Long Withdrew Poems
Long Withdrew Poems. Below are the most popular long Withdrew by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Withdrew poems by poem length and keyword.
Conflict
The priest ran
Scared to raise
An ignorant army
On a darkling plain
Loading guns
With dummy
Faith. The froth
Rose arrogantly
In the test
Tube. They heard
Eyes shut and saw
Ears plugged,
Contorted faces
Expecting the explosion
Any moment.
Slowly
Very slowly the froth
Spilled over
Leaving behind—would
The “faithful”believe?—a near
Essence of religion.
I Meet A King
He stood in the middle of the lane,
A toddler in tatters,
Confronting my speeding scooter.
I cursed the nowhere –in-sight,careless mother,
Then shifting gear,
Threatened a mock dash,
Was to him but a big plaything
Come for his pleasure.
The sudden smile over his face
Lit up my heart.
I withdrew a little,
Bowed to his imperial innocence
And humbly went my way.
The Sea Of Truth,Land Of Desire
Daunted by its drowning depths
I sought assurance of the rocks
But the sea – it called me ceaselessly.
Frightened by its flood and froth
I clambered inland hurriedly
But the sea – it called me ceaselessly.
Nerves racked by its wheeling surge
Tried land’s many pleasure groves
But the sea – it called me ceaselessly,
Looking for my roots in glades
Soon was lost among the trees
And the sea – it called me ceaselessly.
On the beach I sat once off my guard
When the sea crept near me silently
And the sea – it licked me lovingly.
That moment joy and fear were one
My visions did a somersault
And the sea – it soaked me ceaselessly.
Sea’s mercy makes the inland rich
Sea’s magic makes the sunset glow
And the sea – it gives us ceaselessly.
O thou formless yet unfailing sea
My very own though boundless sea
In turmoil O thou tranquil sea !
I have learnt the timings of the tide
And make obeisance to the waves
For the sea now thrills me ceaselessly.
How l would to love to leave the shore
And whale-like wallow in the sea
For the sea – it thrills me ceaselessly.
But awed by its mysterious depths
I still sometimes walk the earth
But the sea –it loves me ceaselessly.
Child How Innocent!Lord’s Delight
Crawling,toddling,frolicking sight,
Playing,lisping,smiling bright,
,Eating,drinking,gaining height
Alive all day,dead at night,
Present gaiety future might,
Nothing bothered wrong or right.
Child! How innocent,Lord’s delight,
Gift from Heaven trailing light.
---------------*-----------*-------- *----------* ---------
...He reformed the routing patriots,
formed a line atop a rise, Perrine’s Hill,
brought in General Knox and the artillery,
commanding the mass through sheer force of will.
He needed to buy time for the main force
to march on and join up in the battle,
the British kept coming, soon to attack,
convinced they still had the patriots rattled.
Before in battle the Redcoats just had
to flash their bayonets in the bright sun,
that was enough to scare Continentals
and assure them the battle was won.
But they were no longer facing such men,
the Americans had learned Europe’s game,
they did not flee at the sight of steel,
gave hard volleys once the foe was in range.
Britain’s field commander, General Cornwallis,
made several attacks to break up the line,
only to run into fire and rage,
with his Redcoats turned back every time.
They he tried to turn Washington’s left flank,
the boldest maneuver of the fight yet,
but the main force had come, and pushed forwards,
striking hard under young Lafayette.
Seeing there would be no quick victory
the British withdrew there forces back,
both armies in defensive positions,
the fight would become a long slugging match.
Soldiers hunkered down as across the fields
artillery thundered and cut loose,
both sides trying to break up the other,
their foe’s ranks they sought hard to reduce.
The heat was such that many of the men,
suffered and even died from heat stroke!
One man passed out and his wife manned his gun,
fighting on alongside all the blokes.
Then Washington sent Nathaniel Green
with artillery up towards Comb’s Hill,
a high position on the British left,
from which the guns could enfilade and kill.
The British saw their hopeless position,
and quickly began an ordered retreat,
marching north towards Clinton’s main force,
having blown their opportunity.
Washington saw his enemy leaving,
and sent Mad Anthony Wayne forward,
to harangue the British as they marched off,
cutting down men despite their good order.
And through the battle ended as a draw,
for the nation it was victory,
they’d kept the field in an open battle,
and matched the Redcoats in soldiery.
This changed the calculus of the whole war,
all knew battles would be more costly now,
England would no longer campaign in the north,
hoping for easier prey down south…
It was now growing dark as the sun was going down
When a stranger rode into Soup Creek, a frontier town
No one could see his face, he was all dressed in black
An old boy was heard to say "I think he's come back".
He took his horse to the stable, then went to the boarding house
Before he went in looked across the street, to the town jailhouse
There was a familiar figure sat outside, in a rocking chair
Cradling a Winchester and the stranger, felt his cold stare.
He'd returned after all these years; he had something to prove
And just after a few days back in town, he would make his move
But Sheriff Koplin is no fool and he had planned up far ahead
And had formed a posse whilst the stranger slept in his bed.
Three fiesty girls from the saloon, Jan and Jenna, Tania too
And a Texas ranger called David who was just passing through
With gambler Milton who was deadly, with a colt forty five
And Tom the undertaker who looked more dead than alive.
It was the evening of the showdown; the stranger came out of the saloon
The sun was now setting but the tension had been building up since noon
From his holster he withdrew his pistol and then fired shots up into the air
The stranger was not one for living a peaceful life and he just didn't care.
Sheriff Koplin approached him and said "Hand over your gun"
And the stranger replied "Lighten up man, I'm just having fun"
The stranger was laughing now and looking down at his feet
The townsfolk were nervous and had disappeared off the street.
Then behind the stranger came a shout in a loud Texas drawl
It was Jenna disguised as an old woman, covered with a shawl
"You heard the sheriff " she shouted, "Put your gun on the ground"
The air was now thick with tension and you couldn't hear a sound.
Then from nowhere the rest of the posse appeared pistols in hand
They abhorred bullies and conflict and were prepared to make a stand
The stranger realised he couldn't win and threw his gun down
Walked to the livery stable to get his horse, and rode out of town.
The drama was now over but it could have gone either way
Sheriff Koplin and his posse restored peace, and had won the day
It was now days end in Soup Creek in that peaceful frontier town
All you could hear were chirping crickets as the sun was going down.
Written on 20th May 2022.
A Chinese girl I took to a nunnery
I
I led her
Her silent leg-irons cutting into my shins
That day when the air stood still
Dry as the day perhaps on the hill
when he spoke standing still
Drier still my words today
of a redundant ransom of flesh:
I’ll take you to the stopping place
Where the quiet cowled nuns make lace
They run a school for well-bred girls
In a cloistered fenced-in arbour
There where you’d have no need for curls
She turned just then seven and ten
Me barely two more when
She said in a breathless moan:
Take me to the French Convent
Here my road has come to an end
I want to learn
I want to gain
As much knowledge as my brain
Will strive to contain
I had no choice
I had no voice
In a Chinese school which stopped midways
She was the best of forty times five
Where I was hoarse from English and Science
She sat so close in the front row
She must have felt my breath at home
Her cowlick hand stretched crooked
Brushed my thoughts down my mane
Something about her dragging gait
Spoke of late hours as a kitchen mate
Or as the matron of squabbling squawking siblings
When the mother scrubbed and ironed
the landlord’s lingerie and loins
A saddened face she kept awake
All through the hours at stake
II
It took me days and days of doubting pains
To ring at last the nunnery bell
And to stare aghast at a pallid face
Not quite white and not quite couched in cowl
To register my request
The novice drew and barred the door
As though I would break down the wall
And as the minutes raced in anguish by
And I heard the rusted pig-iron latch click open
Two forbidding eyes contemplated my plight
Under strictly starched and stretched folds a-sail:
“Is she Catho…” she made to ask
Then as urgently withdrew her demand.
“Bring her tomorrow at eight,” she let her words
escape.
“Ring the bell at the gate.”
I never saw the demure girl again.
Her schoolmates thought she worked for the nuns.
Others: “ She took some vows!”
A sibling: “ She took no clothes for a change!”
Just before her silhouette effaced itself
Under the porch of creepers dense
She turned to give me a look:
Was it a look of despair
Or a well-thought-out
farewell fair?
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
In the Darkness
In the darkness, I have roamed with unseen obstacles in my path. Some I have stumbled over and some have knocked me down. Some have taunted me and put fear in my heart. Some have led me astray and others have blinded my eyes. Some whisper lunacy in my ears while others have tempted me to delve in sin. Some have wounded me with words and some have mocked my innocence.
I have walked in the iniquity of sin, dabbled in the delights of desire. I have sinned and lost my innocence and have walked the road to hell. I have felt the caress of love upon my cheek but brushed it away. I have seen the glories of God’s creation but have littered upon the land. I have heard the sweet whisper of hope in my ears but have closed them to the voice of reason.
I have reached out my hand and then withdrew it. I have opened my heart then pierced it with the shaft of unbelief. I have shown kindness then replaced with cruelty. I have given love then I have turned away. I have sinned and ask for forgiveness then sinned yet the same sin again. I have praised and worshipped then I have fallen from grace. I have done all these things yet my heart still belongs to you God.
I know not perfection for I am imperfect. I know not loyalty for I am disloyal. I know not beauty for I am plain and I know not freedom for I am bound. I do know the father for he created me and the son for he saved me and the spirit for the spirit loved me and though I am led astray I look to the light to guide me home.
The light has guided me from the darkness and lit the path before me. It has removed my bonds and made me free. It has blotted out that which would blind me and led me to kneel before the throne. It has caressed my face with the
allure of hope and has given me the strength to resist the desires of sin. I look to the heavens and see the light of a great city radiant with love and peace and God I see your hands reaching out for me.
Father please forgive me for I have sinned. Please have mercy upon me for I know it is not your desire that I shall perish in the fire. Let me serve you for you
are the guiding light and the father of my savior and the giver of life. Lord wash away the dust of sin that has littered my soul and cleanse it with your holy fire for I am yours forevermore, Amen.
Terry Burns
11/21/2016
Chapter 4
As the weeks passed I finally got an idea,
I suggested she take up his offer,
And in sitting for dinner ask his folks for help
In her quest to just tame their son’s ardor.
For it seemed the best chance she might really be heard
With his family gathered around him.
It was up for discussion for several weeks
Till at last she decided she’d do it.
Well the drive to the country took over an hour,
First surprise was his home was a mansion.
Her friend’s mother awaited her on the front porch
With a welcome that passed understanding.
And as Neethu then touched his mother’s feet in respect
Her heart trembled at what she was feeling.
For the gist of it was it was like she was home
There was no other way to explain it.
With the greetings complete they all turned to the house
To a large room attractively furnished.
“I’m so glad that I’ve finally met you,” she said,
“But so sad about your recent losses.”
Neethu’s eyes were quite drawn to a picture filled wall
Like a shrine to a wonderful childhood.
“Let me get some refreshment” she rose and withdrew,
“It’s her childhood best friend,” her son told her.
As she rose, walked to wall, to view pictures up close
There was something about them quite haunting.
“Does your mom have more pictures?” she quietly asked.
“Only tons,” the boy said, “In her bedroom.”
“Don’t you think that she’s pretty?” returning with snacks,
His mom noticing Neethu’s absorption.
“Always was my best friend and we looked so alike
When we dressed the same many confused us.”
“Could I see some more pictures?” her voice pleading now,
“Why, of course, dear, let’s move to my bedroom.”
“We both loved shooting pictures, it’s why I have these,
Not the same though, as being together.”
With an album in hand Neethu went straight to back,
To a picture of her parent’s wedding.
Her eyes brimming with tears, the boy’s mom’s voice moved on,
For she hadn’t seen Neethu’s reaction.
“It is really quite sad,” she said, “that we lost touch
After she moved away with her husband.”
“In the army I guess that they move you a lot.
But I did hear that now they have children.”
“There’s no good way to say this,” she felt her voice crack,
“But your best friend was also my mother.”
July 12, 2016
Brian Johnston
"Help me ... to strive, to seek, to find and not to yield"
Quote by - Tennyson
My tears could fill the ocean blue,
because my heart is forever shattered;
your deaths have my soul bleeding,
and my spirit is broken, broken;
Lord, give me strength for today !
Mom, when you died I just withdrew,
I was empty of emotion and done;
and I would not listen to people,
all help and questions I ignored;
Lord, give me courage for today !
When I said farewell and adieu,
to Daddy- gone was my anchor and rock;
it was so sudden that I was lost;
oh, I will always recall the exact time;
Lord, help me to surrender my pain !
Grandma left me with the morn' dew,
she had taken this child in her arms to mend;
and had been my inspiration to write,
the reason poetic words are now my life;
Lord, help me accept all this grief, sorrow!
I visit and pass a statue,
of a weeping angel at his cold grave;
my love, I know you want me to go on,
but to grieving your death I did and do;
Lord, hold me in your arms when I am afraid !
Again, I was in a church pew,
weeping the loss of my sweet baby boy;
we buried him with a little blue teddy bear,
his death took away what was left of me;
Lord, carry me in your arms when I am weeping !
But, somehow this sad girl got through,
it took courage and strength and lots of tears;
it did not happen fast but took me years,
and I now whisper each day healing prayers;
Lord, I give you all my sorrow so I can let it go !
From- The Book of the Prophet Isaiah,
Verse 43:2 When thou passest through the waters,
I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not
overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou
shall not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.
_____________________
January 06, 2022
Poetry/Dramatic Monologue/ TEARS I GIVE TO THE LORD
Copyright Protected, ID 01-1419-470-06
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Inspiration is my 07/12/21 rhyme poem, My Heart Is Shattered
rewritten in Dramatic Monologue for this contest (words and lines
added and some rhyming words deleted to change it from rhyme)
Written for the Standard contest My Significant 2021
sponsor, Beata Augustin, Judged 01/25/2022
First Place
Decades of a formula that only he knew about it and drew,
Cascades of his artwork came to a head in his last years,
Glissades of a swan in a lake that only a handful had seen,
Tirades made its mark on him, distant from fellow peers.
~~[Van Gogh]~~
Impressed of his art garnered some interest in his style,
Oppressed, a constant companion only he can befriend,
Obsessed by what he drew insanely violent he withdrew,
Distressed he found salvation in asylums to not descend.
~~[Wheatfield With Crows]~~
Crows, black gawking, feed in a meadow ache for harvest,
Know that art needs to be made, scheme food for thought,
Those sinister birds, a murder of crows festering the grain,
Throes a fit mocking 'em, flys, pained him more than aught.
~~[Starry Night]~~
Bleak sky of blues, stars gave rise to a miracle been made,
Streak of a sprawl unfurls his heavens tethered madness,
Speak not lest he loses his concentration, maintains focus,
Meek town his groundwork, lofty jewel amidst the sadness.
~~[Bedroom At Arles]~~
Red, that laid on a bed, table, chairs, paintings on the wall,
Said was where he severed his ear, water bowl mirror hung,
Head bandaged where he bled, he does a self-portrait of it,
Deadman walking, Gauguin part ways, no song to be sung.
~~[Self-Portrait Bandage Ear And Pipe]~~
Drew closer, when they were both young, be such friends,
Few friends Van Gogh had, Gauguin was at that moment,
Grew apart after Vince shaving Paul, Vince wanted to hurt,
Knew time together was getting just a bit grave and potent.
~~[House At Auvers]~~
Return to Arles made Van Gogh happy for good times there,
Upturn spirits was a rarity, too few and far in the middle,
Discern with him was questionable because he's unstable,
Concern for his good, art kept him busy, else is second fiddle.
~~[Doctor Gachet]~~
Fields back of the house, a pistol, he plans to shoot himself,
Wields his pistol, shoots, nobody hears, years gun lays hidden,
Yields his brother Theo to his side as doctor aides him little,
Shields truth futile, his art was world-renown, dies bedridden.
who knew?
firstoff, i wish to say, but not overdo,
that i never knew, what the new gnu knew
he never really said very much, and i knew
he wouldn't as such, since, being a new gnu
he hadn't much clue 'bout what to do
the previous gnu had a more worldly view
from Kalamazoo journeyed east to Timbuktu
beyond Katmandu south, down to old Peru
been many places, wore out many a shoe
but always believed that he'd come through
he got entangled with a bit of a shrew
a South American sheep, a hot-blooded ewe
that took every opportunity to scold and spew
venomous accusations that were mostly untrue
she really raised a big hullabaloo
he, being the good gnu we all knew
tried to smooth her feathers, to gently subdue
her wild angers towards that wildebeest
but, to little avail to say the least
yet it was the best the old gnu knew to do
he bleated that his love for her was true
she neighed loudly that no, they were through
she saw him now, from a whole different view
said she was leaving, that he should not pursue
for all she cared, he could turn into glue
she knew now she wanted the new gnu to woo
the new gnu knew amorously what would quickly ensue
but couldn't overcome with analytical review
certainty of grief from passions point of view
love's cliff came careening into abysmal view
"Ewe are what I want" the new gnu cried anew
in turn the ewe replied "i will always love you"
we'll build a life we always wanted, long overdue
have many children, a whole herd, a gnu ewe crew
we'll be happy ever after, in our own petting zoo
the new gnu thought he'd just follow through
but things went awry, let's say, far askew
the new gnu knew he'd met his own Waterloo
it wasn't long, you know, 'fore the ewe went skidoo
without even so much as a fond adieu
then the new gnu and the old gnu began to renew
a friendship, from which they both, had withdrew
i don't wish to insinuate, and not misconstrue
the bond of companionship the gnus lovingly grew
when old bonds are severed another comes on cue
now the gnus know what all beings should too
happiness and contentment depends on your view
you never know what the turn of your screw
in pursuit of a felicity, unknown hitherto
gets new gnu possibilities coming out of the blue
...thank you...
© Goode Guy 2013-05-31
We can’t go out so what to do?
How do we spend our time?
Imagination, racing thoughts
My brain on overtime.
There’s gardening, painting, DIY
Non urgent jobs to do,
They’re boring and predictable,
I need stimulus, tried and true.
That lazy dog could do a bit,
He snores his life away
Maybe I could combine some things
And make him earn his pay.
The veg patch is so overgrown,
With weeds and grass and such,
It needs a plough to turn it all,
To dig is far too much.
I contemplate the problem,
Ideas are coming fast,
My engineering side comes forth
To help me in this task.
A rotary lawnmower
With motor burnt right out,
I’ll take off all the spinning bits
And modify throughout.
A blade made from a shovel,
That I found lying around,
I built a wooden structure
And fixed it facing down.
A harness formed by ropes,
Tied to doggies walking brace
Then fixed back to the plough
Would keep the mutt in place.
I could steer it by the handles
While the dog was harnessed in
Then turn the garden over,
Job done, that’s it, we’re in.
I put the dog’s brace on him
And he thought his luck was in.
It must be walkies he seemed to say
As he looked at me and grinned.
I led him to my work of art,
And he sniffed at it a bit,
Then he looked at me and shook his head,
Raised a leg and peed on it.
I tied the ropes to his dog brace
And I told him what to do,
But he sat down in front of it,
His labour he withdrew.
I cut a long and whippy stick,
And urged him to get on,
And when I smacked him on the back,
I thought my end had come.
He shot off like racing hound,
Yelping all the way,
The plough was going sideways,
Gouging on its way.
He headed for the rose bushes,
The wife’s most treasured bit,
Then smashed them down to matchsticks
In a horrendous, swathing hit.
I was yelling, he was yelping,
The noise was quite insane,
As he cut a huge wide furrow
In our lush lawn’s green terrain.
The plough got stuck fast suddenly,
The dog wrenched off his feet
And he landed, winded on the ground
Like a hundred yards athlete.
I dismantled the plough
And scattered the bits,
No more projects from my thinking cap,
As I surveyed the garden wreckage
Of my lockdown’s worst mishap.