Long Motivated Poems
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Poet: Ken Jordan
Story: Street Life
written: July/2014
Child, I have seen many nights
turn to dawn, out in the streets.
I was you once, left home thinking that
I could take care of myself at eighteen.
My parents told me what to
expect from my decision to walk away
from the one's who loved me.
Whatever they said, didn't matter,
because I was mentally gone, (lost) and
rushing to get out there in the unforgiving
cesspool of street life.
One thing is clear, once out there,
I learned very quickly what my parents
tried to get me to see.
The streets are cold , cruel , vicious,
and everyone's for themselves.
When your money runs out, your group
of so called "friends," are gone.
No one is going to give you
something for nothing, you make
it the best way that you can.
Looking back, the temptation of
being out there with my friends,
doing whatever I wanted to do,
without permission from my parents,
was the lure that motivated my
desire to leave home, and hang out
in the streets.
My parents fought tirelessly to
protect me from the hazards of
street life, but obviously, I wouldn't
listen.
They said son, you're too young at
eighteen, haven't finished high school;
you have no money.
What makes you think that you can
make it out there on your on.
You think that it's cool to hang-out, smoke
weed, drink alcohol, pop pills, do edible drugs, and stay up (high )
all night, and fallout wherever
you are.
The devil is a liar, he will set you up,
to lure you in, he'll make you think that
you're, "part of his street family," but, when
it all goes down, (and it will go down), the
devil will point a finger your way, and
leave you to defend yourself, and move
on to the next victim.
In street life, you better know which-a-way
the wicked come.
They wear false faces to hide who
they really are.
I played with the
devil, and crossed many murky,
dark rivers, but, the devil did not win.
I heard my parents voice's saying,
"Theirs only two places to go
from street life, prison or the cemetery."
The devil is a lair, and he's not your
friend. be aware of who and what
you follow, because, all feathers
ain't good feathers, choose the path
of least resistance, and your life
will change for the good in you.
Great transitions became part of human experience
after we gave up on daily nomad lifestyle,
perhaps too bohemian
to have ever actually existed
out of nutritional nurturing choice
As contrasted with necessity
of drought,
floods,
pestilence,
famine,
chronic wars,
climatic absence of healthy peace.
Great transitions
are choices,
positive more than negatively motivated,
to move from one habitat
in space and/or time
to another
that feels more promising,
worthy of trust,
a potential celebration of interactive beauty,
holistic balance,
resilient health,
aesthetically resonant wealth.
Great transitions
have their inhale stage,
before the moving Team appears,
which includes hard and soft decisions
and indecisions,
memories,
and rude reminders
lacking acquisitive memories
about where did all these properties come from,
external
with their internally complementary feelings
of way too much stuff
in my cluttered life,
Happiness to be bringing warm memories along
and sadness to leave so much cold
and neglectful waste
behind the dumpster
And great transitions
also have their less famous exhale stage
after the moving Team
moves on
to facilitate another household's preferably Great
but sometimes Traumatic
Transition.
Great transitions
in second stage
open one box at a time
to reload new closets
basements
attics
garages
sheds
shelves
entertainment centers
dress drawers
treasure chests
jewelry boxes
safes
mailboxes
kitchen and bathroom drawers
cabinets
medicine cabinets
CD and DVD racks
soundtracks
shoe racks
pot racks
wine racks
over the door hat racks
behind the door spice racks
tool racks and peg boards
hangers
umbrella stands
coat trees
bird feeders
pantry shelves
under the oven drawers
armoires
desks
hutches
book cases
curtain rods
picture hangers
linen closets
nightstands
pillow cases
guest beds
Great transitions
never die
they just fade in
to what remains of yesterday
Sufficient for this new age
of rebecoming
habituated
co-acclimated
seeking a healthier climate,
a wealthier place
for healing uncooperative
lack of felt resilience
To survive
and hopefully thrive
into our next Great Transition,
inhaling into recycling lungs,
exhaling out into greener
more resonantly resilient
Great Earth Habitat.
The generous character-carried-by them good-old-girls-and boys down-home country-copper-
roof-all filled-up-silos-wheat-turbines waiting ready outside the barn deer-skins pegged down
low the greater-story askant-of curiosity carrying the pureness of a child as to why... .
Smoked-up hickory-honey-bubbling bacon saged-up getta-gingerly-popping in the grease in
the skillets over the steadily-flaming-logs and-built-up-kindling ... .
Humbly growing up little farm-houses-rock streams-made by-the freedom-of-the-patient
hand-Bibles-on the-table in every-dwelling-place blessings of praise-that really gooey gooey
fudge-brewing slow... so-slow.
Cooked-up-apple and peach a plethora of assortments of berry pies cooling their lively smells
lifting up-and-drifting-about the grassy timber woods and hills in every available-window-sill
home made-ice-cream sweet-taffy-candy-moonlit-walks-with a real good friend-crawdad
hunting with my-Pa and Uncles cousins and Brother Sisters-Grand-Pa... . Stars parading along
on by with the sky's Moon-hovering-above casting the morning-stars-gentle, and-somewhat-
kinder reflection on-the-slumbering-land of crawler's... .
Our flashlights lights perusing cast-all-about searching-for-them... junker autos rumbling and
rolling off one distant-street-corner-easy childhood-days-rising up to greet-you laying-down
weighing in the balance-as the tender moments... ease-on-by.
Time my only vestige welcomed salvation, greater my safety-grace happily promenades-
about-the fringe-of the-day... . They ride-their-way-along-enchanted carried along churning
away-by the glimmering-crystal-streams motivated by-the-chipper woodland-winds... . My
faith, in-its relevance, emancipates.
Fragile, honest... willing... no time for resentment-innocence runs free now merrily skipping
with me across the meadow.
Gracious time the noble gesture freedom the-patient-journey-sown-of-humble yes the
truest divinity as patient-just yes-the devotion for all-through grace-made-open-my hope
remains willing-white cotton clouds captured in their lea way dancing two and fro remind
me even-more so... .
"Kill them with the virtues' of kindness" as my Father always said.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x6rYPHmSzcE&feature=related
The Date ,before that fateful day
- 3rd Month, 13th Day ,1973 –
so long ago, 30 years .
Time, in its passing, has eroded life into grains of sand.
From its former, mountainous self, soon upon this land,
in a short while, those grains will become dust in the hand.
To be scattered to the four corners of this earth, then beyond,
to become cosmic particles, specks of light waves, here, there, gone.
A journey to penetrate, be absorbed, become an energy force that will
become the motion that moves life onward, into another journey, to fill,
from then to when, motivated by the past, long lost to one named Bill,
conscious of, yet seldom glimpsed in reflections of the present
or to become a positive, motivating force, into the future sent.
Yet, every day, in every way the forces do play – right or wrong,
destructive or creative good or bad, mistakes and all the song
that influences the moments, the motions, the movements that dictate
the minutes in which we pass on, the past into the future and create.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As these words have taken a life into fight, to flow,
from whence they came I cannot say, I do not know,
for I am not, but a shell, nothing more than a nowhere man,
who does believe, that he has done the best that he can,
yet, in the scheme of things, goes nowhere, has so little to show
for a life time of living on the grounds of his nowhere land,
yet he sees, but still judges life by another’s hand,
and upon this earth has nowhere to take a stand
among this world of the lost and the alone man.
Who the heck am I ?, to think that I might go.
Who the heck am I, I wonder ?, what do I know ?,
about life being lightning and thunder, and so ???
---------------------------------------------------------------
Tomorrow is the thirteenth – thirty years
have slipped on by and the world is full of tears
for what the river holds, is it filled with the fears
of the unknown ?, is that what kept you hanging on ?,
to this plain, a place, a space that should long be gone
from this world we knew, you no longer know, can’t get beyond,
or is it just me ?, is it just feelings ?, just thought ?,
of a long lost friend I have no longer got,
whom, I hope has taken that step, and peace sought.
B. J. “A” 2
3rd Month 12th Day 2003
When My Big Sister Stepped In
Sponsor: Eve Roper
It was a cloudy Thursday, March 2009...
I remember it clearly...
I was shivering in withdrawal,
my blood was boiling as I began to fall.
Addicted to my addiction,
lost in my fantasies of hopelessness...
Walking down the wrong path of conviction
into a black hole of nothingness,
And there you were...
baby sister needing,
her big sister...
You held me,
you fed me,
you carried me upstairs,
and drew me a warm bath.
You compelled me,
dressed me,
sat me down and prepared me.
pushed me on the right path.
Similar experiences you have seen,
your past drifted into my present,
motivated me to get sober and clean,
to grow up and be independent.
Same parents,
related through blood,
I was crippled and paralyzed,
It was you, Karen,
the only one who understood,
my big sister I idolized.
Date Written: December 21, 2015
If they shoot, tell my story
A boy writes a letter to his mother
She will know nothing of it
Until
Something bad happens
But he knows something will
He knows the colour of his skin
He knows that it means a possible death sentence
He gives his mom direct instructions
Of what to do if they try to silence his existence
He wants the world to know that he is the real victim
And his killers are the real villains
He would not allow the world to be ignorant
All the time He saw kids like him being killed
He wanted it to end with him
He had a plan
To expose the violence
Of a system trying to erase innocent kids like him
He wanted the world to know the truth about politicians
Who fake their sympathy
To change the narrative
As a distraction
For their evil actions
He knew she would know what he meant
He didn't want his death to be in vain
He wanted everyone to feel the pain
The type of pain black people experience everyday
Even if it means he has to die to make them pay
He wanted his mother to tell their story
Of when she found out she was pregnant And how she had already began to mourn him
Of her labour and how she faced discrimination
How her pain was ignored
Even though there was something wrong
How she feared losing her son
Because of their racism
He wanted the world to know about his childhood
How he grew up
And about his neighbourhood
A place where everyone understood
That many of their people might not make it out the hood
How the corrupt system locked them up
And collectively stole every back kids innocence
He told her to talk about his intelligence
How he beat the education system
And was preparing for college
And looked forward to his 18th birthday where he would get to experience adulthood
How it was all he could talk about
His final words was about how much he loved her
About how thankful
He was for her protection
Her love and affection
And said no matter what happens she will always be appreciated
A few weeks later
A month before his 18th birthday
One of his racist neighbours
Decided this would be his last day
Later his mom found his letter
Cried for her sons murder
Promising her son She would avenge him
She would get justice and make the world better
She would make sure the world remembers
Move Your Body
Get up, get up and move.
Keep moving to change your mood,
to get your groove and to improve
your muscle strength and muscle tone
and your whole body’s circulation.
Don’t just sit there and watch television,
play video games, chat on the phone,
be on your computer, your cell phone
or let “Alexa” do it all.
Move your body, it will do you good.
Turn the music on and sway with it.
Start slow with your own beat.
If you could do it faster, the better.
If not, stay on your own rhythmic manner.
Stretch your arms and move them.
Shake your legs and move them
and step sideways, forward and backward
and don’t be inept or feel awkward
to grind and move your hips
and try to shake your shoulders and booty.
Do the jerk, the twist, the bump,
or try whatever moves you can.
Slow or fast, it does not matter.
Just keep moving, that’s what matters.
Keep moving your body with the music.
Now, you’re moving and swaying with the music.
You got this!.. keep doing it… Wow! You got it.
Keep on doing it and it becomes a habit.
Cool, you are now exercising for free.
You don’t even have to pay a fee
to be a member of a fancy gym
or buy expensive equipment
to get you moving and motivated.
Stop calling "Alexa” to do simple stuff.
You can do them, just get up
and move to burn those calories,
for burning them is good for your extremities.
Keep moving your body again and again.
When there’s no pain, there’s no gain.
You want to look good, feel good.
Move your body, now!
Brian Strand All Yours (Jan 30) Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One When There Is No Inspiration
One of the First Place Judged on 10/8/20
In the depths of the soul's shadows, the artist is a living flame, a spark of magic,
Seeking eternal themes that shine beneath the ancient vaults of the sky,
To reveal them under the mantle of night, on canvases woven with starlight,
For in the heart of the human psyche, we pulse under the spell of ancestral roots.
In every secret gesture hides the murmur of the chimpanzee within us,
Wild impulses, covered with cloaks of false light, masks that deceive our gaze.
We pretend that social structures have purified our essence,
But the truth remains, like an underground current, an unceasing river of fire.
Artists, who unveil the unifying themes, capture the magical brilliance,
In lights and shadows, in abysses of fleeting desires and hopes,
For beyond the delicate veil of civilization, we are all,
Motivated by the same primordial Will, wild and restless.
We carry within us the same desires and tremors, like stars beneath the infinite sky,
Inner battles, in fields of unseen chaos, where the past meets the future.
In front of mirrors of shattered stained glass, artists reveal secrets,
Drawing worlds where truth and illusion dance in a mystical play.
Our souls are alchemical cauldrons, full of archetypal essences,
Veiled in the mantles of civilization, we are still prisoners of an ancient will.
And thus, in every secret painting, a bit of our chaos melts away,
Into a world of symbols, of dreams sculpted under the melancholic light of destiny.
Digging into the depths of the human psyche, we find untamed desires,
Sources of battles and passions, confronting ephemeral social norms,
We are driven by the same ancestral forces that govern all that is alive,
The same eternal Will, struggling within us, without end.
In the artist’s enchanted mirrors, we find the themes that bind us,
They shine under the magical and sad light of unspoken truths,
For in the end, we are all bearers of the same sacred spark,
Dressed in illusory mantles of civilization, but with hearts of chimpanzees.
Under the vast and enigmatic sky of existence, the artist digs deep,
Towards the lost roots, hidden under layers of time and desires,
And in every corner of the soul, in every fragment of humanity,
We find echoes of that primordial Will, wrapped in sacred dreams and shadows.
My sister’s smile
Fourteen years ago, my sister founded something, something powerful, something she wore everyday, a smile. A smile that could defeat anything that was against her and make everyone around felt nothing but joy. My sister had a disease, there might not be another tomorrow for her but she did nothing but carpe diem; enjoy every single moment to the fullest. I can barely remember everything that passed during that time, I was just four years old but it is impossible for anyone to forget such a unique and beautiful smile. One day she had to do analysis, another day she needed to take about 10 medicines and the next day she was in chemo, this process repeated itself by several months and I was amazed because not a single day passed where she didn’t give a smile. Most of the days she had to go through intense and painful tests so she can get better and believe me they were extremely hard, but she had something that motivated her, a kind of award. She had a little book that was full of happy faces stickers of every single color, size and shape. She loved the shiny ones because it meant not only happiness; there was a little extra that made her feel so good. She wrote on a notebook her daily treatments and she leaved a little space so when her hard day was over, she can put the sticker on the blank space she left previously on the page. She filled about 240 pages with happy faces and every person that went to visit her read the whole notebook and left the place with a smiley face sticker on their forehead. It is a unique and simple daily motivation she had and it turned out that it worked really well for her. Many people find happiness with material things such as new clothes, accessories, cars, luxury things, and etc. They forget that the little and simple things have the most impact in their life. My sister’s happiness was represented by a simple smile and most of the persons that she knew and where present during that time had received that gift she founded one day. Through hard times and sad days don’t forget to smile because one single movement from your mouth can bring the most powerful feelings that can defeat almost everything that stands against you. Just like my sister, she founded her smile and it turned out that it worked really well for her.
I end up insecure like a homeless individual,
Going through the streets of sheer cruelty
I desire to be mighty like you, my faith fuel
Blowing like the breeze of mere uncertainty
Hope you're happy where you are...
Well, I have packed up all my things
I'm about to head to another country
I will see what this lovely life brings
Maybe, I will wondrously be free
I hope you shine like a midnight star...
I am done fighting for the crown of recognition
I am backing down my guard of glorification
I accept my fate at hand
Don't stand where I stand
I am aware of my decisions made here
And I dare you to try to change my mind
I am not afraid or cowering away in fear
I'm staying right here...made up my mind and choose to unwind
I hope you are motivated to the highest bar
I am just a man
A man that tries his best best he can
To find solace in the oddest location
I am just a boy
A boy who has unbroken, blameless joy
While wandering around in anticipation
Hoping you are zealously zooming like a car
Don't follow me
In the woods of oblivion
Don't even see me
As I attempt to zero in
On a prize I have yet to win
On treasure through thick and thin
Don't hear my echoes
Don't stick your nose
In my business again
Don't fence me in...
Don't fence me in...
Hope your success takes you far
You said aloud:
Swallow your pride
In the rowdy crowd,
I try to hide...
Subside from my side
Subside from my side
Abide elsewhere...
You still don't care...
I prepare for the worst
Or for the better
I think I might just burst
You still wear your I-don't-care sweater
I hope I have healed your shameful scar
I end up insecure as a widower in the rainstorm
I am a spider without his meal, left starved and hopelessly dyin'
I wish someone out there will mend my scars and keep me warm
Now, I've come to realize that I have become a brazen lion
Hope you don't mind me keeping your words of enlightenment in my jar
It's hard to fathom
This feeling of numb
This eerie isolation hurts
I long to be strong
I hope, one day, I will belong
Let us both hope that we belong and end this greed war...
For we fight for peace
And for peaceful unity, nothing to bizarre
Oh Lord, give us peace
Not to mention hope...