Long Realities Poems
Long Realities Poems. Below are the most popular long Realities by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Realities poems by poem length and keyword.
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
I stare at a reflection that once held the pain of a broken spirit.
Collapsed inside themselves, where light had ceased to exist,
where regrets once held a smile captive, and the thought of truly loving who they are seemed like the hardest thing to do.
I could recall how they accepted the agony of defeat—submitting to the harsh realities of life and never seeing their story ending with a
“Happily Ever After.”
I could remember their insecurities, low self-esteem, and discarded dreams, as if to tell themselves they were meant to be nothing more than what they are.
How their permanent scars have now been left as a reminder that they have made too many mistakes to ever bounce back from a world that's not made of rubber.
However, here they stand, bold and undefeated,
confident despite being mistreated,
no longer looking at life as if a smile could never be recycled, joy could never be regained, and scars viewed as survival stories waiting to be told.
To create art is to dance with the unseen and the ethereal,
A mystical journey, an enigma even to its creators.
Poets feel this deeply,
A difference they can't yet define, an unspoken aura.
Within them, emotions boil in a vast cauldron,
Every wound they bear, every fleeting joy, becomes magnified,
Everything brings pain. Everything.
They traverse this world as vessels of fragility,
Supersensitive souls drifting in a realm of the mundane.
The mundane dissolves before their enchanted gaze,
They see spectral realities, hear whispers in the celestial silence.
Others move forward, but they linger in the liminal,
Held by the gravity of visions unseen by ordinary eyes.
Their hearts are stormy seas,
Emotional whirlwinds that others cannot understand.
It isolates, ensnares, encasing them in solitary luminescence,
Yet this brilliance often feels too heavy for their delicate forms.
The raw beauty they perceive, untouched by mundanity,
Is both a shining gift and a crushing burden,
This hypersensitivity is the key to the divine,
But it can also be a curse that imprisons the soul.
In their veins flows the luminous river of inspiration,
Yet it cleaves through their existence, a double-edged knife, blessing and peril.
Seeing through this transcendent lens touches the divine essence,
But feeling every nuance can shake the spirit.
They balance on the edge of ethereal creation,
Where the abyss of despair lurks, waiting.
For some, this edge becomes an eternal battlefield,
An uninterrupted struggle to withstand the storm.
And yet, in this hypersensitivity lies the seed of magic,
A spark that can ignite shadows into radiant light,
Illuminating the darkness, bringing forth
Art that speaks to the essence of human existence.
At the heart of the artist, a sacred flame flickers,
With each creation, an echo of their soul is released,
A shard of their infinite light, bestowed upon the world,
Yearning to be felt, to be embraced.
They are both cursed and blessed,
Guardians of a fragile, boundless beauty,
Striving to navigate a world where everything hurts,
And yet, they endure, for in their pain and perception,
Lies the extraordinary magic that makes them sublime.
Within me a battle wages on
Between true change and pure acceptance
As my flaws scream we want war
My soldiers of truth are dying off
The weapon of choice is blame
Everyone but me
Raids on my self worth ocastraed with in the ranks of reason
I ponder a battle plan a way to win the war on me
I bring the guns
I bring the fear
I rain down the negativity
She was there to raise me up
But the resonbility should have not fell on her
My victory was never meant to be raised with her white flag
The concepts I see now are realities of the past
Manifested by a much stronger enemy my self esteem
The scars of this self inflicted war
Runs free within the hurt of all who try to be close
To make sense of my demise is to search way down deep into my pit of rage
There can be no peace talks not anymore
Because I can no longer convince the otherside of her
That I have changed
When this war rages on within me
How can I create a peace for her
I can't and this is my true weakness
My own fate is in my hands now not hers.
I must now make it my greatest strength
To become the peace we all need
Bubbling with triumphant mirth
then weeping midst frustration…
heart strives to strike a balance
between composure and chaos…
projecting strength under grace while
anchored by prayer not to fall…
staying poised in the crucible of stress
yet serenely hiding hopelessness mask…
vibrant soul today faces tomorrow's mysteries
expectant of miracles yon realities...
that’s the mother in me who champions
life-building commitment with: “So help me, LORD.*”
*Psalm 78:4 We will not hide them from their children, shewing to the generation to come the praises of the Lord, and his strength, and his wonderful works that he hath done.
May 14, 2025
Honorable Mention, "YOUR CHOICE g" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 5/15/2025
My child pointed at the view screen
She asked: papa, why does that planet look so cold?
The cold was prelude to a darker time. The cold stays there and lingers to warn all not go enter, as they would never leave alive.
This sad story about the fate of humankind
Alternate realities converge sometimes
But on that planet there five hundred years ago
A race of people lost faith in all they know
Now a place of damnation where the humans left can never die
Greed, survival and conquest all built on lies!
A crack in the fabric of time itself
Created a passage to a living hell
One reality saw that to survive
The other reality could not exist and no one could be left alive.
It was the duty of every man and woman to dispose of themselves and any offspring on the other side
So when there was only one reality left
All the people left suffered a never ending lingering death
All those people had in fact committed a kind of suicide
All those people left alive were somehow dead inside and all the people they had killed were in them somehow still alive!
black reality…
maimed and killed on video:
daily news tv.
injustice must go---
what’s seen is no enactment;
it’s real as was meant.
all of this crap stop.
our lives are in jeopardy;
by hands of rogue cops.
no justice, no peace---
empty chants easily ignored;
when will the breach cease?
attempt self-defense,
and we’re a violent threat:
blacks with no damn sense.
next season will be:
keeping up with the new blacks---
hook on being free.
remember the dead---
no sequel will be for them:
they are really dead.
yes, we are alive---
fighting to the very end:
that our heirs survive!
let’s keep faith on set---
her flame must never go out;
she’s never failed yet!
faith---the horizon---
waits upon the rising sun
justice has been won!
Just for a moment, open your mind to all possibilities. Whatever you dream, you can do and create. Then probabilities have opportunities, by which they can manifest.
When the radio was manifested, everyone believed such, was impossible. Phones, cars, indoor plumbing, computers and all we have today, was once considered impossible.
Belief is the catalyst, by which we initiate possibilities. Possibilities addressed with imagination, belief, and effort; give birth to realities; increasing probabilities give us hope that our dreams will manifest.
Skepticism has its place; it can keep you on the road to manifesting realities but, it’s too often abused; used to demean and degrade the dreamers. It prohibits their success in manifesting those probabilities which stalls progress.
The fool is the diehard skeptic; the clammed-shut mind. Those who believe; though some skepticism is allowed; are the real geniuses; courageous believers; thank God for them.
Each of us possesses the capacity to dream; when dreams provide ideas; open your mind, create and leave a part of yourself to this world.
The Surreal Narrative Poem
The reminiscence of a dream
I am writing to become a writer one day.
I am writing in the hope that my little one will be reading these pieces one day.
I am writing in the hope that I will add value to this society one day.
I will add value to my kids’ lives.
The other day, I was in the middle of a zoom workshop.
Every meeting is virtual nowadays.
In the middle of the meeting, I heard a knock at the door.
I muted the meeting and opened the door. I saw a lady.
She was smiling. She was checking her mailbox.
“My boy knocked at your door.” She was telling, smiling.
Then I saw her boy. A tiny little toddler without any shirt.
He was mouthful with a smile.
“Glad to meet you, little buddy.” I shook his hand.
I came back to my meeting. My virtual meeting.
I do not keep a diary. I do not have a tendency to track the alarm.
But at that very moment, I heard the familiar music of an ice-cream truck.
I cannot even tell how happy I felt, for that moment, for those ice creams, and for that boy. Although those two might never interconnect.
There is no way to make sure of dreams. if one reaches the destination safely or not. Characters in dreams do not exist, those dreams only float around.
But what is left is a feather like happiness or sad feelings after waking up.
The reminiscence of a dream in the realities of life.
Yet, we do need to dream.
Dream, the very core imagination of the subconscious mind!
The story of dory
And the story of John
Could be glory
Could be wrong
Dory was a Gent at heart
Dorian was the birth mark
John preferred the Dory part
As was his name from start
A younger brother with might
John enjoyed a good fight
Dory had no choice in life
As his brothers fire reignites
Sat in constant silence
In denial of the violence
Seeking the vengeance
Of a brothers pretence
To the viewer looking in
There was no sin
No bullying of the sibling
Feelings was kept within
But poor old Dory
Was more than a story
A tale as gory
To make the devils glory
A knifes sharp look
Sharper than a serpants tooth
No more playing by the book
Dory looks to end the snook
Waiting for the right time
To end his eternal prime
Lifting up his knife
Here's to you and life
Claret filled the room
With no time to gloom
The blade spun with a zoom
As Dory fell to his doom
A story of brothers grim
A story of feelings within
A story of lifes sin
A story we need to bring
So the masses will see
People hide their grief
From judging thieves
Who steals from realities
let's talk about humanity
tell the world is enough
if you have a soul
let's touch the world
with love
cos an everlasting peace
can never be forbidden
among humans
everyday our sense of humour
get weaker
every new year same difficulties
of no change
same wars continue
we continue to lose
our love ones
in crimes and isolation
what a world
a world with out humanity
a doomed world
let's talk about humanity
are you worried about life
why do you think is difficult
are you disturbed to talk
about a solution
why do you see life realities
so hard to explain
are you comfortably in
your illusive zone
why are you confused
of this wars of our generation
are you so ignorant to speak
of love
why do you think humanity
is so few today
remember what touches
the eye
touches the Head
our world today is so dark
what a world
a world with out humanity
a doomed world
let's talk about humanity
cos humans are dying
ignorantly on daily bases
human are killing humans
on every sun set
in different places
the Cry's for help are too many
in our today generation
so sad
the helper are so very very few
why not if love is dying
among humans
why not if humanity
is now a stranger to many
what a world
a world with out humanity
a doomed world
let's talk about humanity
don't be afraid to have a say
cos theirs is too much isolation
out there
yes out there the fire of hatred
is still burning
out there the flames of grieves
are so obvious
out there human has turned down
the love in their soul
out there greediness rules
like a new God
out there so many are homeless
yes out there in too many places
too many people are hungry
out there the scars of wars
is obvious on the walls of our dignity
so don't be afraid to talk
talk about humanity
preach about humanity
teach about humanity
cos it now a stranger
to our world today