Long Isolated Poems
Long Isolated Poems. Below are the most popular long Isolated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Isolated poems by poem length and keyword.
Our world of innocence is caught unaware,
Taunted by a nightmare,
An experiment gone wrong; a distorted sculpture,
We're locked inside for the foreseeable future.
We wait for that day of relief,
Citizens get themselves into a psychotic state.
"Lives have been lost" says the news,
Coronavirus is sending people mad.
Where to we go; what do we do,
We try our best to struggle through,
The roads are clear from cars and bikes,
No long walks in the country or hikes.
Isolated from family and friends,
Trapped inside till this crisis ends,
Can we survive this helpless attack?
A life without colour.
Sat here again screwing over what I’ve lost
Mad enough too scream sad enough too tear
Inside I’m annoyed heartbroken and cross
as of the point of no return I’m well clear
I was in a place isolated in pain
Comfy in a social group to then stray
those faces consistent in my life never changed
but the friendships they represented went strange
When I was needing and weak
labelled pathetic attention seek
after their broken legs and heads lost from reality
for years I’d been looking outwardly
but I didn’t see it come back too me
It was all about them and I’d been naive aiding
self centred, I learnt when I needed saving
hypocrites judging any wrong in how I was behaving
telling their opinions spread too see me then cave in
Refusing to acknowledge my situation
they were selfish
but telling everyone put eyes on me
and suddenly they’re selfless
It was all about reputation not friendship
those whom I befriended left me friendless
So I’m sat here again chewing over what I lost
mad enough too scream sad enough too tear
Inside I’m confused heartbroken and lost
mad enough too scream sad enough too tear
The Israelites are slaves in Egypt
They don't know what freedom is
They don't know what education is
They don't know what a freeman is
They cried to the Lord for help
Until God hear their prayer
He send to them Moses
Born to Jochebed
Adopted by the princess
Educated in the court of Egypt
Until 40 years, Moses calling was activated
He was isolated in the mountain
Taught by God the secret of his calling
He obeyed the Lord and sent back to Egypt
He was called not failed but to succeed
Moses led the people of Israel
As Pharaoh give them the freedom
To pacify the 10 plagues to stop
All citizen of Egypt give them gold and silver
Just to atone the curse in Egypt
Moses led the 3 million Jews out of Egypt to Canaan
To fulfill the promise of God to Israelites
They cross the Red Sea till the last one
Able to land the other side of dry land
Because of pride, Pharaoh army pursued them
But God is with Moses, He will do the battle for them
In the middle of walled sea, the Pharaoh army drowned
There are times that the cry must stop
There are times confusion must stop
This is the time Moses stop crying
For God do the battle for them
There was battle cry no more
The miracle has been given
Luck was side with Moses
As God declared victory once and for all
That day they see the salvation of the Lord.
Ever since mine boyhood
I experienced abhorrence
toward yours truly,
an extremely introverted kid,
whose parents nor siblings
(one younger and older sister) could
not arouse him out of his emotional torpor
akin being on par with
Peter Peter pumpkin eater...
whereby he (meaning
author who wrote this poem)
kept himself isolated, quarantined, and xed out
within self made shell.
Me mum mollycoddled her only son
bathed him in maternal love
omnipotent motherliness
figuratively guillotined
(unwittingly) healthy maturation,
thus development sabotaged
courtesy figurative apron strings.
No matter his filial relationship woeful
(to thee woman who birthed him),
he registered sentimental value
regarding keepsakes bequeathed,
he still keeps cherished mementoes
redolent when she lived.
Call him a mama's happy go lucky boy
whose later ambivalent feelings
tarnished, undermined and vitiated
short lived tender loving care,
which brief vouchsafed cocooned wellbeing
regarding idyllic rapport between parents,
got staind, suppurated, sundered, sullied...
in later years by incrimination
against being gainfully unemployed.
February twenty eighth ninety sixty eight
marked a tectonic seismic shift as moving vans
transported our household freight
to (at that time) R(ural) D(elivery) 2,
Level Road Collegeville, Pennsylvania 19426,
a ramshackle (summer) mansion named Glen Elm
plus whittled down fraction
of original Hundred Acre plus wood.
Relocation with Lower Providence School District,
approximately half dozen mile distance
between former and latter home(s),
nevertheless psyche of mine
property of extremely introverted kid
severely hi-jacked.
Administering to the sick the sacrament is one of the most powerful experience
In the rite, The priest was asked to lay his hands on the sick person’s head
Time and time again, this exact moment he experience the most relief and peace on his face
When we suffer from physical ailment or from our sins
We may feel unapproachable and isolated
Suspected that the leper in the Gospel story feel the same way
We not only need the healing power of Father Christ
But also through His touch, Eternal God is our divine Physician
He does not deal with our ill-health from a distance
The divine Physician, Eternal God
Comes intimately close to us
To restore us to grace
METAPHORS OF SILENCE a hopper ekphrasis
it is
what it is
without narrative
isolated
moments
of figuration
sunlight
on a wall
frozen
in time
conversations
of unheard voices
stillness +
paradox
commune within
the
interplay of
imagination
in
studies
of loneliness
emblematic
silences
soundless symbolism
saturated
with suggestion
soft realism
of the inner life
gestates
cries
on canvas
forever before
our eyes
juxtaposed
drip
by
drip
into
melancholy
an empty chair
a sad stare
it is
what it is
In an isolated island where most people are fishermen, life was so hard. One morning near the shore, a genie from a floating lamp appeared before a hundred fishermen and asked each one of them for a wish. Everyone got his chance and had his wish. Ninety-nine fishermen asked for money, clothes, boats, houses, jewelries and other material things. For the one hundredth and last fisherman, he only asked for a tree -- a coconut tree.
Floating lamp, above the surface waves
Fishermen grump, under the water paves
Impossible dreams, in any way unreachable
Imagination streams, in every way achievable.
(Prosebite)
When the weather is fine I will go for a joyful ride
When the weather is fine, I will get what is mine
I will ride my bike up the hill and do the middle age women drill.
When the weather is fine I will knock on every door to get an army of women to meet me at the shore; I will run around the block and get everyone to put on a frock and plant some flags in the middle of the bushy and isolated land, and join hands in hands to mark the spot where I will make the final lap.
When the weather is fine I will travel to the north and South Pole and show the people that I am bold, I will ride around the small towns with more than a hundred cyclist interacting with the people that we meet and persuade them to march with me on the street.
I will give them simple notes and tell them what my philosophy is all about we will mount a big float in center of the town and dressed it with colors of heavens and nature where destiny is bound, and when the day is done I will drink a shot of strong over proof rum, everyone will take a sip before you join the big ship and courageously move through the town and spread the word around.
When the weather is fine I will have a barbecue and fish fry in middle of the town and play ping pong until the sun goes down, we will dance to the middle age women beat, I will round up thousands of them to get the lion out of the den, if you are a man and would like to wear frock, I don’t have a problem with that, we have lots of dresses at the desk put them on and join the pack.
When the weather is fine three hundred million people will meet in an open space on the other side of the gate. I will organize everyone in several lanes and we will ride through the street until the journey is complete. Destiny is riding with me and everyone is going to be happy.. Everyone is ready for the middle age women drill.
Unspoken ideas are art galleries in ruin, frescoes on the walls of our weary minds,
From them were born the wars that tore humanity apart through infinite epochs,
Unspoken words melt into the air like musical notes you will never hear,
Yet they are there, scattered in your soul like dancing ghosts.
I turn back time to destroy peace, for peace is a beautifully wrapped lie,
A toxic illusion that keeps us in chains, a story long outdated,
I let fear drain from me and raise my fist to the sky with blind confidence,
As the flames I ignited begin to consume the universe.
The desire for destruction is the mute child of voices ignored for too long,
But is any of this real, or is it all just a season
In which we bathe, blinded by lies served daily on a platter?
Poisons masked as food, brainwashing in schools, a perpetual venom.
Open your eyes and look around at the isolated bubbles of social media that swallow us,
We are just puppets in an absurd theater, an infinite spectacle,
Reality has dissolved into collective hallucinations and programmed illusions,
But I... I am different, I am the puppeteer pulling the calculated strings.
Control flows through my veins like a spring of primordial power,
While the rest of the world dances to the rhythm of an artificial symphony,
For I am the director of this spectacle, the shadowy master who laughs,
Watching society unravel under the weight of lies that kill it.
Don't assume I write with an aim or end in sight, my ambition isn't with the pen the paper or the mic, I'm not reaching to be famous or for riches or for hype, writing down my thoughts is me unloading what's inside after many years of silence and confusion of my life which I now know came from breakdowns in an isolated strife that dragged on overwhelmingly to attempted suicide, I had many people but not one of them on side, nobody to talk to no one seeing through my eyes stunned by the lack of support as the battle reached it's height which i now know went unnoticed because it was thought a lie, happening so fast i lost my thought process and lived mentally blind, I was snowballed in the moments losing track and in decline, with no one taking notice of myself as the person I was died, numb and living clueless hoping theories could answer why, people told me my problems convinced that they were right but none of them came close to truth which I still hadn't realised, those thoughts still remained unprocessed and years had now gone by, it was worthlessness in autopilot taking each day at a time, I knew people had done me wrong but couldn't place their crime, the theories they came up with shone a light inside their mind, I never once blamed anyone and accepted it as mine, but my subconscious was hinting at what people were truly like, leading me to a place were their company was denied,
with no one influencing me I slowed cleared my mind, the thought process flickered on again over a decade behind, repressed memories present the answers and facts began to shine, i could see true colours as the chapter horrified, I never spoke about it because they told me not to lie, which lead to a suffered silence until i broke down and lost the light, no future or past in mind stuck living but not alive, these people were my closest and now have no place in my life, they left me isolated where I stayed until today when I have only I, yet theorizing never stopped and their mentality doesn't lie, they haven't ever changed and i see through their whole disguise, they want to better everyone and help nobody rise, they benefitted as I survived unsure wanting to die, a revelation helping me come back to life, it took it's time as it had too much pain it had to hide, but time and distance was the key and I write to stay alive