Long Self satisfaction Poems

Long Self satisfaction Poems. Below are the most popular long Self satisfaction by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Self satisfaction poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Acts of Kindness

ACTS OF KINDNESS

In diamonds, we look for the three C's
cut, carat and clarity, we consider
In kindness, we avoid the three C's
criticism, comparison and complaint, we defer

What the world currently needs
is its peoples good deeds.
Look around and you see madness;
in forms of selfishness, shamelessness, 
boastfullness, rudeness and meanness.
Greed, self-satisfaction and self-gratification abound; 
however, we can also see goodness is still around.

We can all contribute to mankind
by giving and being so kind.
Although, we have an idea that giving is always financial
and costly to be beneficial.
Giving kindness is natural and simple, 
as it comes from our heart; it's that simple.

Remember the three C's to avoid, as you do the acts of kindness
for avoiding them will open your heart and your senses.  
Hold back to criticize and begin to empathize
for you are not perfect and no one is perfect.
In totality, we are all imperfect.

Stop comparing and start accepting,
for no two people are the same and alike.
Even identical twins are not a hundred percent the same or alike.
Accept what you cannot change,
for you cannot change a person unless that person would change.

Refrain from complaining and begin listening.
Open your heart and try understanding, 
what works for you, may not work for someone else
or you have not gone through, what someone has gone through.

Smile and compliment, as these are good
gestures that would make someone feel good.
Give what you do not need,
that others can use or may need.

Reach out and touch someone,
a phone call or a note can lift up someone.
Think of other possibilities you can contribute to mankind.
Let your imagination roam to be more kind.


THIS THANKSGIVING IS HARD ON EVERYBODY WITH THE SOARING PANDEMIC.  WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS NOW IS KINDNESS.  OPEN YOUR HEART AND REACH OUT.  HAPPY THANKSGIVING. 

I AM SHARING THIS POEM, ONE OF THE POEMS IN MY PUBLISHED BOOK.

Marilene Evans


A Sideshow That Freaks

A crazed, dazed unexplained side show that freaks. What did we just do? Who knew, the few true, would prove to be me; and you? In shape we fit to form; like the shoe. In step we go toe to toe. As we set sail off the dock we began to row. From here to Tim buck two, the news has been spread. A wire fed buzz, music stuck inside your head. Without reason or cause. Lost in frenzy of locked jaws. The channel is the change. No home out on the range. Supernatural reaction of self satisfaction. It's dog eat dog in this life form contraption. Unable to define the infinite. The string cheese is an incident. Leaving a lasting impression as people come and go. Fair is the weather my friend, I'll see you at the show. It's no holds bar, a fight to the death. If your waiting for the miracle, I wouldn't waste a breath. I creep on stealth; I'm light on my feet. To avoid the contact, with the stranger on streets. A taco truck drives by and the fire engine sounds. I light up a smoke and out come the hounds. The city is the life and this is how we live. Another day another dollar, homeless asking us to give. The sites that we see, as we tour this. We are just visiting this life like a tourist. An excursion; short lived like a fur-low. It's suggested that we go with the flow. We make the most of the little things we appreciate. Make room for the love and weed out the hate. A master of disaster in this episode or chapter. Another piece to the puzzle that ends happily ever after. We flock towards the it crowd. To be a somebody who's proud. Egotistical tendencies close the mind. Open your hearts and who knows what you'll find. As the world turns, our wheels keep spinning. We learn from our mistakes. This is only the beginning. It's not easy to explain; this may last day or even weeks. It's a crazed, dazed, unexplained side show that freaks.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member To Whom Does This Come

The Battle Rages 

I am an egg. Not an onion. 
My layers do not run so deep.
Shell, yolk, albumin,
My own 3-in- 1 Trinity!

And why not? Says I...
For in His likeness was I formed.
From the purity of the body of Spirit
Into this wretched flesh was I born.

There's the albumin and there's the shell,
But where's the yolk, pray tell?
Why,  the soul! The essence of I, myself, and me!
My soul, made by God and always traveling. 

A spiritual home, was once my souls abode,
And no boxes there to pack when I moved to my fleshly home.
All three parts of me living in this shell made of dirt and dust, Always quarreling, always a fuss.

My purity of Spirit urged me to do good, to be kind, forgiving, as I should...
And the flesh is feral, selfish, very easily offended.
Listening to self and demonic forces, not as God intended.

This battle has Raged for thousands of years,
But He made a way for us to live without fear!
Each part of me is so hungry! Hungry for food both physical and spiritual. Whichever we feed the most, grows the stronger still.

The flesh yearns for self-satisfaction, self-gratification...
While the Spirit looks for words of Truth and self Moderation.
Feed the Spirit to keep him strong and in control...
Starve the flesh of self and you'll keep a pure and happy soul!
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member I Miss You, Dad

Hi Dad, I miss you. I’m sure you’re very happy up there and all the prep you did while you were sick paid off in wondrous ways.

I’ve been thinking about our past and the good times you made sure we had along with the food on the table and the roof over our heads. I’ll never understand how you managed to raise six kids on your salary.

Communication was never a big thing in our family. Your funeral was a prime example. It was just a sad showing before the mass and then a quiet ceremony. I was so happy to honor your passing by playing deep glorious Gregorian chants as loud as I could to accompany your rising above the clouds. It was as close to a ritual as it was going to get. 

What we don’t verbalize stays hazy, unexplored and undefined. Like you, I keep everything inside, I avoid conflict at all costs – overall this really hasn’t worked against me too much, the few times I exploded were not particularly winning outcomes. What’s the use? Teach someone a lesson? That never works. I’m just as happy being the way I am. It seemed to have worked out for you as well.

You were a good model for following your heart and what you believed in even if you knew you’d pay for it. It was the price of freedom and making your own decisions. Self-satisfaction was the ultimate prize. I’m just like you – stubborn to the point of making stupid decisions and not caring that they’re stupid. That’s the way we exercise our freedom. 

If you can, I’d love it if you helped me to discover my life mission and what lessons I need to learn down here. One of these lessons must be to learn to make do with minimum money: as depressing as it can get, struggling does have its rewarding upside of promoting creativity. 

Maybe you can also guide me in my prep for the big final trip.

I love you, I miss you. I’ll see you again some day.

Always your baby girl  xx   



Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~A SIMPLE MAN~ 2020

AP: 1st place 2020
Form: Prose

Premium Member Then and Now

When did we lose days when truth was high,
when friend was a friend, years unending;
Government could look us in the eye.

Before hurling insults was trending,
seems like it was many years ago.
when we hid words that were offending.

The drug scene was pending; we didn't know
Facebook was, thankfully, then unseen
Heros in space was our nightly show

Today's world has dissolved into mean,
self-satisfaction its new refrain.
Perhaps science found hidden hate gene?

Prolific drugs causing pain and gain.
Streets are the beds where homeless lie.
Children, babies in obvious pain.

Some walk by not hearing silent cry
Who'll save us all from upheaval street?
Mother Earth shudders and time grinds by.

Our song became a discordant beat.
How will it end? At best bittersweet.

December 29, 2022
for Now and Then Poetry Contest
by Unseeking Seeker
© Ann Peck  Create an image from this poem.


Destiny's Play

In a three -storey building, with great walls,
Lived a girl who spent her day with dolls.
One day, her family happened to leave in a car crash,
Leaving her alone with their Ash.
In their three- storey building.

Near lived a shoemaker of great skill,
Accompanied by self- satisfaction and a great will.
And a family of three to feed,
But not a three-storey building to reside.

The girl has everything, but happiness is on leave,
The shoemaker still has more memories to weave.
All was the plan of destiny,
To make the girl struggle at a tender age,
Or to keep the man happy without any penny.
Form: Rhyme

Grief Displays Selfishness

We serve people in surroundings seeking service, satisfaction and simple pleasures in return
When someone dies, same is snatched away and we shed tears thinking how we will survive alone

Grief gives a glimpse of innate selfishness of humans who are sorrowful for self even at death.
Grief grows when we are guilty and our guilty conscience pricks

Dwelling deep within, we detect desires and dependence as root cause of despondency
If we selflessly serve somebody sacrificing self satisfaction at the altar of service we seldom have sorrow

Mind makes miseries through mean musings
Meditation and mindfulness mitigate miseries
When mind is in the moment in front, our miseries end and we experience bountiful bliss 

Death's deadly blow marks the death of suffering for many
Those who are detached and love selflessly rejoice at death for suffering of loved ones has ceased

Wise wisely welcome death as they are prepared for its presence and perceive permanence of soul

24.04.2021
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
While speaking learned words, you are mourning for what is not worthy of grief. Those who are wise lament neither for the living nor for the dead. 
BHAGAVAD-GITA 2.11

All created beings are unmanifest in their beginning, manifest in their interim state, and unmanifest again when annihilated. So what need is there for lamentation? 
BHAGAVAD-GITA 2.28
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written for:
Contest Name - Grief in 12 lines or less 
Sponsor	- Line Gauthier
Alliteration 12 lines. Spelling and grammar checked at PS grammar checker.
Bhagavad-Gita is an ancient Indian spiritual book

Premium Member Song Imprisoned

Song imprisoned

      Lone musician
     engrossed to play violin.
    Resonance ripples
    on prelude to interlude.
     sinking in self consciousness.

     Self-oriented!
     Releasing emotive urge
     in joy and sorrow.
     None to share, none to listen.
     Rhythm of tune to glisten.

     An enlightenment:
    An ethereal ecstasy:
    Self satisfaction.
    Alone artist enjoying
    mystic morose melody.

     Lone bird imprisoned
     in cage stoops being drowsy.
     silent, no whistling.
    It has forgotten to sing,
     dreams of open sky in vain.


10/27/22

Image no. 3         word count < 165

Painting Prompted

 Contest by Lisa YY
Form: Tanka

Premium Member Arete

Note: "Arete": Pronounced [ ahr-i-tey ]

Sometimes our best efforts go unnoticed 
by everyone but ourselves.  
We strive mightily to succeed and accomplish 
something we think is important 
and of value to others 
that ultimately ends up in the proverbial wastelands  
of unseen and unrecognized accomplishments.  
Poets know this all too well
as we put in endless hours 
of deep thought and effort 
to mold a few letters and words together into 
something never seen, heard, or experienced by another 
to lift one's heart and soul up off the ground
or change or challenge a reader's perspective 
on any number of the innumerable mysteries 
and enigmas of life profound.  
In sum, we strive to shed new light on those around.
Too often, however, our efforts fall far short 
of those whose eyes we hope to entertain
and our endeavors appear to be all in vain.

But are they?  While we may be writing 
for the response and recognition of others,
above all, we should be writing for ourselves,
because at the end of the day, good writing 
is an arduous, lonely and persnickety pursuit 
towards happiness, self-satisfaction and improving 
our own mental well-being and state of mind.  
Writing builds character and helps us shine.

The ancient Greeks called it "Arete," meaning excellence,
or the extreme commitment to attain.
It's nothing new to poets or writers of any kind 
or any other person who's dedicated 
to being, doing and/or becoming the best 
that they can possibly be
at whatever it is they're striving to achieve.   
It's just a little something we would all do well 
to remind ourselves from time to time.  
When the recognition doesn't arrive
to fill our hearts and heads with pride
or obstacles stand in our way,
remember writing means more than what we say. 
And blessed are they who think
in terms of Arete`.

Premium Member Empowering Communicators

I'm not against left-brain
right-wing dominance
so much as I am for
right-brain
left-wing prominently appreciating
depreciating left-brain
right-wing dominant economics
and political disempowerment
of Earth's vital climate health,
collectively and individually,
globally and locally,
exponentially and intimately
transparent and vulnerable
communal relationship.

I'm certainly not against optimizing resilient health.
And, I am also for optimizing resonant integral beauty
with feeling multicultural trust,
cooperative win/win beauty standards for choice making
familiar with both/and co-passioning solidarity
replacing relentless stress
out-lining/in-lining a full spectrum of resilient health awareness.

I am not against global thinkingism
and self-satisfaction;
But I am also for local acting,
reflecting,
communing,
win/win prioritizing,
discussion and dialogue
with intent to cooperatively implement
health-wealth journeys
bicamerally informed
by resiliently resonant truth/beauty changes
into commonly-held wisdom economies,
beauty ecologies,
healthy integrity.

I am not against pathological 
absence of rational solidarity;
I am for healthy purpose,
wealthy meaning,
communion experience,
local planning and implementing
global compassion.

I'm not against civilian civility;
But I'm much more impassioned 
inspired by a global through local society 
of polycultural wealth through health solidarity.

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