Long Misunderstanding Poems
Long Misunderstanding Poems. Below are the most popular long Misunderstanding by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Misunderstanding poems by poem length and keyword.
I have something precious that money cannot buy, no matter how hard you try to convince me that money can make me happy, I would be living a lie if I sit by your side without a dime in my purse and continue to work in the dirt, that is not what I mean, I need the money to fulfill a part of my dream but it cannot make me happy.
I still cannot believe that it is true, that you have searched the whole world through and you could not find a single one that you can understand, and when the nights gets cold you wrap a towel around your soul and walked out in the snow and let the night air penetrates your skin and somewhere in the universe, your soul mate is playing a different rhythm.
I just cannot hold back the tears, when I check your hang out spot and see that you are not there. I have waited so long for you to come and the daily wait makes me feel like a village on the run, wasted time cannot be regained and the long wait has cause me so much pain; I don’t know if I will ever live the life that I was destined to live, other than the life that has caused me so much pain and misery.
Sometimes I feel like a clown sailing between the clouds, moving from cities to town, avenues and streets singing songs of yesterday while I watch the people go astray and the clock keeps ticking away.
I have orbit the globe more than a hundred times, searching for something that is on my mind. I think about it from time to time and I just cannot erase it from my mind. Shall I wait for you here or shall I wait at another place, I have waited here from sunrise to sun down and still you have not come around, I no number to call or the address for the city hall, I will let nature follow the course and when the time I will go through the door and hold destiny by its hand.
I thought we had an understanding of a mutual deal in the making and the binding contract that cannot be broken, why am I still here waiting; there must have been some misunderstanding, if you listen carefully you can hear the musical strings singing they are in perfect harmony.
I will force myself from underneath the clouds and go out and buy some new clothes and change the place where I stay for a new promotion is coming my way. I will wait for a few more days and if you don’t come I will go my own way and I hope that we will cross path someday.
She was sold for three trillion dollars.
Greater Consciousness
08/17/2015
Imagine humankind in a future time
Could perceive each other’s mind.
What would it be like to do this thing
And the kind of world it would bring?
My insight of what would come about
Probably is sorely lacking no doubt.
But I will try in rhyme to give my take
Of how this will cause a human remake.
Could many brains make such a noise
That your psyche it destroys?
I very much hope and believe it would not
Be the result of so much thought.
Would politicians have to retire
No longer able to lie or conspire?
Could other crimes be in the past,
Criminals finally eliminated at last?
Would freedoms of expression be curtailed
By thought police with info very detailed,
Or would enlightenment reign so not a single jail
Or any form of bureaucracy would prevail?
Would war and armies be gone
Because humankind can easily get along
As misunderstanding and hatred of the other
Is not possible when in mind we’re together?
Would “I” and “me” disappear overnight
As we share all our thoughts forthright,
No longer needing the phone or internet
Would communications be very intimate?
Would science and arts be transformed
As all would be well informed
Of new ideas and concepts in their spheres
Pushing both rapidly toward new frontiers?
Could we travel through one another
Seeing the worlds beauty would we discover
A experience more than just virtual reality
Bringing us together as if one “nationality”?
Would privacy be dead
Every inner thought known unsaid
As we evolve and transform
Could this become part of a new norm?
Could we pickup thoughts of a dog
Or would they be sensed as if in a fog?
Would our perceptions of all life be different,
Much more connected and reverent?
Would we continue to speak,
And if not would it change our physique,
Leaving the world silent, not a word said,
Except inside everyone’s head?
Imagine us beyond our current ken,
Could we finally reach our Zen,
Becoming a greater consciousness thru emergence
As a result of our mind convergence?
Contest:
Mystic Rose's NEW FRONTIERS OR GREATER CONSCIOUSNESS
Explanation:
Three major emergences are known–matter, life and consciousness.
Could we reach a fourth emergent state poorly defined as "godhood" in the west or possibly better defined as enlightenment or awakening as in Buddhism?
Stuff your rock stars, your heros, your christs,
your anti-christs and anarchiests.
Stuff your false idols up your ****.
Stuff your regenerative ramblings;
the spiel of a million others
spilt in diluted misunderstanding.
The generic rhetoric of another blank generation.
Born under the yoke of fashion not fascism
we walk a happy middle ground smiling contentedly.
Raised, sightless, in the sickly glow
of TV screens and neon lights.
Suckled by the fast food empires
and the bloodied abattoir's's carcasses.
Supping the milk of human blindness
with the blood of fallen beasts.
Schooled in paranoia and conformity
through magazines and film.
Body over brain! Body over brain!
Don't feed either if you want to fit in
to society or size sixteen jeans.
Passive skeletal expectancies rule over all.
We are over-looked and yet watched over;
Monitored through cameras and stolen information,
watched on screens by perverts and bigots
watched for signs of difference and dissent:
word gets around and gets arrested.
Incarcerated. Gone inside. Turned inside out.
I have always relied upon the kindness of strangers.
Spayed to the point of mental impotence:
no longer threatening. Hope is dead.
Driven as slaves into factories, offices, banks,
working to gain enough to "buy" what is already ours:
ownership as proof of existence.
I consume therefore I am.
Ownership of possessions and of people.
Taught to repress desire, to plough the rut of our parents.
Mate Spawn and Die.
Breeders laugh in mock pleasure behind picket fences.
There is safety for us all in our collective clichés.
The pursuit of pleasure becomes confused
through labour and labour saving devices
then drowned in alcohol and soap.
Happiness becomes vague comfort and escape:
Ignorance is bliss and bliss is easy.
Pre-packaged rebellion under state supervision
rattling shackles and throwing toys from prams.
Socilalists singing sweet songs of false hopes
an alternative repressive ownership,
punks so bereft of individuality repeat to infinity
even the intelligent ones just want to be another dick.
All grow old and sick together
having furthered the species and the empire,
return to the organic matter from whence we came
or perhaps ground up and fed to the pork and beef
down at Old (Ronald) McDonald's farm that we all love so much........stuffed
Form:
In the thicket forgotten of deeply anchored thoughts,
Where ideas nest, across time and tailored spaces,
There I stand, guardian of the undimmed realm, the archivist of the flame
That knows not extinguishing in the beating winds of history,
Guarding the pure light that does not fracture from darkness.
Shadow does not frighten me, in the tumultuous whirl of the ephemeral moment,
The virility of my pen is the bastion safe from political venom,
In my fortress of books, ideas, and eternally glimpsed dreams,
A candle of knowledge, a lighthouse piercing the fog of despair,
And my intellect, a fleet that can quench the thirst of the abyss.
I am the knight battling the windmills of forgetfulness and ignorance,
At war with the shadows that attempt to speak of present suppression,
A country does not parade its grandeur in the fleeting plays of political stages,
But in the echo it leaves through a waltz of creative genius in the world's libraries,
Through art, science, and the poetry whispered by blossoming briar circles.
A nation does not stretch into the arms of death when it is defeated,
Nor embraces the poison when lords change or thrones waver,
But on the wings of those who walked through the subtle circles of thought,
They leave an endless imprint of the dream in the springs of eternity,
Weaving its chronicles, over centuries and wisdom its people grow.
And I, amongst waves of misunderstanding and barriers of indifference,
Submerged in creations that speak in languages only the stars comprehend,
I traverse the fine line between present and dreaming eternity,
I build from words a wall that no terrestrial battle can crumble.
I watch how politics spins like an old mill in the fickle wind,
But I keep my distance, with my quill dipped in eternal ink,
Agony and ecstasy, in a wondrous dance of knowledge,
Never forgetting that the sunrise from my mind is the rebirth of the world.
Beneath my intellectual hoard, with its invincible nature,
I warm centuries, illuminate unfoldings, and cultivate hope,
For, regardless of the whirlwind that beats at my gate,
I am master of my counsel and the dream I embrace.
Politics may haunt the streets and squares,
But the eternal plays in the laboratories of my tranquil mind,
Where I, the architect of this human sanctuary, undefeated,
Weaving eternity with my intellect, remain.
In the beginning
All I ever wanted to do is talk it over
But constantly getting the cold shoulder
Causes cold hopes
You made me feel like nothing inside
And egg with no yoke
You can't be mad forever
Eventually it'll all come spilling out
I just wanted to talk
But now we've embarked on 4 month drought
You'll forgive me and I'll be long gone
Don't have Motley message me
And don't go callin John
You'll be back
You'll be back
Me and John are calling that
I'll be filling up people's prescriptions
And you'll still be making Big Macs
What are you forgiving me for anyway
For getting to know you and taking the chance
While you spill your insecurities out about your eyes and tight pants
Are you forgiving me for making think outside the box and laugh
You telling me they was taking forever to remodel your bathroom
And you had to go over your sisters house and take a bath
Was i perfect...no
But that doesn't justify the petty lies
Do you know how many times I blamed myself
Do you know how many times i curled up and cried
I never said I ddnt care about you
But I realized that I have to move on and accept the end
I just wanna talk to carry on
At this point I don't wanna be your friend
I just wanna be cordial and have nothing to do with you
Searching for forgiveness
You act this is an episode of Blue Clues
And I'm tired of searching for the clues of the real you
I rather search for Steve and Magenta
It's just started off as a big misunderstanding
Now 4 months later we have a dilemma
I'm tired of guessing
And hurting
Since I can't talk to you
My tears have to be my spokesperson
Tears talk to
But you might not like what they have to say
Cause they'll be talking about you
Don't come back
Don't come back
My heart you broke that
And in the beginning all I wanted to do is chat
You kicked me outta your life
Left me looking dumb at the door mat
You would snarl at me when I was ringing the bell and knocking
So just walking away was kinda my only option
BevelynKaye said you need some coal in your stocking
Pieces of my broken heart I got stuck sweeping and moppin
From this situation I've cried, I've tried; heart died, matured, grew
When I'm gone I know for sure you'll miss me
Picking on me
Will I miss you...
But the real question is
Should I forgive you
I
are you ready to play with words and games of the soul....to bring out the
labyrinth that is within the sacred soul??
w/U absolutely
I can start with chimes of alter mimes within my alter rhyme
ok
a shoot of expectation....uprooting congregation....my own ramification of self
altercation...the way I fan the flame
the utmost juxtapose...the beginning of our game
gimme a word,though even if absurd....and I'll reply in time
YES
gimme a subject, and I'll congregate...verbs and nouns to subjagate...places to
fill with mynd
Love
love entangled, be it obtuse...let's say it's a caboose....of a place we may contain
I'll seclude it to a space, where we can't replace...where there can't be an easy
refrain...
more
gimme more...and I'll abhore more words and junctures to place within...I'm
waiting on a whim...the space I'll call " to win"
one word is all I ask.. and we'll drink upon the flask...together on the clouds...a
placement of feelings, fragments...a war of truth and wills
heart
a heart can only beat itself....like lonely Irish elfs....misunderstanding value...of
which way to go.;...the non = ending ebb and flow...I want to understand where
these feelings come from...
are they derived from lonliness or boredom...in the back room or corridor...a
package of the heart...where do feelings start?:
adjudication and frustration is what I feel constantly....the placement of my
feelings a continual
mystery...
I love the way U write, have I told U that?
am I manic or just a substantial panic - meister....can I ever kick this system in
the ****...thats what I want to observe...
I'm more intense in person...and I don't mean to make tensions worsen...I only
wish to widen the width of this scythe...
I like the way U talk
that is why I keep talking to U
Our lives are not immune to the impact of time,
nor is our mind between the tensions of love and hate.
That's why I curse this wanderlust heart -
still searching for that wandering star.
without a guide - without a love to call my own.
I try not to look back, but sometimes certain scents,
remind me of things that saw me as a minority.
A summer heart misplaced in winter's wickedness,
a child frozen in the passages of a stolen childhood.
Ingredients of my life are a juxtaposition of flavours,
finding purity among diseased hearts,
fighting against principles of corrupt minds
and I hurt nobody - until they pushed me,
it was never about the physical - but the mental.
Silence is different in adolescence -
suppressed into a protective bubble,
you reject the harshness of existence.
My small hands could not hold the burdens,
so I was mute as demons slayed my father,
his anger drowning my brothers into darkness.
Tears of my mother, dehydrated my soul,
so I grew like a tree with broken branches -
sometimes naked, sometimes an abundance of green.
Even in an obscure world of nightmares,
my heart was a light bulb, full of dreams -
but misplaced in a place of misunderstanding.
I adopted silence in the violence,
because I struggled with reality's fabrications.
Fatherless,
I found acceptance in the war on the streets,
where love was poison, but hate brought prosperity.
Only surviving due to my father's name,
yet I knew it was an unwinnable game.
My hands were pacifying guns,
so I learned to exist without bullets.
I was a black sheep in a strange white herd,
opposing shepherds who couldn't tolerate me.
A clean soul in a dirty social order -
a peaceful heart seeking a place to call home.
Silence is a choice in adulthood.
I used to ignore the pain from unhealed wounds,
but today the inner child screams and shouts,
because oppressors can no longer mute my tongue.
Death taught me not to be bitter,
stubborn fingers how to bleed ink onto paper -
showing compassion in an ugly world.
If life was so simple, we wouldn't look at it differently.
Our perceptions are based on what we have learned,
what was, what is to come and what we search for.
Where you end up depends on how you deal with the past.
Love is like fragile wings.
romance an illusion of moonlight delusions.
I recall when summer skies hypnotised,
in the pleasure of your pleasing presence,
I used to gaze at the doves of love above,
admiring their delicate reflections in your eyes.
Revealing the tempress inside you,
our butterfly hearts used to flutter,
watching our shy shadows dance,
to the rhythm of brave waves of hope.
Tribulations of time led to a
decay within our garden,
as poisoned poetic petals,
drowned in a wild river of roses.
Now we are like a
destitute of wildflowers,
our souls resembling moths of shame.
There is a sadness in silence,
when there is confusion
in communication.
Tongues remain oppressed
in misunderstanding.
When candlelight caresses
no longer feel the same,
as misplaced moments begin to untame.
Songs of passion we sang for us,
escape as anthems of selfish games.
Should we muster dry conversations?
Neglect our flower garden in this storm?
Within wilting vines where
weeping willows hide,
it's a crime that the crying
crescent moon mirrors our stolen hours.
Specks of cosmic dusts
refuse to unravel silver spotted dreams,
when time becomes a nightmare
ticking beneath electric fields of scarlet.
I've lost and found you in
diversified seasons,
as winds of evanescence
curl empty promises into pearly shells.
Every poetic phrase you’ve
place in my borderline mind,
no longer hydrates this
glassy oyster heart -
will I forever remain confined
within restrained walls?
Perhaps this is just another
beginning of an ever-glowing end.
Painted in restless nights
from subtle strokes,
of forgotten devotion felt
like forbidden nostalgia,
beckoning monotonous forlorn
silhouettes to depart.
The last star shines and
bleeds broken hopes
in dwindling wraiths
upon love gliding
within trifling shadows.
For, sometimes feelings
wane like ephemeral phases
of moon-bows that seize
every lingering last light of life,
unveiling tides of change to
wriggle into thin fogs of grey.
Yet your clarity is forever
framed as timeless souvenirs,
designed as fine aesthetic
art colouring me with affection.
Forgive me, but I will
perpetually plant loyal seeds,
so our collaborations
continue to blossom in fresh fragrances.
SOLDIER OF BATTLES.. Steve Hudson
It started, in silence, in infancy; the eyes look beyond the darkness
To understand the sounds of rage, echoes of misunderstanding,
The beginnings of normalcy wrought with disturbance,
Bereavement for the loss of innocence and the first lesson learned.
The lines in ground becoming clearer.
The only thing that ever came easy for me is warring,
Not because I chose the ground, but because it chose me.
Here is your sword; here is your battle,
The field is endless and there is no turning back,
So find your heart and find your place among the ranks
You sojourn with.
You tell one another it will be okay, and that we will pull through,
But no one really knows.
Its only after our first encounter and mortal blow that we find some
Courage to face another foe.
The welcomed peace endured for a season, then skies darken
On eminent splayed horizons and shadowy realms of spirit
You try to make sense of the next wave of terror,
Taunted and vexed at every turn.
Your enemies take form in shapes of, what is true?
Wrestling, pondering among bloody concepts and the why.
Wounds received through fearful encounters take shape of scars,
Scars take shape of trusted moments carried through
Onslaughts of deception.
Fallen men on smoldering ground, tormented by hounds of confusion.
This is how it started, but not how it ended for you see,
There was One we found in heated skirmish
Battle hardened and sure footed, the spear and shield wielded
With skillful hands, He inspired confidence in us all.
On days we found respite, He sat with us and taught strategies in warfare,
The secrets to winning the hearts and minds of defeated bretheren.
The certainty and comfort in His eyes, told stories of ancient victories held.
A kingly stature though plain to view, never considered Himself better
Then the lowliest man I knew.
We asked about some of the scars He brandished,
“They are scars received from the greatest of man’s struggles,” He said,
He got them while defending the poorest of souls.
It was then we understood, it was of us He spoke.
So now we gladly fight for this One who became the captain of our heart,
We’ve learned from the truths that have pierced our very souls,
our greatest cause and reason to be.
A soldier of battles was He…
Forgotten Wife
WHY?
I’ve asked the question,
A thousand times or more,
What more could I have done?
As I really didn’t understand
What changed?
What had changed this man?
That man I first married.
Ever a handsome fella
Dressed in khaki clothe,
Fresh faced,
Gentle, caring,
Considerate loving husband,
Before going off
To that stinken foreign Asian war,
Off to an unknown uncertainty.
But the return of my warrior
With loving arms a beckoning,
For him
Discharged and released
Into this brand new horizon,
Subtle changes first unnoticed
In having my man returned
Expecting a life of wedded bliss
And endless joy of peace.
However I the wife
Began to have this battle
Of fighting an unknown war
Where bouts of anger,
Sulkiness,
Depression,
Suspicions easily aroused,
Periods of unexplained darkness
Of something bottled within
Easily the order of the day.
His children who knew naught
Of happenings abound,
From a father who found
Everyday faults so many
Drove a wedge
Between parenthood
And the siblings of his groin
Forcing them out into a world
Of the unexpected
Out there
Into an misunderstanding world of unknown.
As loyal wife of long ago,
Taken vows “till death us do part”
Now a suffer in total silence,
Tormented by the grief
Sometimes in disbelief,
This deep seated anger,
Which smoldered
Like an un-erupted overdue volcano
Deep inside the belly,
Every day became like torture
In trying to understand
What really changed my man?
As I now do sit
On this carpet
Of lush green grass,
A lonely tear rolls down
Head bowed
In deep respect,
For me now a reality,
He has left the place
Truly gone forever,
Off to his lastingly resting place
And for this old soldier boy
‘Tis for him a much better rest
Than all the confusion of his mind.
I gaze!
I fix my eyes on bronze plaque,
His name,
Rank and serial number inscribed
An azalea grows in a terracotta pot
Marking the spot
Where they lowered the casket
Three days after that fateful day,
The day they buried my man.
I being the widow,
The mother,
And once his wife
Must now have inner strength,
“O God I wish I had more,
But why Lord oh why!
When he returned,
I still ask the question
What did change?
My lover,
My husband,
My man!