Long Undignified Poems
Long Undignified Poems. Below are the most popular long Undignified by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Undignified poems by poem length and keyword.
I will dance before You, O Lord,
Not with the steps of men,
But with the fire of the Spirit burning in my bones.
I will move without rhythm,
I will leap without pattern,
For my praise is not for show
It is for You alone, my God and King.
I will dance as one set free,
As one who remembers the pit You drew me from.
I will spin like the wind,
My limbs a living offering upon Your altar.
Let the watchers mock
Let the proud turn their gaze away.
I shall become even more undignified than this,
If only to delight Your heart, O Lord.
You are worthy of my praise, O Lord
I will dance in pain and in peace,
In sorrow and in song,
For only you remain faithful in all seasons.
My feet shall testify,
My hands shall proclaim,
That the Lord is good and His mercy endures forever.
Clothe me in Your grace like a garment, O Lord
Let Your joy anoint me like fresh oil.
And if my strength should falter,
Still I will praise You with all I have left.
Blessed be the Lord, who rejoices in the praise of his people
Let my dance be incense before Your throne,
And may Your presence remain with me
Now and forevermore.
Amen.
Wandering along the winding trail I watch as hawks play
ducking and diving, swooping and tumbling and climbing
up again, making a magnificent display backed by their
shrill cries to each other
Riding the thermals
climbing up in unison
wild spirits air bound
They have three fledglings to rear, so back to hunting
they go, sharp eyes spotting the rustle in the undergrowth
wings folded they plunge down like raining bullets
striking hard they carry it back to the nest to feed the chicks
Three fluffy small chicks
baby plumage now changing
they look so scruffy
Now fully feathered they flap and stretch their wings
then first one takes to wing finding it hard to land
it misses its mark a few times, at last alighting
undignified on a branch
New generation
one day they too will have chicks
and so the cycle goes
You’ve felt so ashamed
So unjustified
It pains to explain
And that’s why you lie
Everyday it’s a battle
That no one can see
Your glass looks half full
But is nearly empty
You come up short
Letting others down
The tasks you abort
Litter the ground
The critique that you hear
Is multiplied by ten
Yet falls on deaf ears
Til you hear it again
The boredom is real
Though, so much to do
The onion, you peel
Has you constantly blue
Too much to take in
Whether bad or good
It’s hard to keep friends
When, misunderstood
You feel undeserving
You’re undignified
The truth is unnerving
And that’s why you lie
Come Father, become human and kind...
sit at my blessed and abundant table,
and have a dialogue with me!
Many questions assumed for myself:
like uncotrollable rivers flooding their banks...
pitifully susceptible to oblivion;
a disaster so real and not too stealthy...
come Father,suspend time!
Indisputible are Your commandments
that make the sinners tremble
and the mighty complain and ramble;
unchangeable are Your moral demands,
and the devouts heed them with reverence...
to diffuse them without diffidence!
Come Father,engorge this eager spirit...
descend to clear up contradictory opinions,
words dictated by the die-hard and undignified;
this is not a conception or a dilemma,
but an enormous and contemptuous enigma
engraved on the souls that engage in snarling tactics
to ensconce, not to enrapture what is good...
and in doing so they captivate people in sin!
I declare my faithfulness with words that prolifate
and have wonder and inspiration...
true words that express a genuine faith;
I am not prognostic...I rely on devine intervention,
and shun what lacks in importance...
not debasing what is sacred to satisfy their impertinence!
Come Father, have this promenade...
let's talk about their impervious minds
that collide with truth with impetuous haste;
come father, let's make them perfect and pious...
give them a plausible momentum of grace,
and make them victorious and vindicated!
Burning bodies, staring eyes.
Smoking chimneys, human cries.
Gas chambers for Jews to die.
Frozen corpses piled up high.
Electric wires inflicting pain.
Mass starvation, inhumane.
Old aged people, mental cases
Skin and bone with human faces.
Amputations, detrimental.
Unethical, experimental.
Too weak to stand, debilitated.
Left to die, emaciated.
Open graves deceased or not
Decomposing humans left to rot.
Undignified but freedoms there.
The stench of death was everywhere
Dentists practicing extractions
Gold fillings became distractions.
Unfed, unclothed, discrimination.
The master plan, extermination.
Eradication of a race.
Genocide, mankinds disgrace.
The Nazi party pursued their aim.
As the world averted eyes in shame.
10 / 15 / 2016.
I have withdrawn from grim and gloomy feelings.
I have no time for wistful faces that plague the day
with melancholy conversation and life-sucking sadness.
The drama too much to digest and too trivial to express.
The shroud of depression envelopes the soul
spiraling it toward the depths of psychosis.
Discard delusions of undignified and unfounded discontent.
Instead, I seek cheerful gladness and joyful vibes.
I invest my time with gregarious and social aspects
of amiable discourse and exuberant life-serving happiness.
The manzai of life situations is peculiar funniness.
The revealing mirthful banter opens the psyche
whirling it toward heights of responsible normalcy.
Embrace each moment as though it is the last – it could be.
The shadows move in dreams of thought.
The days of when have now been sought.
The answers came not even taught.
As we lost the war we never fought.
With hearts of tattered shreds in doubt.
The pain and rain insane we shout.
In silent empty depths we tout.
Beliefs we know nothing about.
Somewhere along the way.
Justified undignified had it's say.
The beginning came, ya, what may.
It all ended up decided that day.
And now the clouded glow.
Emulates what we think we know.
Influences the director's show.
As the audience goes with the flow.
Repeat and rinse and repeat and rinse.
But dormant grass has grown ever since.
The meaning in my words I now mince.
As I wait for someone to convince.
An unfinished letter drenched in blood,
the youngest of soldiers dropping
the sweaty pen from his dangling hand;
and while his vision blurs, his thoughts are escaping...
Too young to die in a desert with its sun scorching,
too soon to meet an unfair and horrifying death;
stealing all the laughter life reserved for the kindest,
not giving him another chance to live what he was anxiously planning!
Don't bury him into an undignified soil only visited by spiders,
on this ground nothing grows, but palm trees that soothe the travelers;
over this arid land, hot winds ravage the sand dunes, where he often cheated death:
in a cemetery, undeneath the shade of a pine tree, his body must be buried and rest!
Too young to die, not to ever envision the delights of the future,
or to plan his tomorrow without the horrendous battles that intensify his fear;
too young too die for a freedom that others are willing to give up:
to be subdued by the oppressor, who defiantly will drink from the fullest cup!
Screams for help aren't heard, but muffled by the whirring wind;
and should he die alone, not grasping his buddy's tight hand:
what message can he leave for his family...not knowing his last wish?
Dust hastily advances to close his dying eyes and end his weak breath...
Too young to die, and not hear someone's prayer,
to comfort his lonely heart with heavenly words spoken by angels;
and rising up his mortally-wounded head, he can hear a choir:
coming from a place calmer than a night' sky...look! The dying soldier smiles!
Entered in Deborah's Guzzi contest, " War...what is it good for? "
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
The Intrepid
Tall Savannah grass, he had to drive on its only road it was narrow
had no pavement, he rode his scooter could see the ears of big cats
listening.
It was noon, the lions didn’t like the smell emitting from his scooter,
animals only eat when hungry.
He stopped switching off the motor he wanted to be attacked by a lion,
be eaten alive he thought life would give meaning to his futile life.
The silence was total heard insects crossing the road sound like a regiment
on war foot.
Now or never, walked into the tall grass remembered lines like
“I’m the master of my destiny.”
What rot! He knows nothing about the future.
The savannah was an oat field, a farmer shouted scared the lions away.
Sometimes we will be eaten by the worms in the soil
that is undignified.
Propriety
belongs to a
society
as dignity
sings my song strong
individuality
Both benign
characteristics
earned right through
win/win wellness statistics
comparing
individualistic
flawed integrity
of Othering patristics.
Improperly colonizing
militarized monoculturing
choosing bitter
unbetter capitalizing
A worn down path
of ZeroSum assumptionizing
improper wealth baptizing baths
of undignified conclusions
unholy rising
Directed by a demonic god
weak and/or promiscuous
slatternly sinful goddesses
Eating Earth's own children
when Her Consort's favorite book
calls for religious recipe looks
of meaty mighty
sacrificial ingredients, cooked
For at least comparatively improper
social climate change
and oppositionally degenerative
personal political
lack of win/win gain
Integral knowledge
of which comes first,
propriety of worshipping Earth's
sacred ecosystemic birth
or healthing dignity
of individual bursts
into enlightening constellations
and empowering corporations
and health wealthing cooperations
for polyculturing climax peace,
resonant rebirth.
Earth health and safety
already pre-supposes sensory
dignified Mother propriety
v patriarchally improper memory
of a nationalistic society
rather bicamerally unbalancing
would-be patriots
of universally viral health integrity
Of and for healing
win/lose ZeroSum fractured stealing
from win/win Futures holistic
not not ZeroZone revealing
appropriately integrative
double negative
holy holistic co-relatives
of individuals socially sensitive
to EarthJust dignity reweaving
propriety redeeming
resonance restoring
Compassion's mind-invested work
and heart-infested
operatic passion play
singing through each reworked day
and nights of silent
holy
misty stay.