Long Privation Poems
Long Privation Poems. Below are the most popular long Privation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Privation poems by poem length and keyword.
~ I am a Conservative
Here is who I am
and what I stand for ~
C onserving what is worth preserving
O pen to changing what's not working
N ot willing to throw out the baby with the bathwater
S teadfast when those around me are scurrying
E nabling my children and relatives to succeed
R eligious in the ecumenical sense of the word
V itally interested in my community's welfare
A larmed by the rise in incivility in public discourse
T ender-hearted and giving to the stranger, the widow, the orphan
I nterested in politics, but not obsessed with it
V oracious reader of classical fiction and non-fiction
E nduring privation graciously, with faith and trust in God
Cells work is play
to resiliently thrive
only in organic systems.
Individual yolked cells
each with her own ego-governor
survive healthy together
and divide tragically apart
More like symbiotic regenerations
of surfing cantilevers
than degenerations
outside predations
storming waves
of colonizing cancers.
Transgendering
transubstantiating
transitions can be both
Too hard on ego yolks
and too soft for ecobodies
become some One boundaried else
while too soon severing
into not yet Zero
Sacrificed for tomorrow's
unconditional regard
in-between
One secular EgoZone
and not yet Zero sacred
systemic EarthTribe soul
Remembering past memories
mindful of mind-cell fullness
side by side solidarity
re-imaging severed
individual unrealistic cells
Crests of history's
great transitioning wave
from individual hot burning stars
to seas of cold
dead
dry dust
Awaiting warmer wetter rust
for light and power
to co-arise
more resilient religious lust
Inside crusts
of ego loving centers
and their living eco-kin
becoming back and forth,
together and apart
again
Enlightenment
and death,
empowering internal concerns
losing out to expatriating cancers
Co-invested
ego risks of past
colonizing power
and eco loss of future
creolizing opportunities
Individuating
systems for regeneration
and recycling seasons
of winter's new annual privation
Spring therapy
and autumnal trauma,
health
and pathology
Unconditional regard
and conditioned
hardening cells
of frozen disregard
For innocent Othered cells
whose work is also play
to resiliently thrive
Only in organic systems
unconditionally regarding
this enlightened
empowering day
Swings of Yang bright light
mesmerizing Yin's eternal
sabbath sway.
If Lucifer and heaven's angels fell
before a time when man first walked the earth,
and ages hence conceived the virgin birth,
wherefore was I meant for this life of hell?
If God is so benign, then why the tale
of my lifelong privation (of love, hearth)
repeats, whilst consuming up all my worth:
as if my soul's cursed with no holy grail?
Before my dawn's emergence, fate conspired
with darkness to assault and end my name;
together, they erased all I desired,
wished for, worked for, planned for, then mocked my shame.
So I, like Milton, rose up: and, inspired,
played rhyme's grandmaster moves in life's chess game!
Vincent The Stray
Mind soldiers march on but who is the private not yet
promoted from privation to privacy from battle to peace
Vincent feline and feral with one ear gone hungry and
tattered ripped to shreds fed from our bowls growling
scared and scarred for what little of life had remained
One morning he floated and bloated he remained on the
surface of the swimming pool as an authentic reminder
of impermanence suicide without doubt but was it him
or Van Gogh who copied and pasted in the year of the cat
Drowned pirate freebooter cut throat privateer or maybe
liberated sovereign unimpeded marauder questing the
crests surfing where crowd became solitude’s dereliction
Other cats follow us round and posit the question of
who is master and mistress who owns whom for how
long whose copy is mocked and impersonates mime
Struggles are plenty so many questions alit and abound
blazing individual communion patching eyes ears senses
delusions illusion of distinguished misery and fabulous
mystery and possibly Vincent the cat and the painter
Sadly and wisely comprehended sophisticated responses
and answers to the meaning of living together and alone
when to follow congregation or when requirements vanish
05th December 2016
I told the world about my cure
Nobody gave a damn
For a moment, I felt just like a god
I’m reminded I’m a man
That boulder that’s upon your back?
It’s a tiny pebble, bro
How big you think the audience is
To your one-man show?
In the theater of the deep escape
Nobody’s willing to pay
They just want junk and velvet drapes
And to block the crisis away
I told the world about my dream
They nearly spit out their drink
I thought they were all just waiting to hear
Exactly what I think
That guillotine your head is in?
Seems to fit like a collar and tie
And before you know it, it’s laundry day
Ain’t nobody cryin’ no soapy tears
The day on which you die
In the theater of intoxicants
No talk of want or privation
(Just) the carrying of buttery hands
From the lobby of negation
Deus de muitas formas
The god of many forms
Lights the ancient darkness
Killing European norms
So come and swoon the Soma dream!
No curtain can conceal!
Tiny vagrant aristocracies
Amid sugar and ramps of steel
The maddened wench of river escape
Kills her child to feel
Don’t you be another Lennon ape
Crying, “Nothing is real”
Don’t be another Lennon ape
Singing, “Nothing is real”
In Nigeria, obnoxious decrees seal my lips.
Edicts made and interpreted by rubber stamps
are enforced by judicial merchants and chief whips.
I risk going to the gulag and confinement camps
if I don't sugar coat fudging and deceit.
I must sugar-coat and seal my lips with sugar,
with the sweet lure of toadying that makes me bigger,
or unveil malfeasance and have my abrupt exit.
Each prerogative denied comes with a reward;
The prerogative of elusive energy
The prerogative of the residents' award
The prerogative of the school leavers' Energie
The prerogative of entitled wellbeing
The prerogative of mandatory instruction
elude all, but benefit few by decreeing.
Toxic decreeing of rationing and privation.
The misery of all benefits a select few;
A chosen cabal in the radar of government's view.
We gregarious beings live to expand and the most admirable thing is that we grow faster when we move together. When we share life with pals and loved ones, every moment becomes a treasure worth wrapping and preserving inside heart. Just a little thought, just a little effort can ignite us to contribute to a bright future.
Could we sit together and do meditation?
Could we ensure that we belong to the nation?
Could we move away from theological apprehensions?
Could we extend ourselves in cooperation?
Could we help in growth and education?
Could we work together for restoration?
Could we know that we are one despite varied location?
Could we grow above just personal recognition?
Could we stop permanently being on vacation?
Could we support people suffering in privation?
Could we curb the painful hideous starvation?
Could we control unwanted, untoward vexation?
VEXATION: The state of being annoyed, frustrated, or worried.
HIDEOUS: Ugly
PRIVATION: A state in which food and other essentials for well-being are lacking.
an Arabian sonnet
Greetings to one who cries for salvation;
God hears the tears of your desolation.
Crying for our Lord’s shield from privation
strength comes, Messiah gives confirmation.
One day spent as keeper of His threshhold,
one day guarding the gate to His sheepfold,
better by far than one searching for gold.
No good thing will God’s Anointed withhold.
From your tears, create a thirst-quenching spring,
build fountains so gushing water can bring
life-giving strength and glory for our King.
How lovely, His tabernacles of praise,
How safe, the shelters He calls us to raise,
How blessed, strength to strength in God’s dwelling place.
Inspired by Psalm 84
April 19, 2021
contest: Your best sonnet this year so far
sponsor: John Hamilton
She loved me, she whispered in my ear
My ear was thrilled for ecstasy
Ecstasy with unconditional love.
Love became illusions and lies
Lies founded on hatred
Hatred tumbled my heaven
Heaven of virtual love
Love towards a Godot
Godot, a cybernetic Land
Land distant from me
Me deprived of her waters
Waters privation starts thirst
Thirst of man disdains
Disdains because even grass and trees dry
Dry trees circulate no sap and bear no leaves
Leaves hotness flips them down
Down to perish in an environment
Environment burning high
High is the thirst of man
Man suffering heat and thirst
Thirst, nowhere to quench
Quench it to redeem my manhood
My manhood requests particular water
Water makes man’s life
Life in inferno to become dehydrated
Dehydrated are men in such a hell.
Poem by Ndabuli Mugisho
In clay is cast thoughts and emotions in blend;
In fire is melted and forged the needed mend;
Every crude design must find a mode and form
That is entrancing, expressive and cozily warm.
He was fidgety all through the passing hours:
His sculpting hand had failed the facial covers.
A rare chosen task ,chiselled and cut so well
Till the rock found the contented intent swell
But the bust still did not define the inner kind,
The artifice of what was in his clear, fixed mind;
The tools chipped, hewed and traced the move,
Yet it put up a nonchalant look ,nothing to prove ;
On the pedestal now stood a statue, in all might
And stature,well to get the great applause aright;
But the sculptor, within his self sought the cause,
Aloof from the creative world, he had the pause.
It was certain : that was not the image of his cut;
Something improper ,had just come out in a rut;
A true semblance close, but sans the live spirit,
A hard set face, with a look, blank and cold on it
The renown, faith or the success it had brought,
Hurt him more as the divine pleasure he sought
Was denied ,despite his honest work to impress;
Moments were lost in deep agony and distress.
On a moonless night he broke his own creation,
And slyly left to trace the cause of his privation ;
The art-realm abounds with finesse and reality
But it's dwellers are close to madness and futility
Nature's real replica in copy, often goes astray--
As the divine experience has a momentary stay;
Like a tangent ,art may touch even the virtual sin
And yet remain serene with its message to win;
Only the adept and gifted flair, free from the ego,
Reaches the range and mark of perfection,or No!