Long Reaffirm Poems
Long Reaffirm Poems. Below are the most popular long Reaffirm by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reaffirm poems by poem length and keyword.
I always knew
But that day I had
To reaffirm
When ominous clouds furtively
Moved in
Soon and very soon those
I stood in the sunshine with
Started to move with the wind
Oh yes
A storm—a mighty storm—was raging
Alone, alone I was left standing
But quickly I got on my knees and
Started praying
Amid torrential tears falling
That sweet voice in my spirit
Started calling
A voice that's one of a kind
A warm resonance that soothes the
Heart and mind
A love, sweet love
That's unsurpassed
A grace and mercy
That is long last
Arms of strength that embrace
A spirit of comfort that came to
Wipe all the tears from my face
I always knew
But that day I had
To reaffirm
On the bed, my ginger cat settles
onto a pile of clean laundry, dryer warm
Feline steady stare, resolute
a strategy of possession
she relaxes the way prayer soothes
"Off!" I command. My cat an unwelcome bedded guest.
she whines, "Surely, he's bluffing!"
solidified
empowered
swollen in the pride of "I'm not moving!"
meows spewed like an anthem of resistance
I lift her from the pile,
my underwear dangles from cat claws
like cheap tinsel on a tree
she exits, her short lived reign
sulks into howls of whining
till dinner softens her rebuff
till wherever curiosity and comfort take her,
anew
My hope of co-habitation:
to calm the little woes of daily chores
to reduce cat prestige from shedded hair
to shrink feline non-compliance to a
manageable scale
Our social contract - a trade off
to reaffirm my status
to maintain the charade of "boss"
an unsteady footing
in the crushed aspiration of rule
Poem composed February 7/2022
Are there more believers than stubborn doubters?
Who is happier the one who trusts entirely in God,
or that one who wants all, no matter the risks?
I won't deny this unbreakable faith in the Lord!
Nobody wants to admit who created the wonders before us:
what we see with the eyes, what we touch with the fingers;
they deny the very breath of their existence but deep doubt
is the foolishness they cling to hide it from sight and thought!
Most people live life without the guidance of the merciful Father,
they pursue pleasures more than love, compassion and prayers;
their character is aggressive and vile, unkind are their gesturers:
never imitate them for any reason, their fickle minds often err!
Nobody wants to admit that joy is intertwined with moral and respect,
" Love everyone and hurt no one. " should be our commitment;
we came from our mother's womb, and she fed us with her nipples:
how grateful are we to her, to those eyes that showed kindness?
An entire life is not enough to discover creation in every aspect,
that's when faith comes in to reaffirm that all came from Him,
from a hand mightier than the rumble of thunder and tempest;
He created the very first woman from the rib of lonely Adam!
there is a tear in the middle of the floor
we do not know who it once belonged to
we are amazed at how stubborn it actually is
perhaps it acted as a symbol of inspiration for us to sit down and talk it all out
there is a tear in the middle of the floor
we do not know what language it speaks
we are in awe of how it has been able to keep its shape
perhaps it acted as a reminder of what we could of lost had we not truly communicated
there is a tear in the middle of the floor
we do not know if its little heart still beats
we are taken aback at the fact that it looks like it is actually smiling
perhaps it acted as a divine mediator for us....lead by a Higher Power
there is laughter at the corner of earth avenue and real world way
we have nursed each other's scars as a portion of many unified peace offerings
we are enjoying immensely this blessed chapter of realization and understanding
perhaps in the heart of God's Time, we just had to slow everything down and just regroup, reveal, refocus, review, reestablish, reaffirm, and reconfirm....
Because of life tormenting me beyond tolerable limits,
I called for a duel in the front of the surging crowd in the square.
Then, he looked at me directly in the eyes
and said mockingly “what made a cowardly person
like you, dare to throw down the gauntlet at me?” and turned back.
I called for his attention, and when he looked back,
I affronted him by lightly slapping his cheek and said
“I ask you to accept my formal request for a duel.”
He told me to set the date and the place, and select the weapon;
I told him without hesitation “a gun and the foot of the mountain
on the night of a full moon.”
Accepting my proposal
he said “who will be the witness?”
“How about the light cloud passing by, though
fog may be too dense, and therefore obstruct vision,
haziness would appeal to the sentiment of one of us who may fall,”
“and it’s better, if there’s a brook nearby, because
we can hear the murmuring water that may soothe
the flaming hatred; the shackle of our predestined evil-bond.”
Near the brook, by the mountain foot, we stood,
holding guns in hand, face to face. Listening to
the rippling water to reaffirm our unfortunate affinity,
under the moonbeam calm and indifferent.
When the light cloud shaded the moonbeam
we turned our back and proceeded five steps each
stepping on the heap of fallen leaves,
and as the cloud cleared
my shadow and his shadow turned again to face to face.
Our outstretched arms at gunpoint
were aiming at each others' heart.
Life told me “fire first,”
I pulled the trigger but missed target;
the empty echo came back to me after it
turned around the hillside stepping on the drifting leaves.
Then, life pulled the trigger;
the bullet pierced my heart and hit the moon,
the fragments of the shuttered moon fell by my feet,
and drifted on the flowing water dyed red with the stream of blood
gushed out from my heart.
It’s difficult
To contemplate
My F8
A sad ending to relate
A psychological way
To masturbate
As I progress
Thru my allotted years
I face and analyze
My internal fears
And shed somewhat regretful tears
Of not doing that or this
Reminiscing
Of what did I miss
As I hurtle towards
Death’s kiss
I realize
I don’t wish to leave
I want to stay
And not have to grieve
Life is a gift
You want to continue to receive
I wish to extend my subscription
And reaffirm my conviction
That living
Is the ultimate addiction
I admit to being greedy
And spiritually needy
And I’m not done
With questions or fun
Or being lazy soaking up the sun
I want more time
To write and rhyme
I need more days
To enjoy the sublime
I’ve spent to much chasing green paper
Wasting my time on a financial caper
Collecting crap that will outlive me
Only to be given to the next attendee
So, they may add to the pile of waste
Filling an emotionally empty space
It’s such a disgusting race
This is the F8 we face
The never-ending material chase
That simply has no place
Fleecing my time
Demanding I grind
To serve the unkind
I will make you a deal
I refuse to squeal
Bow or kneel
Or waste myself
As your personal toy on a shelf
I will be me
Come and see
Genuine and free
Not a care in the world
To which I was hurled
I will enjoy
The chains I destroy
As I disregard your ploy
To keep me locked in a cage
While you revel in my rage
To keep me from turning the page
To write a new section
Called my personal resurrection
This is my F8
Freedom’s reflection
Look into your own mirror
And own your fear
You having nothing to lose my dear
Eric (and sometimes not)
We need a refresher course in mercy and love.
For once again, we've allowed Fascism
to raise its ugly head; while we stayed silent!
Life is harsh, and pain is a part of it.
But, so too is love!
Often, feelings of compassion surface
only to be ignored;
as we retreat to the darker corners of our minds.
Our voice is powerful, combined with others.
Yet, we feel it'll make no difference,
so, we choose to stay mute.
Our fears and frustrations
cower like subordinate shadows
ashamed to be seen.
We are all tethered to our feelings,
and when we allow our humanity full rein:
Hope summons sensations that can alter our reality.
We need to metaphorically
sever the political head of Medusa:
so our hearts no longer turn to stone;
under the intolerant gaze of bigots.
And reaffirm that our moral foundation
is an extension of our faith:
and that we will no longer remain silent.
At our passing, it's our souls God will judge;
not our political affiliations.
If you hope to be one of means and property,
And to be perceived as truly ‘one of a kind’,
Never tolerate or accept mediocrity.
Develop, while young, this fine quality.
Reaffirm it daily in your mind.
If you hope to be one of means and property.
Over-acheivers are definitely a scarcity;
Average and below average people aren’t hard to find.
Never tolerate or accept mediocrity.
You’ll always be surrounded by those in poverty.
Work harder in body and smarter in mind
If you hope to be one of means and property
While you’re young, consider this your duty:
Knowledge is power--education of any and every kind.
Never tolerate or accept mediocrity.
Someday when you're frail, old, and crotchety,
You’ll recall what I had you commit to mind:
If you hope to be one of means and property,
Never tolerate or accept mediocrity.
An Autumn Portrait of Beauty
On this quite beautiful and most radiant Autumn day,
I marvel at Mother Nature’s smile of silent pulchritude,
As I make a loving glance at such luscious scenery today,
In this country scene—a glorious gift of God’s certitude!
The trees and their fallen amber leaves adorn this Earth,
As a shimmering reflection pervades from a green pond,
Of Nature’s wonder with colors arrayed in a sacred rebirth,
Affirming God’s heavenly promise true and His holy bond!
This view of trees, grass, leaves, and a shadow near the pond,
Captures the glory and grace from God’s colored-palette a true,
That affirms His desire of rendering this beauty from beyond,
And I thank Him from my heart with joy and blessings so true!
Yes, God doth paint this world with such love for all to see,
His Autumn portrait here is of unparalleled artistry and grace,
That I interpret as a heavenly-made moment for all of us to be,
As I reaffirm the beauty of Nature’s gift in this wondrous place!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
November 6, 2015 (Rhyme)
Author’s Note: A special tribute to a former classmate.
Our winter takes a stand to come each year:
beyond the spring, and after summer days,
accepts the brilliance of late autumn cheer,
which spreads a last hoorah with fiery blaze-
then winter shares its sparkling, snowy glaze.
What peace dwells in this purity of white
that cloaks the hills and valleys day and night,
while bare tree limbs, adorned with fluffy shawls,
present their charming, visual delight.
Quite joyful is that time when winter calls.
And yet, while nature sleeps beneath this veil
of white, the landscaped beauty is not firm.
Devoid of color, mounds, and swirls of pale,
white glow- sparked by the sun- does reaffirm
its shiny brilliance is enjoyed short-term.
And in that warmth, icicle gifts are cast
like jeweled shards of crystal, holding fast
on limbs and branches- clinging for a time,
till the next storm- or spring awakes at last-
to fully melt away old winter's clime.
December 15, 2020
Contest: A Lovely Day Poetry Contest
Sponsor: BJ Legros Kelley
Form: Dizain- Rhyme Scheme: a b a b b c c d c d