Long Tethered Poems
Long Tethered Poems. Below are the most popular long Tethered by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tethered poems by poem length and keyword.
With a pending pen, a pensive poet ponders
As he wonders when and where to wedge the next rhyme
To split the rhythm hidden from passerby eyes
Only heard then, by those willing to wander
Daydreaming bare day, with just a hint for misty skies
A hint is but a hint to the tint of a poets eyes
So many wonder why his eyes open amidst his slumbers
When the seemingly soothing rain gently knocks lullabies
Call his name once, you'd think he turned a blind eye
Call his name twice. Do forgive his ventured mind
Bear in mind, like most, he bares the best of tough love
That Mother Nature gives along with swift Father Time
Bare in mind, his mind will write his every struggle
So give him time, peace of mind, a piece of yours shall come
By the boldest boast of thunder post the tundra coast
With his oldest, mostly tattered, tightly tethered poems
Roams the pensive poet - tired - holding on Dear Hope
Such is where the pensive poet's mind would wander most
The scars of your anger
are still etched on my skin.
Your gaslighting whispers
once convinced me
that I was the reason
for every storm you created.
Yet here I stand.
I am not a victim.
I conquered the version of me
you tried to destroy.
I reclaimed the power
you stole in fragments,
piece by piece,
until I became whole again.
I am not a victim.
The psychological traps
that kept me tethered to your cruelty,
the manipulation disguised as love,
the fear disguised as loyalty,
I gathered them all
and turned them into lessons.
And for those lessons,
I earned an A.
Still, here I stand.
I am not a victim.
You sought to control me
because my fear made you feel powerful.
Perhaps my silence
made you feel like a man.
You tried to conquer my mind,
my body,
my spirit.
You tried to own the parts of me
that were never yours to claim.
Yet I remain.
I am not a victim.
Those nights you forced your body into mine
without my consent,
I shattered into a thousand pieces.
A thousand silent screams.
A thousand broken prayers.
Then came the apologies.
The flowers.
The gifts.
The promises.
You said you never meant to hurt me.
You called it love.
But love does not violate.
Love does not take.
Love does not leave bruises
on the body or the soul.
Still,
I am not a victim.
The day I found my voice,
I found my freedom.
You raged.
You built a prison from fear
and locked me inside.
But cages cannot hold
a soul determined to be free.
So I escaped.
Now I breathe without permission.
I speak without fear.
I live without apology.
I survived you.
And survival is not weakness.
It is victory.
So let the world hear me:
I am not a victim.
I am a survivor.
I am resilient.
I am whole.
And I am free.
Why do I hang onto your every word?
When I know I am merely the shame you play
The controlled part of the wanting to be loved game!
The ever changing rules,
keeping me tethered close to my false hope
Me the cup of empty that fills you up for a while
I know you want what I want,
but you want it from somebody else....
So I pick up the bread crumbs of your attention,
ignoring the being ignored part
The "not tonight I'm too busy" part
The "You can come over later and be with me" part
Then there's the clinging onto you till morning part
When daylight comes you can't pretend I'm him
You shower to rinse away the achy dirty feeling part,
Those feelings seemed less relevant in the dark
That pleasured pain that somehow tears us both apart
Me the proverbial fool
Taking
Needing
Accepting
Settling on less than nothing
Knowing that if he changes his mind
I will vanish, disappear, evaporate like the sweat from our bodies
Like the stench of our desperation
So I hope your pathetic wanting will merge with my own
I keep waiting and hoping
Dreaming and pretending
That somehow
Somewhere behind those vibrant eyes
you do
Really want me
Even though in my soul
I know
This is all I will ever have
This not enough bit that I cling to
That voice that knows one day you'll be gone
Hopefully not today, for without you I fear my tomorrow
Oh how I wish this heart wanted something else
anything else
That there was someone else
other than you
Why does it have to be you?
Don't be concerned friends, I have the one I want!
For Alfred Vassallo's "How does it feel to be Unwanted" contest.
Before this door, perhaps someday you'll stand,
And my heart will race, reaching out with eager hand,
For you remain the one I adore and cherish,
A love so strong, it will never perish.
You moved on effortlessly, while I remain tethered to you,
Ensnared by memories, unable to bid adieu,
Your presence lingers, refusing to let go,
I am trapped in this relentless undertow.
The scent of your golden locks still haunts this disarrayed bed,
The ache to see you again, an unquenchable dread,
To hold you close, to taste your sweet kiss,
Yearning for the love we will forever miss.
I envisioned growing old with you, like aged wine refined,
But you found happiness elsewhere, leaving me behind,
I do not wish to disrupt your newfound bliss,
I release you with a bittersweet kiss.
May you keep the key to the prison where I dwell,
For one day, I may yearn to break free from this spell,
Until then, I remain captive in our shared history,
Hoping for the day when we can both be free.
Form:
Midst the flit wandered mist of lame Autumn
tethered vestige suns, seas a riverbed
failed wanton seasons a whole third it saved
absence to course unforgiving outcome
to no avail, tooth and nail have they none
in favored sway Summer's full weight reversed
subtle eve of Earth's slumbered leaves embraced
whilst silhouette's danse, scales seized near bottom.
The flicker of light dew quench the needy
flora and fauna famished and focused
tour past the befallen qualm in despair
flits a blue, grey encumbered white-knotty,
the beaten lain quietude art dye cast
Wicket's Gate, windswept free ... Winter is here.
Faith is tethered to love;
together, they connect your heart to your soul.
Faith is a bridge, spanning the chasm
between mortality and spirituality.
And though faith is blind,
it guides your soul towards eternity.
Hope creates pathways to love,
without which life has no footing.
Trust supports love, and faith fuels trust;
their relationship is symbiotic and coexisting.
Empathy forms the foundation for faith, hope,
and love; the three pillars,
upon which humanity stands;
fortifying faith, harboring hope, and nurturing love.
Truth is often obscured, hidden behind
a fog of despair devoid of light.
Yet, hope, trust, and love
fuel faith's flame,
enlightening our souls and revealing truth.
I.
Fold, crease, unfold, sheets
of paper thin as possibility,
a crisp white plea to gravity.
Forty-five times, a cosmic origami
building bridges from table to the moon.
The mind dreams, unfurls
dimensions from the flatness,
each fold a petition of ascension.
But reality, that quiet artisan,
intervenes. Seven, eight,
perhaps nine folds—
the paper resists,
its fibers tightening,
a rebellion against a lunar destiny.
The geometry of dreams
collapses into the physics of limitation,
a negotiation between ambition and restraint.
II.
Sated with the hunger of excess,
we feast at counters where gluttony
is a ritual, a rhapsody of indulgence.
Plates piled high, offerings to the insatiable
gods of appetite, mouths moving
in a tempo of ingestion.
Like a paper's rebellion against too much
folding, the body, too, whispers its limits.
Sometimes in tears, sometimes in laughter,
but always in inevitability, the stomach's
silent protest, a wall that even the voracious
cannot breach. Eruption looms, a volcanic
protest, or else the creeping weight, its own
gravity pulling the body to a corporeal moon.
III.
From paper to body, from the moon
to the food, all are tethered by the finite,
implacable laws governing a universe
of possibility.
Fold and unfold, feast and decline,
the trajectory of excess tempered by
the ever-present specter of consequence.
Soulmates are conjoined in both heart and soul,
sharing the good times and the bad.
And when cancer strikes:
it's unbelievably devastating.
Tethered to a relationship built on love:
whatever touches one is felt by the other,
and shared hopes and fears are brought to light.
A diagnosis of cancer
leaves one feeling helpless:
unable to alleviate your partner’s suffering.
A lifetime of memories is the catalyst
that allows sad thoughts
to be spun into a comforting feeling:
recalling all the intimate times,
happily shared as soulmates and lovers.
But the hurt is real;
fueling feelings of anxiety and worry.
And when pain is all one has to look forward to,
death becomes preferable to the continued suffering:
both for the one dying,
and the one doomed to a lifetime of crying.
While shepherds watched their flocks so white
All contemplating dusk,
Their ’phones received some breaking news
All thanks to Elon Musk.
His Tweet announced a virgin birth
In a stable by an inn,
They danced around the windswept heath
To a flute and violin.
In Bethlehem was born a child
A-sleeping in a crib,
They scrolled the Twitter crowd’s response
And thought it rather glib.
The innkeeper was quite concerned
That crowds would congregate,
Quick-thinking Joseph found some wood
And made an extra gate.
A star was shining overhead
That none had seen before,
No pundit was prepared to talk -
Not even Patrick Moore.
The stationers caught unawares -
They hadn’t got a clue;
A strong demand for calendars
For ADs One and Two.
The cattle started lowing -
As only livestock can -
The news spread fast across the plains
To every working man.
The shepherds all were gobsmacked as
Emotions ran so deep,
The spectacle of three wise men
Sure beats watching sheep.
A cub reporter scrambled
As the iPhone users scrolled,
Instructed to get pictures of
Some frankincense or gold.
The wondrous child lay fast asleep
In swaddling clothes and fur,
A shawl fell from His mother’s back
As she spied the gift of myrrh.
When wise men booked rooms overnight
The licensee did smile,
But camels tethered in his yard
Left a substantial pile.
The faith that followed Jesus’ birth
Did prosper and endure,
But spare a thought for stable lads
Recycling that manure.
The roses are red, like the fire in me,?
But you hurt me again, a wound deep as the sea.?The violets are blue, a soft hue of despair,?
I’m lost in my thoughts, adrift in the air.
You build me up high, like a kite on the breeze,?Then with whispered confessions, you bring me to my knees.
?You’ve shattered my heart, it’s broken beyond repair,?
Yet I whisper those words, still lost in your stare.
I lay wide awake, the night heavy with tears,?Crying over the fragments of all of our years.?Through shadows and sorrows, my heart still clings tight,?
To the hope that you’ll change, that you'll see the light.
You hurt me again; your touch feels like ice,?
How do you do it so easily, leaving me in this vice??
in pieces, I wander, a ghost of what was,?Breathing without you, a life stripped of cause.
Every heartbeat reminds me how true,?
That I don’t know how to breathe without you.?
I circle the memories, I replay every song,?
Why would I move on when with you is where I belong?
You’re the world that I know, though it spins me in pain,?
Still I am drawn to you, like flowers to rain.?
I’m broken again, but I’m tethered to blue,?
The roses are red, but they fade when it’s you.