Long Isolation Poems
Long Isolation Poems. Below are the most popular long Isolation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Isolation poems by poem length and keyword.
It is not a fact
That the super moon arrived
after many years
And will again be seen
After so many years
It came just the other day
With a lot of tales to say
Whenever you come
As the colours come
In apple handsome
Whenever you come
As a yellow and red music
In the flute and drum
Whenever you come
Along with bees in hum
The super moon comes
And not the everyday moon
That we are used to, like our
Tobacco and eructation sour
Our brown pride and black power
No, not so commonplace an episode
Without nothing to decode
It is a super moon
When you come
As a glide trembling in a tune
Taking down the moon
It is not a fact too
That you will not come again
Very soon
May be next June
May be sooner or later
We cannot predict
When the bones and bloods will be lit
No computer to foresee
Nor there will be one
When the thunder will knock in a frisson
A lightning will flash across the horizon
Almost all on a sudden
One day we see a lovely cherry
on a deep red tree
Inside our cognitivity
There, there, upon the dunes
The moon changes
To a super moon
No more camels in a procession
In the shadows of isolation
Existential fragmentation
In the peace of night
The delighted super moon
May enter through your window
And sit beside your pillow
You may act Pablo Picasso
Neruda Pablo
Or blame it on Rio
Morning night or noon
You don't know when
But it does come
The super moon
Time does flirt
Overt or covert
According to your personality
Extro or introvert
Time does bloom
To flood our momentary rooms
With the exhilarating sensations
From the super moon
Whether a Trump
Or a dweller in a slum
All including she he and you
Can understand my view
'Cause the milieu
And the needle and thread
With which I sew this design
The visits of super moonshine
You have perceived it
You did meet it
In the recurrent current
Flooding your barren lands
Inside your chest
Your resplendent moments of crest
The super moon in our inward sky
My smiling shadow in your eyes
Our times intensify
As we both live and die
It is a succession of life and death
The desire dances underneath
------------------------------------------------
24/11/2016
Kicked out of a theater for the twenty-sixth time,
the owner suggested to the highest building in town they should climb.
From there, throw yourselves down to the street.
Their act was considered both putrid and effete.
It was discovered three beautiful women also came.
Hilda, Wilda, and Tilda they were called by name.
These girls didn’t seem to have anything to hide.
In a similar situation, they contemplated suicide.
As all six of them were ready to go,
there was somebody mysteriously playing a piano.
The man playing the instrument was a millionaire.
He often played in isolation in the open rooftop air.
The man thought this sextet had talent that was not bad.
He hired all of them to star in a musical that he had.
However, the stooges and female company once again tasted defeat.
The man was insane and bound for Dr. Dippy’s Retreat.
Based on the Columbia Pictures short subject “Rhythm and Weep” starring the Three Stooges.
My entire life, I have ran
Avoided, buried, ignored
A wound that could never heal
Try as I might to not see
At times, it would appear
Weeping...oozing pit pain
Down in the dungeon
It is hot, isolation, so cold
It's hard to sit, where it is
Soul sear, burns and rips
Leaving tears to flow like a river
Desolate...no one to drink
Longings grow out of silence
Imagination runs in green lush fields
On the back of my trusted steed
I soared through visions of freedom
The wind whipping through my hair
Matted...abrupt reality of despair
Even after He came, lifting me up
Totally restoring the scarred soul
The ache screamed, piercing the darkness
When I left all the abuse for LOVE
My whole being longed to be pursued
Anger...great wrath is all you could muster
For daring to leave you alone.....
Written by Trudy Schrader on 11-25-2023
When the hurt takes over and day turns to night, stop.
Try to see the light where ever you can, it is there.
When the worries pile high, stress overwhelms, stop.
Just to clear the mind for solutions to find, they are there.
When the grief consumes with longing in empty places, stop.
Breathe in each breath with gratitude for every moment shared.
When fear strikes, chasing you into lonely isolation, stop.
Try to find your own comforting things that help you feel safe.
When negativity rules hovering like clouds losing hope, stop.
Think about every talent you have to act on, these are gifts.
When everything seems to be too much to bear, stop.
Focus on the moment, find humor, laugh, you are ok right now.
Care is waiting within you. Faith is waiting for you to believe.
You have survived and taken every step to get where you are
Another step, is not too far.
Heidi Sands
At the ballpark in a sequestered location
are baseball pitchers waiting in isolation.
They ready themselves for a bad situation.
When starting pitchers falter, they are called upon.
The call goes to the bullpen, and they toss the ball.
The fans can see them “warming up” behind a wall.
If their teams are in danger of losing the lead,
the managers summon them during time of need.
If the pitcher on the mound’s outcome is in doubt,
relievers take their places to seek the third out.
Left or right-handed, they cannot break when bending.
With each “save”, the contests have a happy ending.
every baby born naked
the great was born naked
the president was once a baby
the preacher man was born naked
even the prophets were once a
baby
the rich was born naked
even the politicians were once
a baby
the doctor was born naked
even the nurses was once a baby
the teacher was born naked
even the professor was once a baby
the poor was born naked
even the celebrities were once a baby
if we all were born naked
and if everyone were once
a baby
so were cometh this knowledge
of division in devaluation
the division of humans
by race by countries
by development
by ideology
by education
by civilisation
if everyone was born naked
then no one is a landlord
no one is greater or better
we only can transform
as we grow by time
so in all dignity of life
we are a reflection to
each other
we can only learn
the to push up humanity
with the varieties of creativity
or
die in isolation for nothing
and be go naked like
every baby born naked
Another prompt, just another poem,
but are these genuine feelings I'm showing?
I think of past versions of my existence,
changing with each season without resistance.
But now I'm too fatigued to study myself,
so leave me alone on a dusty bookshelf.
Sitting upon the edge of unread distant shores,
soul sighs, tired from being a misunderstood metaphor.
Sometimes the inner child loves to run wild,
try to be patient, he forgets how he once smiled.
I can't keep blaming those ghosts from childhood,
but it disturbs the mind when all I see is graphic blood.
I'm trying hard to control these red mists of rage,
to start a new chapter with new verses on a page.
I search for avenues that lead me to chapters of purity,
but this facade hides behind deep suppressed insecurity.
Low self esteem massacres my confidence,
I'm just a man who sometimes lacks common sense.
My outbursts of slaughter are just a means for defence,
apologise in advance if I caused any offence.
Forgive me, I can never take back the sorrows I caused,
but is that any reason for love to remain paused?
You won't see any tears, but they hide my fears.
I've seen through the years that torment never clears.
Encrypted musings of my heart hide behind pain,
Sometimes the wounds reappear and still strain.
I close every door to find silent solitude,
but these devious demons begin to intrude.
Ranting and raving as the Devil joins the queue,
wanting to take me to a darkness that I once knew.
Toxic vampires sucking at my bleeding empathy,
compassion goes out of fashion lacking sympathy.
I try to explain but my views only frustrate,
after a while it seems my opinions are out of date.
Then you wonder why I refuse to communicate,
ignorance of my emotions isn't up for debate.
Silence seems to be the best form of narration.
No one is listening to the angst of my damnation.
I'm content in the deep depths of isolation,
don't summon my soul without an invitation.
Silent One
23 March 2022
If You Live By The Sword
Then You Die By The Sword
How do you explain that to a child?
Do on to others as they do on to you.
An audience in the trees
gleamed upon the sight
darkening the light
blotting out the sun.
Nesting birds departing
upward flight,
dancing images
of children's play
in a sandbox
in the shady shadow.
Toys round them
all colors and shapes.
A drop of sand in a dump truck
another in a red bucket;
it made contagious laughs
with occasional exceptions
lost tempers,
sand flies
toys fly.
Isolation
or
integration.
We're the pearls of wisdom.
Play nice
or
get hurt with your actions.
The sunshine through the roaring clouds.
Rain drops brought deject day,
Bathed the children in feted glee.
Friends helped each other gather toys.
From play-time and cheerful day
to gather back with promises sweet,
another day of feted glee.
12/9/2019
not for the contest "to long"
I'm beginning to feel odd,
hermit like if you will.
I refuse to believe all the lies
they tell wrapped up nicely like
presents presented as truth.
they even get our youth and act
like their parents when they
have none of their own.
believe me I'm not trying to
throw stones I just peep what
I know therefore I'm a homebody
where I know the truth unfolds
before my eyes in the privacy of
my home while I pray to the Upmost
author of truth for discernment to know
what He wants me to know
the veil can be removed and the light
can shine out and from within
then I have the boldness along
with courage to speak the gospel
to whomever will listen since it's
my intention to reach as many as I
can and help them understand real
love and salvation that is waiting for
them
a hermit I can be no more
My mind is in confusion
I think there's been an intrusion.
The things I see are just an illusion
and I am seeking a solution
Before I'm overwhelmed with emotion.
In my mind, there's a combination
of possession
of obsession
of aggression
Something has blurred my vision
and has lowered my ambition
I don't know right now if this is a confession
it's been a while since our last short session
But, I believe there's been a deviation
and a disassociation
*Stop all communication.
*There has been a breach in the information.
*Alternative initiation.
*New determination.
*Protocol transition.
System reboot: New variation
/: No more distraction
Subject isolation
/: No more frustration
Lose passion,
Lose affection,
Lose foundation.
System configuration
New partition.
Other personality integration.
Could not delete all old files, system malfunction.
Conclusion
Now I am an amalgamation of silence and communication.
an accumulation of inattention and consideration.
a combination of relaxation and agitation.
articulation of imagination and exaggeration.
So, what's your recommendation?