Long Resistance Poems
Long Resistance Poems. Below are the most popular long Resistance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Resistance poems by poem length and keyword.
its a kilt and not a quilt we are free dangling souls
not out of kilter for we value balance and freedom
there is no hidden agenda as we battle opposition
with harmony and steadfast equilibrium let loose
left right left right we march on belligerent fields
careful not to have the kilt pin pierce our pride
in case of too much passion we hide any sense
of arousal although war is an emotional business
dressed in sporran and fastening strapping we fight
for our women children and fierce independence
we tread through mountains valleys and thistles
prick resistance and domination right where it hurts
swords lances and crossbows spill justice’s seeds
maces and tribuchets defend rightful possessions
caltrop and quick lime disperse our enemy’s lines
cull sculls and bones of our foes and burn with desire
today it is the ballot box and rugby pitches on which
we stake our claim where we score tries and convert
stand up to history’s decline and conquer intolerance
and the Tartan Armies march on in elevated disguise
02nd March 2021
Bursts Of Creativity...
Asper myself tend
to occur late at night,
or early morn 'o follow
wing day unbeknownst
despite acute insight
how, when, where, why...
ideas swarm and bite
inspiration doth alight
try as I might to
coax, anchor right,
burning candlebox at
both ends during midnight
oil, and pry open hermetically airtight
noggin, where my poetic
(side) juices glommed up tight
blew silly blackened, and barbed
as though cold anthracite
ash coal lest futile effort
fueling mental cogs synaps (snaps),
sans each axon and dendrite,
and damn pinwheeling frenzied
writer's block won't budge,
no matter intense aghast fright
regarding drawing nothing,
but blank screen, an unpleasant sight
which activates greater fright
concentration stoppers appetite
to satiate agile literary skill
invoked with all mum might
encountering severe
resistance along well worn
nicked, pitted, rutted...
central processing unit abysmal sight
core cratered tracks analogous trite
other places blasted as if by dynamite
nanobot size infrastructure blight
hmm... huff frayed
to admit fifty plus shades
of grey pock marked beltway abustle
with at least bajillion
self important cosmopolite
avast friggin buzzfeed contrasted with bevy
of heavily rowdy, yet polite
sumo wrestlers exuding
spongy dimpled cellulite,
nonetheless grueling effort experienced
with craven half starved diabolical spite
undermining, jackknifing,
dogging... literary endeavor to expedite
satisfactory pièce de résistance flight
of fancy, though challenged
every step of the way,
once ambition fired up...at twilight
as mortal passion
unstoppable to complete
crafting daily poem
kindled with emotional lignite!
The Tiger Between Us
Maybe she knows how big my heart is when no one counts the distance anymore,
How this cosmic muscle stretched all the way to her, like a fate choosing a wound,
My love for her is like a boat lost on an ocean without eternal margins,
And in this boat lives a tiger—the distance that breathes without roaring.
It doesn't attack me with fangs, just inhales in silence reminding me perpetually
How far away she is and how close her absence remains like a phantom,
Sometimes I think it guards me, other times I know for sure it locks me in a cage,
I row with burned skin, with trembling hands, with hunger sculpted in my bones.
Thirst is written on my lips like a psychedelic mantra that never erases,
Still I move forward—distance, even as a wild beast, still allows the journey,
I believed for entire centuries that she was waiting for me beyond this blue water,
A shore, an end, an answer—but the ocean taught me what my eyes refused.
There is no other side—she's not standing beyond waiting with open arms,
She is the ocean itself, the magical depth where I melt in liquid waves,
When I understood this, the struggle changed its meaning like a hypnotic spiral,
I no longer chase dry land—I surrender to the depths, become part of salt water.
The more I accept that she is the living ocean that swallows me tenderly,
The more I dissolve inside her—the tiger of distance weakens hungrily,
One day it will die in silence, starved by my total surrender without resistance,
And I will disappear—not body, not name—but separate existence that evaporates.
I will never touch her—I will become her, ocean and waltz and breath,
What remains of me will no longer know where I end and where she begins,
Psychedelic fusion of consciousnesses melted in the marine depth of infinite love,
The tiger between us dies when I understand—distance is illusion, we are one.
The big gate swings both ways.
Ponderous and slow, with
Children hanging from it.
High enough at posts end
For kids to scramble under,
Entering the farmer’s field
Where brown and white cows
graze lazily among yellow-bright dandelions
impervious to their dwindling hours.
They perch near the post,
Dragging one foot across the ground,
Feeling resistance as they swing across
The distance of each moment;
Out there in the middle, the gate swings low;
Close to the ground where it fans the flies off cow paddies.
The children swing with all their weight,
Drawing lines across a caked mud road;
The metal gate is painted white,
With brown age spots of rust,
Just as the brown and white cows
Safely kept within the field.
The children leap from one gate to the other,
Always reaching for another gate to swing on.
They swing so freely into the smiling face
Of their summer God, unaware,
That one day they will swing
On gates that are made of pearl.
Through you I seek to know:
What happened once below?
You ferns of resistance, I see you
Mixing it upward with
A firm stance.
(Such steely green weeds
Do smirk indeed
Above the empty path of horizon’s eye,
Blackened to nowhere).
What, though, do I see in you?
(A path lies vacant and wanting,
A land once named upon a dream;
A barren place now daunting,
Neglected and unseen).
Where is your truth?
(Does it rest within your clumsy bud’s dance
With a tertiary sky,
Or a raucous from your stem’s windward need
To lead)?
Oh No.
I do believe:
It is your roots of defiance!
To know Home in no shame;
To forge through scarred soil with no blame!
Such courage you have:
To reap the shifting tar of fickle men,
And safely hasten away
From the notion of never again!
(Thirty some years have stood and fell
Yet…
Your quiet presence lives to tell
This hell,
Once known,
As Love’s canal).
Oh eager green,
I wish you well.
A Nation, wearied, sapped traumatized.
This vast exotic land, fringed by lush emerald jungles
A spark rising from the west, once looked upon by all,
A giant?
No, faded glory.
Vistas of burning star and torrential rivers
Once revered, now a derelict of crumbled epitaph
Africa, This burden weighs heavily on your brow,
These monsters slow the speed of your growth,
Stunted by greed,
raped by men,
is this a country?
where profligate band of men overtaken by fraud and moral turpitude,
Where gangsters and criminals reconvene every four years to loot.
Lords over conquered Lilliputians
Their mission obvious,
their strategies similar,
their inducement a bribe.
Lewd lords, banished the reputation of the ancestors,
Greedy goons imposed themselves as godfathers
The urchins in Lagos to the desert of almajiris of Kano
From cult cloned rivers to the borders around the Delta
Felons, fit for prison makes the rules,
And the people so docile watch a drama of an unending bondage
No resistance?
Where are their men?
To stay the impending doom of the unborn innocent citizens
There are no heroes yet, they never let them live,
A nation, where criminals becomes governors,
Bandits as senators
And a never-ending interest from dullards to rule a people.
And four-year’s tenure makes rascals twice richer as the masses beg for sustenance
Mobilized by kingpins, barons and bandits once decorated with honor
There are no heroes here, they never let them live,
monsters fit for jail order this path for their greed.
A people battered by long years of oppression
What a nation! Countries of Africa be not like this,
Mocking an incomplete incubation from colonial oppression
Sending their offspring to a second beggarly bow to slavery,
Oppressed by wicked mere mortals gathering dust as riches
Yet in the same country
Many races live there,
The Proud,
The fierce,
The warlike
And Yet unable to break free from subjugation from their new tyrants
Rainbow suave sky soars the aliferous,
swarms as life bores a chance of existence,
so the geckos take without resistance,
for there are those who find them delicious.
They're unorganized, but there are plenty,
great variety hails many choices,
of shades, tints, hues, much to share, tiny moists'
plus small, big, quick, stealth, and there's shadowy.
Intriguingly, there are guides for caring,
them itsy, creeps, bitsy, crawling critters!
Confidence too close for comfort, --jitters!
Neighbors donned smiles, objectively sharing.
Save for a few pets, that's very lucky,
most times people just see them as yucky.
September 14 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Mark 1-3
Key Verse – Mark 1:1 The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY LIFE’S BEGINNING
Lord God, You are my life’s Beginning,
and You prepared me for Your way
Thank You for Your voice, calling me to walk in Your paths’ straight way
How wonderful is Your forgiveness for my sins which You did say
By Your blood’s power to allow me in Your kingdom to stay.
Lord God, You are my life’s Beginning,
and You invited me to come after You willingly
Thank You for Your love, moving me to follow You obediently
How great is Your authority for my servanthood undoubtedly
By Your sovereignty’s leadership to make me labour for You wholeheartedly.
Lord God, You are my life’s Beginning,
and You healed me of my iniquities’ sickness
Thank You for Your mercy, enabling me to depart from wickedness
How amazing is Your compassion that touches my brokenness
By Your holiness cleansing me from filthiness of worldliness.
Lord God, You are my life’s Beginning,
and You received me to Your service-nest
Thank You for Your command, urging me to dedicate to give my fullest
How glorious is Your way of fashioning me toward perfection’s zest
By Your conversion to which I resort along Your teaching so best.
Lord God, You are my life’s Beginning,
and You made me whole toward godly repentance
Thank You for Your grace, filling me with Your joy’s acceptance
How sweet is Your fellowship that plucks me out from carnal resistance
By Your kindness around lawful standards’ assistance.
Lord God, You are my life’s Beginning,
and You restored me from withering spirituality
Thank You for Your peace, melting me of heart’s hardness and insensitivity
How timely is Your counsel for my conviction’s stability
By Your revival along Your truth’s certainty.
Lord God, You are my life’s Beginning,
and You surnamed me as Your child
Thank You for Your adoption, laying hold on me from being hell-defiled
How firm is Your strength that defeats my condemnation state, so wild
By Your care to establish me in Your will, and within be freely exiled.
September 14, 2023
When my muse ruled
my conscience's compass,
waterfalls of rhyming rivers
revealed unspoken secrets -
long forgotten in my heart.
Exposing vulnerable verses
from vaults where vines
had wrapped my tongue
into subdued silence.
In the Injustices of
judicial juxtaposition,
speech spoke in a
paradoxical oxymoron -
'deafening silence'
Pouring in drops of crimson,
I became a convicted cliché,
taken hostage in a
Machiavellian marketplace,
where I felt illiterate - harassed,
by insidious guards and
anapestic gangsters.
In the personification
of confinement,
where word weavers
are poetically unapologetic,
virtual villains ventured
to plagiarize my vocabulary.
An enjambment of envious
eyes attempted to burn
my anthology of alliterations,
so I buried each chapter
in a communal garden,
under a galaxy of ghazals,
hoping pantoum petals,
would bloom in scarlet
stanzas with sophisticated
syllables of rhythmic refrains.
Agitated by
artificial assonance,
my artistry is an
analogy of angst,
where cathartic couplets
of consistent consonance
care not for iambic ideologies.
My elusive elegy is the
legacy of my resistance,
as in my melancholy,
I'll forever be a
misunderstood metaphor.
Silencing intrusive ink,
to prevent another massacre.
With no concern for applause,
I've removed the
garlands of sakura chains.
For I'm no longer a
prisoner of poetry,
but my muse's musk
still remains....
Loving life hid beneath rim of cool ceramic bowl
Tree frog claimed proud place, toilet's homely hole
Enamoured by his simple palace making stance
I bend to peer at his green grip toe stick, entranced
My ordinary admonished by gaze from onxyx eyes
Quick reflex and instinct, skills by which Frog relies
Shine of black marble smartness lures me nearer
Knowing even with my bulk, I'm somehow inferior
Rubber eyelid winks, peels open again enlarged
Eye wrinkles droop to hammock, I'm encouraged
To nestle within humid folds, shrunk human glued
Oscillated in his lid lures languishing duly procured
Spun suddenly, rubbery cocoon cosy lurches erratic
Some worry occurs I'll drown outside skin hammock
Prior to paranoia taking over, thrown from dizzying ride
Launched into stark big bowl with steep slippery sides
Swim in cistern spew strangely renders me cleansed
Lap in lurid blue sends me to inevitably to S bends
Whooshed and flushed with refreshed perspective
Dark harassed by diffused hues tug seductive
Dolphin derived, my smooth unphased by spiralling
Saturated zones, ease honed, enamour never tiring
Snorkel hole snorts water, puffs readily on its purification
Imbibing combines giddy with clarity, senses' temptation
My forehead flicked flirtatiously by wide flamingo flippers
Splayed feathers fan surface, showcase dance floor shimmer
Cabaret her costume, shakes crystal bead rainbow release
Ravishing precise pirouettes prim pink princess completes
Her curved beak caresses my porthole brain, rubs insistantly
Into warm walnut shell weapon I'm swallowed quite quickly
I spy through pomegranate seed eye, mirror lake unswayed
Stilled kindly by wind's nonexistance, decision to travel made
Climbed to bird's tiny tiara topped crest, covered in feathers
Graceful lace tu- tu floats my aquatic future endeavour
Bouyed weightless and grateful, flip draws no resistance
Swim in S bend treasure, trip of sight resumed brilliance
*** Spring has sprung!!
- in Australia
My branch beyond
The tired pond
of Earth, awakes
Imminent Heaven
(perhaps)
*** A collapse of facts
Flight of flamingo regalia
Revel in place of waste
- Mystery flush takes
on its S bend
1st September 2020