Long Restricts Poems
Long Restricts Poems. Below are the most popular long Restricts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Restricts poems by poem length and keyword.
Radical planet friendly measures
equals earning kudos as unsung hero
(think environmental/carbon footprint)
nearly absolute zero
while global population quarantine
suspension of civil rights
would never fly with trumpeting pharaoh.
Since United States economically crippled
(as well rest of world wide web)
courtesy coronavirus fallout rippled
analogous, whereby Mother Earth
(Gaia's) motley crew psyches stippled.
Golden nugget opportunity whence
twenty first century man/womankind
can make figurative about face
humanity undergoes tense
fossil fuel powered civilization
intricate tapestry doth unwind
(COVID-19) wreaking havoc
among flu fighting village people
constituting human race
shifting radical paradigm
toward renewable resources
alas me dogmatic karma credit
thinks green new deal
(Paine fully) common sense
to any doubting Thomas
since global governments
currently flattened, gutted,
hobbled, immobilized, jackknifed
martial law restricts
impugns verity capitalistic
(re: cannibalistic planetary exploitation)
acquiescing higglety pigglety
free for all
(Alfred E. Neuman wannabes) madcap
(spy versus spy chase
explicit green lighting
global (fiery red) desecration rents
linkedin multitude innocent
flora and fauna violently asunder
ethos predicated upon
vandalistic, monopolistic, capitalistic...
manifest destiny codas enshrined
no matter indigenous tribes genocide
horrifically did erase
place names benign injustice
underestimates true value
native peoples legacy
impossible mission feebly
conjuring bloody events
sacred treaties scotched, revoked, quashed...
accentuating death sentence signed
obliterating rightful heirs amazing grace
storied proud nations traduced
as agents provocateur
cruelly prodded to adopt
offense and/or defense
inevitably pushed off their sacred lands
today their abysmal existential nihilistic crisis
crushing, damning, punishing... poverty
testament how third eye blind
turned away s as to avoid witnessing
tears for fears etching staind face.
The fable of the two snakes in the grass
There were two snakes in the grass,
buried in the pit of life,
now bemoaning their past,
with hisses, coils and strikes
she constricts
he restricts
venom spewing out
she thwarts his advances
and he thwarts hers
stubbornness seeding,
in the pot of mystery
In the rock bottom
garden of life,
... there they were
continuously watching their every
movements like lovers
but in this case like adversaries
like snakes in the grass
her eyes would pierce his
his eyes would send chills down her back
on and on,
on and on
these two battled
battling night and day
then one day
and once upon a time
story has it a huge earth quack hit
it hit faith
it hit destiny
it hit the rock bottom garden pit
sending the pair twirling around
twirling around on top of each other
like a washing machine
and when the tremors stopped
the cycle stopped
the pair was still on top of each other
their eyes soften
their coats insulate
the heat felt good
they nudge closer together
sniffing Heaven for once
changing their venom to love
being pregnant with happiness
and soon a nest of little ones, too
so cute
that even the two snakes in the grass are beaming
beaming a new found purpose in life
olive branches of tremors, fate
a fortuitous bounce
connie pachecho
3/16/17
A hidden world, like a heart's inner word
it cannot be seen, nor can it be heard
everyday of your life, it exists
you try to resist, but it persists
Just as thoughts control one's mind
so too, the will power where one can find
a way to cope, or at least to unwind
from troubles and fears that do so bind
Fear restricts freedom, your mind to explore
it is forcing your happiness into a detour
left is desire to find this calm, and be content
better than suffering, with fear to vent
There is no escape, you feel like your bait
only time now stands, between you and your fate
no respite, whatever you might endeavor to do
knowing those worries, nevertheless, will continue
It plagues your mind, and plagues your soul
hearing inner voices saying, "I told you so"
so once again, withdrawing from that chase
retreating yourself, to your secret hiding place
That place of comfort, and place of security
a location guaranteeing you, your obscurity
time has taught you, you have fine tuned
this is your way, to heal your own wound
Overcoming fear is the only way
it requires patience to wait that day
thinking you can rely, to yourself do you obey
but with time, once again you do go astray
To regain control, of your inner world of fears
you need a friend, with whom to share those tears
someone who has been tested, someone to confide
allowing you to open up, and to no longer hide
A friend who listens, allowing you to mend
on a special someone, whom you've come to depend
that beautiful soul, she alone with her tears
knows that secret, to remove those fears
Your friend for the duration, till the very end
she is not into gossip, nor does she pretend
a bosom soul mate, destroying your world of fears
giving you a listening ear, and her heart that cares
POETRY
Poetry by tradition must be rhythmic.
Rhyming or non-rhyming matters little.
Rules- regulations to pen a poem
restricts poet to fly freely in sky
Better to allow the poet to soar high.
Wandering in dreams to be amused
on own muse reflecting on emotion.
Free verse is queen in realm of poems.
Rhythm with internal rhyming runs fine.
Yet Poetry is nicest creation
simultaneous self recreation.
Human feelings best to be realized
through songs and poems.
Lyrics also are part of poetry.
Perfect poetry to feel and realize,
neither to analyze or criticize.
Whether structured form or free verse to flow
True poetry in any guise sure to glow.
11/26/19
Unrequited love is shallow,
lacking depth; it cannot float dreams.
And yet, you'll forego happiness
for a lifetime of silent screams.
Both tormentor and destroyer,
doubt devastates your sense of pride.
A heart that craves a love denied
will wilt and slowly die inside.
Unattainable dreams fuel
frustration, anger, and remorse.
And they attack reality;
striking with irrational force.
Truth restricts the expectations
and anticipations of youth.
And yet, you have fallen in love,
acknowledging no other truth.
Feeling lost, nothing seems real,
drowning in tears, you cling to hope.
For rejected hearts often break;
finding they’re unable to cope.
Rainy Days
On a rainy day, the kids can’t play,
But the farmer views it a different way.
As a cloud passes over he’ll anticipate,
That it brings the water which his crops await.
The rain falls from heaven and soaks the earth,
And the miracle of life is brought to birth
The seeds bear fruit and begin to grow,
However fast, however slow.
When harvest time comes he gathers what he’s sown
But he doesn’t view this miracle as being ‘home grown’
There’s plenty there to benefit others
He gives of his crop to feed his brothers
Fathers and Mothers, children too.
Each one of them receives their due.
They all receive sustenance from what they eat
It gives them the power to stand on their feet
It gives them the strength they need each day
To work, to preach and yes …even to play
So listen all you children, the rain isn’t bad
It’s just the way you view it that makes you sad.
If you’re forced to stay home, you can find much to do
There’s a wealth of activity so close to you
If you dare to turn about and take a good look
You may solve a problem, or even read a book
Don’t feel the rain restricts you, as it just isn’t so
In reality, it’s that same rain that causes you to grow.
If you look at life Jehovah’s way you’ll find this is true.
It’s just the way you view it that makes each day for you.
Andy Jarvis October 11th, 2011
Freedom
Degradation, demoralization
Doom, destruction, decadence
And the masses still cry ’Freedom!’
None of this even makes sense
Free to live out every feeling
Every thought and every dream
This will better life and people
Well at least, so it may seem
We should be the freest spirits
With no one to answer to
Life will give us utmost pleasure
Dare not say this isn’t true
Let us revel in denial
Let us be and let us live
No explaining, no correction
Do not force us to forgive
Tell us not of repercussions
We are living by the day
We won’t hear of consequences
If all it does is cause dismay
Freedom is what we are craving
And we get it, each his own
Whether it restricts another
Empathy will not be shown
And the more we long for freedom
The more we all become depraved
Mind the shackles of this freedom
For it wants us all enslaved.
Wendy Nipas
I feel trapped. Inside my own body.
There’s so much I want to change about myself and who I am, but I can’t.
I feel the tiny ribbons of who I am fighting against each other inside me.
Under my left shoulder I feel the red ribbon pulling me to give who I love everything and anything I have to offer.
Through my arms I feel my blue ribbons telling me that what I’m giving is mine, things that they worked to earn me. They tell me no.
In my thighs I feel the purple ribbons complain of such desire for things that the orange ribbon in my head knows is not right. They tear each other apart, confetti.
Wrapped around my bones I feel a white ribbon straighten my spine and push me to do better, to carry more. The thing is, I don’t know if the white ribbon is telling me to carry more for myself, or others.
Wrapped around my throat, there is a green ribbon. This one chokes back words that I want to say most, that will do the worst things. Green ribbon let’s out word vomit when it isn’t paying attention and I make mistakes. Green ribbon restricts me and frees me all at once, my words die in my esophagus.
In control of my knees, claves, and feet is yellow ribbon. Yellow ribbon straightens my walking patterns in variation to how much alcohol has been consumed. But sometimes it falters and I find myself stumbling completely sober and standing straight up when I should be doubled over. These ribbons wrap around each other and meet in knots. They pull on each other until one is in control of the wrong thing and I’m falling.
I’m falling so fast that the air moving past my face is keeping me from breathing and-
Confetti.
I am confetti.
Hell itself cannot burn any brighter
No faster than stars fuel the sky
I follow them all in search of heaven
But it’s us on Earth feeding that fire
They all fade slowly from existence
Spreading out right under my eyes
Not because they obey a command
In truth, there’s so much space to hide
I watch distance stretching on forever
As human intelligence restricts my mind
Nothing stays in the place it begins
Perceived certainty, or just plain lies
And I’ve many grave misgivings
about rockstars that chose to die
Did they tap into a secret chord
to find it was always background noise
Oh, I curse this whole damn cosmos
for creating such an impenetrable void
It knows nothing of fixed boundaries
Only how to dim despite all our sighs
My daughter posed to me a curious question.
She asked, “Dad, where do you get your inspiration,
To get up each morning before the rising sun,
And put your garbage collector’s clothes back on?
I know you told me about your years in the state prison,
And how that restricts the opportunities that you are given;
But there is not one single time that I can remember
You missing a day since I was born on the tenth of December.
And I would really like to know just how do you do it
Without ever complaining or threatening to quit?”
So, I looked at my daughter in her beautiful blue eyes,
And I tried to explain to her my reasons and give her my whys.
“Well, you see, eighteen years ago this beautiful baby girl,
By your dearly departed mother, was brought into my world;
And for the first time in my life, I had a reason to live;
So to this jewel I was granted, a little bit I could give.
With every garbage can I lift and empty into my truck,
I thank God for my job and giving me this luck.
So I give you this answer, and swear that it’s true,
All the inspiration I need, I get straight from you."
Now I sit with other parents in a late May celebration;
As my daughter and her classmates enjoy graduation.
And I watch with pride as she starts giving her speech;
As first in her class, my daughter did reach.
She ends her speech saying, “People ask me about my persistent study habit,
Well, my inspiration is my father, who taught me never to quit.”
Even with her scholarships, there are still expenses to pay,
So the next morning at 4:00 I start another work day.
by, Joe Flach