Long Moment of truth Poems
Long Moment of truth Poems. Below are the most popular long Moment of truth by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Moment of truth poems by poem length and keyword.
As exemplary as a High Priest
and consecrated as a Temple's Inner Chamber.
Respected amongst his colleagues,
reverenced by His subordinates,
distinguished, honorable and set apart.
Then came the moment of Truth
like the refining fire which may burn or may purify.
A Golden Opportunity never to be seen again,
but a situation to break or to make him.
This is Crude Diamond Ore from a glance
already anticipating to do it at once
creating an allabi with occurrence in France
and covering all traces in utmost Brilliance
Not minding his activated self-repugnance
certainly it will give birth to wealth and public acceptance.
If Life gave him more options, he'd freelance.
But with this one opportunity, he'd like to dance.
Having no qualms; even if he disappoints his fans.
He isn't to be blamed if Life is not a balance
and success among all has no concomittance.
This is the start to his enjoyment galore
but can be forever hunted by the Law.
The heaped pressure pressing more and more,
but what the Hell! It's just one flaw.
With a blessing so raw,
attached with bountiful Harvest he never saw.
Thinking of his glory and celebration
and already holding his blessing
like a woman in lactation
yet a part of him suppresses
his whole in castigation
making him feel so useless
like a man facing castration
forcefully taking his freedom
and peace in extortion
Just about to make the decisive move,
he resisted the push and forgot about the groove
having in mind, something to prove
he signed the blank cheque without adding another "0"
My Sister Lover
Only the dead are smiling.
To Console a broken heart takes strength
Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God.
It took thirty long years
To unraveled the mystery of a lopsided affairs
She had love with conditions,
Only a few could ever endure
Finally, it came to an end with a confrontation
She said, is she the other woman?
Lost in the moment of truth
His jaws drops while he mumbles the words
And said…….I has no idea what you’re talking about Ruth
The music will go on forever,
While the night is still young
But a liar will always carry a twitchy eye
And the breathe of a skunk
My sister lover
We all knew him,
But she never knew his a quiet, somber demeanor".
It’s the timing of the beats in the song that matter
Gag long old friend, go long!
Spread your seeds amongst the thorn of hell
While your sexual fetishes moves to an unexpected object
“Let called her his night rider”
Let Go
The last tiny leaf...
waits at the end of the branch.
Below,
there are several feet to fall,
and then there is a river;
the Green.
The cold of winter has long set in,
and the last survivor of the prior year,
refuses to succumb to the moment of truth.
Below the water continues,
and life goes on.
A few more days,
then only a few more hours,
moments;
the enviable,
the inescapable...
happens.
Released,
from the last tether of life,
the small...
brittle, but unbroken...
a perfect sheet of brown and gold;
a living newspaper...
all about yesterday,
now only a single truth cast free.
Falling down,
eternally...
the value of all things past,
less than was thought it would be.
The future,
the way of the Maker,
and the Master.
The plan laid out in the very beginning.
This... this is only the end.
Fear not as the wind touches the leaf's surface.
It holds it like a father holds a child...
for the first time.
Swept away into the horizon of another day,
one with a host of angels all around,
and a King upon the throne.
It is not so scary to just be...
a leaf, anymore.
To the passage of time, you waste
to an old idea that lives in you
to that vivid imagination that still burns
to your dream that lives on
there will come a day,
when eventually it runs out-
to the passage of time you waste
rejoice in moment of levity that lives within
to your heart that feels heavy
to your soul that is crushed in burden of your own weight
walk close and steadily to that litted room
every step, each one, you take
your crushed soul, in moment of truth
you; will nearly break
-
to an old idea that lives in me
to my vivid imagination that still burns
to that forgetful dream that lives on,
the passage of time I wasted
this pains that drains my heart
this hopeless soul that is crushed
I rejoice in moment of levity that completes me.
to live in burden of failure
exhausted; I still dream
I bath in my old ideas, i may never reach
I shower in fabricated imagination
my soul ashamed, will surely endure.
-
Let's create something new
Let's abandon all of our fantasies
Let's work to achieve our dreams
Let's walk, on a new path
each and every step we take
this time, we learn
through the the passage of time,
we will learn to live again
this crushed soul will burn again
The Now Continuum
In the quiet pulse of the present's breath,
Lies the secret, the power that outlasts death.
Not in the past, where shadows cling tight,
Nor in the future, a distant flight.
The now, the moment, this sacred time,
Where all is aligned, where hearts chime.
It whispers, “You are the creator, the key,
Unlock your truth, and just let it be.”
Since thoughts speak in past tenses,
Drop the mind, rely on senses.
Embracing and releasing,
Pain pangs and pleasure pleasing.
There was a beggar who asked me for R10,
With a tired face, worn by life's harsh trend.
I looked at him, and I asked, "Have you searched deep within yourself?"
For many seek outside, not knowing the wealth
Lies within, in the heart, in the soul's true song,
A treasure that’s been there all along.
He sat atop a bucket, weary and lost,
I asked, “Have you checked what’s inside, at what cost?”
He shook his head, “I’ve never dared to look,
Since I got it, I've just sat, in the same old nook.”
“Open it,” I said, “See what’s in your grasp,
Your power is hidden, break free from the clasp.”
He opened the lid, his eyes widened in awe—
A golden bar, a life-changing law.
No longer a beggar, no longer in need,
For inside that bucket lay the seed
Of wealth and freedom, the key to his fate,
A life transformed, no longer chained by fate.
In the now, in the present, you hold your own power,
A moment of truth, a single hour.
What you seek outside, you already possess,
It’s within, it's yours—nothing less.
For the continuum of time is vast,
But the now is your anchor, built to last.
Embrace the present, let it be your guide,
In this eternal now, you cannot hide.
So rise, creator, in this space so wide,
The universe moves, and you’re the tide.
In the now, your future is spun,
You are the light, the moon, the sun.
In the now, your future is done,
The present is where you’ve already won.
Igneous rocks moltened, crystallized, solidified
rising towards the surface like a hot furnace
Volcanic activity of the soul, conundrum of the heart
rule out the mind and the body facilitates, erupts !
One transformative honest experience and we
arrive at a gestalt moment of truth, we are
both energies, ... "explosive and implosive"
filled with adroitness and clumsiness alike
Profound changes in ones individual essence
can be an awakening of great disturbance
Within the ring of fire, boundaries co-exist
illumination is feasible if it is undeniable !
Magnetic moments in the soul reinforced
through our dreams, hopes, and fears....
Owning both destructive and creative powers
our souls do make choices each and every day
Both volcanoes and souls contain openings
and when the day of reckoning is near
we either choose to lay dormant or explode
it all depends upon our soul's barcode...
I trudged to levy height, stood upon the soggy ground
with serious intentions that an answer would be found
To the river's rapidly flowing current, I confided my woes
of troubling things that had me in the doldrums of lows
Haunting problems, compelling me to leave and move on
Leading me to this river as if I were crossing the Rubicon
It's not my nature to feel caught between stay or take flight
but in desperation I stood, entreating the river of my plight
Willows on the bank, limbs swaying in the wind, listening—
weeping for my addled mind? In moonlight, tears glistening?
Do they whisper to the river what they'd suggest to me?
If I cross the bridge, then burned behind me it shall always be
My fate lies not on the telling of tree leaves or a river's flow
Two options I discern— should I cross the Rubicon and go?
Should I submit my heart and soul to the dreams of another
and live with wondering, "What if..." Only to die smothered?
It's the moment of truth — a decision too long have I delayed
Perhaps into the roiling river current, my steps should wade
By doing so, I'd avoid making the wrong choice of tribulations
having no need for explanations for my grievous lamentations
Today I awoke to my moment of truth,
I'm no longer as young as I was in my youth,
And perceived, later on, to my further dismay,
I'm not even as young as I was yesterday.
Oh, how and why was my youth so misspent,
And how can I find when and whither it went?
Was it hung in a closet, or tossed in a drawer,
Is Peter Pan really gone, boon companion no more?
As I woke up this morning, he was with me, I swear.
When I looked in the glass, though, a stranger was there.
Oh, I'll ransack each closet, every cupboard, and drawer,
But I fear I'll not find that sweet boy anywhere.
Now a new thought emerges, one not nearly so bleak:
I'm not yet as old as I will be next week.
So, Peter, adieu, sayonara, and ciao,
Please keep my youth with you, I'm too old for it now.
Oh, dear, golden boy, oh, bright symbol of youth,
We cannot remain young, that's the bittersweet truth.
Yet silver-fringed laughter hide-and-seeks in the hall,
And I smile for my youth hasn't vanished at all.
My mem'ries are young, I invoke them at will,
Like the spirit of Pan that remains with me still.
surely this had to be the moment of truth
he hit the closed door with a huge bang
headache clangour irresistible pain
he had not even been moving at great speed
but both coat of paint and skin
rubbed off each other
when slow motion came to a halt
grazed and bruised his forehead swelled
as if to poignantly point to
this moment of growth
apathy had formed a coalition
with a mindless body
sheltering his soul with arrest
and yet something had shaken
his timely corrosion at last
a few flakes of rust mixed with blood
both of similar colour and disdain for his slip
somehow called for sanguine composure
for if he could bleed he was not dead yet
scabs would form and try to heal scars
his feet and roots became moist
overcome with tears that finally flowed
while he considered to drown
in increased sorrow defeat
and ultimate capitulation
he could not hide his surprise
when he oozed through the gap
between doorframe and threshold
opened the aperture behind him
and switched on the candle
that had been patiently waiting
for such split second of verity
just a flicker
merely a cierge
but now he was able to smell
the waning and waxing
scent of freedom
he longed for so much
I promise I would be a good girl when I go out into the world, I promise to stay out of trouble and return home in a hurry. I promised never to play in the street or walk barefoot, I promise I would stay in school and complete the semester and when the climate changed, I promise to graduate and study at the university.
It’s seems like yesterday when I utter such word when I was at play. I was thirteen and you were thirty-three and I always looked up to thee. You have always encouraged me to hold my head high and never look into ground that hold the dust of shame to its core, and the molten lava spewing through the hole and entering the spot where the disgraced soldier, conceptualize the plot.
I can still hear those words ringing in my ears as I walk the path that everyone fears, it is the moment of truth that is embedded in my youth and the ordeal I encountered on life’s journey comes back to remind me.
I could tell from the start that you are a heart breaker and the season come to remind me that the fault is within me and love is my destiny; when the autumn is done and winter comes along and the snow starts falling, it will fill the lakes and the trees, the ocean and sea and you will come and dance with me.
We will do the river dance on the roof and do the fire dance in a circle, then we will roll in the snow and touch each other dignity, and Boston and Richmond will come alive, Baltimore and Washington DC will take the dive, but New York and Philadelphia will ride out the snowstorm.
It seems like yesterday the climate changed and the clouds start fading away. I stood on those very steps and recited the whole chapter, I stood on that step and grasp every living character, I remember how you cast your eyeballs at me and how the mountain shook beneath the sea when you said, “will you marry me?”
“I am only thirteen, “she said, and I cannot lie in that big bed, “Yes I will marry you,” she replied, she held breath for a while and look on every side and you were still standing looking at her; then a gust of wind came, and you suddenly disappeared, and I stood on the step gazing at the wind.
The daughter's promise was fulfilled, and they walk boldly up the hill after thirty-three years in the making the universe had their blessing, the evidence is in the wind and you can hear it when you are still, winter is chiming in.