Long Power struggle Poems
Long Power struggle Poems. Below are the most popular long Power struggle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Power struggle poems by poem length and keyword.
Refugees are humans, people with sunlit dreams
wishing revenge and pain soon would be gone;
hearts held in vigils, their grief unabated
as rudely cups the night in some foreign place,
to will their wings, freedom from bondage cries.
Journeying far when nights tear homes away
while they await destiny, a time of real peace
clutching on hope no vain attempt for women,
and children bathing in pools of fear-
just because a riddled power struggle taints
this will to live rightly, a universal command.
Stand aloft with the breeze, be mightily proud
let your echoes roar on as liberty sings.
People Contest hosted by Richard Lamoureux
June 2, 2018
Within prismed images I was captured
along with twilight as it tinted the sky.
We were ensnared during a power struggle
at the hour when sunlight wrestled the moon.
Neither wanted to vacate the celestial throne.
But I was the one fighting hardest to survive
when beveled tongues along mirrored edges
roared at me in the wilderness of life's jungle.
Voices were raised that sounded vaguely familiar.
The bitterness echoed and surrounded me.
I was blinded by distorted light from all directions.
Hunted like prey in the wilds,
staying alive proved to be a fractious task.
But fracturing seemed to be my only way out.
I broke down the walls of the reflective maze
and walked over dagger blades of broken shards.
Mirrors that are not hung never pose a threat.
Recently, I thought upon the story of Jesus and his disciples having their Last Supper together. I considered the fact that there were few food items with which to part take. Or were there? For example, just to name a few, there was the bread, the water, and the wine; there seems to be no record of any other foods present. Or were there? There were other types of non physical food items present; the kind that does not enter via the mouth. For example, love, tenderness, and compassion were very present. Should I even mention that there was The Presence of The Almighty God wrapped in human flesh and speaking of how much he appreciated having a meal with his disciples?
Moreover, there was also selfishness with a topping of desires to be the greatest. There was a 'power struggle' between his disciples at the divine table of God. There was the 'love of money' saturated with greed; and so obvious to everyone, there was an overflowing of over confidence and down right cockiness.
'Servant hood', although not a very desirable and tasty item, was also a highly present entree. It moves me to tears to think upon the vast menu and entree at God's table. However, I am forced to choose only one entree for this Divine purpose. My taste buds gravitate toward 'the entree of service'. I must confess that this taste bud is not a 'natural one', but one obtained by observing the "Master Server" who said, "I am among you as one who serves". Lk. 22:7
We are programed by nature with a desire to be served. A baby is born with an attitude that does not ask, "May I help you please?" On the contrary, it seems to come with a list of demands like, "I want food, and I want it now!" Nothing is wrong with the baby. It's just the way we are born into this world.
Let me suggest that when we gather as family and friends for dinner this Easter, let there be something on the table more than ham and roast and a host of other delicious foods. let's open our spiritual eyes a little bit wider. I think that we will notice the Christ, not only serving up the 'Bread of Life" and saying, "Let Me Serve You", but He would be inviting us to join him in 'serving one another'.
04152017 cj PS
Line of inquiry:
“feeling not thinking, soul with love linking ~
we attained God consciousness unblinking”
There are times I'm torn between feeling and thought,
consciously aware of a dispute between mind and heart.
I become anxious when I realize there's a power struggle
and my doleful soul seeks a tranquil place to snuggle.
Somewhere deep inside of me where it's more docile
until my heart and mind call for a truce and reconcile.
Unfortunately, that's short-lived... a temporary thing.
Until again, they'll fight like pugilists in a boxing ring.
Rodin didn't sculpt The Thinker inside each human mind
but the psyche often chides the heart, "Love really is blind."
Divine, are those gifts God has so generously given to us
but they don't always come to terms, and it creates a fuss.
The heart yearns for love, the mind searches for a reason.
Scripture says the heart is treacherous and commits treason.
My mind stands guard, to prevent my heart from breaking
but despite the risk, my heart finds it worth the undertaking.
A logical mind weighs pros and cons, thinking pragmatically
Bah, cries a heart, "Life should be lived more romantically."
They grind on each other as if one a mortar, the other a pestle
And so, the mind and heart will continue to quibble and wrestle.
The soul always reappears when a modicum of peace holds fast
but the truce between heart and mind is destined never to last.
Although instrumental to a soul's well-being, they will disagree.
Mind rules a heart, or vice versa. Que sera sera. What will be will be.
I never leave my point blank
Point Blank!
At the point of a saber
Now we are at the point of danger
The point shatters
Friends stab me in the back with daggers and i stagger
Grab her,Nah! but I'll take a stab at it
Aw! I never set hearts on fire or dash hopes at all
I aspire to inspire you
Now desire is a furnace
burning inside a word of encouragement
So i pour on your heart soft pure words
Uplifting impressions that just may last forever
Or at least brighten your outlook on life
And rare is a one who can make your day better
No! I don't consider to compare myself
to the choisest comparisons available
You know Stallions fight for the power
Men are no different
expect their words to be slippery as a serpents
Detect lip service
as they profess their minds to be a place of higher learning
I crash and burn then
I don't attempt to reach the highest level of stupidity
Echos of Justice descend into frescoes of the Liberty bell
Fractured as it is now
Snap^ Ice bergs rise up as you fall off the Ice shelf
Glaciers crack_-tons of ice grind into sluishes of Beautiful Love stories
Harmony sings happiness restored
Thoughts shared in the stillness
We can hear each other
Zero seconds to a Sonic boom!
O days left
It's Autumn and the leaves fall now
Flowers fade and overhead
shooting stars give their last light of Glory
And now new stars are born
to carry on, to die for a wish, to create hope
A voice coil expands
A tiger pounces on a lion
Two young cubs involved in a power struggle
I fall into Indian paintbrushes
I hear the petals crush doubts
No doubt about it
Truth - Justice - Trust
Three players around a bridge table
move their pieces on the game board,
all the Squares are Red
from blood spilled by making the wrong move,
for believing the lies of a worthy opponent called Truth
eyes that lie - lies of a spy - all rolling the same die -
power struggle to control the outcome of the game
first over the wall and across the bridge wins.
Roll the dice if you dare take the chance of making the wrong move.
What is the risk if the rules of the game keep changing?
Justice cheats but Justice is blind; not to the strategy of opponents.
Truth lies and Trust can't be trusted to tell the truth.
Pretense and subterfuge
Three players around the bridge table. Who holds the winning piece?
Will Trust be the loser if he's caught in the middle?
If he believes Truth and Justice he should be called Gullible.
Blowing up the bridge table would put an end to Trust
an end to the game - of the world? Liberty does have a price.
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2/24/16 Pick a Theme Contest: Craig Cornish
A wheel of revolution is set and rolled
The historian studies the track of the wheel
Its total journey and any incidental events
The philosopher studies the structure of the wheel
The political doctrine
The politician wants to lead the wheel
Power struggle
The voters want to control the wheel
Democracy
The scientist wants to speed up the wheel
If relevant, like the information revolution
Time wants to proceed the wheel
Axial revolution of the clock gear
The dying welcomes the wheel
The reincarnation of the wheel of life
The poor man says no words about it
And the poet just awaits
A little chance to review if any
Beneath kohl sky, the war of words rattles
As fierce lightning of his voice, my thunderous replies
Pour a lethal elixir, its venom malignant
Demanding a power struggle between forces,
On one tearing night which assaults the senses:
How whipping air deepens a rugged course
Where darkness gathers heightened energy;
Vicious as the gnaws of a charged torrent.
I saunter out to clear an overcast mind,
Breathing in the rain, the moist vapor
While my fingers raise high in soulful appeal
Until a dot of a star enters into my body...
Gradually, the storm passes by, as if
Nothing on the byway stirs a gory hour;
That in pure clarity, I open the kitchen door
And maybe, through divine intervention,
He embraces me in the middle of his vulnerability.
Perfect Storm Contest ---for Craig Cornish
10/4/2017
Talk about power struggle
I've been in the middle of it
Ever since mum and dad hit a puddle
And they were like they'd had enough of it
We were young to see the cracks
Maybe we sat on the cracks
Or we were the cracks ourselves
Cause they'd argue in front of us
We were part of the conversation,
but not in a nice way
Cause we were mummy's shield
From the blows and insults dad would hurl
All we remember was we then saw dad less
Then mum became more withdrawn
And she lost her glow soon after
Cause we were overwhelmed in debt
We had to change schools,
First time for me and my sister to be apart
I wondered why did I have to go with dad
And leave my sister behind with mum
It was hard already that life had changed
From all those drapes and grapes
To now torn clothes and down sizing
That's how powerful that final sign meant
The PO£T
I dread to read the headlines
They are so filled with strife
The tyranny and trauma
Has touched on every life.
What is it with us humans
We think we are supreme
We are but a corpuscle
It makes me want to scream.
We entertain the bull that’s plastered on the screen
We don’t need to be tolerant this
Borders on obscene.
They’re constantly painting pictures of things you must believe
There is a power struggle
Like none you’ve ever seen.
The west and east are at it
The far left and the right
The colour card is flashing red
It’s time to get off pitch
This power hungry game they’re playing
Democracy is fraying
Innocents they’re slaying
The devil is the puppeteer his pulling all the strings
Yet they think they are kings.
The trumpet call is coming.
With it the mighty horn
And Gods word and promise
Will remove from Earth this thorn.