Long Unease Poems
Long Unease Poems. Below are the most popular long Unease by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unease poems by poem length and keyword.
How do I thee .let me give you praise
How do I love thee,for your winsome ways;
In these eyes still my bride ,and still
Your wedding ring,I wear with pride;
These many years of marriage cheer
Two hearts as one,with love held dear;
Each others secrets to confide,
Needs and desires to never hide;
Tribulations together bear
Witness,these love-lines we share;
How do you love me,this poem will chart
The unease we notice,if apart;
How do you love me,no words can convey
Your touch,your kiss,your gaze,thrill me each day.
A faithful love,will stay unique,leaning,
Mutually we ,in submission seek.
There were spirits causing physical and psychic torment.
They were in their surroundings, like moisture were in the breeze
There was a man, with legions of demons. Graves were his tents.
Each moment of his life was like flesh with thorns of unease.
They seized him in his crocodile hold. He could not escape.
Tearing his body and hurting himself had become fun.
In the image of God, he was made. But, he lost his shape.
To protect him from his self-hatred, there was no human
Love, like that of a mother's for her child, sprang from Jesus.
His power over good and evil rose like a command.
Come out, Jesus said. Within, the man faced a grave morass.
They had to obey. They knew if they refused, they'd be damned.
Chains of confines were broken, and the demonic felt free.
Jesus sent him home to tell them of the divine decree.
That Distant Space
Shadows slide, silent, across the cold church floor
As pallid wraiths form in the fast fading breeze
Where no human wanders that way anymore.
And come to rest by the broken vestry door
To meet in far off realms beyond our short lease
In that abandoned place we walked before.
A new moon rises unseen above the trees,
Grey ghosts return on this night of dark unease
And far from busy life’s bright domains explore
By hidden, shaded paths that no human sees
Where shapeless souls their earthly forms restore
And at All Hallow’s Eve meet in dark rapport
In that distant space where the dead convene,
To speak apart before daylight intervenes.
Barry Stebbings
Oct 2024
My tongue, a beast that bites me first.
I wanna shut it down,
never to speak again.
My voice, a wild river,
Yet keeps flooding, careless of consequence.
My lips, in a race,
while everyone hopes—
“Would they ever learn silence?”
My brain, too messy,
Spills out without a thought.
All cures, I’ve tried—
Nothing worked.
The words kept flying—
Some hurt. Some haunt. Some hang in the air.
Some make them shift, some make them stare.
Some push away… each one a weight I carry alone.
I’ve grown. I’m “mature.”
Yet I hate what some people adore.
I wish to sit in solitude,
even when the room hums with chaos.
But I fail,
Once I speak,
I drown in the noise.
I regret, I feel guilty,
But there's no button to erase.
I never speak wrong or false,
Just the words,
that shift in meaning, lost in translation.
The voice, once echoed,
makes those who care, who love,
wish they’d never known me.
A disappointment on their face—
Wishing they could rewind just one moment back.
They want me to change,
Not go wild, not lose control and be mad.
Not shout, not blurt, not make myself known.
I am an embarrassment,
a mistake they wish had stayed silent.
Love on condition,
weirdly care.
teaching lessons through guilt and unease.
Yet I forget, the very next moment,
and I can’t tell.
Extroversy - my storm,
Introversy - a dream I never reach.
As the morning breaks, in a summer day
a bare foot boy, in blue denim overalls,
red and white striped tee-shirt, and straw hat,
rolls up his pantlegs up to his knees, and stands
on the narrow river's white quay.
Alongside the tall rustling sedge,
where the water is cool, busy meadow bees hum,
annoy as he holds his long cane pole.
A quandary. Anxious, made him quiver, takes a step,
Then two, then three, against the rustling sedge.
Outraged, he bids, go away you, with sully fire.
Stricken by slanderous words from out of his mouth;
Suddenly replaced with silence and unease.
Penance for your soul to be cleansed.
The tears he shed, a boy of quaint poise,
Burdened with the weight of such sin.
Like perfume oozes through air,
Hearing his murmuring pitiful word, Sorry.
To him was the worth of not gold, but platinum.
3/1/2021
Mind Your P's And Q's Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Michelle Faulkner
Penance Poise Perfume Platinum
Quay Quiver Quandary Quaint
YELLOW
Called him yellow?
He must be an Albino!
The point aimed at is this fellow
But the yellow must always mellow
Acting the Shakespearian Othello.
No true friends in the ghetto
Except you are hood and get-on.
Adorned naturally with a color enticing unease,
Jaundice, his name, and "Alfin" joined to his,
Names that causes 'All Eyes On Me'
Wondered what life would be
If he had been a black coffee
L. Custance ask: who are the truly bothersome blokes?
Not the one, the butt of some jokes
But the one his exemplary life chokes
And ends well better than his folks
To remove this dandruff from this shoddy native land
Stand on his watch, he'd be a better brand
This prose, he knew and incubated;
THIS ON-THE-SPOT POETRY he marinated
Is to accomplish many task,
Ask Ken L. Custance, for instance
Who inspired this lofty lines,
Created and embellished by our great minds.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © 10th March, 2017.
A parade of verdant, floating fields
appear within a clouded dream
idyllic islands in the sky
a tranquil vision, peaceful sigh
of heavenly serenity.
Yet now, the scene is set adrift
by ominous and darkened twists
of blackened branches
that weave and weave
they suffocate and bring unease
within this solemn surreal sight
of stricken trees that die at night.
Now all around these floating fields
sad, lonesome cattle graze
they graze and graze
in an endless maze
how strange and sullen are their ways
the mind is in a perpetual haze.
A muted sky surrounds
with drifts amidst the clouds above
and still below, more clouds abound
within this realm, both high and low
dark solos haunt i
they ever wail and mark the spot
where dreams await their end, their lot
by what is not, by what is not.
What causes drama about dark
that sneaks right in, puts out the spark
of confidence- to then embark
the path of fear, alone and stark?
What light there is, the shadows bend-
morph into scenes we apprehend;
disguised, unknown as our eyes send
those stark outlines we can't defend.
Like silhouettes of tall, bent trees
which come alive with every breeze;
their swaying arms transmit unease-
as darkness helps them mock and tease.
The dark invites a dismal mood
when eyes present a vision skewed.
Tween mind and senses there's a feud-
of what is real and what is viewed.
The dream stays with her when she wakes
from a contented sleep,
the eye of new day promises~
love and joy with laughter anew,
like flowers blooming in roadside
gardens across the bridge
to where she longs to be
away from darkness that shadows
and hides her dream of soaring
above the firmament,
above the elements,
above the hopelessness that keeps
her snared like an old woman
biding until the curtain drops
to hide the stage and stop
her dream within a dream~
yesterday was full of lessons,
tomorrow is a vague unease
of unknown drama coming near,
today it is enough to wake
from a contended sleep
and see the eye of promise,
and flowers blooming in roadside
gardens across the bridge
to where she longs to be.
In my foolish young adult years,
three good men came along,
but their eyes brimmed with tears.
God must of sent them,
offering me love's redemption.
Not realizing they were gifts to me,
like mystic trains sent away to
wend on another journey.
The summer moon's love bathes me
in her eternal silvered glow,
upon my bed dreaming of happiness
I let go.
I do long for youth again,
to say I'm sorry for wounding them.
Was I rejecting love or myself,
placing their hearts on a shelf.
Forgive me, please,
as I age with unease.
Three good men with souls of gold,
I hope with wives who cherish them
as they grow old. ~