Long Taken for granted Poems
Long Taken for granted Poems. Below are the most popular long Taken for granted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Taken for granted poems by poem length and keyword.
In our small community, there was a library surrounded by a playground filled with play equipment for children. There was a large and strong swing set
made of iron. There were also a sliding board and merry-go-round, both large. This swing set was the best, and it was built to last, with no fear of breakage.
Whenever the coast was clear, and if no one chased us off, we'd play for hours. "Coast was clear? What on earth do you mean?". What must be understood is this: In America, I grew up in the 50's and 60's in the rural South. Jim Crow laws were in full force, and that presented a major 'bigger than life' problem that my friends and I had to overcome. There was only one playground in town, and it was for "Whites Only".
However, in this heavy farming community, our playtime was limited and restricted. Because of that, when the 'spirit of playtime' embraced itself around us, we were willing to violate the rules and have fun as long as we could, which usually was a very short duration. It was like flying through the air without wings on childhood aircraft forbidden to us. So many other freedoms that were taken for granted by most kids in America were denied to us; but to play on that vast playground was so much fun and so liberating, that we broke the Southern Rule. I cannot count the many times that we were chased off; but we always went back, again and again.
No. We were not trying to change the world; we just wanted to swing.
No. We were not fighting for civil rights; we just wanted to slide on the boards. We were simply innocent kids, looking for joy rides on the merry-go-round.
If we had a motto, it was not "Let Freedom Ring; but rather, "Let Freedom Swing".
That was over 50 years ago, when Jim Crow was alive and well in America. Now, most people prefer to forget that he ever lived. I choose to remember.*
10192017 Contest, The Sounds Of The Past, Roper; Chosen picture for theme: The Swing Set; 2ndPl;*"Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it", John Santayana
My heart, feeling like a heavy lump weighing all over all me,
Closed itself in a chest full of demoniac seeds
Hoping, that by doing so, it would bring itself to destruction,
Yes, it would rot and decay
To such an extent that it would forget about the pain,
The hurt, the feeling of having been taken for granted
The shock of having been taken for an emotionless doll
Meant to be used and abused
Meant to kept there, on a decorative shelf
Having as duty, the sole responsibility of keeping silent
And allowing life to act as it deems it right, upon me!
"I am leaving," I whispered with a teary breath
On a piece of scroll meant for the lover to read
After he would wake!
I knew, I would miss his comfort, his steady breath,
His stability, his rule over me, his imposed limits,
All which allowed me to thrive,
As long as I remained blind
To the fact that I was not enough for him!
Then, placing my hand over the Fate screen,
Blinking dangerously to how souls
Were being armed with sins,
I just let myself be propelled into a world
Where living is trapped by the laws of actions and reactions!
Yes, a world seeming to be both heaven and hell
Depending upon its location
Depending upon its whims
Pray, if nature chose not to destroy
Why, it's humans themselves who resorted to do so!
At least, here, I knew, I would suffer
Yes, here, I would be so taken up by woes
That I would forget about that which I left up there
There, a place whose name I have even forgotten!
But what I expected not was to meet with supernatural phenomenon
What I expected not was to experience celestial love
What I expected not was to meet love, here, toiling,
Like me, in human form
Trying to adjust to life's tempo
Trying to secure his uncertain future
Trying to find me, to save me,
And our love!
Pray,
If love erred
And now wants to be forgiven
Why, does it not become my aim
Does it not become my loyalty
To appease it and to love it back?
Somehow, this world shall fade into nothingness
What shall matter is the fact that we shall succeed in getting back there
There, a place whose name I have now forgotten
To help bring Earth back to life again
As it had been our home, for a while!
For Contest Fantasy
Sponsored by Deborah Guenther Beachboard
Written on 25th March 2018
This morning arrives as day is signaled by light
The stars yawn and retire as the day becomes bright
Gone is the safe harbor the shadow of night
Morning brings yet another chance to do things right
Within me is the most complex yet simplest of memories and thoughts
Ones that can bring joy the light or sorrow within the dark
Not a place always of happiness not one usually sought
it's where inner beauty is casted as well as moments where breaths are caught
Today is no different then those times in the past
I'm still wound tight with my thoughts running so fast
I'm drawn into my wormhole cacooned with the only things that last
Memories.. my life the good the bad the shadows of my past
Moments that brings a heart to dead stop
So strong you cant help but cough
Then in a blink a pop
They are pushed aside as the next rolls across
Times that when lived couldnt be deciphered thru the chaos
The decisions the chances the choices the loss
Some came out of no where as if in my life they were tossed
And then there are those that came at so high of a cost.
Within this cocoon this wormhole of a past
Deeply I sit watching again as each memory comes to pass
Memories when there made or remembered tend to always cast
A shadow or wishful thinking from a time that didnt last..
Days will be dark and gloom will reign
Others will be so precious yet so hard to obtain
For love does not stand alone nor does it always remain
There can never be a rainbow until after its rained
So I look upon all that makes up me
The roads I've traveled the blessings I see
The harshness of truth the cold brutal reality
My eyes moisten as I bow my head and bend my knees
Wondering why God had decided to make me..
With all the mistakes the moments taken for granted
The times when blessed I only raved and ranted
Never cherishing the life I was handed
A life lived while wishing death be granted
He makes no mistakes this I know
I just wish what He saw in me would finally show
Older I get the days swiftly go
And still I wander the direction I don't know
I just don't want to fail Him and not be what He intended
Ears are open my shoulders been lended
My patiences has been tried possibly overextended
Please help me find what You have always intended
Apple Tree
I do not know why, but for the longest time, it has been assumed that I was in the Garden of Eden. I’ve been seen in gardens, orchards, and the yards of many people, but there is no proof that I was ever in Eden. But let’s just assume that I was indeed the tree realistically known as the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.
For heaven’s sake, let’s just assume that I was an innocent bystander, absorbing nutrients from the garden and producing juicy apples. Yes, I was climbed upon by the devil, picked from by the woman, and eaten from by both Adam and Eve. And can anyone imagine how disrespected I felt and taken for granted? Remember, neither the devil nor Eve consulted me about apples from me.
I grew and produced the apple that caused God to be displeased, and forced him to drive them from the garden. Moreover, at least two bites of an apple from my limbs changed the course of history for both nature and all of mankind. I must say that I am not proud of any of this. But you must remember, there was plenty of blame to go around, but when the punishment was handed down, I was not included.
And remember, I have the knowledge and remember very well, because I was there and witnessed literally everything. I even heard the devil lying to Eve, and if I could talk, I would have rebuked the devil, and advised Eve to slowly walk away. I didn’t know where Adam was, but the least I could have done was to call out to him saying, “Beware the devil on my limb!”.
I tell you, I was so sad when I heard God’s voice telling Adam and Eve about their future lives, their limitations and restrictions. Adam was to work hard enough to sweat; and Eve would always have pain when she would give birth to their children.
It was painful for me to listen to, and enough to make even a tough apple tree like myself break down and weep. But the best part was when I heard God tell the devil about his punishment. That’s when I began to rejoice. Wow! I could not shake a leg, but I shook every limb and all the bark on my body.
08262015 Curtis Johnson; Contest, Trashed #4, Sponsor, Broken Wings
I let you open the box I sealed shut
I let you into a dark corner
I showed you the hidden
I gave you the piece of me
The piece I kept to myself
I poured out my heart and soul
I revealed things about me
I’ve never breathed a word about
You saw me, broken and beautiful
You saw the scars, the pain, the tears
You saw through my masks
You saw the real me
You loved the real me
The good, the bad and everything in between
I could never hide my struggles
We could laugh about mundane things
Cry together when we hurt
Pray together when we knew of nothing else
Call upon each other in time of need
Enjoy each other’s company
You showed me what it’s like
To have a real friendship
The kind people are jealous of
And wish they were so lucky to have
You changed my life
You helped me see things with new eyes
I knew of your dark past
The pain and abuse you endured
I knew what haunted you still
I loved you the same
I prayed for you until I ached
I cried for you until I couldn’t cry anymore
Then you hurt me
You ripped out my heart
And the piece of me I gave you
You locked away and took with you
You turned me upside down
You planted bitterness and anger
Rooted deep inside me
Back in my dark corner
I crawl back and plant myself
Weary to let anyone close
Weary to let anyone in
I cry now for what you took
I cry now for what I lost
I pray now to be healed
I pray now for your eyes to open
I handed you my heart on a platter
And you raked it into the trash
All in a one day
Because I stepped outside
Outside your boundaries
That you placed on your life
And I messed up your world
Forget that I need you now
Forget that it is me that is struggling
Forget that it was me that’s been hurt
Now you are the victim
I must wear the hat of the villain
I pray that one day
You realize what you did
As I sit here thinking
Tears well in my eyes
At the thought of what we had
What I found in you
The memories we built together
I still miss you
I still love you
But my heart you shattered
I’ve never hurt so much
As you hurt me
The tears I’ve shed
The feeling of being incomplete
When you feel and trust
When you give and share
You risk this
Risk it all being taken for granted
Risk it all
For what
For this emptiness?
In last night's movie, a young writer
and an older, married with children French woman
fall in love. They did not meet during a village massacre
and money is no object, Manhattan
the place I was priced out of. But after everything has happened
she cannot leave her children, not even for love, because of love,
the love that brooks no serendipity.
Here, in my family, love is taken for granted
except when it's withdrawn and then even the trees lose all meaning,
familiarity. Now it is almost dawn:
this and that must get done in committee or alone.
Don't reach, go slow as the day will allow.
But that's not what I came to say.
Perfect rest v. having a destiny.
A complete breakdown in self-discipline.
It begins by saying nothing I do matters under the eye of eternity.
Hamlet x 5 centuries.
Add to that all the science--chemistry, physics--calculus and music
I don't know. I have sat next to, at weddings,
brain surgeons and robot engineers. I hit the street
choosing a church on Fifth Ave. or Trinity Cemetery, walking the
heartless city.
In the subsequent late night movie, a wealthy
altruistic doctor arranges for the murder
of his neurotic concubine. His guilt provides us
with an opportunity to consider
the concepts of faith and forgiveness, that all will be well in the end
after a period of meaningless suffering.
In this way the seasons have been circulating for eons via convexity.
I don't know what I'm doing but I'm doing it anyway.
You trust in genetics, God, prosthetics or prayer, whatever
gets you to the morning. That's when the sun,
a billion trillion nuclear detonations per second
warms your bones.
You may remember an old lover who's gone before
or continues to exist on another plane, in another ecstasy.
Having installed a new toilet seat
and made a few philanthropic donations
I can kick back tonight and watch movies, right?
Not. I'm ridding myself of another addiction
like illegal drugs via caloric restrictions
getting enough sleep for two people or more
and reading none of the dry words in books from the library.
When there's nothing to do, when I'm bored or dreary
I'll sit still and watch from the window, I'll wait
for the weather to change, which it will.
You got to move one… when all the things are going wrong..
You need to understand.. Sometimes it’s not only your fault..
The world is full of fake people… trying to pretend what they are not..
They create a world… A magical one for you to live on.. Words full of lies. Words full of fake feelings…
A life you always dreamed to have lived on. Then you give all your own self…
You heart.. Your mind and everything you held for your sake. .Without realizing you are walking to a trap..
Like the deer sees the water in the desert… You only see the fake magical world they build..
You are giving you self again and again…You tend to spend all your time and everything you got with them..
But one day you come back to your own senses…Like waking up from a beautiful dream…
But when you realize that everything was a fake dream…
You are lost and you are trying hard to find your way back to your own being…
You are broken trust is taken for granted…You are tearing when smiles are all hidden..…
You start hatting.. Cursing and weeping…But its only who is suffering… only your heart is breaking…
You collect all the memories.. And try to erase them for eternity…
You are trying to hide yourself from everything…But please understand… it’s not your fault..its always the human way..
Everybody wants to be loved and taken care of.. everybody wants to be listened when they talk…
We are needful creatures… we always need something form someone always..
We always look for better things than what we have…We are never satisfied with what we got..
We always want something more.. we always want something to cling on…
That’s our mistake.. we never realize it until we lost everything we have in ourselves..we can always change the humans way..
Look inside you to find your own self… count all the blessing you are born with…
Accept the fact that you are worthy…To live your life independent and strongly..
Love will happen it will fade away.. But please don’t lose yourself..
Fall in love with your own self.,, try to teach you and be with you always...
Surround yourself with positive thoughts and honest friends…
So you can fight with the fake magic world if ever come your way!!
Dilu wijegunasekara
13th of august 2019
What a Life!
I was Inspired to write this Poem, because I wanted to create a few verses that could readily or easily be turned into a song. It talks about the struggles of having something of Value, i.e. Land, Diamonds, Oil, Other Minerals, etc. and encountering someone, or an entity with Great Physical Power, and the Dynamics of that Relationship. Whether or not if Justice, Concepts of Right and Wrong, and Human Decency come into Play, or if it all Boils down to Money, Greed, and Manipulation by the Use of Power and Force?
A Letter to a Friend!
The Events that took place which inspired me to write this Poem, is that while watching the news, I saw a situation where a young black male, i.e. Mr. George Floyd was stopped, arrested or questioned and the excessive use of Force was Employed, used or invoked which lead to his eventual Death. Which I think was unnecessary and completely avoidable. For in Identical situations or circumstances for individuals of the Caucasian race, this escalation of violence seldom if ever happens or not as frequently as it appears that it occurs when dealing with members of minority populations i.e. black, brown, or Other Segments of Society.
What I Miss Most are the Words left Unsaid!
This Poem came About by the Sudden Passing of My Father, and how unexpected it was seeing that I had spoken with him the previous weekend. The Pain, Love, Regret, and Other Emotions which I Felt suddenly come to the Forefront or Surface of My Mind, which I had to deal with. The Lives he Left behind, and the Implications of Choices which He Made While he was still Living.
While You Were Here, I Wonder if You Thought On These Things Too?
This Poem was Inspired by the Feeling(s) Evoked by My Father's Sudden Passing, and the Realization that I Still Love Him, Though HE Was Not Perfect, For He Had Numerous Children born to Women who were not my Mother. Though Him Being Married to my Mother the Whole Time, made me Question Fidelity, Love, Integrity, Honesty and Numerous Other Concepts which I Had Always Taken for Granted. As Their meaning and Definition being explained in the Oxford or Webster Dictionary. My Relationship with Him is More Complicated Than That.
Sitting in rags all tattered and torn
He gazed through the window and loved what he saw
A raging coal fire, and some children to play
Just what he wished for on a cold winters day
The frost bit his finger and nibbled at his nose
and his shoes, thin as paper, could not warm his toes
But the warmth and the love that the family there told
Reached into his heart and blessed his wee soul
The dear little beggar boy was welcomed inside
To share christmas gifts and a log of yuletide
A meal that he'd dreamed of was served in a dish
And the sweet little child got his christmas wish
Sat near the roadside, a cup in his hand
sat a merchant, a peasant, a pitiful man
Selling flowers to towns folk, from graves freshly plucked
He watched as the villagers tucked into roast duck
Nose pressed to the entrance, inhaling the feast
He licked his dry mouth as they carved the cooked beast
A little old lady arose from her pew
and gladly she told him "There's plenty for you"
All grubby and dusty with an ache in her back
A frail, crinkled lady read palms from a shack
Not making much money, spending winter alone
She watched families rejoicing, and wished for her own
Trying to remember, a life led before
With her sister and daughters, before she was poor
A kind gent passed by her and decided to spend
his christmas or longer, for she needed a friend
Sat at the butchers and begging for meat
Dusty the mongrel was just under their feet
Just a scavenger, all dirty, they shoo'd him away
and he got used to the harshness of being homeless each day
Tucked beneath hedges, to escape winters bite
He flopped down his head, and he slept for the night
Dreaming of children who'd bring him a bone
Rescued by a schoolgirl who gave him a home
What do you dream of, when you're sat all alone
Money and chocolate, a new mobile phone
Or the simplest things that are taken for granted
Like a home and a family, to be loved and be wanted
Do you think of others or not have a care
when enjoying your holidays, do you have time to spare
See the dear little beggar boy at your windowsil
Let him in, spare a second, 'tis the season of goodwill
"...The Secret of the Golden Flower is not only a Taoist text of Chinese yoga but also an alchemical tract. (...) it was the text of The Golden Flower that first put me in the direction of the right track." C. G. Jung
"The Golden Flower alone, which grows out of inner detachment from all entanglement with things, is eternal." Richard Wilhelm
does it bloom in the subatomic quark neuron
a flower petals deranged
burning with green rage
dark firmament pullulating infinitesimal quasars
unpeeling layers of nuclear fusions fissions
the blue-blackish greenish-blue haze
is this the eye looking at the eye
which I
between the crushed ajña-eyebrows
under eyes straining to envelope reality from afar
spotty bright grains pulsating in a velvety ink-blue-black throbbing screen
thoughts racing forwards and backwards in time
childhood slights deprivations unrevenged hurts
throbbing thriving on treacherous jabs by of-all beings friends
those who profit from taken-for-granted confidences
the women who dun-you-in
thoughts of a nature to make you hate fate
then the pulsating roving churning dismembering coalescing screen
dissolves
and in the pale fringey opening white furry stripes on the blue-black greenish bulgey bed of velvet
whose I
lights the frigid fire burning dynamo
whose eye
shrivels
reopens brightens
what is it an eye
which stares
shrinks sharper by the fractioned second
closes and opens again
and again
till the pinpoint galactic blackholing centre
bigbangs
the myriad diamondlights buoyed on a myriad-petalled dryburning flowering sun
shedding golden glory
expelling all thought or is it mere doubt
the intense unrelenting feeling of
is it joy
or a fumbling stolen fear
the mental orgasmic relief
the sense of deep other knowing power come face to face
refreshing retreading the worn-out neuron paths
then the return
after the wearinesses
or is it nonplussednesses
to this world
to words
to wars
to waste
to wickedness
a world without wonder
without womb
a world dying
dead
a tomb
see only what you should see
words see only what eyes make belief
even when words don’t mean what they see
© T. Wignesan - Paris, July 3, 1997[Revised May 2003] -from longhand notes: a binding of poems. 1997