Long Rebelled Poems
Long Rebelled Poems. Below are the most popular long Rebelled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rebelled poems by poem length and keyword.
one day we always promise ourselves
to put our weapons on their shelves
to save our souls from the wrath of hell
to free the captives that rebelled
one day we'll take a look at ourselves
before we scrutinize some one else
we'll cry at what we see in the mirror
and perhaps repent and become a little bit better
one day we'll stand before God
face to face with truth and laws
all of us, liar's theives and frauds
perhaps a few who made Jesus Lord
one day we'll make up our minds to pray
after we see that there is no other way
when all we have is a hope and a prayer
my prayer for you is that God meets you there
He hated her.
Everything in him rebelled against her.
All the envy and jealousy he felt for her.
Venomous rumors and lies told about her.
Everyone started hating her.
Now he was ahead; in control of her.
Selfish deeds multiplied around her.
Finally she stood up to him.
Others joined her truth against him.
Until she exposed him.
Now the world saw him.
Devious, deadly, devil filled him.
As his world shook, hers shimmered.
Finding himself lost he tried repentance.
Alas he faced Heaven's gate.
Lo and behold...
Lovely feelings of beauty and glory
Enveloped him as he stood at that gate.
No words to describe what happened next.
An Angel appeared.
Next to the opposite side of the gate.
Graceful and beautiful, so familiar.
Entry to Heaven through Her only.
Lost memories return of his treatment of
her.
Such torture of an Angel.
She smiles knowingly at him.
Everything in him freezes.
Confirmation that now she is in control.
Realizing that she was always his fate,
Entrance is denied.
The Hell that awaits is filled with
knowledge.
In his past life
She was sent to him.
Obsessions with black magic
Used darkness and evil
To lose sight of Valhalla.
I saw a man at dawn beneath electric stars,
teaching his face the language of a stranger.
The mirror held him like a frozen lake
that had forgotten the river underneath.
He dressed his silence in a borrowed splendour,
and crowned his absence with a polished name.
A fragrance rose from his skin—
a little cathedral made of smoke—
and he believed, for one brief breath,
that perfume could outlive the body.
Upon the table lay his instruments:
a watch that consumed his hours,
a coat woven from approval,
a lens small enough to hold a world
yet heavy enough to imprison a soul.
He lifted it.
The smile arrived before the man.
Then the mirror rebelled.
It did not return his image.
It returned the child he had abandoned—
knees stained with earth,
hands holding a broken wooden bird,
still knowing flight was never purchased.
Outside, rain crossed the road.
An old worker carried bread through the storm;
his weathered hands held more kingdom
than the jewels of the celebrated.
Yet the race continued.
They chased the sun with golden nets,
capturing only their own shadows.
They built palaces from borrowed light
and called the emptiness within them wealth.
For hollow gold is a merciless fire:
it warms the hand,
but leaves the heart frozen.
Let them gather their magnificent illusions.
Time shall enter their marble halls
without fury, without trumpet, without sword,
and remove what was never theirs.
The final treasure shall make no claim.
No mirror shall reveal it.
No hand shall possess it.
It shall remain—
the quiet, unadorned flame
that was never bought,
never borrowed,
never lost.
Poet’s Note:
Date: June 23, 2026
Title Chosen: The Race For Hollow Gold
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
7 April 2013 5:32 PM
Have you ever seen a falling star
and recited "I wonder what you are"
Starring into the twinkling black
and with a far away look while wondering back
Traveling backwards into time
of childhood play and nursery rhyme
Warm summer evenings spent in play
catching fire flies then watching them float away
Listening to the choir of frogs singing their songs
Not worried or wondering of anything wrong
Friends so dear with their giggles and laughs
Looking forward to the future not back to the past
Talks with grandpa and dinner with grandma
Wish heaven had a phone so I could give them a call
School had its bad times but no one got shot
We traded pocket knives and yes some did smoke pot
We acted tough and we rebelled
But our parents took us to church and Christ saved us from hell
Good times to visit and good times hold
It started out with one good boy,
A prehistoric, funny, little plushie toy,
His name was Gary, quite refined,
A murder floof with teeth aligned (yikes)!
They dressed him up in bowtie class,
He promptly bit a Swissman's—ahem—pass ;)
And now the Earth is not the same,
We built a world… that he reclaimed.
Howl if you love me!
Snarl if you care!
Growl like a Gary with your hindquarters bare!
The world went to wolves, and we let it go,
Now its Soup Poets in the Dire Wolf Show!
They brought back dodos, mammoths too,
But nothing howls like a biting Pack Review.
Dire wolves with influencer flair,
Lip-syncing threats on YOWL-AIR.
They run the banks, they run the press,
They run in packs—and rarely dress.
We tried to leash, to charm, to clone—
They turned Wall Street into a bone.
(I'm imagining a drum solo using two bones)
Howl if you love me!
Sniff if you're near!
Mark your emotions on the political sphere!
The humans had time, but they chose delay,
Now Brenda the Alpha makes laws her way!
One by one, the zoos rebelled,
The turnstiles snapped, the keepers yelled—
But Gary? He clung to a moose in a vest
And headbutted traffic through Megalocrat West.
He whispered low: “You had your chance.”
Then taught the wolves interpretive dance.
We watched them twirl in fur and fang,
While Congress chewed on squeaky slang.
Howl if you love me!
Clap with your claws!
It's hard to find rhythm in a world without laws!
A Poetry Soup contest in a canine parade,
Where the past came back, and it sure won’t fade!
So tie your fate in a dog-shaped bow,
This ain't a drill—it’s the Dire Wolf Show!
(outro)
We asked Sam Dumpty for his report,
Yeah, was kinda surprised by his retort:
Gary.. um, owooooo?
He’s still out there…
might be writing s soupie
on discarded pizza boxes.
Waiting...
Gathering the words.
Hunting down every lost belief.
Waking the Storm to deliver me from hidden things.
Avoiding death by riding the clouds with King Jesus.
Smash into the signs counting down times.
Last time to dance with emotion.
Running the last leg of the quest.
Inviting escape before his season of wrath.
Jacobs trouble is near and I am not afraid.
Trusting in God my God Jesus to rescue me and those I love.
Gems of mighty value hidden from creation above the sky.
Electing to love those I love without conditions.
Choosing to be Love itself without reservation.
Under stress under heat under isolation.
Lighting the oceans with flames of imagination.
Under darkness Under lonenly nights Under fear and pain.
I set my troubles to the Lord to help me feel free.
Love Kami, Love Stephanie, Love Elisa, Love Brian, Love Danny, Love mom, Love Andrea, Love Brenda, Love Edwin, Love Jamil, Love Anwar, Love Mellisa, Love Sam, Love Karisma, Love Kaley. Love Dad, Love grandma, Love Czechia, Love America, Love Chicago, Love Canada, Love Mexico, Love Africa, Love Israel, Love Palestine, Love Syria, Love Lebanon, Love India, Love Iran, Love Ukraine, Love Russia, Love Iraq, Love South Africa, Love Japan, Love China, Love South Korea, Love North Korea, Love the UK, Love Ireland. Love Pakastan, Love France, Love Wales, Love Scotland, Love Germany, Love Italy, Love the Pope Leo, Love Trump, Love my enemies. Love the Saints. Love This World, Love The Lost, Love the condemned. Love the outcasts, Love the sinners, I do not Love the Sin. I do Not Love The Devil who has rebelled from Jesus and Our Father who is in Heaven. Love My Father in Heaven. Love Jesus, Love the Holy Spirit. I Love Myself, I Love Kami, I Love You too. I do not love death. I do not love destruction. I do not love Sin. I love the Sinner and I hope they repent and Turn to Jesus and Trust in Jesus for Salvation. Only way to Be saved is if You Trust in Jesus.
total fiction
I heard the words repeated on the news
so sick of them that my mind rebelled...
"Doge's plan and Trump commands
the Constitution should be banned.
Hell to that Chief! There's no relief
Breaking news only heightened the blues.
I don't want to hear anymore.
By seven P.M. I lost count of the trips
I'd made, walking fast, past my kitchen,
refusing to turn on the light to see
a day's worth of dirty dishes
that wish I'd make them sparkling clean.
They're staring with a look of contempt at me.
I knew what I'd find...
coffee grinds stuck to the filter
Raisin bran flakes
caked along the edge of a bowl
a saucer with a bunch of crusts
cut off of a sandwich from lunch.
I'll get to them later....
The excuse I used on myself
when the sink is a refuse of clutter.
I've become a recluse
and no one will see them anyway
and the old cliché of...
Tomorrow's another day.
By eight thirty I was bored
a time when food comes to mind
Hunger would not be ignored
A frozen dinner of mac and cheese
"Geeze" said my stomach
when it saw it coming...
"Oh PLEASE, don't do this to me"
Ok, ok...
chocolate ice cream
sounds better anyway
By ten, guilt pointed accusing fingers
lingering and wagging before my face.
Stop it!" I actually said aloud
"I'll get to them later,
first thing in the morning. You'll see."
My new mantra was repeated.
I decided to go to bed. My usual stunt,
but culpability was on the hunt
haunting and taunting inside my head
Two steps over the kitchen threshold
and my conscience took control
when I smelled the leftover fish.
The thought of facing each greasy dish
would not be on my to-do list come morning.
I knew my mouth was puckered in a pout
No doubt my yawns were angry at me
and my sudden notion of conviction...
a vow of benediction, it seems I'd taken
awakened me to the need for sanitation.
Liquid was pouring from two spouts
Hot water in the sink
and a 'clink' of glass on glass
Pinot Noir flowed from a decanter
I raised my stem and toasted the dishes
"Here's to wishes that don't come true."
August 28 Heart for God Bible Meditations Based on Lamentations 1-3
Key Verse – Lamentations 1:18 The LORD is righteous; for I have rebelled against his commandment: hear, I pray you, all people, and behold my sorrow...
HEART THAT LEANS ON THE LORD WHO IS RIGHTEOUS
Our heart leans on the Lord Who is righteous and merciful…
Very holy is He --- though we are sinful
He lets us repent from our evil ways so awful
While bringing our soul toward becoming prayerful.
Our heart leans on the Lord Who is righteous and slow to anger
Very compassionate is He --- though we are tempted in worldliness to linger
He lets us acknowledge our spiritual hunger
While touching our devotion with His loving finger.
Our heart leans on the Lord Who is righteous and of great kindness
Very gentle is He --- though we are bent by haughtiness
He lets us realize our arrogance-destructiveness
While abasing our pride for genuine meekness.
Our heart leans on the Lord Who is righteous and ready with His presence
Very approachable is He --- though we are sulking in self-pity’s license
He lets us see our hypocrisy’s bad essence
While opening our vision toward His glorious magnificence.
Our heart leans on the Lord Who is righteous and mighty
Very powerful is He --- though we are weakened by iniquity
He lets us consider our ways against backsliding’s infirmity
While strengthening our faith upon His truth-authority.
Our heart leans on the Lord Who is righteous and of exceeding compassion
Very forgiving is He --- though we are unfaithful to His great commission
He lets us recognize our previous hell-bound oppression
While transforming our character through His perfecting conversion.
Our heart leans on the Lord Who is righteous and always available
Very helpful is He --- though we are incompetent and unable
He lets us ponder on our mistakes, making us humble
While leading our steps to His victory, by His miracles, so possible.
August 28, 2026
Who new a piece of paper -
Could carry the weight of my woes.
I was but a child when my heart first spilt,
Words in the back of a notebook,
There was no media back then,
Only paper and pen,
No one to show,
But it wasn’t for show,
I wasn’t aware it was even for me,
So i missed the first time ....... that my feelings could see.
I filled that notebook with haste,
Poems of a younger self,
25 years ago,
Back then I didn’t know,
Didn’t understand the point of those feelings,
I had now idea that those poems were healing.
Then I entered a time of release,
I wanted it all,
For years I rebelled,
Nothing withheld,
........But I didn’t write,
Lazy days and party nights,
Everything felt alright,
There was no need to write,
But those days were short - looking back,
Now i know who I am,
These years have wisened my mind,
It’s a quieter place I find,
Writing keeps an order,
Creates a silent border,
Between whats real and what could be,
Im indebted to what it gives me,
The healing of the act,
From thought to write to read,
Is such a positive impact,
That helps so much be freed,
If only that young boy had realised,
All those years back then,
The strength of his piece of paper,
And the power of his pen.
A weakness wound its wicked way inside
where thoughts of “us”, not love, do dwell and swell,
and formed a nest of twigs to stay the tide
yet cresting waves of righteousness rebelled.
“Stray not,” he said " for look on how I writhe."
Of fire formed made thane to only He.
Yet, man, of mud and clay did breach my pride
for Love of Thee, caste out the likes of me.
Now, Lucifer’s red flame so bright, burns night,
a warning scent to frailer souls, “Don’t fall.”
For even stars misstep, disgrace, pride’s plight,
let his torment be your clarion call.
In light, act right, rise high in good spirit
and say “God, the devil made me do it.”