Long Rejected Poems
Long Rejected Poems. Below are the most popular long Rejected by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rejected poems by poem length and keyword.
Left His Heavenly Kingdom to be born to be born with humble manger with Animals
Was a target for murder from the moment of His birth
Accused of leading and deceiving people
Was arrested as a criminal
Knew that even His own death would not be able to save whom He loved
Was criticized by His own Methods
Was insulted and called names
Was rejected by disciples
Anticipated His upcoming great suffering that even His sweat became drops of blood
Although pronounced “Not guilty”, was chosen for death by a mob of people over a true murderer
These are Jesus Christ’s trials and Suffering
He suffered all these things for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven
"Who was appointed heir of all things,
Wasn't He born the King of Kings?
So, what of the Father's is left for me,
When I have rejected the Son's deity?
What was my neglect that caused this loss,
His sin and trespass offering on the cross?
What must I do to inherit eternal life,
When now I inherit ruin and strife?"
"Pay close attention to the Son's salvation,
His sacrifice delivers from condemnation.
The Son has paid it all on behalf of all,
So, the Father has bestowed His windfall.
Faith in the Son secures transformation,
From slave-to-sin to joint-heir relation.
Only by faith in the Son can you inherit,
But never by relying on your own merit.
Then an inheritance in the Son is reserved for you,
Protected by God until your sojourn is through.
Trust Me when I say, 'There is no other way.'"
Living v living
By Dominique Smith
Mirror images are flooded with joy compassion is overlooked and the heart that beated for it echoes across the pond. Neglected and overwhelmed both extremely acidic. You eat your favorite food and you drink your wine. Flashes of off color flowers, hey they call you look up at the reflection of normality.
In your hand a cold stone, smooth to the touch of your finger tips, small but fragrant scent of salty air. Wind sweep's past your ears, hey are you ok? They call but when you speak you smile and say yes, you blink it's three days later and you have more smooth cold stones. You feel you touch you taste the way every being has had and will. The plant is there over watered, Goosebumps comes from your skin. The hair on your arms flex like the leafs on a Autumn tree.
You shutter to thought of a misstep, you count the steps as you move your hand down the railing, Broad hallways are dark and quiet. Your hair on your head falls to your shoulders. the tips of said hair grow pale, Hey you with us? They ask you looking at the ceiling but never directly at you. You answer with a smile with a nodding motion. The table grows longer and the faces blur. You're respected, rejected, inspected, humiliated,praised, and thrown away. No one hears your whispers because you have none. You look at yourself image through the eyes of the confused, You ponder have you been living or living.
A vagabond of despond
With nowhere left to belong
He wandered beneath the sun above
Still searching for a tender soul to love
For so long, he flew from place to place
Hoping to find a heart that would embrace
The fragile soul he carried within
The wounded heart beneath his skin
But rejected and neglected time after time
He slowly lost his reason to fly
He slept through the warmth of the daytime
And lay beneath the stars at nighttime
Alone with his sorrow, hidden in the shadow
He thought that he was better off alone
The dove that once searched for someone to love
Slowly grew darker beneath the moon above
Down below, he became cold as snow
The once soft dove, now a terrifying crow
The only thing he could do was bow
And pray to God to free him from his woe
I watched a prompting feature by a dynamic actor,
his life seemed vivacious with an ardent factor;
today I heard he'd hanged himself to an annulled death,
deserted fears overpowered zeal in his last breath.
I read an exuberant story by a young wizard of words,
he weaved a mystical world of magical unbound birds;
today I read he'd poisoned himself desolate in bed,
forsaken wounds hidden in his entranced utopia bled.
I lulled to sleep listening to a soothing old song,
the vocalist hummed a hopeful melody of spirits strong;
today I found he'd killed himself in a forgotten car crash,
derelict ruins of his past made his symphony backlash.
I wondered why remarkable people succumb to pain,
until I witnessed a neglected neighbor cry amid rain;
he has always been bounteous to those he greets,
with bubbling rhapsodies of witty puns he treats.
I remembered the times I've been withdrawn, glum,
reverberating void rejected flickers of hope so numb;
in times like those my stranded ship found a shore,
when I turned my disowned courage to a meek roar.
While lost souls bask in shimmers of uplifting drops in rays,
their suspended cobwebs in dark alleys lit by smiles in haze;
I wish we hold marooned hands to keep walking ahead,
my unnoticed neighbor gleams with healing tears shed.
*Poet's Note: A promising artist hanged himself to death today which led me to ponder upon something I have felt. I've always witnessed great uplifting souls(even commoners) to bid goodbye to this world when the last drop of their courage evaporated. Most of the people mask their pain behind their courageous, upfront, cheerful selves publicly. The world needs more love, hope and blessings to let people notice and understand each other because every single human being experiences depression at some point in life. It is none but we who can be the guiding light to each other. This year has been a test of faith already. Let's help ourselves and others to heal the souls.*
June 14, 2020
Thesaurus - Abandon or Abandoned Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance(Dear Heart)
~Winner: First Place
Like those bones in the valley
My life was scattered all over
Each person that came in my life
cut a little piece of me and left with it
Each cut piece left a deep wound
And i was left in a pool of blood
Rotting in my own world
Dieing between thumbs like a tick
Then he came
Found me in tatters of shame
Like garbage on the street
Piece after piece he picked me up
The Lord Jesus
gathered me together
a pillar of rejected junk
He looked at my shy eyes and smiled
That day his love started to heal me
wound after wound
pain after pain
And all the shame was gone
Then he brought you
To deal with this trauma
He knew a mom was the best
He brought you to shine hope to a dark soul
God knew its you that would touch
The scars and never create wounds again
He wanted me to know that with Him all things are possible
So he brought you mom
Your love is pure
I have been drawn more to Christ
And i know now
He has gathered all my scattered pieces
Dedicated to Cinda Carter
Etched in my soul
is the peace of a lonely ruin,
an old chapel on the skull
of a hill surrounded by pastureland
and wind-swept trees.
Below a lake stretches into the distance,
its waves lapping the mottled shores,
its waters harboring a variety of fishes,
its surface mutating according to nature's whims.
I lie on my bed in my urban hovel,
a small window opened ajar,
I smell the effluvial stink of the dirty alley,
I hear the hellish hustle and bustle
of the mad world outside,
the world that rejected me, leaving me jobless
on the verge of homelessness
on the brink of famine.
Like a somnambulist, I walk away
like a drugged addicted old man,
and limp towards my haven far away.
The way is long, and torturous, and steep.
I fall, get up, knees bleeding, but keep on
until at last I reach the top where silence reigns.
What did I expect to find here?
I look down as the earth stretches before me.
And wonder what must He had felt
with a panorama such as this
as He hang on a tree,
blood dripping from a thousand wounds.
There was no silence then but only jeers.
Here on the skull of my haven is silence and peace
and I wonder: would there have been
silence and peace, had He
not died so many years ago?
African I Am
An African I am
From the motherland,
The charms of natures wits
Hair,nose,lips
My ancestral gifts.
With the beauty of an inner soul,
I will spread the joy of unity,
To the discredited,rejected and ejected
To the confused branches,
Blown and scattered in the winds of discord
Elevating to alien drifts,
Whilst roots disengage from the soil,
Of an African heritage
Laden with gold
Contrasting,uniting with an availing skin
Dark ebony,golden sun.
Self love,hope and yearning
To be what I am
And not what I am told to be
This is freedom
True liberty.
But many have gone astray
Father guide them back to the fold.
Africa awaits you!
Just be bold.
(written in collaboration with Thererassic Black BNVillage}
Without doubt a small isle but one of natural beauty
Such a tranquil emerald place, the Isle of Innisfree
Set in Irelands Lough Gill in the County of Sligo
And holds for me fond memories of so long ago.
I met my first love at the loughs shore, a pretty colleen
Grace Ann was her name and she was just sixteen
And that first long hot summer that we spent together
Still plays on my mind and the love we had for each other.
We'd row across to the Isle often and stay all day long
And spent many hours talking and singing our song
A pact we both made, that we'd be together for life
I as her loving husband and she as my loving wife.
We'd dream of building a house there, just her and me
And later we'd have children, our very own family
We would have a laugh about that, it was just fantasy
But I knew that we'd be happy wherever we'd be.
We finished school in September and were waiting to see
If we'd been successful in our application, for Dublin Uni
Sadly, some of our friends, had their application's rejected
But Grace and I'd been lucky because we'd been accepted.
The week before our departure , she went with some friends to town
And as they crossed a busy road, a drunk driver mowed them down
Two of her friends were slightly injured but Grace died at the scene
Her young life taken from her; she'd just turned seventeen.
I became very withdrawn and just wished it'd been me
And lost interest in everything and even a place at uni
I went to the funeral home to see, one last time her pretty face
And there in a white coffin lay an angel; my beautiful Grace.
I blamed myself for her death; she'd wanted to stay in with me
But I said "Go out with your friends and have a farewell party"
After her funeral I left for England and joined the merchant navy
In the hope I'd leave behind memories of that awful tragedy.
I couldn't face going back home and its now been thirty years
Just the thought of going back there would fill my eyes with tears
In my free time I'd go up on deck and just stare out to sea
And my mind would drift back to that summer, with Grace and Innisfree.
Written 11th December 2020.
Inspired by The Lake Isle Of Innisfree by Irish Poet W. B. Yeats
Cold and withered my heart mildly beats,
As my mind plays my past in short repeats.
Withdrawn and rejected, I feel so low,
The world doesn’t stop repeating its blow.
I look out the window and feel the wind brush my cheeks,
Even when I want to let go; my past stalks me through years, months and weeks.
People have a tendency to hurt others bad,
They don’t even care if it makes the recipient sad.
Their hatred for others burns so strong,
They look past everything; the right and the wrong.
They use their slashing tongues and their violent lips,
Yes, their words hit me hard and slash through like treacherous whips.
I fight back with all my might,
My words spewed to kill them on sight.
A verbal war; an ugly battlefield,
Except for hatred nothing else will it ever yield.
My own words shock me out of this miserable trance,
I realize I want to stop this off-beat dance.
But when I turn to let go and run,
Hatred arms hold me close preventing me to stop the “fun”.
And when it stops and everything settles down,
With no one atop a throne, or wearing his royalty in a crown
Why can’t people choose for peace, to find?
A verbal war leaves a putrid atmosphere behind.
I could cry, I could repent,
I could spend a million years and never know what it meant.
Hatred is such a far-cry from peace,
Its toxic fumes can envelope you and you might never know life’s true bliss.