Long Reprieve Poems
Long Reprieve Poems. Below are the most popular long Reprieve by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reprieve poems by poem length and keyword.
Snow gathered momentum to a chorus of confusion
Echoes of tortuous silence
A vacuum of restless reprieve
Like moist drift sand it spread its treacherous message
Opened trap doors of innocence
Coalesced sinkhole’s dredged mud
Answering unspoken questions it decanted crystals of pain
Touched sentient clouds in transit
Sounded fog horns in distant mist
Before spring melted its steadfast grip on a slippery path
Night fell onto wild thunderous icicles for
Shadows beginnings and irretrievable end
Under cover of ice in the underworld of impermanent frost
The journey man brushed defeat
In cold blood’s sad circular flow
Endless void refused to halt rock bottom’s crushing arrest
Torched dreams once light faded
Shed darkness oblivion and surrender
Snow boots and shoe strings draped a noose of relief
Suffocation took one ultimate breath
Embraced nothingness and final demise
And yet the midnight sun sent just one single glimmering ray
A threadbare rope ladder of shivering hope to guide
Him to remove the pick axe from a lost mindless brain
A comet sparked fire from rage and ember from blizzards
The moon croaked on its mocking laughter’s disguise
For an avalanche had protected a glimpse of his soul
22nd January 2020
Father, my insides are vomiting.
It’s quailing all my strength, to not split into insanity.
This does not want to leave,
But please, come here and reprieve.
Whatever it is, let it all fall out,
And replace it with Thy love’s unending amount.
Christ please, get into me, and work Thy healing.
Take this heart, mind and voice, and let them sing!
The demons want all parts of me,
But I must now in haste, be set free.
I can’t bear these burdens anymore,
So please, bury them on the ocean’s floor.
My sweet child, we will work in you a good while,
For it takes some time to undo utter revile.
Your spirit is like the purest refined gold,
But your earthly flesh has grown old, like rotten mold.
We will now neutralize your body’s ill cravings,
By separating you, as resurrection from a grave.
Your fulfillment will come as My prophesy,
To revive all those likewise lost in misery.
You are not lost, this is all part of the cost.
Be of strong faith and a good courage,
For your fall is part of it all, and you shall be washed.
You must learn to crawl, and be encouraged.
This test will surely make you your best,
As you always remember, you are beloved and blest.
God has a plan, for you are His lovely child.
Remember His love for you, is ever pure and mild.
Facing thought onslaught,
lower mind begot,
we struggle and grieve
but get no reprieve.
Our desire thought's cause,
which we put on pause,
choosing to be still,
that voids within fill.
Body has it's need,
so dark desires breed
propelled by ego,
we're loathe to forgo.
Moments of silence,
sans thought violence
are when joy seeps in,
pulsating within.
We remain alive
and in-form nodes jive,
more so when thoughts cease,
in a blissful sneeze.
We are in a fog
since tail wags the dog.
Thought's an instrument
needing improvement.
Tapping higher mind,
rid of ego's bind,
in divine embrace,
we imbibe God's grace.
Silence is the key
for us to be free
of desire and fear,
as thought forms that sear.
Thus by letting go,
in staid stillness slow,
we become the flame
that carries no name.
07-September-2022
I blinding light would fill up the night,
Knew not when the morrow began,
A beautiful sight filled with delicious delight,
A reprieve that could liberate man.
Devotion and love but when push came to shove,
False and dishonest, the man was debased,
When off came the glove she was completely free of,
Responsibility and promise, about-faced.
Despite all his fears he would still love for years,
Full of hope and of hurt and of pride,
Bereft of tears until he lost count of beers,
As the popped corks would expose what's inside.
It was not his first in fact even worse,
This happened over and over again,
From the empty to the burst, as if he was cursed,
With complete inability to gather refrain.
The mirror would show that the man would still grow,
But inside was getting smaller and withered,
His heart now slow no more chances to blow,
What raced before became merely a slither.
It did not set him free this inability,
First was forced then would gladly accept,
But the adept could see exposed fragility,
A metaphoric carpet lifted then under swept.
Now wrinkled and grey with no yesterday,
Worth giving any kind of thought,
His body will stay while his mind's parting ways,
Now the love he is after can be bought.
I watched this old man but did not understand,
His mumbles and rants began my head start,
It is not my plan, to have my hopes and dreams canned,
I think that was when I closed my heart.
In the shadows, beneath the darkness
Hides a whisper of silent heartbreak
Reflecting mourning that rises within
Where there is little more than a breath
Of melancholy that persuades my spirit
To listen to the music echoing inside
As I dance to the colors of God’s verses
Ending the pain, the sorrow and grief
The longing for a moment of reprieve
In the silhouette of a happy hope
Lingers a feeling of joy so tantalizing
It mirrors the grace found in the soul
Who knows that their worth is realized
In their relationship with God above
The One who gives the answer to all
The prayers they have spoken to Him
With the assurance that He will bring
Answers that color the heart in relief
In the hues of sapphire faith and grace
There lives a million moments of longing
For the chance to reach out to someone
With inspiration, encouragement, assurance
That the light of love lingers on in the one
Who listens to the scripture’s blessings
And smiles with a hint of peace and fulfillment
Found inside the heart and soul of those
Who know God is always in control of it all
In the light, beneath the glowing insight
Shrouds a sense of reassurance that comes
From knowing that there is wisdom and strength
In the kindness that God gives His children
There is sincerity and warmth within the one
Who carries the Word to those who need to know
God is alive… He thrives and survives
Every loss, each problem, every difficulty
He lives to give His children the gift of true love
When he went away, leaving her that day,
She thought her heart would betray…
The way it hurt, the way she wanted him to stay.
When love meant to last all lifelong, like a song,
Joyful and full, then lost in the dark, so wrong,
Leaving her alone and afraid, after he’d strung her along.
When doubts filled her up, after their breakup,
She felt like she’d fallen and would never getup,
Like she’d collapsed and so needed a pick-me-up.
When he ended what they had, it was just so sad,
Like she’d lost the best there was, all the glad,
While life moved on, she was lost, nearly mad.
When time passed, though, her heart would outlast,
All the pain and grief, finding solace at long last,
With the knowledge that her healing would holdfast.
When life beats you down, remember you won’t drown,
In the faded waters of defeat, the darkness all around…
You will find your reprieve after the heart’s meltdown.
When heartbreak has had her say, all you can do is pray,
For the time when love comes back to you, to stay…
Washing away the tears with a light that won’t fadeaway.
Part 3: AT HEAVEN’S GATES
To set Her free from destiny was far from my design,
but, though unplanned, I touched Her hand to give Her peace of mind.
She told me then, and then again, that providence Divine
had cast a curse, and even worse: despised by all mankind,
She walked alone, unseen, unknown, Her soul incarnadine.
To break this spell of living hell, of loneliness enshrined,
and end Her days within the haze, a sole redeeming deed
would give reprieve and maybe leave our destinies entwined -
Her final quest be put to rest if only I agreed,
but no surcease nor perfect peace nor hope if I declined.
The shadows, shawled in silence, crawled, the night Her fate was sealed
as vespers tolled across the wold beneath the muted fog.
The heavens cracked and sorrow slacked as chimes of children pealed
while in the hills (where midnight chills) there wailed a daemon dog -
with no delay I lead the way, the path to Potter’s Field.
Her weathered face was lined with Grace, Her eyes shone emerald green.
With me as guide She stepped inside to grieve and mourn Her loss,
and thereupon, though pale and wan, the night took on a sheen.
With weary eyes as Her disguise, She placed a wooden cross
upon a mound (unhallowed ground) and whispered ‘Sibylline...’.
A falling star flared in the far and burst, a bolide flame -
beneath the light, the Final Rite no longer hid undone.
And kneeling there in silent prayer, we seemed to share the shame
but could atone if left alone, forevermore as one.
Before we both could breathe an oath, I asked Her once Her name.
Through lips, pale red, She simply said ‘Some called me Abigail’,
and neath a birch where white doves perch, I took Her for my bride,
beheld Her smile a little while, but all to no avail...
Her cloak and cape, and shrivelled shape lie empty at my side...
for now She waits at Heaven’s Gates, not far beyond the Pale.
Take a look what’s before you, a look all around,
this city of people with lives crumbling down.
Take a moment to listen, a moment to stare,
a moment in silence and see if you care.
From the window I’ve looked out and done this same thing,
and for a brief time it was inspiring,
but the day called me back for my ways were off track
though I made a note “Pray when there’s time”.
Well, I’m sad to admit that it took quite a bit
before I remembered that line.
But I found it one day, so I knelt down to pray
and I spoke what came first to my mind
which was, “God send down angels. They’re needed you see”,
then I rose up, for I was behind.
Now I fully believed God would send down reprieve,
so of course, I was shocked when by chance
I happened to gaze from my window above
at the city and its circumstance.
“Oh how could this be! Things are worse than before.”
Perplexed by this finding I turned to the Lord,
and I prayed knowing well that his ear he would lend,
“God where are the angels I asked you to send?”
“The people, they need them! They’re starving, they fail!”
“They’re cold, they are homeless! They’re sick and they’re pale!”
Then it came like a breeze in the midst of my pleas -
t’was a whisper that cut to the core -
“I already have angels who look from above
through their windows and simply ignore.”
“Though I’ve given them all, they do stammer and stall
as they tend to their lives and their trade,
and few of them ever give much time to think
what a difference each one could have made.”
Then I sank in my chair with my hands in my hair,
for the weight of this thought pierced my heart.
When I rose, I resolved from that time I would try
to go out and act the angel’s part.
Take a look what’s before you, a look all around.
This city of people with lives crumbling down.
So many who walk to the beat of life’s drum.
So many who pray for an angel to come,
but none will they have til one answers their plea…
so come down from the window, an angel you’ll be.
A light flickers to start the chain & a spark is born
that grows to flame
It was conceived to break the chains that plague
the line & bring the rain
The family trees full of sour fruit have tried in vain
to stay the course
The forest fire will sweep the land & burrow deep
to uproot the source
It's not a sport nor harmless game but a serious
matter kept close to chest
If they haven't studied, they soon will learn that the
righteous fruit has mastered chess
The truth in jest is a funny jab when you've learned
the art of bob & weave
Generations have suffered from punchlines that cross
the line for the sake of greed
There's no reprieve for bad apples in crab barrels
that spoil the lot
The strong branches that persevere will continue to
grow & foil plots
Hurriedly enroute to her royal majesty
porcelain goddess throne
whereupon earlier today
March 28th, 2022,
after incomplete defecation
sitting pretty on pissoir,
I jiggled and wiggled posterior
(analogous to performing
the bum bared hustle)
until gasping for breath
though unable to shake loose
dangling dingleberry yours truly
nevertheless synchronously praise zing
a mostly functioning sphincter muscle.
Gross and smelly
as human excrement considered
expelling fecal matter comprises
important function, whereby any unspent
ingested material shunted
thru alimentary canal
then spewed courtesy sphincter vent.
**** lies zing constipation
and/or stubborn stuck drek
nothing to poo poo about,
cuz when bedeviled by
colorectal obstruction,
no matter emetics
applied with bonafide clout
without wasted doubt,
that malodorous, maleficent
malevolent malady
body electric doth flout
analogous to uranus
clogged with grout,
whereat no heroic
efforts break loose,
the severely obstructed bowel,
thus spurring determined,
desperate derriere plea
for proctologist sought
to relieve constipation
equipped with a special
"J" shaped, hooked,
and designed dowel
in an effort
to pry stoppage
if/when yours truly constipated
jamming up human cloaca,
where rock solid stubborn
immovable turd emits foul
gaseous emanations accompanied
with a$$ a nine growl
followed by red hot,
fiery excruciating spasms
shooting jagged pain
inducing yours truly to access,
the werewolf within howl,
where a preference for sciatica,
in place, but my ill luck
regarding aforementioned plight
merely naming said nerve pain
accursed affliction arises
analogous to parasite malefactor thieve
ving would be
equally unpleasant and offer
absolutely zero reprieve
along heinie kin cheeky jowl,
thence finding me
resorting to peeve
hush scream therapy,
which wrought nothing,
no pain did re: leave
me bummed out bum,
but veins snapping,
popping, and crackling,
utmost effort I forcefully heave
oye how aye did grieve
plus a bajillion
gallons of perspiration,
while lower gastrointestinal
agonizing torture didst cleave
entire abdominal
area please believe
without aforementioned crisis,
and feeble poem,
I could not achieve.