Long Rancour Poems
Long Rancour Poems. Below are the most popular long Rancour by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rancour poems by poem length and keyword.
Rancour is a canker
That eats us from within
Bitterness and anger*
Are sure to cause chagrin
Malice is a chalice
From which we should not drink
It will turn us callous
With hearts tuned out of sync
Hanker not for rancour
Let love rule our mind tunes
Forgiveness, the anchor
In life's wildest typhoons
Hope is the strongest rope
Sure and steadfast anchor**
In dark sin, need not grope
Rid our soul of rancour
Jesus Christ sure frees us
From rancour's canker clutch
Tenderly, He sees us
And heals us with blood touch
*Ephesians 4:31-32
[31]Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice:
[32]And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you.
**Hebrews 6:19-20
[19]Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, and which entereth into that within the veil;
[20]Whither the forerunner is for us entered, even Jesus, made an high priest for ever after the order of Melchisedec.
Close to the track's end,
Jumping over the last hurdle,
Hope stands beside us to stitch and mend,
Thoughts of unfulfilled desires saddle.
Walking through the end's door,
A few miles to go across the border,
A tick, a tock and more,
Each dawn chauffeurs us further.
Christmas is here,
A time to give and share,
Celebrating the birth of God’s son, loving and dear,
Sombre moods are dispersed by moments of cheer.
Cities and homes wear a colourful look,
There’s a global declaration of love,
Rancour is erased from the offender’s book,
Joy lights on us live a dove.
December 3, 2022.
Auschwitz horrors replayed time and again
Nurtured by hatred of prejudiced minds
Toxic fumes fabric of our soul thus stains
Humanity enmeshed in devils bind
Let the last train to Auschwitz be release
Unshackling consciousness from delusion
Transmuting lower mind, to be at ease
Resonating with the love pulsation
Recognising oneness, embracing all
Offering rancour no anchor within
We be to become, a vibrant bliss squall
Dew drops of love, permeating our skin
Oh hermit! See how low we have fallen
Yet, by God we are never forsaken
11-April-2021
Last train to Auschwitz poetry contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
Through an opal window I saw a cloud,
changing colors from blue to orange to red,
like a burning fire.
I was swept off my feet,
floating on a bridge between this world and the next.
My body no longer in my possession,
I hear voices beyond my choices,
juggled on a hawser like a puppet on strings ~
my entire being a vessel laden with spirits.
The voices were raucous,
filled with a mixture of rancour and candour ~
evidence of my traipse between realms,
and drifting swaps between wakefulness and dreams.
An admixture of languages ~
glossolalic, angelic, and carnal,
ricocheted from my ears to my chest,
yet none I could understand;
I was a stranger found in a manger by a ranger.
Far below my feet
were faces in beige, white, and different shades of brown;
high above my head
were lineaments gleaming in stainless hues of white.
Then the angels breathed into my ears,
and their languages became clear;
they spoke in whispers,
and I strained to listen.
But when I spoke,
my words were carnal –
the language of those below –
understood by them, but no longer by me.
All I said
turned their fantasies to ecstasies.
They shouted, "Hallelujah,"
and my feet quivered;
I was left stranded
before I crash-landed
back into my body.
Out my window, the birds preen and take flight,
Out my window, the sun arises from its chamber,
Out my window, the lone traveller seeks light,
Out my window is a city that doesn't see slumber.
Out my window, mystery weaves its net,
Out my window, hope finds an anchor,
Out my window, the stage is set,
Out my window, misconstruing breeds rancour.
Out my window, the night wears a mask,
The eerie hides in the shadows,
Out my window, I'm called to my task,
I see the blooming meadows.
Out my window, nature waits to embrace me,
Tomorrow may take me beyond the raging sea.
August 27, 2023.
I salute you brother of mine
One whose venomous bile
Sends shivers down the spine
Of spineless rank and file
I have never known you
But like William’s “18”, your
Legend lives on afresh and new
Telling tales of valour and rancour
Singlehandedly, you transformed Be-neen
Into a Bend-Hell; singlehandedly,
You made the state’s purse quite lean
Only to spend your loot foolishly
Like Samson, you had a Delilah
Like Achilles, you had the heel
Expecting you to be caught very far
From home, like a complacent eel
You were tangled in the net
Reclining in the recess of expired nipples
Dousing my awe and admiration. How wet!
Your fame is lost among the ripples
Commander-in-thief that you once were
You died like a mere beggar in the street
How disappointing! From stag to mare
You lost your crown by being indiscreet
Daredevil, bank robber, kingpin
Notorious criminal – the infamous Anini
The Dillinger of your time – a King
Dethroned by men on one knee.
"Learn to consider the source ... of rancour and
ignore. All tantrums don't require your reaction."
Quote by _Ibadidran Omo Akinde
I have spent my childhood the target of rancour,
malicious words like chains were my anchor.
Why are people like that ?
Sometimes, my only friend was my sweet kitty cat,
at school during lunch time- alone, I sat.
My words brought their rancour !
When I was a young woman I got much stronger,
I did not listen to the hatemonger.
Gone the chains that held me !
I was learning about who I wanted to be,
and saw resentful words as a sad plea.
Oh, get lost scaremonger !
Now, I am a writer of poetry- of life,
and yes still get hurt by life's stabbing knife.
But, am a tree rooted !
And when the venomous slither I press muted,
or lost in my mind- their words diluted.
Be still, not larger-than-life !
I feel sorry for the sad spiteful rancorous,
those people who get all cantankerous.
Why are people like that ?
Icicles hung from the roof
like translucent fingers
Clawing towards the ground
While behind the eaves,
She brushed her plain brown hair
Tired gray eyes in the mirror,
Discolored around the fringe
And gravity pulled at the frown
Like it did everything else
She was one of many,
A soul, a body
With all the glitter rubbed away
Winter breathed out its discontent
A heaving sigh that scattered leaves
Over mailboxes, churches, graveyards
You can lose yourself in those fields out there
Mired in snow, as countless as crows
As tin men, as a brick in the wall
And when three young girls,
All smiles and apple cheeks and roses
Walked by her window, she cast those grey eyes down
From above— her jaw nutcracker clenched
New England January froze her eyes
A hand clenched and unclenched
at their sparkly laughter
The brush rattled to the floor
As the girls disappeared from her line of sight
She was already a thousand miles away
Up into the cirrus clouds,
Each inch colder than the last
It’s the beauty of the meadow
You exhale as you look out of the window,
It’s the fragrance that pervades the room,
It springs from your heart when allowed to bloom.
It’s the symphony that cloaks melee,
You’re surrounded by sparkles of glee,
It’s the lamp that’s not wearied by time,
You’re haloed by colours in every clime.
It’s the hand that opens the door in the dark,
You see beyond the lack,
It’s the hands that take the wheel,
You can stand on the hill.
Take my hand as our rancour takes flight,
Let’s walk on life’s lane until we’re separated by the night,
Let me know your fears,
Even as I aid you to uproot the tares.
February 16, 2024.
Upon those who yield to anger, I should take pity
because words they spit are like sandpaper, gritty.
A loathsome temper causes them to fume and fret,
sometimes churlish ones spew what they will regret.
Restraining venom is an idea some are unable to grok.
Fury is the key to a door they have no right to unlock,
for they seek revenge when it is not theirs to take.
Hissing like the demon who was disguised as a snake.
It's amazing to what lengths their bitterness will go.
Look into their eyes and you'll see their malice grow.
A hostile fire-breathing dragon is an ignorant beast
who will spend all its time eating outrage at a feast.
They wear the weight of vitriol like a boa of albatross
when it should be thrown away. In the sea given a toss.
A temper makes foolish ones lose all sense of reason.
They may even betray themselves in an act of treason.
Rancour can be an anchor that drowns them in the sea
if they cannot cut the chain that would set them free.
It's evil to prick as a sharp thorn in someone else's side.
Irascible people are those most nice folks cannot abide.
If they continue to blow on smoldering embers of a fire
they will be burned by the contentiousness of their ire.
They should douse all glowing cinders within their soul,
to loosen shackles of angst and keep anger under control.