Long Shuns Poems
Long Shuns Poems. Below are the most popular long Shuns by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shuns poems by poem length and keyword.
Saturday I awoke from a long slumber.
My hair wet and smelling with sweat.
Palms are shaking if I had done something.
My memory does not let me pass a certain point.
I tried to grab my head, such pain.
I feel burning sensation in my arms and legs.
Grasping for breath and lagging it with panic.
So stressed, don't know what to do.
I do not remember a certain view.
I am strap down on a hospital bed.
On what condition should I be dead.
Laying not able to function.
I feel so grotesque.
Things are becoming dark once again.
Blur visions is like an escapade.
Jolts being delivered through my brain.
Fear settles in and gives birth of loneliness.
Sounds of ungratefulness shuns my thinking.
I will not give up cause I am human.
With strength I can beat this.
Found beside dead bodies.
My own wife and daughter.
Should I just fail to resist.
Did I do it with no smiling bliss.
What kind of sick torment is this.
My palms are getting sweaty again.
My vision seems to com back again.
Shocked about what happened.
I was found innocent.
A women who was scared saw everything.
A strange shadow appeared be hind me.
Choking me till I was limp.
Beating sounds in my eardrums.
Screams that did not sound calm.
Vision disappeared as I hit the ground.
The doctors had to keep me strapped.
Just because I was in shock.
Losing everything that I cared about.
Feels like my own hand did it.
I could not protect them.
I feel my hand has blood in them.
Crouching to my knees when I fell.
Like a person who had a disease.
A disease that was fatal to my existence.
Letting my own family down so weak.
Freaking out with no sense of direction.
The disease I was talking about was fear.
Fear of being non-existing.
Crying with bloody eyes.
Back so pinched that it feels like pin needles.
Tearing my muscle apart just because.
Scorning myself with bad luck.
Dark and gloomy my heart is done.
I am expose as a coward.
Weeping in side my soul is my two dear souls.
My dreams are going away.
My blame is creeping slowly eating my soul.
Keeping this memory is not what I want at all.
Doctor's have told me I'll recover.
Such non-sense I discovered.
I feel that the blood of my love ones are in my hand.
It really is hard to stand.
This retrograde entropy enslaves open minds and prepares open graves. The music plays, yes, but the dance is delayed.
Choronzon shuns the sun, even before the spark of man’s inception. His dark art festers in the balanced heart, eating away at pure intention.
Think ye safe? You are wrong. His power is strong; and from that abysmal home, his reach firm and long. Like a lion on the prowl, the beast is free to seek and roam.
That old star eater, game cheater, life sucker, soul ****er. Is it no wonder that thrice three is his unholy number?
“Resist”, ye say “and he shall flee.” Empty words speaketh thou thee! Show me THY skill and stop telling me.
Your tongue talks games that your mind can’t play. Who saves? The serving slaves? Toiling for their spoils on rainy days. Nay, I say!
Explode and rage! For once, be thou brave! Unleash thy flaming, turning, blade! Strike at the heart and the head will cave!
Enflame thyself in most holy adoration and soon ye shall see that this, alone, is the key to defeat this abomination.
The mind tattered and the soul bereft, take a breath of what’s left, and after this swift annihilation, sit ye long to calm your mind, and compose thyself to holy meditation.
Know thyself as in Adonai’s presence. Be ye still.
Be ye still! Know thyself to be; KNOW thyself to be; it’s nothing to simply “feel”.
At the very last moment, when the heart and mind be quiet and still, ye shall then and only then know thyself victorious, and the accomplishment of thy Will.
In the hollows of power’s grip,
where shadows twist the heart’s cry,
there—mights build thrones on backs bent,
where abuse wears the mask of guidance,
control, a cloak woven with the thread of fear.
Power thrives in silence, feeding on the unspoken.
Manipulation, subtle as the serpent’s whisper,
curls around dreams, tightening,
threats drip, venomous, eroding hope,
indifference, a cold moon, shuns the warmth
of a shared sun, selfishness seizes, tight-fisted,
squelching the laughter of the young, the joy of the old.
The beauty of a soul, effaced,
a canvas scrubbed too raw,
bearing the brutal strokes of unkindness—
yet, beneath this, a pulse, a flicker:
resilience, a defiance against the night,
rising, always rising, despite the crush of the dark.
Avid interest prevails
for this "news junky" to get affix -
hence kudos for journalists,
who risk life and limb - bricks
bats clobber such
daring persons, who strive
like fledgling chicks
to get bonafide storied scoop,
especially when video flicks
capture shame faced
depravity, or worse,
these days many brave souls
killed for kicks,
nonetheless paltry posthumous tribute paid,
with primitive cross made of sticks
assassins gun down, (or kill some other way
to silence frontline factfinders),
sans brutal, short and ruses and tricks.
as a concerned global
citizen, an ache
prevails to glean abhorrently
base, corruptly demonic,
evilly ferocious, gory henchmen,
insidiously kindle and break
king the lofty liberty, laudatory
ambitious aims of
REAL versus "FAKE"
information, and praise to die hard,
fearless, and intrepid soul who make
searching for raw bits their mission
so such valuable
nuggets of verity slake
my unquenchable thirst
to gain insight take
a moment of silent
appreciation so I a can wake
without a trace
of doubt within
mine cerebral space
the outrageous naked
issues afflicting race
religion, nationality, et cetera
co opting and out pace
sing modern day torch bearing
apostles amazingly grace
fully doggedly persevering
despite the ugly face
of thuggish sinister rogues
damning to erase
any iota of factual happenings
emboldened duty bound scribes chase.
TRICK OF LIGHT
Moonlight beams that streams are treacherous, dear.
They shine yet leaving some lovers bewitch.
I gaze at you one last time while you sleep
for you might wake, tasting tears from my lips.
This night, my love, please ask moonlight to stay
to watch over you while I steal away.
Harsh is the light that forms a beloved
that in each dusk growing thin and distant.
Cruel like sun's glare is the brown eyes that
answers fond brilliance of another gaze.
Our bittersweet love shuns: a lantern dim,
Always this treachery can never be.
In blessed eve, we dance again, You and I,
the refuge (I felt) swells on shadows warmth
these the recesses of our whispered vows--
flashes of white hope for my weary soul.
I cower winter low before sin stabs.
Again, this treachery can never be.
Breathless in butterfly prayer for peace;
a final ace for a vestige of pride.
Dear,[oh dear...] though I shall steal away soon
my heart will stay with you forevermore
I blow this thine words up in the cold air:
"May he ,who holds you today, forgives me --
for once, twice I have stolen you from him..."
___________________________________________________
©O. E. Guillermo
01:36 pm, February 20, 2015
Sponsor: Giorgio A. V.
Contest Name: Structured forms-Iambic verse - Recite and analyze a fictional event - (Top Gun Poetry)
Placed 2nd.
Ask a swallow why he nests
below the edge where daylight shuns
catching insects sheriffs fail to warn blue
doctrines stones emit the scent between
evisceral guardians thoughts intact
feign judgements eliptical repast upon our
gains as men can see the folly laws oblige your
honor swears red moon's deputy witheld
injustice paints in swooping arcs such grace
joins legions far from rivers flowing seige
kaleidoscope of councils sit both foreign prisms
lakes reflect I've said it twice so shall love be
more begotten fires rampage incessant burning
naught said I who danced in darkness lies
of so called yet named by masters travelled time
police strike fear where unborn truths remain the
quest is real but never seen your eyes are closed
requires the writ belies our rights that beings
swept in neon ads for latex lives beknownst
to none arrested by the thought germander sage
until found essence herbal strength respects the
valiant of thee... tree, barn or cliff set free patterns
winds of destiny abide in spirits eternity make
xylons play majestically forever peace may humble
yawn, the sheriff and the swallow find forever
zeitgeist pond
11/19/14
© james marshall goff
I am an elementary school counselor.
Everyone else shuns the sixth graders, they are my pals.
They are the ones I know the best, we have the same humor.
We laugh at the same raunchy jokes,
Although some I have to pretend I do not hear.
I like my day, it is so much fun; every day different.
I glide through it, laughing and playing, in a child-like, happy way.
Until I get a phone call or emergency text from Room 145Z.
Laughter stops. My smile runs off and hides in a corner.
I pretend to be sick, running for the bathroom, clutching my mouth.
I have a walkie talkie. I get paged six ways to enlightenment.
My boss comes to find me; she is the principal. I have to go.
Jumping off a cliff into a murder of crows being killed by wolves
would be more desirable.
I open the door and enter.
They are all over the place, screaming and yelling.
Under tables, screeching and snarling. Spitting and kicking.
"Thank you! " the teacher says. "I will be right back."
Six or seven come up to me and tug on my clothes.
I use the kindest softest voice I have ever mustered.
Two run off screaming and crying because I hurt their feelings.
Sixteen run up to tattle on others.
One pulls my hair to see if it is red all the way to the root.
Another throws up on my shirt.
I have been here what, two hours?
I look at the clock.
Where is she?
She comes running back in. "Thank you!" she says. "I really had to go."
I'll say.
She was gone two minutes.
I am terrified of room 145Z, the kindergarten class.
Space I am surrounded by space
and in it I'm crowded but yet I am surrounded in the world filled covered with Grace of Him Elohim
Blacked
Darkness shuns the light
In space, blacken in Darkness
I shine
For I am...the
LIGHT
interpretation of my words:
I'm surrounded by the vastness of space,
yet feel crowded,
implying a sense of contrast between
the physical and spiritual realms.
Despite being in a world filled with darkness,
I am covered in the Grace of Elohim,
Encased by His divine protection and love.
Move darkness recoils from the light,
indicating a separation between the two realms.
In the midst of darkness, I shine,
declaring my true nature as the Light.
My soul convey a sense spiritual awareness
Within His divine connection
As I am contrast between light and darkness
Soar I triumph as light over the darkness
I declare and degree my identity as a beacon of light
I who keeps shining my light in the darkness!
Radiance is a testament our testimony
To the power of Elohim's Grace
Soar I shine within His face
I AM of THE LIGHT- I AM GIVING LIGHT
9/5/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2024
Poems of the Early Bird ~ Night Owl
Two different birds make their nests in our home
One with plumes of brilliant sunrise chrome,
Amber and golden hues glow,
Rises up to crow
Wriggling sun
Poems;
One - dawn shuns -
As pale moonlight grows
Songs from gilded perches flow
Early bird – night owl duets shalom
Two different birds make their nests in our home.
7-15-20
Based on the Andaree form
"I carry your heart with me(I carry it in my heart)I am never without it"
Quote _ by E.E. Cummings
I have faith in angels since they revealed,
They stomp near my dad to yield him his place,
Flies with pale feathered wings out to lure field,
He stunned as he bowed by the throne of grace.
Making untrue promises to loved ones,
With the guarantee of eternal life,
His spirit sank as his breathless chest shuns,
Air rises from his chest cut by death knife.
That frost day, my dad didn't go home alone,
Three angels steered him down a gray pearl road,
All day, sheaves of angels shine on One's throne,
Yes, they roused my dad to his lasting rode.
Lord's hand urged my dad, freeing inner cloak,
Grasp gloom and strife as murky charcoal smoke.
Written: September 13, 2022
Writing Challenge- In My Heart- S Forms - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Theme: Lost to Heaven: Father.
Checked by HMS.COM / 10 Syllables per line.