Long Suffer Poems
Long Suffer Poems. Below are the most popular long Suffer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Suffer poems by poem length and keyword.
Enhanted arrows fly arduously
Raining from snow-capped mountains
Upon gory and blood glistening tundra
The war ravages the cold north
Where hearts far more frigid
Do battle with the inhumanity within
Out here in the cold purity is lost
Men become boys longing for home
Where for their sins they'll never atone
The moon watches overheard
A silver specter in ghastly silence
Casting a callous pallor over all
Simply to watch men crumble and die
Their spirits loosed to the ether
Even after the battle has ended
The wind whispers softly
Sending the scent of blood south
Where nobles gnaw on the bones of the dead
Lining their pockets with the coin of the subservient
This world was planned, this world was damned
Battle after battle we're torn asunder
As the sky clashes with lightning and thunder
The king issues a mortal blunder
Remember the solace of that glistening battlefield
The ghostly call of the recently departed
This was for a man who calls himself king
Sitting on a throne of blood and toil
The few gain while the many suffer
All for this dreamscape
That was never reality
I left her behind
emaciated
I left her
dying
I left her
I left her
I wanted to die there with her
there in the desert
where I left my mother
there where the stench of the dead and the dying
filled the air
I left her
my other children dragging me on
the soldiers shouting
threatening..theatening
I had to go on...for the others
I left her
my little girl
who was too weak to speak
too weak to cry
my little girl
whom I smothered
knowing it would be quick
not wanting night to call
the animals to crawl
over her still living body
not wanting her to hear
the death wail of the old and frail
all around
I smothered her
and kept on walking
not hearing
not seeing
not smelling
not living
not breathing
I left her
I left my heart
I left my dreams
I left my tomorrow
and every yesterday
every memory
every hope
of a better day
I left her
and in that starless night
there in the desert
naked and bleeding
starving
shivering
I knew....
"the rest is silence."
Eileen Manassian
"The Rest is Only Silence" is from Shakespeare's Play...Hamlet. I, however, will not be silent about the Armenian Genocide. This is in memory of the 1.5 million Armenians who lost their lives in the Genocide of 1915.Though this is a fictitious write, the events depicted did happen during the Armenian Genocide in 1915 by the Ottoman Turks. One million and a half Armenians were marched into the desert in what has come to be known as the Death March. April 24 marks 101 years since that event. Not all countries have recognized the genocide. Unfortunately, America is one of them.
If you want to read an account of those days, read The Sandcastle Girls. Read of how woman were tied to stakes as the soldiers rode past on their horses and decapitated them. Read of how the orphaned children were gathered at night and put in caves and burned alive. Read of how the woman marched naked...their wounds festering, their hair matted...almost inhuman. Read of how women committed suicide rather suffer rape while others disfigured themselves to go unnoticed. History cannot deny the genocide. If justice is not served here...it will be....one day. God told Cain..."the blood of your brother Abel is crying out to me." The blood of these martyrs cries out today for recognition.
Romans 8:17 - King James Version
17 And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together.
He’s living in me
Breathing hope into my thoughts
Joy into my work
Inspiration into my dreams
Fulfillment into my plans
Love into my heart
He’s living in me
Breaking apart all the pain
Destroying the shame
Awakening the light within
Where I know I can be
The woman He created me to be
Someone who listens to His words
Finds my identity in His verses
Whispers grace from my spirit
To teach the world that I know
Love like this is alive
A fire inside
Where the Holy Spirit
Brings faith to life
And pours out wonders
Too amazing to speak of
Wonders of the heart
Rich and vibrant thoughts
Scriptural truths
So alive they override
Even the loudest voice
Come to life in the soul
Who listens to Him speak
Through the verses He plants
Within the heart who needs
A touch from His hand
A spark from His presence
Acceptance that assures me
His spirit dances through me
Beckoning to my heart
To always cling to the thought
That He is alive
Abiding so bright on the inside
Where He gives me a life
That I truly desire
A life filled with love so alive
It delights in the knowledge
That He is there
Giving out direction
Affection and correction
All that I might need
To live a life that will feed
My spirit’s greed
For Jesus!
when i look in to your dark round eyes,
you seem so distant, your persona is now a disguise.
For someone who was once so full of lifes existence.
Now all thats left of you is your remote eerily distance.
Its despairing how much you have changed today.
you are still here in flesh but it feels like your souls passed away.
There will never be an escape from this, it will be here until the end.
Its sad but its true, this is a disease that will never mend.
for a long time you had been quite content, your words where muddled but you always
smiled.
Theres none of that now as you have become even more of a child.
Its disturbing to watch this alzheimer's slowly destroying your mind,
especially for a woman who had a spirit that always shined.
Its easier to be remembered for the person you where before,
but someday this will all be over for you and you won't have to suffer from it anymore.
In my few quiet moments, I always say grace,
a mother first, trying to find my place,
my eyes are tired, every single day,
I’m praying for peace, to come some how, some way.
A co-worker's friendship is definitely great,
I work so hard, yet my bills are still late.
Im trying to juggle the roles, of being both mom and dad,
sometimes crying in bathroom, not wanting the kids to see me sad.
For them I work long hours, trying to make it all alright,
hiding the struggles that haunt me at night.
I want to be enough,
Why is this life so tough?
As a daughter, I wanted to make them proud,
but I suffer the burden of them humiliating me in front of a crowd.
A true love with someone I hope to share,
someone who means it when they say they’ll always be there.
For all that I strive to give, for all that I try,
here comes my racing thoughts,
asking myself why?
I dream of a moment where love holds the key,
to the genuine heart I have for them all,
something I fear they will never see.
Clarity, clarity, surely clarity is the most beautiful thing in the world, A limited, limiting clarity I have not and never did have any motive of poetry But to achieve clarity.
George Oppen
If it wasn't for poetry,
how would we portray stars of clarity?
Moon would appear silently ordinary,
how would we express that which is contrary?
Verses without stardust shimmer would be horrid,
no metrical composition would sound torrid.
No sapphire skies nor turquoise tides.
No ivory shores nor firefly guides.
No magic of butterflies dancing under moonlight.
A travesty of no lullabies to ease before midnight.
Horizons would appear blank, dismal and dark -
your muted muse would forfeit their spark.
If a poet's conscience suffers a premature death,
how would you honour their quill's last breath?
How would you express that painful goodbye?
No legacy for our words to poetically beautify.
Unable to honour memories of the deceased -
an unwritten elegy cannot praise a masterpiece.
Autumn would just be a modified season.
Spring slowly blossom without a reason.
Summer would bring no wonder in flowers.
Winter would be grey with freezing showers.
Would music suffer from atrocious lyrics,
unmetered songs only lead to hysterics.
Would poetic love exist?
Would our lips have ever kissed?
No expressions to defeat hate.
No epodic justice to fate.
No sweet sonnets to revere.
Shakespeare's world would disappear.
Romeo would not woo Juliet.
Literature students would forget
bards who bled ballads before us -
what would lovers have to discuss?
No angst or alliterations.
No 3am damnations.
No syllable creations.
No lustful flirtations.
An end to narrations.
All lost translations.
If there were only ugly words,
would it be the end of singing birds?
No emancipation of the oppressed.
No catharsis for the depressed.
Hearts would repress and suppress.
Demons would stress and digress.
If it wasn't for poetry,
I would still be a mystery.
I would not speak in rhymes,
there would be nothing to define.
My soul a misunderstood metaphor,
drowning in an inkless reservoir.
Life would become a burden,
as petals die in my poetic garden
and after everything has been said and done,
there would be no Poetic One.
Sorrow,
you moan my name day and night
and seek out my anguish, grief, and misery
making me melancholy and mournful . . .
because of you I pick up a pen
and woebegone words . . . drip, drip, drip, drip-
then, leave me until you call me back
to embrace me, so I may suffer again-
and like a lover, I hold you
pressed to my heart . . .
__________________________
April 13, 2020 (Edit)
Poetry/Verse/pressed to my heart
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1243-569-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Submitted to Strand Pick 11 Contest
sponsor, Brian Strand
Honorable Mention
This song is Inspired by Life experience! I'm sure many women will understand this situation. Remember that everyone deserves Love and Light.
Blessings.
He wouldn't listen to his Heart
By Michelle Morris
12/01/2025
Oh-oh-oh....
No-no-no...
Now you're just another guy
Who's lost a lovely girl
Because he didn't have the Courage
To make her a part of his World
Now you're just an empty shell
Being flung about by the Ocean
No place to call Home anymore
No Love or Light or Devotion
And in the empty spaces
Between his heartbeats and his breaths
There is this constant ache he feels
While his mind is a tangled mess
Because he wouldn't listen to his Heart
He ignored the whispers of his Soul
He thought she'd never walk away
He assumed she'd make him Whole
But women are not here to suffer
We're not here to fix broken men
We cannot wait around forever
In the Hope that they'll become Legends
Because not every man is prepared to grow
Into the Hero of His Story
Most are too afraid to try
To chase the Holy Grail of Glory
Now you're just another guy
Who's lost a lovely girl
Because he didn't have the courage
To make her a part of his world
Now you're just an empty shell
Being flung about by the ocean
No place to call home anymore
No Love or Light or Devotion
And in the end the loneliness grows
The distances increase between us
More women walk away each day
Because in their Divinity they Trust
It doesn't mean we love men less
It just means we've learned our lessons
We've learned to Love ourselves enough
To accept the Lessons and the Blessings
We cannot expect a man to become
The very best version of himself
If he's in Denial and Darkness
And refuses anyone's Help
We cannot believe in their Possibilities
We have to accept the Reality in front of our eyes
Not everyone embraces their Gifts
Not everyone wants Love and Light
Now you're just another guy
Who's lost a lovely girl
Because he didn't have the courage
To make her a part of his world
Now you're just an empty shell
Being flung about by the ocean
No place to call home anymore
No Love or Light or Devotion
© Michelle Morris, 2025
Comes a time when to strike or to feint
and let go the cudgel but know not which.
All that I know from my own complaint
is that life can be a bastard sonofabit*h
Comes a time when strength is not to fight
and forgiveness not for saints and martyrs,
when soil grown sour and the vine in blight
reap the fruit of the sins of the fathers.
Let go the past, it will not save you,
live and forget when all steadfastness is done.
It is a far far better thing we do
when all is right between Father and Son.
Comes a time when our conceit is to wait
with much to deem but nothing to say,
but it’s always too soon before it’s too late
when all that is given us is taken away.
Comes a time to forgive, not aggrieve
lest all that remains is a bitter chide,
but truly he that gives will richly receive
and he that stumbles suffer his pride.
Let go the past, it will not free you,
live and forget when all steadfastness is done.
It is a far far better thing we do
when all is right between Father and Son.
Written: October 2007
What The Cabbage Boils Down To Is This,
It’s Them, And Us
6/10/2020
Some in Government advocate taking away guns,
yet the majority of them have armed security.
Those who scream loudest about open borders & building a wall,
have walls and gates to hide behind.
They tell us we can’t go to work but stay at home each day,
because we’re in this together, politicians stay home-
but draw full pay.
I’m in the camp who believes,
we wouldn’t be doing a lot of these things;
if politicians had to suffer by the same rules they set for the rest of us-
“Jus’ sayen’”!