Long Tormented Poems
Long Tormented Poems. Below are the most popular long Tormented by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tormented poems by poem length and keyword.
“I need you
and dream of you
while I try to
drink you away”
I almost wrote a poem
that began like this
(many years ago)
to express my
unrequited infatuation
for a certain
beguiling & baffling
woman.
I almost wrote a poem
that rambled on
unpoetically about
all the tormented
feelings & dark ideas
that poisoned
my already warped mind.
But instead—
I drowned my sorrows
and dragged my
sorrowful sardonic self
through lowly jobs & lofty ideas
like a Kafkaesque Sisyphus
--and eructed corrosive prose
parodying frenemies
as friends became enemies
and I found myself
submerged in a private
cold war with the world
(during the Cold War)
in the torrid, torpid
River City where
the alienated artisans
ate their own.
Maybe someday
in the distant future (2020s?)
if I’m still around
if the world is still around…
I’ll actually write
this forgettable poem
and wish I hadn’t.
Old man Carter lived all alone, quietly nestled in his quaint little home.
Arthritis kept him crippled, writhing in excruciating pain, his wife long
since departed, leaving him nothing more to gain. His children made
arrangements, to place him in a nursing home. They lacked the
compassion to inform him face to face, knowing he would surely die in
this unfamiliar place. He lost his will to live, life had tragically passed
him by, without his long lost Eleanor, his only hopes were to die. There
he sat in his recliner, a rigid shell of an old man, quietly he uttered to the
Lord,..."Father, forgive me", as he clasped a revolver in his frail, arthritic
hand. Suddenly, an image appeared before him, it was clad in solid white.
Old man Carter could hardly open his eyes, for the radiance was unbearably
bright. Soon, the light diminished, the image's skin was fair. The old man's
eyes began to focus as he observed a figure with long, coarse
hair. The image's eyes were gentle, bearing scars above the brow. Open
wounds the width of nails pierced both its delicate hands. Then, in a soft-
spoken voice it said,..."No more shall ye suffer, old man". "Set aside thy
weapon", the image went on to say,..."You're going home to Eleanor,
upon this Christmas Day". The old man passed on to heaven, he was
discovered the very next day. "Such a tormented soul was he!" That's what
the neighbors would say. It was there on a table beside him, a scribbled
poem which sadly read,...
"Christmas is the day I wed,
The true love of my life;
Christmas is the day I've chosen,
To join my beloved wife
Jesus arrived to take me,
The hour's a quarter past four;
Suicide's never an option,
I'm with Jesus and my sweet Eleanor"...
Goodbye
the one thing that mankind can't seem to live without
is a love that's unconditional without question or doubt
Phileos love is the type of love that exists between friends
Eros love is the romantic love between women and men
but Agape love is the type of love that we all seek
an unlimited and unconditional love that we would all like to meet
a love that does not care about one's intelligence or beauty
a love that is not dependent on one's financial obligations or duty
a love that only gets stronger from day to day
a love straight from the heart that will never go astray
God allows us to experience His love authentically
for Agape love is a love of unconditonality
a love everlasting that will never die
a love transcending from the Kingdom up high
a love that will never diminish nor abate
a love that is alive and straight
a love that will make 2008 great
God loved us so much that He sent us His only child
a messenger of love to be with us for a little while
He came in human form to modify our behavior
to show us a pure love that was truly worthy of a Savior
humble in His manner and wise in His ways
He showed us a type of love that is unheard of in this day
and despite being persecuted, tormented and beaten to a pulp
at His last meal with His betrayer He did sup
and despite being denied three times by His most devoted friend
with His blood dripping on Mount Calvary as His life was about to end
with His dying breath He said to His Father God
"forgive them" for they are unaware of the love I came to impart
and that is the type of love we need to keep alive and straight
a love that will make the year 2008 great
to fall in love with Jesus is the best thing you could ever do
to have a true and honest love the will never fail you
a love between you and your personal Savior
a love that will make you want to change your behavior
a love that will never turn to hate nor discriminate
a love that is pure, true, alive and always straight
a love that will make the year 2008 great
Don’t linger in tears and sorrow
For it will not bring me back to you.
Just remember the lifetime we shared and how
I truly loved You.
Face each day with a new beginning,
A story yet to unfold.
You now must follow this new
Path for you have a new story that needs to be told.
I have to say you took this poor
Tormented soul from agony,
And now you’re called to help another save his soul
And set his spirit free.
Bring him back to the path of light to become the one he is destined to be
So take his hand and walk the path with him and see
The path to both your destiny’s.
Impatient winds shriek loud with anguished cries,
Sunlight giving way to dark tempest’s gain.
Silver light streaking across darkened skies,
Squalls blowing against door and window pain.
Sunlight giving way to dark tempest’s gain,
Driven rain splashes into flooded pools.
Squalls blowing against door and window pain,
Gail tossed trees bend beneath the weather’s rule.
Driven rain splashes into flooded pools,
Chill hail clattering from storm tormented skies.
Gail tossed trees bend beneath the weather’s rule,
Impatient winds shriek loud with anguished cries.
Adapted from my Sonnet 'The Storm', 08/12/16
Barry Stebbings
12/10/2019
I have made so many mistakes,
Allowed my life to be at stake,
All because of guilt and shame,
A cycle that no one on this earth could tame.
I have ran from the only one who could save,
Allowed myself to be a tormented slave,
All because I had never known true love,
A web that was spun consumed me like a glove.
But then a precious presence entered my soul,
Told me I was free and to just let go,
A lovely voice within my heart,
Said three beautiful words... Brand new start.
I have pushed away all attempts to feel,
For the pain of healing has become quite clear,
But the alternative was death in my body and spirit,
So once again I will allow myself not to fear it.
I have rebelled all because I wanted to be rebuilt,
And like a rose in mid- fall I started to wilt.
No more isolation,
No more complication,
Simplicity... wasn’t so simple
When all I knew was rough currents and invasive ripples.
I have climbed many mountains when all I had to do was speak,
And now I am on my way to the highest peak,
For the promise of the strong deriving from what was once weak,
Has finally come to pass in the humble, Pure and meek.
By: Sabina Nicole
You’re not good for me
You’ve just got to go
You’ve brought me nothing....
Nothing but sorrow!
You’ve sapped all my strength
You’ve tortured my heart
You’ve crushed my spirit
You MUST now depart!
You’ve splintered my wings
You’ve wrung my soul dry
You’ve fed my mind’s beasts
You’ve made your girl cry
I’ve tried those potions
I’ve tried the fake priests
I’ve followed the rules
I’ve had sacred feasts
What else can I do?
What chant can I pray?
To exorcise you
There just seems no way!
You’ve made your own home
So deep in my head
I’m obsessed by you
Tormented in bed
Get out! Please, Get Out!
For I must go on!
Be exorcised NOW!
For my sake...be gone!
When I am all clean
With no demon trace
Then....
Posses me once more
With your angel face!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Here, but for the grace of God
Tormented within my vessel,
To walk on burning coal,
To hear the cries of my hungry spirit,
To eat from an empty bowl.
To journey on without hope,
I stagger around and not through,
Given mouth, teeth and tongue,
Yet no bone to chew.
Given wisdom to make change,
Strength to see it done,
Slow is the pace I run this race-
Given bullets, but no gun.
I have knees that stay bent,
I have hands that stay in a clasp,
Words I’ve been given to say,
Their meaning I have yet to grasp.
Where is this valley,
This shadow of death,
This life I must get through
Before I can be given breath?
What deed to fortune must I take?
What many words must I spew?
What more torture to withstand,
To be given a seat in the pew?
Given the Shroud of Turin,
my symbolic flag of relenting
To lift my head towards the heavens-
And to begin, my repenting
You’ve heard of Brady and Hindley
And I'm sure Poll Pot too
You've heard of Fred and Rose West
and the evil that they do
Jack the Ripper had a son
Did he follow in his steps?
Find out about the boy
And learn what he did best
But this time there’s a change
From Jack, the carnage carried on
William and Emily are their names
And they played their evil as one
Even after their passing
To the world beyond this
They came back and tormented
Giving their children no wedded bliss.
Not just in Victorian times
Right up to Elizabethan
The legacy that Jack left
Still cannot be beaten.
Find out in my new book
A romantic, psychological gripper
You already know the title
The Rise of the Ripper
Analogous to black box
holding untold secrets,
I share the following self
introspection with ye,
which purported hidden truths
might set me free,
albeit laborious effort
to loose constituent amalgamated
compound elements unmined
tantamount to agony
riddling psyche effort to extract
thorny matters incumbent upon me
versus tapping Androcles and the lion
think Roman mythology.
Oftimes methinks... whoami
spending scores of years
with frustrated sigh
hermetically sealing body electric
housing generic garden variety guy
severely emotionally tormented
contemplating, integrating,
blithely urging wish to die
even at this moment,
yet reluctantly shy
away to embrace death wholeheartedly,
nor would I try
putting anonymous life (mine)
on the line, though...
nonetheless envisioning rejoicing
(as told to significant other -
the missus naturally averse
to my demise well nigh)
without ability to explain why
per se if mortal ailment
truncated mein kampf
Noel cowardly lie,
cuz becoming gratefully dead try
not to laugh while
yours truly cannot deny
permanent absence twill recognize
hard skool of knocks alumni
posthumously make his name linked with
hallowed as if that martyred,
though the feted occasion
beholds mine scattered
cremated ashes carried,
loosed, whisked... to sky
will not require men to don black tie,
nor mourn angst peppered soul,
no longer will any banshee cry
all quiet on western front forever reunify
me with cosmic consciousness eternal ally.