Long On the brink Poems
Long On the brink Poems. Below are the most popular long On the brink by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long On the brink poems by poem length and keyword.
I feel depressed.
I just want to rest.
But I don’t protest.
So you wouldn’t have guessed.
I want to go home.
At recess I roam.
But I’m still alone.
Guess I’m on my own.
I sit here and think.
And I’m on the brink.
My smile will shrink.
So lower I sink.
You can’t read my thoughts.
My silence was taught.
Because those battles I fought,
Well their victory was bought.
I feel so lost.
My words were just tossed,
Because the truth was glossed,
And now I pay the cost.
No one understands,
My pride’s in my hands,
And my patience expands,
For all of the people that misunderstand.
But my eyes are dry,
You think that I’m shy,
My self-doubt is high,
Because it’s all a lie.
If you find this verse slightly apocalyptic, don't despair. We are not there yet. But the trend has started
Mankind, on the brink of change
We're at the cusp, robotics age
Lives, work and love be re-arranged
The world stares down a yet blank page
No, nothing will be as we used to
Computer brains solving all
Insert itself our minds into
Not like a breeze but as a squall
This automation will be scary
When fix your car and buy the food
The changeover rather hairy
"It will be for your own good"
A.I. knows all of your demeanor
More than you're knowing of yourself
To act as guard, assistant, screener
But also master in itself
The jobs be lost. Don't need as many
Good working skills - A.I. is king
They will be gone like U.S. penny
The change is what new age shall bring
Controlled by phones and computers
No longer conscious what we see
Hey, women, men're no longer suitors
As if all guys are swept to sea
Robotics ends the "loving troubles"
Those wanting sex will find it cheap
While marriage heads to utter rubbles
Girls shall be left alone, to weep
The feminism shall be finished
Good wives, be clinging to thy men!
Deranged dames be diminished
Caprice, delusion equals ban
"The intellect grows kids in vitro"
Oh, ladies, time to change your mind
Be meek and loyal, as in retro
Or find yourselves be left behind
Men opt for freedom, solace, money
Them choosing peace is way to go
Build fewer families, unfunny
And populations shrink, not grow
A pension doled to all the living
No jobs be left in one's old field
Expect no longer earn a living
Perhaps a fate to be unsealed
Computers write software and verses
The actors dead to play again
Gene mods avail age reverses
And there will be no more pain
My verse describes the thinnest sliver
Of what is coming down the pike
The Earth beneath our feet shall quiver
Choose to accept it or dislike
January 18, 2026
In the twilight of civilization, shadows stretch like dusty memories,
Europe and America, once beacons, retreat wearily from the stage of history,
Under the pale light of days gone by, the depths of collective memory stir,
The new era makes its presence felt, a mechanism pulsing with the cold rhythm of innovation.
On the brink of this dawn, the world of technicians is born, taming machines of thought,
Reason becomes a tool, fragmenting the soul into shining numbers and algorithms,
Existential questions melt away before screens that gaze upon us with cold eyes,
We, the children of a bygone era, seek solace in the echoes of old cultural symphonies.
Ah, God, have mercy on us, lost in the realm of steel and silicon,
Where hearts become ghosts haunting the mechanical dream of a new world,
Searching for humanity among interfaces that reflect only masks lacking depth,
In the tumult of thoughts spilled into the ocean of melancholy, we ask: where does the soul go?
Under the vast sky of the new era, we seek our place among the cold stars of the artificial constellation,
The nostalgia of a lost world brings us to our knees, praying for divine light,
To guide our steps towards a horizon where machine and man dance together,
In a union that transcends the barriers of time, preserving the dreams of old.
(10/01/11)
Life gets me to wonder, life gets me to think
Am I losing my mind, am I on the brink.
So many questions that enter my mind every day
I think hard about one , and the rest seem to fade away.
Once I find the answer then to the next level I will go
It’s amazing - how god lets us know.
Every question and every answer is a step
That we must climb - and we’ll continue to do this
Till the end of our time.
We will always have questions - that’s why
God gave us a mind.
Knowledge is power on that I don’t deny.
But there are more questions than any of us care to admit
And when we can’t answer them - we surely catch a fit.
Questions about health , love , work , religion
Just to name a few - this list goes on
What are we supposed to do.?
There's a symbol for our justice,
Holding scales while she is blind.
Yet it seems the 'MAGAteers' have extended
This further, adding deaf and dumb to their mind.
Because they have made the choice not to
See, hear, or think, as they ignore reality.
While they follow a corrupted voice, laden
With false notions and irrationality.
This conviction has seduced their soul, with
Visions of fear and lethal consequence sustained.
Using a barrage of powerful fiction, giving faith
To a utopia without discord ... but they're ordained.
The stupidity is clearly seen, as they avoid
Any facts that disturb their view.
As these followers become so deeply entrenched,
They can't escape the shadow that's untrue.
Having seen the danger progress, while a
Fragile democracy wavers on the brink.
Watching a majority come under constant attack,
And a privileged minority tries to silence those who critically think.
Twas a dark knight,
whence there came a pawn the hushed crowded movie house
A phantom of horror sprung out of the rookery that wrought deadly havoc
Renting asunder innocent audience members
Anticipating Batman annihilate evil within Manichean eternal duel
Extant within imaginary world of Gotham portrayed on the silver screen
When out of the black curtained theater tear gas canisters got hurled pell mell
Accompanied by a fusillade of heavy machine gun fire
Sheering many lives
Many in the prime ascent sans parabola of adulthood
The youngest, a six-year-old girl transformed into an ashen colored corpse
Which death yet revealed to her young mother
Critically wounded, and clamoring for said daughter
While teetering on the brink of mortality
Oblivious to stricken offspring
While family, friends, relatives and anonymous prayers
And this heartfelt genuine communiqué
From me – a self styled nonestablishmentarian
Gung-ho to invoke a mandate that high powered fire-arms
Must be much less accessible
I.e. bulletproof laws need implementation pronto
So inhabitants of these United States do not fear for their lives
Nor feel akin to a potential prey sighted in the crosshairs
Wantonly gunned down from some grinning joker
Slaking glee from mass killing as to appease unquenchable thirst
To avenge some psychotic nemesis gloating to slay
With a vengeance and contrived vendetta
Promulgating pandemonium and grisly bloody aftermath
Yet despite such horrific heinous atrocity
Bravery and sacrifice witnessed and extolled
From heroic instinctual motive to offer themselves as human shield
So that carnage less devastating than toll on madman’s hit list
Now in solitary confinement and even if executed
Would be a Pyrrhic salve to those forever deprived of loved ones
Burning with an eternal sorrow no matter
Generosity of cyber sympathizers across World Wide Web
Plus the president of these United States
Reach out showering kindness analogous to Borealis raiment!
Form:
Though I served my country with pride,
To my counselor, I have lied.
It’s hard to tell him how I feel.
The fears I have are very real.
It’s so hard for me to explain
Why, now, I live life with disdain.
After the things I’ve seen and done,
I can’t imagine life with fun.
I lose my temper faster, now.
I can’t keep calm; I don’t know how.
I used to be patient and kind.
Anger and fear take over my mind.
Anger wins when push comes to shove.
I take it out on those I love.
I’m afraid what people will think
Once they know that I’m on the brink.
So, with help and medication,
I will truly find salvation.
The path to become me again
Starts with my family and friends.
With help and love to pull me through,
There’s nothing that I can’t do.
I will live life again, someday
To the fullest and in my own way.
War after war in the name of his sovereign king
A seventeenth century fury, devoid of all shame
Through pistol, cutlass and rapier, the world knew his name
So too does the Reaper, and beckons to Solomon Kane
.
A time to fight evil with evil, purge wickedness far from the land
Anger, murder and hatred, the cost of the toll
On the brink of destruction he falters, unsure of his stand
No riches, nor rapture enough to replenish his soul
.
A scream from the Devils Reaper
Cuts deep through the ice in your soul
“I have come for you, Solomon Kane”
“To claim back the Time, that you stole”
.
You wake from your world of dreams
The dreams that do haunt you, still
Renounced your evil ways, it seems
No - more you will live, to Kill
.
In penance here, behind these walls of virtue
“Oh! Father, do not make me beg, I pray
Cast from Heavens favour, crowned unholy
Let loose the Devils Children, for to play
.
The corpses piling high, upon the pyre
His bounty just a book and some stale bread
From regal and the noblest of beginnings
Alone there on the road, he’s left for dead
.
Dispense now with the boy you gutter demon
The daggers kiss then stole his life away
“If I kill you, demon, then I am bound for Hell”
“But that’s a price, that I will gladly pay”
.
Adorned by a broad-rimmed hat and a flowing cape
His journey’s long, his homeland’s where he’ll start
His task laid out before him, Merediths escape
No love, nor needless pity, in his heart
.
The preachers flock have changed now for the worse
They clamber for to tear the flesh, from bone
As MalachI bestowed on each, his curse
The Chapel cellar walls, their only home
.
The fate of defiance is fixing
The Hapless aloft, on the cross
Rain softens a cruel crucifixion
Sweet Meredith’s … not yet lost
.
A Priest sold his soul, to the Devil
At the castle, of Solomons birth
Welcome home, Solomon Kane
His friends, cut to bits in the dirt
.
“Forsake me not, Heavenly Father”
“Do I call on your Mercy, in vain”
Redemption lies there, at Your Alter
“RETURN TO ME” ….. Solomon Kane
.
There once was a time, full of burden
A time without hope, for a Saviour
When no-one would stand against Evil
“THAT TIME, MY LORD.... NOW IT IS OVER”
Bone-drained, there is no respite, no split second of peace. The “sundowner”, a hyper-active toddler in a man’s vehicle, never sleeps nor sits.
When I succumb to that one precious moment of rest; I am awakened to a furnace running full blast in a freezing cold house and on a nineteen degree night. A butter knife has removed a window; the culprit and dementia-mind panics; he’s terrified of being trapped in a fire. There’s no arguing with dementia-mind; it’s best to play along with the his ideas.
Another day of madness and I awake to a frantically screeching doorbell; it’s his nurse. I've revived in the floor. A migraine faint pulled me down; I’ve had no sleep for eight nights, you see. Sweet respite…she says she’ll, “sit with him”, so I can lie down a bit; a pleasant miracle; such happenstance is a rarity.
Dementia-mind has no solutions, only hallucinations, delusions; absence of mind and aggression for the “sundowners”. I watch at breakfast, as he pours his milk upon the floor; he has no clue of what he is doing or why;
he stares, mindless. When the eyes go blank it’s obvious; he’s not in there. A robot gone haywire, used to be my Father. The last thing to go, were his mathematical skills. Dementia-mind has forgotten so many people; how to swallow, but recalls numbers…
“Who is that man?” he demands, pointing at himself in the mirror. My exhausted mind briefly forgets and I mistakenly reply, “You dad.” The firestorm is initiated; he calls me a, “liar”. Self recognition has failed him now; the flame of his mind is burning low; soon to extinguish.
He’s fed and dressed, but I’ve no time to eat; if he should sleep an hour today; I must cook for the week. It’s the only opportunity I have…when and if he sleeps. I must not go to the bathroom; he’ll break something or fall. I must hold myself until my sister arrives.
The “passives” are painful to watch, as they deteriorate, but the “sundowners” are constant exhaustion. I was in the ER, almost as much as, he. You see, there’s no one to care for the caregiver, but themselves and when they can’t, exhaustion and malnutrition escalate. Dementia-mind is round-the-clock work and two doing the work of six people, takes its’ toll. The disease never discriminates; it destroys everyone.
(My Father died with dementia, a form of Alzheimer's in 2003, after a 15 year battle.)
Any foodie on the brink
Of getting moody thinks
Of the dear dairy panacea
Culinary kinks
Cultural links
Gourmet high jinx
Where the nods & the winks
Go to the food of the Gods
The sexy minx that really stinks
A noble global endeavour
Palette caged by a rare
Cave aged Gruyere
Arty farty dolcelatte party
Comte & cheddar
Smutty nutty double header
Camembert flair
Prouder of Gouda
Stilton to share
Or louder Parmesan fan
Even when it’s powder?
Aristocratic blue vein
More a Roquefort sort
Or St Augur holds court
Emphatic stench & stain
Tester of Red Leicester
What's better than Feta
Double Gloucester no imposter
Boursin or St Paulin on the roster
Snarl if there's no emmental
Pecorino the Ferrari Dino
Halloumi whispers consume me
New coup for Exmoor blue
Hail the tale of Wensleydale
Willy nilly grab a slab of Philly
Wealthier folks say Philadelphia
On the grounds sounds healthier
Right now is Ricotta somehow hotter
Or creamy dreamy Burrata smarter
Kowtow to Yarg from Celtic Kernow
Homage to fromage global trotter
Whatever floats your boat
High roller Gorgonzola
Maybe Goat gets your vote
Or those in the know
Gloat..chose sheep & Manchego
Young or well hung
Given time in the cellar
Yippee glee of smelly brie
But won’t sneer at Paneer
Mozzarella can be stellar
Even give a damn about Madame Edam
Stringy Raclette the best bet yet
Or the goo of Fondue more you
Can't sledge a wedge of Old Amsterdam
Primula still familiar
Wary of the not rated
Scary squirting lube
You squeeze with ease
Flirting fairy out of a tube
Ill fated.. hated pre grated
Diced into a nice cube
Drastic or fantastic vices
Chose those plastic elastic slices
Could plea for some Dairy Lea
Fell under that Babybel spell
Or pray tell a stash of well maybe
Laughing cow oui Le Vache qui Rit