Long Sympathyme Poems
Long Sympathyme Poems. Below are the most popular long Sympathyme by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sympathyme poems by poem length and keyword.
Choosing whom to love...is an unsolved dilemma, we humans seldom attest;
how can love be shared equally among the ones who delight our very heart?
I can't love one person more than the other, it's utter unfairness on my part;
what troubles me is to whom I'll give the deserving affection that can last...
If many haven't loved me or touched me in the simplest, truest way: I can go past that;
and wouldn't hold it against them, but what I will tell them is to be my friends and chat.
And the saddness of the matter is that friends aren't like God who's ever-present;
they live among us for a short while, then they depart to begin their jeourney's quest.
Many dark days have see me waiting on someone like a hopeless beggar: bitter, cold and sad;
no nickels, dimes or quaters were tossed into my coffee cup I held up with a trembling hand.
Fate, unfair fate will there be a time when you'll show me sympathy, and not embitter me?
If another chance at being loved were given to me, I wouldn't forfeit it when it accosts me.
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Choosing whom to love...is an unsolved dilemma, causing confusion to clearly think and pause;
not all can be certain of hearing that they are truly loved by offering them a beautiful rose.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
The gloves are drawn
audience in deep silence
the chill of the silence arises and it becomes a scream;
you’ve won
you’ve shown me what you want
what you expect
but i cannot yet grasp that train of thought,
why is there always a specific way
to burn and drag me away
along the carpet, rug burns
but i can make it stop.
It’s the key i haven’t found,
must i move to prove i found
that key, that potential
or will it ever be enough,
will anyone.
The fact is you’ve won
I’ve heard this one before
i make the choices, you chase them
trying to change me,
rearrange me
and strip me from my pride,
which really just gets thrown on the ground?
stomped on, crunched,
like a fragile piece of paper,
that silhouette of pride,
confidence
it’s shattered within the milliseconds
when true desire to please is thrown out
attempt so worthless
I feel nothing but this frustration,
Agitation and in reality, I’m going mad.
this need for impressing,
need for making everyone else happy
Has gone.
It will be me first from now on.
I've been watching you for hours now,
wringing your hands
pacing the floor
watching the monitors
holding his hand
never leaving his side
Your spirit is strong,
he feels you by his side
knows you are there,
hears your whispered prayers
yet you are oh, so tired,
I see it in your weary face,
your bloodshot eyes
I'm here for you,
when you are ready-
pull me close to his bed,
lean back and take his hand,
close your eyes for a few minutes.
I'll stand watch with you,
I'm here for you, and
I'm not aganist catching a tear or two
I see you looking at me-longing for relief
He won't think you weak if you
sit down for a while--so,
Go ahead--
Pull me close to the bed,
take his hand,
lean back,
close your eyes,
rest.
I am here for you.
These are the latest, unpleasant news...
that I bring you along with my winter's blues:
the gusts of a mad month to make you shiver more,
never thinking of opening another door!
And should I call on the heavy snow,
and make the furious wind whistle...
when you'll step outside with words not too humble?
What else can make you shrill like a soprano?
I'll be unkind and mercilessly rude,
regardless of how you plead;
I been called brutal and wild: as a horse without a harness,
to pillage and destroy with an attitude which is vicious, indeed!
Nobody can win me over by persuasion or guile,
I am easily angered to invoke the intense storms;
and trying to appease me can intensify my vengeance inside...
remember, gentleness s not one of my virtues, but wickedness is!
Snuggle your teddy bear and stay warm,
just hear the gusts of a mad month;
I can't enter where I am not welcome...
but sympathy I must extend to a frightened gal!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci