Long Stigma Poems
Long Stigma Poems. Below are the most popular long Stigma by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stigma poems by poem length and keyword.
Conversation I had yesterday with Gatsheni
Made me question my existence and illuminated loopholes in my spiritual task
Some steps requires one to be bold and embrace fully what my purpose is upon this cosmos, fear and what people will be say stigma, will delay one's progress
It's about time I serve my purpose, pity many will fall off from my side...
Echoing substations from my ancestors, reverberates, bold decisions are to be made, it's time I project without fear of favor, the message is deafening...
trusting the bearers and the process is inevitable, before the damage becomes amorphous for me to contain further...
The sage and candles are burning too low for my aura, but I the voices echoes, it's now or never
I forgive the stars sleeping in nothingness,
too afraid to embrace eclipsed spheres…..
In the midst of sweltering gloaming,
I ascend, obscured and tarnished,
like a tainted trinket lost
in the tangerine haze.
For I’ve long been burning
from the coals of stigma~
stamping labels upon troubled torrents,
using malignant metals,
mirroring the fear within lichen eyes,
consumed by ancient
arrows of anguish~
from the era of Hercules and Midas.
But if only they knew, there is
no remedy for the jaded jewels that
refuse to sparkle,
for my purity remains unseen in
growing darkness,
oblivious to the liquid gold
that flickers compassion,
as they see not
beyond their fractured vision.
O distorted colors of the sun,
I’m not your perplexed perspective;
I breathe in hues of humanity,
infused with luminous lavender.
I’m not a Medusa siren luring you
to serpentine rocks;
I swim in chromatic, evanescent streams,
brimming with blissful bioluminescence,
illuminating my way under the midnight sky.
I’m not the suffocating wintry winds
freezing oxygen in your lungs.
While it seems your tongue is silenced
and tied to the twisted strings
of broken instruments,
I ink words of hope and
empathy upon your cynical skin.
I am more than the blind rage
seeping in fury.
I’m not a heartless harpy
screeching into the emptiness~
drenched in despair,
pushing boundaries to
the ends of the earth.
I am Atlas holding the world on
his shoulders,
I am the glistening stars aching
to touch the silver ring around
the jasmine moon.
But life is like a helix fixated
on unconscious bias,
constantly critical of diverse dialects,
watching me struggle to stand
under the weight of pressure,
knees buckling as your assumptions
lacerate me, breaking me down,
burying me in your ruthless riddles.
I feel rumbling dirt beneath
my bleeding feet.
My sarcophagus is rising,
built from your putrid ideals of me.
Losing footing, I refuse to fall into
the seething seas of sorrow.
So remember, I was never
the soulless monster hiding
beneath your ignorant bed.
But I am now the skeletons
etched within the cataclysmic
aftermath of your
shallow misconceptions.
Sweet dreams are fantastic and enchanting,
The golden wings of brightness are quite chanting,
The natural beauty of songbirds is like fairy dust,
In this dream, I broke down with joy and bust.
Oh, dream! The ominous curved shape was not scary,
Chimera! The vampire seemed merry,
Then the classic scary stigma of horror vampire,
Fear of satanic blasphemy grew as a damper.
Oh! I closed my eyes in horror at that terrible sight!
His hypnotic eyes stopped the trembling, awe-inspiring flight!
The Vampiric myth unsolved puzzle may be resolved tonight,
My heart raced as the ego chiseled my family's artistic heights.
There is tranquility and calmness in my head,
Trying to remember how beatific this time is ahead,
I am grateful to God for my golden vision,
which appears to be a wonderful envision.
A mysterious traveler from our odd planet,
At home, into the magical realm of sleep gamut,
In a dream, I filled out a waiver and escaped Vietnam,
And I joined the National Guard, my favorite aplomb.
My favorite subject at school was English Literature,
Dad said math and science were vital, not litterateur,
I focused on calculus and left grammar to my proclivity,
I learned to design technical visuals, not creatively.
We were labeled "baby boomers," but we were war babies,
It ensures the happiness of possible rivals abides,
Living in America exposed me to a touch of pioneer history,
Technology and industry drive us forward through mystery.
The dream ceased without falling for the intelligentsia,
She freed me from lethargy by having me fight inertia,
Without her, I could have abused booze and heroin,
It's simpler to surrender to laziness than to be a heroine.
I rode the conveyor to the consulting to provide luxury,
I wrote finance and tech books to show I hump Riff Poetry,
Now I am in search of mystical sights and cosmic vibes,
When the writing is over, I shall resume painting the jibes.
The most exciting dreams are abruptly interrupted,
When the sun's rays approached, rouse erupted,
Appealing experiences, from a need for sleep,
More people assumed occult esoteric creep.
1ST place contest winner
Written: September 15, 2022
The Mystical Dream Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
It's good to celebrate
Or may be not
Our tale's effect brought
How on campus, we acclimate
I remember her, the smile and rapport
In memory of what activity do and did
How grades' influence was so candid
In memory shall live evermore
Heartbroken is of no factual cure
But fighting back is a grace, for sure
That failure is not a one-way track
Tightening focus' stigma a hunchback
Never again, after SPED I did swear
Will other worlds be proved unfair
Up the same part in pursuit wandered
Focus and fighting back, longer pondered
Though distraction may lament the two
Maturity and experience will come so true
Little will it ever come to really last
In time, the dance, the stumble of mindache past
The treasured past time was unkind
It left wall, well, and wish deep behind
Moving on fuels the weather's heart desires
To cope with each passing changes' fires
Your signature has been smartly found
Amidst the quests of the severe ground
Older but you are wiser by the day
Rough-smooth tides, yet you turn each your way
Happy birthday to the troubled peace
The ease of craving unrelentingly, masterpiece
Growing from the day's raining cloud
And the dim lightening tearing the thunder so loud
In the life and dream you sought
Live gracefully the way mercy ought
Time wanders interestingly with no grin
Your dream(s) fade sure not in aged skin
To you whose care is no ghost
Thy warm spirit, I forever toast
Grow old with love and sweet fun
Counting blessings through graceful luck you won
KEEP LIVING...
I bridged the chasm and entered ambiguous halls
Climbed over barbed fences inside my mind's walls
To glimpse the core of how men and women relate
Among flowering vines behind the garden gate.
Within a flower is both gamete and stigma
As semen to ovary - what an enigma!
Nestled deep in my breast, I hear a sultry voice,
"Which would I be if I'd been given the choice?"
I am content with my life in a single ilk
I give in to the urge to wear lace and silk
A little more mascara and blush on my face
I desire to be a lady with charm and grace
I wear jeans and boots, shorten the length of my hair
But some days high heels are what I choose to wear
Two halves of one heart, beating in rhythmic sync
Twins in one body but both sharing the same link
One set of footprints I leave on a virgin shore
I know who I am, but sometimes yearn for more
I'm searching for what lies behind the waterfall
The answer discovered when I hear my siren call
One foot in each of two very different worlds
Climbing trees like boys with painted nails of a girl
When asked my favorite color, I always say it's blue
But I'm also partial to pinks in pastel shades and hue.
I search my thoughts to see if gendering is mental
Knowing I'm more the damsel, not frail but gentle
When my psyche roars like a lion, I can repress
the savage beast in me when I wear a pretty dress
In kindred thoughts my anima/animas keep in touch
I respect my masculine inflection, but not too much
I don't saunter like a guy. I'm not one of them
My hips sway like a girl, so cherchez la femme.*
*Cherchez la femme is a French phrase which literally means "look for the woman."
Initiation led in an immoral way
in this era of Kali
carried in pain all around
in ruse and chicane.
Here plunder is organized freely
it has became a slaughterhouse
poison is flowing everywhere and
all are engaged in ruse.
All are violent in heart and mind
inhumanity takes place in run
in each corner of the world and
all they are playing with gun.
The river has become gloomy with blood
people are dying in violent hands
all are in grief and sorrow and
there is happy no one.
All the countries are engage in war
peoples are in trap of religion
there is nothing but cruelty and
the stigma covered the full moon.
Lust and delusion overwhelmed and
pollution are taking place in each mind
they has no compassion nor they are human
wherever I look, the monster is ruling on.
In form of incarnation of Vishnu
youth, come in force, come on
why are you so poor in soul today
why dwelling like prisoner at home?
While chasing after my beguiling muse
I fell into the bottomless abyss
Free falling into darkness does confuse
Despair replaces fragile happiness
This chill of loneliness I've felt before
No longer does the darkness summon fear
Cause hope is like a beacon on the shore
And love of friends provides a net of tears
But getting out is not an easy task
It all depends on just how far I fall
And when I reach the top I'll don my mask
To hide the shame and stigma of it all
Then once again I'll strive to reach my goal
To find a cover for this damn manhole
an original poem by Daniel Turner
In the silence of your mind,
thoughts overflow like your cup is running over
But you stay strong and confident like a soldier.
In the face of treat, you hold your composure.
Cold shoulder, pain that's in the eyes of the beholder.
Blockage to your heart, being protected by a boulder.
A mockingbird that's never been killed
It pours on this end, like when hearing the funeral bells
Like May, June rain every day it fall.
A philosopher in the making,
Something like Plato in his prime.
Or Shakespeare one of a kind.
You stay on your grind for the blessings to grow over time
Stay through to your nature
Like being in your natural habitat.
Mother's words hit harder now that you're older
Like yesterday to today now having to look over your shoulder.
They mistake kindness for weakness
Timid for scared
Helping out for being ordered around
That's the type of stigma when you're young.
When it rains, it pours over here
Blessings in abundance
Bless beyond years of hardship
Like the titanic but this ship won't sink.
Thinking about it and complaining about it at the same time
I'm one in the making like Walther Rodney
These steady strong bones was meant to brake wave
Like Mark Anthony I'm the definition of brave.
I did not
have friends
when I was
little
because
other Latines
in Chicago
didn't want
to befriend
the local
autistic
weird girl
or deal
with the
stigma
of being
associated
with the
adopted.
Just like
Setsuna Meioh
I guarded
a time door
to ancient
memories
for what
felt like
an eternity
and that
isolation
is basically
why I tend
to still choose
to be alone
even though
I know that
I do have
friends now.
Note: Setsuna Meioh does not belong to me. But she is one of Naoko Takeuchi's fictional characters whose essence resonates with me the most out of all the Sailor Senshi.
lying in the abyss that desire keeps revolving
in the hot shiver of cold feeling
that are always spinning.
In the story of the forbidden place at night
enchanted youths are immersed in illusory dreams
and silently they are decaying.
In the sullen light of the moon
the bright flame of perverted dreams
being suppressed into the dark forest that in.
Sometimes it cries by the joint effort of hip
end of that riddle the interim birth
is getting mingled into the stigma to dominant.
The roar of the sea erupts back and forth
failed and fall in the heart of the sand of the beach
entity is getting disappears
in pain.