Long Resignation Poems
Long Resignation Poems. Below are the most popular long Resignation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Resignation poems by poem length and keyword.
Now, life has almost passed us by,
and peaceful resignation reigns;
the beach, a spawning ground of old,
shrieks mournfully in sea gull tones.
The neap tide’s come to lull the shore;
crab moltings own the water’s edge.
Forewarned, am I, of nature’s course
in grains of gray and casings banked.
Now hand in hand, we lovers walk-on;
each throbbing with the pull of tide.
We sink in sands both wet and warm
soothed by the skies now overcast.
As faithful as the moon on high,
between the water lines, they spawn;
in estuaries at peace, they nest;
eggs as small as grains of sand.
Will you come when the moon is round
and leave your molted shell beside me?
Will you sense the celestial call
or let the scavengers find me?
First Published by Page and Spine
January 20 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Exodus 7-9
Key Verse – Exodus 7:17 Thus saith the LORD, In this thou shalt know that I am the LORD…
PRAISE BE TO GOD WHO MAKES US KNOW THAT HE IS THE LORD
Praise be to God for making us know that He is the Lord Who:
Stretches His hand of power
Shows miracles with His providence
Settles hearts for service along His peace
Strengthens faith with His protection
Satisfies souls by His provisions
Secures spirituality by His presence
Suffices contentment with His answers to prayer
Exodus 8:1; 9:1 Praise be to the Lord for inviting us to serve HIM without:
Refusal, but willingness and obedience
Regret, since He deserves the best
Reservation, as He wants our all
Returning to the past that He has re-created
Retort, for His leadership is perfect
Resignation because He assures eternal rewards
Exodus 9:5 Praise be to the Saviour for appointing
a set time by His sovereign schedule of:
Salvation midst His gift of everlasting life
Service along stewardship pursuits
Separation and severing toward holiness
Sanctification with purging or purification from filthiness
Standing up for the truth
Supplication-response
Second coming that sets forever worship of believers. Amen!
January 20, 2024
Little did I realise when I swung
Into the car park at Calder Glen
That by the end of that week in August 2009
My days of teaching would be over.
It all began so well
Meeting an old colleague right at the start
Archie ,a jovial bon vivant
From an earlier placement.
No fault could I find with the well disciplined pupils
Hanging attentively upon every word
Or giving the impression of doing so.
No, the fault lay within me.
My outer self sounded the same
Inwardly the elan had flattened
And I felt my energy draining away
With every lesson and every class.
Was this imposter syndrome?
Or maybe it was the way footballers
Experienced that their time in the game
Was finally over, spent and burnt out.
By the time Friday of that week came
I just knew that I had taught my last lesson.
Just before I went to the office
To let them know I would not
Be returning, I was buttonholed
By an assistant head
Who regaled me with the kind words
Archie had said about me
And requested my return.
It was not easy to tell him
That I no longer felt up
To the demands of the job
And that I felt like a race horse
Which had just run its last race
And was longing to be sent
Out to pasture
In its own sweet way.
When you’re sucker-punched with frustration
and can’t find a cause for elation,
when you’re unsuccessful
and life’s super stressful,
you surely will feel perturbation.
When you face severe provocation
and fear that there’s no mitigation
for hard knocks life’s sending;
you’re breaking, not bending.
You seek means of self-preservation.
You may sometimes feel the temptation
to cave to complete trepidation.
Don’t yield, I beseech you.
The light may soon reach you
if your mindset’s not resignation.
*******************************
When life is a race I’m not winning,
my foundation needs underpinning.
Time spent softly praying
does help heal my fraying
nerves—fragile from all that head-spinning!
written and posted October 5, 2016
Resignation leaves.
Then inside his room he grieves
sitting on a little chair wearing just his underwear.
Resistance says, “No way!
Never will I go away.”
He is like a bloody hound so stubbornly he stays around!
Resignation throws his hands
in the air, makes no demands.
See him give a little shrug. Someone give that guy a hug!
Resistance has great staying power -
from sun-up till the midnight hour.
He’s water at a constant boil, the “squeaking wheel” that gets the oil!
Resignation’s sure to quit.
Inside his chair he sits and sits.
Resistance, the annoying critter! He at least is no quitter!
Written October 5, 2016
For the Resignation Contest of Nayda Ivette Negron
Now revised for Skat's the 'Premiere Contest NUMBER 15' Poetry Contest
Under the velvet sky of night, where stars weave their magical web,
my thoughts flow like a silent river through the dark forest of the mind,
carrying with them the shadows and lights of lost and rediscovered dreams.
I wonder, in the silence that envelops everything, if freedom is just an echo
of voices frozen in time, lost in the boundless abysses of consciousness.
In a world where opinions are fragile flowers in the constrained garden of reason,
and debate is a dancer chained by its own movements,
we move like puppets on the stages of an invisible theater,
believing we are free, yet bound by the invisible strings of a sublime control.
Criticism becomes a siren's song, drawing us into the whirlpool of illusion,
and dissent, a glass illusion, shining in the false light of a feigned freedom.
I imagine how our thoughts tumble like stones down a steep slope,
hitting the narrow edges of the acceptable, ever narrower, ever colder.
There, in that tight perimeter, revolts and hopes are born,
but they are merely pale flames, extinguishing the moment they touch the imposed threshold.
Deep within me, an unbounded longing weeps for unpolished truths,
for free thoughts to soar like birds in the endless sky,
but I always wake up within the same invisible boundaries, a circle of fire and ice,
where each step is a compromise, a renunciation, a silent resignation.
And yet, in this melancholic night, under the velvet sky,
the dream of freedom finds its way, like a ray of light through heavy clouds,
and I wonder if perhaps, even within these limits, there is hope,
a hope that one day, we will break the invisible chains and fly,
in a fearless dance of free, unrestrained, infinite thoughts.
With everyday under protected skies,
we come across some traitors lives.
Promised solution to all complexes,
riches beyond faint heart perplexes.
Adoration by fame benediction,
bargains without guilt affliction.
The patriot and his free ticket vote,
righteousness that need some promote.
Fees for the clamorous priest,
words of comfort in the least.
Stones and graves as memorandum,
dust to dust and its bleeding phantom.
Bubbles to buy in ounces of gold,
it’s the story as package to be sold.
The price to know God for asking,
resuming whole souls tasking.
Imitation of immortality without death,
lyrics and rhymes already in breath.
Scientific prophesies as politic conclusion,
sweetest moments of delusion.
Medias senses of what is right in time,
feeding the truth through a costly plastic frame.
Enslaving oneself by far more credit,
for the children to know its inherit.
The dying dream with its inspiration,
ceased moments lost in translation.
The placid and self contained condition,
takes forms in transparent definition.
As term-less feast of our content,
souls are more then body meant.
Wasted time in displeased self-assertion,
no values after deeds in resignation.
The greatest tragedy of the world in confusion,
the lack of awareness in spiritual evolution.
There is a rebel -guy hiding somewhere
down deep within your fleeting heart;
a snake- charmer of broken promises
who rushes off and pierces my veins.
Although honey-coated words are gone
to waste inside your impulsive mind,
I’m quick to forget after the ache
since the challenge to tame you
has become a quest, a dare: but now,
my heart resigns from mazes of your puzzle .
I whine for luck, burying myself in such games
only to slowly understand the difference
between wisdom and foolishness: and life
changes, my runaway guy, when your tease
no longer entices a chase...
like so, this raw deal is irrevocably terminated!
Nayda Ivette Negron's Resignation Contest
10/6/2016
Look Nigel, Boris and Dave are all climbing out of the cave
No longer keen to be an MP - they’d rather freak-out at a rave!
The Commons have driven them sickly
So they’re clearing their desks rather quickly
With no thought for Rishi,
Their hasty escape looks quite fishy.
Well, why would they sit on a bench, in a House with an unpleasant stench?
They recall when an MP had status, but are hardly believed when they hate us. (Nadine, Nadine, Nadine, Nadine, please don’t join them just because you can)
The good people of Uxbridge or Frome
Seem contented if these chaps stay home -
They might be tired of dull conference speeches
And prefer to spend time on the beaches;
Remote from those eager young aides, they’ll draw lines in the sand with their spades;
When life gets remarkably tough, their choice looks straightforward enough.
As member for Selby in Yorks, Nigel Adams was wont to give talks,
For a gentleman focused on fracking his awareness was possibly lacking.
However for Tories he has lost his thirst, so his family’s future came first. Now, the battle to be his successor
Is intense, just ask any professor,
And so candidates now set their sails,
As they roam through the picturesque Dales.
Allegations might well get bitter, especially on WhatsApp or Twitter!
Our supply-chains are creaking in places,
Not helped by glum Brexiteer faces,
So let’s hope the new intake is firm,
For we’re tired of those members who squirm.
(We don’t need boot-lickers, aloof city-slickers, or chancers who won’t last one term)
And regardless of their party badge, we won’t welcome chaps on-the-cadge,
Don’t you fiddle expenses or abandon your senses!
So let’s hope that turnout is high,
As we bid Nigel and BoJo goodbye.
Prime Minister’s Question Time
That Wednesday morning farce
That starts with the sycophants
Verbally kissing the Premier’s ****,
Followed by the Opposition Leader
Who begs and implores
Answers to his questions
Which the Prime Minister ignores,.
To indulge in propaganda
And very personal attack
When the Opposition Leader
Vey quickly bites back.
Those present in the House
All bay, yell and scream like fools
In way that would bring exclusion
From most decent primary schools.
Democracy in action
There for all to see
The Parliamentary equivalent
Of the The Goon Show on TV
Prime Minister’s Question Time
A misnomer indeed
Behaviour more fitting those
High on skunk, roofies or weed.
A most unedifying spectacle
But thats just how it looks
When any nation is led by
Hypocrites, spivs and crooks.
The honourable resignation
A thing of the long long past
As those in power cling on
Until the very very last.
And loyalty is rewarded,
When the opportunity affords,
By the lifetime sinecure of
A seat in the House of Lords.
We treat politicians with deference
In a manner that confounds
Forgetting they work for us
And not the other way around.