Long Pelf Poems
Long Pelf Poems. Below are the most popular long Pelf by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pelf poems by poem length and keyword.
How do I acquire a place where I can forgive?
How can I stop blaming myself for my mistakes?
I can't recall the version of "Intrinsic", but it's conflictive,
None can quash them If you can't forgive rattlesnakes.
It's difficult to forgive wrongdoers who won't swage,
It's cruel to excuse inner suffering from a rapist's rage,
It's difficult to grace louts who have killed your family,
Spirits will not retaliate but can whip you clearly.
No, I'm not a saint; failure is not the same as forgiveness.,
That doesn't refer I must trust or favor the chorus,
He seems angel but he throws his seat through the window,
He is tiled with a shabby female tattoo on his elbow.
I felt vulgar, stupid, and useless,
Close to the leech and slimy worm, that's sageness,
Every smile contains a malicious chart, so I lack faith,
I endure on wobbly legs, wiping away tears and scathe.
How can I resist the urge to do things right?
Some people mind me a skeptic. My kids guess I'm bright,
In fact, they suppose I'm an incredible winner,
If they view suffering, it will improve my manner.
No one understands what I endure,
I am not in a position to reveal such rancor,
I'm tired of seeing and living a shabby life,
I wanted a widely used headline in some rife.
The tombs of our ancestors are everywhere,
Earth's soil is the body's dust, walk lento, and care,
The suffering of death is greater than the joy of birth,
O cooing doves bestow to the weeping, some mirth.
Some actions are held liable, but none are shrewd,
Every devout soul has a past, and every deceiver is lewd,
Who can you forgive if not the toughest opponent?
You are fully ungrown with this Atonement.
The blast radius of your grief can harm the soul,
What if the people around you are shown a rays hole?
What if you cling to someone else's roots to be injured?
It all begins with a runic visceral fear of the biohazard.
I select my destiny and discover myself,
Say farewell to my harsh youth with purity and pelf,
Today I saw the opposite of what you taught me,
I also forgive you for everything before I flee.
1st Place Contest Win.
Written: June 25, 2022
Forgiveness Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Not that folks out there are keeping score--
But I envision myself as something... more
However, the main obstacle getting in my way
Is predicting what could go wrong every day
Particularly because I tend to be strait-laced
No place around here is hiring me with haste
I didn't succeed in school to prep for a career
Now I lack proper income, year after year...
Even with 2 A.A.'s-- and scads more classes
Finding my niche has been slow as molasses
Now I found out that with just my library card
There's access to free courses which I regard
That should have been my entire college ed!
But they made me go, so I got debt instead
Sometimes I feel I do not belong in this city
But independence requires being more gritty
Yet since my goal is not merely to impress
I often long for simplicity, something... less
Imagining rising early-early to tend a small farm
Except I can't myself cause an animal any harm
I could gather hen eggs and learn to milk a cow
Would I be dedicated with my hand to the plow?
Fickle as I am, my indecisive discernment
Confuses me as where to be God's servant
Would I find purpose in the White Violet Center
Helping with crops and alpaca, being a mentor
Or am I destined to keep putting up with this mess
Stuck here in a trial of patience, & learning to bless
Being here for my mom later, in her elderly age
As she was here for me, from my earliest stage
I don't mind my role as a helpful "volunteer lady"
But I hope for job security, without turning shady
Perhaps my hobbies and art could be an online biz
Earning my bread without shoplifting as in Les Mis
Probably I missed my chance to be a cloistered nun
Now that I'm too old, & tried to have too much fun
It's just as well, since I need to take care of myself
Avoiding kidney stones doesn't contribute to my pelf
And in what climate could this Little Flower grow...
Do I really need all this sun, or could I endure snow
Have I been complaining literally this whole poem?
Guess that's what happens when I'm bored at home
Through it all, God has done great things for me
I'd like to offer more to show how He set me free
For more details, please see my Blog dated 7th April 11
'In India, a new Revolution is in the offing'
A New Hope shown by Anna Hazare in India
A new torch is there in your hands, dear Anna Hazare*,
A torch by which you are waking up the souls
Of millions and millions of our sleeping citizens.
To wake up and to remove the curses created by many of our
Corrupt bureaucrats and down to earth polluted politicians,
Such people inspire only directly or indirectly in my country
Violence, crime, corruption, and greedy coalitions.
No words are sufficient to thank you, O soldier of Gandhi,
As by non-violence, only Gandhi wanted to change the society.
God has given you an opportunity to do something,
O bold soldier
Several hundred thousands are standing with you and
Millions would join your campaign for removing the curse of corruption,
Effecting our country and many countries of the world,
All these are the result of ever-increasing greed and misdeeds of many such bureaucrats and politicians,
Such people are ruining many countries of the world by their
Ever increasing lustful temptations for money and greed for power and pelf.
In an era when the world is facing its new Renaissance of knowledge and awakening,
We salute your guts and efforts to bring a wind of change in my country.
Just keep walking with the torch of courage and hopes you have lighted,
As millions and millions more are waiting to join your efforts or
Waiting to start a campaign like this in every country,
As all the nations of the world are facing the tortures created by unworthy bureaucrats
and politicians.
Keep the torch high to light up the nation with a new light,
Our dear soldier Anna Hazare.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 08th April 2011
Anna Hazare* . Anna Hazare is a 73 years old man and one of India's
well-acclaimed social activists. A former soldier in the Indian army,
Anna is well known and respected for upgrading the ecology and
economy of the village of Ralegan Siddhi which is located in the
drought prone Ahmednagar district of Maharashtra state
Line of inquiry:
“Yes, I affirm, I have seen God
But He appeared and then disappeared
This knowing that transcends mind, left me awed
But until what’s imbibed is assimilated, by fears I’m seared”
Once I felt the power of God
It seeped into me like lightning,
Illumining the track it traversed
It settled somewhere down,
Within the vibrations of light and sound.
In my heart a delectable music swelled.
My life was deluged with song.
His guiding light led me through devious paths.
When was it that I lost connection with that power?
It happened gradually without my knowing
In course of time, it got veiled and eclipsed,
By the darkness of worldly desires.
I was caught in life’s swift current.
Wishing to stay afloat, l drifted,
Into the midst of peripheral comforts,
Like one chasing the deceiving mirage of the desert
My ego bloated like a balloon
I walked on stilts that I forgot the feel of my feet
I felt the stream of love narrowing into a trickle
And then drying out completely.
I was busy making money
In my mad rush after power and pelf,
I threw my values to the wind
Soon storms began raging into my life.
I was befriending gnawing anxieties and strangulating fears.
My dreams shattered like glassware
My world lost its rhythm and I lost my calm.
Life seemed to go on, leaving me behind
Never more I could endure the desolation
That hovered over my me like a dark shroud
Like a mother's despondency at the loss of her child,
An emptiness enveloped my spirit and being.
I knew it was not too late,
To recover all that I lost.
I decided to trace my steps backward,
And travel in reverse gear.
In all earnestness, I turned my downcast eyes heavenward
Soon I started breathing with greater ease
I began getting healed in love’s gentleness
Binding me to God through an unshakable bond
Like sunlight arching through the dark
Once more He came into my life to light my interiors
Now he resides within me, not at the periphery as earlier,
But deep down as a living power, changeless and timeless!
The corpus millennia has crawled down the vale,
Retracting the sleek ,unwieldy remnant of glory,
Into the memorial vault of the deceased perfection;
Romance with Nature in express affection
Set up structures of infinite wonder and storey ;
Wingless flights, finless aquatics and sail,
Put up a collage of conformity and compliance
With the Eden- norms on the planet of reliance.
Mastery, like a potter's wheel, shaped success
Out of the clay of daring and venture;
Finesse and goodwill brought forth the plethora
Of confident happiness, but in an aura
Of warning and threat of the nurture--
Fostering, Greed and his kin of all excess ;
The forbidden tree put up the succulent fruit,
And the disobedient eater turned into a brute.
Battles and wars were fought for trophies inane,
While the elements have kept tracing a new map ;
Fire has charred many a live greenery
Making it look like ill-painted scenery
Quakes and slides have always set a scary gap ,
Like the swiping flood and the howling hurricane;
Power, pelf and the wide stretch of win
Devastate as the victor lies in the forgotten bin.
No glib snake need tempt one now,
Since the Devil himself has choosen to dwell
In the inner depths of defiant ambition,
That leads to the dead end of perdition,
Through exploits, for the riches to swell;
Wants change and satiation never ceases anyhow;
Midas ,or a conqueror is not uncommon to find;
Avarice subdues the conscience to stay blind.
Time , the grizzled wizard watches with a frown--
A little amused and often with disdain--
The similar themes and slides in rotation,
With self-centred and wayward a mutation ;
The domain is lost in pursuing the gain :
Vain and rueful manoeuvres,yet no crown .
To rise to heights one need not fall,
Nor transgress equity - the bounds for all.
I really should'a read the fine print
When Evil came calling
On a fine sunny day
I was caught full napping
Didn't know what to say.
The dapper gentleman
With a Van Dyke set fine
Spoke in dulcet tones
Like sweet and mellow wine.
My name is I Levi
Very softly he said
I grant all one's wishes
Till the day they are dead.
For power and for pelf
If You strongly desire
Or bevy of beauties
To set your loins afire.
You ask me what you will
I'll grant it with a snap.
There is no hidden catch
There's no devious trap.
I had heard of dealings
With powers of the dark
Of dire trades of soul
Of hell-damnation stark.
I asked of I Levi
Of what I had to do
Just sign he smiled and said
Just common ink in blue.
Great doubts I had at first
But soon dispelled by greed
Quickly I read the script
Signed the mystic deed.
Great was wealth and power
My lot from that day on
Youth, vigour, virility
My cares and worries gone.
For full twelve months I lived
A life that Bacchus shamed
Wild, wanton, to the brim
No rein could make me tamed
Then one fine sunny day
While wining with a wench
Came Levi with a smile
And a terrible stench.
Your Time's up, my dearie,
He most cheerfully said
You are now Satan's guest
As now that you are dead.
I pleaded and begged
My tears started to sting
I told him of the deed
Where there was no such thing.
Softly Levi told me
What that day he had said
I grant all one's wishes
Till the day they are dead.
Your time here is ended
As ordained on Above
Your soul will be taken
Your Corpus feel the plough.
I've now learnt my lesson
Rather late in the day
Caveat Emptor holds
The fine print's always there.
I really should'a
Most carefully read da
Fine print then, Goddamn it!
Up but Down…part-5
“Poor place”, the spectral humming of the winds
Seems to tell, “the hills too would have to lose
Their birthright just like everyone of us.
On the way upward, somebody points
To a pitiful mile or so and tells
‘These are virgin forests left as they are’
But whereas on one side, rubber trees ooze
Sap through cuts where thick forests once were which
Bore not wounds but fruits and blooms in the past.
It’s only a question of time before
The virgins would bare themselves in sheer
Helplessness at man’s inhumanity.
The power station is off. More often than not.
With no power for itself to run
The power of water. Not a drop of it.
How imperceptibly we turn powerless
In our greed. To extract, to snatch, to steal.
From my place can I see a reservoir
Built by a far-sighted king of the past.
Yes, a grand pool of water it once was
Here can you now see miles and miles of sand
Dotted with puddles amidst bald hillocks.
A nuclear powe r station is being built
A little farther away. They have laid
Pipes to clear off even these puddles
To the project site. The signs of death and decay
Amidst the languishing signs of life
Is getting the stamp of authority.
And this region can now hope, sordidly
Hopelessly. To go through experiences
Which happen but once in a life time
Which will turn it to a land of thirst
Radioactive waste and wasted limbs.
We returned. Yes, a month ago. Not from
A hill of hope but one foreboding doom
Fast and noticeably. Must be changing
Fast. So when next time when we come looking out
If I too could gain something in my quest
For wealth, power and pelf, what will be left will
Be some fire-licked hills plus all their ills.
The Psyche aye seeks an end to sling
Its filaments wide across and all around ,
To ensnare it's weird, stray prey with a fling
And there comes the ominous web, ill- bound
To stay back and grab the first victim found ;
From out of the depth of the benumbed torpor
The creeping, coiling ,ruffling ,volatile thought ,
Ever entangled in plots beneath the stupor ,
Sneaks, to find it's clumsy, uneasy way out
Seeking some flaw or fissure along the coffer .
Despite the reach and the cold vicious win
The prize fetches not the full upright feel ;
No ransack nor test for the wrong or sin ,
As success above all ,reckons a good deal
And the wildness belches over the raw meal ;
The goal reached, only incites a new hover
As the impulsive sensors grab at one and all ;
While a little morsel, a small patch ,and cover
Suffice, needless is the trade so selfishly tall
That transacts the mode of contented survival.
Death ,destruction and fall haunt fear greater ;
Desire and greed dwell in selfish pleasure ;
Thirst needs only a satiable gulp of water ;
Pelf and riches, beyond being some treasure
Cannot buy real relief or intent in any measure ;
All wild pursuits, mere Quixotic , end in vain ;
Glamour and virtual success go sans form ,
Brittle trophies and awesome ravages disdain ;
One stands not even at where one began, forlorn
As the very ground beneath the feet is torn .
I still wonder the life and the meaning of it
The reason why I belong here...
The struggle, the humiliation
And the pain of smiling when tears are yet to fall.
Walking in the shadows of fear
I still wonder the life
Why little happiness is the sign of tears.
A little achievement is the struggle for pelf
And when I am done
They make me a king for a day
Yet tomorrow comes with a new challenge
And when I ask myself looking at the mirror
It has got nothing to say.
I still wonder the life and the existence of it
When they look at me with arrogance
And expectations pouring with fake complimentses
Greetings with roses turns out to be feces.
Cowering if am left with a penny today
The blood that I shed and the bruises and the scars
They see the same in me
Yet the same damn people put me down.
Running along side of self-discovery
I fear the loss of self-recovery
And when I think I can face the challenge
I look myself at the mirror with some motivation
Still it reflects me back the same collages.
I still wonder the life and the dedication towards it
For I am yet to concieve the love that it gives
And when it gave it paved me a path with hurdles
My long allegiance turned out to be a long malevolence.
Waking up to feel if I am left for today
And the morning moans with yester-days
Drowning endlessly by a single tear.
I worry not to loose my grip
And I looked myself once again at the mirror
It is not me then...
He is the person whose persuasion counts most then
Such a splendor all around me
So much to see and so much to do
For he is with me to clear up to the end
If I make the person in the mirror my friend.
Should you decide to stay in a hotel that is somewhat off the shelf,
Is quaint, a hundred years old but costs a reasonable amount of pelf,
The Steam Train Hotel is yer place in the town of Antonito, Colorado!
Guests have included my spouse and me and the occasional desperado!
There are few amenities and only eight rooms, all on the second floor.
'Tis a family operation and you are given a key to the hotel's entry door!
After they check you in, they head for home, available only by phone!
Baffled guests from thence are pretty much left to paddle on their own!
You enter a long, creepy hall and the floor creaks with each step taken!
(This was gonna be a thrillin' venture, of that there was no mistakin'!)
Antiques adorn each room and various geegaws are hangin' on the wall.
(I keep an eye peeled for fearsome ghosts and this casts a murky pall!)
U.S. Highway 265 passes right in front of the hotel addin' to my plight!
Convoys of infernal eighteen-wheelers keep me awake throughout the night!
There ain't no air conditionin' and it is hotter than you know where!
How I yearned for mornin' and salvation from my miserable despair!
The sun shone through the window revealin' a beautiful October morn!
We later boarded the Rio Grande steamer to begin our railway bourne!
Peerin' back at the hotel I thought it might've been haunted by spooky hosts,
But I reckon that it is probably too hot and noisy for even finicky ghosts!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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