Long Trepidation Poems
Long Trepidation Poems. Below are the most popular long Trepidation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trepidation poems by poem length and keyword.
IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE LEFT TO SAY
i awaken
every time you come near
i’m shaken up
at the squeeze of your hand
ghostly beauty of your face
no words thus far
you merely make appearance
does my mind conjure?
or are you real…really there?
are you perceived after death?
there you are
in the backseat of a car…
at a performance…
with your heavenly soft hands
re”count”ed hair on your head
were you ever real?
my memories deep and wide
come back one by one
like a lei stirring waters
ebb and flow…returns to shore
your vision faded
you were lost as if in fog
I couldn’t find you
harrowing trepidation!
ashes contained in a jar
will i find your voice?
you left it on recording
“i love you,” it says
on a merry-go-round, Mom
over and over it plays
7/21/2021
Malcolm was on the brink of 40
And Martin had just turned 39
Two of God's foot soldiers were taken so quickly,
way before their time
Or maybe it was their time, their time
to truly transcend
Yes, a transcendence into the arena of
the righteous and heavenly
You see, Martin said, "I've been to the mountaintop and
I've looked over, and I've seen the promised land."
And brother Malcolm said, "By any means necessary."
A picturesque view was the two, both seemingly
worlds apart, yet kindred spirits of the same heart
Men fighting for a cause that was a part of their being,
which made it virtually impossible to depart
Dear God chose them and they listened, and they learned,
and they prepared, and they went forth unabated without
trepidation
When God calls you for your service, be it big or small,
Will you listen, learn, prepare, and go forth, or will you
sit apathetically in the seat of procrastination?
I implore you, please, sit not and wait not for tomorrow
is not promised, day or night
Get Up! Stand Up!
Press on toward that morning light.
Don't quit! Never give up! Never give up the fight!
A miasma of memories… nights in solitude
Spiraling perdition… shadows intrude
Underlying trepidation… behind vacant eyes
A journey interrupted… by pathetic lies
Abysmal human flaw… egregiously depraved
Disguised in shining armor… sanity unsaved
A heart deeply damaged… no diastolic rhythm
A skeleton of tragedy… a diabolic victim
Psychopathic vengeance... brainwashed auras
Sinister and lurking… trapped in night horrors
Phantom turbulence … cause unknown
Screaming nightmares… voice is your own
Thuds of heavy footsteps… following behind
Dreadful premonitions… racing in your mind
Full body tremors… demons dance nearby
Destruction of a lost soul... surrender or die
Originally written as "Funeral of Self Will" July 18, 2016.
Edited and re-titled "Surrender or Die" April 14, 2018
Death and Taxes
Death enters our lives and fear draws its breath
each day that we wake until it leaves us in death
Outpacing mortality would surely set man free
to leave our worries behind in total transcendency
Fear motivates anxiety, causing concern and dissension
physical and mental burdens of overwhelming contention
We are encircled by fear like Earth upon its axis
Trepidation intimidates us like death and taxes
There are only two ways in which to overcome fear
To become immortal or die, it’s simply that clear
Don’t allow darkness to capture our heart and mind
Facing crippling fears head on will keep them confined
Fear anchors itself in the roots of fears that we feel
Once we stop feeding them, our maladies will heal
8/23/2021
My spirit is forlorn, frightened,
and impaired.
You’re not hiding here in this hideous hell;
no longer your eyes, are broken in a cataract cell,
instead, you graze in the free fields,
feeding on the flock’s frivolous phrases,
now part of a buoyant herd,
while I wallow in the ocean's pitiful past,
gliding in my hurricane of pain.
You wander merrily atop the mountain.
I endeavor to revive my sunlit sanity.
Yet my visions are still clouded
by memories of your muddled myths.
I can’t omit the seeds you sowed; they still thrive in the scintillating sky.
I’m jealous of the verdant pastures you’ve found,
now that your mind is at ease,
no longer full of traffic themes.
Instead, the only gridlock you hear
is when the breeze blows a blizzard.
I desired to be the one to settle your myriad nerves,
for I had been your anchor while you swam in incognito tides.
I wanted the glory of seeing your benevolence rise; in my movie, I cultivated a revival mission.
In reality, I heard your sheep bleeps,
when you articulated the need to be with others who live in the dark.
A new family is formed one that omits labels and the only trepidation is sustenance.
A Hebridean now glows auspicious with the luminous rays.
I’m waving goodbye again,
as usual, you turn the other way propelling me off the ridge of hope to pose with the expired weeds.
Our reunion was for a season,
and I must accept we were always meant to be estranged for a reason.
Wired mortal from the English Art
Banished from his home, spotted from a distance
Noble amongst scrawling African inscriptions
First veneration of mystical minds
Take a bow, take a bow.
Obliterating deliberate disregard
From interrupters of our histories,
With trophies, allays a regret and loss
So little for so great a heart,
Take a bow, take a bow.
Liberal lord of limpid looks
Grand philosophy too many for little minds,
Art of African arts
Impenetrable obscurity to the impatient,
Take a bow, take a bow.
Entangled genus in the darkest harbor,
Found in a waste howling wilderness,
Left to die in the gaols like their many kills,
And death too weak, spewed him in his flowers
Take a bow, take a bow.
Scrupulous dexterity of the bearded laurel
Multitudinous nobility and countless soothing saccharine
A restoration of our dignity not celebrated, and un-sung.
Tyrannous candor engulfed intelligential
Take a bow, take a bow.
Obdurate at the palaces of murderers
Smiling at military cavalcades, the terror of comrades.
Where barrels pacify the wrangling of children men.
A beholding bluff like Ogun’s iron garb
Take a bow, take a bow.
Yea, the snow-like signature in scraggy form
Impresses nature’s validity on his authority,
Corroding flesh lacerate aptness from his brow
Gyrating orbits of unmatched intelligence
Take a bow, take a bow.
Invisible man from the “kongi” kingdom
Imposing trepidation on pharaohs in the jungle,
Brawny penchant where others retire,
On Lagos streets and London’s courtyard
Take a bow, take a bow.
Nibble in niggle, stripping rogues of honor
Loathing unsavory milk unlike sycophants
Discarding opulence to mediate for the poor
With no reward or crown in intention
Take a bow, take a bow.
Knack for wars with imperious monsters
A constant blustery of unrepentant “Vagabonds”
Dusk till dawn, yearning for Justice.
Crying still, for murdered motherland
Take a bow, take a bow.
And if he dies tomorrow,
As death to all must come,
His posture, a statue for ever,
On our minds and in those rulers of the jungle.
Take a bow, take a bow.
Dedicated to Prof. Wole Soyinka
Nobel Laurate 1986
"Some places are pitch black"
Deserted by other children
The darkened playroom confronts The Kid
"I must be supervised"
By which he means
Protected from the powers of darkness
The would-be supervisor
In turn is confronted
With tight tunnels and tiny staircases
And an accumulated coating
Of kiddy grime
Which doesn't bother the Kid.
He is unamused by pulling of scary faces
From within the labyrinth's cramped atrium
But instead requires illumination for his explorings
From a torch he has handy.
Disappointed that he must proceed alone
For reasons of size and stature
Exhorting "Try! Try!"
Yet he goes bravely forward.
Crawling through intestinal convolutions
Lit up as much as possible by the torchlight
Up into the high reaches of the system
Sliding finally down a long tube and out
Through a slippery exit passage
This is a prototype
Of a non-living carnivore
With which we can peacefully coexist
Relatively unscathed
an old hag
an old witch
strictly old school
is talking to young people
She tells them
that it is darker
than they think
the end times approach
She proclaims
she sees the world ending
and is warning them
of what is to come
She is following
the dark master
of the universe
waiting for the end
and she is afraid
she sees the world
the end of things
the end of life
She is afraid
she tells her students
to boldly face
the coming end
with fear
and trepidation
and anxiety
waiting for the end
and in the end
of the world
they will be born
again
as things circle back
to the beginning
of the end and the end
of the beginning
thus it has always
played out
in the world
endless nightmares
and in the end,
she will wake up
and embrace her fate
at the end of time
Arms outstretched.
Hands out thrust.
Fingers stretched out, reaching, straining, hurting,
just barely fail make contact, left hanging untouched.
Only a tiny spark zings between the fingers.
Like static electricity,
which flows when bodies
stroked with emotion
get charged up with a warm dry rub
and discharge with a tiny whip's crack.
Our love forever poised,
never had the impetus
for completion to fruition.
As we balked at commitment
fraught by quandary and trepidation
of expectation's negated equation.
Poised thus, we now will never know
what could have been,
what becoming could have done
if our fingers touched
touche.
I lie without consequence
A wasteless existence that stands between heaven and hell
Though I don’t believe in it.
I’ve lost my way with no way to be found
But in the dark of the night I look for a way home.
I lie without consequence
A wasteless existence between heaven and hell
I am afraid of being alone
Of standing with just my soul in its glanced reflection
Reaching for a hand that no one will grasp
I’ve looked in there eyes with promises, afraid to lose them, fearing to be abandoned and lied
I lie
And hate every centimeter of my being
Wishing every part of me would die.
I’ve feared me for far to long, God has no dealings with this soulless, passion.
Tears forever fall in the shadows of me, for I am alone
A weakened presence that dies for love, a constant wanting that will never be granted.
I lied
In efforts to rid the clutch of being rejected, I’ll do it before you try
Lied to keep afloat, a calling, a need that was never needed.
Lied to hold
Lied in fear
Lied to erase…me
But In the darkest part of my trepidation, I found a way back home
Home…. to me, a being I was once loved in raptures.
I no longer lie
But now I am alone
And that’s…okay