Long Scares Poems
Long Scares Poems. Below are the most popular long Scares by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scares poems by poem length and keyword.
You don’t have to say I love you for someone to know
You think someone means it just cause they say it, no
I’ve tried all my life to find out what love means
I thought it was easy, but trust me, it’s a lot harder than it seems
God gave me the gift, he gave me the ability to write
But that’s hard to do when you’ve lost your sight
I’m not talking about my literal eyes
I lost the ability to see a future without my demise
I see a broken man, with one too many bandages
When you pray for strength, God will give you challenges
You have to overcome them in order to become strong
I thought I had strength, but it turns out I was weak all along
I’m nothing without you Lord, and that’s what really scares me
I sacrifice myself for others all the time, cause it’s my own worth that I can’t see
It’s easy to pretend to be something you’ll never be
When I look back at it now, it’s actually pretty funny
I look in the mirror and laugh at myself
Did I think they would remember me as a friend or as something else
Maybe a hero, someone admirable
But then I realize that word is unfathomable
Cause you can never give what you don’t have
Maybe that’s why no one around me can find happiness or a reason to laugh
I’ve been searching for a reason to even exist
I hope someone relates to the heart I put in this
Been alone my whole life, but not by choice
God’s the only one that’s ever heard my true voice
My fiancée left me for a person I called friend
If my life were a book, after that, it’d say The End
Or maybe not cause I’m still here
But if I ever saw her again, I’d say dear
Thank you for teaching me that all I ever wanted was to feel wanted
At first, when I thought of you, I was only haunted
By the thought of never being good enough
3 years together and you broke up with me over Facebook, man that’s tough
But now I can look back and smile cause we just weren’t right for each other
You’re the reason I value the relationships I have more, why I can call someone my brother
So thank you again, cause you taught me how precious it is to find something genuine
Cause that’s what lasts forever, and if it’s fake well forget it then
I don’t have time or room in my life for fake
I need to be more like you God every moment that I wake
You just read a page from my diary
But don’t think with that, you can ever define me
How can we not have this conversation
where footprints of the poor vanish
beneath the boots of investors,
and the river sings only
to those who can afford its luxury?
In Chobe, the elephants roam free,
but people walk caged in poverty.
We call it coexistence
when tusks are protected,
but mothers bury their sons
gored near neglected kraals.
And no one comes
unless it's a game drive
and the victim is not black.
How can we not speak
when the lion's roar is louder
than a widow's cry for compensation?
When leopards eat goats
and ministries write reports not cheques?
Let's talk about the five-star smiles
that greet foreign tongues
while the Batswana mop floors, serve beer, and sleep on concrete after ten-hour shifts.
Let's talk about uniforms and pay slips
that smell like servitude,
contracts folded into silence
in offices lined with antelope heads.
And let's speak of the racism
how a Black woman was shot by a white woman
who said, "I thought it was a monkey."
As if her body was a silhouette of threat.
As if Blackness is always a blur
on the edge of someone else's comfort.
The river bore witness, but the law shrugged,
and headlines softened the bullet.
Let's talk of fishermen
banished from their birthright,
told their canoes spoil the view,
that their laughter scares the tourists,
that their presence is pollution.
Let's speak of lodge owners
who toss insults like breadcrumbs
to those who clean their sheets
lazy, slow, replaceable.
No chains, but contracts.
No slurs, just smiles
with knives beneath them.
We cannot be quiet
when the sun sets
behind lodges built on lies,
and the river is fenced
not for safety, but exclusion.
How can we not speak
of the politics of permits,
where land is leased
like livestock,
and council seats are auctioned
to the highest foreign bidder?
Corruption blooms like water hyacinth,
choking life from the roots
of communal trust.
The sand knows.
The baobabs know.
Even the crocodiles know
how long we've swallowed
our own tongues
to protect the myth of peace.
So let us talk.
Let us gather in the heat
of midday truth,
where no luxury air-con hums.
Let us speak until the sky listens,
until justice stalks this land
as fiercely as the wild.
Because silence, here,
is complicity.
And we have been quiet
for far too long.
Form:
I. Theory
She is dark and her darkness frightens you. But as closer you come to her, the lighter the darkness becomes. How bright the light were, if a thousand suns would rise in the sky at once, but even such unbearable light powerlessly pales in comparison with the darkness of the one who scares you so much. The whole world, from heaven to hell, from black holes to snake’s ones, from the purest aspirations of human soul to the dirtiest pores of its flesh, is soaked with darkness like a sponge... Speaking of which, who is a class monitor today? The blackboard after the lesson should be virgin clean.
so don’t be afraid
come close and take the final
step toward yourself
II. Practice
Blind, hands in front, moving forward slowly. Or walking around. Direction no longer mattered. Time too. The last memories of light have long been left behind and now only darkness surrounded me. Alas, I wasn’t alone here. Fear didn’t leave my side, and its chains, clanging out there, made me nervously laugh. As instructed, after laughter pain comes, and soon there were three of us: a fear, a pain and the echo, laughing in the dark. It was all a bit sad. It all meant I haven't met her face-to-face yet.
endless loneliness
in everlasting darkness -
that's what she looks like
III. Exam
The human mind turns any abstractions into anthropomorphic forms. She had cat eyes, and in her vertical pupils I saw only eternal gloom. The weary moans of a woman, giving birth in pain; a newborn’s first cry; a girl's tears over the baby bird that fell out of the nest; a red-nosed widower’s choking sobs; an old man’s death rattle; the multi-billion groaning of the planet, being devoured alive by the black hole - that was the voice she spoke to me. Fleeing universes; cold, red, giant corpses of once living and hot stars; lifeless stone balls, spinning in the void - that's what I saw, having come close to her. All that could be said was said; all that could be lost was lost; all that made sense, became senseless. At last I was alone, alone in the literal sense of this word, but even loneliness requires clarification. "The noun, the inanimate, the middle genus," I clarified, and at the same moment I understood the meaning of the lesson, which had previously eluded the one who always was
the unthinkable
inscrutable complacent
dazzlingly bright nought
Hello. I am Jim Crow, and I was born in America after the Civil War and met my fate many years later after much civil unrest. You may have never encountered me, but some things about me you might already know. I was not a real person, but rather a caricature designed to berate, distort, and ridicule an entire race of people. I represented a system, behind which stood millions of people. They gave birth to and upheld me proudly, using me to implement their blood-letting ideas.
I caused lots of pain, inflicted massive wounds, and was responsible for the death of many innocent people. A psychological nightmare, I had no desire to change; but I was left with little to no choice. You see, people create the systems they want to live under. People and their ideas changed; perhaps others simply disappeared to fight another day. So I also changed, and more precisely, also disappeared. Most of my closest friends would rather pretend that I never existed.
I resided in the southern region and inflicted innumerable emotional scares on certain people. My social order demanded that there be separation of Blacks and Whites. I know. You heard and read about "Apartheid" in South Africa; in America, it was me, Jim Crow.
I must say that it was not my idea to talk about these things. I along with others were given the theme, "Let's Talk About It", and was asked to write something about abuse. So I decided to write about emotional abuse, the type I'm most familiar with. I inflicted lots of it; so I ought to know; I'm Jim Crow. The inhumane treatments to my fellow humans are too numerous to note. I never believed they were humans anyway. Realistically, the only thing inhuman was me, Jim Crow.
As history now reveals, I am no longer around, needed, or desired. I wrecked and ruined lives, causing havoc upon generations of people until the whole nation said, "Enough!". I'm Jim Crow.
8317PS,Let's Talk About It, Richard L., 1P Personification
Headline News Hypocrisy
"If you see anybody from that cabinet in a restaurant, in a department store,
at a gasoline station, you get out and you create a crowd.
You push back on them. Tell them they’re not welcome anymore, anywhere!" Maxine Waters
Main Stream Media “She is such a dynamic leader.”
“I’d like to take Trump out behind the gym and kick his ****!” Joe Biden
Main Stream Media “You tell’em Joe.”
“We can’t be civil until we are back in charge again!” Hilary Clinton
Main Stream media “She should have been President.”
“When they go low, kick them!” Eric Holder
Main Stream Media “They deserve it.”
“Get up in the face of some congress people!” Corey Booker
Main Stream Media “You go Spartacus.”
“Make America great again!” Donald Trump.
Main Stream Media “Man, that guy is so hateful, always promoting violence”
Ok, I am sorry for this but it is infuriating me and the main stream media is the enemy of the people. Stop reading me if you like because of this
but it is every day and has been for the past two years. What really gets me is people act like they don’t see it or feel that it is okay.
Whether you like the guy or not, this is just too much. I have seen numerous poems on this site trashing the President of the United States.
Everyday there are more. I mean really? Yes, I agree he’s not the nicest guy in the world. He shoots his mouth off too much but he is doing something,
Which is more than I can say for any other President, Democrat or Republican. He works hard and that is what scares these other politicians.
They look at politics as a job where they don’t have to do anything except sit around all day arguing with each other. They are scared to death of work.
Tim Smith just posted a poem about Kindness…everyone should read it. Why can’t everyone just be kind to one another? Yeah, I know…stupid question.
The headline this morning on MSN read: "Pittsburgh mourns synagogue shooting victims as protestors await Trump." Did we really need the last part of that headline?
Can’t they let these people and the country mourn in peace? Why do they always have to stir up crap? Why didn’t they just write, Pittsburgh mourns synagogue shooting victims and we still hate Trump?
“What are you afraid of?”
…
This question is often brought upon me; I feign nonchalance and am perceived as someone who maintains intrepid behavior. However, that is simply untrue. Brazenly, I am quite a “wimp.” While my fears cannot be held to a simple definition, I present this ultimatum:
My greatest sentiment is entangled within love, yet love is what terrorizes my fragile being the most. My friends and family give me the very affection I need to survive, yet the thought of it being taken away haunts me. I fear that one day, everyone I love will lose the mutuality we share; that one day, my raw emotion will be what drives their repulsed selves away. When their disgust consumes them, they eventually abandon me; we will part, not on good terms but out of the profound repugnance they hold for me.
…
My foundation is built upon the lessons I’ve been taught by others, as I perpetually mature through them. Losing someone who has nurtured my ethics throughout my life would be losing a part of myself; without them, I would be an undone puzzle, longing for my unfulfilled life to be completed. Maybe then, I would finally feel whole.
…
The individuals who I’ve grown with have treated me with respect, and have provided me with a sense of belonging. If they were to hurt me, or damage my sensitive soul, I would continually exist while unrepaired. The thought of someone who I trust hurting me courses fright through my spirit. It would not only break the sense of faith I have in them, but I would find it hard to believe anyone in general.
…
To heal is to move on; but I possess memories, memories too unbearable to simply be forgotten. I fear that I will be unable to forgive and forget what has been brought upon me. Just like everyone else, I have struggled greatly, and I find it hard to neglect the pessimistic emotions tearing at me. But what if I never heal? You cannot forget if you haven’t been burdened with memory, yet not everyone forgets. So what if I don’t?
…
Abandonment, loss, damage, the inability to heal; aren’t these all a part of life? Though I don’t want to die, I feel as if I fear existing; life itself overwhelms me, when it shouldn’t, and though what I go through is normal, the anxiety overtakes the feeling of living. Maybe life itself scares me; maybe I’m just.. weak.
There was man named Garrison,
and he lived the good life,
flush with that big trust-fund money,
he hungered for the night,
for booze and bodies tight,
the finest clubs were his domain,
his bar tabs were truly insane,
his one-night stands were numerous,
the affairs always light.
He was technically a lawyer
in his father’s old firm,
was kept on mostly for his name,
got more money to burn,
deserved not what he ‘earned,’
his condo was a bachelor pad,
wis many friends thought it was rad,
the women came and women went,
an ever-constant churn.
But Garry saw no problem here,
he was ‘living the dream,’
ladies and drugs, mountains of cash,
the dreams of quiet teens,
a hit in every scene…
but his father just sighed and said,
“Keep it up and you’ll end up dead.”
Still Garry saw no issue with
enjoying his own green.
Though as he went through his twenties
he noticed a strange thing,
every time he lived it on up,
less pleasure did it bring,
less fun in every fling,
it was fun but not as intense,
at fist this did not make much sense,
he’d always so enjoyed this life,
now it wasn’t working…
And worse still was the growing pain
that he’d feel the next day,
sometimes it made him stop to ask
if he wanted to play,
Or at home should he stay?
He had achieved what most men want,
a wild life that he could flaunt,
so then why, when being honest,
did he no longer crave?
And then one day at twenty-eight
his friends wanted to drink,
the thought of it made his bones hurt,
so away he did slink,
depressed, needing to think...
looked at his life, what did he see?
Pregnancy scares and STDs,
and a handful of nights he’d slept
off his drunk in the clink.
Nothing to show for all his fun,
nothing that could impress,
the world did not care that he had
dropped many a tight dress,
everything seemed a mess,
and worst of all, he’d no savings,
he’d always blown through everything,
while his brother had made partner,
Garry himself felt less.
He would soon drift far from his friends,
far from the debauchery,
felt like a stranger in his own life,
some sort of refugee,
his path he could not see…
What was life now? He couldn’t say,
what once was clear now seemed so gray,
he wondered if this was adulthood,
searching for what to be…
Many say that everyone gives up on them. The sad reality, is that all to often, this is painfully true.
But then, you find someone. Someone different. Someone who has endured more for you than anyone else has. Someone who has over & over proven to be true to you. Someone who has proven to be trustworthy, loyal, honest, & care for you through thick and thin. They hold tightly to you no matter what you throw at them, simply because they love you.
Now, picture that person physically embracing you. You hold them at first. But soon your arms start to grow tired. You begin to question it. "Why would this person so strongly embrace me, when everyone else has walked away?" You begin to lose faith in this person's promise to you. Although they continue to embrace you; you loosen your grip.
Further contemplating, you begin to doubt your own worth. Moreso, you second guess this other person that is so tightly bound to you, & you drop your arms to your side. Although they still hold you tightly, you continue to doubt: "Why should I put forth the effort for someone who will surely walk away?" You are certain that the effort's worthless. But despite convincing yourself that it's too good to be true, they still hold you tightly. They love you. They have no reason, nor desire, to leave you.
You don't understand why they are still there. It's almost bothersome. "Why are they still holding so tightly, when SURELY they will leave in the end?" It makes you uncomfortable, so you begin to pull away. But they just pull you back. They remind you that they are here to stay. They hold you tighter, & insist it will be okay. All they ask is that you have faith in them; as they have had faith in you.
You won't have it. You can't. So you begin to fight them off. But while you push, shove, and try to beat them away, they do not fight back; they only continue to hold you.
You finally manage to pry their arms off of you, but they barely catch you with their hands; & again pull you close.
You struggle & fight to rip them off of you. "Noone could possibly want to stay this badly, it doesn't make sense!" The thought of someone loving you so much doesn't seem real, so it scares you. You can't be hurt again. So you must fight off any potential heartache...
To be continued...
We are the same, but oh so different-
both intrigued by life's strange flow.
Inquisitive as to how-
my Hellish life's led to this "home".
He'd shown light upon my scars-
in ways I'd never seen before.
He did not dismiss their depths-
but led me to so much more.
So I traversed uncharted places-
In hopes I'd find my purpose.
And though the journey scares me-
he assures me that it's worth it.
So I dipped my toes in first-
and then submerged into the depths.
I took his outstretched hand-
and prayed my safety would be kept.
Through most of my life-
I'm the one whes giving care.
To everyone around me-
Always had love to spare.
So now that he is here-
and has stooped down to hold me.
The warmth it does confuse me-
I fear such love might control me.
I seep into your skin-
and try inhabiting this space.
There's nothing in this world-
quite like that smile on your face.
Without much thought at all-
I'll infect you through and through.
I'm hoping that you'll catch me-
as I fall back into you.
Just as I start to trust the fall-
you step, just out of view.
And suddenly my safety net-
escapes along with you.
Why the sudden change the heart? -
with only hollow words to respond.
But the way your lips move-
they paint the most enticing sounds.
I'm desperate now to feel the warmth-
that you wrapped around my heart.
I search for any way-
(to) revive what we had from the start.
There's no way it just dissapeared-
with such fine in our eyes.
Or was I simply Foolish-
to think youd want me all your life?
What is it I keep missing?
when people offer me their love?
Honestly, it's probably-
that I can't be loved at all.
Or maybe I am just naive-
and I just can't help myself.
When pretty smiles, speak pretty lies-
it conveys an unfeigned help.
To think that one could care so much-
and believe I'm worth protecting.
That someone sees these scars-
and actually wants for me true healing.
See, all of these are ways-
of which I truly thought he felt.
And that leaves me conflicted-
in lieu of all pain he's dealt.
Again, nobody's perfect-
were only human after all.
But how could someone love so much-
then motionlessly, watch me fall?
The thought of you leaving me scares me day after day
It haunts me and kills me in my dreams at night, when I am alone inside of my head and no one can pull my hand towards them to save me
Every morning I wake up, and I picture you doing the same in your own room, just a block away
Stretching and yawning, so you fingertips are straightened out and extending towards the pale, white color of your bedroom ceiling that I know so well
And I can hear the voice inside of your head whispering to you while you are still half asleep and naïve to your conscience
It speaks out to you and tells you about me while it wraps its thread of doubt around your brain
Twisting and tangling itself into the depths of your soul
Your eyes will be opened up by the hand reaching out from inside of you
And from them I fear that you will be exposed to all of the faults that others find in me
All of my flaws and imperfections will be laid out waiting to be held under your inspection
Row after row on an endless table with a rough, wooden surface that causes splinters
The object in your grasp will now be my confidence rather than my shaking hand, that is only still when I am with you
Because once I did not know what love was, and neither did you
I taught you, and you taught me
And I have loved you in every way that I have ever known
So if this rarity of my existence is lost and thrown away
I will end up the same
As you quicken your pace in the direction of the sun I will crawl towards an unknown darkness
You will run
Far, far, far
Away from us and the memories we have made
While I am here where you left me
In a void that can only be filled by you
The love that I can no longer have will take hold of me
It will grab my throat with its clammy hands and strangle me
Suffocate me
Until I fall from lack of air and land in a pile of heartbreak and ruins
And I hope that one day you will find me here with tear stains on my cheeks and fingerprints on my neck
I hope that on that day you will cry and hurt and bleed over me and what you have done
I hope that you will love me again for all that is left of me
Or right now, on this day, and every day that comes
You will learn to love me for who I am
Or I will learn to leave you (and it is hard to leave you, trust me)
Form: