Long Swim against the tide Poems

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


Premium Member To Whom It Might Concern

To Whom It May Concern

If I should suddenly take my last breath
Leave my mortal coil behind
And succumb to the dark of death
Think this of me

I may have been a simple humble man
For a brief moment in space and time  
Who tried to succeed in thought and deed
Followed dreams that lead to nothing
Lived and loved as I believed

Many a time misunderstood
Judged by a few ignorant others sometimes as bad
When I tried my best to be good
A heart full of love
Kindness and empathy for others
Was always at heart in my thoughts and in my blood

Far from perfect
I faced a new mighty mountain each day
Often alone
A life wasted lived in limbo
No place for my heart to call a home
A lost soul at the mercy of cruel cursing wind
Took me to places I’d rather not dwell
Within the realms and dark pits of hell

A sunny warm smile 
Upon my tired weary mask
Hid the pain
I was strong too strong
Just pushed myself too far
I tried to get on
With everyone
Only human in denile
But as a butterflies wings sometimes fragile

My heart had many open festered wounds
And although I forgave
But still haunt and difficult to forget
My wounds  never healed
And only God
Knew how I’d feel

Controversial outspoken
I stood up for myself
And also others 
The down trodden  
The unfairly treated and the weak
Giving others a voice
When they couldn’t speak

I’d often swim against the tide
Wore my heart on my sleeve 
I had little to hide
Always true to myself
The treasures I sought
Money could not buy
I always seeked the truth
In a world of misconception 
And lies

I leave a legacy behind
In word Written from the heart
My moments shared  of kind
Of my deepest thoughts 
Aspirations a dreams
The journey I’ve travelled
And the things I’ve seen

I tried in my own way
To save the world
Change hearts and minds
Influence make people think
Open the eyes of those who are blind
And spread my love and good will
To all mankind

People may judge me on my looks
But will only know the real me
By having known me
By my kindness caring nature
And the heartfelt words in my books.










Peter Dome©2019.
© Peter Dome  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Verse


A Piece of Respect

In times of affliction
I raise a voice.
A pain in my heart
Difficult to disguise.

A tale of wrong
You cannot deny.
A wound so deep,
It makes me cry.

Delicate and subtle,
But sublime by nature.
Chosen for you,
From the Greatest Protector.

Like a pearl in a shell,
You can trust your beauty
I never let the devils
Obstruct my duty.

But you chose me not.
You ditched my care.
Like a flower shedding its petals,
You stand truly bare

You look at me
With an absolute hate.
You are fond of this world
and stuck to its bait.

Little you know.
Little you think.
You are made for a purpose,
Not an object of bling.

You fear the people.
You fear the crowd.
Who stand and stare,
Like shaytaan avowed.

The day you will be called.
The day you will be said.
Oh people of this ummah,
Arise and Awake!

You were given a life.
You were given a soul.
You were made perfect
And you had a goal

But you pleased the world.
And you did not stop.
You had the jannah,
But they made you swap

You have no helpers.
You have no life.
Except Allah,
The Mighty and The Wise

So you fail to understand
The inherent wisdom
Closing your eyes
Does not give you freedom

The angels witnessed,
When the scholar said:
You have no purpose here,
I will have you shred

But I laughed at his folly.
When my sister was firm:
To Allah we belong,
And to Allah we return.

The strangers who hug me,
Have held their head high.
To protect their faith,
They always stand by

They swim against the tide
To try their best
They make the word of Allah
Superior to the rest

So unite my sisters,
In every inch and corner.
Allah has given you
The greatest honour.

Your face is not an object.
Your shyness is not a waste.
Glamour is not an asset
To show-off in a haste.

A piece of cloth,
A piece of respect
A true sense of freedom,
You can surely expect.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Passion Pits

My father had a passion to swim in the open sea
He used to shout, come on,” *Babu, will teach you”.
But never had the courage to respect his calls due.
While I sat on the sand watching his swimming glee.

One day he caught me and threw me in the water
Splashing hands here and there I learnt it sooner
Happy inheriting that passion of my father forever
Those were the days of the Second World War.

A Japanese ship was into the Arabian sea anchored
We had a bet to swim up to the ship, touched duly
And came back to the shore with the tide safely.
I learnt a lesson to swim against the tide undeterred.

Taking part in a speech competition extempore 
Narrating the experience of the successful swimming
Got addicted to the passion of theatrics unknowing.
My first stage appearance shedding the stage fear

Head and foot engrossed in the activities of the theatre.
In Paris’s National Theatre my old passion was fulfilled
After 40 years, in1989, dramatized, acted and directed 
“La Tartuffe” of Moliere called France’s Shakespeare.

===================================


*****I have placed some pictures related to the poem on my blog******

(It is written in Rhyme, enclosed rhyme and Quatrains)


=========================================================
* Babu is my nickname. At present I am living in Windsor, Canada with my daughter
 Luna who has named her son BABU after me. I asked Babu let us go swimming
 and I will teach you swimming. But he said he already knows swimming.
That has inspired me to write this poem for Babu.

Birdwatching

Everyday I go birdwatching,
I see them-
Seagulls, Geese, Humming birds-
Flutter and puff out their wings,
To soar the tinted sky-
Dancing along the clouds like small jets,
Or the carefree glide of paper aeroplanes.

I watch as their wings carry them-
Steer up and down-
Allowing Pelicans to dive and splatter-
Into the water.

An apprehensive dove's feet teeter-totter at the edge,
Perhaps it had not yet learnt to fly?
Though does not every bird with wings learn to decorate the sky as I would learn to a bike?
Does it matter whether the fowl was pushed off a branch,
Or learnt to swim against the tide of the sky with a leap?

The bird stretches it's wings, 
Feathers caressed by the wind as a mother would her child.
It lingers, 
And leaves,
As I do myself.

Everyday I go birdwatching,
I see them-
Pigeons, ducks, swans,
They greet my feet with pecks or kisses,
As if I were their own.

My gaze drifts upwards-
As it always does-
The same dove sits,
Very still,
As if the bird was capable of fear,
Does it question if it will survive the jump?
Or if it'll soar the skies like those before?
Is it weary of the impact?
Or dream of life as a Phoenix?

The bird flutters and puffs out it's wings,
Watching those already playing on the clouds,
It's feet- paws- claws,
Scratch against concrete,
It sighs,
I giggle,
And stretch my wings out for the last time.
© Toby Adams  Create an image from this poem.

Like a Bridge

If there was ever any doubt in your mind
You know that I would be the last person to leave you behind
Need or require anything,  if I have it, I would give it to you, you know I would
A trouble halved is a trouble shared, sometimes problems are misunderstood
Friend or foe, you know I would treat each the same, in a time of desperation
I'm there for you if need a helping hand to save you from salvation
Sailing towards you like a lifeboat my friend
Right towards your heart and soul, this ship of friendship I send  
Behind all problems an answer can be found to alleviate pain
Like the proverbial pot of gold under a rainbow, is it really there or then again
A problem may sometimes not be what it seems, 
Bridge that gap between the two, you will see, they may just be dreams 
Over anxiety, tiredness, they can all be thrown into the simmering pot
Troubled waters have to settle at some point, would you agree or would you not
Water is water, sometimes you drift on a calm, other times, you have to swim against the tide
I hope that my words make sense my friend, I hope that you invite them inside
Will you call around for a coffee and a chat,  just us two alone
Ease the latch from your door my friend and call or pick up the telephone 
Your friend,  John, hopefully together, your problems we will overcome 
Mind over matter is what Mum used to say and she always managed to get through her day
© John Scott  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Acrostic


Waves of Dreams

Life’s ocean of colors carries me 
home. Red and blue waves flow into you 
and days gone by. I am afloat, often 
rolling over and under its surf, a tidal wave 
reflected violet like a mountaintop 
draped in stars falling from Heaven, 
or a calm, lavender spray of salty mist 
mirrored by a distant midwinter sun. 
Insecure moments rise and fall when withered 
limbs tread through vast waters, the tips 
of my toes unable to touch sand. I want to sleep 
in the deep, wrapped warm in dreams of families 
aglow on golden shores with nimble fingers 
of children churning sand, seagulls circling picnics 
and hovering mothers who see every baby step 
with protective eyes. I am helpless in dreams 
that remind me of a desired fantasy and a long-gone 
memory. I feel alone in dark waters. I cradle 
my innocence. Once, in a watery womb, we all felt 
secure, nourished, wanted. We felt loved 
in our newness, born to conquer stormy seas. 
Never were we meant to survive alone. If I could 
swim against the tide, I’d breathe in air 
from farthest horizons and nearest rivers 
leading me home, even if the waters receded 
to nothing. Tomorrow may come, 
and I may paddle north in search of love.
                                 I might give in and rest on your shores.


Written 3/24/17

The Bargaining Wench Wanting Payment



                Shadows hiss_per, of secret, 
buildup-congealed,
no longer trapped within curiosity's seals.
Oceans of thoughts crash, unrested,
on the rocks and hard-placed
reveal of faith tested, self unmasked.

Yearning souls beneath it's cloak,
in fascination, unwittingly evoke.
Stoke of spirits with egging yoke, at hand.
While you're seeking solace, longing for hope to land.
Whorish grasp tightens its  occupation,
stores window inn, occupancy in your thinking gland.

In the darkest corners, shadows dance,
whispering castanets of a mysterious trance.
Curiosity lingers, inquisitive and cold,
Unveiling the stories, waiting to be told.

Thoughts, like waves crash upon your shore,
restless siren, longing to shipwreck more.
Faith tested, like swim against the tide,
revealing the fact that you cannot hide.

Clouded reason, hidden beneath a shroud,
Beknownst monologues , speaking aloud.
Awakening spirits, with a guiding poke,
furnish, as their hope is stoked.

Acting on grasp, tightening its hold,
encroaching upon thoughts, as scenes roll.
Occupying windows of the mind, so 
intertwined, cryptic-thespian-lines. 
Shadow_wall scenes, 
taunt you, bait you by your own designs.
Form: Rhyme

The Wilderness Within

I walked out of a home, a cage, safety and routine,
And ventured into the wild, where beasts roam free.
The dangers were plenty around me, but so was the thrill,
And I knew in my bones, this is where I belong still.

I wandered through the forest, and climbed the rugged hills,
I faced my fears, bears, and tigers head on,
My heart gave a chill.
But as I braved the storms, and outsmarted the beasts,
I found my own home, my own place of peace.

In the wild, I learned what I'm truly made of,
And I know now, I'll survive no matter how tough.

I'll walk through the fire, and I'll swim against the tide,
I'll fight for my life, with all my might and pride.

For it's only in the wild, where we truly come alive,
And build our own home, and learn to thrive.

So I'll keep wandering, till the end of my days,
For in the wild, my soul always ablaze.

And if you ever see me, out there in the wild,
Don't be afraid, for I too was once a small, scared, child.
I’m son of the earth, of the fire, of the wind and the rain,
Just living my life, and feeling alive again.
© David Chen  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member A Summer Walk

The sun is slowly rising and a soft wind gently blows
We are heading for the beach to feel the sand between our toes
There is something about the summer sun and a walk along the shore
That tends to put your world at peace as you hear the ocean's roar

The sound of children's laughter and the smell of tanning lotion
The taste of salt in the air from the mist coming off of the ocean
Sea gulls against a clear blue sky and a ship with its' sails set
These are days that will live in our memory, days we'll never forget

There are palm trees, music and a carousel as you make your way along
And a young woman in a bikini, her body swaying to an island song
There is a rhythm to the pounding surf, unchanging day to day
That tends to ease a troubled mind and take your blues away

Will you join me in a summer walk and be there at my side
Will you run with me into the water and swim against the tide
There's a bench out on the boardwalk, we can sit a while and talk
Then head back home together as we finish our summer walk.
Form: Quatrain

In Depth

Whatever happened to in depth analysis?
Whatever happened to in depth discussion?
Whatever happened to in depth research?
Whatever happened to in depth investigation?

Are we doomed to a life in the shallows for millennia to come?
Are we doomed to a life inside, with our blinds drawn?
Are we doomed to a life with no more full-length movies?
Are we doomed to a life without the need to get our feet wet?
Are we doomed to a life that will never be deep?

Have we lost our ability to concentrate?
Have we lost our ability to swim against the tide?
Have we lost our ability to read the full report?
Have we lost our ability to search out the facts?
Have we lost our ability to dig deeper?

Or could it be that our brains have been washed too many times,
Or could it be that we have used too much sanitizing lotion,
Or could it be that the virtual world now holds more sway,
Or could it be that we are too busy taking selfies to notice,
Or could it be that we are losing all our in depth reporters.
Form: Blitz

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