Long Marked Poems
Long Marked Poems. Below are the most popular long Marked by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Marked poems by poem length and keyword.
Terror lurks in the darkened eyes of a growing child
As each minute she dips into the shrieks from her mama, 25;
Marked dad curled in silence on the ground, wanting life,
Marked by another man who’d barely seen seasons 25.
She recalls how daddy cried out and fell silent to the ground.
Mum recoiled at many punches many staunch “men” had found.
She was 4 back then, and saw as men 12-year olds from out of town
As they ripped her mama’s clothes…she closes her eyes, counting each heart pound.
She recalls that red stream that slithered to her hidden corner
Soaking her skirt; soaking in hurt like staring at the sun’s corona.
Outside guns rattled, taking out all who could mourn her.
Lonely, the tears trickled down slowly, spelling “Were’t I wasn’t born, Ah!”
Slowly the tears trickled down that lonely jaw…
“Jane”, cried the professor, “What’s the result of this mixture?”
Jane knew not what was before, she stood there distraught.
She wishes she could do better, but her past sticks in the picture.
(c) Nyonglema
*"Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths." Proverbs 3:5-6 of King James Bible
Claiming God’s favor everyday
My soul does seek heavenly ray…
Divine flame functionally shines
And faith beholds miracle signs.
Scheduled plans, though prayed for truly
Sometimes can change so suddenly
Causing angst, confronting my role…
Yet flame of peace comforts the soul.
As internet glitches cause frown
Bringing stress from toes toward crown…
My frustration angsts escalate
Then child laugh-flame makes woes deflate.
Health conscious --- that’s me, I confess
Treating self with gracious duress…
When I get sick, body does rest
Needing strength flames toward work zest.
When busy midst tasks to fulfill
Adrenalin ascends uphill…
Phone rings for a chat delightful
Marked by “The Lord is so faithful.”
With interference-radiance
By the Holy Ghost’s sweet guidance…
I’m preserved, so well-protected
Thankful, sublimely elated.
Listening to the Scriptures preached
My spirit is ardently reached
Since the Lord talks to me, His child
Leading through love, graciously styled
Flame of hope for tenacious stand
Keeps me warm daily in God’s hand
Showing goodness of Almighty
I trust* upon truth’s certainty.
June 22, 2023
1st place, "Writing Challenge - F Words" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 6/23/2023.
I look back to yesterday's sadness
Marked by tears not allowed to spill
A smile plastered on a perpetual nightmare
Dreaming of how my life should have been
Marked by tears not allowed to spill
Screams from within muffled by salt water
Dreaming of how my life should have been
In the distance my eyes see dry land
Screams from within muffled by salt water
My life preserver tight around my neck
In the distance my eyes see dry land
Expectations beyond this my misery
My life preserver tight around my neck
I must release the straps and swim away
Expectations Beyond this my misery
I struggle to reach freedoms shore
I must release the straps and swim away
My dream is but a few strokes in the distance
I struggle to reach freedoms shore
With each stroke I become much stronger.
My dream is but a few strokes in the distance
Away from a smile plastered on a perpetual nightmare
With each stroke I become much stronger
I look back to yesterday's sadness
poems this mine here else often lists
economical text much inferred
few words fewer articles prepositions conjunctions sometimes needed
rhymes or not
short but slowing fast world trick make think
visual poems stolen cummings
is new question un marked re able
s pa
ce s
runonswhereeveryfit together
i don't know how you know
it's yours now
maybe makes much sense war
98% genocide
rev wright was right
possible not since rexulti
kill bear with ukraine cannon fodder
so iran can't stop merrikkael turning gaza
gehenna turning resort luxury hotels casinos
offshore oil rigs election want blame drumpf
but have zero credibility ever after praising president credit cards and truancy warden
go ahead watch strait hormuz raise inflation
like when merrika blew nordstream blame other monster
They fly around our streets in packs
We see them lurking almost every day
Don’t misjudge them in time or place
Or there will be more than hell to pay
Their beady eyes don’t miss a trick
Yellow jackets hover like pesky flies
One minute late and they will sting
The fine will be paid in painful cries
Arrive at your car in plenty of time
Don’t get there with a second to spare
Your car is marked, and they will swoop
Those yellow jackets make people swear!
Inspired after seeing two parking wardens in our village today.
(In the UK the traffic wardens wear black and yellow jackets)
08-31-17
There is a need for quietness today,
I listen to my neighbor's toilet flush,
it takes a long time for the sound
to drain away and refill,
I hold seconds inside my mind
between that rise and fall.
There is space for listening,
the trash compactor chews on
when switched off.
I hear conversations
filtering through the air conditioner,
words both distinct and garbled.
Yesterdays hurried meal
speaks still, moments explore
newly opened pocket.
This is not silence
sound moves upon carpet slippers,
yet steps are heightened
by being audible
in a lower registry of depth.
It is I who creates this lengthening,
this processional unwinding of
of unremarkable moments,
a distance between
and marked by blank labels -
every note,
an eavesdropping deliverance.
From the rising sun in the east
To casted shadows after dark in the west,
Our tribal marked faces show,
A timeless story, aglow.
Seasons come and go,
Hiding shades and dimmed sparks.
Beneath the sprawling swamps,
Cornering meandered mangroves,
Our roots run deep,
Anchored in attires of legacy.
Our heads see without light,
Guided by old wisdom unspoken.
Truth and strength wrap us,
Like leaves hiding the stem,
This binding keeps us to mother earth,
Fatherland, and to each other.
The river Nun whispers
Future tales of our past,
Her ebb and flow carry songs of joy,
Of resilience, of hope.
Wells oiled to bustle with life,
Echoing voices of a southern people united,
Crafting stories with each fishing net,
With each catch and harvest,
With each chant that shakes the air.
We stand with one another,
As trees in a forest,
Strong and steadfast,
Each branch reaching,
Each leaf singing,
Together in harmony,
Brothers and sisters fit to guide,
The new call of the river Nun.
Life passed, within an eye’s blink, like a reflection of Narcissus on a death pool;
A lover of a hypnotic time, a withering away in the end. Fossilized glory of a fool.
Silence heard the river of words;the words listened to the sound of the fullest brim,
Moonlight dipped in the shades of sky, and that tasted more like the ego of a whim.
Premature death was marked in French. Followed by a friendly comment,
Pas de problème! All news will be good news on a single, special moment!
Verdicts take too long a time to fix typos when judges are getting ready to pray.
Life turns in full swing. Too late a moon to conceal the break-out of another day!
A toddler teaches a sound of a typo, in a solid sermon of preach.
A strict timeline to heed the call of a preferred way to the screech!
This pattern should surely follow the cosmos to greet back the comet, Halley.
The myth of a narcissus flower goes on; pining moments in a masterpiece of Dali.
How often do I hide in thick layers
of parading masks-- afraid to reveal
the hardened ego which denies
a vanity ruled by a sordid past -
those matriarchal flaws, cracks from
violence, and lesions of snuffed anger
marked by wired illusions
over time's unhealed grievances.
I smile with resistance existing
through fragile acquaintances to escape
light's awakening that could lead
me out of life's pretenses.
So I hover drearily on bloody nights
and run to the woods in search of sages,
even wise thieves , who could give me
refuge from this soul going imaginary-
but my darkened mind lies, asking
"pride, how treacherous or precious are you?"
Russell Sivey Contest: In The Dark
Created 14.09.2017
Footwear and a mendicant
After going to several shoe shops, I found shoes that fitted me
happy, I walked along and saw a woman sitting on the pavement
begging, she looked old for her age severely marked by poverty.
I stopped and looked for change; I didn’t have any, the woman
waited, what to do now?
I could not walk past, like not noticed this wretched soul
I gave her a note of ten euros and cursed myself, but it triggered
a memory from my childhood.
Mother had gone into a shop she had stamps to buy woollen socks
nylon socks were for the rich; a lady walked past, saw my holed
tennis shoes my brother had outgrown.
She went into a shoe shop, came out with a pair of black shoes
gave them to me, they fitted perfectly; I couldn’t wait
showing them to the children on our road.
Mother came out in her hands had the woolly socks,
I showed mother my shiny shoes; take them off, she said and
put the tennis shoes on the new shoes are for Sundays only.