Long Mistakes Poems
Long Mistakes Poems. Below are the most popular long Mistakes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mistakes poems by poem length and keyword.
Dad was teaching in the Pacific Northwest
My twin and I were sixteen years old
We were isolated, self image not the best
But as far as adventure, we were bold.
So we took backpacks, my brother and I
Walked up a feeder, anticipation felt fine
Set up camp at six thousand feet high
Planned to run 40 miles on the timberline.
The day started misty, I led the way.
Then we realized the path didn't exist
We descended on scree, an hour gone away
He cursed, but we jogged in the mist.
My sneakers started hurting, blisters made me howl.
My twin was angry, I kept emitting a yelp.
I was ready to give up, throw in the towel.
But a second wind came, like an angel with help.
The day was epic, so much packed in.
I let out screeches, my brother a groan.
But scenic glory turned a scowl to a grin.
We came close to success, but mistakes took the throne.
The blue hour came, the fading hours
Rose light on the snow, like a caress
We'd gone through rivers, and forests and flowers
Ridges turned violet, light died in the West.
Five miles left to camp, but to no avail:
The night fell like a boulder on a cave.
We had no flashlights, couldn't see the trail.
We froze all night, but my twin forgave.
The stars were bright, an awesome sight
You remember the good, not the pain
The Indian paintbrush, the changing light
and gratitude that it didn't rain.
We packed up our tent, in a subdued hush
Ran into bear cubs going downhill.
Their mom was a coward; she ran into the brush.
So we're still here, for good, or for ill.
So what do you learn when nature is stern:
And you don't emerge unscathed?
Sometimes you touch fire, but you don't burn
And the glow of adventure is saved.
UNITED
Conflict within my own mind,
Not knowing where to stand.
Deciding to take the time
To research and understand.
One must, when one aligns,
With one team or the other,
Walk a mile in their shoes,
To feel how they must suffer.
Every choice made by me
Filters through my faith.
Not what man says is True,
being fallible, we make mistakes.
God has granted us freewill
With every road we walk...
To the right or to the left,
A choice is what we want.
Our forefathers fought and died
On bloody battlefields...
To earn the right to decide
To pursue happiness and freewill.
Both ideals I look up to,
The standard I fall back on
The laws of God and laws of man
Will not lead me wrong.
Everyone of us has the right
To decide what truth really is.
If we think to limit this,
To my truth alone,
We steal the right for which we fight
To have our choice condoned.
For everything we take from them,
We are stealing from ourselves...
The right to choose is a gift
For us and them as well.
Who are we to say they can't,
When God says that they can?
He is the only one who knows
the heart, and the thoughts of man.
And when it comes to differences,
Race, gender, class, and more,
When Jesus died to save our lives
Those differences are now ignored!
For we become one in Christ
If we love Him and take his hand…
So divided we will surely fall
But united, now, we stand.
First I took right, very smooth
Love by majority
Then I took left, very dark
Only the brave and strong strive here
Because you got to be the light
So you can shine while striving
Then I took time to observe
I saw my past behind and the future ahead
Then I choose to remain present
Because I can't go to the past
I can't forcefully manifest the future either.
Things in the past
Steadily stealing my attention
Causing distractions
Disrupting my focus towards the future
But I'm so dynamic
Saying to myself always
I didn't come this far
To settle for the least but the best.
Many times I move correctly
Sometimes wrongly
My mindset my redeemer
Whenever I move wrongly
My instinct always revives me
That's why I always trust my guts
Making adjustments as soon as possible
Always responsible for my mistakes
Not find who to blame or make lame.
I caress the black
leaning into its soft
velvet hold, hoping
to blind the agony
but,
the reflection of my sadness
overwhelms and sickens
I swallow nails with each gulp
food carries the stench of death
uncaring of a torn psyche
I continue to look back
searching my mistakes
rehashing every word
with each glance at our end
a slice of sanity is lost
and consistently shaking
my anchor is breaking loose
I dream into nothingness
becoming a lost beggar
who can never come home
for it is barren and bare
profound truth eludes me
despair cloaks me in ashes
as my sight ebbs to fade
I begin to slide away
I awake to each breathless day
in the realm of the forgotten
lying with the shredded ribbons
of my love scattered to ground
this long endless night
echoes with silent howls
and the dripping tears
bled from my crucified heart
in this self-made prison
I am now living death alone
Yes, alright, enough!!
Your point has been made
Keep nagging and keep that up
And I think I'll go slowly but completely insane
Stop pointing to all my faults
Stop making me feel like I'm going down the drain
Stop whispering your negativity into my soul
I wish I could shut you up but somehow you always remain
I'm here, I'll stand and get up
I've made mistakes and done things I'm not proud of - that will always remain
I'll accept that I'm flawed in so many ways
But that don't give you the right to be such a pain
I'm looking at you right now, you hide behind the eyes of my pain
In the inside of your cycle of life, in the inside of your domain
The outside faces this life and takes it on full strain
You get carried around, you get to judge without refrain
I'm shutting you down right now, I concentrate through the eyes to see your disdain
I'm shutting you down right now
I'm shutting you down right now
I'm taking back full control of this brain.
It’s the study of our past,
the entirety of events that made us who we’ve come to be…
but I’ve come to think we made a mistake by calling it ‘History’.
History is not only the good…but the bad we’ve done…
for there is a lesson to be learned from each…
and no one person or group
should get to pick and choose which history we teach.
When men and women choose to omit from our history books
events they don’t want us to know…
how will we ever learn from our mistakes…
how will we ever grow?
When a man chronicling past events
decides to omit parts because he has the power…
essentially what we’re learning is his rendition of the past…
His story…not ours
And history should not just be his story…
it’s your story, it’s her story, it’s their story…it’s mine…
It’s everything experienced by everyone…
since the dawn of time.
Our history is not only filled with triumphs and joy…
it’s filled with sorrow, abuses and fear…
These should also be taught
even though….NO precisely because…they are so hard to hear.
If we don’t teach how onto our fellow humans
we’ve inflicted pain, suffering and heartbreak
there is a real possibility (just look around!)
future generations will make the same mistakes.
So, I think we should change the name from His-story to Our-story
The story of our country…
every group…
every religion…
every person…
every race…
not the way some think it should be taught…
but what actually took place
...or In One Ear and Out to the Bridge Club...
Everybody likes a little gossip,
Everybody likes to hear a bit of dirt.
It brightens conversations,
And arouses shocked sensations,
And might cause some mild vexations,
But should never, never, never ever hurt.
What the neighbors do should be nobody's business,
It's not your fault if they don't keep their curtains drawn.
Besides, you're reasonably sure
That's what binoculars are for,
And if you hide behind your door,
What you can see them do by them is never known.
The Browns across the street are having problems,
He's been sleeping on the couch since New Year's Eve.
It seems those last two business trips
Involved some extra-marital "slips".
You're not adept at reading lips,
But gossip needn't be precise to be believed.
Yes, everybody likes a little gossip
To discuss at lunch, or brunch, or over tea.
To be aware of the mistakes
That almost everybody makes
Is all the skill and guile it takes
To be a gossiper, and not a gossipee.
Even it is painful to see my country
I keep my inner wounds within myself
Because bad people love to put salt
In a wounds place for ointment
Envy hurt people's feeling
They inflect sadness instead of joy
This makes people hate each other
Too much intelligence sometimes makes leaders crazy
They don't want spokesman for themselves
He wants to manage his own political affairs by himself
But when he gets wrong he blame his opponent in doing so
Putting ill mannered-mistakes to make white to black
Or black to white and shared to the people as sentiments
The fabricated lies to others broadcast to sensationalizing
Silent dictatorship choke the people to revolution
Flowing the street with dissatisfaction with anger
People shouting for peace, propaganda and rage
Toppling the current administration to step out
But the Devil is holding power, money and influence
To hell with you people as the crocs said
Wait for the next election no more
Conniving powers from three branches is democracy
This is authoritarianism, silent martial law period
The leftist is silent for they are inception to cohort
Became the attack dog to the good politician
Money really hide what is decency and truth
The oligarch are profiting all the favor
Their business flourish in high degree price hike
The consumers are nowhere to protest the abuses
Where are the justice now, where are we fighting for
Where are our the generals, the defender of the masses
They are silent, money is the facemask to their mouth
I wonder where progress seen, good governance will be
I wonder why, I can cry is silence, gnashing my teeth
I wonder where the patriots will seek patronage
Where would the ordinary people will find solace
Where will my next generation hold its strength
Where will our nation take pride for independence
Where will our politician become our true leader
When will God intervene the affairs of men
Where will my people end its suffering, please tell me when.
The shock of betrayal
left you devastated,
and angry with the whole world.
But forgiveness is a part of love:
a truth gleaned from failed relationships.
Love is elastic;
and it can stretch beyond past mistakes
while leaving plenty of room for self.
The choices we make are ours:
yet the lessons learned belong to fate.
You're but a half soul, wandering through life
seeking to find
your missing half.
Hope can outshine the brightest sun,
painting life with a rainbow of light.
And love fuels a kaleidoscope of colors
that feel like magic,
fulfilling forever dreams.
Breakups are painful, but not fatal,
heartaches fade with time:
and there will come a day,
when you'll find what you are looking for, and more.
I'm a retired policeman
Could find the hidden clue
Became a detective for hire
Gave me something to do.
Got a text from a man named Mark
looking for a friend named Kate.
Wanted me to overturn each stone
and to find her city, state.
I remembered Celia
The woman I'd lost
We'd broken up and gone our ways
And then I felt the cost.
So I thought I understood
What Mark was trying to do
I wanted to do all I could
To make that love renew.
He knew what she went to school for
What town she lived in then
But that was 40 years or more
No more clues, where, what, or when.
I tried to locate this dame
But it was very hard.
So long ago, a school, a name
Lots of wrong turns to discard
I sent him photos to his phone
They all shared her name
He was uncertain, didn't know
My searching seemed in vain
Then I stumbled on something,
A detail and a thread,
Followed it and finally
Was sure where it led.
Told him I could call her
Give a message he could write
Then the plot got thicker
It got me real uptight.
He said he'd leave her alone
She wasn't really his old flame
Knowing her was traumatic
Knowing her was pain.
He said that she's in Utah
Not where he thought she'd be
He'd been wrong on his deductions
had left reality.
I thought he was crazy,
sorry I had located Kate
Hoped I hadn't done harm
Hoped it wasn't too late
I sent a message to her
Explained what Mark had tried
She laughed it off uncertainly
But underneath she cried.
Mark texted me again
He said a Mafia gassed him through the air
I informed his local police
My duty, I had to share.
Mark's madness remains
He wants to save you too
He warns of drugs that change the brain
The man has gone cuckoo.
As for me I'm now a painter
Draw pictures by the sea
Leaving PI was a no-brainer
Can't do harm with artistry.