Long Shorten Poems
Long Shorten Poems. Below are the most popular long Shorten by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shorten poems by poem length and keyword.
One more day on this cursed planet,
One less day in this infernal nightmare.
I chase after fleeting vanities,
Like an addict searching for a joy locked inside me.
I will spend yet another entire day behind a desk,
Counting the hours and the days for a salary
That prevents me from fulfilling my fantasies.
I will keep my eyes fixed on a computer screen,
Like a zombie bound to misery.
A vile coffee, a few cigarettes,
A sandwich as a calorie bomb,
And an energy drink to endure this torment.
Forced to accept this slavery
So as not to sink into poverty.
After this destructive routine,
I will once again write ramblings
To rid myself of the blandness of this dreary daily life.
I have some bills and alimony to pay.
The Parisian sky is as gray as the rats of the Trocadéro.
Scenes of horror repeat endlessly,
The same speeches, the same wars, the same victims.
They say the Earth is warming,
But the hearts of humans are growing cold.
I am always in a foul mood,
Everything disgusts me in this chaotic dimension.
But I still lack the courage to shorten
This miserable life I received for free.
I am condemned to sit front row at my own decay.
My vigor abandons me day after day.
I am on the train that takes me to the furnaces of hell.
I want to destroy everything, like those bloodthirsty tyrants.
I never had time to savor beauty or love.
Anger has spiced up the apocalyptic reality of my existence.
I am a paranoid allergic to human hypocrisy.
I have a sophisticated detector for treacherous souls.
I can no longer cry or laugh, I am simply angry.
My conscience is a minefield
Marked by convictions.
Life has never offered me roses,
Only thorns.
I crave darkness, stillness, and quiet.
I have never dreamed,
I simply do what I dislike
Since my arrival in this deathly dimension.
I tolerate neither betrayal,
Nor deceit, nor duplicity.
I will never have a pet,
I prefer the serenity of my solitude.
" In Conversation With Our Soul"
The Invisible Being
I speak to my soul, in the silence of the night,
With the busy schedule, I find that time right.
In utter loneliness, in my solitude,
I speak freely to my soul,
I must thank you for your gratitude.
I know you are for me, always there,
I can overcome any hurdle without fear.
I know you are always there,
You will never let me waste a drop of tear.
You guide me, I seek your advice,
You give me strength to shine and rise.
You help endless without any price,
Being with you, I think I am lucky and wise.
You show the path, when I go wrong,
You console me when I am impulsive.
You hold me like a mother, so strong,
You are more precious and most expensive.
You are there in my joy and sorrow,
My miseries you shorten and narrow,
by guiding me through the right direction,
Where I am accepted, without hate and rejection.
I know you are always with me,
To celebrate happiness and success, I must see.
I am thankful, you are there and always be,
Dear 'Soul' ,you are with me.
I share everything with my soul,
Part by part, it makes me whole,
You are my dear friend, you are my peer,
You make my life graceful, you make me cheer.
I get satisfaction talking to you freely,
You are my companion, my guide, truly.
I talk to you, I complaint,
I convey my feelings, when I feel uneasy,
Still, you listen to me, being patient.
When I am sad, when I am happy,
Whether awake or being dozy,
I get relaxed when you listen,
You are invisible, out of vision,
Still I know, you are for me, there
What today, what tomorrow,
You are with me always ,forever.
You praise me when I do good,
Scold me when I am bad,
You make me happy and at times sad,
I can not hide my feelings from you,
You know me, everything from before you knew,
Day by day, conversing with you, I grew,
Every time you guide me,
Making all my versions, as always...again new.
As the days shorten and skies darken
Greenwich meantime feels like a lean time.
With a heavier coat I go out scarfed,
my hat pulled down, to find those last leaves
compact in corners and crevices.
With whitening fingers gloved I crouch
and pluck them for leaf mould; while wood lice
watched by a robin, head cocked, alert,
are plucked as he darts for a morsel,
as blackbirds too pluck the last berries.
As a north-easterly blast attacks,
it is time to retreat from the chill
wind into a defensive shelter,
to sharpen secateurs for pruning
apples, blackcurrants and gooseberries.
Winter battles as the rain rattles
on the windows, probing and testing.
I bring in some logs and lay the fire –
match to kindling it begins to roar.
Now dusk it's time the curtains to draw.
Hot drink clasped, I behold a new moon
crescent up into a clearing sky.
There beneath the starlit canopy
snowdrops begin to poke through the grass
as if to reflect the countless stars.
In the morn I rake moss from the lawn
to keep warm – it pays to keep moving –
with aconites as if acolytes
soon to join a vernal procession
into the promise of renewed life.
You will never know the language of
lilac and lavender
carved from discarded countertop
granite for you,
each symbolic crossing inching
forward a leaden trail
of footfalls grown heavy by distance
measured from their genesis,
their sum, in whole, a silence slabbed
like an obedient daughter
at a Sunday supper suppressed by
quarrelsome parents.
Yours only to last was my first ever
endeavored, the poem,
which by any modest measure,
measures my worst:
an orphaned sonnet left to incubate in
fields forgotten
by memory lacking the oil we used to
burn in worship of sun,
its dark riddled with murk-water
wells forged from cobblestone
and feigned acceptance of distant
realities’ deep end look.
But you will never know which colors
vanished
the day that saw me leveled by
imbalance swung by fire:
the braided flame that drew a hopeless
breath to shorten
distance between life and death, home
and without, me and you;
the empty sky where you once spotted
a beautiful white heron
as it floated above infinite ripples of
love and liquid, like
the smoke I inhaled to pick up this
tattered page, burnt on
the ground next to Ashbury, Oliver, &
Keates, where I stood still
while I could still stand, holding the poem
you promised never
to read - the poem I promised never to
finish - defeated in words.
When you see the desolating (Emptiness or destruction) abomination (a thing that causes disgust or hatred) standing where he should not
Then those in Judea must flee to the mountains
A person on a housetop must not go down or enter to get anything out of his
house
And a person in a field must not return to get his cloak
Woe to pregnant women and nursing mothers in those days
Pray that this does not happen in winter
For those times will have tribulation such as has not been since the beginning of God's creation until now
Nor ever will be
If the Lord had not shortened those days
No one would be saved
But for the sake of the elect whom He chose
He did shorten the days
If anyone says to you then
'Look
Here is the Messiah! Look
There He is!
Do not believe it
False messiahs and false prophets will arise and will perform signs and wonders in order to mislead
If that were possible
The elect
Be watchful
I have told it all to you beforehand
But in those days after that tribulation the sun will be darkened
And the moon will not give its light
And the stars will be falling from the sky
And the powers in the heavens will be shaken
And then they will see
The Son of Man coming in the clouds
With great power and glory
And then he will send out the angels and gather his elect from the four winds
From the end of the earth to the end of the sky
Learn a lesson from the fig tree
When its branch becomes tender and sprouts leaves
You know that summer is near
In the same way
When you see these Things happening
Know that he is near
At the gates
Amen
I say to you
This generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place
Heaven and earth will pass away
But my words will not pass away
But of that day or hour
No one knows
Neither the angels in heaven
Nor the Son
But only the Father
Be watchful
Be alert
You do not know when the time will come
It is like a man traveling abroad
He leaves home and places his servants in charge
Each with his work
And orders the gatekeeper to be on the watch
Watch therefore
You do not know when the lord of the house is coming
Whether in the evening
Or at midnight
Or at cockcrow
Or in the morning
May he not come suddenly and find you sleeping
What I say to you
I say to all
'Watch
[MK 13:14-37]
Listen to my voice; I will be your God and you shall be my people. Walk exactly in the way I command you, so that you may prosper. But they did not listen to me, or did they pay attention.
Jerimiah 7:23-24
God the Father sent instructions to His children-His chosen people
For their own good
Yet their poor choices led to heart breaking consequences
Too often
That has described me too
So now
One of my life’s goals is to shorten the distance between what God asks of me
My actual doing it
God’s first counsel here is: Listen
Active listening is something we all can practice
By offering a concerted effort to hear what is being communicated
Before adding new thoughts to the conversation
The hearer carefully repeats back what was said
Try it
What I heard you say is…
Active listening allows the speaker to restate their part
If not yet fully understood
While offering the receiver a chance to get it right
Pat Gohn
Turned to poetry: Jac R. M.
Poetry Form: Free Verse
Remember fondly the days of sun
as the seasons invertably change.
The hours of daylight shorten as
each passes and nights are long.
Autumn reluctantly releases her hold.
The lands cool and start to freeze,
whilst with a roar winter marches in
claiming and coating all in white.
Remember with pleasure those sultry
days sipping a fine wine as you
basted in hot rays turning brown
only now to shiver as cold bites.
winter's grip settles in deeper
as icicles adorn the trees glittering,
shining in the weak sunshine like gems.
Boughs on trees dip and some crack off.
Remember swimming in the sea or
rolling in the sun warmed sand.
Tussling with your sibling
forgetting the freezing cold to come.
Ah! Winter both loved and hated,
feared by those who are ill prepared.
Life hanging in the balance for some
but most will survive to see spring.
Remember, for remembering renews us
bringing back days of yore that
on reflection seem so magical
remember too, time recklessly spent.
That can never be recovered, much though
you wish otherwise, it is gone, done, buried.
Remember winter will end with a whimper
and the sun become all powerful yet again.
Circumstance of France
Circumflex
Global indifference
Uncaring bastards
For words and letters
Grammar and poetic letters
Stealing our roots, our tools
Our hats
Our very being
Taking us for fools
We shall overcome this injustice
As Rafael Padilla rose above his chains
So shall we restore our dignity
I fear if we left the kitchen
You'd steal our onions too
Have you no soul?
Do you know how cold the winter with no hat?
You say you are the Académie française
Yet you protect not the black letters on a page
Oh Chocolat! Oh Shame!
You care not for the revolution long ago
Nor do you care for the heart of Moliere
I of all
I am shocked
To be calling the language police
What comfort can you give a word with no hat to wear?
Have you no compassion, do you not care?
All my life I have dreaded that hat
Now that I have conquered my fear
You wish to behead the very essence of French
Have you no shame?
You wish to circumcise the grammar
Shorten the learning, make bad spelling no ones blame
I stand tall, atop the Eiffel tower
I shall protest you, flexing my circumference
Making you see the errors of your intolerance
To murder such a small hat
Of history
You only create misery
As I open yet another Bordeaux
The Circus died yet there is one clown left
Notes: This poem is about the removal of the ^ from certain letters in the French language, this was decided in 1990 but only has become “news” now. However like all great ideas I did intertwine others, if you care to guess, and the point of the poem is not to make a point but rather to stir a social discussion on the issues of today.
through different eyes, you could see things more clearly
through different eyes, you could empathize with the totality
if you could only replace the blinders on your own
seeing things from only where you stand.
not able to digest the views of the other man.
if you could walk in someone else s shoes
if you would be the dog never getting a bone
if you be facing death at every turn
if you could not fight a man at the age of 4
if your past future and present were the same
if you had no safe place in this world to stay
if your color screamed shoot me kill me
mistreat me without shame.
if you knew you could not survive another day.
and you heard some disinterested party callously say.
"Get over it"
Just for once in your insecure and selfish life
look twice into another s space and time.
try and look and see with different eyes.
If you have a heart that is too unwilling- or a spirit bound,
this will shorten your sight, and limit your mindless views.
and let you only see that which benefits you as true.
See the truth that stares you in the face today
I am the victim of which the wicked prey
Tomorrow you may live to take my place.
through different eyes, you will see circumstances change.
Things concealed will now appear more real.
"Clear Visions" is the plight to you which
you must appeal.
Unless we see life through brand new eyes,
The sooner we'll see humankind's demise
Fourth year of bemoaning fellow Filipinos,
Justice wasn’t served yet to our Commandos,
Whose desire is safe haven to live, I suppose,
But nightmare of SAF Troopers were impose,
Which will certainly be like hunting shadows.
01/25/2015, when our Mother Unit flooded with lamentation,
Either way, corruption was everybody’s quotation,
Destroying soldiers of God is a big damnation,
That will totally devastate the hearts of the nation,
HIS chosen armies are the backbone and our foundation.
SAF 44, your heroism will never be forgotten,
Lies, greediness, and power will soon be rotten,
Grieving families let your hearts be soften,
Eventually, God will call for justice to our fallen,
Do not lose hope, nor let your faith to be shorten.
BROTHERS IN ARMS….LEST WE FORGET….