Long Worrier Poems
Long Worrier Poems. Below are the most popular long Worrier by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Worrier poems by poem length and keyword.
A worrier cannot help but stress, when put to the test; A warrior delights in trials, that allow them to give their best; A worrier has self doubt and denies God's full control; A warrior submits to God, body, mind and soul; A worrier is anxious and uncertain of the outcome; A warrior takes rest in knowing all God's will be done; A worrier may look to God when things don't go their way; A warrior consults with God each and everyday; A worrier depends on their will and determination; A warrior depends on God through Jesus Christ's salvation; A worrier resent's and allows thoughts to turn barmy; A warrior repent's backed up by heaven's army; A worrier is afraid; A warrior is fearless; Which one will you be? A prisoner of the ways of the world or a spirit that is free? - No temporary experience, in life is a guarantee; Allow God to lead your life and control your destiny.
Facing facts was never where he excelled:
avoiding them, he flitted, like a blind bat
guided as by sonar past obstacles
crowding the dark cave of his existence.
Still, some sight sifted through his shuttered eyes.
Onlookers might have guessed
he was merely another smug fat cat
forever grinning at the luck
that put him where, secretly,
he wished he would never have arrived.
Appearances aside, he was terrified
by his own fragility and that of those he loved --
a worrier, he merely masqueraded,
a graying rabbit with a nervous nose,
cowering in corners into which he heavily hopped
at the drop of each and every hat:
his mild pink eyes as tightly closed as any bat's
against the sight of hatchets
which might be flashing through the black
toward his hairy, cringing neck.
Yes, I have been privileged to be a Good Samaritan, but I prefer to share about other Good Samaritans. Most friends and acquaintances that I have known have been and are 'Good Samaritans'. I take great delight in speaking of four of them who attended the wounds of others as well as my own.
I was a wounded worrier for having lost the house keys of a business client. I was more than a bit consoled after describing the awful day I had before the keys were recovered. He made my day when he said to me, "That Day Is Gone". I shall call him Mr. Forget It who became my Good Samaritan.
I was wounded in confidence until one Sunday morning in the church lobby a young teenager asked me if I was still hanging in there. His question gave birth to a response that shifted the confidence of my entire being and certainly changed something deep inside of me. I replied to him, "No, I'm not hanging in there; I have got the bull by the horns, and he's going down". I shall call that inspiring teenager Mr. Hang In There who also was my Good Samaritan.
We had secured a contractor to perform some work on our home. At the time, we were frustrated, disappointed, and barely recovering from a world wide economic collapse. We had a price agreement for the repairs; and when the contractor finished, I handed him the check. He refused the check by saying, "I don't want this check; I don't need this check. At that point I was overwhelmed, because he had donated all his services, both parts and labor. I shall call him Mr. Surprise, who became my Good Samaritan.
The transmission on our vehicle had gone its last mile. We were deeply worried about the heavy cost of parts and labor that such a repair would require. The repair man was referred by a friend. When he arrived to assess the situation, the first words from his mouth were, "God told me not to charge you". I shall call him Mr. No Charge, my Good Samaritan.
11142017 PS Contest, The Good Samaritan, Craig Hawkins
I've never been much of a worrier,
Others do that far better than I,
Nor am I renowned as a scurrier,
Which is not to imply I don't try.
My small circle of close friends and loved ones
Is diminishing one at a time,
And one of these days
I'll wake up to discover
That it's my turn, and I'm next in line.
But if, indeed, that's the next big adventure,
I hope it's a pleasant surprise.
I'd love to prove, or disprove,
All the theories I've had
About life and love,
And good and bad,
And wisdom and learning,
And ethics and such,
That faith is a pillar
And not just a crutch.
But, of course, I’m not worried,
I don't do that, you see.
"Que será, será",
What will be, will be.
But on the off chance that there is a hereafter,
I'd like to reserve a small space there for me.
And should any of you get there before I do,
Try to grab us a nice window seat with a view.
In my dreams I did great things
Sweet lullabies the moon sings
In my dreams I never lost my youth
Even if they echo a hidden truth
Perhaps I could have been great
But maybe that is still somehow my fate
Sometimes it's so hard to believe
When my anxiety I can't relieve
In my dreams I was a warrior
In my life I was simply a worrier
So afraid of days to come
But I missed what I came from
I watch waves crash against the shore
And my old body has become so sore
Burdened with the weight of depression
Emptiness is all I feel might be my confession
In my dreams a child peered at the mirror
Seeing the future much more clearer
He became everything he promised not to
And it casts everything in pale blue
But everything I was before the buzz
Is still there buried beneath the fuzz
And with courage I can save my soul
As it is not yet as black as coal
In my dreams I am locked in a cage
The broken past leading to a deep rage
But if I escape I may finally turn a new page
So the curtain rises on my greatest stage
I may not be pretty nor very witty
But I am a man ready to rise in the city
And I'll finally make my dreams come true
In my dreams I finally came through
Before I became a worrier, a rebel, a Spartacus:
I remember listening to an orator on a city bus:
he criticized and enraged some arrogant characters;
he shouted harsh words to the deceiving charlatans,
exposing themselves as hallowed saints in a niche,
when they should have been thrown into a ditch!
Before I attempted to please others,
I realized how naive I was to offer praises:
I had one God to serve, not several gods
who took the appearance of pure divinity;
they had a shining halo over their heads...
ensuing much fear, accusing me of inequity!
Before I had a childish and overt personality,
I trusted anyone and laughed with anybody...
until their derision filled me up with anger;
I broke my connection, realizing it wasn't fair!
Before I diverged from the wrong and dangerous path,
I didn't recognize my naiveness, neither I felt bad vibes;
I helplessly fell into a deep ravine full of vicious vipers:
what spared me death was the laughter of Lady Macbeth!
A worrier will never lack
A reason for her worry
And if that gets resolved she'll find
A new one in a hurry.
Such people never drift along
Enjoying and relaxing
Since problems pop up everywhere
For psyches needing taxing.
An old-time phrase I've often heard,
Perhaps from my own mother,
Is "If it isn't one thing
You can bet that it's another."
The "it" is not identified
But clearly it's not good
And if it doesn't worry you,
Look out! Because it should!
I envy those who have the knack
To float without a care.
If all these things just disappeared,
I'd love to join them there.
Source material : The Hinduism classical mythology epic, The Mahabharata.
Arjuna, the great worrier of the Mahabharata epic,
stands transfixed at the fringe of Kurukshetra battlefield,
hears the thunder of thousand conch shells
announce the start of the valiant battle.
He lifts his heavy bow, but it slips from his hands.
His brave spirit falters,
for he sees in front his kins and mentors,
lined up to fight against him;
he ponders to win the war he needs to kill them.
Faced with humane predicament
the hero in him feels disheartened,
for the load of bravery is too heavy to bear,
urging him to exit the battlefield.
He asks his conscience in despair,
“what is the meaning of victory
if it entails killing the loved and revered ones.?”
He then hears the godly voice of his charioteer
that echoes the eternal truth :
“the soul is immortal and indestructible,
transcends birth and death.
Perform you duty with equanimity as a worrier,
for true karmic liberation lies in seeing oneself
as an artifact of divine will,
balancing the modes of success and failure.”
Transformed by the guidance of his charioteer,
Arjuna comes out of the emotional dilemma,
regains his mental acumen
that expands his vision beyond victory and defeat,
far away from the conundrum life and death
to perceive selflessly the need
for surrender to the supreme.
His gloomy mind is then illumined
by the gracious glare of dharma.
As he picks up his bow and arrow
for the fiercest of all battles,
he realizes that the toughest battle of life
is fought within the awakened soul.
Oh dear, I am not coming back,
I remember that pendant on your neck,
Your thoughts like the car lifted by a jack,
I’m remembering them while sitting on the deck.
I don’t know where I truly lack,
But you can know, by looking back.
As I know you’re waiting for me,
But what can I do? I am not free.
Looks like you never tried to talk,
Clear your direction, then try to walk.
From my side, every path is blocked,
I am not coming, you should’ve knocked.
Because you know everything—what it's about,
I stay mum, never try to shout.
Even if you care, I have a doubt.
Make it clear before everything fades out.
Now I am going away in a bout,,
Maybe I will win, or maybe it’s my route.
After all, you know how feelings grow,
Some stones this world will surely throw.
We just try to avoid and go,
But I think there's something you should know—
Don’t ever try to stop your flow.
We all have grown in love,
Just like a tender little cub.
We sometimes try to fly like a dove,
But often find ourselves in a reckless tub,
Stuck in what feels like a viewing hub.
I just wanted to get you out of it,
This world is hard; it tries to hit.
Like a mindless person, don’t try to be idiotic to fit,
You need to understand this world a little bit.
Now it’s up to you—try to avoid it or get it?
There are some reasons I am not coming back,
Remember my words—it’s a secret hack.
Every time you have to fight when they try to attack,
These words are gone, but never let them lack.
Keep your head up, and straighten your back.
These are the words I wanted to share,
Now I’m breaking my crust and building my core layer.
I know you’re still waiting for me there,
But I’m not coming back—there’s a war to bear.
You don’t know, I’m on the losing side,
Some soldiers are prisoners, some barely survive.
I’m on a tank, just taking a ride,
Hunting enemies down while they run and hide.
They always attack from the coward’s side,
But I know I’m enough—enough from my side.
Looks like a lonely smile, just maybe a only child
As my days go by, as my hour’s blossom
At times in this open space I’d rather play possum
In your presence my glass is full
Half and hour later your past in nearly consumed
Like concrete my emotions extract and expand
And when I’ve become more that we could bear
My life lead contract is what you demand
Looks like a lonely child, and could be the only smile
Perhaps we could throw time into reverse
Relax and undermine this unforgiving curse
If nothing at all seems any worse
Then we shouldn’t be privileged to hurt
Life, lice, more of timely disease
A worrier finally at ease
An escape requires the keys to theses haunted seas
The only pleasure that taunted me
Looks like a lonely smile, just maybe an only child
Should this daylight torment or burn my eyes
Would you pay to see my lessons learned through lies?
Should this carpet decide not to warm my feet
Then I shall prepare to watch my health swarm in defeat