Long Reconcile Poems
Long Reconcile Poems. Below are the most popular long Reconcile by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reconcile poems by poem length and keyword.
Acquaintance
harmonize
praise
optimize
&aspire
serenity
convey
bestow
believe
&bolster
perceive
perform
poise
persuade
&persevere
aplomb
support
sensation
nurture
&cuddle
magnify
maintain
manage
mediate
&motivate
cogitate
handle
heave
hoist
&hone
select
alternative
celebrate
compete
&connect
vanquish
reconcile
venerate
graciously
&vouchsafe
chivalrously
weave
weep
whisper
&withstand
unbuckle
reveal
understand
to untangle
&utterly
1st place contest winner
Written: March 08, 2023
Strand Premier No 1096 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
What do I call that young coquette?
My shadow self; my silhouette.
Those clothes, that hair, a cigarette.
The joie de vivre; the vain regret.
What sort of pithy epithet
will she recall, lest I forget?
Perhaps, instead a sobriquet
for who I was back in the day.
But what would she wish to portray?
Somewhat naive, a bit risqué?
A wounded child or power play?
“All that and more!” is what she’d say.
That girl who played a victim game
(though she would make the counter-claim).
A femme fatale; a wild flame.
A spirit not a soul could tame.
Both full of pride and full of shame,
all contradiction just the same.
It all feels now as but a dream,
that martyr of her own regime.
A fog of war; a distant scream.
An echo of one’s disesteem.
A soldier who would self-redeem
and break her shackles at the seam.
Now when she comes to mind I smile,
recalling each and every mile
we marched and fought in rank and file.
We failed, we wailed, we shed the guile
to wake and heal and reconcile
a misspent youth and life worthwhile.
*****************************
I beg of guilt to riddance my sin,
sincerity mixed pleasure of call deep within.
My mind of haze to idea once preformed,
mascot contribution to my theatrics well formed.
Beauty and a beast to a sickening desire,
my body fuelled with pain from my minds deep transpire.
Berate of my complexion, fabrication and hope,
sacrifice my solitude with hopes of being cleansed deeper than soap.
Cremation from the burning of wait does bring forth,
my stature destined to the mirror now morph.
Soul, hand of pasture ,and faith in the god once named,
all placed in pieces of a figure left to blame.
Waiting on a miracle to work to good deed,
hoof of purest lamb now sentenced to breed.
Thorn and thistle cursed to beauty of rose,
man’s fortune to women with a price of propose.
System segregation from the people born truth,
turn to natures sin in purpose of youth.
Belief met bravery in hand of defeat,
rush to the opening of a church in large fleet.
Memory reconcile with death fortune placed,
sanction granted to power in need of erase.
Intelligence fought sympathy in the war of troubled mind,
am I useless without leadership if my demise meet unkind?
Body built to the soil cursed by I man,
colonies trapped in brutality of gods plan.
Beggar, theif, and humanity at hand,
Are criminals to be punished if future lie in the sand?
Is truth upon belief of a system unpredicted,
the structure a temple yet torture left unrestricted.
Mind place of memory to the mistreatings underway,
if I hold power to speak why should boundaries get a say?
Free speech is a right in the rule book of law,
however issue runs deep with dictatorship to core.
Does a cry of babe not rustle in your mind?
A predator to be freed yet a crook to be fined.
A god of justice is spoken in scripture,
but thy neighbour is thought on suspicion, never close to a sister. Harmony sung in words comprise,
dealings from the devil while society treat to infantilise.
If a body is a right to the owners spoken truth,
why should societal exception meet way to the youth?
For a pasture, a priest, or a saint of country name,
would allow such action to ignight as if flame.
Then action should compromise the wrongdoing upon mass,
the power of performative government is as fragile as glass.
Me and my beloved, our bonded souls,
I carry our love beneath my beaten soles.
The warmth of our fire burns rapid coals,
A fleeting flame that mends my woes.
Without you the world is barren and dry,
The sun feels distant in a meaningless sky.
Until the sun sets and beside you I lie,
My weary eyes cannot help but cry.
Meshed like chains, our fates intertwine;
I feel as if your heart were truly mine.
Though only in dreams, your love I define;
Forevermore, my dear Valentine.
Morning appears; may we reconcile,
For when I wake, you leave me in exile.
The light condemns me to a waking trial,
Yet I long for your presence all the while.
My love remains, but you disappeared,
Leaving a ghost of what I held dear.
An empty core that was once so near,
Still, I shall forever wait for you here.
I rest to see you, however bleak;
I ache for your touch, even a caress of my cheek.
A love so profound, yet forbidden to speak;
Until I depart, it is you that I seek.
I plead for the moment I fall into slumber,
For thoughts of you could never encumber.
I dream of a love that feels so tender,
Then wake to a world that will not surrender.
My heart with sorrow fills to the brim,
Was loving you merely a desperate whim?
It cannot be true; your memory grows dim.
Now I realize I was never loved by him.
Forgive our want--
A yummy croissant,
Instead of a just savant
To being mind's commandant.
Supply our needs,
Not considering our deeds,
The troubling fiery care bleeds,
To water hunting desire's pure seeds.
Forgive the delight,
Foaming up in its might;
To reconcile in order to spite,
Dad, win its logic over out of its sight.
Supply us the treasures,
With big shared pleasures,
Beyond our viewing measures,
In its canal possible adventures.
Forgive the pain,
Drop the striking cain,
Let its power grow in vain
And let loose the holding chain!
Supply us the gain,
Open the reservoir's rain;
Wash away our silent complain,
Energize Your praises hearty campaign!
Forgive the good crime,
That is as sweet as lime.
Started long through mime,
Growing wings to fly in grime.
Supply us the good time,
The one that is so sublime,
That pleases You as we climb,
The goal's ladder to the full prime.
Forgive the school,
That makes us so drool,
Posing problems real cool,
To refine us into a fair jewel.
Supply us the tool,
Not to appear a fool,
And be drown in life's pool,
Rather be able to get life's key, rule.
Forgive the tease,
Supply us peace.
Forgive dream,
Get reality to redeem.
Forgive slave that are brave,
Supply freedom and cover up grave.
Forgive the feet,
Supply clues to retreat.
Forgive hope,
Grant grace beyond scope.
Won't You forgive the leaders,
Enslaving the awesome readers?
He turned the pages, one by one, alone, stepping.
Watched every hope of solvency dethroned, ebbing.
His boot sunk deep in last year's debt, still squelching,
His ledger keeping its grief in ink, to blot its flinching.
"Just one more loan, please," the owner sighed.
"To keep us afloat, to turn the ebbing tide."
The accountant knew that tug all too well—
Each rescue simply paid the swamp another toll.
Sunk cost cared nothing for the past.
Yet no one wished it to be the last.
To walk away from money spent before,
Was to leave footprints asking for more.
Creative figures dressed the slime in gray.
Each borrowed sum still carried more debt to pay.
The swamp, it seemed, kept better books than most,
Yet every asset counted, twice, returned as a ghost.
He mused on how debt, like mud, compounds with time,
Each interest another footnote in the crime's rhyme,
To "amortize" a debt, in truth, was so unkind,
Being a mortise joint no carpenter would design to bind.
They praised new books as solvent, clean and clear,
Not knowing solvent means "to loosen," - my dear.
The firm dissolved in slow, respectable degrees,
While the client toasted his fees with: 'Yes please'!
To reconcile the books was not the same game,
As learning how to live inside its own shame.
The figures balanced, tidy, clean, and neat,
While something older was whispering beneath his feet.
"Write it off," the honest voice quickly advised,
Yet honesty, like boots in mud, was being compromised.
For every truth deferred, a new fee quietly accrued—
Was the client drowning, or his conscience being pursued?
For honesty said: 'Cut the losses, crisp and clean',
Dear profit whispered: stretch the in-between.
He knew which sane voice a wise man would heed—
Yet only heard which one, kept sowing reeds of greed.
"A Going Concern," he proclaimed; though doubt remained,
A phrase that kept the failing firm sustained.
Each quarter yet another swamp was set in place
To rehearse, fifty degrees of sinking in disgrace.
a pastoral piece (free verse)
He works hard to write of the evils of sinning.
then sneaks home with Playboy to read after supper.
He preaches wrong habits week in and week out but
those same habits are alright when his sun goes down.
He's split between knowing his tight from his loose;
and has yet to distinquish his white from his black
A very dull clerk runs his office in daytime
but at night, he finds her quite bright on a barstool.
Nightly x-ratings range in sight on his TV,
knowing a penchant to keep some things hidden,
Can he learn to reconcile his night and his day?
Will he ever settle what's light and what's dark?
When fear turns to flight will he think he's won?
When his bark comes to bite him, will he think again?
2
Pain and suffering which we are often forced to endure
are an anguish of the mind which we cannot ignore
at times we have tried to help someone in need
only to receive in return greater troubles to heed
To lose the power to do that which is right
nothing worse other than the greatest slight
while the more we might struggle to be set free
the more these troubles increase in their intensity
As we contemplate what the end will bring
sometimes seeing nothing but sorrow for everything
then our friends bare witness, what have we become
a confused conscience is all that we have won
As time goes by, left is but a single memory to recall
when this too is gone, what remains but our own downfall
so we seek an escape, some refuge, anywhere to run
but we find it is too late, our web has already been spun
Everything in life has a price, only sometimes we realize to late
how much precious time we wasted, as we approach our final gate
while the clock ticks away, and with the inevitable growing near
sorrowfully reflecting on our past, for in the end who would care
A smart man learns from his own mistakes, this he will never repeat
while a wise man learns from the mistakes of others, and becomes complete
why continue to waste time, why suffer from that which cannot be made straight
there is great benefit in choosing wisely to avoid pain, and avert that terrible fate
Reconcile yourself with the facts of life, real happiness comes only with sacrifice
it is foolishness for one to think, you can have both worlds living a life of vice
just weigh the temporal pleasures you so much sought, and what they really cost
in the world of truth we will find, only righteousness is ours, all else will be lost
Window ledge song
Stray sparrows sing;
A choral duo
~~~~~~~~~
Rain drops slide
Blurry window view;
Furious stormy night
~~~~~~~~~
Not much to say
Old couple sit;
Passing people punctuate
~~~~~~~~~
Coffee maker sounds
Morning makeovers;
Caffeine fix retort
~~~~~~~~~
From this penthouse
Brief promontory;
Puzzling landscapes
~~~~~~~~~
Lovely couple
Youth presides;
Time will tell
~~~~~~~~~
Haiku moment
Zero metaphor;
Captured picture
~~~~~~~~~
Plain words
Tell not describe;
Look and see
~~~~~~~~~
Curious pantomime
Merge into a dream;
Fall into another
~~~~~~~~~
Joy waits
Sorrow appears;
Opposites reconcile
~~~~~~~~~
Eastern view
Western education;
Two worlds endow
~~~~~~~~~
Awakening
Awareness
Abundance
~~~~~~~~~
Bus stop queue
Gadgets in hand;
Electronic toys
~~~~~~~~~
Social media
Conspiracy theories;
Insidious intents
~~~~~~~~~
Girl and boy
Two whirls collide;
Fancy intervenes
~~~~~~~~~
Years have etched
Facial sculptures;
Deep wrinkles attest
~~~~~~~~~
Cite and recite
Write and re-write;
Nothing much
~~~~~~~~~
Opposites attract
To balance out;
Not much more
~~~~~~~~~
Curious wonder
Time runs away;
Not much left
~~~~~~~~~
Like attracts like
To boost buzz;
Ample estates
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
10 May 2015
Singapore
The righteous ones claim justice must be served,
but what exactly do they mean by that;
a conflict in our thoughts that I’ve observed
requires us all to be a diplomat.
While justice from a legal point of view
means what is legislated into law,
but from a moral view we can construe
that social justice overcomes the flaw.
So what are we to make of these demands
for justice by the people in the streets
while holding signs and echoing their stands
as Congress rather gutless keeps their seats.
Perhaps we need to reconcile the rift
between the moral and the legal shift.
December 18,2018