Long Uncommitted Poems
Long Uncommitted Poems. Below are the most popular long Uncommitted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Uncommitted poems by poem length and keyword.
'Breaking the Trauma Bond'
Do you still like me?
Let me count the ways.
The tired old familiar abuse,
The ugly scowl,
The “get outta here’s!”
“Don’t give me that kind of sh..t!!”
Vile venom heaped upon an unwary lover.
I’ve been sucker punched, again.
Fallen for the antics of yet another
Unwilling, unable, unstable, and uncommitted to anything
Other than his own pain and confusion.
Oh, good!
Someone NEW to hate!
I know what comes next.
The gifts I have given
Treasures I’ve shared,
Regard, respect, admiration, adoration and affection
Willingly offered
And received,
Crudely discarded.
Run through the disposal
Put out with the garbage
Neatly packed and
Hauled off to storage.
Archived with
All the other
Past violations,
Slanders and
Cruel rebuffs.
My body is crushed.
My spine is mangled.
My nerves are seared.
“I don’t NEED any more PAIN!”
I wail
Mentally shuffling through
Well-worn files of
Past encounters.
Rage rises,
The Ogre is demonized.
Humiliated and dis-graced
Tears fall from fresh wounds.
I take refuge
In dreams resplendent
Of laughter, pleasure
Joy and enjoyment
Where wishes of the wisher are fulfilled,
Where food and delight are found.
Fueling fond fantasies of nobility of character,
Decency and courage
An Equal.
Bitter tears cease,
Fury finally fades.
And yet curiously,
The guilt remains.
I choke on the olive branch of forgiveness,
Again.
It’s 6:15pm. Peter, Anna, Sophy and I are studying in the common room of our suite.
“We need to get serious,” Peter whispered, but there was no subject in the declaration, so I was left confused and uncommitted, “about getting serious,” he clarified.
“I’m not sure I can get serious about a guy who doesn’t separate whites and darks in the laundry,” I say, gently.
“No,” he said, shaking his head in brief vibration, “we need to get serious about DINNER.”
“Oh!” I said, maybe a little too relieved.
“Ha!” He chortled, “YOU overthink everything!” He said, nodding his head up and down to prove it was true. “And speaking of laundry,” he continued, seeing me start to open my mouth, “the other night YOU asked me if your pastel purple panties should go with the whites or darks - so I must be an EXPERT!”
I laughed at the idea of his laundry expertise, sailing in from out of the purple like that, it was haywire. “Well,” I said, becoming introspective, “I didn’t know you’d hold onto that question like a grudge,” I said, in quiet, wounded accusation, “from now ON, maybe you should stay as far away from my panties as possible.”
“What are you two grousing about NOW?” Anna asked, looking up from her computer. “You guys are like an old married couple.”
“True THAT.” Sophie said, like a judge right before knocking her gavel to finalize a ruling.
“We weren’t arguing!” I said, looking around confusedly. I looked at Peter, who was smiling broadly, “Were we?”
“Nope,” he said, wrapping his arm around me in a bearhug, “we were flirting.”
It's easy to see
It's more important to be
pro-life
than pro-choice
if one must prefer to choose
to win or lose
robust healthy life.
Are you pro-life
or pro-choice?
Both.
Pro-choosing resilient EarthTribe life
for everyone.
Do not confuse pro-choice
with pro-death,
Or pro-life
with anti-integrity unhealthy choice.
If pro-LifeChoice
emerges on our Winner's Table,
then the list of what we are democratically for
becomes a health agenda
of resonant life fully lived
with self and other compassion.
And all the diversely negative anti-life non-choices begin,
for me,
with anti-life risks of nuclear holocaust,
anti-climate risks to resilient health,
anti-life automated commodified industrial ballistics
designed to kill
as rapidly
and vapidly
as irresponsibly possible.
This list of patriarchally-driven abortions of healthy choice
against pro-life matriarchal healing humanity
goes on and on most violently
then abusively
then neglectfully
then unconsciously
uncommitted to never aborting LifeChoice
democratic advocacy
respect
dignity
passion
enchantment
wonder
love
sacred integrity.
Beneath a sky of uncommitted rain,
I walk through streets where windows hold no names;
the city flickers like a dying vein
inside the wrist of midnight’s restless frame.
The moon hangs loose, a lantern without shore,
adrift upon the blackened tide of doubt;
each star appears a nail in Heaven’s door,
yet none can tell what waits beyond or out.
I am a suitcase left on some old train,
tagged by forgotten hands and foreign dust;
the years pass through me softly like cold rain
through roofs abandoned long ago to rust.
Sometimes existence feels a borrowed coat
stitched from the shadows of uncertain seams;
we button up our fragile human throat
and speak in currencies of borrowed dreams.
The mind becomes a forest after fire,
charcoal branches sketching broken prayer;
while somewhere underneath the buried mire,
small roots of meaning twist through ruined air.
And still we rise.
Like ships with cracked compasses glowing,
we cross the fog because the heart keeps rowing.
confussion and frustration
made the task a chore
it favored longety which
at first evaluation
of the work had been ignored
in referance to the group
we were straong and committed
but in labor
we were divided
and uncommitted.
I felt cheap and used
like a man who wished
more attention from his
lover.
I must sort the collected
bunch
to then label and
make inventory
according to fiber strenght
and stone value
monodisperse silca
and kenaf ramie
Corundum Degelman i
curses these stones
a plie high to the ceiling.
Gneiss Schulte I curse
these men that labor
me in such reeling
Titanium Zirconium
that I must crush the valueless stones
and sort those of vsalue
must i chore
that they are evasive and lazy
that I must labor alone
We turned the pages of our lives, from the beginning
I wonder why I had to live with those humiliations again
Yet his constant voice urging me to continue the narration
Pretending that he was detrimental
To narrate it to someone uncommitted
Those pains were a minute ago
For validation as worthy, perhaps
Yet I was soiling and dishonouring my name to someone who never cared
So he left, without comforting me
Neither narrating his story
I had to heal from the monster in me
With those delicate parts yet so golden,
So I sang my favourite songs to heal again
This time, the lesson was profoundly engraved.
WHAT IS LOVE--
What is love, you inspire me by in site;
I love the way you call, cuddle and sigh;
Invading my mind day and through the night;
Sexual passionate love eros high;
O' playful uncommitted ludus moon?
A practical pragna, along with agape;
Love sun heats the gaping peaches to bloom;
As summer love is liken canton crepe;
Love is flight of a bird in mid air preys;
I love your eyelashes and attitude;
Thinking of your big smile fills my days;
My love for you is the phillia nude;
O' now I must pray with an awesome heart;
This what love is together or apart;
3/10/19
Placed 2nd place in Contest
What Is Love Poetry Contest
Enter Contest
Sonnet poetry form only
Sponsored by: Silent One
The night was young, ecosystem calm
Thoughts flooding my mind, I got drowned in them
Pin fall silence, I could hear my blood flow
On the spur of the moment came misdirection
Entered she, soaked in tears
Her eyes inflamed; larynx they were
Tears still cascading down her countenance
She wept profusely
She needed a shoulder to lean on, mine was uncommitted
I snuggled her to at least give her solace
Compassion was requisite
It cost nothing, so I offered her
Our proximity; not far from contact
Changed things drastically
Her warm tears gushed down my chest
Melting my heart, the throbbing irregular
Her light skin so enticing, pleasing to the touch
My hands got the pleasure
Racing all over her like a hasty warthog escaping death
Caged, I couldn’t escape the enticement and so…
Suppose the Enemy invades your town.
No cellphones, then: no Instagram,
no Rachel Maddow, there to break it down.
The only thing to do, if in a jam,
if lacking WhatsApp or Securicam,
is send a runner out, to warn your friends.
They’ll thank you warmly, when the danger ends.
The menace of the moment? Marathon
was under siege by eastern hordes (that’s Persian).
Victorious here, they’d soon descend upon
immortal Athens. Such a vile incursion
could not be countenanced. The better version
was beating the invader where he stood.
“Our name would live for ever, if we could!”
In one respect, the West outstrips the East.
(You think me xenophobic? Hear me out!)
To us, a king, a noble or a priest
is merely one of us: though he may shout,
he’s nothing special, has no inbuilt clout.
We don’t like tyrants. If we make a plan,
we all invest in it, as best we can.
The eastern mind, you’ll find, incurs more losses
because the mass of people, uncommitted,
does what it’s told by oligarchs and bosses.
The social ranks, compliant but not knitted,
will not withstand the enemy. They’re pitted
against free men. The Persians, soon depleted,
threw down their spears, were easily defeated.
But Athens needs to know what happened here.
The mother-culture needs our expertise:
no hoarding, boarding, fractiousness or fear.
We need a man to put our friends at ease:
who should we send? Of course! Pheidippides!
Amigo, you’re our runner: it’s you who’s
entrusted with the bearing of the news.
How many miles to Athens? Twenty-six!
Pheidippides would do it at a run.
This wasn’t boring, petty politics:
the threat is dead – democracy has won!
He disappeared into the setting sun.
The allies were apprised of Marathon’s pride:
Pheidippides, job done, exhausted, … died!
In the work of the Supreme God,
The Lord calls not the slothful and indolent…
…the proud and arrogant, the selfish and covetous…
…the faithless and doubting, the uncommitted and unfaithful…
…the disobedient and stubborn…
Oh, woe unto me: disqualified am I already!
In the mission field of the Sovereign Creator,
The Master welcomes those who see themselves…
…as nothing without the Saviour’s grace…
…as undeserving because of sinfulness…
…as unworthy, yet made precious by Christ’s love…
Oh, may God have mercy on me, as I find myself undeserving!
In the ministry of the King of kings,
The Almighty blesses those whom…
…He has called by His foreknowledge…
…He has empowered with His strength
…He has equipped along His instructions…
Oh, here am I grateful to the Lord for His compassion
For His goodness that enables* me…
Yes, I praise Him Who knows me fully well.
*1Timothy 1:12 And I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who hath enabled me, for that he counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry.
July 8, 2019