Long Rise up Poems
Long Rise up Poems. Below are the most popular long Rise up by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rise up poems by poem length and keyword.
A song written by KAP and I ^_^
I kneel down upon the rocks, all else left unknown
I’m kneeling in regret and I’m falling through the sky
No place to go, except to roam home alone
I’m kneeling in regret, thinking my soul’s colors on high
I kneel down
I kneel down
I kneel down
I’m going down in regret
I kneel down
I kneel down
I kneel down
I’m sorry I got you upset
It’s in your eyes, shown
By the light of the moon
It’s beneath the lies, overflown
By my tearful, regretful tune
I kneel down
I kneel down
I kneel down
I’m going down
Lift up that frown
I’m losing it
I’m losing it
I’m losing it
Losing it
Losing it
Losing it
Losing control somehow
I’m living in the now
I kneel down
I kneel down
I kneel down in regret
Now, I rise up, tearless for tomorrow
I rise up from the solemn sorrow
I kneel down
I kneel down
I kneel down
Now, I rise up
I go up instead
Of yielding onto your dread
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
Before the dawn
Before the dawn
Before the dawn,
We kneel down in regret
Only to rise up from negativity’s net
I kneel down upon the sand, all else left behind, left behind
I’m stealing away fret and replacing it with gladness I can’t deny
I have a sacred place of solace to spiral down in in my mind
I’m feeling away the regretful dread and choose to simply fly
I kneel down
I kneel down
I kneel down
I’m going down in regret
I kneel down
I kneel down
I kneel down
I’m sorry I got you upset
It’s in your eyes, shown
By the light of the moon
It’s beneath the lies, overflown
By my tearful, regretful tune
I kneel down
I kneel down
I kneel down
I’m going down
Lift up that frown
I’m losing it
I’m losing it
I’m losing it
Losing it
Losing it
Losing it
Losing control somehow
I’m living in the now
I kneel down
I kneel down
I kneel down in regret
Now, I rise up, tearless for tomorrow
I rise up from the solemn sorrow
I kneel down
I kneel down
I kneel down
Now, I rise up
I go up instead
Of yielding onto your dread
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
Before the dawn
Before the dawn
Before the dawn,
We kneel down in regret
Only to rise up from negativity’s net
I kneel down
I kneel down
I kneel down
Only to rise up
So, get yourself off the ground
Get yourself out of the dumps because you’re bound
To kneel down
Kneel down
Kneel down
Only to kneel above
Kneel above
Kneel above
I lay in my bed.
Thoughts come in waves.
When will it end?
The Dragon slain.
No amount of time.
No person, no thing.
Can change the fate,
That the needle brings.
Sights of Orange,
Delight my eyes.
I pick up a crystal,
And to no surprise.
I crush it down.
In that damn orange cup.
I’m so overwhelmed.
The sinking feeling abrupt.
I carefully decide,
The amount to pour.
Then mix it with water.
And dissolve once more.
I take off the cap,
To reveal the shine.
Of that needle so enticing.
That it blows my mind.
I feel so small.
As I stare at that point.
My body quivers.
I can’t disappoint.
Thoughts of guilt.
Invade my brain.
But my body keeps saying,
This will soon end the pain.
So I draw the solution,
Into the stem.
Then flick it twice.
Let the bubbles settle in.
I slowly push the air out.
That’s collected on top.
And wonder to myself,
If I will ever stop.
But I shrug it away.
And again think of pain.
Then tie on my tourniquet.
And say “ it” again.
The veins start to pop.
And spread on my skin.
They bulge and prod,
And trickle within.
Sometimes this takes hours.
Sometimes days of my life.
I get so frustrated.
But search on with strife.
I stab myself over and over again.
Until the blood flows red into my syringe.
Seeing the blood,
Makes my whole body weak.
But I surrender with ease.
No more words can I speak.
I push the plunger forward,
Till she entires my veins.
Down to the last drop.
Empty and insane.
I wait just a second.
Pull the needle out.
My body turns to fire.
This is what it’s all about.
From my toes to my head,
Her venom spreads.
Ecstasy at last.
No more feelings of dread.
Then the fire fades,
Just as quickly as it came.
And then there’s just calm.
A final break from the shame.
I’ve given my life to this process,
So many times.
The bigger the shot.
The bigger the crimes.
When I’m in this state,
The dragon has one.
My mind and my heart,
Become unspun.
I do terrible things,
To all of my friends.
My family, my children.
But she always wins.
I always think I can only do one.
But that’s never the case.
The cycles just begun.
“The devils tool” I’ve heard it said.
Takes every ounce of life.
And leaves you for dead.
But you rise up and start
The process once more.
A zombie. Tortured chaos.
I don’t know anymore.
Enea Gets the Red Hat
Finally, he's getting somewhere.
Fifty years of age and almost crippled,
prematurely aged, but at last,
sweet recognition rains down
on the poet. Kneeling before Calixtus,
he accepts the Cardinal's hat.
Fancy that.
With every triumph, we're swept nearer Hell.
Each anthem that we sing's a kind of knell.
No matter what we get, or grab, or gain,
we're human, and our lot is death and pain.
Both Frederick and Ladislas
had to do a lot of lobbying
(Calixtus was a Borgia, after all:
and family is family.) Por fin,
esta elevado. Behold the scene.
Frederick with his back to us
and Ladislas holding on to him
(shouldn't that be the other way round?)
deserve their pride of place.
The seething swell of humans
swirls around the little altar,
but can't budge it.
The clear-cut marble doesn't give.
What is the painter telling us?
Men move, and flow, and live, and go,
but soon or later, their
energy is spent?
The Church is permanent?
Regard the four main players,
the upper crust of Mankind's many layers,
yet each one a loser clone.
Calixtus took the throne
already old, and singing one stale tune
(and that, corrupt!)
He didn't use a long spoon
when he supped.
There's Frederick, the Emperor,
a joke. Bullied by his minions,
unhappy, hapless, broke.
And Ladislas, a king without a kingdom,
a cock without a crest,
he's Frederick's long-term guest
(another kind of jest).
A prisoner -- or let's say, at home,
he and Frederick make a palindrome:
august additions to this Pleasure Dome.
Enea: worn out, homesick, ill.
Surviving now on sheer will.
Is that Nature's tonsure, or Man's?
He's kept alive by feverish plans
to mount a Great Crusade --
but we all know it won't be made.
Two rigid windows and an altarpiece.
The Trinity? (The painting is the Holy Ghost.)
Or are those plain, framed panes
the Empire and the Papacy?
You think we're reading too much in?
We point you to one subtle artist's touch.
The youth, right-centre, in the azure cloak,
who's smirking at some "only-I-know" joke:
head cocked, as if he's watching all, askance:
he finds the dainty, double-dealing dance
amusing. Isn't he Rafael?
Hatted like some crimson Cardinal,
he's watching how they rise up, how they fall.
He's waiting, calmly, to inherit all.
.
A whale in a pail is far more active in a gale or in copious amounts of hail. Putting money into sharks is a shifty act involving the shuffling of coats in cloakrooms. And clown costumes placed in the bowls of women's frames are reserved for the elite attire of lemmon lipped bowler heads whose acidic tongue holds the weaponry speeches of tomorrows gore. Pain is a painted potato placed with the pilots to place on a place numbered out and planned on maps arriving by facetious fax machines whose many layered buttons seek to halt a single growing grass level with a shard spoken key. Turning a keyboard to an angle one can visit the highest climate but coinage is best reserved for a large bull with a blue tie. Behind many layers. Many layers is not many lettuces it is merely many lanes. And lanes are lovely on a summer evening returning from the abbey to the house in eighteen fifty-three in long beautiful blue dress with fancy earrings and hair wound in a tight bun. Looking around it is unsurprising that history repeats in the timeless whorl akin to stirring an acre pan of stew or making sandwiches for two hundred people at a picnic. Societal swamps seek some swanky shuffle starting storms. And all the while the little pixies dance in the trees. The unicorns prance, the fairies fly round and round, and all other realmes folk sigh at the endless processions of humans making endless chain of woe. Cause no pattern to rise up from a paper print. For if you do your whole world and house will be prints causing visitors to arrive in many windows to create a karmic reaction and a reaction is a realism and a responsive reach but not a retch. Little frog hums in the kitchen cupboard. He is very bored today and would like to go visit the pond but the machinery placed there ensures it is not safe to hop and when hopping it often is the case that shots are fired from the artillery of the ant people in plastic helmets. They move akin to a swarm of kettledrums on a backlit of carbonised baking trays. Powder that then. Beetroot faced woman in that raspberry printed dress. And to encourage the wrath of a walnut is to embellish a multicolumn of static electricity. Wow. Mish mash mush then. Hahahaha the dancing in the bathroom door hahaha mixed-use mixers mingling mangy mincemeat. Xxxxxxx prese tart structure Paden tar xxxxxxx invertebrates z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z THAT;
Form:
You never cease to amaze me with your powerful, awesome poetry
It fades away my depression and anxiety as my fretfulness and fears dissipate
You never please evilness and malice in your words of peaceful liberty
You throw shades at negativity and uplift with your positivity with your words of shameless love and no hate
Your state of mind is extremely, purely surreal and beautiful
You’re a poetess of plenty of wise words from high above
You never hesitate to shine bright, straight from your precious soul
You’re a progress marked with unconditional love
These teardrops are meant to fall, but all and all,
They fall away just like my disarray and dismay this shimmering May
The moment I saw your words, I stand oh so tall
Your unique forgiveness is a shimmering sea in my mind’s eye today
These torn-up teardrops were meant to fall
The moment my silly, foolish heart fell almost apart
But, sorrow from within faded away after all
You restored grace and hope to my verses from the start
I weep rivers of radiance, rolling around in the deep
The afternoons and nights spent with me, reading your lines of poetic passion
I cry away the tears of hopelessness that I do reap
The tunes of heaven’s heights couldn’t get higher the moments I witness your compassion
These teardrops were meant to fall, I’m meant to stand tall and all
And rise up like the sun-drenched sunrise minutes after dawn
You turned my grief into happiness and made me tread the hopeful hall
And I will climb mountains and roam forests to move on
You never fail to amaze me with your play with words so clever and sweet
You never make me feel disappointed and deceived by your poetry’s pensive, positively provident beat
This is my delightful dedication to your poems of peace that diminishes the chaotic dread
This is my inspirational, motivational words for you to be hopeful and happy for what lies ahead
Thank you for all you do by sharing your genuine, genius grace
It’s awe-inspiring, jubilant people like you that make this life’s race
Worth running for, worth keeping my steady, yet swift pace
I can’t help but adore this everlasting joy in my heart and it’s like a much-needed, family-fervent embrace!
- this poem is dedicated to my awesome poetess friend on Facebook, Lora Lee, who writes wondrous words in poetic form. I wrote this poem at work today.
Our Jesus is condemned to die
Oh, Savior, now from Earth- you part.
You do not sigh, nor do you weep,
Though our sins have pierced your heart.
Dear Jesus bears the Holy Cross,
Our Savior of all humankind,
For us, you start this journey now;
Still, endless love for us you find.
Our Jesus falls beneath the Cross;
So dreadful now to bear this pain.
Dear Jesus, when we fall to sin,
Please help us rise up once again.
Our Savior meets his Mother dear,
Mary, anguished and depressed,
Please help us face our sorrows too-
Live up to all our trying tests.
A man named Simon of Cyrene-
Appears to help our Savior’s plight
To lift the weight of his great Cross-
Lord, burden us to spread your light.
Veronica wipes our Savior’s face.
Look now! His imprint's there to stay!
Please on our souls your imprint make
And help us keep it there, we pray.
Dear Jesus falls down on the path,
Again now for the second time.
But soon he rises to go on,
Lord, help us please, to stay in line.
Our Jesus meets some women now,
They kneel down to mourn and weep.
“Weep not for me,” he says to them,
“But for your children, the lost sheep.”
Our Jesus falls again, this time
His journey's nearly at an end.
Dear Jesus, when we fall to sin,
Grant us the wisdom to amend.
Our Lord now stripped of all his clothes-
This torture is so sad and cruel.
Please, Jesus, strip our souls of sin;
Our hearts and souls, you always rule.
Our Jesus now nailed to His Cross-
Your death, dear Lord, is very near.
Sweet Savior nail our souls to you,
And grant us grace to have no fear.
Oh, the dreaded Crucifixion!
Our Jesus now so humbly dies,
While all the sins and sins to come-
Are placed before his tear-filled eyes.
Our Lord is gently taken down,
In his dear Mother’s arms is placed,
Oh Mary, Mother of our God,
Help ease our sorrows to be faced.
Now, Jesus placed inside his tomb,
To rise again on Easter Day-
Redeemer of all humankind,
With us forever you will stay!
Oh! Great day of Resurrection!
From tomb, he rises to the sky,
With all God’s angels by his side-
He joins his Father up on high.
Oh! Great day of Resurrection!
He rose again on Easter Day!
Redeemer of all humankind,
With us forever you will stay!
The sun rises this morning with its fresh fragrance
Spilling rays of hope, and love everywhere
While the morning looks proudly at me,
And danced away its aged old misery
The smell of hope lingers beyond the shore
And a multitude of pleasure is waiting at my door
The silent music is vibrating in the sand
And the fishermen are singing a merry song
The wind is blowing over the mountain
Speaking to the silent trees
Awake, Awake, Awake
A loud voice resonates,
beckoning them to come to me
Here I am sitting underneath the big cherry tree
With thick branches crisscrossing one another
And angels sitting around covering me on the throne
An infinite story is wrapped up in the tree but only time
can unveil its mystery.
There is not much cherry on the tree as I speak
As one crop is over, another crop comes on
And as soon as it ends, the cherry cycle starts again
I looked clearly between the shrubs
To see if I could phantom what is really going on
But all I could see is radiant skies
glaring at me through the thick cherry bushes
And humming a penitent tune about the big round moon
Today is a special day, and it is different
From any other day, the heat is a little intense
But I feel victory dancing around the bench
We have gone through these stages before
When courage met face to face at my door
My heart was strong, my spirit was deep
And no matter what you do,
you and I could not compete
I could only understand the vessel on the stand
And the vibrating sound of music all over the land
Elated face gathered at the counter to place the final order
I could never understood how you cross through the thick wood
With blades of grass parachuting up to your waist
When the people rise up and become conscious
They will have to drink from the golden cup
The battle is not over the aces
Neither is it over the deck
The battle is over the sexes
I have so much that I want to say to you
I have so much that I want to do for you
You over there and I am sitting here,
We have a lot to share
Come and dine with me
and let me hear your story
Come and dine with me
and share your glory
A shilling or a pound,
a dime or a dollar
It doesn't matter,
Whether liberty or crown
I have to get out of this miserable town
This is not your story, it is my story.
And it is time to publish it.
Hope always wins.
*Image of Paradox of a Mindfoolness.
Irreconcilable Paradox
The midnight sun casts about clear shadows amidst a
twilight noon, 'tis yesterday.
The windy gale brews, astir none to wake the quietude,
America's Guy Fawkes Day.
Watched I the beautiful orange sunset rise up above the
rolling hills flat opened field.
Leaving my umbrella sorted at home, danced I out into
the deluged rain spots yield.
Ambling I briskly stood alone in a crowd, as a quandary
cleared ere me from behind.
Menacing maintaining all matters determined found I at
a total loss to ideas sublime.
Brooding of the things I yet can do yesterday, I hurried
along to finalize nothing else.
In my rush to the airport, boards I, a train that went the
other way past fields of elms.
My new schedule should get me to my appointment in
the nick of time, one day late.
Know I will get that new job for 'tis the first time work I
there as of prior' year to date.
Been unemployed for straight five years, works I out and
in exclusively hands-on daily.
My legs are stronger as a direct cause of that makes me
feel sick for I am e'er healthy.
Speaking on health, the car insurance is fully paid but
wonders I, much is still owed.
On the subject of owing, our daughter's graduation day is
today, four candles a-glowed.
The court speaking, arrangement rose criminal charges
the prosecution, never violets.
Friends and I went to a drive-in, saw an old film just cast,
our Model-T's all on autopilots.
In the end, we all walked out as unconditional strangers,
familiarities sensed a oneness.
E.g.; If hail treasures of an emptied chest wouldst naught
crusheth e'er emphatic dream.
Thence bandied wordings lay straightforwardly ere wee
tilt scale rove archaic extreme.
The farcical tale wove abstractly, yet absolutes resolved
parodies sage distinctiveness.
2022 February 15
*1st Place*
This or That, Vol 10
~~Edward Ibeh: Judged 2022 March 02
*NOTE: I've portrayed the extremities of paradoxes distinctive values as self-defining based on its own merits, my placement via its close proximity to its opposite, validifies that point, whereto, abstracts become absolutes distinguishing their individualism.
Negotiation is a tool and those who reject it is a fool, you must go back to the negotiation table to find out if the proposal is able. You must read every detail of it and be careful not to toss it in ditch. This will be your last chance to get it right before nature starts rolling the dice.
You have walked away from it several times but nature is keeping you alive; you have not read it so how can you understand it? Your IQ is so low but mercy is keeping you on the show. How could you refuse to meet when the people have been keeping you on your feet; I have survived a thousand deaths but destiny is not ready for me yet.
You have got to go to the Negotiation table to get some critical things done; this race is not for you and the angels will not look after you. You have a lot of bills to pay and compensation to give away the destruction of the property is your personal responsibility.
How much time I must tell you that I am not a politician, how many times I must tell you that religiosity and business cannot work? you have swallowed the bitter gall and got mixed up into a brawl.
The table has turned and there is no way you will were wear the crown, you will not return to the stage until you compensate the family for all the misgivings and deception that you have brought.
And when that is done you will suffer the biggest defeat under the blistering sun and all your nuclear weapons will explode in the heavens, they will have no effect on the human brain.
You are stubborn, hard headed and careless, you are not the king, the King’s man or the door man you are just occupying space but nature will get you out of the race, you have angered everybody and no one wants to tarry, you have jailed several journalist and they have branded you as the biggest hypocrite.
I saw it on the evening news how you have handled the accused, I am not a politician and I am not going to sing your political song, release the people from form your jail before the mercenaries come your way, this time nature will respond with full force and water will rise up on every roof ..
You will go to the negotiation room and hear what your negotiators have to say, you will participate in the discussion and show some respect before the dam breaks, I hope that you will understand that you must pay your debt before I go away.
Outside the walls stood a handmaiden gazing
Twisting her skirt between fingers so frail
Patches of burlap were sewn on the garment
Cut from a sack of a barley oat bale
Oh how she dreamed of the opulent palace
Silver and gold and the finest of lace
Gowns made of velvet with ribbons of satin
She spun around with a smile on her face
As if a princess, her blonde hair a flowing
Blue skies above now the tint of her eyes
Hearing a song on the early spring breezes
Never once noticed the coming surprise
Then saw him on horseback and blushed like a petal
Found on the reddest of roses that grew
Knee bent to curtsey, feeling embarrassed
Knowing this gesture is what she should do
“Good day my fair maiden, your dance was enchanting”
He said as he smiled, his kindness was felt
“So sorry my prince, I did not see you coming”
Again on the soil before him she knelt
“Rise up,” he said as he slid from the saddle
“There is no need for such formality,
for one of such beauty tis I who should bow”
Saying this he touched the earth with one knee
Once more she blushed like an apricot sunrise
Standing he reached out and taking her hand
Wondered, “What brings you by here on this morning,
adding such loveliness to our fine land?”
“Your majesty, I’m but a servant daydreaming,
Seeing myself quite the belle of the ball
Very much childish I know you are thinking
For I belong far outside this great wall”
He pondered a moment, his chin now he fondled
Suddenly grinned with the happiest glance
“Well now fair maiden, if thou would permit me
Please be my guest at this evening’s spring dance?”
“Oh handsome prince I could not even think it
Look at my dress, I have nothing to wear
Merely these rags and an old pair of high tops
Never to mention the state of my hair”
“Never you mind and I kind of like high tops
Maybe some jeans and a tank top in red
Pull your hair back and it will be perfect
Nothing you’ll need when we climb into bed”
“What’s that you say, you want sex after dancing
Beat it you creep, I’m abreast of your game
I’ll spread these legs not for anyone fancy
Damn it, you men, every one is the same”
As he departed, rejected and sneering
She stomped away feeling angry and mean
So here you find such an unhappy ending
The truth is she only had eyes for the queen