Long Roadblock Poems
Long Roadblock Poems. Below are the most popular long Roadblock by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Roadblock poems by poem length and keyword.
Faith may come
And faith may go
But our fate
Leads down one road
Along that road
We’ll make mistakes
But the hardest part is
When the answer’s wait
When the answer’s
So crystal clear
Yet it’s reach
Isn’t near
Before this ends
I’ll find my Grace
But the hardest part is
When the answers wait
Only Heaven
Knows the plan
Our destination
Our promised land
And though time’s eternal
I’d have to say
The hardest part is
When the answer’s wait
When the answer’s
So crystal clear
Yet it’s reach
Isn’t near
Before this ends
I’ll find my Grace
But the hardest part is
When the answers wait
I know our two roads will finally meet one day
And we’ll go forth, living out our dream
I just hope that, it’s not too late
Cause the hardest part is
When the answers wait
If there’s one roadblock
That makes us question faith
You can call it fate
When the answers wait
Biological parents minted circa December 1st, 1957
Amelie Beth Harris
fresh out womb blurted "ahoy"
melded as genetic
deoxynucleic acid alloy
awkward first time parents
natural affection did employ
Boyce and Harriet Harris
shed tears of joy,
and feted yearly birthdays,
thus much appreciation ye did buoy
bestowed unconditional love,
thus tis impossible mission
to compensate, thus thank... oh boy
so much financial, emotional debt
I Cain never be Abel to repay...
Benjamin McLane Spock
(May 2, 1903 – March 15, 1998)
quickly became Gibraltar rock
Baby and Child Care (1946)
one of the best-selling
volumes in history
mother frequently referenced,
whenever figurative roadblock
dog eared pages testimony
frequency when apprenticed
at tender age very sensitive
if made accidental laughingstock
then in later years came to my defense,
when this younger brother
pitifully relentlessly teased
courtesy daily bullies targeted me
as token "scapegoat"
pitched yours truly into
verbal suffocating deadlock.
Protective "big" sister
not twisted, yet dynamic as twister
(think bodyguard), and during
play school served as kapellmeister
threatening to kick keister
of anyone who so much
as harm hair on my head
tattooing with resultant
cheeky chic bubbling blister.
Well perhaps hyperbolic stock in trade
slight exaggeration regarding above,
though only 407.417 days age gap
between this scribe and his aforesaid
sibling, the psychological maturation
pegged much greater oft times made
eldest sister donned trumpeted role
much higher emotional paygrade
of surrogate mother
quasi maternal aid
amazing thirteen months older
though more frayed
nerves i.e. mine this
middle progeny i.e. me
dependent analogous to preschool grade
kid (taut) with homesickness anxiety inlaid
missing his mommy feigning
happiness as charade.
i never want to say goodbye
instead, i always choose to kiss you hello
when i try to go down a little further, you distance yourself even more
despite the extra footsteps, all i see is the deep radiance of your love
it keeps me running with not even a hint of a roadblock
wanting you exponentially, i choose to allow my patience to expand and evolve
needing you universally, our love is like certificates of deposits hard at work
i am never tired of the pleasure of your company for you are a dynamic discovery in continuum
i never want to finish all the stories in the series of you
the most wonderful kicker is every episode of you is never ending
i am always eager to unlock the the next intriguing revelation of you
Tick tock, tick tock, the sound of the clock
A constant reminder that time never stops
There must be something that can be done
To slow down the time, how quickly it runs
From seconds to minutes to hours then days
Calendars form an unsolvable maze
Tick tock tick tock, I'm taking stock
How much is wasted, how much is forgot
I must contribute before it's too late
Do something beneficial and not hesitate
So much can be done in so little time
But I must get moving, hands starting to climb
Tick tock tick tock, There's no roadblock
I can't slow the time by watching the clock
I twiddle my thumbs and constantly *****
Waiting for others to flip their switch
Then criticize them without lending a hand
Sleepwalking in daylight just shuffling the sand
Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock...
I
Ah what thrill’s life if guts we’ve to get lost!
To lose way once in a while is no sour sauce—
But way to live. Lose way haply pay cost,
A stone that goes about gathers good moss.
Let challenges dare to confront man’s life,
Life gets lived well in its serpentine length,
If it walks on edge of what we call strife—
A way to reach height, due depth, all the strength.
Two ways define passage of life to track:
Easy winds an oft trodden path to walk,
But he that creates one, confronts roadblock,
Enjoys thrills of the testing times to crack.
Life’s not to carry keys for the locked doors,
But to find it when faced with locks on course.
II
So, look for keys when needed, not before,
Nor resolve a problem ere facing it,
Nor care to know what future has in store,
Cook your own dish, enjoy it as ye eat.
In climbing an often-scaled mountain crest,
One can add to odd statistics, not joy,
Adventure there’s, nor thrill of a contest,
One grows an old boy, life gathers no buoy.
What use utilitarian attitude?
Where romance is, nor sense of adventure,
Write poems good or not, mind your own mood,
Let wild new winds through wide windows venture,
Look at life as a challenge to surmount,
Get lost for thrill, try on rainbows to mount.
____________________________________________
Crown of sonnets |02.01.2024|life, adventure
Poet’s note: The New Year is in its first week. The daily newspapers are full of how it might unfold. I hardly find anyone talking on how to tackle it and be ready how so it might unfold. Life is to try out a new, least-trodden path. It is lived well when one can throw away the roadmap and venture on still. As Lao Tse said: Walk on where there’s trail, nor track, nor a towpath. This two-piece crown of sonnets wonders what’s life without any thrill of adventure of the unknown.
Fear is a prison -
Unseen chains bind you from truth,
Removing freedom,
Shackling your future, your dreams,
Holding your life in bondage.
Fear is a roadblock -
Blocking you from your desires,
Torturing your soul,
Stifling your creative juices,
Holding you back from greatness.
Fear is not from God -
He can break fear's grip on you,
He can loose your chains.
Freedom is yours, if you'll ask.
Fear need not be your master.
9/29/2011
For Chris's Another Chance to Swing contest
LARRY LaVELLE
i call myself the man
it is not a pick-me-upper
it ain't no do-re-me
it is just the way i feel about myself
i call myself the man
one woman still loves me after 30 years of experience in narcissism philosophy
she just shakes her head and smacks me in the back of mine
then she asks me if i want my eggs scrambled with cheese
i just laugh at her and say 'yes mam'
she smiles bashfully as i check her out like we're 16 again
oh she knows it like her favorite classic movie
i will find out how much she knows it later on tonight
the moral of this poem is....i call myself the man....
STUTTERSTEP STEVENSON
i call myself Bountifully Blessed
i was a bully's dream all through school
from the pulling of my permanaps to the sock stolen from my feet....my story was etched in autobiographical filing
my growth became stunted....until you picked me up and dusted me off
through your smile, i was inspired to grow stronger
from there....i was introduced to a New World through your eyes
as a result, i, stutterstep stevenson, was able to find my niche
look at us now....thirteen years of marriage later....you are still causing me to trip all over myself
it still make you giggle in the very same way
even since then, i left the right avenue of stressed
the moral of this poem is....i call myself Bountifully Blessed
POETIC LEFTY
i call myself unconditionally loved
papa strange had a firm hold on me
put blinders on my self esteem yes he did
unbeknownst to me, my usual appearance in constant continuum was looked at as defiance
i can't be me if i can't be myself
how the hell could i exist trying to be like someone else
it has always been comfortable on my street
every now and then some taggers came along and tried to redecorate
however all surfaced on this block was self-cleaning
the same smile was worn on my face when i greeted the roadblock rambler hello
somewhere down the line papa strange moved on to one more vulnerable and gullible
i prayed for that next victim to the Wonderful God Above
though it may not show in my solo forward motion, i am indeed consumed by unconditional love....
a double acrostic
S - Scared to death, I dreaded failures
E - Exams in high school were formidable.
L - Leery as I was, my final grades were phenomenal
F - Finishing with a B- average I stood in disbelief.
A - A little less shaky, I headed to higher academia;
C - College-life was stressful but I refused to panic.
T - Test taking became part of becoming an adult.
U - University structure was a different milieu;
A - Actually I finally got rid of the false chimera
L - Learning who I was and liking how it made me feel.
I - Independence was not the roadblock that I
Z - Zeroed in on as an unsure teenage klutz.
A - Actualization is a work in progress. My agenda
T - Takes on a different focus now; I am less of a pessimist.
I - I graduated with a new motto, a kind of alibi -
O - Occasional failure is not an opportunity to forego
N - New learning experiences because of intimidation.
written Nov. 10, 2016
I Can't Wait For Death
And finally take one last breath
where hands of Seth
Thomas no longer clock
freed at last from cataclysmic aftershock
reverberating thru every baited cell
after quaking mine flinty bedrock
well nigh since birth zapping bloodstock,
an existence fraught with chronic anxiety/
panic attacks convulsing lovely bones,
where anorexic buttock
evinced bloody need dulled deadlock
cramping puberty averse
to let young manhood defrock
childhood's end aghast
(as would Alfred J. Prufrock)
assisting administering electroshock
coursed across every marrow
buzzfeeding mine famished
emaciated skeletal feedstock
self starvation jamming body electric
grave situation forced hand,
where mother intervened
to break-fast gridlock
i.e. pathologically hell bent
to render null and void yours truly
vanishing into black hole
(son) disappearing mock
curry of pathetic existence,
an arrow escape,
when grim reaper did nock
bowed, deplored, vied
against innate willpower
deadbolted with padlock
suffocating lifeforce pitted
with devastating indelible pock
marks still evident as I schlep
along cratered, gutted, pulverized...
impassable singular stairway to heaven
resembling bombed roadblock
finds me tethered, suspended,
roped... hanging lock
stock and barrel atop gaping abyss
mull echo chamber,
where sounds of silence tick tock.
Fear Creates Doubt
Written: by Miracle Man
3/10/2020
Where does the fear come from
that stifles our thoughts, actions,
and becomes a roadblock for God’s plan for our lives.
Fear pilfers our peace and happiness, allowing doubt to creep in,
and when we have a negative mindset, we often lose sight of the goals God has for us.
one of the biggest success blockers- is fear.
Often it’s the fear of taking that first step- and where that stept might lead
But god’s light can chase away any darkness caused by fear.
Prayer should be communication- not a want list
Tom