Long Rage Poems
Long Rage Poems. Below are the most popular long Rage by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rage poems by poem length and keyword.
It’s not just Jesus who rose into grace with scars from nails and the cross
Trees grow new branches from knots like wounded soul’s blemish’s scars
A rainforest’s undergrowth thrives in the mist of weeping from heaven
Ebony needs ivory for harmony preferably with tusks attached to the rhino
An elephant under cover of the hat inside a boa constrictor pleases the Prince
Joaquin would write poetry had he not been swallowed by a black raven
On his shoulders and dogs that growl can bite fiercely with razor sharp fangs
Puncture marks empathize when they emphasize conjunction and junctures
A semicolon tattoo depicts the survivor from darkness shadows and light
No smoke without fire and his pen could not heal without fountains of sorrow
Juanita views wrinkles and stretch marks as cinnamon bark’s fine poise
Hides no longer self-harm lacerations with bracelets or covering bangles
Heals from a maze of disgraced projections owns grazes slashes and cuts
Paints a new canvas frames it with witch-hazel twigs leaves howling behind
Sounds all three pedals on forte’s piano has dampened onslaughts of fear
Joseph is a seer who had once lost his vision had dangled his ropes both sides
Of the sea saw but recovered the fulcrum of balance reads palm trees and palms
Life lines strife lines blisters blistering hardship hardened calluses’ resilience
Scars do not scare him as he places his faith into prayer gracing graces and hope
Tosses tussles meaning and harmony moulds silent retreat into flickering candles
‘Can’t put all your eggs into one basket no ominous pancakes without breakage’
What does not bend splinters and rages oozes and festers in foul purulent rage
Confusion needs contradictory feelings or one crosses Styx and Acheron too early
And the boatman needs both oars and currents to negotiate drift wood and pain
Any two master needs departure and destination roaring storms and calm respite
True ivory cannot be burnt and grace is a virtue but not without turning the table
21st April 2019
Fit of Rage…
Can’t control your conviction
Over the exact order of things
Won’t second guess your emotion
To sacrifice your needs
But then the line is strayed
Your uncharted course
Time after time you scream out
In a fit of rage…
Oh, Oh, Oh, in a fit of rage…
It all seems so simple
To see things the right way
If we’re open to compromise
And mean the things we say
And it seems ridiculous
That certain things must happen
I’ve had it up to here and I’ll scream out
In a fit of rage…
Oh, Oh, Oh, in a fit of rage…
…I try to talk myself into believing how things have to be
Attain the unattainable, constantly achieve
Pushing to be as one, unlike any other…
I’ve got to scream out, in a fit of rage
My eyes are deceiving me, a blind man in a cave
Feeling for an answer, eternal freedom for a slave
Years, I said years of sacrifice and self-inflicted pain
Now, before my eyes a lifetime
It is my hope all was not in vain…
Still time and again I’ll scream out
In a fit of rage…
[....preface......books are translated from one language to another....words
and phrases differ or be as non-existent.....such was so in shakespeares
time; most were farmers and or craftsmen; so, plays were then altered due to their respectve languages and cultures.....]
Hamlet: 'Self talking to his psychological Other' (what be reality?)
------------------------------------------
Self:.....to be or not?...
Other:..to be?...that is the quest 'shunned'...
to weather be no blur in the mind to suffer... : )
S: ...slings? and...arrows? of...outer-airs rage?...
O: ...us are 'two'...mmm... : )
S: ...no oar!?...to shake-harm...again!?...uffff!....
O: ...see...'off-troubles'...and...by 'opt-posing, send them to die... : )
S: ...oar?...sleep?...now?...
O:...more!...and by 'sleep' say...we end the heartaches...and send
nature an...'ah shucks...these flashes are there too go...in a
suns-notion...devoutly to be wished'... : )
stan
When threat, doubt or danger treacherously
loomed over me, I felt the despicable
untruthfulness of most friends
whose mouths were volcanos
erupting, destroying what I had built:
that stronghold of trust towering
over them when their trustworthiness
would have gladden me. ..
not being torn apart by their
misdeeds and pretenses.
I listened to mom when the tide rose,
when the turbulent waves battered
the defenseless rocks on any winter's night,
" My dearest boy, watch out for the slithering
serpent who makes no noises, but attacks viciously
in an instant." Then her words made no sense,
their meaning wasn't caught; today, listening
to their echo, I am against the foe in a tempest!
And I relentlessly fight to free myself from
the rage it creates while faces of mockery appear,
their laughter loudly resonates; I cover my ears
under the heavy sheets to block out their sound,
" You still listen to mom, grow up and come with us,
live life! Be a man like us, doing whatever delights us...
there's no limit in what we can do. Who's going to be
to be there for you when she's no longer around?
Not one of them is alive today, they pursued
their false dreams and pleasures, lived life
their way and abused alcohol and drugs never
singing an anthem; their wives deserted them,
their kids never loved them in those tender ways.
I have overcome every struggle and every conflict,
fought every battle by being much stronger than them!
The portrait of mom on the opposite wall
looks straight at me as her happy voice
returns to speak, " Take my memory with you
to brighten your day, you will live long for having
been obedient to me and having loved me;
my nurturing spirit will guide you through
many storms approaching, I will allay each fear. "
Words On The Go - playfully plying wordplay
A Reverse Rant, not averse to a terse verse
sublime rhymes of the times, no Writer's Block to unlock
a poem off the shelf To My Teenage Self
Who Would I Bring Back? We the People, our Secret Selves
The Transcendent Ms Vincent beckons Morris the Thesaurus Tortoise
to leave his shell and ride Arabians to Zebras
and write Cities of Sonnets, Graduations, Fascinations, alliterations
and Heartache's Milkshakes that take the cake
it's the Little Things that give her wings
as dulcet words awake and sing
we open our peepers For The Silence Keepers
Dressing Up Silly Words to spring forth, sing forth, bring forth
her streams of Dreams and April themes
of Pondering Poetry or Roses Of Agony
A Kindness where once was Emptiness:
Two Roses, a September Serenade of Green Anniversaries
made a parade for the maid in the waylaid shade
uncommon comments - the recipe is reciprocity
Her Legacy, Her Epitaph: a tear, a smile, a laugh
you write of The Stars -
of this mystical, magical, mythical, metaphysical
wonderful world of whirled words
If Only You Knew you help us to see
what Poems Can Be
// In tribute to the inimitable style of our wonderful poetess and Solitary Scribbler, Michelle Faulkner, in honor of Your Birthday on the 8th day of this Brief November: thank you, my artistry sibling, for your "rage of kindness, blinding your grieving ghosts". Keep writing and inspiring ~ John]
[Capitalized words are titles of poems by Michelle]
Loving you changed my life,
losing you did the same,
Hearing that you never cared
adds fuel to the flame.
My heart is black my head is numb,
I feel the RAGE,
I’m hyped-up and tense
like an animal in a cage.
I knew we had problems,
I never thought she would leave,
This is real to me,
to her make its make-believe.
I hear she doesn’t care,
if she ever sees me again,
I was hoping we would
always be friends.
It’s not easy controlling
the anger and the pain,
I try to divert my thoughts
from memory lane.
There was a connection
when we first met,
Loving her was like
playing Russian Roulette.
I know I have never
loved anyone prior,
Her love filled me
with passion and desire.
The way I feel about her,
I’ve never felt before,
I will always love her
forevermore.
I thought she had a heart
made of gold,
Now that she is gone
life seems so harsh and cold.
If it ever comes down
to push comes to shove,
I have nothing good
to say ABOUT LOVE……
TURBO1904 10-25-2021
I am filled with rage and frustration. I’m doing my best, pushing forward with everything I have, yet I feel forced to halt my own progress. In a tempestuous fury, I question you.
I lead, I strive, and every step feels like a battle with you. You have it easy, assuming I’ll shoulder everything while you play ignorant, yet you know exactly how to get what you want. Do you see me as a fool, or am I just a convenient toy someone to be picked up and discarded at will?
Must I always be the one to carry the weight of every decision? I try to think ahead, to use my mind, but it feels as though I’m holding everyone’s hand, mapping out every step, every outcome. It’s always on me. I am the one who must bear it all, and I’m about to explode.
I have my own struggles, my own conditions to manage but who’s there for me? I’m the one who must bear the brunt of the pain. That’s what it means to be a man, isn’t it? To sacrifice, to endure, to stand unyielding.
That’s it. That’s the life we’re told to lead.
Diabolical demons are snarling
inside my brain
wishing I would give up
wanting me quiet and enormously dead
I almost give in to their rage and their hate
because this feels gloomy, and I am clearly outnumbered
but a glimmer of a glimpse of hope says
don’t give up the fight, you can make this all right!
My empathy is all over the place,
feeling their angry breath on my cheek
it is not a good place. I feel devils which
comes from way down beneath
Are these soul-stealing entities from this lifetime?
Or from one of my past incarnations?
What will they do if I stay?
Can they kill me, or will the sunlight whisk them away?
I know it is up to me, my mind-control self.
Am I hopeless or helpless?
I must choose carefully
After turmoil...hope!
A such needed continuity
of those forgotten aspirations
left undone...left locked in a steel box
that nobody thought of finding!
Pages written with asperity,
by now...they should be yellowed, out-dated
and without its formal meaning;
by morning...the realization will be complete
for this misunderstood one who sought solidarity!
After the turmoil...hope!
An unwelcomed message
from a by-gone age...
a persistent vocation
suffocated by rage and hate!
When the secret is revealed on stage,
many will feel hostility...
and change their mentality
about ingnorance and indignation!
After the turmoil...hope!
A hope outlasting frustration,
a reality to marvel at and entice...
without doubting its inner force!
After the darkness retreats itself in agony,
a brilliant light is my witness to this victory:
I defiantly fought ...tossed ashore by a violent sea,
again, I persisted with vindication
and won the fierce fight against the wind and currents,
because Someone was pulling me out with a rope!
Pray tell, who tore the neighbors’ flowers out?
What sort of child fell madly on their bed?
Surely one unruly and ill-bred!
What had it been that made this child pout
and then go out and ever dare to flout
the rule of being mannerly – to shred
those pretty blooms? Found out, she homeward sped.
She stood accused. The neighbors had no doubt.
And did this little girl’s heart fill with guilt
for her misconduct? She could not deny
what she had done. Why had such wrath been spilt
on flowers? Soon all knew what went awry!
Her father’s disregard had made her wilt,
so flowers felt her rage. I know. ‘Twas I.
Aug. 1, 2020
for the 'STRAND COMPLETELY NEW (16),any form,any theme' Poetry Contest
(a story related to me by my mother because I was so young I do not remember this!)