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.
Life's struggles often lure me down dead end roads,
littered with dangerous curves and stumbling blocks.
You, my Heavenly angel, remove the heaviest loads,
those burdens trying to keep me tied up in gridlocks.
When darkness and temptation lay frigid fingers on me
my mind becomes shadowed with sorrows and fears
but your divine light shines bright so I can break free
from anxieties and despair. My trepidation disappears.
You are a gentle breeze, chasing gray clouds from the sky,
a minstrel of lullabies, singing a troubled sheep to sleep,
a butterfly on my shoulder when faith is in short supply,
my comforter in times of need, wiping tears when I weep.
In Scripture, God has written of your loving devotion.
In your gentle hands I picture you offering me His Book.
You are the righteous source of my spiritual emotion.
Dear Angel, may I always receive your approving look.
Under your celestial wings I find refuge and protection,
keeping me sheltered from harm and turning evil away.
You bring peace to my heart because you are a reflection
of God's mercy. I pray that near me you will always stay.
September 7th, 2017
Ah! For the good old days when flying was a breeze!
When one could check a bag and board a plane with ease.
Now, air travel has all the charms of a stagecoach ride.
'Tis more than the beleaguered traveler ought to abide!
With great trepidation I ordered a ticket thro' my computer.
(And with my feeble computer skills, I could have used a tutor!)
Tho' my final destination was Philadelphia, Pennsylvania,
I feared I'd strike the wrong key and end up in Lithuania!
Before you can even fly those friendly, pristine skies,
You must bear a humiliating search by the security guys.
I had to remove my belt and shoes, thus adding to my woes,
Since I wore a pair of holey sox, exposing my corny toes!
A soda and a stale bag of pretzels is now the usual fare.
A lady regaled me about her operations, adding to my despair!
And wouldn't you know it, the plane parked at Concourse A;
I had ten minutes to get to Concourse C, one half mile away!
Round and round went the carousel - I had a sinking sensation.
Sure enough, my bag was missing, adding to my frustration!
Fiddle faddle and fiddle sticks! I'm tired of all this fuss;
Next time I travel, I'm taking a Greyhound bus!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
The road to heaven is before us
It is not difficult to find
It is enshrined in the word of God
Jesus is the way, the truth and life
And so we should not be frightened where we are going to
He is with us
If we put our trust in Him death becomes a comma and not a period
It is a debt that awaits all mortals
It is a path all mortals must thread
Because it is strewn with fear and trepidation
Man keeps wishing it away
Man must live every day as if it were his last
If we are prepared to die
Then we are prepared to live
Cause dying young or old does not matter
What matters is the grace to live hereafter
A good man may die young yet be satisfied with living
A wicked man is not satisfied even with long life
If we are ready to die, then we are ready to live!
Another typical insipid day
the sweet, crimson glowing ember
falling revealing the lustrous serenity
of kaleidoscopic skies
Elysian whispers around
my remaining canvas of arid
Gossamer and prosaic filled voids
replaces citrine, saffron nirvana
Bodies surrounding shimmer effulgent colors
I'm yet to remain in my dull ashen-sparked cave
A sudden delirious shriek
gleeful, exuberant faces
twisted into pale onyx terror
An apocalyptic doomsday guaranteed
Terminal of mankind ; destruction of
of earth prophesied
Everyone's glistening resplendent canvases
splattered grim trepidation
Painted with oblivion; like mine
with included kneaded dollops of overwrought
Perhaps the revolutionary, prodigious hysteria
sparked fluorescent inspiration
My ebony pedestrian now being sparkled
in an euphoric nostalgic feeling
A persistent voice echoing;
...
An exploded erosion of scarlet filled emotions
I clutch my brush and become the creator I once was;
Amongst the cacophonic abyss
painting an ephemeral, nebulous word
into my perennial realms of cerulean hopes
Brushstrokes of light touched canary among daffodil fields
Turning into shapes of radiant marigold inspiration
painted over leftovers of monotonous drab
In the end's haunting echo of emptiness
I found my exuberant-buttercup passions of a sunlit meadow
My bolstering voice of ivory whispered inspirations
I am an azure propelling star among cobalt filled echoes
of forgotten melodies
I've reimagined my painted chiaroscuro perspectives,
crafting a bold artistic masterpiece
Mission “Aanchal”
As twilight of village's quiet dawn unfolds, a young mother cradles her infant, bound by fragile thread of youth and inexperience. Her eyes behold the remnants of puerility, peer into the future with a blend of hope and trepidation. The baby's cries pierce the early morning air, a stark reminder of the responsibilities she must shoulder. Amidst the whispers of wind and rustling leaves, she stands as a symbol of resilience and determination.
throbbing hearts of youth,
motherhood blossoms subtly ~
new life, tender care.
She walks through the dusty paths to the clinic, her baby swaddled close to her heart. Each step she puts forward is a testament to her courage and the tacit vow she has made to nurture and protect. Our health workers greet her with warm smiles, their presence a beacon of support and guidance right from her adolescence, pregnancy and postnatal period. Here she learns the importance of nutrition, vaccinations, common ailments and the simple yet profound acts of care that will shape her child's future.
tiny hands grasp hope,
guided by wisdom and love ~
health’s promise fulfilled.
As the days blend into nights, the young mother grows alongside her child. Their bond, strengthened by every heartbeat and breath, harmonises mutual growth and understanding. In the village, they are not alone, rather community engages with them, an unspoken pact to uplift and support. For in the health of each child and mother, future of the village is nurtured and preserved.
little heartbeats rhyme
future generations rise ~
life’s cycle renewed.
© Dr Upma A Sharma
Written July 29, 2024
("Before the Door", 2023, original encaustic)
I know I’m going to die
Sooner of later Death comes for us all
Like an old best friend
Who was always patiently waiting.
But I also know from personal experience
That he comes only at the perfect time
Despite what we may think.
Death has already come for many
Family and friends and dear pets
I have known and loved
So I do know what it looks like
At least from my perspective
As an outside observer and sometime flirt
But I don’t know what it’s actually like.
And from what I’ve seen
I don’t think I ever will know,
Because you know,
When you’re dead, you’re dead,
And even if there is an immortal soul
It doesn’t die, so it doesn’t know death either!
What we do know, either way, is Life.
We know it because we are it.
We see it all around us, we feel it in us.
We see it come and go, Death again,
But we see it, and feel it, continue,
Morphing continuously in ever changing
Creative adaptation.
That’s the big picture we’re just a part of.
One day I know I, and all I love, will be gone.
There is trepidation as that day approaches
Of course, but there is solace too
Knowing it is both inevitable and irrelevant
Since I won’t actually be here for that day
At least for its end.
What I do have is this day, simply this.
(1/28/26)
The dark night did his fearfulness arouse,
While flashing-booming-crackling filled the air.
This night of trepidation fills the house;
breath shortened running fingers through his hair.
Dark fear descends the mountain with a scream,
like flames from mouths of dragons, fear burns deep.
He cannot rest, perchance he moves to dream.
There is no sanctuary within sleep.
With every fear that populates his heart,
his head is buried ‘neath the pillow soft.
The fear that stalks his soul will not depart.
“Perhaps this is the last time.” Then he coughed.
Brief reassurance panics, then soon flees.
All hopes and dreams will not his life appease.
"A coward dies a thousand times before his death, but the valiant taste of death but once. It seems to me most strange that men should fear, seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come." ? (Julius Caesar) William Shakespeare
Out of the burrows and hedges and dreys
Heads began bobbing and eyes were agaze.
Rumours were twittered and grunted and squealed:
‘The combine is coming to harvest the field!’
The moles and the voles and the rabbits and hares
All hurried and scurried and scattered in pairs.
The hedgehogs and ladybirds, pheasants and shrews
Did all that they could to distribute the news.
Then all made a dash for old wise badger’s sett;
The only safe refuge in face of the threat.
There, in the deep hollow they felt the vibration
They shivered and shuddered in great trepidation.
The thrumming and thundering monster machine
Soon passed overhead... and then all was serene.
And out of the hollow came heads, tails and paws
Another day safe from the harvester’s jaws!
Most recently entered into 'Your Best Rhyme Poem That Is Trophy Worthy Contest 3 Poetry Contest' sponsored by Tania Kitchin - 05.10.19
I chose this poem because not only is it one of my personal favourites, but to this day, I've no idea where all these little creatures came from! Written early on in my poetic endeavours, it made me appreciate fully the amazing powers of the imagination!
'A rattling rhyme contest' sponsored by Nina Parmenter
12/08/18
04/12/18
'I cannot believe I wrote that Poetry contest' : sponsored by Nina Parmenter
Your Choice,Any Form,Any Theme Poetry Contest : sponsored by Brian Strand
Since industrialization there’s been agitation frustration palpitation trepidation vociferation
And unequivocal asseveration in favour of our planet’s welfare glorification and protection
Premeditated or not, the results on the planet are nothing short of brutalization and martyrization
Damage is irreversible and orchestrated with acceleration towards matricide and genocide no question
Axiomatic domination exploitation contamination violation decimation decapitation
Take their toll from appropriation to deforestation, amputating earth’s lungs without arbitration
Patronizing politicians greedy for ovations ignore aggravation assassination brutification asphyxiation
Not fooling anyone with altruistic motives of lavishing ones with undue admiration and accreditation
We’re beyond allegations and accusations of criminal irresponsible desensitization and legitimation
Way beyond denials repudiation vacillation and claiming a convocation for immediate restoration
The truth is we’re an actualized and glorified civilization cohabitating with vegetation and crustacean
We claim to have more intelligence yet all we show is irreverence greed alienation and agglomeration
The truth is the damage humans have created in the last hundred years amounts to irreparable laceration
Optimists say it’s not too late to opt for self-preservation with inspiration adaptation and indoctrination…
AP: 1st place 2022
Submitted on March 26, 2018 for contest TRIPLE A CHALLENGE sponsored by ROBERT HAIGH - RANKED 8TH
Like a baby taking his first steps
Those tentative ones
You walked in, delved into depths
Unaware of the hurt, the hidden scars
Placing your heart on the line,
With no fear, what joy or sadness lay ahead
My wings,
The forgetful ones, the ones who forgot
What it felt like to fly, you nurtured them,
Like liniment
In your own time, never rushed
As if it was your mission in life
To ease the pain, deep within
With love,
Moments of not saying a word,
Just being there,
Listening
Wiping the tears away, if they would trickle down
Like liniment
In your own time, never rushed
As if it was your mission in life
To ease the pain, deep within
No trepidation
Those forgetful wings
They soar, with your love
Like liniment
We did it in our own time…
Contest: For The Sake Of Free Verse
4th Place