Long Suffering Poems

Long Suffering Poems. Below are the most popular long Suffering by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Suffering poems by poem length and keyword.


Goree Island

Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Goree Island
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: February/2014


 I see the blood
of my ancestors 
that swell
 in the Atlantic ocean 
on 
Goree Island -

The unmerciful ill winds 
that fell 
over my people, 
in Senegal, 
on that 
horrific night, 
brought the European's, 
across the Atlantic, 
to our Village -

Everything 
in the world 
changed forever, 
and 
will never be forgotten,
when the "unthinkable" 
cruel acts 
of slavery, 
cloaked my people 
like 
darkness in the night -

White men 
dressed in British 
formal attire, 
brought with them,
 bullwhip's, chains, machetes, 
and rifles,
 to capture us.....

 to ENSLAVE us!

We were brutally beaten, 
and 
taken to 
the House of Slaves, 
on Goree Island -

The malice intent
of
the British,
intensified our
suffering
at the slave house,
as they
cuffed us to
the walls,
in neck, waist, 
and 
ankle chains -

Days would pass,
some of us died
from 
diseases,
and
starvation,

while waiting
for 
the slave ship 
to come 
from the Americas -

The hideous inhumane
acts
by the British,
sold us
as property,

as we were 
auctioned off as 
commodity,  
to the Americas, 
during 
the Atlantic Slave Trade

The mournful ness 
in our helpless eyes, 
spoke of horrendous fear,  
as a feeling of distraught,
distress, 
and despair, 
clothed us 
like 
death -

We are innocent people
that will never 
see our families again 
 Our homeland again - 

It's unfathomable, 
to see black souls in chains,  
taking those final usurious 
steps towards the "Door Of No 
Return," 
in the House Of Slaves, 
which left its ugly mark,
 on the whole global earth -

Once through
 the  Door Of No Return,  
we were sold to the Americas, 
and 
faced a future of 
severe beatings, burnings, 
hangings, lynchings, 
and 
rape -

To this day, 
ancient spirits 
of 
black people, 
still scream in rage
 on 
Goree Island, 

where an untold number 
of us were 
slaughtered, 
and 
branded 
before walking 
through the slave door,
of 
an uncertain future -

The ominous clouds 
of slavery,
 will 
forever cast 
a dark shadow, 
over the
House Of Slaves, 
the Door Of No Return, 
and the world -

Goree Island, 
in the Atlantic Ocean,
will forever 
cry tears of blood, 
from the souls of 
black people -
© Ken Jordan  Create an image from this poem.


It's Amazing What Therapy Brings Up

The mind is an amazing key
With the right guidance words will trigger memories
From anger and rage to double personalities
Emotions will rise like the oceans tides  

Your muscles will twitch with every cellular connection
Hurt, denial abandonment too
Like a looking glass into the past everything is a reflection of you
And not everything you see will be rosy and clean

Tears and overwhelming fears our bodies remember the slightest infraction
Our habits and beliefs play a major role too
Pain and suffering are a big part of what makes us do the things that we do
Without remorse or a second thought we push things to the back of our minds

But all through our lives we can feel something is just not right
We search for those answers like a child playing hide and seek
Sometimes we will get hints and images to help us remember and think
We’ll catch a glimpse from another life as it rises to the top

Like the coming attractions of new movies your mind plays them through the night 
You’ll see your kids, wife and family but as soon as you zoom in to see you
Everything fades to white and suddenly your heart starts beating faster
All the rage and anger start rising up again

Each memory triggers another memory it’s a never ending process 
And it’s not an easy path however when you consider the alternative
And you look at the life you have so far lead it is kind of like neo in the Matrix
Once you take that pill there is no going back. 

You realize the program you’ve been following has been sabotaging you since birth
It’s a negative dysfunction that only supports your inevitable destruction
Debilitating thoughts that are is still playing from long, long ago
These idea’s became part of your core belief and it’s time to let them go!!..

Abusing yourself no longer serves you its time to learn how to heal
Gently open up your heart and allow people to help you feel
As I read my own words I envision a group of healers circling me with compassion
Each one in the there own way helping me to release these toxic fears

I’ve been poisoned by my own family from generation to generation
And I fought for years to stay positive but their abusive habits still affected me deeply
through their yelling, screaming and verbal attacks that numbed me in my years
I am uncertain what saved me but it could’ve been that angel I’d seen holding me dear
© Ron Flatow  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

No One Gets Out Alive

Though (supposedly) only
     the good die young, urn holding
     cremated ashes a mere cup
full, every last man standing falls,
     cuz nobody else
     escapes un pup
yule lore blitzkrieg, 
     or aging gracefully,

     the unavoidable eventual fate,
     (mortal fateful demise),
     sans the remaining unsung
anonymous peoples meet up
with the grim reaper,
     who will ineluctably disrupt
the carryings on
     with each and every individual

     (non plus ultra all other
     life forms as well)
     gradually or with abrupt,
and unannounced debut
     scythe lent lee appearing
     to whisk away the
     honest and/or corrupt
whether taking their

     first meal of the day,
     and/or last sup
per, perhaps sitting quietly,
     when body electric
     amp pare rent lee
     receives ohm 
     my word fatal invite,
     whereat permanent shocking

     quiescence doth, sans
     stealth maneuver erupt
tragically, indiscriminately, 
     and blithely
     mowing down innocent civilians,
     and/or training fate squarely
     upon heads of soldiers
     life during wartime,

where opposing armies regale
     while marching men go hup...
to three fore (akin
     to a story field day),
     winning booby prize, viz
counting on qua,
     asper winning lottery
     and/or Stanley Cup

major blood bath rendered
     significant counting coup
whereat each opposing fighting
     force figuratively doth slew
the other, analogously dost defeat
making mince meat
re: as uniformed brigades in heat
of wanton killing

     fields sliced minced,
     chopped nada so vary neat,
via stealth unable dupe, nor cheat
death be not proud,
     et cetera, nonetheless,
     grimly forced to greet
     a bonanza coup won,
     only tubby beat

tin to pulp by adept
     skull and excellent fleet
of foot (top
     notch crafted) sweet
(albeit) temporary victory
     tasting said treat
assailing, bruiting , and/or
     weathering stance versus

     alternating between defensive
     and/or offensive
     use of cross bones,
     in a hail of bullets
     instantaneously didst greet
fast and furious i.e. suffering

     deadly raking har row
ring slaughter, an entire
     phalanx gone, where
     (metaphorical terrible swift sword)
no uniformed fighter
     can never call retreat.

Bat Crazy 5



"Bat Crazy 5"


Some say

she was batsh** crazy
life hits the windscreens 
in the labyrinth of life
that way

the foot remains pinned
to the metal, fast to the floor
full speed, left brained left hand 
holding hard-gripped the gear stick

an upwards inflection, “You know”,
in the Queen’s Land, "all under control"
the open palm under the shaft
moving all the way up to 5, 

reflecting on the mirror rearview
she watches the eyes
of her child
dreaming of open highways

the foot remains pinned
to the metal, fast to the floor
full speed, left brained left hand
holding hard-gripped the gear stick

never once moving from 5 
the left all the way up to targa 5
right hand up on the wheel
left hand down right up to 5

windows spitting emeralds
like a baphomet 
the two finger salute
the other above so below

watches on

"here we go again",
the 1 above it all 
watches on 
as above so below

that 1's long-suffering 
that way, aghast, but resolute, 
that 1 has never-ending reserves 
of eternal patience

and watches on 
perplexed

her mind geared on 
how to kill off 
a spider 
and his sister, next

changing lanes
easier said than done
when you're hell-bent on 
Freedom

the highway sign 
Happy New Year 
flashes ever onwards by, 
foot to the floor 

left brain baffled
at forgiveness
at Christmas 
long gone by 

right hand on the wheel
left hand down 
open palmed 
shifting gears 

accelerating increduality
towards the accuracy 
in the justice of karma 
drivers sitting on both shoulders

inside the vehicle 
holding the wheel
the internal speaks
to the universe 

listening 
for kindness 
and answers
on a lost highway

Blue Sky 
nods, as if in agreement,
that 1's always amused -
but never confused, that way

(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)






“Is it possible to switch dimensions? 

There is currently no conceivable way to get to these if they exist, and they may only be possible, not actual. To travel between realities, they need to be in proximity. To be in proximity and not interact, they need to be incompatible. If it is a compatible universe you could travel to, it is already here.” 



"Won’t you let me know, 
if you made it home that night
Oh won’t you let me know
If our bones made it home alright..."
Form: Narrative

Jesus Did It All---For 'You and Me'

Jesus had already gone through it All-
Jesus done it All--For "You and Me “Us
When Jesus went to the Cross
He went through it All
Suffering -humiliation and Pain
Spiritually- Physically- Mentally-
Mind Will and Emotions
He died and Risen...
Redeeming us... giving us Eternal life... 
He did it ALL... for Us All
So we don't have to...
We don't have to go through it all...

He went through suffering and pain
Being used by people... abused... 
Mocked... people made fun of His beautiful name
Jesus went through All types of Tormenting
He had gone through it all... for all God's Creation

Devil-comes to Steal... Kill and destroy
Lies.. Torments.. he deceives.. deploys
Devil wants to suck the life out of you
Spiritually.. Physically.. Mentally.. 
By Stress.. Torment... abuse 
Of your mind... will and emotions
Devil... wants to take away anything 
That God wants to give you... 
Human and Eternal Life... Love... Happiness...  Blessings... 
And Blessings that God has already Blessed you with
And anything that God reveals to you to do... 
For His Divine Light to shine through

For instance... words of writes
Speaking Truth... 
Letting others know about Jesus Christ

Come to Jesus... He Did it All
He gone through All suffering and pain
So you and me.. Don’t have to go through it again
Out of His Love.. Divine Love..

Just Trust and Believe then Receive
By His Divine Stripes.. Through Blood of Christ
You and me are healed
Spiritual Cleansed.. Redeemed from all sins..
Our sins are washed away.. the moment
Jesus was crucified on that day...
We have been sealed... God's Protection is Real
Protects us Spiritually Physically.. Mentally
Protects our Minds.. Hearts.. 
Once You become Born-again.. 
Nothing can Pluck You out of Our Father's Son
We Shall always be... a part...
Of God's Divine Family Tree..
Just beware.. of the devils tricks..
Don't believe anything the devil tries 
For with him... he deceives... lies...
Try to get you to disbelieve...
Anything pertaining... to Jesus Christ Our King...

Come to Jesus... Believe and Receive
All God wants to give to Thee
Come... While there is still time... 
Don't let the devil... trick your mind
To make you think... You have all the time
In the world... for Time is at Hand...
Come... for You are in God's Divine Plans...

Love always in Christ.. your *Star Light
© Star Light  Create an image from this poem.
Form:


Sorry My Poetry Has Lacked So Much Lately

I was looking over my stuff here, and itseems I've lost the talents I once knew here.
I write ancedotes for my column. I do journalism- always some deadline or project that I work well under the pressure of it all.

Writing is what I truly love!

There is just so many varied types I do, my poetry is suffering.

I enjoy reading the great writers here.
Sometimes I do not comment or remark because it is art and I'm at a loss of words.

It's just been enlightening to live such a full life, and to be right here, right now amazes me. I'm searching for some old therapeutic writes. I was on alot of medications at one time.
A victim of spousal abuse.

I came back up North severly medicated, drolling and my family would whisper, she'll never be right again.

Post Tramatic Stress Disorder aint no joke.
To be me, knowing what I do, and how very long it took me to recover...

When some never do.

Many men were nice to me along the way, poetrysoup has the best men in the world, they will embrace your differences, and encourage you to keep your chin up, and keep your pen flowing.
Vince I love you! Frank, you are the best friend that a girl to ever have! You've sent me so many books of stamps to write you back and also send you the latest edition of the magazine I am featured in monthly. Everyone has those times in their life, when nothing goes right. How you knew without me saying a thing.
Are you alright? a concerned letter in the mail when I was having it rough- and the presents that made me cry. It may have been a framed poem, but it meant the world to me, and still does.

And lastly John,
Why oh why did I pick the most just man to give the hardest time to?
He has put up with so much from me over the years. I love him with everything in me. If not for being a true servant of God where would I be without him.
I remember 5 or six years ago, and his lady, whats your problem?!
Well John, you are the very sweetest man I've ever known in my life... without you I would still be cold to the Lord. So many years and mile stones along the way. I can leave here, but just like the sands of Florida, you'll always see me back.
Thank You All, for reading me, but more - to support the struggling writers that fall between the cracks in society.
I love you Frank. I love you John. Don't ask which one more, because John is single and Frank is not hehehehe
© Cindy Lu  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

Premium Member Revolutionary Para-Dimes

A difference between compassion and sympathy,

between co-empathic passion
and unilateral YangPatriarchal-empathic, 
ego-empowering intent,

Compassion matures passion FOR
into shared passion WITH.

This same emergent fluidity
cannot be said of sympathy
for suffering of Other,
who remains another dissociated Other

Exempted from democratic inclusion
in further considerations
of constitutionally appropriate applications
of Golden Rules
to those who remain
in darker xenophobic shadows
more appropriate for retributive reaction
than restoration to peaceful justice response.

This same contrast and compare
may also apply to political empowerment
and more of the same 
competitive economic investment,

to global enlightenment
and more localized, and often nationalized, pockets
of self-enrichment,

to recreative cooperative love
and to recreational competitive lust

Now that some of us
revolutionaries and evangelists
of the ecological 1960s
have been given this great green gift
of old age wisdom,
what on Earth
shall we choose to do with
such awesomely sacred/secular
private/public sectoral 
nonpartisan WisdomCircle responsibility?

Settle for fading sympathy,
gradual depressive loss of sensory health awareness,
of physical consciousness? 

Or, Reconsider ways to optimize active compassion,
compassionately lively communication,

fragrantTrue and savoredBeauty,
bicamerally touched
and binomially felt Pos/Neg/InBetween
1/0 double-binary positive polyvagal neurological 
systemic health structure

[Wow! That was a lot to dispassionately ask.  Sorry.]

non-violently heard
and green revolutionary 20/20 revisioned,

Co-passionate DNA/RNA EarthTribes
currently in living residential relationships
growing hotly combative climates
of anthro-privileged salvific empathy,

Seeking more cool green Wisdom Circles
of democratic sacred energy discernment
within and among consensual multicultures
of ecosystemic health-sensory consciousness.

How is universal EarthWealth 
compassion
different
yet often felt the same
as unilateral LeftBrain EitherEgo/OrEcoSystemic Health and Safety

RightBrain Truth and Beauty
in sacredly holonic 
CoPassion

with great transition gratitude
for this Old WisdomCircle
healthy democratic gift
of revolutionary evangelicals
in cooperative multiculturing redevelopment.

Just a Belief

Oh! Why didn’t I know earlier?
That I was being trodden into pain,
The pain that could leave my heart in unamendable pieces,
Pieces that are so difficult to forget the past,
The past that is now the painful present.

I believed and I believed and I believed,
Until my heart was in obsession of belief,
I believed and let my thoughts follow,
Follow as I digested each word that came from your mouth,
Whispering into my ears how ‘truly’ you loved me.

I believed when you shouted the word ‘affection,’
Into my ears, that were always there to listen to your lovely voice,
I believed when you whispered into my ears, “I love you,”
Yes I believed those words which made me crazy,
And slave to your false love.

I believed you when you promised to be with me “forever,”
I believed you the way Adam believed Eve,
And blindly he became, only to be driven out of Eden,
Because of the taste of the forbidden fruit,
I believed you too, and now I am out of that “paradise”

I believed you with all my soul,
Devoted myself to you as a slavery who seeks freedom from his master,
Only to be betrayed by the wrong perceptions of his master,
I believed you as a sinner, who partakes Holy Sacrament for redemption,
Only to find himself still entangled by the pains of his unforgiven sins.

I believed you with the whole of myself,
I believed you when you kissed me with your soft sweet lips,
Not knowing that it was Judas kiss that betrayed the Son of Man,
And that kiss also subjected me to unending pain,
That kiss… I wish I couldn’t feel your lips,

Yes, I believed you…
Followed you like a lost sheep that needed guidance and acceptance,
Decided to follow your path, because I saw love in you,
Love that blinded my heart,
And let me head to a destination of sorrow and long suffering.

I believed you my Love,
Nights never passed without a dream of your love evolving in my mind,
A day never passed without an image of your perfection streaming in my thoughts,
Every minute I loved you, cherished you, adored you,
But you have betrayed all my beliefs…
Left me to nurse the wounds of my dumb beliefs.

If only I would have known,
Known that my beliefs were bloody lies,
Lies that encrypted my heart to your slavery,
Slavery of “discipleship” in the name of love,
Love that only was infatuation,
I wouldn’t have said “YES.”

Just a belief?
I wish…

Living Law and Dead Beacon

The idea of a living constitution
has the same forensic indeterminacy
as a committed dream.

I am content to trust this dream to the end
to have it fill my cup of hope all day and night.
I am content to receive its order
to hasten to obey without a pause.

But, the old voice sounds
unrelentingly in the chamber: Do not
compromise. Punish.
Crucify him.

The infirm musing of a perpetual dreamer
rising up with eyes wild for relief.

I am content with the terror and anticipation that
keeps turns by watching me:
Justice, once imagined, cannot be undone.

I have been left to think along these lines
to look for the abandonment of arcane unfairness
months after months.

The months
burn up as a fading lantern
homage to the majesty of the absurd:
A muse easy to bear, Camusian laughter to
suffering’s exalted well —
what single rule might break the dry spell?
Sometimes the unforeseen, the unpredictable
springs in the heart of justice
bending its way upward
again and yet again
towards a distant point
all unaccountably, into the strengthening clasp
of fresh now-born idea,
nearer to binding faith
than wild dismembering injustice.

When the far-distant element
of suffering humanity
looms out more clear;
the faint, far, complex notes of hope
its head moves near
and new flicks of justice’s well
unfolds beyond the known.

Is there any new depth to this well?
Say, what is its true nature?
Quietly nature covers over
the dying bird and the dead rover.
If justice’s dead, it is as though
a robin died beneath the snow
tucked away neatly, whose bright eyes
once stared with impudent surprise
at every tit-bit flung to her.
Now every season we must bear
to live without its whistled air,
for law lives beneath the Spring,
like a sequestered paradise
exiled from the steady hammer of faith,
a trackless rice field
ever trudging through groves of
crouching, unconquered territories.

Oh enchanted universe
conqueror of earth’s stadium
in your wild, singing glory
the faults you committed live.
Come hear my sharpened cries
surely, you can hear my note of crisis.

Ceaselessly I raise my cry.
My cry ascends and floats away
scattered by whirling winds afar.

* “Endure what you suffer as being a father’s punishment.” (Heb. 12:5b-7)

Author's note: written on the anniversary of Harvard's abuse of my human rights

Premium Member - Holy Spirit -

Not a period
                                        maybe a comma -

                                            Why illness,

                                          why suffering,

                                           why injustice -

                                          I light a candle
                                         for care and love
                                           Let the light 
                                                shine
                                             like dawn

                                         Give us strength

                                             and hope -

                                        In faith and trust

                                      Nothing is impossible

                                               by God -

                                        The Lord's promise -

                                     Oh God, hear our prayer

                                                 Amen


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                                     @               @    @
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                                    From        @
                                        Me         @
                                          TO         @
                                         You        @   @@@
                                   @@@@  @    @           @
                                @                @@@       @@
                                      @@@       @   @@
                                                       @
                                                       @
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01/12/2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Form: Verse

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