Long Trap Poems
Long Trap Poems. Below are the most popular long Trap by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trap poems by poem length and keyword.
TRAPPED
I run through life wounded with a steel jawed trap
ensnared onto my foot restricting my life’s essence.
Day in and day out I’m never able to shake it off,
in relentless movements as fast as I could go
so no new pain touches me.
I fight for sustenance; I fight to inhabit this life
damaged and wearied, from taking life’s persecutions
This invisible torment of my afflictions you can’t
Identify with.
I hold close that God is always watching and will pull me from
The of muddied roads that I run. He hears my tormented cries;
He feels my tortured spirit; He sees I can’t stop this path I’m on.
You say I’m not getting free but the running is
critical to me, as long as I can run, I’ll move,
don’t ask why, don’t question it, don’t try.
It’s not something you’ll ever comprehend.
Don’t question my animal instinct, let me be free
from what haunts me, from the nothingness.
You’re not saving me, you got nothing on me.
I’m God’s creature and vow to be who I am.
You say the war is over but the hurt remains
I keep a mask on through good times and bad
They don’t think my life counts but God sees the
merit of my existence.
Every day, it’s my struggle not yours, no one can imagine
the heartbreak, the suffering, the sorrow cutting my soul
as deeply as the rapt foot, it won’t come off it’s always
mine alone.
I’m still fighting, the battle rages on in my mind.
Stop your judgment, leave me be, if you have not
Been through this anguish run with me or without me.
I have accepted the aloneness in this fight.
This trap keeps me from fending off life’s predators.
I’m a solitary being with a broken spirit. My desperate
expression is evidence enough. Though my instincts are
powerful I’m not able to discern when I’m in danger.
I know GOD watches this unbearable burden I carry.
I pray when my time is up He gives me warning
So in the final moments I can stand still as I’m being
raised up out of this hell into Heaven.
My Angels in Heaven see me; I’m okay to die this way;
it’s not for you to say. I beg God to keep His guard on me.
I’m done defending this. I pray for you without any
prayers in return.
The quick sands of fate cave in
The sucking darkness captures
The weed of agony marsh slithers
Entangled hope of escape smothered
Hazard paves the pathway of life
For the destiny to wander unseen.
Uncalculated footsteps waver
The poise vacillates uncontrolled
The trap of time in the mire waits
For the weary traveller to arrive
Walking in the shadow of destiny
On the unknown pathway of life.
The survival contest then begins
In the arena of the trying times
Struggling hard to reach salvation
Tread on the pathway of life
Until the call comes to join
The ordained farewell party.
Destiny is not an excuse
The walk is one’s own walk
The pathway lighted or dark
The lamp maker within decides
Amble on garden path or marshy trail
The inner voice dictates.
The light of consciousness guides the being
In the journey of realization
To the blissful destination of divine sanctity
At the end of the pathway of life.
_____________
October 28, 2022
In the wind, hear a plaintive, mournful wail.
It is more than a wolf caught in a trap.
It's more than fishing gear catching a whale
and rainforests being wiped from the map.
It is a voice that cannot speak in words.
Across the ages, you discern the moan
of vanishing prairies, buffalo herds,
that's carried by plowed up topsoil, windblown.
Earth's untamed ecosystems we hold dear
are crying softly, asking for our help,
grimly warning that they will disappear.
Like a badly injured dog's dying yelp,
hear the wilderness's last gasping breath,
"Save me from the clench of languishing death".
I watched as silence danced with shadows,
Playing the melody sung by my mind.
Its blanket covered the darkness—
broken only by a ray of light through a crack in the cave wall.
I groped through the dark toward the stone,
but the gale was too thick for my arms to swim.
I imagined a ghost whispering—
yet only silence listened.
Echoes, like thunder in a deep ocean,
ricocheted fear like a trap set to spring.
Ghosts rushed out from the corners they lurked—
only for me to hear silence whisper: “Come out of there.”
Its voice flowed like a river of serenity through a forest.
I begged silence to stop its torment,
but it had ears that could not hear.
I tried to run, but a boulder blocked my path.
Then I screamed.
It was then I knew—
the light coming through the crack was my father’s flashlight.
Magical, mysterious, completely incomprehensible!
Is there anything more divine than a seed,
Any seed, large or small, any size at all?
Infused within its compact evolving time capsule
Is written all the instructions for the development
Of every form of life: human, animal, plant.
Every line of DNA delineates the perfect sequential
Unfoldment of beauty, symmetry, form and style.
The physical matrix is generated to match the
Spiritual etherical pattern from which it springs.
Within each of us lies the seeds of greatness
Planted there by an Unseen Hand of Grace,
Meticulously designed to bring forth uniqueness
Offering to the world the Creator’s Thought, perfect and artful.
Yet, taken for granted, we are dull to the magnificence
Of the built-in resources which lie inside each of us,
Oblivious to the power of our Divine connection with our Source.
But, at the perfect designated timing, at the ripened season,
We spring forth to shower our beauty onto the world,
Blessing humankind, acknowledging and praising the Divine.
Never again doubt your greatness. Your perfection is assured.
It is structured in your DNA. Your spirit holds the Divine pattern,
And every resource necessary for its unfoldment.
You are the seed of the next generation, of the next millennium,
Of the next universe unfolding over time and experience.
Turn your mind away from smallness. Your darkness is a lie,
meant to trap you inside a seething hell of illusion.
Reach into your Holy self, shining God outward
Upon the world and humankind.
You have seeds of greatness within you
to change, expand, evolve, improve
Everything you can imagine, touch and see.
Live with intention born of your personal Divine spark of life,
Creating your personal heaven right where you stand.
Guided by Divine inspiration, your life can be all God meant it to be.
Copyright Chula Fleming © August 31, 2024
The Bees Knees
She was the buzz between the feathery blossom
The flutter midst buds and petals in cloak of fur
Rapturously delving the gene laden pollen
To trap the powdery wonder upon her hairy legs
And transfer to elsewhere blooms of Summer
Reveling in its dizzying smells and peaceful hue
Nectar sated in this golden seasonal time
She must return to face the chores and feed her chums
To sweep and clean and oust the dead
Create a pristine nursery for the queen
And build a perfect wax work cell
Where stored supplies of hand maiden honey
And jelly that feeds the nest, creates a queen
Her days are short and action packed
And cannot remain when her energy’s spent
She flees her lair in one final fixed resolve
Relieves the hive from her expended body
To soar the heights and taste the dregs of summer days
And grasp the hazy blooms from better days
Relive their perfumed air and colored leaves
In one final blend of oblivion
Oh Despair, Despair (to tune ke sera)
When I had grown and reached an age
I did a job expected of me
Would I be rich and earn a good wage
This is what I would be
I became a nurse
Not much in my little purse
The teaching was hard as well
Couldn’t wait for the bell
Didn’t feel that well
If I had had my life again
I might have been a car engineer
Do my own service, fix an old van
Save me a bob or three
Oh the car repair
Can be for the women too
With grease and grime in their hair
See the motor improved
Get the car on the move
Now that I am all grown up
no mum to tell me what I should do
I continue as very hard up
That’s no surprise at all
Oh the nurse’s job
The teacher’s as well you see
The money is not a lot
That’s the end of the jot
That’s the lot, the lot.
Laston Simuzingili linkedin with this American
maverick freelancing writing scout,
(and word maven par excellence
Matthew Scott Harris always ha sellout),
thru Spoken Word route, a popular global
Facebook poetry forum prodded me to venture,
without shadow of a doubt, and try my hand
to craft, this rhyme for that reason tout
ting expertise (mine) forging metrical
syncopation, which electronically soundless shout,
though tribalism within Lusaka, Zambia beyond
my literary purview hence any objection
i.e. cerebral workout, sans the following
amateurishly wrought gobbledygook by devout atheist
please do not be shy to call me out,
or send strongarm lance of the law if I
unwittingly commit any faux pas, this author,
who took mini crash (course) test dummy
about said convoluted titled topic unbeknownst
to him as little as Trout
Fishing in America,
cuz he gets this hooked Semitic Schnozzle snout
stuck, while groveling, ferreting, expanding
his knowledge base no matter he doth spout -
whale visiting unfamiliar leviathan African bailiwick
may deliver just deserved desserts fallout.
According to the following Google url search result,
I reddit at whatsapp
http://www.qfmzambia.com/2018/10/07/
tribalism-has-no-place-in-zambia-
First Republican President
Kenneth Kaunda opened
potential Pandora box trap
expressing honest opinion, and observed
discrimination predicated on snap
judgement, or based on tribe equally
unfair methodology to foster, and rocket rap
pore, and ethnic background as well
owns no place in Zambia, cuz smeared pap
(as conk curd by ghost of Milton Shapp),
Closer that dreaded angel comes,
Nearer my God, to Me.
Family fallen, too near the edge.
I walk in doom for tomorrow.
In crazy and cowardly remote concerns,
You death draw a lottery place in line.
Gamble me this, pitiful reaper,
Are you even real?
Within two feet now,
A rattling within my rib cage staggers,
But my brother drank his death,
And my new mother's mind just withered.
Chronically brain is wet and warped,
But I was born into your game.
Allergic to kindness and good works alike,
Death circles my brain, my drain in perpetuum.
Your manufactured trap of vomit and cane,
And sugar plum dreams of gutters and glee,
I dodge you again, but for luck or for timing,
Life leaves daily, per moment of fear.
Eyes of the ancients, wise and unchanging,
Silken strands fall and flow upon the warmth of the thriving lines of youth.
The warmth of life and love abounding an soaring with the four winds,
And the remembrance of old wounds healed but not forgotten,
For the heart hides all from the world, though one may still see within.
Emotions and memories untamed, burning passions and desires take flight beyond the heavens,
Though the soul remains unyielding, unwaning, caught in the trap of time and yet immortality.
A childs laughter breaks the darkness and the world awakens to the beating of a yearning heart,
And the future is laid before you without hinderance, caught up in the wild abandonment of your fear.
Earthly shackles are thus loosed from a loving hopeful spirit; that of which no man or God holds sway.
For your soul is that of the untamed, restless essence of shalott and aphrodite, endless as the burning depths of the sun,
Though this heart be tender, she is not scathed or tormented by the demons of her yesteryears; they are crushed beneath her silhouette,
To find love and hold on until death; unto the childs smile she remains steadfast; she is an ancient goddess of the world unknown,
You, who are without need of mortal man, that you may find your joy within the grasp of the time laid before you,
You, who were, are still, and will remain the rock, the lover, friend, mother, daughter, without ceasing and abounding in love as vast as the sea,
And shall be forever beneath the stars dwelling among humanity until the end of time.
I've said it before. I'll say it again.
You don't have to be what you've always been.
There's always the choice to break all your chains
Or give in to fear, in bondage remain.
So many will live content with their lot,
Pretending to be somebody they're not.
Looking at life it's amazing to see
Those choosing to live in complacency.
Who give up on hope, let go of their dreams,
Hold fast to the bland, avoiding extremes,
And do only what authorities taught,
Pretending to be somebody they're not.
You might have been told back when you were young,
There is nothing new, all songs have been sung.
That life has no worth, it's all but a game
That one cannot win, each day is the same.
But that is a trap in which we are caught,
Pretending to be somebody we're not.
It is so easy to sit and complain
About every loss, not seeing the gain.
How can we learn if no questions are asked?
Nothing gets done if we won't do the task!
And so we won't find the treasure we've sought
Pretending to be somebody we're not.
Now, don't get me wrong... I'm in the same boat.
I sit in the dark, do nothing of note.
I'm hiding my light for fear I'll be seen.
Trying to keep myself ritually clean.
Stay where I am though the water's so hot.
Pretending to be somebody I'm not.
I try to improve a little each day
But time has a way of slipping away.
I just cannot do all I think I should...
But even my little has to be good.
I win and I lose... The battles I've fought
Pretending to be somebody I'm not
If I keep trying, perhaps, I can stop
Pretending to be somebody I'm not.