Long Tether Poems
Long Tether Poems. Below are the most popular long Tether by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tether poems by poem length and keyword.
‘Ossi’, what Western side likes them to call,
East returning complements with ‘pushy’,
No more stands there the brick-and-mortar wall,
Love’s lost still in old animosity.
The wall o’er a decade and half back fell,
Yet, an iron curtain still them divide,
Minds cannot meet over the wall of pride,
Hurt heart and prejudice can’t that gulf scale.
‘I’d rather a spouse from a foreign shore
‘Bring than one from behind iron curtain,’
Felt one from across the long secured door,
Deep and wide does divide decades of pain.
Here lingers a dislike, there disdain old,
What venom brethren nurse for each other!
An open war has turned into one cold,
Togetherness in search of fair tether!
‘Too hot’ for us these women from the West,
‘Hard to please, pushy, far too material,
‘Everything about them seems commercial,
‘From old world do we come and too modest’.
‘Too darn dense be these people from the East,
‘Lacking any a style whatsoever,
‘Forever on a bargain-hunting heist,
‘Let them savour their old odious flavour’.
Wall was felled to enable two-way flow,
Heads still finds it hard to communicate,
Bridges and trains, mutual dialogue to grow,
Yet, hard it is distanced hearts to placate.
Love and passion when at a premium come
In too short a period of years fifteen,
Old prejudices play a harder drum,
Not easy 'tis long-closed closets to clean.
World has its Kashmir, long-gulfed Koreas too,
And torn-apart people elsewhere a few,
A healer great, mighty teacher is time,
If not today, morrows may sing in rhyme.
______________________________________________________
The Berlin Wall came down some 15 years back on 9th November1989. But the iron curtain continues to divide the two people that history separated. Only two per cent of marriages every year are between the East and the West Berliners, which under normal conditions should have brought together one-third to half of the couples in a city its size. Yet, they are 12 times more likely to marry foreigners. After the wall fell, there came the euphoria only to die soon. A lingering dislike persists between the two sides. Yet, in all fairness 15 years is too short a period to mitigate the wounds inflicted by 60 years of separation. Time, let us hope, will prove a great healer that it is.
______________________________________________________
Happenings | 01.11.04 |
Look at them, tangled in insignificant conversation
about politics or stereotypes of blacks, whites and Asians,
lack of youth education, weather ruined vacations, how inflation squeezing their arm like “yo, I got you taken,
and how fuel became a bill from the money that we are making.
They sacrifice the savings to keep a standard of living.
I hear then talking about their lovers lack of love that they are giving
I say communicate or leave because time is steady ticking
Look at them
Buying expensive rims, and high fashion clothes with sneakers, lugz, and tims. Inside I soul spy like
magnified mri’s an imaginary field force of selfishness and pride.
Careless if they fetus die, cry internal cause maternal really means giving up a lot.
They sacrifice the club shot for shot life and dreams and the scene of kings and queens all decken together…
and their business is each others infused for forever playing tether with the ball of a pendulum. Uncovered
are their memories of covers and words they’ve past uttered…it is just another case of lack of patience
Like gimme good but hold the impregnation. Bright futures still there steady waitin
Look at them
Thinking they can plan their lives, brake the rules of the beehive that ran their lives, make a little honey to
expand their lives, then forget they folk turn around forget they wives.
See she lost her heart and he aint got no eyes but in such a dark world that man is king.’
Look at her flaunting that ring then pawning that ring because all that mattered was a shiny thing. Not the
signs
Look at them tryna rewind. Relight the spark that wouldn’t stay the last 20 times
It should be a crime to try to live back there. Yo people do change but change is rare
They put it all on retail so it can be re-teared
All the hurt made them cold so they don’t care
Blinded by the glare, and the lights and such
Look at them! Don’t they know they done sold too much?
In for a short time touch instead of long term goals
People drive through they souls without no tolls
All control each other’s minds fueled hearts by coal
So hard, so swoll, so invincible is external
Look at them bout to blow so internal
Would you look at them actually living
My observations vicarious as information I’m giving
Look at me all input but no answer
All I am is input but not the answer
Form:
The cavern breathes.
Its walls slick with time, with damp, with secrets.
It has seen centuries of footsteps,
but tonight, it watches.
Above, the sky stretches wide—
galaxies shifting, burning,
too far, too indifferent
to witness what he has done.
She is beneath him.
Was beneath him.
Her breath stolen, her body cooling,
the fight long gone from her limbs.
He had taken what he wanted.
More than that.
Everything.
Now, only the cavern knows.
His hands, trembling now, touch the stone.
His chest heaves.
Guilt? Regret?
No—something deeper, something worse.
And then, he screams.
The sound rips through the cavern,
tearing against rock,
splitting the silence open
like a wound.
The walls tremble.
The ground shifts.
The cavern awakens.
For a breath, it grieves.
For a breath, it remembers her.
Then, it judges.
The air thickens.
The trembling stops.
His voice is taken,
flung into the void,
cast to the stars
never to return.
This is his punishment.
Not death.
Not solitude.
But silence.
The last tether to her,
severed.
Once, she pressed her palm to his chest.
Felt the hum of breath.
The warmth of skin.
The pulse of something real.
Now—nothing.
The cavern swallows the last echo.
Above, the universe turns on,
uncaring.
And the stars—
they do not grieve for him.
Reflection:
This poem is about justice—true, raw justice. The kind that human hands often fail to deliver. He took everything from her, stripping her of dignity, of breath, of life itself. But the world, the universe, does not punish men like him. They walk free, justified by excuses, shielded by silence.
But the cavern does not forget. It listens. It knows what he has done. And so, in a world where men take and walk away unscathed, the cavern becomes the reckoning. It takes the only thing left to take—his voice, his ability to be heard, his existence as something that matters. It does what the world refuses to do.
His punishment is not death. That would be too simple, too kind. Instead, he is erased, left in a silence that mirrors the silence he forced upon her. A silence that echoes forever, but never back to him.
And the stars? The universe? They do not grieve. Because this was never about them.
This is about her.
In the twilight of our consciousness, where shadows intertwine with subtle grace,
I wander through endless corridors, seeking truths in this forsaken place.
This world, the sole reality, with all its terror and tender embrace,
Demands our love, lest we lose ourselves in imaginary space.
Through the labyrinth of thoughts, where dreams and fears entwine,
I glimpse the dismal utopias, where false hopes align.
The politicians' empty promises, like stars that cease to shine,
And the futile whispers of reward, which the misled call divine.
How can we live in a realm where terror and beauty blend,
And not surrender our hearts to this paradox without end?
For if we scorn this earthly tether, where shadows and light amend,
We fall into self-deceit, where illusions grow and bend.
In the deep valleys of our souls, where echoes of existence ring,
We must find the courage to embrace this world, its horror and its spring.
To love it in its entirety, in every tear and triumph, to cling,
For in this acceptance lies our freedom, where only truth can bring.
The utopias of the misguided are but mirages on the sand,
Promises that dissolve in time, slipping through our hand.
We must root ourselves in the present, in this tangible land,
Where terror and wonder coexist, a realm we must understand.
The religion of the future, a whisper of comforting lies,
Attempts to mask the terror, but leads to our demise.
The imaginary world, an echo that never satisfies,
Dispels the fragrant beauty that in the present flies.
In this sacred waltz of thoughts, where consciousness aligns,
I strive to love this world, with all its dark and bright designs.
To see the terror as part of life, where beauty too refines,
A place where dreams and reality, in perfect balance, combine.
Through the misty veils of day and night, where dawn's first light appears,
I walk the path of acceptance, embracing hopes and fears.
For only in loving this world, with all its pain and cheers,
Can we find our truest selves, beyond the false veneers.
So let us cherish the terror, and the beauty that it brings,
And love this world in its entirety, to the rhythm of its wings.
For in this dance of reality, where every shadow sings,
We find the essence of our being, the truth in all things.
Those trademark circular elements of style in vogue every four years
When the crème de la crème of the athleticism
presents itself on the world stage
Suspending and transcending any present day internecine conflict
Allowing, enabling, and proffering the five continents
And gathering of top-notch mental, physical and spiritual prowess
Extant with adroit prolific curved arabesques on one corner of the globe
That (like Noah with his Ark kit) human techno wizardry
Bedazzles viewers charting unparalleled feats
Whereby the human body defies the laws of physics and challenges gravity
Fielding a hypnotic colorful tapestry
Whereby the woof and warp of any melancholy moody blue, mellow yellow
Gunmetal green, roman a clef real time red doth white out
The dark knight, temporarily sequestered in a bishopric
Of faux queenly royalty, where a pawn
out the parapet of her castle keep
She imbibes requiem toward protesting the limits of *****sapiens
Inherent parameters, where fluid dynamics
of each most supreme contestant
Sans his/her specialized arena
Further the prior leg holds with free from arm-twisting head lock
And make a mockery of invisible manacles
Purportedly and formerly believed to tether man/woman kind
With unbreakable hidebound genetic/ chromosomal restraints
But nay to those who professed impossibility against the reins
Boxed and fenced in by bow rings set by Mother Nature
Well nigh obsolete and superfluous
What with evident burlesque stellar performances
Leaving the spectators starry eyed with collective mouths agape
As polished prominent performers blithely offset previous milestone
Setting a new yardstick to measure the Olympian capacity
That Heracles and Zeus would most likely deem
as some sort of magic trick
Yet lo, the sensational and majestic pageantry absolutely serious
Lying to rest what used to be merely amateur games
Whereby most any novice could coax a charade, façade, travesty et cetera
Without fear of getting flagged, but phenomenal exhibitors of today
Can nearly bank on netting a truckload of worldly wide wealth
Whereby a hand-made Scottish tartan Harris Tweed welcome mat
Ushers August men and exuding mettle and iron clad dedication
With pomp and circumstance into pantheon of future legends!
Form:
take my soul and crush it...
like you do... every day...
You've never looked so beautiful as your figure walks away
the sad screech of my broken heart as it ceases to play
you took me along for the ride of a lifetime,
only to throw me away, every single day,
and it is a crime, without reason or rhyme,
to push me along with your toxic logic,
abandoning me again with an afflicted soul,
and my heart doesn't know
that it is your toxic logic that twists me up inside
brought on by your reign, and I can't recall my name
Once again in my little hell, all by myself,
my very essence betrayed, is there any more to tell?
Lie after lie has fooled me, but now I'm done
But I still love you, so my pain is far from done.
You think that I'm inferior to children, that you can't talk to me,
though I've been here since day one, why can't you see?
that my existence is for you, and no one else,
and the sickest bit of it
puts me in a rage... and i try to turn the page...
But I'm trapped in your toxic logic,
abandoning me again with an afflicted soul,
and my heart doesn't know
that it is your toxic logic that's killing me inside
brought on by your reign, overwhelmed by pain
I see the world in black and white, no color left for me,
I gaze across the room, and what do I see?
I see yet another soul about to be ensnared,
by this predator, but I simply don't care.
I lost a part of me, and it used to let me love,
But it has been snatched from me by this uncaring troll,
and here I am, an empty vessel of defeat.
I simply don't know, I truly have been beat.
But as I retreat... from anger flows heat...
Seared by your toxic logic,
abandoning me again with an afflicted soul,
and my heart doesn't know
that it is your toxic logic that branded me inside
brought on by your reign... damaged by pain...
The last tether to you broke, I'm free at last.
an empty part inside remains, holding me fast.
I sink to my knees as the vacuum in my soul starts to shrink,
loving you brought me to insanity's brink.
I slowly raise my head... and gaze ahead...
No longer captive to your toxic logic,
that abandoned me with an empty soul,
and my heart now knows
that it was your toxic logic that tortured me inside
under your maniacal reign... which gave me nothing but pain…
Have you ever touched the universe
And felt its power course through your veins?
Felt the alleviation of all your pain?
Have you ever woken up in the morning
And realized you were at the very center
Of all creation?
That everything happening to you
Had a simple explanation?
Have you held a superpower in your hands
And genuinely believed you could change the world?
That you are more than just a simple girl,
I have.
I have lived as an immortal god
With a divine purpose.
Born again without the curses,
Do you know how Jesus felt
When he knew his role
Was to be sacrificed
For the good of us all?
I know it completely.
I have lived ten thousand lifetimes simultaneously
And seen the world through a fractured perspective.
How everything is connected.
I have seen the reincarnation of my grandfather
As a golden retriever no longer bothered,
I watched time reverse
And gave birth to my own universe.
Have you ever been so miserable
That your mind creates a world of its own for you to hide in?
A world of gods and heroes,
A world of ghosts and goblins?
A world where that pain you can’t run from
Means something other than a miserable existence.
Can you blame me for getting lost in such a world?
For having no resistance,
Look around you.
Is that what you call happiness?
With all your goals and all your classiness?
You don’t know the meaning of the word.
Of all the things you have incurred,
Do you know what you would feel,
If that desire you covet deep inside you was real?
You think you know misery?
Your mind knows all your darkest secrets.
Every time you spoke to Jesus,
What would you do,
If that mind started to use those secrets against you?
What if you could touch and taste and smell something imaginary?
Could you tell the difference between that and reality?
Knowing that if you get it wrong
You will be locked away from society.
Would you tether yourself to what you are told is true
And hope that society isn’t just as delusional as you?
Do you know what it means
To truly pull yourself back from the edge?
To live on the cusp between life and death?
Have you nearly killed yourself
While laughing uncontrollably? No?
Well, this is my story.
Canny remember this Lass's name,
but fur the poem's sake let's assume she's Jane.
'Jane ' this per wee soul had fingers lighter than a blidy feather,
aw things within her sicht yea had tae tether.
Wartime is no jist a time fur wurry or sorrow,
Certainly no fur Jane, aw things she wanted she jist borrowed.
Aye aw things she'd borrow without askin' if she could:(
frae clothes pegs,newspapers an' oany flippin' type o' food.
Funny thing tho' is ,she wis hard tae catch,
wae Jane, things vanished, even oot o' awbidy's veggie patch.
Noo this went oan fur sum munths -even a year.
every week sum wee thing wid jist disappear.
Everybidy jist kent is wis this lass Jane,
bit ivery bidy's attempt tae catch her wis jist in vain.
Yea kid be talkin tae her an' she kid steal yer blidy teeth,
nae kiddin' this lass wis beyond belief.
We lived in number three oor wee But'N'Ben,
Jane lived in five or wis it ten?
Nae matter- she lived in tapmaist flat,
jist hersel' withoot luv an' no even a wee tabby cat:(
No oor family didnae want tae drop her in the poo,
jist teach her a lesson ma dad said he wid do.
So ma Dad an'ma uncle Harry made a parcel wae a few frills,
An' left it oan the neighbour's doonstairs windae-sill.
Sure as itchy flees oan a wee cat's bum,
it wisnae lang before Jane did come.
She walked past the frilly parcel here oan the windae-ledge,
ma Dad an' uncle Harry watchin' -nerves oan edge.
Quick as a blidy blidy' flash,
that said parcel unner Jane's airm an' oaf she dashed.
Up the stairs tae her flat in number ten.
dad an' uncle Harry waited fur whit they didnae ken.
Suddenly the level three tap windae o' Jane's wee flat,
an' oot came that undone frilly parcel like a blidy scalded cat.
It landed at ma Dad an' uncle Harry's feet,
whit wis in that parcel a canny easily repeat.
Dad an' uncle Harry wir in fits an' tears,
their laffin' muscles wir in tap gear.
A wee clue tae the contents - Coo's S#!^#,
stull wonderin' eh? Rhymes wae Kite.
Noo cross ma hert this story is true,
cos' we had a dairy roon back which had lotes o' coo's poo.
As for Jane - weel she kent we knew she had fingers light,
never again did she pick up parcels full of S#!^#.
Aye the last wurd rhymes wae Kite
The Auld Yin.
I remember as a little girl
On a visit to an aunt’s friends house
I was sitting reading a story book
As quiet as a mouse
I asked to be pardoned
To go to the loo
They were all playing dominoes
So I knew what I must do
I opened up the door
And placed my foot on the first stair
Then I heard someone in a low voice say
“Are you sure that she's all there”?
I felt a tear run down my cheek
I was doing what I ought
Only speaking when I was spoken to
That's what I was taught
When I’d done what I had to do
I went back down the stairs
The domino game was finished
And there were four empty chairs
They were all in the kitchen
Drinking cups of tea
My aunt she turned to me and smiled
And handed a cup to me
She noticed my tear-stained face
And stroked it with her hand
I told her what I’d overheard
She said I was too young to understand
I was insecure throughout my childhood
Never felt like I fitted in
Undernourished because I wouldn't eat
Now I’d just be classed as thin
From the age of five
My time at school was fleeting
Feigning illness to avoid the bullies
And escape another beating
I remember cowering
In the corner of the school yard
Cigarette butts stubbed out on my arms
Left painful, sore and charred
Name-calling and violence
Made me feel inferior
Set upon by bullies
Who thought they were superior
When I became a teenager
Things they got much worse
The bullies were now older
Younger ones they would coerce
To taunt me and lie in wait
And leave me in a battered state
When i got my first job
The bullying it went on
Because my face didn't fit
I was put upon
Got lumbered with the dirty jobs
That no-one else would do
Like swilling down the filthy yard
And scrubbing the outside loo
One afternoon, the manageress
Secretly asked me whether
I would do sexual favours for a delivery man
And I reached the end of my tether
I got my coat and quit the job
Never looking back
I later heard that the manageress
Was found out and got the sack
Now that I am older
No-ones victim will I be
I stand my ground, nobody’s fool
And i am happy being me
Genesis 49:8-12 NIV?
[8] “Judah, your brothers will praise you; your hand will be on the neck of your enemies; your father’s sons will bow down to you. [9] You are a lion’s cub, Judah; you return from the prey, my son. Like a lion he crouches and lies down, like a lioness—who dares to rouse him? [10] The scepter will not depart from Judah, nor the ruler’s staff from between his feet, until he to whom it belongs shall come and the obedience of the nations shall be his. [11] He will tether his donkey to a vine, his colt to the choicest branch; he will wash his garments in wine, his robes in the blood of grapes. [12] His eyes will be darker than wine, his teeth whiter than milk.
?Isaiah 65:9 NIV?
[9] I will bring forth descendants from Jacob, and from Judah those who will possess my mountains; my chosen people will inherit them, and there will my servants live.
Jeremiah 33:14-16 NIV?
[14] “ ‘The days are coming,’ declares the Lord, ‘when I will fulfill the good promise I made to the people of Israel and Judah. [15] “ ‘In those days and at that time I will make a righteous Branch sprout from David’s line; he will do what is just and right in the land. [16] In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety. This is the name by which it will be called: The Lord Our Righteous Savior.’
?Luke 2:4-5 NIV?
[4] So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. [5] He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child.
?Zechariah 10:4 NIV?
[4] From Judah will come the cornerstone, from him the tent peg, from him the battle bow, from him every ruler.
?Mark 12:10 NIV?
[10] Haven’t you read this passage of Scripture: “ ‘The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone;
?Ephesians 2:20-22 NIV?
[20] built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. [21] In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. [22] And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.