Long Scathe Poems
Long Scathe Poems. Below are the most popular long Scathe by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scathe poems by poem length and keyword.
Written: March 28, 2024 For Edward Ibeh Contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It is a myth that time cures any wound,
It is merely what people say and sound.
When the wound was simply skin-wide,
No reply may occur due to decay sighed.
Oh, suffering of not being able to die or live.
Such a wounded sigh to endure and strive.
Feeling numb and wounded, sighs escape.
My heart churns—overwhelmed by a scrape.
Pebbles embed in my brain cortex.
Amorphous swirls provide a raw vortex.
Oh, suffering of not being able to die or live.
Such a wounded sigh to endure and strive.
Assessing a child's stomach on baking day,
Those smitten by love share anguish and decay.
Fail to express love or even heart grief.
Charmed in a state of anguish and relief.
Oh, suffering of not being able to die or live.
Such a wounded sigh to endure and strive.
I perceive kismet as a formidable antagonist,
One could not despise his rival or protagonist.
That amazes everyone—upon slaughtering me,
Who slain me, or who carried out such butchery?
Oh, suffering of not being able to die or live,
Such a wounded sigh to endure and strive.
Let's devote the night to the wounded.
Their bodies are battered—rise to be subtruded.
Whispered to no one, cleanse of their scars.
Wounded sigh in killer room as dusk dew parse.
Oh, suffering of not being able to die or live.
Such a wounded sigh to endure and strive.
Those who have been wounded by his arrow,
Those who were scathe sob in love, thrill shadow.
Wriggle on the rug with love and reverence.
Heal wounds themselves, hurting its severance.
Oh, suffering of not being able to die or live.
Such a wounded sigh to endure and strive.
Head over to celebrate with them tonight.
Love may seem corrupted—they cry fake sight.
If they shed fake tears—their love isn't divine.
Believers never act wildly or display mood signs.
The sun shines bright on the valley of my heart.
Where once innocence thrived, now torn apart,
Betrayed by those I whim I could trust,
Left alone and lonesome, consumed by unjust.
But in the midst of the darkness, I find a flicker of hope.
A ray of light that helps me to cope,
With the pain and scathe that I feel inside,
A reminder that I have the strength to stride.
I walk through the valley with tears in my eyes.
But I realize that I'll reach it; I'll rise above the lies.
I am strong and I am brave.
And I won't let my heart be a slave.
So I face the future with a sense of determination.
To rebuild my life and my reputation,
To find fresh love and true joy,
And leave behind the valley of my heart's destroy.
We all have many fragile parts
and life throws many sharp honed darts.
Do you find comfort when pain hits its mark,
inside the blackest of your dark?
Is there someone who would hold you
should you abruptly fall apart?
Is there someone in your life who is
truly invested in your heart?
Pain and joy are same hand deal
both have rope to claim us all.
Some pain we cannot conceal.
We need arms as a healing shawl.
Even the strongest in faith
may break from all life takes.
We will all bear pains that scathe.
Healings are what love can make.
Is there someone you could hold
should they fall apart?
Is there someone who believes
you are invested in their heart?
How do I acquire a place where I can forgive?
How can I stop blaming myself for my mistakes?
I can't recall the version of "Intrinsic", but it's conflictive,
None can quash them If you can't forgive rattlesnakes.
It's difficult to forgive wrongdoers who won't swage,
It's cruel to excuse inner suffering from a rapist's rage,
It's difficult to grace louts who have killed your family,
Spirits will not retaliate but can whip you clearly.
No, I'm not a saint; failure is not the same as forgiveness.,
That doesn't refer I must trust or favor the chorus,
He seems angel but he throws his seat through the window,
He is tiled with a shabby female tattoo on his elbow.
I felt vulgar, stupid, and useless,
Close to the leech and slimy worm, that's sageness,
Every smile contains a malicious chart, so I lack faith,
I endure on wobbly legs, wiping away tears and scathe.
How can I resist the urge to do things right?
Some people mind me a skeptic. My kids guess I'm bright,
In fact, they suppose I'm an incredible winner,
If they view suffering, it will improve my manner.
No one understands what I endure,
I am not in a position to reveal such rancor,
I'm tired of seeing and living a shabby life,
I wanted a widely used headline in some rife.
The tombs of our ancestors are everywhere,
Earth's soil is the body's dust, walk lento, and care,
The suffering of death is greater than the joy of birth,
O cooing doves bestow to the weeping, some mirth.
Some actions are held liable, but none are shrewd,
Every devout soul has a past, and every deceiver is lewd,
Who can you forgive if not the toughest opponent?
You are fully ungrown with this Atonement.
The blast radius of your grief can harm the soul,
What if the people around you are shown a rays hole?
What if you cling to someone else's roots to be injured?
It all begins with a runic visceral fear of the biohazard.
I select my destiny and discover myself,
Say farewell to my harsh youth with purity and pelf,
Today I saw the opposite of what you taught me,
I also forgive you for everything before I flee.
1st Place Contest Win.
Written: June 25, 2022
Forgiveness Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Written: May 14, 2023
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your dewdrops are bedazzling on dunes,
Hides enticing sparks so haphazardly fumes.
Your eyes, akin to honey, exude an inner charm,
Love embraced your fragility with supple calm.
My love, time has tainted your obsession,
Captivating every pulse is magnetic affection.
Your aesthetic evokes divine Greek magic,
Dazzling draws blithely on peaks, ecstatic.
Enduring aromas soothe my random fondness,
Pushily puzzled by odd bond built by oddness.
Magic is real yet scary as seconds tick by.
Fear incites harm as sharp shards cry.
Prayers to all those trapped in this maze.
No one is or is meant to be scathe or graze.
Mist emitted by crashing waves may stay.
"It is only me," I whisper as tears of hope dry.
Oceanic
sight awful shudder
haunt;
media echoing news;
Poverty sad sad
view....
Begging for some
mercy and food to
eat;
Rags and filth ~
children on street;
Is this what we
gave?! STOP!
Rain bullets and
bombs clouding the
heavens;
Scathe canopy
'causing fear;
Is this what we
gave?! STOP!
Black and blue polka
dots pattern
scattered;
Zigzag drumbeat
beatings hurt;
Is this what we
gave?! STOP!
Hobnob campaign
rapport on
elections;
Blind eyes ¬ deaf
ears corruption;
Is this what we
gave?! STOP!
our earths' lifeline
continuum decline;
widespread worldwide
pollution ;
Is this what we
gave?! STOP!
Collapsing to brain
drain thoughts,
hearts and soul;
Spread wings push
down poverty;
Set mind! Strive
hard! Act now!
YES, WE can MAKE
this EARTH a BETTER
PLACE!
Life legacy beyond
years.
Come one! Come
all! START SOON!
(c) Olive Eloisa
4:17pm
July 03, 2014
Sponsor Sheri
Fresonke Harper
Contest Name What I
Gave
2nd place, to God be
the glory.. :)
Words, they say, are a powerful tool
To share thoughts and express emotions.
Instances, there are, when they are less potent,
In moments spent in meaningful silence.
When understanding life is taking a toll,
Direly confusing and overwhelming,
A minute of solitude will calm the soul,
And escape the noise, often troubling.
When tempers soar, anger flares,
When utterances cut deep within,
Trading no speeches, nor even a stare;
Is a fire doused by water, resembling.
When an idea shared is taken for granted,
Like a wind passing, no bearing, no weight,
Wisdom dictates that dignity be protected;
To keep mum is a clever sleight.
When the soul seems to go astray
And wanders an unfamiliar path,
A quietude may help find the way,
And heal all personal scathe.
When we dream of faraway places and peeps, in leaps of faith, we’d never think of the reality of those who’d scathe—Poetess
Always darling, is dulling,
d
r
e
a
m d e e p l y
There once was a time I was an Anglophile
Once I wished I were an Hibernophile
I simply cannot relate
to those with a snubbers hate
Here’s to American nostalgia and its style!
The heavens,
Of reaching them, have I set my aim
In their essence do I dwell
From their roots do I originate
And in them,
Lies my heart!
Yet, I shall renounce of them
Shall it be
That the whispers of the night
Scathe me!
I shall renounce of them
As, how am I to enjoy them
If I shall have to enjoy their
Thousands of moons
All alone?
I shall renounce,
Even if such shall hurt the Gods
I shall renounce,
As my cause remains that of love,
Love which have been paved
Here, in a realm which makes the purity
Of its bond even more difficult
Love, which has its meaning in the stars
Love, on which relies the cosmos
To keep its beating heart on!
Pray,
After all,
I did choose to fall for the sake of this love
I did choose to fall on an Earth
Which laughs at the misery of its children
I did choose to fall
Merely because the love willed to me
Clawed at my heart, tearing it into tiny pieces!
Being happy requires being selfish
In my selfishness
I choose to renounce of the heavens
Even if such would require
That my soul ceases to be!
Why, I remain, here
A puppet dancing to the tunes of fate
I remain, here
A being whose life belongs not to her
I remain, here,
As seaweed, drifting at sea
Pulled by the tides,
Or wilting on the shores
As long as I remain of use to those powers
Watching over me!
But the pain is getting harsher,
And harsher
As if it were the dagger of gloom
Pleasuring itself in plunging into the
Softest parts of my mortal body
Laughing at the blood being drawn from it
Enjoying my tears
And my despair!
It is all a matter of time
It is just one life
I shall have not another
The heavens,
Of the hope they give do I
Build my strength
But I shall renounce them
If such would be required!
Up near the peak of Rockies,
Me and my limbs live in frigid cold,
The mountain seems to be frozen in time,
Being a petrified tree, I am frozen in stone.
As I ascended to the heavens,
I had to leave my earthly leaves behind,
I could have been a towering blue spruce in the valley,
Up here I am a diminutive figure amongst towering peaks.
The seasons change without changing my mood,
The fall does not mean anything for my bare limbs,
The winter snow and avalanche do not shiver my rocky bones,
The spring bloom brightens the valley but leaves me for dead stone.
When I have achieved such a high perfection,
The clouds and lighting can hardly scathe my tranquil position,
My soul has achieved its golden ambition,
I love being petrified as nothing can change my imagination.