Long Self control Poems
Long Self control Poems. Below are the most popular long Self control by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Self control poems by poem length and keyword.
I’d take a bullet for you
This world is wicked and forbidding
Patience is merely a virtue
I’m sick of the useless bidding
Ease the burn,
Don’t be so stern
You’re out of my league – where do you hide?
I’d bleed for you – it’s been so long
Since you let me see what’s really on the inside
You’re as precious as a familiar song
You take my words as if they are worthless
I began to describe this unbearable distress
Feeling like a gracious wreck
I’ve earned a success’s peck
I’ve been awakened by inspiration’s igniting light
Give me a reason to believe with all my might
You look so precious in your pain
Your sorrow is like continuous rain
Doubts are engrained in my cranium
I’m insane the moment you made me feel numb
Descending into the shadows of the deep
Disappearing into the caves of the unknown
I’d give up my life for you – yeah, you know that
I’d take a bullet for you too – I ain’t perfect,
But don’t you dare use me as a worthless doormat
Don’t neglect your intellect – your words, they infect…
What do you expect me to be like?
Should I accept you to be exact?
You’re a majestic mountain for me to boldly hike
Is our everlasting love a sheer fact?
You’re the air I breathe – so, stop being a tease
I’m going crazy – put me at ease
Self-control is what I lack…so please…
Forgive me and my worthless words
You’re as beautiful as a billion birds
Excuse me, but I need you back in my life
I can’t just embrace this peaceless strife
Mend the scars
Look up at the stars
Kiss me before you leave
Don’t watch me grieve
Come with me my Brother,
to a secret place where Light and Shadow line the face with fear and grace,
leave sophmoric style, wry smile and sly bile on the road of your forgotten mile,
sick sarcasm is the symptom of envy, a pet to your heart destroyer,
such artifice and malice have no language in this room of roasted dreams,
Enter through the damaged door, touch the destruction of vandals,
you have never been here before, where gold blood cuts the floor,
do you see how the walls move like squalls at our approach,
feel how they tell stories with the sensations of defeat, anxiety, impropriety,
in here we witness a collection of seperate yet synthesized segments of Self,
childhood torment, shallow manhood, virility limp as stolen victory,
underachievement, the underbelly of your arrogance, flacid like placid passion,
We journey further into this gallery of emotional gallows
smelt by the hurt of innumerable adavances
repelled by the demands of Quality,
you will writhe wildly
from the harrowing healing leeching into your concepts of self control,
graceful in absorbtion of Truth's attrition,
fruitless ambition shall now cling as cleaving contrition,
your face Brother, look long into the shimmer of sorrow become the old,
tattooed you are like a snake's skin checkered and beautiful
with scaled episodes of submission and aggression, dying to be Divine,
I want you to know that there is no exit of ease from this place Brother,
we trek within your very Soul,
this is the home and harbor of everything you've decided to be,
there are other rooms here, some of joy and some of strife,
but you leave not the Truth Room of your anger
until the Light finds no fault in your intention -
J.A.B.
He was caught in a mine of a mind in reprisals admonitions and self-reproach
Had been looking for diamonds and gold but then the escape shaft caved in
Gotten shafted and the stake stuck like an iron rod from rock bottom to head
The metal changed colour in Jonathan’s lazy synapses as they flooded his brain
It had become a matter of intrinsic extrication no more death dance with poles
Now he was chasing a break out route but the canary had snuffed its last breath
The tunnels began to fill with water and he had to reason and ration his thoughts
Only one way to go he resolved but actually there had been two at the least
Three hundred meters or so in one direction eight thousand miles for the detour
‘Better to rest for a while then to start digging one scrape and crack at the time’
He had a bit of explosive left but the roof could cave in and bury him alive
‘If live gives you a barrow the wheels are still turning and I got a shovel’
The rescue team was far away and he needed to take self-control or expire
Water kept seeping up to his ankles so far so good thus he would not be thirsty
‘Disaster brought me to my knees before maybe the lessons have to taught me’
Jonathan was not an ancient legend and he could do without metaphoric riddles
Timing was essential but experience comes before essence ‘it’s time to get up’
Nothing to lose as he had very few possession ‘I think and therefore I am’
‘Searching for earthly possession got me here in the first place’ and in any case
He could not eat precious metals they would not make a dent in his pitiful pit
Even if he would only ever only scratch the surface he would go out with a bang
19th March 2019
KYLIE HERBUELA
Acrostic
K....udos for all your qualities
Y....earning for a higher education
L....earning to acquire for a greater wisdom
I.....nspiration to the next generation
E....xceptional courage and conviction.
H....allmark of courtesy and self-control
E....verlasting joy she brings to her family
R....esponsive to her call and duty
B....rain and beauty with dignity
U....nderstanding and loving
E....ndearing and afable
L....ikeable young lady
A....miable, kind and adorable.
Our Claim to Fame
A man is more than his name
But a name that lacks honor
Will leave a man lame.
In this life and the next,
Our struggles will define
Our life in the text--
How our immortal soul
Should be counted:
Will it pay the toll?
Spiritually speaking,
Rationality
We should be seeking.
Morally self-control
Is a vital key
To making us whole.
And, socially,
Justice must be
Sought more than vocally.
The lesser struggle--
As a final resort,
Or nothing but trouble.
Wisdom spoken…well and good,
But wisdom needs action.
This must be understood.
Without real effort,
Our life is vague
And nothing but hurt.
Live long and without regret,
In service to others--
And even better yet…
A truly righteous life
To honor our maker
Without discord or strife.
When death draws nigh
And God’s questions are posed,
Honor answers with head high.
Now clear to all our claim to fame:
A man arrived
With an honored name.
When I was teenboy, nothing else mattered
Than making out in the back of a Chevy
With a gorgeous young hottie with boobs to die for
Breathing became rather heavy
Now I'll try to behave coz the censors are watching
And your computers will probably short circuit
With the powers vested in me, I'll try to behave
But it'll be quite a challenge I'll admit
All my many friends I have here on the Soup
Are aware of my penchant for the naughty stuff
After all what's life about but to wiggle and jiggle
While parading around town in the buff
So far the censors haven't any reason to complain
I've been relatively prim and proper
But I sure can't keep this up indefinitely though
I'll blow a gasket as I get all hot and bothered
Eventually though, I catch hold of myself
Since a teenboy, I've actually learned self-control
Can now walk down the street without molesting girls
And the drooling I've controlled on the whole
So in closing I'll say this, my very good friends
There should be a law that allows us guys
The freedom to molest hot voluptuous young fillies
And make out in the back of a Chevy as a prize
© Jack Ellison 2016
She said, if I correctly recall,
That, for her, a sustaining love is an
Absolute prerequisite for what
Would be a total commitment of the
Coupling bodies...and all that
Constitutes the essential parts of the
Eternal Soul;
And I not so assuredly competent
In this - the practice of such a higher
Art!
Adding, some little time later, that
Being so chained, in what she described
As an unfortunate consequence of a
Most regrettable thrall,
To a domineering Harlequin who,
When mindlessly exercising the upper
Whip hand, had neither modest restraint
Or any amount of unimpassioned
Self-control,
Was, in fact, just a flagrant excuse
For a base lust;
Of course this was not to be confused
With the laudable and gallant actions
Conceived within the inner workings
Of a steadfast and more openly honest
Heart.
And was I convinced that I was indeed
Sincere in all my avowed pledges?
And did I truly understand that all her
Troubled life she had tirelessly
Searched for one such as I purported
To, somehow, seemingly be?
How I instantly can bring to mind
Those obscure and doubting mutterings...
Still carrying upon an ill wind I
Should not wonder;
I think of them like the songs of the
Naiads: what woefully remaining
Sounding endlessly above the glassy
Tinkling of a mystical lakeside's
Stiffened and shuffling Sedges;
You a modern-day Danae, infant Perseus
Clutched to your swollen breast, your
Little box, in all its abject
Loneliness, now set adrift upon some
Desolate and open sea.
What turned out, in the end, to be a
Pointless charade. Perhaps; but that
Which, despite shortening periods, whilst
Enduring felt almost timeless.
Then of course this shared guilt...
That will, shamefully I fear,
Forever bind us.
Purposeful thought leaders, empowering intellect they reign,
In disposition phlegmatic, indifferent to pleasure or pain,
Rejecting emotions vain, impassive within taciturn domain,
Questing for mindful contentment, virtues of reason ordain.
Missives tolling of rectitude, emanate from heart and mind,
Guiding sanctity of awareness, wisdom virtuous aligned,
Maximizing positive thoughts, amplifying tendencies kind,
Of knowledge and understanding, spirits tranquil designed.
Freeing from distress, achieving balance in purity sublime,
Reverberating in noble song of life, echoing through time,
Strumming happiness, where refrain of reason is prime,
Where goodwill of speech, and actions benevolent rhyme.
Enlightened people find harmony in realms of self-control
Overcoming disturbances that in silhouettes of past troll,
Vying aspirations of tomorrow, enamored in sanctity of soul,
Consciously shedding negativity, passions imprudent extol.
Volatility of perturbed life calms, embracing thoughts divine,
As sapient ways of erudite mind, on arc of cognition shine,
Triumphing over negative vibes as dissonant distractions decline
When goals of reason and acts of virtue inextricably entwine.
Fantasy train
It’s night. Central London, the last subway train left Bond Street station.
The train was speeding along with me and a few other passengers.
A so powerful dream in a wonderful fantasy realm took hold of me.
My vigilance and self-control left me. Just sleep and sleep, and dream.
Wonderful landscapes, worlds, women, and intoxicants caused joy in the dream.
I feel a strong twitch and hear a loud shout.’ Sir! This is the last station!’
I woke up. An empty whiskey bottle fell out of my hand and rolled on the floor.
‘Were are we?’ I asked. ‘On Harrow and Wealdstone station.’ Came the answer.
‘From which platform can I go back?’ I asked. ‘From platform two at five o’clock.
It's one o’clock. Night. I bought a bottle of whiskey in a shop. Drink and just drink.
As soon as I lay down on an old bench in the street, I immediately found myself on the train.
On the train again. I continued my dream. Incredible visions, delights, I just live here.
Just here. Only here. Forever. I didn’t wake up anymore. A hearse took me away.
"My healthy arm will be your stay; And I will smooth your pain
away; And when I see you hang your head; It will be my turn
to watch your bed; And tears of sweet affection shed. "
Quote - from Ann Taylor's poem, My Mother
I will turn back the pages of sorrow,
to the sad May day my mother left me;
the details recalled each 'morn and 'morrow,
as her breath became gasps- I did not flee.
Then, stood by her coffin screaming inside,
tears falling, whispering- oh, why God why;
she had left me on Mother's Day that year,
to her cold headstone my thoughts often glide;
I set her free- so up, up she could fly,
turn off life support . . . I said with a tear !
Mother was my very best friend always,
loved her garden and country adventures;
mom, so calm even when roads were a maze,
so we would stop the car to take pictures.
Our home had a huge vast sunny garden,
since a child I helped mom with the flowers;
those days are some of my best memories,
nesting close by we had a Blue Martin;
we could linger there for - hours, hours and hours,
Mother's day . . . will be lost in reveries !
I never met a more joyful kind soul,
my sweet mom embraced every single day;
to others she had so much self-control,
mother was happy and gay everyday.
She made each birthday a celebration,
each Christmas Day . . . gifts, family and food;
I was mothers decoration helper,
think that I was often her frustration;
always to my poetry she was glued,
my mom was my rock, true north and shelter !
____________________
April 28, 2022
Poetry/Ode/'I Love You Mom'
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1451-480-28
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, A Mother's Love
Tribute of Love for Mother's Day
sponsor, BJ Legros Kelley, Judged 05/03/2022
First Place