Long Judgment Poems
Long Judgment Poems. Below are the most popular long Judgment by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Judgment poems by poem length and keyword.
What is life without joy and happiness?
what is life without self honour and pride?
Upon this mountain hell i lay every day
Battered and frustrated
A man of sorrow, forsaken
My spirit groans for mercy which failed to come
All is taken away from me including the smallest pin
of what is life without a mother?
painted black and red
I mourn every seconds for that pretty damsel
swifter that the eagle, my heart pounded
Joy whispers sadness in my ears
and tears becomes my friend
In despair i feast and dance sorrowfully
they mock and throw me around like a forbidden coin
men are evil, my spirit moans
Raising my eyes to see my ears
i could tell of their wickedness
my goats, cows and jewelries gone
Hear me evil souls, the nature has its judgment
Once in life, it cometh and it hard to escape
It hard to escape the judgment
look at father native compound
it been taken away by strangers
those who once dance with us
In good fortune and share our breads and barns together
NOw, they are against us in fury
Dare point us in the face and laugh
Hear me old friends, nature has its judgment
The nature has its judgment, beware
In my old age. bitterly i weeps all day
in affliction and harsh labour
my foes had become my masters
the roads to my hut mourns
my compound groans and grieved
None to comfort me, all my friends had betrayed me
All the splendor has departed in the air
this is why i weep and,
my body shivers
My eyes overflow with water
All who pass my way clapped and laughed at me
Enemies open their mouth wide against me
my grieves are many and my heart fainted
i am in torment within, disturbed and distracted
I remembered my wandering and pains
In the dark forest alone
Covered my self with anger
perhaps my father had sinned
And i didn't know and,
we now bore the pains
Getting brad is at my life risk
Because of the sword beneath
look and see our disgrace
Those who pursue us are at our heels
my siblings scattered abroad sorrowfully
No one to caution us and drag us back
Till end i know the earth has it judgments
i shall sing beautifully with joy in other phase of life
when the gate shall open.
ALL RIGHT RESERVED (C) JOHN CHIZOBA VINCENT 2013
A DREAMERS PLIGHT ON JUDGEMENT DAY
Give solely sovereign sway & Masterdom.
The air nimbly & sweetly recommends itself unto my gentle senses
To commend the ingredients of my poisoned chalice.
But this same thing we desire the most
That makes us say 'the one I love the most is the one I hate the most'.
The love that follows us at times is our trouble.
How tender it is to love the babe that milks me?
And make my face vizards to my heart,
Disguising what they are.
False face hide what the false heart knows.
From a dream, I hear a shout; a loud one
But hear it not, the dreamer; for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven or to hell
For sleep is the cousin of death
Which keeps the face pale as lights thickens,
The crow flies away to the rooky wood.
Nights black agents rouse to their preys.
As a dreamer wakes unannounced from nightmare
And eats his meal in fear
Sleeping in the affliction of those terrible dreams
That shakes him nightly.
The torture of the mind which maketh lie
In restless ecstasy...
My virtues will plead like Angels trumpet-tongued.
Upon the sightless winds
Shall blow the realities (of life) in every eye,
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature gives way to in repose.
Innocence & pity like a naked new born baby
Striding the blast or heavens cherubim riding on an horseback
Then arose to escape the thrills of the instant
Living a coward you ones own esteem.
And I asked: is it nights predominance or days shame?
But knowing where my path leads to; I follow my journey
Even when the dark night strangles my travelling lamp.
Would nature hold God's benison from those
That would make good of bad and friends of foes?
Maybe with vivacious or flushed face, we all go to the grave
After life's fitful fever, we sleep well
And be not disturbed, nothing touches us further.
Just like a possessive man trust are their great grandmothers
He sleeps well not, because six feet of solid earth
Hath not keep her permanently underground.
She would creep out - so many Lazaruses from the grave
But after the dead which goes to peace
And at the end, hears a voice cast from pure gold, calling
Heaven or hell, the book chooses
Even he who was left unwept, untombed,
A rich sweet sight for the hungry birds beholding
Leaves for a permanent and eternal home.
Get set.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright ©2009.
I saw you leave for a trip of discovery
I saw your face alight with such enthusiasm and delight.
You set off, to explore the world around you
***
While you were gone, I witnessed the utmost betrayal to you
From the man, whom in a few short months, were going to exchange vows of forever love
I watched in horror as the events laid out
Dark and cold swirled around Me, clouding my judgment, making me crave the kill
***
You came back from the trip, so happy. I felt sick knowing I was about to destroy you
I opened my arms to embrace the cold and darkness, to over come me so I can go for the kill
I sat you down
I showed you the proof
Those minutes seemed like an eternity
I saw when your world turned upside down, inside out
I saw your heart and soul shatter in your eyes
It was then that the darkness left, and I cried with you, for it’s a pain I know all to well
Though amped for it is you that is going though this
A pain I would take forever just so you do not know it’s lingering existence
***
Your screams and cries howled from your oozing wounds, shaking to the core
You ran and enclosed your self in what use to be your sanctuary, but now nothing but ruins of lies
I sat on the opposite end, listening to those howls and fade away to them
***
After part of the storm of your chaos let up,
I went and saw you. I went and said my final piece:
“It will hurt, it will hurt so bad and you’re life will never be the same. You’ll never be able to trust so carefree, you’ll second guess everything but most importantly yourself. Those wounds will scar and be a forever reminder on your frail heart. Those wounds though, will be gorgeous and you should bare them. They are your battle marks, they will make you stronger in time. My precious darling, my adoring sister, please don’t let him put a veil over your eyes, don’t let him mask the beauty of life. Don’t let him cover your flame of passion. He is nothing more than a speck of dust flowing in the wind, do not make that dust ground you, center you. You will heal, you will conquer and destroy, and you will rise to be almighty and glorious once more, for this will pass. When you don’t feel that you can stand on your own, I’ll be there for you to lean, I will help carry you on. I’ll forever be there to help you fight if you so wish. I love you”
I left this for you my sister, my most precious friend
Form:
To You, I’d used to address my man covered with grime
Poetry was space of style and dressing that I fill
Panicked, incapable, feared loosing rhymes
I thought once: my language of filling fell ill
Even now as I’m struggling to unclothe You, I’m still wrong
With more confusion, madness I dress you like a spruce
Well, I have a first why (readers) added to your hurried Whys
I’m confused and nothing can ease me like rhymes
Why I keep writing, if I still can’t say who I’ am? ain’t that an abuse?
Well, there is always place for questions and I have the all night long
Questions are human’s one n only answer: don’t know.
All answers are just veiled questions. Time’s up for covers to blow
Time to be free of answers, no more questions to conceal
Only questions can turn out truth: new answer? Misguided again, I feel
Watch the oceans, winds and desert, in silence life goes on
Watch whales, birds, and ants with no answers at all
Speaking to life with life not with foolish words
Life can’t be judged by the language of best and worst
Yes, the oceans told me that life wasn’t written in a book
Nor sang in a song or pictured in a film because life was alive
Life wasn’t death to talk about with known pain to brook
Life was alive speaking to us like sun : inviting roses to thrive
Why? Why Should I wake few hours later, living meanings of life?
Why shouldn’t I go: swim with whales, work with ants n fly with birds
Why should I take a picture from an angle which never recreates life?
Why, should I learn languages, while I could be part of the picture, speaking language of worlds?
if I could speak life, I wouldn’t fear loosing rhymes! Or needed to address you my man
Because I’ll be you and you’ll be me, I won’t need stupid words anymore
No poetry, no descriptions, no judgment, no ‘wisdom’, no answers
Only love of life, love that can never be expressed or released with pen
All those questions I posed were only first mumbles, I guess
Tomorrow, I’ll pose no more questions, I’ll simply say to life ‘yes’
Then I’ll speak life like birds n ants, celebrating life is the only thing to remember
Only then, I can speak life, shouting not mumbling and knowing for sure that my saying(this last one) is answer!!!!
A PROUD AMERICAN
I see the flag that’s flying high, I hear our anthem sung,
I see a soldier dressed so fine, I hear a bell that’s rung.
I hear applause and see them stand as a man walks down the aisle,
The President of this land of ours; he stops to wave and smile.
I read about election day, and there my ballot cast;
Important issues, candidates by majority are passed.
I see the ones who risk their lives to save from tragedy,
And then the ones who come behind to offer sympathy.
I see the steeples rising high proclaiming worship time;
The bells chime out the hymns and then their words come to my
mind.
I listen to the music that portrays a battle won
And feel the goosebumps as the cry of victory is sung.
I read the speeches of great men who have a vision great
For this dear land that we call home, these our United States.
I see the care that some still have for those who have it bad,
I can’t watch and not shed a tear when a child hugs his dad.
I see the decorations bright, the lights of Christmas cheer
And hear the carols that ring out that special time of year.
I travel down the highways and enjoy the scenic view
And marvel at the many things we have to see and do.
It’s such a great land where I live, and I am still quite proud
To say that I’m American and say it clear and loud.
I’d be lots prouder, that’s for sure, if all who love this land
Would simply just remember how this nation once was planned
To be a country full of faith, of people pure and just,
Who came to build a country free and say, “In God we trust.”
That phrase is on our money still, but I wonder if it’s there
To say our god is money and we trust its cures and care.
I know that there is much dissent among minorities
Who somehow feel they are deprived of their right to be free.
The libertarians, the gays, the NOW, the ACLU
All seem to have their own ideas of what we ought to do,
But there is only one right way, there’s only one true plan
To bring us where we need to be as proud Americans:
We must give God His place again, turn from our wicked ways
Before we face His judgment hand and see His angry gaze.
If people of this land of ours do not to God turn soon,
There’s nothing more we can hope for but judgment and our doom.
I know for sure that once we give God His place once again,
That we will glad and thankful be, and proud Americans.
Loneliness
He sits at the table and watches the shoppers walk by
There aren’t many seats here, his half-hour limit’s long past
As one by one each worker chats with him; they know this guy
He offers them something for which they could never have asked
Is he all alone but for these times where these grocery carts
Roll blind past this spot where store patrons with sandwiches sit
How much does it matter: he touches the store workers’ hearts
As he in time opens his heart to them too, bit by bit
We need much more than loose companionship: each needs someone
Moment to moment – if you neglect this basic need
And find yourself lulled fast asleep in the Florida sun
The others who share the beach with you will pay you no heed
Your skin that was once yearning warmth having found itself burned
Though long you’d been caught in the thought that you hardly had much
Real need for another – your heart was blocked till you discerned
The pain forcing you to withdraw your own wound-healing touch
Loneliness thus begets loneliness through lack of flow
Leaving society toxic and cold, though aren’t we
Some of the most social creatures: you think we would know
Given the size of our brains that we’ll never be free
To live in our grand isolation – say is it not sad
That we who’ve accomplished so much remain cruelly alone
In safety behind our four walls or four doors, for we’ve had
So many a fear we may act like our hearts are of stone
Most folks are either religious or distant, I think
Though there sure is joy in connecting with someone untamed
If you can sell such on your pat ideas, you may well drink
One and all from the same cup; how could instinct be blamed
For scorn and exclusion of real individualists
Don’t we know strangers whose ways of life cause them to be
Left to themselves with their thoughts – why they’d hardly be missed
That’s why it’s trouble to live as a visionary
He sits at the table: what is he, a healer a saint
Or maybe Kieslowski’s calm witness of silent insight
Observing the Decalogue unfold without the least taint
Of any least judgment, since all of us know our own plight
If you would engage him in talk would you hear unique thoughts
Or would you yet cover him up in the news of the day
And squelch him clear out with a barrel of shoulds woulds and oughts
So leave him there lonely since he’ll never know you that way
~ Thanks Always Returns
Faith is a warm, hooded coat whose
Furry softness provides a barrier
From the icy blasts of cold-hearted people
Who are jealous of the embrace a well-constructed winter garment provides for its wearer, me.
Love bids me open my coat and offer it
To the filthy stranger with an empty bottle of booze
And a tattoo of a pentagram, with a skull inside.
So I hand him the coat and say, "From Jesus because He loves you."
Truth provides me another coat, and one to spare
Because giving away our faith is the best way to multiply it.
And I look for more truth, and see Jesus across the crowd.
He is giving His coat to a man who tightly clings to the hand of another man.
Christianity bids me to give my extra coat
To the boyfriend of the man who just received his.
My call, my mission, to be like Christ, and
I share my coat, my faith, with anyone left out in the cold by The Religious. I cannot pick and choose.
Sin is a reality I live with. I see it everyday.
In my mirror. It is everywhere. And it sickens me.
Yet still I sin and sin again, ashamed of my inability to live a standard
Worthy of the Son of God who knows my name.
Grace is the tiny sip of water you take when you have been in the desert too long.
Slowly you trust that it is no mirage, and you drink from the well
Feeling yourself replenished, rehydrated, reborn.
Everything that was awful in the place you were before is better, washed away by the purity of the water offered freely.
Freedom is knowing that your job is not to identify the wanderers in the desert
But to introduce everyone to the well.
Offer them that free sip that will change their lives as it did yours,
Knowing that you are in no way better than any of these seekers except that you, by some miracle, are allowed to sip from the cup of grace everyday.
Hope paints in my heart a picture of warmth,
Sunlight, people, everyone wearing their faith, knowing the truth, and loving Christ.
Hate is the cold wind, the whispered rumor, the whitewashed judgment that has no place here.
This is a place where we walk not only like, but with Jesus.
Regret is waking to find that you are no longer where you were before.
This new place is hot, not like a sauna, but like the sun itself.
It is dark, and you feel no welcome, no recognition, no love.
You want to speak to the man in charge, but know it's too late.
Where does my conscious go, when demons raise their fiery eyes,
They steal my very soul, killing all which is sanctified,
Engulfed by instant fears, no longer hearing loved ones cries,
The beast within appears, telling me I am justified,
I have already lost, no reprieve from my mortal sin,
All reason now is blocked, as I become the beast within,
No pity can I feel, as I make my grandiose stand,
Yes the horror is real, as I destroy all that I can,
Where do my feelings go, when demons raise their snarling lips,
Bringing an all new low, into my life now torn to bits,
Certain of being right, I flail and thrash as if in fits,
I threaten and I strike, with great fury the demon spits,
Yet I still stand and shout, my ugly hate and derision,
Accusing lies said out loud, revolting words - degradation,
Just look at what I’ve done, I scream my blatant confession,
Ready to blame anyone, for my evil molestation,
Where does my true love go, when demons raise their gruesome head,
Destroying all I know, without slightest hesitation,
There is no where to hide, hideous deeds - infinite dread,
Shame crushes senseless pride, nothing left but devastation,
Recoiling in horror, reality enters the room,
Now begins the torture, judgment of my now mortal soul,
The evil that is me, my conscious has become my tomb,
I look and all I see, marks my spirit and takes its toll,
Where does salvation go, when demons raise their awful screech,
Making damnation grow, as dark shadows envelope me,
How can I persevere, and escape from this demon’s reach,
For he is always near, and may kill eventually,
Cold and chilling insight, I now realize what is at stake,
And the one path which might, protect the ones I truly love,
But how can I just leave, this world I worked so hard to make,
And cause even more grief, for family and God above.
Where does my resolve go, when demons raise their deadly claws,
Tearing at all I know, stealing my conscious care and pride,
I can’t run anymore, all is destroyed everything lost,
Now beaten tired and sore, I’ve lost my path into the light,
Who can I reach out to, when all I love recoil in fear,
Eyes beseech black and blue, where once was love - now only hate,
Yes I know - I’m the cause, the reason for each falling tear,
And while demons give pause, I must face my terrible fate.
Form:
I wrote this about the recent passing of my mother, Annette. She was a rock, kind and
loving, my confidant and best friend - a Godly woman. I miss her already, deeply.
She died on January 24th, 2009 at 10:30 p.m. due to complications of a UTI that went
septic through her system, and a blood clot that formed in her foot. She suffered and
painfully fought for three weeks... she was facing multiple amputations of all her limbs
and multiple organ failure. She was only 61.
My heart was imprinted greatly with her love and I am thankful for her. She made me so
much of who I am today.
Letting Go
by Amy Swanson
Letting go
of things that I
once held dear, believed in
My soul
stripped bare
in agony, for all the world to see
Heart beats
yet
it feels so cold inside
Silence
sits like stone
in my spirit.
Life has led us
on this
journey...
but one lonely road
sought us out with furious speed;
A road that was not wanted or desired.
How can you
be so accepting?
How can you
not be angry, as I am?
How can you
... still believe?
...and how will I
ever again believe...?
I feel as though life took a wrong turn...
or someone didn't write the script correctly...
it wasn't supposed to be this way.
I weep
great sobbing tears
that threaten to rip out my very essence
The pain so sharp
like knives of ice
The judgment harsh
unfair and undeserved
Sternly....
mercilessly...
delivered.
They say that there is peace in death
but there was none
only cruel suffering
that should not have been allowed;
torment inflicted
poor bruised body
until
so still you lay...
life was no more.
I ask, "What meaning can there be?"
I strain to hear the answer
but there is no response...
only unwavering silence.
A part of me will never be the same.
Existence I now view with different eyes.
It all began as my wife and I were attending a
state fair. My wife had joined with a friend,
and the two of them sought their interest and
fantasies. I simply wandered about from one booth
to another until I came upon a gentleman painting
on a canvas. It caught my interest when he sighted
and made eye contact with me about 8 feet away.
Suddenly, I was taken aback as it would appear that
He began painting a picture of me. From a blank canvas,
he proceeded to paint at a pace I had never seen and began
with a FOREHEAD covered with aging lines and sweat.
The sheer sight of that forehead brought drops of
sweat to my forehead.
There seems to have been a prophetic link between
the painter, the canvas, and myself, uniting us like
the confluence of rivers.
Little did I expect that he would be painting a picture
of me. As he proceeded with great brevity and skill,
every aspect of the painting created a like-effect
on myself. As he continued, with watery EYES, he said
such eyes portrayed my own, filled with cares and burdens
of hurting people.
The EARS he painted were larger than normal and embraced
with signs seen only by those needing to speak in confidence
to a trusted one. The tired, weary, and lonely souls knew
that the ears were special and designed to listen to their
cries of neglect and pain; to their disappointment, mistakes,
and misfortunes.
As the painter began with a normal-looking NOSE, he assured me
that the nose was lightyears from normality because it was equipped,
not to pass judgment on the sins of mankind, but to filter what came
through it. And like a tree taking in carbon dioxide and giving out oxygen, such was the nose of my own that he painted.
Lastly, the talented and prophetic painter paused and stared at me
just before starting on the MOUTH. There were no critical words of
caution from him or the mouth he painted. Notwithstanding, unspoken
words flowed into my heart and soul, igniting a change in the way and
tone of my speech. I was therefore informed that my lips of dust must henceforth release more words of divine love.
Not all of our lives are like a box of chocolate, never knowing what we
are going to get. Sometimes, God unveils the essence of our lives in mysterious ways. In my case, it is a 'never-ending story'. But it started
with a blank canvas.