Long Vain Poems
Long Vain Poems. Below are the most popular long Vain by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vain poems by poem length and keyword.
In a world where seductive whispers find echo in ears seeking solace,
People gravitate towards sweet illusions, like moths drawn to a burning flame,
The wicked cling to this earth like an anchor in a troubled sea,
Placing their hopes in leaders and ideologies, in movements that seem to promise salvation,
But the world collapses, rotting under the weight of vain dreams and petty ambitions.
True believers, like solitary stars in the night sky, break away,
Prepared for a Kingdom that knows no boundaries of this fleeting world,
A Kingdom where peace and light reign, where storms do not trouble the sky,
His Kingdom come, a realm of hope and eternity that will never end,
And its glory knows no bounds, like an endless ocean in the morning light.
For the majesty and power of the King of this Kingdom have been revealed to those who see,
And their souls sing in harmony with the silence, feeling eternity in every moment,
In this stream of consciousness, where reality and faith intertwine like a mirage,
We wander with open hearts, seeking the truth that will free us from the chains of time,
As the sky opens, revealing a universe of love and pure light.
Touch of sure voice, taste of fancy;
Hurl of hard choice, hope owns story.
Urge profound sense, upswing of chimes;
Splurge of harsh tense, seal for old times.
Lines of sage friend, love won or lost;
Echoes that trend, embalm true cost.
Endings can tell, etchings that hurl;
Kind sanguine sell, keeping the swirl.
Use knows the way, upsets feed frown;
Apt words that stay, attend like clowns.
Now twilight comes, next lonely trip;
Yield feelings numb, your heart once ripped.
Exit the stage, enter the cold;
Wear fading rage, ways once untold.
So much for change, smile out of style;
Opt to stir range, orbs then worthwhile.
Wise is the man, weaving the dream;
Sail to new lands, stray curious theme.
Will cannot stay, wants out of date;
Indulge last play, intent breaks plate.
Soon to be naught, such is our lot;
End of sure knot, end of sure plot.
Wit fails at last, worn-out form fades;
Attend to fast, appease last trade.
You know your place, you feel your end;
Still failing face, succinct fears tend.
Health once savvy, hurl of power;
Aim most steady, aid that tower.
Rich feisty form, risk laid most plain;
Reveal such norms, rich peace not vain.
You forged a route, yarns in sure feel;
Apt ins and outs, ask just to heal.
Yields of a mind, you come to know;
End vocals find, awkward moves slow.
Mind how things end, move to exit;
Expect new blends, mull thoughts tacit.
Leon Enriquez
02 November 2014
Singapore
You envy me so
With all of your might
You want to steal all my warmth
And extinguish my light
You covet my power
And my celestial role
You want to replace me
With all your heart and soul
You yearn for the control
Over the mornings and day
Your greed for more time
Has lead you astray
You try to block me out
Every couple of years
Unable to completely do so
It brings you to tears
You obsess over my fame
You detest all my praise
You despise my allure
And my warm loving rays
Void of any beauty
You feel dead and cold
Stories of your greatness
Will never be told
Forever chasing the day
You’re bound to the night
You will never be happy
Till you’re the only one on sight
Your quest to seize the day
Is useless and in vain
You’re stuck in your own orbit
That feeds your jealousy and pain
Your chance of replacing me as a star
Won’t be coming soon
For I’m the life giving sun
Silly little moon....
No one likes pain that comes around,
Pleasure is slain in such harsh grounds.
Treasure bold tact that facts true prize,
Pleasure works act in swift surprise,
Pain floods the need to make a change,
Yet habit feeds the vain and strange.
Time after time see message lost,
Reason fails rhyme in journey cost.
Who can re-style better than pain?
Quiver thus smile in ego vain.
Night and day come with ample hits,
Yet see pain sum the foolish wit.
The foolish man must know some pain,
Ere he then scans to bloom and gain.
Harsh tapestry greets vanity,
Seize harmony to be set free.
Learn without pain and progress well,
Live not in vain as pleasure dwells.
Start with clear heart to know what's right,
Then do your part to live most light.
Leon Enriquez
14 April 2016
Singapore
Within the creeping shadows,
do you think you can find me?
Before chaos implodes my soul ~
I’m lost amongst childhood
memories, pounded to ash and dust,
clouding my sight,
as silence stifles my screams.
Whilst rivulets of water collect
around cracked soles,
cold liquid rushes
with each word left unsaid,
rising as foreboding
talons scrape against the ballast
stones of despair.
Spiritual hunger gnaws at my insides,
pain filling a closing throat.
O Helios Flare,
burning the crystalline odyssey,
sailing through sinister sapphires ~
I let my muse
spill cues of clemency,
allowing the salt of stillness
to kiss the bronze bones
beneath my quivering skin.
As I taste the f e a r s ,
the trembling turmeric
of the sun I once loved ~
soaked in
t e a r s of the dragon,
for you and for me.
Yet will the green-eyed gales
ever know, ever feel,
the truth I have traced?
The caged nightmare
that bound my gossamer,
leaf-like wings,
taming me to a gruesome game
of bleeding blame and bruises,
as though I were fated
by the blaze of kismet ~
to be the chained dreamer,
drowning in darkness,
choking on unspoken sorrow,
suffocating on splitting stars,
oblivious to the opalescent
shimmers of moonlight
singing within these vain veins…
So tonight, in muted midnight,
I write ~ and I weave ~
swaying to sulfur-laced,
gustless breezes,
all whilst the choir of dead dreams
serenades abounded hopes,
departed in fractured equilibrium.
No longer able to stay
afloat amongst raging riptides
of repressed trauma, I plummet
into the seas of tranquility,
hoping to emerge
b a p t i z e d by the
empathetic estuaries
flowing through heavens...
Spent my whole life learning how to survive,
Yet never quite learn how to live;
The mountains, the rivers, the wildflowers wait,
With a beauty I fail to receive.
Too short to live, too long to die;
Quite easy to be hurt, too hard to cry.
I can easily surpass violent storms,
Yet fail to fit into these social norms.
I beg of you, set me free, unbind my soul,
Let me write, roam, and sing without a role;
I do not wish to merely spend my days,
Not live a life confined to borrowed ways.
And when I die,
Please don’t cremate me;
Rather bury me in the meadows,
And sow a sunflower seed above me.
And if religion denies it,
Then burn me into ashes;
But please don’t cast me away
Into the vast sea of vain.
Plant me in those same meadows,
So I may return…
As a wildflower once again.
from owned to dethroned
you led me
from queen to unseen
you hid me
once crowned to now bound
you kept me
absorbed to derobed
you left me
a spectacle to be gawked at
you jeered me
from diamond to dust
you threw me
once devoid of lust
you spurned me
and yet, here I am
naked
bleeding
dishonored
unwanted
here I stand
here I smile
biding my time a while
knowing as I do
the inner splendor shines through
I bathe my naked body
perfume every curve
comb out my raven hair
for I dare
This is swear:
None can usurp my throne
It's mine and mine alone
I climb the stairs
and they all stare
yes, they stare
so aware
the Queen has returned
your history’s been burned
I'm here
more beautiful than before
radiance galore
I see you
with flames of desire
once more in your eyes
you...watch me.....R^I^S^E
my glory emanates through
every idol set up by you
adoration's MY due
It is true:
discarded to lauded
I taunt you
demeaned to re-queened
I rule you
I reign, I disdain
don't be vain
your plea to return
I will burn
spurn
I'll watch you yearn
you can't take me back
I know what you lack
a heart and a soul
I won’t make you whole
Knighted to blighted
I see you
And so….
adored to abhorred
I leave you
Eileen Manassian Ghali
It was no longer easy like Sunday morning. I was cold inside.
I was perplexed, confused, and did not have a clue of what to do.
I asked my closest friends, "What shall I do?" As time slowly
elapsed, and the moment of truth was facing me at my door,
I continued asking my friends, "What, what, what shall I do?"
To a person, they never wavered from their point of view.
In fact, they really never had an opinion or point of view.
They continued to say to me, "Just go with the flow".
I couldn't go with the flow because the flow wouldn't go.
I was reminded of a neighboring house bought one winter.
They did not move in right away and someone failed to leave
the furnace on. It became unusually cold in our area and the
water in the pipe line turned to ice which swelled and burst the pipes.
The remodeled house got flooded because the water did not flow but froze.
The water pipes became like my veins, a conduit of pain with ice in the veins.
After becoming frustrated with all of my friends, I said
to them, "There is no flow. It's too cold. There's only
ice in the veins, blocking and locking up the flow".
Behind the blockage is pain and a deluge of falling rain,
making every possibility of change completely impossible.
It seems all is lost and every fix-it attempt is an effort in vain,
a feeble exercise in futility. Why this? Why now? Why here?
Why not there? Why not him? Why me? When there's ice
in the veins, there is only one thing to do. Give it time.
042722PSCtest, Pick-A-Title, Vol 30. Edward Ibeh
Title chose: Ice In The Veins. 2P
When lofty pride corrupts a beautiful mind,
when egotism infects the freshman's brain,
the genius who was the meek, lowly kind,
transforms into a dangerous, mad strain.
The brilliant brainiac who has turned vain,
the Putnam Fellow whose profoundest math,
and theorems caused his rivals so much pain,
precariously embarks on a Faustian path.
But life bathes us all in its humble bath,
and brings us back to a less sinful state,
which turns away the heavenly, sore wrath
of God and thus redeems our earthly fate.
If haughtiness keeps us from the more straight
and narrow, then patiently grace will wait.
He walks right through the wall and bounces of the air,
the ideal is the greatest reality as compulsive fair.
Some minds nail the ideal to the cross for depart,
as the ideal once is dissolved from a love drunken heart.
Then those ideals will have wrinkle and aching pain,
when those star fetched orientations shine in vain.
The danger of fanatic idealism ends in self pity,
even when the intellect feels so witty.
The reality of the ideal a soap opera for sure,
experience out of this is the parody to endure.
Fixed ideals the narrow obelisk of will,
haunting graveyards at midnight still.
For some it’s plenty to live by,
the idea and the love to lie.
Welcome divine ideal and destroyer of the world,
when greatness becomes emptiness unfurled.
The modern world ruled by ideals to find,
the tragedy of who is who lost in human kind.
The over stimulated fatalisms as art,
with no intolerance from the heart.
Millions of ‘ifs’ at the twilight dawn beach,
because nature has that magical promise reach.