Long Restraint Poems
Long Restraint Poems. Below are the most popular long Restraint by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Restraint poems by poem length and keyword.
Obedience is worship at our core,
respectful gratitude,
in practiced restraint,
armored Saint parkour.
Obedience helps you to be still
as you are shown the way.
A north star compass by night and by day.
Like as to a river flowing with gentle reflective potion.
Each footstep echoes reverent emotion,
penitentially-potentiality devotion.
I comply to goodness,
in the quiet dance of time and space.
Siren's daring, you, about face.
Temptation and baser instincts held at bay.
In a stillness stirred by the heart's pure ocean.
In humility acts, a serenity of faiths notion,
sigils in silent applause,
we find our purpose, we find our vigilant cause.
In the know of hope in a reposed and dutiful flow
that is natural to natural laws.
A peace of steel, forge, refined in the fire of molding for real, without folding of course, just tested, branded, prodded and steered.
Beneath the weight of whispered commands,
we learn the language that understanding expands.
In yielding, we gather the strength to grow,
in discipline we flourish, in light bestowed.
A prayer in each act, a song in each sigh,
in obedience, we are faithfully tried.
For in submission, there’s freedom to see,
the beauty in grace that sets our souls free.
I’ll admit
I’ve
Thought
About it
The moment where
The ground underneath my feet
Reverses
My life
An old film strip
Burning up after the last breath
With the weight
Embedded to my bones
Of mere existence
Leaking from
My skin
Like bubbles racing to the surface
Sharp points
Of windshield glass
Like freckles on my face
Numbing
The feeling
Of lukewarm red
That makes me
Look like
A morbid drip painting
The scissors
They hold cut the one restraint
Holding my body here
Making me
A puddled mess
Of a being
Crushed
Up against
The hardtop
Where my future aspirations
Wishes and dreams
Are now just stains on asphalt
as i began to understand Virginia Woolf
her voice from a room of her own
i realized i was upon a mountain
she had exposed the molehill it was
the dirt soon revealed a tunnel
entering it opened a new horizon
where i finally fully grasped the world
surrounding Jane Austen
in that moment the mist upon the horizon
disappeared and i could finally grasp
her words between the lines
denied a seat upon the Parthenon
forbidden attending The School of Athens
she displays the truth about her gender
that soft restraint we find in mother
its wisdom resplendent
in that hardened fist of reality
covered in a glove of soft lamb
we forgive ignorance
or become yet another in the mirror
who denies the freedom the world
breathes in every breath
the child's first cry
should echo, i am born free
deserving a room of my own
all warrant the miracle life is
nascent in the gratitude within
OKC 6/22
The Wall Between Us
There stands a barrier between us.
A wall in the most literal sense.
But it's taken on another form,
The height of which stands immense.
There was a crack within it once.
As a carpenter, you patched it well.
Now on your side of the mended wall
You choose to hide away and dwell.
You spoke of desire within your heart,
And even promised your love is true.
What keeps you away and confined
Behind a prison wall built by you?
You created a rampart I will not cross,
For to breach it I fear I may stumble.
If I could I'd ask the Israelite, Joshua,
To make your wall weak and crumble.
With restraint, I will not seek a way
To open a crack in your wall once more.
If you truly love me you will discover,
Within your wall you can build a door.
It was an ordinary funeral,
nothing striking—except the strange restraint of the living.
The coffin, made of somber wood, bore an inscription,
succinct, sincere, almost brutal:
In this world, no one takes anything away.
And just below,
like the advice of an old master to his absent-minded disciple:
Be humble, and thank even your enemies.
Take pleasure, as much as you can, in your passage.
I stood there,
mute, wordless,
my heart suspended at the edge of the abyss,
and I reflected.
On those days we treat as possessions,
as if time obeyed our will.
On those objects we hoard—
when we fear we might mean nothing.
On those grudges we nurture
like cherished treasures.
On that “tomorrow” we distrust,
on the tenderness we muzzle,
on the forgiveness we ration
as if it were scarce currency.
On the life we neglect
in the name of a later no clause has ever guaranteed.
But the hour comes—inevitably—
when all is left behind.
What we thought we owned fades into shadow.
What we managed to give might endure.
A hand extended.
A gentle memory lodged in another’s mind.
Life is not measured by rewards.
It is felt in the trace of sincere impulses.
So live with integrity, with heart.
Love without contract or condition.
Laugh even if the order of the world wavers.
Weep if your soul overflows with pain.
Forgive without expecting anything in return.
And above all,
do not postpone
what, today,
might make life vibrate.
For that evening will come
when the dawn no longer breaks.
And on that day,
no one—
I say it plain—
takes anything away.
As par and parcel of being
alive wire impossible aye
to maintain totally tubularly
literarily celibate by and bye
with parochial restraint antiseptic dry
as dust poetic refrains
asper this healthy older guy
devoid of physical whim zee
unlike a inscrutable eunuch...so hi
there dear reader experienced
by this self contrived Zen
minded nonestablishmentarian outlier,
whose nonconformist yen
tries to steer clear of controversy,
heresy, prurient wen
unless one happened
to be eunuchized,
i.e. sexless as a cold oven,
but similar to generic men
this writerly hen
pecked husband dully
drumming, droning, and
dribbling as a lix spittle
aged chap housed within
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania bailiwick
though far less inclined
to whet ma lil atrophied dipstick
than some young buck
at the peak of his sexual prowess
every now and again viz,
aye feel a much slighter sensation
drubbing, crackling, and
buckling mine body electric
and attempt to record
re: font ten blue type
boldface and/or Italic
such infrequently occurring
fleeting Johnson magic
speculating why the
hoo ha regarding mystic
spell binding codas,
dogmas, and enigmas,
an integral component naturalistic
within the calculus of life,
when human species
(parenthetically), naturally, inherently,
and biologically opportunistic
akin to other organisms whose quixotic
antics allow NON GMO,
MSG, and gluten free,
and uncensored discussion
asper reproductive habits rhapsodic
with floral and/or faunal symphonic
emanations donning each their own
"NON FAKE" trumpeting
spectacular humbly modest
rubric, yet...universalistic
as being linkedin
within the cosmic whirled wide web.
Streaks of pallid moonlight
wash over blood-stained
burnt umber leaf blight.
Glistening stainless steel remains
within wilting noir roses
and blistered blades of grass.
Sickening hands shake my repose,
heart racing, sure to collapse,
feeling faint.
A revolting nausea elevates,
trying to find restraint,
as madness deregulates.
A heart separated
from a lifeless corpse—
death awaits.
Flashbacks play like static reports,
too hard to get a clear picture.
Splashes of splattered red fill
spaces in between scriptures.
Screaming echoes spill,
dirty visions getting clearer,
as the sacrificial lamb
becomes the predator, evaporating fear.
Fighting for the blade, fingers clammy,
spinning out of control.
How could you bring me to this?
Steel cuts against palms, foretold—
splatters of crimson spray, don't resist,
covering fear-filled eyes.
One last-ditch effort:
grab the hilt and arise.
On this deadening night, collect.
You became Samhain’s sacrifice,
a feast for the demonic nether, sanctified.
a kiss
a touch
an invitation
a warm embrace
a concrete gesture
a kind word
a letter
a gift
a card
a note
a call
you
and
me
x
x
x x x
x x x
xx x x
xx x xx
xx x xx
xx x xx
xx xx
xx xx
x xx xx
x xx
xx xx
xx xx
xx xx
xx xx
xxxx
I love that you
don’t wait
for a
special
occasion
to show your
tenderness and affection
you are generous with your time
you give of yourself without restraint
your smile and laughter are contagious
you’re always thoughtful and considerate
you’re truly genuine and kindhearted
Thank you for the lovely bouquet
I lucked out when I married you, my darling, I love you
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
The arms of sky's tapestry
embraces my childlike wanderings
from a time I hardly remember
when I played without restraint.
Her murmurs have hummed
with every rhythm taken,
a melody one of eternal pleasure.
I continue to scan life's grandeur
swooping through a time tunnel
and chasing midsummer leaves.
And through it all,
I am in awe of her brilliant presence
that bouncy trail of simplicity
mirroring my youth's enthusiasm.
On my own hour with her,
my night sky and I chase dragonflies
while a fresh rainbow paints the landscape
with kites of shimmering gaiety
to continually imbue and enrich
my inner child through her tapestry.
Leon Datu
An Evening Sky Contest 25 Mar 14
Love of truth
the very light of Greece
A peninsula thrust out
like a bony hand,
‘God-tormented Greece,’
Zeus exclaimed,
“I shall give man ‘an evil,’ as the price of fire:
They will clasp destruction with laughter of desire.”
The Gods live on-even though obscure.
Fate rules them too, as Zeus learns
the heroes must die; and the greater
the heroism the earlier the death.
Greece being, itself so divided
between the rational and irrational,
between logic and instinct,
between the scientific and the magical,
between the state of self possession
and that of being possessed,
and one can continue……
between symmetry and diversity,
between the recognition of limits
and the pursuit of the limitless,
between restraint and vaulting ambitions,
or hubris, Pythagoras in all his wisdom
could achieve no resolution or harmonia.
Of all these diverse elements, what was
greatest in him, and in Greece,
was the recognition of these conflicts
for what they were…….
that by grappling with them
a better order in life might then arise.