Long Plea for help Poems
Long Plea for help Poems. Below are the most popular long Plea for help by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Plea for help poems by poem length and keyword.
Tears are the prayers that can't be spoken
Love of God is love the can't be broken
Dreams are wishes for God to see
Thoughts are ways God talks to me
The devil can talk through thoughts too
Baptism makes those thoughts anew
Confession clears those thoughts of grime
But you must clean them more than one time
The devil isn't all horns and fire
He shows up as whatever you desire
He floods your brain with pride and power
He won't stop until there is none to devour
He'll be a dream, whatever you need
He'll give you everything, fill you with greed
He will take when you are at your lowest
He'll catch you when you are at your slowest
There is only one thing you need the most
It is the father, the son, and the holy ghost
Only those three can stop you from sin
They always conquer, they always win
Now I sit here, thinking about these verses
Is it a prayer to God, or the devil's curses
Is it a plea for help, or a cry to God
Is it a real feeling, or just a facade
I want to say a prayer thst can't be spoken
I want to, but there's a streak that can't be broken
I can't let a tear slip even for my own good
Even if I'm trapped on some piece of driftwood
Even if a bomb would blow me to bits
Oh homework oh homework you're giving me fits
Nature's first green is gold
But this green is getting old
The leaf subsides to leaf
So Eden sank to grief
I can't have my way
Nothing Gold Can Stay
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame
There is not a chance he could
Stop and take the blame
O Captain, My Captain
I wish you were here
The ship is anchored safe and sound
We miss you very dear
The end is near
Trumpets I hear
The angels all exalting
Once upon this midnight dreary, I'm feeling lost, weak and weary
I feel sick in my stomach waiting for more
My time has come, I hear the knocking at my door
But there's just some bird there saying, "nevermore"
Hello?
Is there anyone out there?
Can anyone hear me?
Hello?
You there. Yes I am speaking to you.
Please can you help me?
Where are you going?
No. No. wait.
Please dont leave me alone.
I need your help.
Why is this keep happening?
Why does it hurt so bad?
What did i do to deserve this?
Im trying. Believe me Im trying.
Im trying as hard as i can,
But i just cant do it.
Everywhere i turn
seems like an opportunity
but when i turn to that opportunity
it seems to jump everywhere
I cant no more.
I just simply cant do it.
Doctor. Nurse. Best friend. Mentor
So much potential but will it come true
Or will they just disappear into the blue
I just cant no more
So many times i hear im sorry
i have never seen this occur
then i get a shrug of the shoulders
They dont care really
As they move on with their lives
to my pillow is where i run
To shed my tears
thinking about all of my fears
Thinking of all my faults
No where to run, nowhere to hide
All the pain is just building inside
it hurts so much but i must smile
because i must fulfill my duty
My duty to serve all out there
but what happens when i cant
will the world end?
will the earth shatter?
no they will move on and find another
one to be strong as a father and
as caring as a mother
but what about me? huh.
Is there no one, anyone
please hear my plea for help
please hear my plea for guidance
the pain. the hurt. the disappointment
is just too much to bear.
please what more can i do
please what more can i say
i dont want your money
I dont need your pity
A shoulder to lean on
is all im asking for
A caring heart is all i seek
please...please....please
do you see these tears flowing from my eyes
I hope you do because this might
be the last time you do
For after tonight,
there will be no more me...
The Ocean Air filled the ship,
a gray cloud swam before her eyes,
feelings dipped, emotions flipped,
and her mind filled with cries,
then ghosts sprawled into the shadows,
she didn’t understand what was going on here,
first the ocean air, then fear,
but she wanted to go to America to end a relationship
with her boy-friend,
it had to be done in person,
and that’s the only way their relationship would end,
should end,
so crossing the ocean air,
was the only way she’ll get there,
but something terrible was happening,
haunting, chilling,
thrilling, not fulfilling.
She thought she was dreaming,
the ship streaming
on top of the ocean waves,
she coiled arms around his picture in a frame,
closed her eyes just the same,
cracked a misleading photogenic smile,
held it awhile,
then the ship started shuddering, fluttering,
heading into the dimness,
propelled a few more feet,
smoke came, then heat,
screams that tortured her eardrums were heard,
God even heard the Atheist’s word,
their plea for help came in loud and clear,
when death comes, they too fear,
the impact blew down her door,
bodies on the floor,
ceilings and panels cracked then let go,
furniture on the flow,
being carried away by the rushing stream,
a cloud of dust filled the ocean air,
and the end felt near.
No mockery when grown men cry,
no mercy when they would die,
Angels flying,
children crying,
God trying,
as the water was pulling them into a crush embrace,
and all she wanted was to see his face,
the break-up had to be a face to face,
the ocean’s embrace almost made her pass out from pain,
everything was crazy,
everything was insane,
history was made that day,
and it was certainly no prank,
he wouldn’t hear what she had to say,
because it was the day the Titanic sank
In a land where shadows linger long,
A tale unfolds of a people's song.
Apartheid's chains, a cruel embrace,
Enslaved hearts in a divided space.
Kindred souls, with no love for gold,
Living lives where stories are told.
No ego's sway, no material desire,
Yet, history unfolds, a somber fire.
Through years of colonization's hand,
A web woven tight across the land.
Black against black, a twisted game,
Materialism's rise, igniting the flame.
Brothers turned enemies, sisters in strife,
A discord sown in the fabric of life.
Marriages crumble, love replaced,
By a hunger for wealth, an insatiable taste.
Men with men, for coin's allure,
Sisters sell bodies, hearts impure.
Fathers oppressed, bearing the weight,
Of a legacy forged in a bitter fate.
Mothers, once pillars, now torn between,
Feminist fervor, a tumult unseen.
Destroying man, a misguided quest,
As unity crumbles, a nation oppressed.
In the chaos, a stark divide,
White families thrive, with values beside.
Raising children free from trauma's stain,
While others suffer from history's pain.
Land ownership a tale of despair,
As the majority's share becomes rare.
Charges for power, land, and more,
A cruel toll on a people's core.
Nelson Mandela, once hailed with cheer,
Now accused, a clone, a double near.
ANC's leaders, bellies filled with greed,
Stealing from those with the greatest need.
A nation weeps, in sorrow and woe,
As the coming generation begins to sow,
Seeds of despair, young lives entwined,
In a web of darkness, seeking to find.
Awakening sought in the depths of despair,
A plea for help, a nation's prayer.
To break the chains and rise above,
Reclaiming a heritage, a legacy of love.
A love twisted in a high school romance,
Both fixated on puppy dog eyes,
Skipping classes followed by lies,
Predictions to never be seperated,
Only as much as parents tolerated,
They would run if given the chance,
Upon a mellow river rusted a louring mill,
Dim lit repairs by a scarecrow of a man,
Alongside the river it was a small span,
As skeletal hands of the mill snag floating logs,
Rising sun now pierces mountain fogs,
A cold chill replaced by warmth that begins to fill,
Brackish waters breed fish teeming angling,
A plaid retiree toats an unknowing burden,
For upon the rocks a body rolled in curtain,
Fumbling hands dial the sheriff's office,
Resulting in a stomach turned nauseous,
Thoughts race from torture to strangling,
Students murmor rumors over empty chairs,
As sherriff pulls students for questioning,
While a plea for help at a parent's beckoning,
Cries heard aloud through echoing halls,
Answers from questions expose a plethora of flaws,
Tensions tighten because this small town cares,
Foghorns sound as headlights cross beams,
Moonlit mist hides a livid discord,
Only witness, a fisherman shipboard,
Rocks shuffle around steadfast feet,
Argument ends in the shore's peat,
Unwanted blood spills ending young dreams,
Narrow light leaves a lifeless body luminous,
Examiner removes an entombed clue,
Beneath a fingernail a piece of paper folded in two,
Unfolded the bloodied paper reveals vastly,
An agent must be summoned lastly,
For murders like this may be numerous.
There is pain in the city today Lord
tears came with the morning wind
I’m down on my knees
searching for my brothers and my sisters
promises of forever changed forever within moments
let the mercy begin
Dreams of tomorrow are now yesterday’s memories
families lost with strangers...life lost with innocence
kiss them softly for they have suffered
protect them all from harm’s way
and let them be forever warm
let the mercy begin
Planes flew in the sky right through to heaven’s gate
a nations strength resolved from the dust of towers
the price of freedom paid for in full on a country field
fortress warriors taken without quarter
lay each one of them so softly and gently down
let the mercy begin
A choir of heroes each one a protector of life
men and women who answered every plea for help
brave comrades falling in the flames as many to save the few
let their heartbeats become heaven’s eternal sweet symphony
allow our lives to be a reflection of their true courage and spirit
let the mercy begin
Our distance apart is now but a breath of time
to find one another…simply reach to the sun
in the sound of a child’s laughter
and when I yearn for the gentleness of their touch
I will need only to hold a butterfly in my hands
let the mercy begin
IRISH
Dedicated to the New York City Fire Department
Written in Chicago, Sept 12th, 2001
I am buried alive
My thoughts and actions digging me deeper
These transgressions surround me
Forming a coffin I'm bound in
A living beast I'm sentenced to
These claw marks are my struggles
My plea for help
As darkness creeps heavier and heavier on my soul
A beam of light presents itself
Freedom
Lend a hand and set me free
And I promise to do the same for you
Where is your shovel?
Where is your weapon of choice?
I'm falling deeper and deeper into this abyss
Just let me hear your voice
I am being lifted
I can finally breath the sweet moist air
The smell of death and soil surrounds me
But all I see is light
A mirror
And my reflection is the grave digger
I put myself here
Clothed in pig's skin
With a crown of bones
I have demonized me
Lend me a hand and set me free
And I promise to do the same for you
Where is your shovel?
Where is your weapon of choice?
I'm falling deeper and deeper into this abyss
Just let me hear your voice
Let me leave this place of death
If you'll open the gate
I promise I'll walk through
Cleanse me and bathe me
Show me your forgiving hand
Show me what forgiveness is
Bury this cloak of filth
These things that weigh me down
You dig the hole
And I'll toss this aside
I'm burying myself again
Walking away a new creation
dead on the inside rotten one the outside
should go and hide but hindered by my pride
try to be unique but treated like a leper
standing tall but crumbling under pressure
take a look and you’ll see its a charade
marching like pro lifers at a pro choice parade
in the midst of something you don’t understand
watching and waiting for that elusive master plan
life is a gift that you should not be missing
but have you ever heard of re gifting?
all lives are equal! what a useless joke
search for that truth through the deceptive smoke
I’m not one to criticize what I don’t understand
or to preach about putting it to the man
that chapters over we know we cant win
but is wanting something better really a sin?
I write poems about what I feel or know
this ones my heart despite the freak show
aim for something better but to slow on the draw
work for what you want. guess what my hands are raw
I’m still homeless, jobless, and trying to persevere regardless
things look up and then you get hit the hardest
this isn’t a complaint or a plea for help
I don’t want anyone I’m better by myself
trust in those who are closest to you
I looked for help and instead got pushed through
I’m done with this poem and I’m sure you are too
just remember the only person there for you is you
Form:
In my dreams;
I see the malicious red flames lick away our prized possessions
and we watched mesmerized,
while it destroyed years of labor.
Years of slavery by our fathers of old
years of suffering by the weak; the coward
years of struggle by the fearless; the bold.
drums of sweat; drums of blood
it was the ransom for our possessions paid
the warm victory earned by a sweat of blood
the wicked raging fire now consumes.
As my eyes this painful sight beheld,
I feel a dull ache in my heart,
choking sobs wrench my throat.
Just then, I start from the bed,
it had been a dream; a nightmare
No, I had dreamt in reality
and the dull ache grows
till it resonates with the sound of pounding pestles.
The red flame was our greed
our possessions; our dignity, honesty, and personality
once again we sold ourselves into slavery, a bondage of freedom.
My heart shatters and I weep for my fatherland
My gaze fixed as it were on the raging flames
I see the smug faces of my fathers
lay curse as they gnash their teeth in pain
angry at the heritage that made fools of them
Silently they watch us suffer
and trampled on by strangers
I crouch in fear, trembling, sweating
and I say a word of prayer,
a plea for help, just for my fatherland.
I was in the middle of creating when I realized how gloomy everything was turning. I was placing mean words on the paper. I had started with the word inspiration…..so how had this happened? I stared in horror at my words, which had turned dark and angry.
Apparently I had spent too much time in my tomb this weekend – blinds shut, dog on lap, two fourteen hour days of sheer darkness, lit only by unhappy fast moving TV people – detectives, solving murder after murder. A steady diet of UGH.
Have you taken a peek at your children and grandchildren’s video games? I have. They are not much better than what I had done to myself this weekend. But they are younger, and I should have known better. All this yellow tape and meanness to humanity is not good for this garden-loving grandma.
I can only imagine children’s bleak hopelessness on Monday after a steady diet of swear words and killing on the weekends. Has anyone who is an adult played Fortnight? The most popular killing video game and free to your children? I can barely function today after my weekend, and I am supposedly a grownup.
Take a peek at what your children are doing. And help them, and then come to my house, tear down my blinds and break my TV okay?