Long Self centered Poems
Long Self centered Poems. Below are the most popular long Self centered by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Self centered poems by poem length and keyword.
like season like humans
trust is earn not easy
any more
either are people too honest
anymore this days
is not easy when despite
all the friends one got
one way or the other
when serious life issues
arises
at the end of the day
you could be shocked
to realise you are alone
cos is hard and scarce
when you are just depending
on human to sort out
your? needs in times needed
like season like humans
people are like chameleon
nowadays
it doesn't matter who
is it
it could be anyone
anyone could disappoint you
in times needed
anyone could shut you down
at the time in need
so dont trust on human beings
instead believe more in yourself
if you can't
believe in destiny
life of nowadays are shocking
people are no longer
committed to trust
they are more or less
selfish and self centered
so when you trust
be warned
like season like humans
beware of trust cos
humans change in season
it hurt when you sacrifice
all your life for the sake
of your poeple
to realise that same poeple
could betray you
without thinking twice
it is painful when the
poeple you believed in
can be the reason for
your pain and crys
is not a bad thing to trust
but is better to trust
the right people
who is the right ones?
where are they found?
yet i hope everyone
finds those to trust.
Lord Jesus uttered in unbearable pain
‘May God forgive these adamant people
unaware of their guilt, mostly insane.’
That’s the spirit of a graceful holy heart.
Me basically, kind-hearted, and soft minded persona
feeling intense urge to respond prompt
at need of person in misery.
Instantaneously I act and become ready
to lend a helping hand expecting no return.
Soul reacts spontaneous and unbiased.
Kindness is basic realisation
to sense and feel pain of one another.
Self-centered person does never bother.
Kindness builds up right civilization.
I believe in power of kindness
But in cases of malice, offences, wickedness, tortures,
I feel no pity, but wish to punish tormentor, not to forgive.
power of kindness
to apply not supporting
an offence or crime
In the silent garden where the spirit resides,
Grow shadows of ego, where true light hides.
Not soldiers in armor, nor cannons’ loud boom,
But whispers of self-importance fill the room.
They rise from within, a fog in the mind,
Leaving compassion and empathy behind.
The paths are neglected, the flowers don’t bloom,
As the ego-shadows cast a pervasive gloom.
The First Shadow, a monument, tall and grand,
Demands all attention throughout the whole land.
It speaks in the voice of “I am, and I know,”
Ignoring the wisdom that others can show.
Its roots are deep-seated in fear and in pride,
Pushing all kindness and humility aside.
It sees every challenge as a battle to win,
A solitary fortress, where no one gets in.
The Second Shadow, a mirror, polished and bright,
Reflects only the self in its limited light.
It measures its worth by the external gaze,
Lost in a labyrinth of self-centered haze.
It craves admiration, applause, and acclaim,
Feeding a hunger that whispers its name.
It twists every moment to serve its own need,
A garden choked over with a self-serving weed.
The Third Shadow, a mountain, unyielding and steep,
Holds onto its grievances, buried and deep.
It builds up defenses of judgment and blame,
Protecting an image, a delicate flame.
It sees the world through a lens of its own,
A seed of resentment, persistently sown.
It struggles for power, for control, and for might,
Lost in the darkness, avoiding the light.
These shadows entwining, a tangled-up vine,
Choking the growth of the truly divine.
They drain the life force, they wither and fade,
The potential for beauty, a vibrant parade.
They dance in the twilight, unseen and unheard,
Their power diminished by a single kind word.
But notice the sunbeam, a delicate gleam,
Piercing the darkness, a hopeful, soft stream.
For even the deepest of shadows can cease,
When the light of awareness brings solace and peace.
The garden can flourish, the ego can cease its reign,
And the self finds connection, again and again.
A stranger lifted me up today
While I was lost in my own self-centered universe,
Silently crying about nobody else reading, commenting or caring
About anything I’ve said,
Considering myself poetically dead.
I’ve been more concerned with the encroaching materialistic
Responsibilities, requirements and concerns of living
Instead of turning my attentions outward towards others
And lifting myself out of this whirl pool of self-pity
Into the ocean of giving.
When to my wondrous delight dark turned to light
As out of seemingly nowhere a fellow poet spoke gently and composed:
“Your poetry is like the softness of a country rose.”
And while I know not where she lives and breathes
This furtherance of feeling was shared with me:
“I too am blue as sky is gray and nothing more will do today
Except ethereal connections are how we poets play.”
I was more than moved, to say the least
How this gypsy out of cyber space
Renewed my poetic vow:
To speak the truth simple, plain and clear
As I know how.
And how
My words and hers connected
Through the vacuum of space and time
Is a story for another day and rhyme.
Until then, I stand transformed
By those few words she engendered –
And would give anything to tell her
How sweet and kind her words were rendered.
Magna Carta
Charter that determined
the King does Not
have absolute power
for he may not reign at his own
self-centered whim, nae!
much of his authority must be
siphoned off
Relinquished to
Earls, Lords, Barons, Bishops
Knights no longer must blindly obey
The king and his subjects convened on the
dewy emerald green meadows
Of Runnymede
King John was compelled to sign the Magna Carta
With one voice they deemed of him a tyrant
At his nadir, weakest point
No longer an absolute Monarch
Enraged were the
English Kings
so, that after John
no member
of the royal family
has been
Christened John eversince
This shall not be forgotten
During
King
's r
n e
h i
o g
J n
The Sheriff of Nottingham’s Nemesis is
R O B I N H O O D :)
As I close my eyes to sleep
I realize it’s been a while since
I called your name above
To feel your holy presence
And feel you near
It’s been a while since I’ve said a prayer
I have to chuckle when I think
How vain some may be
To think all you do day and night
Is sit on your almighty throne
And wait for their prayers and wishes
Of course you’re out there
Though it’s been a while since I checked in
‘Cause I know you’ve got far bigger plans
Above human self-centered pettiness
Lord, I do believe you hear
Those who ask for strength
To make this world a better place
Lord, you put me here for a reason
I’m on earth with a special mission
And for this, Lord, I ask for courage
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
PS featured in 2018
We’re on Fall break this week and Peter’s favorite aunt - Lita - is visiting. Lita’s a tall, slim woman (eek! A guess), in her early sixties. She’s nicely weathered and tan. I’m sure she once had Peter’s blue-black hair but now it’s mostly white and styled in a loose braid. I think she rocks the coastal grandma aesthetic with a wardrobe of mostly pale tans, whites and flats.
Peter has all kinds of stories about her - she’s a character. When Peter was 5, on Halloween, Lita pretended to sacrifice a chicken, cackling, like a witch. He was wide-eyed until she admitted she was just making fried chicken for dinner.
Lita lives on property adjacent to Peter’s parents, but hers is larger, more of a farm, where she raises chickens and grows Meyer-lemons and persimmons. This may explain why Peter slices up lemons, dips them in sugar and eats them like oranges (I shiver). Peter told me that Lita always liked fruit, which is why she bought Apple stock in 1997.
From what I’ve learned, talking to Lita, she practically raised Peter’s dad (David). Their parents had a boy before her, an older brother she doesn’t remember meeting because he drowned at a church outing when she was a toddler. Their parents, in their grief, had turned in on themselves, becoming as self-centered as gyroscopes.
They’d left Lita by herself for weeks at a time, to raise herself on a more-or-less trial-and-error basis. So, when David came along 13 years later, he became her responsibility. She started working as an auto mechanic and eventually opened a couple of shops of her own. She describes herself as more well-read than formally educated - as if knowledge had just settled on her, like dust from an old library.
“Teressa (Peter’s mom) is very curious about you,” Lita confides to me as we huddle together over venti pumpkin lattes, “Peter’s very tight-lipped where you’re concerned.”
“He is?” I ask, confused, “maybe he’s ashamed,” I venture, “or maybe he’s planning to dump me?” Lita looks amused, ”uh huh, that’s probably IT,” she agrees.
“Look! I say excitedly, pulling an envelope from my purse, “It’s my first-ever paycheck,” I beam. I make a production of opening the thing, like an Oscar envelope. “$223,” I read, shaking my head in admiration, then adding, with sincere sounding hyperbole, ”he can’t dump me NOW, I’m RICH!”
The educational forest has thickened
I can't see the forest from the trees,
are they Republican or Democrat?
voices once spoke out without a doubt
a lost message loud and clear for change,
those voices have since been silenced
by the onslaught of time and age, untempered truths.
Who speaks now?
Is it only the loudest voices
shouting bullies and the braggarts
who wave and aggrandized their failures as achievements,
the gray men staunch in their self-centered ways
unwinding progress and holding time hostage
to the dreams and successes of yesterday,
the future of possibilities.
These are the times that try men's souls
looking back and tossing out the compromise
of a warring world seeking peace and conjoined hands
where power-hungry individuals take charge not to lead
but to satisfy, enrich and praise themselves above all others;
one giant step for the political bureaucracy
no small steps for the average man.
America is better than this.
The U.S.A. Has Lost its Way
By Franklin Price
4/6/2017
The U.S.A. has lost its way
Founders rolling in their graves
Self centered governmental acts
In devastating tidal waves
No cooperation now
The party lines prevail
Some actions are not legal
Why are they not in jail?
Don't care what the people want
Care less for what they need
There for the recognition
And to satisfy their greed
It was not for their riches
They were voted to their seats
Was to care for all the citizens
Provide jobs and food to eat
Repair the infrastructure
Provide the people care
Protect the population
A few reasons they are there
It's time for them get in line
To govern as they should
Or put them on the chain gang
Breaking rock and chopping wood
Just how small can small-minded be?
Small-minded is that thing you see
That walks with small steps constantly
But goes nowhere you want to be.
Small are their own small-minded thoughts
That resonate from nil to naught
And traverse in small-minded ways
Self-centered trips through sterile days.
Small are the hopes and dreams they claim
Which lose perspective frame-by-frame.
It's just a small-time picture show
That demonstrates how less they know.
Short-sighted is small-minded's friend
like two absurds placed end to end.
They primp and preen to their content,
Nothing to flaunt - not gained nor lent.
And, small minds are far-sighted cursed
That go from bad to worse to worst.
For them far-sighted, heaven knows,
Is that which lies just past their nose.
The small-minded have egos too
But lose sight of what, why and who.
They rumble in small-minded ways
And shuffle through a self-made maze.
Some with small minds resolve to see
A "heads will roll" philosophy
But if they did what there would be
Is their own mindless entity.
The small-minded do not go far.
They like to think how great they are
But when it comes to finding fame
Just side show stuff - a no name game.
If you meet small minds on the street
Don't call them out but just repeat
Small minded's slogan of their ilk:
"Small-mindedness is Mother's Milk."