Long Unwarranted Poems
Long Unwarranted Poems. Below are the most popular long Unwarranted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unwarranted poems by poem length and keyword.
Arising in softest sapphire,
Shimmery as the night,
Inviting silence to release her,
Tears flowing, thick and sincere,
Breaking through melancholy,
Trembling with dark dread,
Erasing all the soul’s vivacity –
Erasing the existence of her memories.
Appearing in somber ashen,
Overcast by doubts – catastrophe,
Shrinking beneath seas of dejection,
Unwarranted shadows,
Casting careless heartaches,
Destined to fail – the misery so real,
Unwelcome as the tears, trailing,
Like dew, soft and soothing,
Pulsating through the veins who remember…
Ascending in the lost hues,
Dusky death, her faded words so wrong,
Like a sad, sad song…
Lingering on the soul, deaf
To the colors of hope, the vibrant
Charms of cheery gold and bubbly rose,
Healing the heart, risking all the beautiful
For the moments when pleasant feelings
Fall, like rain – softly blessing away all fear,
Washing away the pain with a breath,
Gasping for the moments before death,
Stole the laughter from the dreams,
The sensitivity from the subtle memories.
Climbing the moments before grief
Struck the soul with its night,
Reminding that autumn, yes, the fall…
She always comes to call,
Leaving only the naked branches,
The whispers of wind, caressing the still
Cool blessings, tenderly
Like a flowing grace, abiding
Pouring out her promises of life
Even after the graveside service has drained,
All the beautiful from the colors,
Colors of grief, meant to bring a heart peace.
Yes, these colors of grief,
They’ll always abide to relieve,
Comforting the souls who can see past –
The loss, into the promise of heaven eternal.
Listen to the aching prayers, the promise is there,
Alive in the memories, in the gentleness,
Where a still reflection of God’s breathless harmony –
Kisses away every anxiety,
Reassures and consoles, lightens the heaviest loads,
With the promise of a home with Him in heaven above,
A home made of His pure, sweet love!
"A man can fail many times, but he isn't a failure until he begins to blame somebody else." ~~ John Burroughs ~~
To Blame another, I avoid truths about myself.
So, should I leave my accusations on the shelf?
Do my hurt feelings, I just allow to smother?
I avoid truths about myself, to blame another.
One must rise above the waves of ire,
And rekindle within a righteous fire.
It’s a rule of generosity and fairness applies.
Above the waves of ire, one must rise,
Many whispers of guilt, they fill the air,
There’s no solace found in a world so unfair.
Much trust and faith there must be rebuilt.
They fill the air, many whispers of guilt.
In shadows dark where fingers point with blame.
Each innocent victim has a reputation to reclaim.
It’s on the road to forgiveness we must embark,
Where fingers point with blame, in shadows dark.
In this phase of blame, as hearts turn cold,
A web of assertions cruel and bold.
So, the accused can suffer unwarranted shame.
As hearts turn cold in this phase of blame.
Where truth and justice are, its hard to find
Echoing through chambers of the mind
Where innuendo can certainly mar
It’s hard to find where truth and justice are.
To break away from this cycle of decree,
In the midst of this tempestuous sea,
Exercise diplomacy and come what may,
From this cycle of decree, to break away.
It’s love that your character will frame.
For blame is but a fleeting hollow game.
Forgiveness will fit you like a glove,
That your character will frame. It’s love.
Tainted Blood
They lost me because I loved them enough to let them go, If you love something, set it free; if it returns, it’s yours. Or perhaps they wanted to have their cake and eat it too.
As poets, we often shy away from lines like these, Odium-filled phrases that don’t necessarily mean failure. A failed relationship doesn’t imply personal failure, But rather a problem—either created by us or our partner.
Let’s list the problems:
Lack of capital
Lack of patience
A weak man seeking rescue from a strong woman
And the list goes on, each issue a thorn in the heart. The pain fades after the first heartbreak, Yet trust and love become elusive.
I knew I would lose them—the scent of tainted blood wafted from their pores as they drew near. So, I stopped the kisses, the intimacy, and then came the unwarranted jealousy, the emotional hurt of rejection.
We see them for what they are, and sometimes, that’s enough to set us free.
Trees In Spring
Beneath the trees, gazing up, I see
Branches reaching skyward, sprouting leaves,
Filtering rays through the canopy
That cause my eyes to blink breathlessly
From the mosaic, prism colour scheme.
The scenic vista is dynamic
And pleasing to absorb spring’s hypnotics.
These vascular plants drink nourishment
And utilize the sun’s energy
In the process of photosynthesis.
The reality of perception’s direction
Persuades self-effacing resignation
From biased human disposition
With artistic interpretation.
“I pray nature forgives my trespassing!”
Trees in spring of natural beauty
Whose subliminal message I can’t dismiss.
“Human intrusion has been devastating!”
Unwarranted greed condones desecrating
Tangible living poetry in motion.
No sooner than we set foot within said domicile
attestation to so called gentleman’s’ agreement with guile
initially infrequently, but incessantly as time elapsed Isle
never forget (nor will spouse forgive) with rancor and rile
ceaselessly besieging, bruiting bare-knuckle skirmishes
for us to remove ourselves and personal belonging with vile
lent vitriolic wrath from the day we decamped
within hoity -toity Mainline –
our matted unwelcome would endure for quite a white.
* I * S * I * N * G
With hindsight and accumulative less cloudy fifty shades of gray,
an irrevocable clear er voyance viz summoning forth would lay
an irreconcilable rift (rivaling the Mariana), and constant nay
saying presaged an emotional price to pay
whereat we deterred sale of vintage crystal balls – our stay
purported prevented sale of precious heirlooms – oye vay
in tandem to estate sale divvied up, cuz we whar in the way.
* I * S * I * N * G
Analogous to Little Red Riding Hood, we could not see
blitzkrieg, cannonading, incessant strafe carpet bombing re:
bloody onslaught from the generation of elder vipers que
endured feeling trapped by memorabilia meant nothing to me
* I * S * I * N * G
Warfare found us hunkering down within said tract housing unit,
a fusillade fired off re: porting volleys of character assassination
bombarded this unfortunate civilian clearly implicated to whit
for being a non jewish schlemiel inducing endless economic
denigrating calumniations – fulminating against this “twit”
we decried wicked, vicious, unwarranted abuse would not quit
with no defense against slings and arrows, a plague round
of ceaseless, ferocious, and insidious pilloried that pit
pendulous injustices for each of our **** (emphatic branding
per diem me own scrawny gluteus maximus to git
the hell out – eventually hiring a lawyer with eviction edict!
Form:
Six months after my Mother decided to move
out of the house, which only she and I shared.
Had not surprisingly been swept on a messy path
during preceding time.
In nondescript depot, Northern suburbs of Adelaide
We met while waiting on stationary city bound bus
I was 16, you 14, shared only gender and addiction
Your two finger signal to me, initial encouragement
Together we stepped out, sat down with ease
A pocket produced the cigarette you requested
Yet to realise your soon apparent clairvoyance
As my Angel, our meeting was ardour suspended
With nonchalance of street-wise, I shrugged a reply
"Just heading to the City, - see what's going on"
You ascertained vague expression between lines
Guaged I had nowhere prescribed to belong
Insistence that I come to your house unwarranted
I swallowed order with gratitude, steaming broth's bowl
Shock shot lame my stiff stance, flowing warmth translated
Riding the bus beside a friend, unlikely dream unfolded
A typical teenager, you lived with your family, to become
My family for the next four months, a premature adult's reprieve
Your three sisters, one brother equalled four full bedrooms
Her pure generosity allowed your Mum to willingly shelter me
Had my cashless, city bound track occurred, I shudder
to guess at possible horror hapless trajectory offered
Shahanna, the miracle of our co inciding invited my rescue
A chance for childhood dependance given to the discarded
Indebted to Shahanna's proximity, God's will
I am being told to let go
By almost everyone I know
Release, let it out, let it be
Plunge into passivity
While I howl to bitter beauty
My bruises bloom a thorny tree
Guarding roses of agony
My pain is mine, it belongs to me
This torment is my blood, it breathes
with every breath, it beats with my heartbeats
Within my tears, it weeps
It shrieks, uncoiled, beneath my skin
Where the sin of suffering begins
It is my fertile fury, my hellish choir
My savage soul, my cathartic fire
It is large and lush and livid
Conquering and vivid
It is too precious, too valuable, to trade away or wallow
in trinkets, or flimsy platitudes, or empty cliches, or hollow
promises of unfulfilling fortresses to follow
Their learned words I dare spurn
For to recover, I must burn
So I will keep this, for I know its worth,
even if their unsolicited, unwarranted, intrusive,
Questioning and questionable, inconclusive
Unadvised advisors do not grant it girth
It is in my pain I find
What I wish most
Where rage of kindness blinds
My grieving ghosts.
5/20/18
The Folly of Man
Into that great abyss we speak fortunes, wants and frustrations
Seeking that witch can only give us solace to that that never bothers.
A million prayers go out into the night with fear and supplications
Only one eye open, and that half seeing the plan that is our fathers.
We glean the fields of a present day pasture seeing naught but the road ahead
Never looking sideways, to that wich could be. Or back to what has passed
It is the Folly of Man that keeps us building this world from the blood of the dead
Where brick, tile and steel, are forever the molds from witch our children are cast
We need to move forward to a simpler time where things are not complex
When profit does not reign as the bottom line and the dollar is not our savior
To strive for a life where we live freely, without regard to color or sex
When hungry children can catch the breath and hate isn’t normal behavior
When a gift is again just a gift, and no longer requires an equal requital,
And a compliment given to another isn’t for a personal gain.
When justice is sought and given, and no guilty takes home and acquittal
And the innocent can live their lives without feeling unwarranted pain
So look to the instructions that he left us, that those, his chosen have penned,
And wander not where you road will lead you, or what your destiny really is
This world we know is fleeting and into eternity we must all ascend
For never has there been a more apparent truth, that all of this is really His.
Form:
Written By: D. Collins 5/7/24
Goodness in people dominates from the inside out.
Dismissing downtrodden people is not what it's about.
To avoid panhandlers' people would take a different route.
To ensure their lack of bathing didn't land on their suit.
Goodness is generational and not in every child.
Some have that "Gift" while others run wild.
It is the biggest diamond, along with a hoard of gold.
That one God-Given thing that could never be sold.
It's either in you or it ain't to be exceptionally good.
A different kind of liquid running through your blood.
A human characteristic that cannot be duplicated.
It reciprocates love rather than unwarranted hatred.
What Lies Beneath
What lies beneath the grief, these stolen dreams , taken away in the night like a thief. What lies beneath the screams, many slippery slopes.
No longer having the strength to cope. Giving up all hope. Casting away another day, filled with tears that seemed to have lasted a thousand years .
Frustrated by the dos and don't s, the cans and can't s. Rants of unwarranted surrender, misplaced anger. As if, always talking to a stranger, in a room filled with plenty. Any could be or should be your salvation. Yet, left with a battlefield of retaliation, succumbing to an onslaught of annihilation. Retreat to a place ghosted in the past. Last but not least your released, from these emotions in the mirror. Is it any clearer to have had love than to not have it at all? Weaken by the fall of the wicked, misguided and unrestricted from the closure that is needed. Pleaded on broken knees, these thoughts of unease, tease the unrest of the soul. Know your role, within this control like structure of dismay. When there is nothing left to say and all things have gone astray.
D'Arrious