Long Secrecy Poems
Long Secrecy Poems. Below are the most popular long Secrecy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Secrecy poems by poem length and keyword.
Who is that brave and noble one I have heard so much about? I saw you standing right next to him in a newspaper report about him. Do you know his agenda, his intentions, and his mission? Where is he, from where did he ascend, and to where is he going? I have heard that he fears neither man nor beast, but has great respect for 'Laws'. Clouds of doom, fear, and gloom hang over our world. So take me to your leader.
I sense that the quest for unity of the 'citizens of the world' is abolishing 'Soveignties'. May our prayers ascend to heaven and may God free us from so many inequities, boiling pots of greed, overflowing pools of political corruption, debaucheries that permeate the atmosphere, and human behavior that's becoming too toxic for habitation. One sign of a good man is that he views constitutions and laws as instruments of sacredness. Evil men loathe laws, and perceiving them as restrictive, change or abolish them at will. I would be so honored to meet and dine with a good man or woman.
So please take me to your leader.
There is so much I need to know about him. So I hope that you have not been sworn to secrecy. He gives all appearance of a giant of a man who longs to be at peace. I have heard that he believes in freedom, justice, and prosperity for all. I have heard he's a good seed, has no greed, and cannot be bought or sold. I have heard that you are close to him, giving him counsel and godly wisdom. It is said of him that he bravely revisits history without becoming a revisionist. The future shall be paved with those who are unafraid of neither today nor yesterday. It seems our world is spent and spineless, and in such demand for true leadership. So take me to your leader.
You are a dear friend of mine, kind and true. So I beg of you, take me to your leader. He need not be grandiose or a wearer of haloes, nor superhuman or unusually charismatic. He need not raise the dead nor walk on water, but perhaps he knows the one who does. Perhaps his ears, eyes, and heart are opened to genuineness and tightly closed to hypocrisy. Perhaps he holds secrets whose revealing time has come, so please take me to your leader.
08042018PSContest, Take Me To Your Leader, Caren Krutsinger, 1stPl.
Once upon a time there lived,
A beautiful girl and a man she loved.
So true was such their love,
There wasn't anyone who disapproved.
It had been love at first sight,
A fairy tale since that day.
The maiden had found the man of her dreams,
No one else needed to have a say.
They had done it all,
Candlelight dinners, shyly holding hands,
Kissing in the rain, dancing around trees,
Leaving intertwined footprints on white sands.
But it wasn't just another love story,
It was uniquely special like every other one.
They had eyes for no other but one another,
The best part of their lives had just begun.
They traveled around the world,
And she kissed her man at the seven wonders each.
People would smile at the storybook couple,
As they counted stars standing on a beach.
With her, he was the man he wished to be,
The one who wouldn't think twice,
About pulling her up to dance in a crowded train,
He'd protect her, keep her happy at any price.
He'd see through her weak smile,
All the way to the tears inside,
He'd whisper sweet things in her ear,
Hold her till all the tears dried.
Though they did have a fair share of problems,
They always came together again,
No matter what happened,
Like raindrops on a window pane.
On a rainy day, she had sat waiting,
Wondering about the surprise he had promised,
But he never came,
For the winds of fate had suddenly changed.
Five years after that day, she found herself alone,
Sitting on the porch, counting stars on her own,
As she recalled the day he had been taken from her,
'An unfortunate accident' on the next the papers had shown.
She hadn't cried on the phone, she hadn't cried on the way,
She didn't even cry when she had to identify him,
Not a single tear or a heartrending sob.
She just stared ahead with an expression so grim.
It was only when she had received his belongings,
The remnants of his last minutes, did she react.
She screamt and cried, laughed and wailed,
For among others, was a diamond ring beautifully packed.
His surprise, the laughter in his voice,
The excitement, the secrecy of the evening.
He had been right, it had left her breathless,
But he wasn't there to see the sorrow it did bring.
Even now her eyes brimmed with tears,
As she looked at the ring as it sparkled,
And thought of that time when there lived,
A beautiful girl and a man she loved.
- Miliya Parveen
III.
But I had a much higher purpose now,
damned or not, I would serve the True God,
for thirty years I served with my brothers,
upon a humble path I faithfully trod.
Maybe I wasn’t a miracle worker,
though I saved lost pilgrims in my time,
age etched lines in my brothers’ faces,
but it had no effect upon mine.
The abbot swore newcomers to secrecy
about the truth of my vampiric fate,
and I guess I believed I’d just go on
serving an eternity in this way.
But one day as the sun started to set,
I looked out upon a terrible sight:
A small girl running, screaming in fear
as a wolf closed on in for a bite.
I hesitated for just a moment,
the sun was high enough that I would burn,
but the terrified cries of a five-year old
were not something from which I could turn.
I sprinted out with unnatural speed,
instantly my skin erupted in flames,
raced past the girl, thrust my burning hand
to the wolf with jaws of snapping rage.
The fire seared both myself and the beast,
with frantic yelps of pain he then ran off,
I staggered back, my pale skin burned to black,
bits of flesh had flaked off and were lost.
I made it back to the small gatehouse
and I collapsed in the shadows within,
the abbot ran close, with my fading strength
I weakly tried to say goodbye to him.
But he just looked down, said,”We need blood.
Run to the chapel and fetch me the wine!”
A brother raced off, returned with the jug,
made no sense to my greatly pained mind.
He filled a chalice, look to the Heavens,
said,”Lord, I know that I am no priest.
But if he must die, let him drink of Your blood,
let him take part at last in Your mercy.”
I felt this would be a fitting way to die,
burned by the holy blood of my Lord.
But when I drank I did not feel the fire,
in fact I didn’t feel pain anymore!
I didn’t see it myself, but they say
that the charred skin beat a fast retreat,
and through the haze I managed to feel
a deep breath and a steady heart-beat!
When I sat up the sun came through a window
and it fell harmlessly upon my skin,
I felt true hunger, thirty years overdue,
by His power I once more was human!
They said In Him All Things Are Possible,
and I suppose I am the living truth,
strangest of all I still looked a young man,
blessed with the power and passion of youth...
CONCLUDES IN PART IV.
I walked outside in the scorching heat moving papers and turning over pages just looking for that one line that goes back to the middle ages. The search was long, the documents were strong and the paragraph sits at the bottom with the exact words about the controversial land. Moses was deceased, Joshua was bequeathed and mimiram joined the crew when her leprosy
came through.
I traveled to Vatican City to view the writing form the thirteenth century there were piles and piles of them standing in a row but I had nowhere to go and I could not move any of them.
I had to view them with a magnifying glass or the whole thing would have fallen apart .I walked along the Vatican city underground and there were museums all around with documents that goes back to the creation of the earth but they were all sealed up in dirt.
Something caught my eyes from the back and I continue to move my eyeball over the lines to see what historical data I could find. I just wanted to fit the pieces together until I could uncover the secrecy, and just when I thought my long search was done a cockroach crawl up from the corner and there it was staring at me, the very line that illustrate my dignity. A thousand cameras pointed at me from every angle, I could not touch or move a thing until the vessel I had memorized the plaintiff hymn.
The Priest kept juggling on the floor and the Roman soldiers keep asking for more, the theater was where it all began with a harp a violin and a harmonica riding on the gondola and singing a song. They were all playing for me as the discovery breaks the bonds of history to uncover an age-old mystery, the authentic crowd docked on the other side while I continue to hold up my pride and the gondola drift.
I try to fit the piece together so I went on a hurricane ride and landed in Peru and made my way to the city of Cuzco to connect the dots and explore the salt mine of maras and when I got what I wanted I made my way to France and visit the Mount Blanc and made a bond with Eifel tower. When the research was over, I clocked in nine hundred million dollars for a Zig Zag line and a marking on a cave that was divine.
And so the evidence was right in front of me to prove the murder in the first degree and a global fraud in the second degree. You must make haste and come and see me.
CAGED BIRD SINGS
I’ve not talked about these things to tell
Because I’m sworn to secrecy of sorts
You’ve heard the tales and read the books
Know what happens if you break the rules
Well today I’m here crossing the “I double-dawg-dare you” line
Father shows his love for me while he creeps in my room at night
Years go by how did I know my memory would go dark
Bird
Child, was I, voice not yet my own
Innocence stripped, beginning at home
Sense of self seemingly washed away with the whack of a hand
Whose does it belong to this time
Oh I know let’s count the welts…she wins
Mother’s hand lay wrapped around the extension cord, today
Yes, her expression of love for me again in a special way
Beaten into submission of silence and stillness
Emotions continue retreating inward
Caged
Child, was I, voice not yet my own
Was this to be my life one of quiet and still
Not so any one would know for years to come
Shattered youth burned from the inside out with pain
Yet, I walk, skip and play with a grin and a laugh
Laughter covering up so much for so many
How long can the bandage stretch
Can it hold up much longer
Edges frayed, torn and splintered from years of abuse
Completely falling apart was not an option, not so anyone can see
Who do you tell when you know not what to do
What do you do when you know not what to say
How can you say it when you have a voice but dare not speak
Caged Bird
Child, no longer I, voice not yet to call my own
Going through life with a laugh and a smile
Knowing something is not right but not knowing
Every corner darkness seems to lurk nearby
Cannot breathe because of the heaviness upon my chest
Life has not been my own, others in control
Body staying while mind wanting to be set free
Feeling trapped, scared and alone, so escapes I would try
Key
Wounded from all the hurt, leaving behind scars not all remedied with topical cream
Continually battling life as if in front of a camera
Sleep, sleep, crave for peaceful sleep
Give back the restful nights stolen away
Thieves in the night my parents and others
Walked into my life, stole pieces of me
Attempted to leave me for dead
Failed each time because I am a SURVIVOR
Child, no longer am I, voice found and being released
Voice singing words of truth once not able to speak
Caged Bird Sings
Form:
It was the summer of 1938 when the whisper of fate broke through the airless
night,
And two curious children got to their feet the little girl knew something was not
right.
Little Jack the baby, stood in the middle of the room, the dirt floor cool on his bare
feet,
his sister did not stand, but walked over to the screen door unmindful of the
Texas heat.
Who told the girl what happened? Could it be that angles spoke softly in her
small ear?
She looked at her little brother Jack, and told him what she knew, in her voice
was no fear.
“It’s daddy you know, he’s not coming back Jackie” she said in a quietly hushed
tone.
Little Jack was so young, and he didn’t understand. But daddy, he never did
come home.
Their mother you see neither one can truly recall, maybe for them she never
really was,
She walked through their lives on a stage of drama never doing the things a
mother does.
But they remember the rainy day in a town that is now gone, when daddy was laid
to rest,
Their mother you see showed up late, in a new car and wearing her brand new
Sunday best.
The Two though they went on, as children do. The little girl mothering her little
brother Jack.
So small and alone, they looked for food in the trash the little girl with her brother
on her back.
Mother was there somewhere, laughing in the dark secrecy, loving what men
could provide.
The children to her became baggage, inconvenient, a hindrance that she just
could not abide.
Some in the town began to take pity, watching the rag dolls as they walked
through the street,
When evening fell the town went home, so did the Two in their frayed clothes and
bare little feet.
But time can bring sweet escape, and that came to the Two through the blessing
of a new life,
It was their fate not to grow up together, one knowing peace the other life colored
with strife.
But the Two would meet through out the years for their destiny is intertwined in
blood and history,
Time marched on and as they now age they share in each others lives, a lasting
bond and mystery.
She can no longer carry Jack on her back, but she has always carried him in her
heart and mind,
And to Jack, his sister has always been more than words can explain, more than
most will ever find.
Form:
Hers was a complete change of personality, moods, and friends
Her joyful happy self, turned rapidly sarcastic, mean, and secretive
Her eating habits changed; she did not need food any more.
Stopped eating with the family, painted her room black.
Threw her flute into the garbage. She had outgrown it.
Scoffed that she had ever been a cheerleader, calling them names.
Her friends stopped coming. She made new ones, they were in and out.
None stayed long. Just a few minutes.
Her family saw glimpses of her unhappiness as she ran in and out
Of her room, slamming doors, playing music, not doing her homework.
Her A’s and B’s nosedived into D’s and F’s, and she laughed about it.
Rapid distrust toward her siblings. Name-calling, which had never happened.
Stopped going to school until it was nigh onto impossible to keep up.
Sneaked out of the house at night; they never knew where she would be.
Left in cars with people she did not know. Parents blamed her friends.
It was their fault, not hers. She was their princess. She was perfect.
Secrecy became the norm. Her laughter became loud and ugly.
Her prettiness was gone; her hair was dingy. She stopped wearing deodorant.
Grandparents wondered where she was at Thanksgiving and Christmas.
They were given many lies from parents and her siblings. Everyone covering.
Not my child! They said when the possible truths were pointed out.
That does not happen in our neighborhood.
We are not that kind of parent.
Our child would never be an alcoholic or a drug addict.
The entire family circled the wagons,
refusing to join neighborhood barbeques.
The children were taught that the people at church
were do-gooders, and look-downers.
The children were taught that the neighbors
they once adored were now the enemy.
They were protecting the princess,
who seldom came home, sneaking in and out,
When they were asleep. Not in our family! They said. Not in our family!
The do-gooders and down-lookers were prominent at her funeral.
They had raised children also who had been lured into
the terrifying swallow-up world of drugs and alcohol.
They had so many stories; horrifying real life stories
they had never shared even though they had innumerable
opportunities at church functions and bar-b-ques.
A mind inquisitive will find
while looking out upon the world
that myriads of whys unwind
from raveled webs in queries whirled
by skies above and realms below.
There’s always more than we can know.
If contemplating mysteries
of life’s existence here in space
along with astro-histories
within our cosmical embrace,
the awe one feels will surely show.
There’s always more than we can know.
In famous drama by the Bard,
where Ghost is spotted ‘wondrous strange‘
by castle sentries standing guard,
mid ‘sworn to secrecy’ exchange,
says Hamlet to Horatio,
‘There’s more than you can dream to know
‘on earth in heaven, countless things
in your philosophy not taught.’
(And so begin misfortune’s slings.)
To summarize his gist of thought
in passage ever apropos:
There’s always more than we can know.
Some think that memorizing facts,
despite their changing through the years
as seen in how mankind reacts
when ruled by prejudice and fears,
amounts to understanding, though
there’s always more than we can know.
The gladiola in delight
will bloom as forces lure her on.
Bright stars o’er-sprinkle dark of night
but fade from sight with breaking dawn.
Thus Nature’s cycles come and go.
Yet there’s much more that we can know.
Vast marvels may await our gaze
beyond imagination’s ken
by polishing away the haze
to clear enlightened vision, then
shall fountains of deep wisdom flow…
There’s always more than we can know!
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
“The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existence. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery each day.”
~ Albert Einstein ~ ”Old Man’s Advice to Youth: ‘Never Lose a Holy Curiosity’” LIFE Magazine (2 May 1955) p. 64…
The poem is written in verse, having stanzas with refrain…
Inspiration was derived from various passages from The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, by William Shakespeare, in particular the following…
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
~ William Shakespeare, Hamlet Act 1, scene 5, 159–167
Strange nights, starry eyes
a little something to keep me going
no I don't lack in surprise
or modesty
and yet if honesty was a commodity
I'd surely be rich and living it up
or dead in a ditch for never giving it up
and you just don't quit
pry away the drink from my hands
and take a sip
never seen anyone
bite anything
the way that you bite on your lip
I don't know what you're looking for
but you won't find it in me
a compliment, a shred of decency
a night of thrills and secrecy
a shoulder to cry on
or just something to ride on
no, you won't find it in me
Got no money, no worries
don't sell drugs
never felt the need
not a pick me up
or shake you down
nothing changes when I'm around
no I don't want you
and you don't want me
Living life like a grazed knee
the pain is always there it stings
something always has to rub up on me
so if another stained garment
is what you want to be then, darling
pick away at my layers
I can never seem to heal
but I go on like nothing hurts me
and it could be worse
you could be just another verse in my poetry
and the night isn't over yet but
you've just about heard enough I bet
I don't know what you're looking for
but you won't find it in me
a friend for the night, a happy ending
a story to tell your girls, a heart for mending
someone to rely on
or just something to ride on
no, you won't find it in me
Got no money, no worries
don't sell drugs
never felt the need
not a pick me up
or shake you down
nothing changes when I'm around
no I don't want you
and you don't want me
Still relentless in your advances
but I can't take any chances
I'm susceptible to heartbreak
why do you think I'm sat here drinking alone?
unlike you I haven't looked down at a phone
I've no one to call, I've nowhere to be
if you're wanting a simpleton that's not me
I'm not offering late night comfort calls
I don't even own a settee
are you my therapist now?
too many questions are detrimental to trust
and I think you've just about heard enough
I don't know what you're looking for
but you won't find it in me
won't pick you up, won't shake you down
won't show you a good time and stick around
I'm not your wings to fly on
or just something to ride on
no, you won't find it in me
Both of their eyes locked hard on one another.
The sheriff needed to talk with this grieving, vengeful brother.
"Have a seat and a drink with me," the sheriff said to him.
"I need to explain to you what actually happened,
but before I reveal anything to you
I need your word that this stays between me and you.
If word of this gets out your brother is as good as dead."
The brother paused for a moment and then he said,
"You killed my brother," he said fighting not to cry.
"No I didn't," responded the sheriff, "He's still alive.
I killed the wrong man and claimed it was him.
Your brother is on the run, but he's still living.
All the residents of Fort Sumner are in compliance with me.
They don't want to see your brother get caught or killed
so they've sworn themselves to secrecy
and have all signed affidavits certifying that the body
buried at Fort Sumner is your brother. Your brother is deceased officially.
This is your brother's last opportunity
to go underground and live his life more meaningfully.
He has agreed to go
to Old Mexico
and leave his beloved country
where he was loved so
by all who would know
the company of he.
Before he left though he gave to me
this letter for his brother Joe to read."
The sheriff handed him the letter, shook his hand and left.
Joe opened the letter and this is what it read.
"My Dear Brother Joe,
I am still alive.
Don't believe everything those newspapers write and contrive.
It's so very difficult to let you all go
but I'm starting my life anew in Old Mexico.
Please know that loving thoughts of you will always be with me.
Forever your brother,
William H Bonney"
The above is a fictional write that I did.
Sheriff Pat Garrett did kill Billy The Kid.
Joseph Antrim was Billy the Kid's brother
and both he and Sheriff Pat Garrett did encounter each other.
When Joseph was approached and asked what Garrett said to him,
Joseph would always simply respond, "He explained to me what happened."
This coming from a man who once lost in his grieving plight
swore that if he ever encountered Sheriff Pat Garrett he would unmercifully kill him on sight,
but who knows, a loud mouth coward may have been Joe,
but I prefer the above pure fictional scenario.
In any event, we'll never know.