Long Venting Poems
Long Venting Poems. Below are the most popular long Venting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Venting poems by poem length and keyword.
There's an instrument called a didgeridoo
From the land down under they say
Used by the indigenous tribes of Australia
About 1500 years ago to the day
Described in books as a natural wood trumpet
Rolf Harris brought it to the fore
He's currently serving five years in prison
For a crime of which I abhor
This scumbag was convicted of child molestation
A despicable deviant behaviour
Five years in prison is not nearly enough
Should have been many years more
Used the word despicable in lieu of another
That accurately describes what I think
If there's one thing that makes this dude's blood boil
These jerks deserve life in the clink
They shouldn't be allowed to roam around free
They're a disgrace to all that is good
They should have tied his bloody “kangaroo” down
Or chopped the thing off where he stood
(Sorry for venting!)
© Jack Ellison 2015
When first I looked, into the light,
I saw but little good, from fights.
Black venting rage, of little good
What point, was anger ever good.
Yet from each sting, accepted rage
I gained a little more inside
grew a little stronger
pulled wisdom, from it's grave
I found the path to walk away
to live, to love, and laugh.
Yes fellow friends of earths great light
I do appreciate the fights.
The battles where I found my feet
where courage, did not hide to deep
I found the confidence of pride
to stand and risk the battle ride
To stand up tall and speak my mind
to say the truth I did not hide
sometimes I did not always win
but felt a peace, of pride within
What fools I think to habour grudge
when in your anger weakness lasts
can't you see beyond your rage
and grasp your inner peace.
I stand against your words, insults
with inner pride, it does not hurt
each day, I stand with inner praise
a job, well done, I did today.
Lifes laughter, finds me working well
for happiness destroys dispair
It's hard to hate the man that laughs
I sing and dance through out each day
Enjoying it in everyway.
You stand and criticise the jews
America you love and hate
You think you're better than the rest
Yet yea of little thoughts I say
are not beyond the rest
from church to state
I say to you
You look for faults
then look within
For none of us are without sins.
poverty builds anger
Poverty builds pain
anger builds to vengence
A passing ball of pain.
step back and think about it friends
step back and walk away
we need to pass the helping hand
and not the ball of pain.
Yet also in my mind I know
the past is not that wrong
fire does fight fire,
yet guidance must be strong
and lead to better living
where poverty is gone.
Written: September 24, 2023
____________________________________________________________
In a world so frigid, where trust is truant
A tale of verity and tea is confluent
As the winds of autumn dance unaware,
A poet's pen weaves words with care.
Sipping the brew in the essence of truth,
Unaware of the winds, I decry my youth.
The aroma of tea brims the midnight air,
As I pour my muse, venting it, from my lair.
On paper, I spill my heart's hidden tale,
A cascade of words, a poetic trail.
Rather than a poem, it becomes a confession,
A midnight release, a poisonous obsession.
Honesty comes, staring from the void,
A force that cannot be ignored.
In a world of drudge and deceit,
Honest people often slighted a rare feat.
But here, in the realm of tea and truth,
Morality becomes a choice, a moral sleuth.
With each sip, the brew becomes a meal,
Nourishing the soul, revealing what's real.
In a day booked with lies and deceit,
The amiable ones are acute to meet.
But the tea knows it sees through the lies,
Unveiling the truth, no need to disguise.
In the hidden brew of honesty,
A tool to be in this dotty world, you foresee.
Justified or not, the truth will prevail,
In this frigid place, where lies often assail.
So let us gather, dear friends, around this cup
And let the truth flow, never giving up.
With every sip, let us toast to trust,
To find solace in a world unjust.
For in the depths of this hidden brew,
Lies the power to amend, to start anew.
Let us embrace the honesty it brings,
And let it guide us, akin to angelic wings.
September 1 Scripture Meditations Based on Nahum 1-3
Key Verse– Nahum 1:7 The LORD is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble; and he knoweth them that trust in him.
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR BEING MY STRONGHOLD
Thank You for being my stronghold in the day of trouble
Midst hell-fire’s punishment, causing fright-tremble…
Your goodness has reached out to me from sin-rubble
Enabling me to be spiritually stable.
Thank You for being my stronghold in the day of adversity
Midst pride’s destruction, bringing haughtiness-calamity…
Your mercy has visited me from transgression and iniquity
Enabling me to be prayerfully mighty.
Thank You for being my stronghold in the day of judgment
Midst filthiness-prevalence, poisoning corruption-involvement…
Your love has attended to me against idolatry’s indictment
Enabling me to be truly free from wrath’s torment.
Thank You for being my stronghold in the day of testing
Midst weakness’ attack, intensifying doubt-venting…
Your faithfulness has upheld me from discouragement-fainting
Enabling me to be constantly depending on You, always trusting.
Thank You for being my stronghold in the day of crises
Midst discontentment’s complaints, seeking satisfaction-caress…
Your provision has filled me from scarcity-curses
Enabling me to be joyfully grateful with Your sufficiency that blesses.
Thank You for being my stronghold in the day of confusion
Midst anxiety’s fatigue, fortifying foolishness-permission…
Your truth has secured me against unbelief’s intrusion
Enabling me to be firmly settled in Your wisdom for my learning session.
Thank You for being my stronghold in the day of loneliness
Midst misery’s sickness, drowning health-wellness…
Your gladness has cheered me up from desolation-madness
Enabling me to be victoriously worshipful with peacefulness.
September 1, 2022
Venting...
I trust NO one here,
I have a REALLY good life,
I WILL care for Sean!
Some people DO care!
Sometimes, I think way too much...
I say, "GO to Hell!"
Scarlet Cope, is or will be my wife,
She is freaking hot and I hope to spend my life with,
I still have some hope but can I cope?
I pushed her away,
The hotel was WAY too much,
I miss her dearly,
I lived in hotels,
I worked in them,
We should NOT have to live in them,
I am NOT a jew,
I still have many Jewish friends,
I studied their ethics,
There is NO end,
You can be my friend,
Be there in the end,
In this evil world,
We MUST transcend this,
My name is Glenn...
And yours is... ___________
short drizzle of rain
splash window and grain
cleaning
flowers gleam post drain
clouds' gathered again
venting
rumble roused the sprain
shake hard the terrain
stirring
vibrant smidgen sward
not pleasant toward
softy
daffodils were oared
glossiest bright ward
lovely.
worker bees discord
care for hive concord
duty
1st PLACE CONTEST WINNER
The Lay is a very old French form of poetry. Its format is fairly simple:
9 lines per stanza, with a rhyming scheme of AAB AAB AAB and a syllable count pattern of 552 552 552.
Written: March 17, 2022
A BRIAN STRAND 1091 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
This must be what it felt like when God breathed life into man or when Adam first saw Eve
We paint white sheets with vibrant colors, the bed is our canvas and love is the only art
Yawning with happiness leaving my morning breath
Looking to my left, I could watch you sleep all day as you lay with the glow of an angel or mornings first light
As innocence, beauty, and desire radiate from your soft kissed skin matching the sun rays
I fell asleep to the scent of your Aruba wave hair staining my pillows
With my arms holding you like a fall breeze clasping the deep red and orange leaves
Waking up to your head resting on my chest and my arm around your lower back
Your legs intertwined and over mine
Site slowly venting to your heavenly morning glimmers and your rosy morning fine
She moans Buenos Dias
p.s. I want you like just five more minutes…
Stores should be full, yet, not to the pitch of breaking of barns,
Floods within dams shouldn't become causes of our mourns;
Venting all that is frothing within, is way of nature,
Pending to do so might breach the divine legislature...!
Let no chains, yet, bind hearts and hands in doing what is good,
Graces from God, like clear streams, pour in as much as they should;
Mercies from heaven, like rain-torrents, should merrily flow,
Wet, bodily and mentally, life, like sunshine, should glow...!
At the times of Noah, Yahweh opened the floodgates full,
And destroyed the evil-doers, like in storms, cotton-wool;
Those within the arch, like chicks from eggs, the merciful saved,
Granted them new life and made them multiply, as they craved...!
Open the floodgates! For it’s a world of complexities,
Beliefs, codes, ethics and mores, here, face great subtleties;
Crops of goodness and kindness seem to remain so faded,
Weeds of conceits, deceits and meanness stand seeds invaded...!
Pride, envy, wrath, sloth, greed, gluttony, violence and lust,
From within walls of heads and hearts, should not, like tempest, guest,
Release them through floodgates of grace, glory and charity,
Assert in deep floods of weakness, calmness and clarity...!
24 April 2022
Every four years and it seems that every year in between,
Politicians prey upon the populace venting their usual spleen,
Promising this and promising that, saying they will deliver.
The scatological babble flows like a flooding tidewater river!
Candidates and their pals prowl about the nation to promote,
Anything they think we ought to hear, anything to get our vote!
They vow to build a local dam and provide universal medical care,
Lower the national debt and clean up the polluted air!
They promise they'll never raise taxes, looking us dead in the eye.
We've heard that one before - they'll increase them bye and bye!
When they proclaim, "I have a plan!", we become very suspicious.
They expound on grand schemes - most turn out to be fictitious!
Farmers are assured they'll get top prices for beef, corn and wheat,
While promising consumers they'll pay less for what they eat!
They promise new roads, bridges, schools and such,
But once in office, they seem so remote and out of touch!
Regardless of their party affiliation, politicians are all the same.
When things go awry they all point the accusing finger of blame.
And when at last that exalted office they attain,
Alas, it seems all those promises were made to us in vain!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Moonlight creeps through the writhing woodland as
Arion walks alongside me—upward toward the lone mountain.
We had trekked for miles and the way was wearisome,
heavy fog in its obscuring fidelity stalking our every step.
Winds shrieked around us like dissonant flutes—
high pitched, fortissimo screams that died in
and died out dismally.
They reminded me of my own undulating doubts
manifesting into fits of malignant mess—
but the steady sound of our unified steps
soothed my panicking heart—tears flower
my eyes, dropping like dew.
Soon—as many storms do—
the winds died away along with my fears.
That is when the mockingbird
began to stridently trill in the distance,
its venting variations vaguely familiar.
Arion and I stopped in a flat clearing, stunned by its clarity,
listening intently to her songs.
Timelessness touched the forest
as melodies touched our hearts.
When her trills ceased, I first witnessed
the tears of my loyal companion.
Somehow, they made him younger and freer.
Excitement sprouted from his eyes
like wildflowers witnessing their first dawn.
He wiped the tears away with his sleeve
and beamed like a sunrise.
“For just one moment—one moment,
she sounded like my mother,” he stammered.
I grasped his hands and held them to my heart.
Arion looked up to the sky, above the circle of trees,
as if he recognized a face in the midnight expanse.
We made a camp and settled silently in the clearing.
The last thing we remember before closing our eyes
was the overhead flutter of shadowed wings
and a gentle sigh beyond the pines.
(note: this is the third part of an epic about Arion I shared a while ago. The first and second pieces are “Little Glistening Salmon” and “Ocarina Steps”)