Long Sustained Poems
Long Sustained Poems. Below are the most popular long Sustained by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sustained poems by poem length and keyword.
A culture is sustained by its traditions
And its quality is known by the fruits
Of those traditions.
We live in a time of change
When tradition is challenged and discarded
Simply for being traditional.
We don’t know what will replace it
We just want “hope and change”
With blind faith it’ll be better.
But that’s not the way civilizations are built
That is how they are destroyed.
When the bottom falls out
Morals are abandoned
Values are reversed
The baby is thrown out
And the old dirty bathwater consumed
As if nectar.
Then drunk on delusion
The revelers cry
When in the morning
The large, shiny Trojan Horse is empty
And it’s clear their life will never be the same.
(8/30/26)
In a land beneath the sky that does not open with the daylight,
surrounded by the mountain peaks clutching the clouds of silence,
lies the hamlet of Barovia in mystique valley of perpetual twilight,
mantled at the vale’s edge by impenetrable wall of fog, the Mists.
The people live cautious lives in the shadow of monolithic misery
with faces bearing the expression of endurance shaped by suspicion.
They speak of bells that ring when no hand they see touch them,
in every conversation there’s the same unspoken topic, the castle.
Castle Ravenloft rises from its pillars of stone-like scars on the sky,
with the towers driven upward like charred ribs against the drifting fog.
Enclosed within its walls of malice the air is saturated with memories,
thoughts coil in corridors with footsteps echo even when no one walks.
Every stone of the castle is loyal to its master, Count Strahd von Zarovich,
who exists as a paradox, immortal yet decaying, powerful yet imprisoned,
moving through the castle like a steadfast notion that cannot be dismissed,
for shadows lengthen in his reverence, as if Ravenloft is his body, not home.
He is a polymath of cruelty, an epitome of endless pain that never wanes.
When he rides as the mist through the valley the Barovian hearts freeze,
and yet, he isn’t sustained by fear alone, at the core of his timeless longing
lies his love, Tatyana, who slipped through his fingers, to be a curse to the land.
Yet, Barovia endures the plight, as in secret moments fragile hope still flickers,
for the story remains unfinished, waiting at the edge of the day yet to dawn.
The tragedy of Barovia is in its replication, for every time a Tatyana is born,
a Strahd claims her, but the Mists take her away for the cycle to begin anew.
This passion to live
and love
fully
would grow with maturation,
not dissipate with age.
Such passion,
investment,
solidarity with Earth
and all Her beautiful,
yet suffering, Tribes
cannot remain mutually sustained
if I need to control each relationship's closure,
completion,
transition from prioritized work
to begin play again each renewing spring.
Concerns and distractions
about unpredictable seasons of severance
and rebirth
belong to self-aggrandizing outcomes
more than longing for self and other-healing process
through mutually compassionate commitments,
investments,
solidarity of sharing transparently unfinishable business.
Sharing the speaking and planning baton,
the on-stage executive floor,
with co-mentoring peers
and my next generations,
as past generations,
has led to this and each regenerative project,
deeply engaged each day,
pre-saged each night
Shaping and reshaping how I feel
apart and together,
nearly finished and yet just about re-beginning,
untheistic ego-sacred embrace
re-membering now,
yet not quite Paradise here.
Life is multi-generationally imcomplete
as love is death's ego-sacrificial completion.
Attachment,
passion for knowing/feeling Us
interdependent,
is detachment,
compassion for Ego's physical mortality,
leaving generous room
for investing in unfinished journeys,
inhabited loves,
habitual truths,
habitat trusts,
habits of play,
relationships,
vocations,
cooperatively healing busyness.
Exponential growth
of capital and unkindness
in wildly unsustainable urban centers
viciously competes without more virtuous cycles
of silent wilderness integrity
NonCapitalized outside my tribe
compassion co-investments
enveloping local community resilience planning
for optimal health and safety
Community trauma prevention
through personal and public
intimate and cultural
nonviolent
nonverbally sustained co-investments
in family and multiculturally extended friends,
sacred EarthTribe co-investors
All with nomad roots
emerging from a savory
sensory
sentient wilderness
Inviting privileged Elders
to become more actively curious
and retirement committed
to pay co-investments forward
to restore EarthHealth
resilient justice
through universal
cooperatively win/win
healthy and sacred bodhisattva
co-redemptive pay compassion forward
vocations
Fed and watered by silent wilderness
vacations
from finding sufficient time
and capital investors for one more war,
tolerating one more angry domestic retort,
this one final partisan revenge
While co-investing in sufficient wilderness time
and curious interest
and courageous urbane places
for spacious enculturing peace,
kind and quiet response
absorbing regenerate empowering health
and resilient enlightened promise.
“Please.”
A befitting word for filling up the blanks. Today is a blessing so far, with bright sunlight and a moment of efforts perhaps could gather you with a butterfly wandering around on the grass, here and there, a rather nice beginning.
But...
You had darker circles under your eyes. A pale face with a depressed mood, and it is almost always about those gloomy darker shadows, that drags the inner mind in ponderance , how far I am in, already, without permission, or even with permission, without asking questions?
I had a hundred and thousand reasons to believe that it is a Big, Big No, to think for stopping, and to stop decisively.
And, I was pleading inside, all along, that it is also my insanity, caught up in between.
And I am just that.
I am still there.
You are too.
My observation has a meaningfulness of anxiety in me. Those gazes always needed to pause and pause in silence, in written texts of a beautiful poem, where a poet earns a kingdom of flying colors in the heavens and the earth, in blues and waving sounds and also about floating lives, as these are all about a poem, a poem meaningful enough, to be composed in the aftermath.
I did not look back.
I sustained with all my failures of those unspoken probabilities.
Like the footsteps of an unseen postman, on the other side of the door.
Poetry Soup friends are rare, yet precious treasures
Offering kindred bond beyond poetic measures
Empowering communication prowess midst word-usage pressures
Tending to souls with every remarkable message that assures
Reaching hearts’ fissures with hope and love enclosures
Yes, indeed expressing honest approval of favor’s pleasures.
So privileged am I to have friends in this global poetry site
Opening to me opportunities to express myself as I earnestly indite*
Upon truths I believe can build lives according to what’s right
Prompted by my faith and relationship with God of blissful delight.
Friends, I thank you for your kind comments
Really pleased am I with your sincere encouragements
Influencing me to do my best in my submission-engagements
Enabling poetic gift* to be harnessed through your compliments---
Nourished and nurtured midst varied sentiments and predicaments
Dealt well around differing perspectives in my exposure-involvements
Satisfied am I, sustained with triumph of writing endowments.
*Psalm 45:1 My heart is inditing a good matter: I speak of the things which I have made touching the king: my tongue is the pen of a ready writer.
**2Timothy 1:6 Wherefore I put thee in remembrance that thou stir up the gift of God, which is in thee by the putting on of my hands.
September 23, 2019
3rd place, "Pick a Friend on Soup" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Bobby May; judged on 9/27/2019.
GOOD MORNING
I wake up crying
The birds are not flying;
All kinds of strangeness
From the sun that once
Sustained us.
When I first shook um...
People were drowsy
''Good morning. New day.!
I said: I am not here for pokes
Likes, or as a comic relief.
Poets down played my message.'’
And my belief ‘s.
‘’ God, I gave you my soul to keep’’
In 2011 when I first hit the scene
Much could have been avoided then.
When I came, I came in straight shooting
Exposing malfeasance in
their lousy schemes, 2016.
We constantly are afraid of dying.
Pertaining to ‘’Putin, and all the looting’’.
Now, we all wake-up crying,
About who’s on the take.!
Once again, ‘’I lay me down to sleep.’’
That is, ’if we even dare to wake’’!
Children of the 50's speak…
Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2020
when we get a tempest in Canada
it is usually in the form of a snow blizzard
the winds are strong
at times gale force
howling and
prolonged
the snow falling heavy
and sustained
with deep snowdrifts
driving is dangerous
walking unsafe
stay home we are told
keep flashlights and candles on hand
incase of power failure . . .
there is an uproar outside my window today
my world is in chaos
trees are bending
window panes are rattling
oh, what an upheaval
but .... I am warm and cozy
with my cat purring on my knee
and a fireplace cracking and flickering
and a nice hot cup of tea
and there is no way I am going out there . . .
women are the backbone
of a multitude of success
because women are known
to always give their very best
women have given birth
to those who have grow up to be
righteous men and women with godly personalities
those who promote the agenda of God
those who have grace instilled in their hearts.
women can give birth to destinies
in the midst of adversity
women also give birth to those
who in the spirit tend to soar free
women have been known to reach down
in the womb of time by fulfilling prophecies
because when women stand by
there's no telling what will come to be
women give birth to ideas, to causes
and to plans
women stand back and stand by
as they hold to God's unchanging hands
many say women are weak
but little do they know
that giving birth is no small feat
it's a miraculous godly show
when women stand by
genocide is thwarted
the plans of the devil's disciples
then become distorted
as God will use your present enemy
to restore your future promise
for God is in the midst to reveal
those who are dishonest
midwives have always had a special place
when it comes to God's design
those women who stand by to help
give birth
when life is on the line
yet Pharaoh tried to coerce them
to kill little baby boys
but two midwives refused to take part
in that mission to destroy
when the women stand by
life becomes precious and preserved
When the women stand by
we always get what we deserve
positioned to now be a catalyst of change
an opportunity to now represent
placed to now seek your purpose
and give rise to your testament
so recognize your place in this world
and discover your godly mission
and no matter what path
you choose to take,
make sure God is part of that decision
when the women stand by,
life will always be sustained
because Shiprah, Puah, Miriam & Harriet
stood firmly on God's name
when the women stand by
I want to write about love
What is love?
Is it when two person having sex?
My bad - that is lust
Is it when you gawk after someone?
It's called foolishness
Is it when you drool after someone?
It's called ready to welcome your deathbed
Haha it's none of the above
If you want real love
You have to endure
You have to take time
You never know what you are going to get
One day after another
It's taking time to believe in
It's putting yourself ahead of the other
Yes I said it
You cannot give if you don't flip
Yes flip head over heels for that special someone
Flip over yourself being a fool
Flip over at anything for any reasons
Flip gives
Which leads to dip
You dip because you care too much
You dip because you worry too much
Which leads to sip
Sip on honeymoon
Because you will never be waned, drained, trained
You just keep changing
Love is change
Sustained
You like that?
Now come get some love
Over there
Unless you want to be chained
Haha
By my dogs