Long Surviving Poems
Long Surviving Poems. Below are the most popular long Surviving by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Surviving poems by poem length and keyword.
Celebration of death
Peter Gargano and his
son Peter memories
meeting at the clock
restaurant fort myers
right before traumatic
brain injury blessings
many laughs prayers
are with the family
reminders from license
plates RFP RIP it’s really
helpful getting terrorists
threats on license plates
especially when I have
to get 12 nerve blocks
injections in my head today
actually every 25 days
traumatic headaches
severe pain and suffering
memory care centers
after surviving hurricanes
I’m reminded of hurricane
Charlie grateful an yet
traumatic events Peter
remembering Peter Gargano
the the trauma it’s almost
like he’s still with us like I
didn’t witness his dead body
leaving this world or all thee
other wise guys hitmen
The Don of Don Boss of Bosses
all dead controlling terrorist
threats on license plates
I’m reminded of mob boss Frankie
boy cali being gunned down holding
his license plate organized crime
terrorising me for wearing
wires pregnant buying
weapons and drugs from junk
sick officers being a rat exposing
mafia hitmen no I’m no
Sammy the Bull or John Gotti jr
big Paul bambino who suffered
a rash from his Mexican maid
Christmas time before being gunned
down without ointment of course
not Carlo Gambino nor Domenico Cefalu
no just a mom a grandma the fbi
just warned me my ex husband
set fires with gargano killing 9
people before I knew a car bomb
ignited my skull Peter stood over
my blood soaked body to go
over investments insurance
monies my memory of my
wearing wires pregnant for the
fbi saved my life today is a
gargano kind of day happy
heavenly birthday Peter Pete
and Peters Just in case I’m
brutally murdered by this ongoing
hit on my life because I refuse to
allow the mafia extort my American
Poetry brings me to tears today fondly
remember me writing American poetry
I need you in my arms
I need you by my side
I will cause you no harm
Understand my pain
"Only in this lifetime"
Along this path
I was absorbed through misery
I became known as
What you all call today
An outcast
In all my words
What would make you think
You couldn’t come to me
I’ll do all I can for you
I have fallen from grace
So I can no longer adore truth
Right or wrong, for better or worse
I could never leave you without a home
I try to do more good than terrible
But these are times of Paine
And they make life unbearable
All kinds of suffrage in this living
Find someone to be there
Better times to envision
These overshadowing events
and circumstances
Shape us into the individuals
We might one day grow to be
You say you’re making it
I’ve grown to become a college brat
I too am surviving
Maybe one of us
Will one day relax upon a better day
Other than that
There’s no wishing this weather away
How can I be what was never taught
The personality I sold
Was the image you all bought
And if I don’t fare through the night
It doesn’t mean it wasn’t a fair fight
Days I could see myself
Through your eyes
As a child flying a kite
So smile things will be alright
In a stand still moment
You ran away from home
Ambitious and following
The wrong scent
In depth I think
So my thoughts
Seem to rush the children away
It’s not that I preach
But I can’t afford to lose
So I push the obvious Pilgrim away
Gone silent, visually awry
Awaiting an angel to call me
Witnessed my shadow
Fall not far from me
Sympathetic exposure
Amidst the thunder and clouds
Is it okay to wonder aloud
Did I bring us
The worst of you and me
On my knees
I need your arms around me once more
A pint of Evan Williams by my side
Did I become vulnerable
Me or you whom shall we grieve
Don’t you wish things were wonderful
On my last stance
Until then and perhaps
This old man’s back may collapse
Takes a breath, for he’s not leaving
He relapses and keeps breathing
Form:
It has come out of academia,
and gets some play in the media too,
they cry about ‘decolonization,’
as if time is something they can undo.
They all say it is wrong to go against this,
and I have only a bachelor’s degree,
so who am I to question all of this?
We must decolonize! Listen to me!
We must look to our own America,
and realize that we just don’t belong here,
all pale people should go back to Europe,,
but doing that’s not enough, it appears,
the black people here also have to go,
they must be returned to African shores,
Asians must leave, and mixed blood Latins types,
they can’t be tolerated here anymore.
All the roads and rails also have to go,
since they all came from colonizer minds,
and the natives left can’t live in houses,
they must return to pre-colonized times,
Tipis, longhouses, and no metal tools,
no medicines that aren’t native to them,
smart people say we should decolonize,
they must be living as nomads again!
And oh, how I wish that we could stop there,
but America does not stand alone,
Europe once conquered so much of the world,
the influences they left have now grown,
like those famous Indian long-jackets,
they came from British colonizer frock coats,
Yoga come from British calisthenics,
it must all stop if there is to be hope!
Africa should not be using railroads,
or surviving using high-output crops,
colonizers brought these things to their lands,
for the sake of their people, they must stop!
The Japanese should not be building cars,
or make electronics amongst the best,
they should reject all of the Meiji years,
should cast out all influence of the west,
You cannot wear jeans or dare go online,
cannot wear glasses in front of your eyes,
the colleges spoke, and we must listen,
throw it all out! We must decolonize!
…or, we could just ignore this sh-t and go on with our lives.
Meet Otis; drug addict and alcoholic.
He walks the razor's edge of life daily.
A sad sack of a man bedeviled by stubborn demons.
Swimming against the tide of recovery; crying out for help.
Surviving one day at a time;
struggling with addictions threatening to submerge him in a quicksand,
wrestling with harrassing voices in his discombobulated head.
They keep swirling around him like a noisy, bothersome flies.
He's pulled into a rabbit hole of temptation
everywhere he goes. His gnawing urge...
to drink alcohol growing stronger and stronger at happy hours.
His addiction to cocaine and heroin is just as potent.
Each day, he tries his best
to stay sober, but can't do it alone.
Submitted for...
Writing Prompts - Fragmented Spaces - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Theme: sadness in life
Dates posted: 07/29/2021
They met back in school when perms were in style..
Now they’re fifty-seven and wickedly wild.
A sisterhood forged in detention and pranks..
Now fueled by cocktails and cackles and tanks.
Derani and Adrianne? Soulmates for sure..
Joined at the hip and bonded by lore.
They gossip, they giggle, they drink in sync..
And dare you to challenge their best-friend link.
Then there’s Jacqui.. a goddess of stage..
She channels Cher’s drama, Eurythmics rage.
She belts out *"Believe"* with a wig and a strut..
Mic in one hand, the other on her butt.
Michelle may be small, but don't take her lightly..
Her shoulders are boulders, her grip is unsightly.
She once arm-wrestled a guy twice her size..
He cried, she flexed, and winked both her eyes.
Tracey’s just ditched a man full of crap..
She’s sipping red wine and plotting a slap.
She’s single, she’s spicy, she’s dancing on chairs..
Shouting, “Freedom looks *hot* — and I’ve got new wares!”
And dear Marlene, the host with the most..
Baby sis of Adrianne, proud to boast.
But don’t cross her vibe or you’re bound to regret..
She’ll say “ off” before lighting a cigarette.
They toast to the past, to the mayhem and men..
To surviving their youth.. and doing it again.
No filters, no limits, no shame in their game..
These queens of the chaos will never be tame.
Like Winter
predicts Summer
Dark grey suffering
is not yet total green forest
and blue sky loss
As one cold
lonely voice
isolating experience
need not preclude
warm
yet alone
embracing vulnerable memories
transparent images
anticipating full-bodied reconnections,
compassionate life choices
As EarthTribal respiration
invites EarthMother regeneration
wombs reproductive
eggs
nuts
seeds
Surviving thistles
not yet Othering
weeds
As painful apartheid
is not yet anxious death
nor anticipating life
As isolating trauma discoveries
are not yet therapeutic
solitary thoughts
anticipating glad feelings
passionate
about sacred intimacy,
boundless recovery.
Who is that woman in the mirror?
The big blank eyes.
The mouth that never smiles.
The hands, always shaking.
I don't know her.
What can I do?
I am afraid of everything and everybody.
I only want to be home.
But I don't want to be alone.
I don't feel safe.
Why am I always crying?
Anxiety attacks that take my breath away.
Flashbacks of violence, so lifelike.
My body still hurts from his fists.
I don't know why I can't heal.
When will I be me again?
He stole who I was.
He broke me into a million pieces.
Then he gave the pieces back.
I don't know where the last piece is.
Where will I end up?
If I don't have that last piece,
Am I still a survivor?
I'm a blank image.
Alone. Unsafe.
Crying, anxiety, flashbacks and hurting.
Unhealed.
Please tell me,
Is that really "surviving"?
She didn’t deserve it
Yet death never ceases.
She was the brightest girl in the room
Despite injuries blocking her passion.
She conjured smiles and laughter and eye rolls
With everything she did.
Then she experienced her first loss
And the candle flickered if only for a moment.
Then she was back to herself
For even death could not stop her.
Until it tried again.
And after it failed another time,
It came again.
All in less than a year.
I sat and watched in silence
Watched her being comforted after sharing the news of yet another funeral
And wondered
How she does it
How she still gets up in the morning
Puts on a smile
And keeps on living
Not just surviving.
Because I was her just a few short years ago.
But instead of staying strong like she does
I crumpled
And gave in to the weight of the loss.
Yet this girl still has that innocent look on her face
And the spark in her eyes.
So either she’s so good at faking
She’s convinced the most experienced empath,
Or we could all take a page out of her book
And take what life throws at us with her grace.
I was born into a war
I was born into a war
I Was born into this war
And I couldn’t even talk
I didn’t know how to walk
I hit the ground surviving
Heavy fire, Heavy losses
Broken will broken compass
On death ground
Death behind me
Death ahead of me
Surrounded No space to retreat
No way home
This is no way to live
Its no way to go
The enemy was within
No secrets no strategy
No manoeuvres No being clever
This is not go This is not chess
I am no Hannibal I am no Scipio
I am no Ceaser I no Napoleon
I am no general I am no emperor
I am no conqueror
I don’t make the decisions
Just obedience to violence
Mano a mano
Running low on ammo
Not a moment to breathe
Blood all over the camo
Screams and limbs flying
Bodies piling, blood is flowing
The flies are multiplying
The maggots are feasting
And its only just starting
what is certain
I will die here
I will die at the end
I don’t get to make it out ahead
I will be dead
I have not given up but I know the reaper
He’s a friend
I have seen him hugging my brothers
I have seen him show spite
I have seen him show mercy
he is the angel of destiny
Ordaining us to be saints
Or giving swords to be martyr’s
The pain is mounting
And I am out of cocaine
The medics are out of morphine
And its already too late for me
I am bleeding , badly wounded
Intestines are hanging
One arm is missing
I am being brave
But heart can only take me so far
Fighting to the end feeling woozy
I can’t hear a thing I think I am dying
I can’t just lay down and die
I can’t just lay down to die
I-can’t let them just win
I can’t just stop.
Preparation being the treat in the trick
Buckle up
The start leading into Halloween
Nothing in between
One scream into multitudes
Sudden eerie conclude
Darkness fills the sky
Horror upon horror and no one knows why
Dead souls having a need to rise
The night of fright through surprise
Blood thirst crave
Beyond behave
Souls searching for flesh
Maneuvering rapidly with the time left
Hidden horror on the hour
Outward approach
Spoken words that can’t get out
Lightning and Thunder alert
The flash with an electrifying jolt
Awaken to rise
Night of Michael Jackson’s Thriller
Fright cold spelled chiller
Screams to whisper
Surviving if one can
The Full Moon won’t say
Run if you dare
The goons were be fair
All about Quench, Eat and satisfy
Fright Night
Sheer delight