Long Wits end Poems
Long Wits end Poems. Below are the most popular long Wits end by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wits end poems by poem length and keyword.
Ta'likra
was a most stubborn slave
He loved to rattle the chain
It was a sound of pure defiance
that echoed across the lush plantation terrain
Son of Antuk
had a pygmy burning bush spirit
He seethed silently
as the lashes dug deep into his back
The masters hoped the other slaves
would see this bloody spectacle and fear it,
thwarting any thoughts of a rebellious attack
He was beloved by the other slaves,
he had a will of burnished steel
He had a big heart, noble and brave,
his presence strengthened the weak and the ill
The European rulers had a troublesome dilemma:
If they killed Ta'likra, they would make him a martyr;
causing him to live still past his death,
stirring up angry African chants of unrest
And if they let him live,
he would continue to challenge their authority
Thus making it harder to rule over
the other slaves with complete fear and impunity
They struck a balance as to what they would do,
they would whip him daily, give him meager rations
Eventually break his spirit down to ashes
But that didn't work against this
four-foot-two mountain of a man
He was Pygmy,
he was a dark bush man
He was pure African,
borne upon the hot desert sand
He didn't fear death,
he didn't fear pain
Thrice bitten by the deadly viper,
he loved to rattle the chain
The masters, unable to break his spirit,
were perplexed and at wits end
When a wizened one with gnarled raised hand,
offered up a most enlightened plan
This old, white medicine man
appealed to Ta'likra in a peach grove
He said, where would the souls of the ancestors go,
if the tree of life isn't allowed to flourish and grow
The tender buds of the future will wither away,
and the great roots of your ancestors will die here today
Let us gather up the ancient leaves, my warrior friend,
and build a fire of peace
Let us pay homage to the holy ancient ones
with gifts of love and largesse
For as the stars will not always remain in the sky to stay,
the chains of slavery will be removed from your people one day
Ta'likra, the Pygmy prince,
peered into the blue eyes of the old man,
and thought deep on his sage sayings
Then he arose in dignified grace
and silently walked away
He never once rattled his chain again,
he kept his untamed rage locked in the cage within
I walked the lonely path the color of You choose this is a poetic duel to wits end or high noon Where do you spend a coined word The quick draw he drew a blank then there is the sure aim to please without pleasure A smith hammers as a poet with the sun high in the sky A ghostwriter in a ghost of a town opens the saloon door stepping out walking to his own tune You scribe something in the dust a thundering crack as the ink slings A reporter give s quick sketch on a pad A composer measure you for a coffin The originator was a word The scribbler well he Then a word slinger walks away
they've been moments in life when you've felt that you were at your wits end
be it spiritually, financially or physically be it in a relationship with family or friends
tired of whenever you've been blessed the enemy attempts to knock you down
ready to throw in the towel and just fall to the ground
but if you're a disciple of Christ you will come to comprehend
that God will get you through anything from beginning to end
so before you turn to Oprah, Dr. Oz or even Dr. Phil
have a little talk with the Lord God and then just sit still
He might not get there when you want Him but God is always right on time
and He's aware of everything you're going through that's why He's called divine
omnipotent, omnipresent and all knowing with His infinite power
God knows what's happening at any given hour
so are you at your wits end? can you see no way out?
it's time to put your trust in God for in Him there's never any doubt
God knows more about us than we will ever know about ourselves
His knowledge is so infinite and full spiritual wealth
for it was He who created us and it was He who gave us the breath of life
He also gave us the gift that lifted us and freed us from sin with the blood sacrifice
so are you at your wits end? what thoughts are running through your mind?
do you realize that God knows what you're thinking at any given time?
He knows what you will say before the words fall from your lips
He knows what you will do before you do it as it was He who wrote the script
so there's no need to be at your wits end if you're a child of Christ
remember God is watching over you every minute of your life
I once had a plane reservation for 8 o'clock at night
but the lady behind the ticket counter decided to change my flight
I asked her why did she do this? and she said "Reverend you need to comprehend"
that 8pm flight had a 2 hour layover
and the 9pm flight will serve you better in the end
not only did I arrive earlier but she had upgraded me to first class too
I have come to realize that God has a master plan that might better suit you
so no longer am I at my wits end as I've place myself in God's hands
living to praise, living to rejoice by waiting and abiding by His plans
Winter nights, the darkness comes quick
Key in door, to an empty house
Jacket falls fast right on the floor
I stare at the stand, at the telephone for sure
There she sits, alone, unmoving
No blinking light
No message at all
From a lovers voice or even a call from the mall
The ritual is the same, night after night
I pick up the phone, yes dial tone is there
I check the wires, all attached with great care
Its not broken, same as this morning
I confess, yes I stare at the phone over there
The phone is a functioning, I am assured
I call the weather line, yes a test but I was bored
They tell me is all sunny up over yonder
So no one calls me, of this I must ponder
I confess yes I stare, at the dark phone sitting there
Maybe the answering system parts are malfunctioning
Maybe she really did some exotic oh calling
Oh what I am saying, she’s out to the ball
While I look at telephone, alone in the hall
I confess yes I stare, I stare and stare
So another night, outside shines the bright city lights
I open the door to the darkness in fright
For oh my god, I see a blinking light
My heart beats in excitement, this is surely the night
I stare at a ringing telephone
Oh my what a delight!!!!!!!!
Click
Wrong number
Now I am distressed, depressed, redressed
I am at my wits end I must confess
Another evening I sit here alone
Just me and my silent old black phone
I stare a that contraption then the abscess of the night
Like all of the nights in 2014
I will sleep in a bed, with no hug or ice-cream
The pleasures of life, belong not to me
Me and my phone will never be set free
So now it’s New Years Eve, party hat and good cheer
I sit alone with my phone, to ring in the New Year
Oh the irony yes I did see
For the phone is as silent as the heart inside me
I stare at the past; I stare at the wall
Where I contemplate tossing the phone, cord and all
Then it rings, and shocks me out of my trance
2015 has arrived with a telephone call!!!!! so happy I dance!!!!
Cause this time she called, god bless romance
Happy New Year
The last hoorah of old man winter 2022?
March twelfth Ded Moroz
struts his white stuff
first real substantial puncheon
found Jack Frost in his glory,
he haint no longer morose nor gruff,
cuz series of fortunate meteorological events
found crystalline precipitation hoary.
I revel watching
the bit torrent of snowflakes alight
upon the greensward;
a cold wind bloweth and doth bite
any exposed flesh of daredevil
(the re:noun Evel Knievel of verbiage)
weather beaten soul
trundling with delight
inured to brutal cold
all fours seasons excite
contemplative character
asked me to ghostwrite,
thus a reasonable rhyme yielded
courtesy wuthering height.
Yours truly breathes deep sigh of relief,
when surprise blizzard came our way,
no matter yours truly solitary fellow
holed up in me mancave yay,
he experiences unfettered glee
for picturesque blustery scene today
eight sleeps before Spring Equinox
glad second rate nor'easter
pummeled Southeastern
Montgomery County, Pennsylvania.
The near future forecast
bodes well nigh arrival of vernal equinox
when the sun crosses celestial equator
in northerly direction, marking
prime meridian of right ascension.
Fanfare for common man
(think das scribe spinning these lines)
grateful timely notion
kindled inside mine noggin
truth be told - before onset of storm,
I drew one blank after another
and felt at my wits end
regard apropos material to write about.
Methought to soon to post
poem about beware the ides of March,
(approximately sixty one
and a half hours hence,
similar explanation regarding
summoning creative literary endeavor
honoring Lá Fhéile Pádraig sona duit,
thus imposed upon figurative shoulders
(mine) to hash out some
marginally passable verse.
Now attention pauses to take look see
out bedroom window
watching medley of gusty air
in sync with blizzard conditions,
yet yours truly snug
as a bug in a rug
despite not turning on the heat,
and would ye believe
bard of Perkiomen Valley
only donned in ma birthday suit?
Tearing a poem in two, ripping a part an entire idea
insanity or ingenious, unthinkable or approved, forbidden
who knows
One important question: is traitor now the title I bear
a traitor to myself, betrayer to everything I stand up for
a traitor to the millions of poets out there, betrayer to the art
God, don't let it be; I can't lose the vent
which brings me fresh air
Poetry is all I know, the life I live
I couldn't escape, runaway if I tried; exile would prove unbearable
but the difference, there is none
My exile om social distortion reigns every single day
between the moments I feel I could write forever
to the moments when I'm running on an empty tank
Machines, I hollowly laugh at how heavily I've depended
upon the resource
to manipulate my thoughts to fall in line like soldiers
instead of having enough trust and faith
to build upon my own legacy with my own ability
My words, now, are enormous, pointless sedatives
a lullaby for even myself, not even getting past the fourth word
The edge, the drive, the fire contained in my liberal lyrics
flushed out, extinguished once again
Shamefully, it's one more thing I've watched
slip through my fingers like sand
I was once a man of black and white
who created an entire galaxy filled with a multitude of color
Could it be, the world stole my skin while I was in slumber
WHY MUST A PRICE BE SETTLED FOR AN OUNCE OF...
oh, just for an ounce of happiness...selfishly for me
My face to the sky, wondering why
I turn my back to the clouds, buried face down in grass
Breathe in for today, scream for tomorrow
catching myself praying for a sparring match with fate
to prove I can change myself into something positive
though it casts me down as pessimistic
I'm honestly so sick of this...reached my wits end
No surrender, surrender but maybe I just need to fall apart
I already feel possessed by a broken mess
a shadow of myself
The truth is waiting to be uncovered
What will be discovered
I don't know
From inside myself I feel in humility
That wondrous sense of awe within my mind,
A special transcendence into tranquillity.
My memories rise to the surface to remind,
I’ve lost reality in the silence.
Travel through recollections of the past to find
My childhood, that distant, sweet time of innocence
Never alone, imagination led
Me to fantasy lands where truth made no sense.
I did not have to dream tucked snugly in a bed,
I could journey anywhere in the world
Solitude, for me, never has held any dread
For I was happiest when I sat small and curled
Safe, while in my head adventures swirled.
Years later, solitude became a welcome friend,
As children clamoured hungry for their tea.
Mind frazzled by the day, I’d stand at my wits end
Then find a solution, distract them with TV.
Find solace in the kitchen, meal in pan,
Stare out at the garden with eyes that did not see.
Drift away to the whirring of extractor fan,
Not see jumbled toys piled beside the shed.
There was no direction for wilful my mind ran
Until a noise reminded me, kids to be fed,
Interrupted dreaming, no time to brood;
Children’s teas, husband’s dinner, bath then up to bed.
Oh what luxury the chance of solitude
Snatched moments in busy days, a short interlude.
Now solitude stretches from morning until night,
And in early hours of creeping morning
In the peace of darkness I like best to write.
Inspiration often comes as day is dawning
Shining brightly, golden as the sky,
The birth of a new day often ideas spawning.
Now I can be alone I do not have to try
Sitting in a crowded room, walking in a field,
I’ve learned to view with outer and inner eye.
Solitude, that place to chaos never yields
For it is the essence of blissful life,
Often I find that my sanity it shields.
It keeps me safe from all the daily strife,
And brings to me peace of mind when evil runs rife.
In an innate world, the brain is beautiful.
Being two percent of the body mass, the brain requires about twenty
percent of its oxygen and calories.
The most beautiful image ever seen is the brain normal functions.
So when you are at your wits end, remember that sound understanding is a
beautiful place to be.
Your brain is majesty.
I know this because of the abnormality that can manifest when you do not use
common sense.
This takes away from intellectual power.
You are therefore, diffused.
The mind is encompassed.
Supreme exquisiteness that boons the utmost splendor is the brain.
Use it wisely.
The superficial element of the brain is like imagery seen.
Information is process to enhance memory.
Through telepathic means, your senses thrive.
Manifestations of colorful or colorless montage are visualize.
Let your mind take control.
Live your life as bursts of insight to attain positivity while acquiring the
guidance needed.
All know the story of the dead brain.
The woman revived it with a base of knowledge.
She stemmed it via the occipital lobe.
Then she found it a body to raise above.
The brain begins to function normally.
The human was magnificent to see.
What are the metaphors?
A brain is nothing but a scheme.
The schematic brain is allegory.
The brain encompasses the mind.
The mind forms symbolism.
This is where your reality becomes your thinking.
Your clown frown is on.
Your mouth hangs open.
You are a click of hyperactivity.
You win arguments but you lose disagreements.
Your vicissitudes are with your anticyclones and nadirs.
You know that the world is in a depressive state.
Foster good will to cultivate empowerment.
Therefore, bringing forth the most beautiful image of all normal
preoccupations of the brain.
_______________________|
PENNED ON JULY 02, 2014!
Brainstorming (For Me) Generates "Writer's Block"
Lesson obstruction,
but more so an over
whelming flood of ideas
makes dredging, conceiving
than giving birth
to an amenable notion
more difficult than grabbing,
(even a tony tiger) by the tail,
who readily admits
said titled quasi moniker
denoting onset, sans
(to experience authorial dearth)
of satisfactory acceptable theme
(first to pinpoint, than expound)
more accurate generalization
cerebral struggle
regularly visits this Earth
ling, when embarking upon
a literary creative enterprise,
thus gluttonous analogy
to swollen girth
after gorging ravenous
appetite on verge
to keel (crushing
screened iron curtain garrison)
over 'pon arduously
(belching at every
step, viz process),
while lumbering
to heavenly hearth,
(a Homeric Odyssey) filling
the dining hall with mirth,
thus, I hoop fur
ewe dear reader,
spending your time
whiz wool worth
the effort receiving insight about,
how this logophile really
haint goot much clout
to boast, (nor doth,
he...wrack his mind
to coon sitter) himself devout
lee gifted, (cuz...he aint),
nor does yours truly
make pretenses to flout
any arrogance, bombast,
conceit, et cetera,
yet avers pain
staking effort
(akin to sinking grout)
to plug up gushing geyser of
superfluous excess bursting,
competing, and exploding
beyond capacity of this lout
finding me (a
piggish porcine – person)
hogtied with no
recourse but to pout
reaching pig tailed wits end,
as pertains to this poetic scout,
who welcomes inspirational uber lyft
through swiftly tailored
harried sty hill.
Sitting on a park bench watching the children play
Lost and alone how does he make it through the day
A bottle by his side that’s hidden from eyes that see
Wishing the day would end but no one hears his plea
Homeless by choice and a drunkard by trade
His mind in turmoil and his heart so dismayed
Sad and alone the man’s life needs some reprieve
The man gets up slowly he’s decided to leave
The worry and misery has gotten too much
He misses his children and his wife’s daily touch
They died in a car wreck running from the abuse
His drinking was to blame along with a very short fuse
He walked away from the bench with a tear in his eye
He’s at his wits end so he gives death a try
No one will miss him or at least that’s what he thinks
He’s merely a homeless, beaten down man that drinks
He runs into the street screaming and yelling it’s the end
But before he got hit an Angel God did send
He was knocked to the ground saved by Gods grace
When the shock wore off he recognized the face
The face of the Angel was that of his wife
She was sent at that moment to save the mans life
She told him she forgave him it was part of Gods plan
She said she loved him dearly and would see him again
As fast as she appeared she was gone with the wind
The man broke down crying for the Angel God sent
He realized he was loved the drinking fogged up his mind
He was going through life as though he was blind
At that very moment he got up from the street
Dusting off his clothes he’s no longer in defeat
He threw down the bottle and thanked God above
For sending an Angel the one he did love
So now when he sits to watch the children play
He reads his Bible to help get him through the day
Now God’s by his side and he lets the world see
That God saved a wretch and God heard his plea