Long Rejection Poems
Long Rejection Poems. Below are the most popular long Rejection by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rejection poems by poem length and keyword.
The people surrounding me keep asking “why are you going back and forth uneasily on the empty stage shedding crocodile tears, and telling the stories of negative effects on others, though you are not of a man of faculty who is even able to produce a theory comparable to 'Blind Will of Universe', one of worst hypothesizes a man can think of.
It’s because though,
when a worldly-minded snob shouts from a podium
“you should have a positive attitude,” while displaying
his resume proudly with the title that is little-to-do with his personality,
his limited academic background that barely conceals the lack of intelligence, and insignificant accomplishment with somewhat concocted experience hiding his real being and thought, he receives respect from the audience who fascinated by every movement the snob makes in the form of applaud with standing ovation, I was always treated badly from audience, fed only by unwelcome astringent fruits of rejection and drink bitter tasting water sprang from unwanted rotten roots to quench my desire…
And that’s why the course of my reasoning became negative,
and, as a natural consequence, no matter how often you may say
to the audience “you ought to be a person of positive attitude,”
since there are more negative aspects surrounding us than
the positive elements, and that’s why I was accepted by
others negatively. More importantly, I was treated negatively
from others simply because reality goes before me.
Although positive thinkers boast themselves as if their thoughts are
sound and healthy, by saying that the water in a cup is half full;
negative thinkers sigh with a defected air and say that a cup is
half empty. However, it doesn’t make any difference how you think,
men’s thoughts cannot surpass the physical phenomena
and, therefore, a half is a half, no more nor less than a half.
In the boundary and limit is as such, whether you like it or not,
men have to go on the path of their own destiny.
Then, why does everyone has to have a positive attitude? I suppose,
that is, not more than a writhe of the men who won’t admit reality
in desperate agony. That’s the self-gratification of men
who are not able to face the facts as they are.
[The irony is, nonetheless, man is able to bear and raise a baby
by an act of self-gratification. It’s amazing, the world is a place
full of wonders.]
Bring on the rejection slips and/or lost wager
Though flush with good humor
pun one mock two yields negligible
true cash equivalent value won
dirt poor offspring privileged as prodigal son
pockets bursting with legal tender,
where just yesterday I had none.
All polite declinations
strung together would circle...
(fill in the blank)
matter of fact, I just got a slew of them
today June 9th, 2020, what a lucky man
me haint an idealist...,
but winning poetry (writing) contest
or purchasing lottery tickets...
yeah, nothing butta pipe dream
such improbable whimsical notion
linkedin and tantamount
with milkmaid and pail
Aesop pose fabulous incredulous solution
finally good riddance
hand to mouth existence
hello riches, perchance a dollop
and/or sizable windfall courtesy
drawn PowerBall and/or Mega Million ticket
whereby yours truly suddenly
cursed with chump change,
and/or abundant money
would experience "fifteen minutes of fame"
flush with friends and relatives
I (a misanthrope) never knew existed
(perhaps even marriage proposition,
no matter wedded bliss prevails)
interesting... how moderate
and/or substantial wealth
suddenly finds chock a block
acquisitions (regarding brand new automobile,
custom designed house,
travel opportunities galore
(maybe even vacation to Mars)
(despite coronavirus - COVID -19) prevalence,
nevertheless awareness viz immutability altering
pubescent stunted emotional, physical
and social development
profusely sweating hands, social anxiety
all the while knowing money
can't buy happiness,
yet once and for all at long last
free and clear of grinding poverty
cuz groveling along
the pockmarked highway
avails countless exit ramps
plethora of choices
how to be analogous to jolly Roger
piloting immense ship of state
(approximating size of Rhode Island)
equipped with the latest trappings
matter of fact replete
with every creature comfort
analogous to rich
self sufficient independent country
allowing, enabling, and providing
a warm welcome - think unfurled
Harris tweed Scottish welcome mat.
Meanwhile somewhere in Schwenksville,
Pennsylvania resident
(within apartment B44)...
tenant fritters precious time wishfully thinking
(luxuriant life within theoretical leisure class)
finding this nameless scrivener
invariably hoisting himself by his own petard.
My Dear, Please understand.
You cant force your light upon him.
You might be the reason he smiles while his eyes squint and sparkle.
His laughter will certainly affirm your clever humor.
You will impress him with well-earned accomplishments.
Your impeccable wit will not go unnoticed.
He may even feel affection and empathize with your sincere words or actions.
You will undeniably allure him.
My dear, please understand.
You are truly worthy, you won't be to him.
You will choose him, he won't choose you.
He can't.
My dear, please understand.
His rejection is not a reflection of you.
His actions reflect something much bigger than you.
He is at war with demons you can't comprehend.
These demons whisper to his mind and dance on his heart.
They represent the weaknesses within him.
My dear,
You possess a servant's heart
but you are no servant of the demons that play on his.
We are all at war, you too have demons.
Demons are relentless creatures sent from the depths of Hell
they ravage and destroy our very being, if we allow.
There is no reasoning, no alliance that can be made with demons.
They will consume you from the inside.
My dear, please understand.
It's not him. It's his demons he has allowed to rule over him.
This is a solo war that can't be fought from the outside.
You cannot save him.
You cannot save him.
You cannot save him.
Only he can save himself.
And you must prioritze the war you are fighting.
You must save yourself.
My dear, please understand.
He is not the validation that you need.
His actions should not reflect your value to yourself or to him.
He is not your father's rejection.
His sweet carress will not requite the man of your past who was once not so gentle.
His affection is not sufficient in replacing the empty hole
expanded by doubt, abandonment, and anguish you sanctioned your demons
to create within yourself.
My dear,
Your tenacious nature and relentless love will not be disregarded.
Your weaknesses, the demons who dance on your heart
will surely capture the attention of his very own demons.
My dear, please understand.
If granted; the demons that consume him
will gladly consume you too.
-Ashley Johnson
Lament was so excited
He had finally reached the age
Where he discovered the meaning
Of his name, so that he could gage
....his future
As the clan gathered
Into a circle around the fire
Tears of sorrow and grief
Lined their faces, as he began to desire
....no name
His "father" spoke a truth
Nothing or no one wanted to hear
"You were left in the woods
After the battle, so we took you into our fear
...of the gods
No child is to be left alone
But you are not part of our clan
We vowed to raise you
Until this day, when you become a man
...of no land
Your name means sorrow and grief
And identifies you as a bastard child
No matter where you go
Your name will cause you rejection, like the wild
....animal without a home"
Lament picked up his belongings
And walked away with crooked bow on his back
He finally understood the why
Of his life, always needing, and constant lack
....of basic necessities
Along his journey, he met a man
A wanderer in the desert of time
He gave him a huge bag of goods
That would entertain, as he dealt with his mind
....of intense rage
A few years down the road
He met a woman with a red coat
Who offered him wine for sorrow
And a harp, to play out, note by note
...his grievances
By the time Lament saw the next man
He yelled out, "I can't carry anymore stuff!"
The man, in patient assurance
Asked, "So you have had enough
...of seeking your own?"
Lament laid down his burden
And walked away from all he had known
For the hope of seeing fruit
From the constant toil and struggle, in the seeds he'd sown
...throughout his journey
After decades of walking with the man
Lament was given a brand new name
His name became Isaac
Laughter, in sorrow, means he would never be the same
...bastard, as before
He found out who his true father is
He created the ground Isaac walked upon
Every moment with with the man
Strengthened and solidified, the eternal bond
...of belonging
One day, the man asked Issac
"Where is your bow that made you a man?"
He answered, "It was crooked
So I left it behind, with the clan
...who gave me my name"
Toward the end of his life
Isaac met a clan member on the road
Who shouted out, "Lament"
But Isaac didn't respond, to the name with a goad
...of rejection
He walked on....fully accepted
Written by Trudy Schrader on 04-20-2019
Your thoughtless talking
Got me running and walking
Our reflection of cyber-sensation is not genuine
You're playing with my feelings and head now...that's mean...
Where have you been?
I have lost you...once again...
How can I forgive you, boo,
When we can't see face to face?
Searching all over for you too
Am I just this overwhelming disgrace?
Oh, What now?
Ah, now what?
You have taken me on levels of frustration...I weep sleep in awake agitation
Watching the process of abuse over the years
Shallow swimmer, shadows out if the closet of velvet hesitation
You and I together drives me in bittersweet tears
In instant return,
I get your rejection reflection
I internally burn
Not involved in your life of successful intervention....
Oh no, not anymore...
Hurt alone to the core...
I shed my blood of hate for our love on my own
And, in your eyes, I'm a pitiful fool and the aftershocks of your actions had made it known and let it be shown...I don't care, I'd rather bleed in the inside alone...
Alone, I will probably be...
Not alone, you're so free...
Your senseless subjection
Of my submissive affection
It astonishes me...
Mmmmm
Wholeheartedly
Mmmmm
It vanishes vainly...
Ahhhhhh
Unfortunately...
Ahhhhhh
Yet, fortunately...
Ah, oh so wistfully
It is incredibly of envy...
I have lived to witness momentarily...
Fair or not, I love who I want to...sorry, but not sorry
Suffocated by the overwhelming elevation you sent me from miles away
You're dominant to my passion-whelmed mind's eye I can't deny or even mutter a lie
Underrated and hated by the society that wants beauty without flaws, but I'm not that sun-shining day in California some even think or say
You're recessive to my heart's main focus and its target is what's truly in your heart of sticks and stones...is it of vibrant skies or of underground goodbye's, wrapped on in ribbons of why-do-I-even-try?
I'm not here to impress,
I'm here to, well, express
What's in my young heart
I know it's not a perfect masterpiece from the start
But I tried my best
To pass life's test
Here I am today, trying to tell the rest
That a cute poet, like a headstrong athlete, needs a good night's rest
Our love is like east to west...
Sorry, friend, but I won't detest
You and all you do for me
I am a land of captivity and you the sea of Liberty
~ This is a form of poetry called "Concrete" or form poetry or given another form name, it would be
or have
some of the characteristics as well of a form of poetry called, "Dirty Pretty: Where the words form a picture
pertaining to the main theme or idea or themes of the poem itself, thereby giving it a more encompassing
view or understanding for the reader. ~
~ There was a liberty bell representing freedom. A Key that represents the way to freedom. A man of hatred
representing hate itself. An exclamation mark, representing the main idea of the poem itself, and a bird of
peace carrying and an aeolian liberty in its beak! ~
~ In this poem, the man of hatred, placing himself above the needs of the world, and- an eternal peace and
love, trying-to-know liberty, in turn, sadly through his fear and envy, his growing distrust of God and man
blocks only himself and others from the key. Which has always been accepting through the example of Jesus
Christ in love fully its-part. The honest and spiritless truth-of-its hand, the true Achilles heal of man, living in
darkness through the rejection of God its bitter greed, and blind indifference of another's cry for freedom
love and peace. ~
~ So may your genuine movements of the heart secure for yourself, and for another always, a perfect
peace, leaving its joy with another and you, and may then your love for life, be as generous, allowing your
spirit to fly in freedom in grace. As you grow in faith and trust, to know her well, soaring higher and higher
moving in perfect harmony with her ... the world, God, forever inspired through this;- and living-eternally;-
free ... ~
~ Thank you for reading ... bless you ... ~
~ The reason that there are Hyphens "so many of them") is because I have a computer that speaks them
with a faster and slower and higher and lower pitch of voice, giving a certain kind of ebb-and-flow to the work
with a softer more fervent and realistic and consistent tone, when I use the hyphens and other punctuation in
the certain places that I do, when in telling it what to do. Allowing it to speak in even a moderate voice if I
choose. It sounds very free flowing when I hear it, and I can only hope that you will be able to here it in the
same way. Thank you for reading and God bless you ... ~
James ~
Form:
Life is possibility
there are broad horizons out there for us all if only we will look
If children don’t succeed they try again or try something else –
life is about finding who we are, what our purpose is, and where our talents lay…
Just because we are not happy with something now
does not mean tomorrow will not bring brighter horizons
Get out and follow the rainbow of opportunity
its spectrum of options are numerous in number and variety
Look top your heart and minds desires and work with it
A potter will work with a piece of clay, take it and mold it
Squash it, slip it, turn - carve - colour - glaze and cook it
In attempt to master the minds perfection
We do not always get it right
but there is little that cannot be scrapped and redone
before too far down the path and then re-do
There is nothing to say if we become lost to our first desires
that in looking for others we shall not find where we should be at
or what it is we should be doing
Too many of yester-years children have grown up
to thinking they have no place within our society
they have become lost to lack of jobs
they are skilled and talented in own direction
as humans they bring chance to our world with new skills
those that are being lost through continual rejection
Each of us has personal pot of gold to find
not always is this financial but one that makes us feel needed
Each of us should be encouraging
so many live miles from home families divided miles apart
Community is individuality here and yet we need pull back together
for in doing so we will know each others needs to support
When the efforts of others become unrecognised
We can lose that which is vital to having the skills needed
for tomorrow or future years
Pulling together now and offering needed skills to fit in
An hour or two’s experience in an alternatve can keep us in touch with one another
I was always taught that none of us know what will happen to us in years ahead
Sowing seeds now could help us grow or keep us going then
Think twice because times are changing
Those latter years of our lives could perhaps see us working retirements
With those we helped along the way over us instead
Teach them what you know and they’ll remember
Maybe helping you in your struggles or perhaps retraining
Karma comes around as it goes around, make yours good!
Saloon
Squeezed between office buildings
On lower Broadway
Desolate and out of the way
Faint neon sign marks the place
For the downtown art scene.
Poetry readings on Sunday afternoons
Only the regulars show up
Invited or not
Some mount the stage and
Recite a piece or two
To scattered applause.
The beat goes on
Summer nights fly by
No Sunday readings now
It’s Saturday and it’s a different place.
Crowd mingles
Three deep at the bar
A/C working on overtime while
Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On plays
Jazzy and soulful
A monster hit
To no one’s surprise.
A hangout for anyone
Bodies waiting to meet
An Agent.
Or maybe a Publisher.
Or a Rep.
Anybody. Somebody. Anyone know somebody important?
Naw, this ain’t the place
This is St. Adrian’s
A place for
Artists.
Writers.
Sculptors.
Working class dreamers.
Pretenders and losers.
Wannabes.
Lost children and
Casual loners on the prowl.
Carol, alone in a corner booth
Glass of white wine in her hands
On the rocks of course
Smiles at everyone like a Mona Lisa.
Jack Micheline
Bronx’ original Beat
Wrote River of Red Wine in ‘58
Manuscript under his arm
Waits for someone
To buy him a drink
Elaine, beautiful in a peasant blouse
Scent of musk oil like a halo
Motions
To the young men
Who watch her hands
Move like deadly weapons
Stan’s a photographer. Sleepy, one night
Left his equipment in a car
Morning arrives and
Broken windshield screams
You’ve been robbed.
Junior, a sculptor, needs rent money for a walkup in the East Village
Otherwise he’ll live on someone’s couch
Gil does commercials
Until he finds an old lady
Then Hollywood here he comes
And Glenn is a writer with lots of ideas
But no paper and no place to go.
No one asked what I did for money
Or where I lived.
I was accepted with a simple sitdownhaveadrink.
Sometimes there’d be ten of us
Squeezed in a booth or
Around a table
Talking and talking.
Any topic not important
Just to meet and forget for awhile
The nagging loneliness and rejection.
It’s well past midnight
Chairs scrape the floor and there’s an echo in the walls
Left behind are empty glasses and stale beer
As the place begins to empty out.
We leave
Hitting the still streets
Looking for a cab
Or the nearest subway
But before we do
We promise to meet again.
I used to wonder
What you sounded like
What you looked like
Why you weren’t here
For so long,
I thought my punishment from God for all the wrong I was GONNA do, was your absence.
I wondered if I were simply a mistake of two teenagers who didn’t know their head from
their a$$es.
I used to ask about you, a lot.
I was either sent outside to play or given a look that told me I shouldn’t even be asking.
So I stopped and simply accepted what I had
And I always had plenty,
Even when I was too ungrateful to realize it.
I let thoughts of you go
During what I call ‘The Dark Years’
The years when I’d hardened my heart and my mind
The years when I felt like my life was founded on rejection and pain
The years when I didn’t care about much of anything, including myself
My teens and early twenties weren’t much fun at all.
Then something happened
I became a mother
The father proved that he wasn’t ready to be a father
I entered the real world
I got a better understanding of what you and Mommy just have faced
A better understanding of the responsibility it brings
Over the years
I’ve matured
I’ve gotten smarter
I’ve grown into a woman
And my mind came back to you
I started again to wonder
What you looked like
What you sounded like
If you thought of me, like I was thinking of you
My wonderment got the best of me and I replaced it with a need to know
To know
If you were still alive
If you lived close or far
If you were a fine, upstanding person
Or some cracked out drunken loser
Not that any of it really mattered
I just needed to know
So I began my search
For answers
For closure
For my father.
Each leg of my search brought me new revelations.
You were still alive
You were married
You had other children
And finally
An exact location
It took courage I didn’t have even know I had to send that letter
It took even more to answer that first phone call
Stomach flipping
Heart pumping
With a simple “hello”
A door opened
To my past
To my future
To the unanswered parts of me
To my father
Now that I’m here
I don’t regret a moment lost
I know that time cannot be replaced
But a new, improved future can be made.
And with you, my father
I’m looking forward to it.
Only if you knew that you live like a God in a place my heart has found you fit to rule
only if you knew that I would be the opposite of what God would cal one of his own if I Were to find out that not only I
Can make you smile and make you feel sugary and not have an explanation for it
Only if you knew
you would recent the idea of falling asleep on my chest
The very foundation of your peacekeeping concentration camp would play out like the rest
You would start believing in a curse
only if you knew what would happen in the Myst of a fairy-tale Adam and eve would see themselves immortalized in being chopped in half
if My existence learnt that the absence of another man in one of the most important days of your life brought you nothing but the question of where you stand
while I. The King Still reigns by your side
I would crack open the heavens and drag down an angel with its wing
Hold it down long enough till the sins of this earth stain it so that the rejection would last longer that than existence itself
Only if you knew
How that stayed with me without knowing
The honesty we find in solace
sets us on road trips we don't have lunch boxes for
sometimes,is it about listening or is about subjecting yourself to the moral of what is right
My dear
I know the power of chemistry,It has the tendency of showing off by blowing up before the magician can make a perfect landing
Especially when the story was left on a good note
subliminally,
He invaded my castle
killed my guards and two pit bulls got into my fortress
sat on my throne and felt home
only if you knew what it does to me
That you too can establish communication that is no where to be seen
It breaks my ego in what can be put together again
only if you knew
what I would give to have the ability to snatch his contact numbers off your mind
you can look me in the eye
Serenade me with what you have to say with your mouth but its your eyes that I am looking for
windows to your soul my love
I wish you knew
how beating your life because your heart is deformed can have an impact in your trust
The trust our names put together rhymes with
Subliminally
Are we really that strong?
are we aware of the vulnerabilities that are there to parish us off
Maybe just maybe
I am reading to much into a dream
could the feeling be mutual ?