Long Torment Poems
Long Torment Poems. Below are the most popular long Torment by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Torment poems by poem length and keyword.
I tell you suffering servant, weary of your days,
Do not look to the sun for hope,
Look inside your heart dear friend and find a light that helps you fight the fight
of faith until the end.
I know you cannot see a future that seems to be without,
The torment you feel inside you and your will oppressed by doubt,
But I tell you God's within you and if you fight to see her clear,
You will soar above the darkness and vanquish all your fear,
So dear brother haunted mercilessly by a desire to hang from a rope,
Do not look to the dky for hope,
Look within your heart and fly with stars above,
Sings songs of love,
And let your soul feel the sublime,
Of knowing it;s divine.
"Bliss like thine is brought by years;
Dark with torment and with tears."
Emily Bronte - Sleep Not (1846) st.1
_______________________________
often, I am in the throes and agony of my mind
I am tortured and each day I grapple with sad thoughts
that pinion and shackle me to the past
with anchors unyielding, yet beautiful
with memories vibrant and ever and immortal . . .
and in meditation, I look beyond the firmament
to a heavenly utopia where there is only stillness
a celestial unearthly place divine
a paradise, tranquil and lovely
where I sojourn in serenity . . .
and there, lissome and graceful I glide- a butterfly
I float and drift among ethereal emerald trees
yet, the foul besmirch of my past follows
all those shadows that restrain me
but the beauty beckons me . . .
I wish for silken repose and to rest my mind of thoughts
to dream- to sleep and slumber in total stillness
but, in dreams I struggle with the past
so in blissful contemplation
I find my peace in my quietude . . . .
______________________
May 21, 2018
Poetry/Free Verse/Vibrant, Blissful, Quietude
Copyright Protected, ID 05-1024-942-21
All Rights Reserved, 2018, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Eight Word Challenge
sponsor, John Hamilton, Judged 2018
Second Place
Submitted to the Premier contest, Vibrant, Blissful, Stillness
sponsor, Unseeking Seeker, Judged 02/25/2022
Fifth Place
You say you're sorry
But your not
You want me to forgive
But I won't
You say something racist
Then give this fake apology
What do you want
For me to forgive and forget
But what you said
Is permanently etched in my head
So no I won't forgive and forget
I won't give you the satisfaction
I won't let you win
I won't submit
To this narrative
Where you somehow make yourself the victim
So you can take your 'apology' and shove it
Because to me it's meaningless
So you can choke on your fake guilt
Instead of being a racist maybe you should go into acting
Because this performance
you nailed it
But don't think I'll fall for it
You knew what it meant
You used it to torment
Me
To bully
Me
But you don't know the history
You are so ignorant
This is white privilege
Because while your trying to unlearn your racism
I and many other had to heal from the worlds hatred
So excuse me If I don't forgive and forget
So I won't pretend for your benefit
The ending of your salvation
Is the ending of your life
Like Lazarus he's very poor
He wear sack cloth, he's sick
He only eat the crumbs under the rich man's table
The rich man has all the things in life
He is famous, he's powerful, he's respected
Death is the equalizer of life
Lazarus died, the rich man also died
Lazarus died angel came and bring Lazarus to heaven
The rich man died, for few seconds
He open his eyes and he's in the torment of hell
The rich man made so much request to Abraham
To send Lazarus to send back to Earth and preach to his 5 brothers
The rich man became an Evangelist this time
Requesting somebody must preach repentance to his house
To know avail his request wasn't granted
No more rewinding of life, no turning back my friends
We have given 70 years on Earth
To find that salvation in our life
If you can't, negotiate to Him, pray to God
If you find that salvation, repent and surrender
Sign the covenant and do His will no matter what.
The Hallucination of the Unknown
Eyes closed, slumbering,
I fall into the depths of the night
Stars collide, the heart of the universe pounds
Flowers dance
And I, standing alone on the edge of a cliff
I can only dip my finger in the moon's glow
To write a poem
Silent plea, unheard, unheeded....
Tomorrow holds a promise, a vacuum,
Today carries its load
And yesterday, its regret
Altogether, the unknown is frightening
A cycle of torment
Burying me in this world, making of me
A hallucination within its own!
Eyes closed,
Heart dripping with blood
Colliding fates
Love spelled as a mirage
A song unwritten
A season forsaken
A dive into the unknown
Pages left blank
Diaries burned
The monsters gape
The unknown is cold and murky
Eyes closed,
Fully awake,
I hear the echo of what should have been
And can only cling on to its shadows!
The eyes I have do not amount to the things I see.
Amidst the blinding lights, I suffer from the intensity of existing.
My eyes are merely a tool to complete my appearance.
I see what I see if and only if the girth in my soul allows me to do so.
In this wonderland of far-reaching dreams, my eyes betray me.
Eyes of supposed sight fill my pondering mind with endless visions.
Now my soul has intertwined with my eyes to make me see you.
In this wretched dreamland, I get
lost in the supposed sight provider of yours.
The endless haze of uncertainty radiating from you petrifies me in the place.
This is a dream! It has to be nothing but an absurd dream. How else would this superficial sight provider amount to such depth in a person?
How in all sense of truth does such a perfection exist within the confines of my vision?
This is the absolute torment that was waiting for me.
This tomfoolery of getting lost in such depth with a foreign feeling kills me.
If only I could hypnotize you to conceal that forest of eyes from me.
If only I had subjected myself to being invisible, to forsake these feelings.
But if that came to pass, how would I have been able to gaze upon such perfection that makes me go breathless?
This bafflement is nothing but the games of a soul, and I am nothing but a slave to this contradicting soul.
My Choice
One road is rocky
with many holes.
The entrance gate is
narrow and few find it.
It is steep, with a
long climb.
A narrow path
with treacherous footing.
But the end is a place
of eternal rest, beauty and peace.
The other road is smooth
with no potholes.
The entrance gate is broad
and high and many find it.
The road is wide
no guard rails needed.
It is a flat road, so
legs never grow tired.
But the end is eternal pain, suffering
and torment.
It is easy to follow the crowd
and take the road most travelled.
But, I will change direction
and take the road less travelled.
We regret words said; causing others pain
And before we know it, friendships are slain
We can't stop spiraling thoughts in our minds
But only be guided with words so kind
We can't force man to look into their souls
We can only help and hope they will know
to contemplate and to better themselves
in helping their character to excel
Be thankful for the desolate dark times
They're our life's trials made of building blocks
forming our resilience and our rock
Be thankful for the hardships and sorrow
That brought a feeling inside so hollow
That tears us apart but then passes by
And the distress of life that makes us cry
Be thankful to God for pain that has passed
Taught us that whirlwinds of torment don't last
The cup is half full, never half empty
From our fervent hardships stems plenty
Of blessings around us. Reap them gently!
Sweet Life will never be a blissful breeze
Assurance and hopefulness are the keys
For verily after hardship comes ease
*Note to the reader
This is a motivational poem which is firstly a reminder to myself but also meant for anybody and everybody who is going through hardship. Soon the sun will shine and there will be light. Be patient and soon you will see light at the end of the tunnel.
In Florida state prison, a tale I'll unfold,
The first electrocution, a story untold.
Anguish, pain, in chambers of despair,
A prisoner's torment, his soul stripped bare.
Electric currents surged through veins like fire,
His body convulsed, his screams were ignored.
The pain, relentless, coursing through his core,
As death approached, its grip, he bore.
Through darkness he traveled, his spirit confined,
A prisoner of agony, cruel and unkind.
Till finally, death's embrace offered reprieve,
Release from the torment, forever to relieve.
In Florida's history, a chilling page was turned,
The first electrocution, a cruel lesson not yet learned.
Yet the echoes of anguish forever remain,
A reminder of his price the state still ignores.
The question is, who is to blame?
I often ask myself this question with no other thought than to torment myself. I have always concluded to admit (though it is a straight-out lie) that I am to blame. I am the cause of these insecurities…these torments…these infernal thoughts—my literal insanity. A part of me actually believes that lie! I am in awe. Can you fathom such a thing? A lie that I know is in fact a lie is so deeply strung in the recesses of my brain as to lead me to believe that is IS the truth! I am to blame. Why justify this lie into ostensible innocence and truth? Who the hell do I have to convince!?
I think I mean to torment myself to the grave…I have justified many a lie for that sole purpose. On the pedestal the lie rises and engulfs the spirits, taking with her the very pride and dignity I pretend to promote. But what is the pleasure in a lie when there is no one to lie to but yourself?
So I lie today and every day. I write hour upon hour of useless words that I, in all of my nothingness, can only appreciate to its fullest. And I laugh when somehow through the valleys of mendacity, a raw truth emerges. It has many eyes and many ears. It can be tasted that someone…someone out there has been convinced.
I remember my wife was holding our child
I had just lashed out at her,
Had beat her to the core
With the brutality of my merciless words
She was trapped in the fury of my hellish present,
Sucked up in the very heart of it
What haunts me the most…
Was how calm the baby was through it all
There she was in hysterics,
Literally out of breath in her own sobs,
Clutching my daughter’s little hand
In her feeble, sorrowful embrace
She looked into her eyes
The child was looking straight into her soul
I paused from my torturing and watched,
As that serene child never looked away
From the globes of her mother’s eyes
Straight into her pain-filled life,
Trapped in the ugly, sticky redness of her sagging cheeks
I wonder how one so young
Could even bear looking into the face of raw sorrow
That void was beyond me…
That child that day…was not my own
A crack of a smile appeared on her face and I completely lost it
She enjoyed her mother’s sorrow!
She enjoyed it…
If she could only see me now…
How happy—how happy that child would be