Long Restrained Poems

Long Restrained Poems. Below are the most popular long Restrained by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Restrained poems by poem length and keyword.


Loose Change

I have known and walked the right path
But now I’m in chains
I’m restrained
My soul is in captivity
My days consist of drug-induced activity
To know and not do is insanity
I watch my life pass before me
It's vanity.

I know the Truth
It’s right in front of me
But to grasp Its’ power
I find none of my own

I am not proud that I blow clouds
 I’m living in a daze
I sit in smoke filled rooms
It’s like being lost in a maze

Like coins in my pocket
I spend my life on menial things
I live like loose change
Sadness is what it brings
What will I have to show for the life I’ve spent
My time is lent
I do not own it

My world is small
Each day is predictable
My addictions runs deep
I think it’s despicable
But I stopped resisting
Now I’m merely existing
And I watch my life fade away

The struggle is real
Many layers i need to peel
Oh that I would be free
I want to spread my wings
Fly like an eagle
So strong and so regal
I want to reach heights beyond my limits
Soar on the wings of His power
Hour by hour
Ascending higher
Becoming stronger
Redeeming the time
Live a little longer
And trust in the One who knows me

I want to make wise choices
Drown out those voices
That have controlled my thinking for too long
I want to belong
Sing a new song
Right all my wrongs
While I yet have my breath

I want to go the distance
Finish the race set before me
Overcome the odds that are clearly against me
And reach my destiny
Until Heaven becomes my home

I want these chains broken
And my enemies choking
From words of Truth I proclaim
Achieve victory in His name
Live for His glory
Be powerful proclaiming His story
Witness other prisoners become free
That they too may spend the remainder of their loose change
Serving others
Being sisters and brothers
Until the sand in the hourglass runs dry
And true life for us all begins

I want out of this pit
Stretch my arms
Reach for the sun
With hundreds of children beside me
All the new believers born from my obedience
To learn from my experience
Its expedient

But as of now
I'm like a dripping faucet
My life is leaking
One drop at a time
Loose change
Spending nickels
Spending dimes
Less and less with each passing day
Knowing when the change runs dry
Is the day I depart
A citizen in Heaven at long last
© Mona Ebel  Create an image from this poem.


Tired

Ive lived with stress... that I thought I could handle
I fought death… and lost the battle
I was so battered… but I kept up my resistance
And in my mission, each step toward the finish just...
increased the distance
This is why I begin to end this, fictitious existence 
Every instant I lived, I’d been fenced in…
like convicts in prison - petitioning innocence 
where is my childhood.. even in infancy 
I had dreams of things I shouldn’t think-
money, abuse, and ways to eat cloud my memories
why me? I guess people just hated to like me 
in spite of the bright things I tried to do for society!
I fell to the ground.... they stomped me down lower
Over and over… the same problems held my progress back slower
You don’t understand how it is when I get angry
The rage is remaining but there’s no one here to save me!
Tear-soaked flames run down my eye-sockets 
But time stops it from unlocking 
'cause pain will supposedly pass
pain is like strain- encaging me
enslaving me
please explain... why the insides of my brain refrain to be
restrained from insanity and pain
like rail track lanes for speeding trains
I need to be stopped...
I’ll never be free from this war...
Until death marries me, and life lets me divorce
Form:

Premium Member Blinded By Their Right

Blind ... can be seen to find,
        a mysterious fog ahead,
     restrained by fury without wind,
Hot air born to burst,
        about a front and behind.

    Yet we don't see.


Blind ... can be thought to unwind,
        a coiled raptor snaking below,
     kept to a grassy den, undulations
Travel between a long, slow
        reach and rewind.

    Yet we don't see.


Blind ... can be heard when confined,
        a silent sound etching against
     the shameful soul, growing louder
 By volume, out of control,
         as if designed.

    Yet we don't see.


Blind ... can be tasted when dined,
        a savory dish serving righteousness,
     giving the palate wanton flavor, that
 Was craved and unconfined.

    Yet we couldn't see.


Blind ... can be felt in the mind,
        a hazy recollection that simmers,
     from the flame to consume, the basic
 Sight granted most of a kind.

    Yet we did not see.


And yes, blind ... can be vengeful, if inclined,
        a fearful hatred, often patient,
     even measured, though seldom justified,
 So it yields to a pulpit
        where it's neutered & refined.

    Yet we still won't see.


But blind ... can be removed by mankind,
        a daunting task that's undertaken
     in every home where the human heart
 Resides, as understanding & tolerance
        compel our vision, opined.

Then, we will see the sight for such 
    sore eyes, that now is redefined.

Premium Member The Artist

Self-styled you yell from the lofty roof top,
nobody lends ears but you don’t ever stop.
You pronounce you’ll make a great name
as an artist, in loud voice you do proclaim
so that everybody can hear.

You assert there are multi-colors in your eye,
we all know it's nothing but a pure white lie.
You think you’re born with gene of an artist,
restrained laughter spurts, people can’t resist,
but it doesn’t reach your ear.

You construe your brush has a Monet touch,
your trees stand as clusters of plumb crutch,	
something like water in river is cobalt opaque. 
You can’t even make the semblance of a fake
with the paints you smear.

You gloat you got the modern Picasso flair, 
crude art shapes distort the pallid paint layer, 
formless faces are entangled in web of cubes
as a bizarre pile of squeezed out color tubes,
you collected over the years.

________________

April 15, 2022
Contest : Tall Tales 2
Sponsored by : Jeff Kyser

M9 V2

Arti.fictional iD

" identify "

it's a part that tickles
on the inside

" nine "
materials merging
to form one mind

a dangerous game
well worth the ride

a serpent
bares her eyes...

chaotic straightaway

wings without a butterfly

and the matter... is choice

dark formations
in a singular voice

sights to be seen
and the vanishing
happens
where last you've been

" realities "
revolve to solve
" a paradox "

an elusive equation
leads manifestation
and a possible collision
in degrees of separation


" nothing is mad "
if a matter of inclusion


"...the Core Matters..." are at hand


1 Corinthians 13 on
Love

1If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a ringing gong or a clanging cymbal. 2If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have absolute faith so as to move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3If I give all I possess to the poor and exult in the surrender of my body,a but have not love, I gain nothing.

4Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no account of wrongs. 6Love takes no pleasure in evil, but rejoices in the truth. 7It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

8Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be restrained; where there is knowledge, it will be dismissed. 9For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10but when the perfect comes, the partial passes away.

11When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I set aside childish ways. 12Now we see but a dim reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

13And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love; but the greatest of these is love.

Hebrews 13:1
13 Keep on loving one another as brothers and sisters.
© Izzy Gumbo  Create an image from this poem.


Playing Safe

Suburban mother, neat, ash-blonde, divorced, 
might pause beneath a Bedford bookstore awning, 
then check her list - lasagne, liverwurst ... 
today pilates, Thursday, coffee morning. 

One week is like another, which is fine 
(note on the fridge -- "collect new reading glasses"). 
She'll pass on Starbuck's (have you SEEN the line?) 
The bovine bustle of the middle classes. 

Ten years ago, I struck like Typhoon Trevor, 
intense and strange. Endearments and demands 
brought whiff of chaos. "Picket fences never 
restrained me!"  But I left with empty hands. 

She went for bourgeois bland, for safety's sake, 
and never sees what's churning in her wake.
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Rise Above It

Rise Above It

Her brother, my father, had passed away several months prior.
Though more restrained and kinder, she was strong like my father.
I did not realize a day would come that she’d teach me a life lesson.

Our cow broke loose and ran onto the lawn of a very hateful man.
He spoke bitter words and expressed such vicious emotions.
If my aunt had not appeared, I would have been crushed.

I could not understand the man's energized anger about the actions of the cow. My aunt explained the essence of some people in terms never to be forgotten. Her Christ like response to his rage enabled me to understand the actions of, what seemed to me, a mad man. Realistically, his rage was not  about the cow, but about certain people he hated. Her words are not remembered, but my brain recorded an eternal lesson of life.

My brain recorded the following:
1. You cannot control the actions, the anger, and the hatred of people.
2. You must not allow yourself to accuse yourself of being at fault.
3. It does not mean that you are to think that you are better than they.
4. You must not respond or react in kind, or stoop to their level.
5. But because of who you know yourself to be; and because you
    have been taught a better way, you can indeed rise above them.
06082016  PS Contest, Rise Above It, by Becca Teagan
Form: Narrative

Premium Member HEART THAT FINDS GRACE IN THE EYES OF THE LORD

January 3 Heart for God Bible Meditations Based on Genesis 6-8

Key Verse - Genesis 6:8 But Noah found grace in the eyes of the LORD.

HEART THAT FINDS GRACE IN THE EYES OF THE LORD

For our heart to find grace in the Lord’s eyes is a blessing
Despite our weakness of sinfulness’ cursing
Praise be to God for His salvation of faith-bracing
Making us His children with eternal life possessing.

For our heart to find grace in the Lord’s eyes is a privilege
Despite our flesh-strivings of pride’s knowledge
Praise be to God for righteousness-imputation we acknowledge
Making us His saints with new creation toward heavenly mileage.

For our heart to find grace in the Lord’s eyes is a time of gladness
Despite our selfishness hiding in hypocrisy’s brightness
Praise be to God for His mercy and forgiveness
Making us His converts toward transformation along His holiness.

For our heart to find grace in the Lord’s eyes is a sure victory
Despite our vain cravings and worldly thoughts’ flurry
Praise be to God for His sanctification-glory
Making us His believers following Him, proclaiming His Gospel story.

For our heart to find grace in the Lord’s eyes is a proof of His approval
Despite our failures attributed to enemies hindering our survival
Praise be to God for His power causing our prayer-filled revival
Making us His will-abiders shut in His prevailing love’s upheaval.

For our heart to find grace in the Lord’s eyes is a service-motivation
Despite our unfaithfulness brought by fleshly corruption
Praise be to God for His steadfast compassionate function
Making us His stewards who comply to His instruction.

For our heart to find grace in the Lord’s eyes is a desire of our spirituality
Despite our zeal assuaged, abated and restrained by iniquity
Praise be to God for His wisdom driving us with His Word’s certainy
Making us His worshippers who seek Him along our humility and sincerity.

January 3, 2026

Stranger In Moscow

Such a heavy rain
Where is my mom and dad am 
scared
As I woke I locked my windows
Never having in mind of such 
rain

Cold feet and hands with shocks 
and gloves, with phones 
chatting friends on the couch
The skies are heavy but we 
never felt any weight on, tho 
the wind can blow you away if 
he decides

So much can a blunt do, cuz 
you always think deep. As the 
cool sweet breeze caress your 
mind
No sounds, no noise is heard, 
only the familiar rhythm of the 
rain.

As the lighting and thunders 
introduce there presence 
unannounced
On your own authority 
restrained by the rain, a natural 
rule that you don’t stay outside 
the rain, except the stranger in 
moscow.
Form: ABC

Her

I think of her,
I breathe her,
when I sleep I dream of her,
when I wake I live for her.

I think of her…

Her happiness, her well-being, consumes my thoughts all day and into the night. How to support her and make her feel safe. How to give her a smile instead of a frown. How to bring her joy and laughter, instead of pain and tears of sorrow, and her worries for tomorrow.

I breathe her…

Her whole life, everything and everyone she cares about and all that she loves. All of her thoughts and worries, all her joy and everything that would steal it. Every tear that drops from her eyes, all that she desires and inspires to be, and all of her fears she try’s to hide from me. Her whole life is inhaled into me and exhaled out of me with each breath I take.

I dream of her…

When I sleep, sometimes, I dream a dream of her ever so sweet.
Where everything in this world that’s gone wrong for her is made right, and I try, and try, with all my subconscious might,
never to wake and hold on to this night.

I live for her…

All that she is and all that she will ever be, is now forever a vital part of me.
Everything that happens to her and all that she feels, affects me so profoundly, so deeply it does. Whenever she cries it’s her tears that fall from my eyes. When she hurts and it’s her heart that’s aching, even still, somehow, it’s my heart that’s breaking. Until at last she is happy and healthy, and all in her life is right as rain, not sickness nor peril or even the hour up till my last breath, nothing in this life will keep my love for her restrained.


© 2025 by DC Poetry

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