Long Stoicism Poems
Long Stoicism Poems. Below are the most popular long Stoicism by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stoicism poems by poem length and keyword.
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.
In a world without poetry, An empty parking lot could not explain the reason for its emptiness The power of the quoted words of emotions would go unobserved
and perhaps unnoticed.
In a world without poetry, The rescue of a sparrow, a yard bug, and a spider eating an ant would simply be an act of nature, not the story that led to the spider's breakfast
In a world without poetry, Word shortages of speech would remain unsaid, and true feelings unexpressed in the light would remain unraveled, unrevealed, and sorely unhealed
In a world without poetry, Earth would have remained a cold, dark, and void planet Stoicism would rule, and imagination would be nonexistent Pure romance would be fantasy, ever stripped of intimacy
011920PoSoupCtest, If there was no poetry, Silent One
They Say, "Your destiny may not always be what you dreamt of".
I've always struggled to accept that, Maybe because I've been stubborn believer in stoicism, In the idea that a person can write his own destiny with discipline, Intent & Relentless efforts.
But then comes the inevitable question,
"If I believed that so deeply then why wasn't I able to Destine Myself to NLS/NALSAR Or any top 5 for that matter?
Why did I make peace with CNLU Patna?
Answer sits in blurred multifaceted dilemmas of efforts, Distractions, fate & Fairness.
Some answers I do know infact but they are really hard to accept,
Some are burried deeper in the question of fate and fairness
I may never fully know that was it the ink that spilled writing my destiny or it was the pen that dried out at the wrong moment.
But atleast I realised that life isn't a page but a book and now I have flipped the page again from CLAT (1126) to AILET (674) to CBSE Boards (90.8%)
It took me time to realise it's always reading the book even after the page doesn't turn out the way you imagined.
I AM THE HERON
There is a stoicism to me
silent, self reliant, pensive posturing
suddenness of intent and action.
My aggression is calculated,
measured in response to need,
activated by impending threat.
Stillness is the garb of my determination,
patience in the solitude of calm
spring loaded – a sharpened, piercing, beak.
I still retain my forebears ways,
their ancient chiseled features,
dedication to the rookery’s domain
amid the din of springs cool birthright.
I will cross swords defending nests
asway in natures treetop rocking chairs.
There is a stoicism to me
//Heron – aggressive, self determination,, self reliance//
submitted to – Picture Yourself As a Bird – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Andrea Dietrich
5/16/2015
From dusk till dawn, the fields, they toiled
Enduring lashes from the overseer's whip.
Grimacing as the sun on them, boiled
The pain, too deep for them to even weep.
Heavy iron shackles impeded their footsteps
Hot iron on bare skin branded them as property
And while many suffered from broken biceps
Others died and few in pains, reached forty.
The maidens got raped by the bearded monster
The children, separated and sold like sheep
And while many got maimed in this order
With stoicism they endured with little sleep.
The Americas, my Ancestors built
And like soldiers far from Rome,
They sweated and died without guilt
In a land they couldn't call home..
They toiled under the sun in silence
Their minds, blurred by the middle passage
Such hideous and appalling violence
That saw thousands cast overboard during the voyage.
Gathered at dusk around their candle stick,
Desperation had struck some with insomnia.
Families in fear clung, while the kids kick
Hearing their parents voices singing in nostalgia
"Home again again, home again again
When shall I see my home?....."
©Temajung Michael T
You ran from me, I told you not to. And you know what happens when you disobey me.
But it hurts. I don’t want to hurt anymore.
I told you it will stop hurting.
When?
What did I tell you about asking so many questions?
But–
No excuses.
And so it continues.
Four years of hurting and it never stops hurting,
He lies,
And his lies turn to mine,
Lying to my parents,
To my sister,
To my friends,
That everything is
Fine.
I paint a smile on my face even though
I can feel him
Everywhere.
The shower burns,
But the stinging feels like relief,
Like a semblance of understanding,
Of the pain.
The silence gets the best of me,
And I distance myself from everyone,
I convince myself it’s better for them,
Less they know,
Less they’ll worry,
Less it will hurt when I disappear.
I tape my eyes open,
Afraid to shut them,
Afraid to see him again,
Feel him again,
Be his again.
I scream with no sound,
I cry with no tears,
I thrash with no movement.
Stoicism has become my savior,
A desperate attempt at survival,
With a flat disposition,
No one can see the truth.
This is the debris,
This is what can stay,
This is what may remain
When he took my autonomy away.
I’m not some “survivor.”
There is no recompense
For all the hate that’s encompassed me,
I’m taking back what’s left.
*Image of It Begins by Pixabay.
Longanimity
Longanimity stretches a sowers grit for CROPS
actuality, albeit, can likewise be ones, calm, cool,
collectivity as the bounty of the reapers' CHOPS,
sublimity achieves nature advances as its jewel.
TESTS question one's prospect of forbearance
while tackling the crisis giving an appearance
BEST'S a favorable triumph of transparence
file away any despair entitling perseverance.
Impassiveness spread an outlet of snug DOORS,
abstractedness harps on focus, hard to fathom
jaggedness being unclear like peace and WARS,
disingenuousness, apathy, or idle our phantom.
POWER inspires valor to meet jeopardy, fortitude
being such intros a key to the crux, bid latitude,
EMPOWER one's gut to safeguard, ne'er subdued
freeing tribulation via best beliefs as its prelude.
Stoicism, Hellenic integrity of pleasure or PAIN,
prism of sorts to veer a beam or invert an image
schism hence lacks objection, curiosity ABSTAIN
escapism from reality treats a sublime vicinage.
ACTS of noble goals, confront peril, magnanimity
breeds one's bigheartedness forward, generosity
MAX the merits as concerns swamp, equanimity
seeds grounds to endure, merciful re longanimity.
2022 March 05
*1st Place*
Pick-A-Title, Vol 29
~~Edward Ibeh: Judged 2022 March 27
*NOTE: The Triple Lento form I used above is known as a CROSS LENTO, formatted as; 1st quatrain, start rhyme, aaaa, end rhyme, bcbc; 2nd quatrain (CROSS) start rhyme dede, end rhyme, ffff, 3rd quatrain (CROSS), and so on. A Lento has (2) quatrains, Cross Lento can only be used in double (4), triple (6), or chain Lentos (8 or more).
Words unkept, promises broken churned my heart,
like what the whirlwind does to the dunes.
I couldn’t calm down my twirling turbulence
as pent-up anger shattered the shield of tolerance.
Defenseless and discounted I disintegrated,
turned into discarded debris of indignity,
arrogance decayed in intolerant abyss.
Sanguine awareness then found patience,
the candle of inner strength,
ignited as the guiding light
through the exigent intolerance web,
that had entangled the essence of my muddled mindset.
Fortitude is now my stable thought mode,
the space to step back to clearly assess situations,
respond sensibly rather than react impulsively.
Patience, the bedrock of resilience,
the enduring poise in staggering setbacks,
symbolizes time as a pivotal element
in the process of healing and growth.
I have discovered an inner strength
that fortifies me in tempestuous life,
builds the bridge that fosters discernment,
allowing to appreciate the deviant thought perspectives,
and construct connections durable,
Amidst the commotion of turbulent life,
patience an alchemic anchor of calmness,
prevents me from being swept away
by the coercing currents of compulsion,
enabling me to approach life challenges
with composed and collected attitude transforned.
In the remaining phase of journey,
I carry confidently the wisdom of stoicism,
as a virtue that not only illumines my conscience,
but radiates outward,
influencing the quality of my interactions,
and fathoms the depth of my perceptive psyche
with the enduring strength of patience.
I absconded with reader rabbit (Peter), to celebrate Saint Patrick's Day
Ah Sheik Hog - Ho!
One "FAKE" Wingman Flying
Via O'hare To Dublin y'know
Cuz, The Leprechaun within
me, seeks young sprig poe
whet tick friend in toto,
though nowhere to be found despite search team
loudly trumpeting thru depleting fresh air
supply terrestrially polluted atmosphere,
asper the unknown whereabouts, regarding
said royally titled quasi legally inherited bare
naked lady loving bastard oven heated affair
son last seen donning Herringbone Wool headwear
supplemented by Irish merrino wool sweater
and custom made Hemp (smoking hot) pants
informing observer with seedy, faux debonair,
and pseudo (reed "FAKE") suave cultured couture
clothing automatically camouflaging to disappear
without a trace, thee alluded to rival to the throne
(Irish to keep ye in the dark) like chocolate eclair
secret recipe (one takes to the grave), unless held
at gunpoint by bonafide Machiavellian consigliere
ruthless if necessary forcing captive to declare
high fidelity, indemnity, loyalty, et cetera to a
life of lawlessness adopting anonymous incognito
guise accepting bewig noggin with long knotty hair
tattoo skin with "FAKE" scars to accentuate fear
factor accepting (blood bonded) brotherhood till
death do you part loot, pillage, vandalize, et cetera
in a blitzkrieg effort (albeit violently) to repair
evenly distribute disparity between 1% and 99%
grassroots uprising (peopled with migrants) spear
writ ting their exploitation at the (Taj Mahal) bear
sized paws swiping at susceptibility, vulnerability,
inequality, et cetera series of unfortunate events
decreed, instilled, ordained clamped like ironware
shackling one generation after another, an outright
outdated, on par as anachronism, feudalism, stoicism
where stark difference between rich and poor unfair,
especially, cus the latter labor sweat of their brow,
which backbreaking toil essentially endows wealthy
at expense of grunt work signalling ominous nightmare.
"As a child I maintained a stoic attitude.
I exhibited patience, restraint, resignation, forbearance, and lack of complaint.
The ideal child you might say. As I grew, I realized the error of my ways."
¬The Poet¬
Dreaming improbable dreams.
Reality betwixt the unsealing
Softly fluttering butterfly wings
Apricot anacondas wreathing
Bleating lambs catapult seaward
Over volcanoes about to erupt
Prismed glass rainbows sliding
Monuments souring unhindered.
No longer enslaved slaves
Thinking the unthinkable
To be what I truly feel
Tears that can’t be cried
Walnut shells dismembered,
For pathways to the unknown
Physically powerful reasons.
Persimmons permeate perfume,
Soft velvet sparks so subtle
Teardrops fall in puddles,
Weary eyes forge forward,
Everlasting daisies wilt
Forlorn ekphratic regrets
Misted windows endorse,
The pain as its vile pungency
Scorns the soul of the angelic
drives goodness to the brink,
mighty swords flow protests
to the unyielding winds of time
To defiantly stand up to demons
for a valid worthwhile cause
as the lyrics of memoirs spill
and gazes turn to wonder,
amid lonely nights of fear
with only love unblemished
if not myself what can I be?
to reach an unreachable star
I surrender to their touch.
Untold ethics to be true.
The sweet rose petals pink
And cumquats bursting
And ever do I regret the sigh,
Of your entwined lullaby
With cold adorning feathers
The sorrowful peacock wails,
An unending finale of song
To ease my savage thoughts
Doing it my way evermore,
And regain courage to protest,
In tangerine oasis in the seas
Instilling birds and bees hum
And bliss of your caressing
On clouds of coral swaying
As lilac shoots skyward
In ever circling cascades
Of merriment galore in store
Where mirth and joy combine
Making sediment pure wine
All logic cast aside in the wash.
The righted wrongs unsaid.
Resting my tired head
Culminating in enough said.