member -His Story

Alone he sat on the cold soft sand
Gazing at the ocean
Reflecting on his life 
Overcome with emotion

His dad left when he was young
Never to return
His  mother checked out slowly
It was the bottle she did yearn

There were no meals on the table
No heating or warm clothes in a drawer
Mums asleep on the couch again
Empty bottles on the floor 

His mother gradually wasted away
Her eyes became yellow and blank
She no longer knew her son
From all the poison she drank

She died a horrible death
At fourteen he was all alone
No-one to turn to
Nowhere to call home

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Years passed by ….now a man
Sitting on the beach
Tears rolled down his face
As for his bottle he did reach

His life had been a struggle
As long as he could recall
Never having being nurtured 
Or ever knowing love at all

He tried to do it right
Be a good and decent man
The demons inside his head
Silenced only by the bottle or can

He led a solitude life
Had nothing to call his own
Felt helpless and lost
Ostracised and alone

As he sat on the beach
Looking up at the stars
He was angry and sobbed heavily
Triggered by  demons and scars

The hurt he suffered was intolerable 
He placed his hand over his heart
Fell backwards in the sand
Only then did hand and bottle part!

~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He looks at her sweet young face
He’s filled with loving pride
As she listens to the story
Snuggling closer into his side

He watches his wife potter in the kitchen
Glowing as again with child
She glances over at him 
Giving a loving smile

He feels complete fulfilment 
He now knows what it’s like to be loved
To have family and be whole
Present …..No longer drugged!

It’s been nearly eight years since he touched the bottle
Turned his life around
Finally breaking that cycle
So future generations
Can walk on sober ground!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
© Deb M   Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

A Young Man Between a Father and Daughter

A   young man between a father and  daughter
 
Today dawns with black tears
To show my forthcoming grief
The sky was dark with thunders
As her bursting words from mouth
Her every word points my heart as dagger and
Killed me though I am living
She was in love with him before her age of seventeen
He is my villain between me and her
Though he is not handsome
She is in love with him
She is still a child and innocent angel
She is in love with that man
Her plain and open smiles have gone
Her eyes are searching him in the air and river
He came between me and her and
Separated her from my vision
With an intolerable pain and tears
I give a word to her “yes”

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