Best Leaching Poems
Poetry tears ..
Crystalline ants march down my face
Like little soldiers they line up in formation
communicating with their feelers
words drip drip drip onto the page
Leaching out
Spreading a message…
Are you paying attention to what they say
As they splash from the puddles of my mind
They run run run
f
r
e
e
f
a
l
l
i
n
g
until the ink is dry
Poetry Fill in the Blank Contest Sponsored by Poet Destroyer A
04~30~16
Categories:
leaching, emotions, metaphor, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
The ooze keeps flowing; bleeding, the earth cries,
"Someone help!! Stop the leaching; stop the black death!!"
Cover the wounds of greed, cover the sickness.
Help the innocent lives, being destroyed by this flow.
Pulsing, life of the USA, our heartbeat is weakening with each gallon lost.
Who will revive the country? Who is our super hero? Who has the courage?
Black gold has turned to our death.
**Thank God for our mothers, family and friends.
God in heaven, hear my plea, give the engineers the knowledge to stop the oil flow
into the Gulf and help the sea life to escape. Keep the people safe who work and live
on the coast and restore the economy of the USA. Forgive us our sins, keep us safe,
praise you for your blessings!! I pray in Jesus's name, Amen Thank you Jesus!!
Categories:
leaching, angst, faithlife,
Form:
Narrative
Kill the Silent One
(Silent Killer)
He has invaded, unseen
Lurking and silent
Evil destroying one and all
From cell to cell
Crawling underneath
Leaching blood and soul
Smiles are murdered
Futures destroyed
Families ruined
The silent one is a killer
Who must be killed
The order has been given
Command centre now on full alert
Maps perused and studied
Strategies contemplated
The invasion...........
Will be at early dawn
Men prepare their battle gear
The landing party both excited and nervous
Life depends on them
Ones death also looms
They have no guilt
No fear
For whom shall be killed
The silent one's days are numbered
Victory is their only option and concern
War has been declared
And
We shall overcome
The silent one
The dawn is approaching
The men kit up in their uniforms
Preparing equipment, double checking their instruments
They march forth ready to do to battle
At dawn, as the brightness above shines down upon them
They enter the theater of operations
Weapons ready
Doctors in full dress
Scrub nurses ready for action
Technicians monitoring vital signs
The battle has begun
More saline, clamps, increase IV, Scalpels
Blood stains the heroes of the moment
The end, a silence, a satisfaction, a tear
This patient can be declared
Cancer free
The silent one was murdered
Cancer removed
Life restored
Family rejoices
Tears and kisses
This battle won
Categories:
leaching, cancer, health, hope, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
The lights have fallen
to nightbreak.
There, on the sharp horizon.
Cracked open.
Leaching
pastel peach...
(Or is it apricot?)
...into the dimming blue.
The moon,
two stars -
aligned,
in a line.
Three drops of rain;
frozen in their falling.
An overnight shower,
lasting longer than it did...
By the tiny grace
of an unseen spider;
her webwork
holding these three,
three pieces of rain -
up to the fading moonlight
as dawn conspires to interfere
with the colors she is daily born in.
The white brings blue.
The day brings night.
The night brings dew.
I long for you.
In the long days,
in the longer nights.
In the dark,
in the light.
If I’m lucky,
in my ache,
I’ll be suspended
for a moment more.
Between heaven.
Between earth.
Consumed by starlight.
Embracing dark, forestalling dawn.
Awash in moonlight.
Categories:
leaching, love, moon, romantic love,
Form:
Free verse
Such a weight, these boulders of depression.
Carrying them has become a useless, sad obsession...
A way to define the core of self, the Inner Being
Only talk of lightening the load, no thought of ever freeing...
A soul's place is through the void, to be preserved forever in ice,
Ice of Blue hues and Nothings - so nothing to avoid.
Grey grit mixes with the mist of time expired. Dirty memories.
Several generations based on the same pattern.
Reproduced but not rewired.
Currents lost in cul de sacs and weeping men in doorways,
Bottled laughter auctioned off then vapourised by sun's rays.
Tell me this, TELL me the story -
is man aglow, or does he bask in God's Glory?
The wonderings and whisperings of those who need to blend.
No-one can figure out who is foe and who is friend.
Hearts breaking with audible cracks while demon's chew on pain,
keeping anger as their snacks.
Leaching colour from the world around.
Searching till every weakness is found - preying on insecurities and lust
till the last bones are but powder and dust.
Endless Grey is all I see.
Even my shadow has departed from me;
But I stand straight and hold myselt tall -
never moving in case I should fall.
Don't look left, and don't look right lest fear attacks your need for flight.
Loose the soul, cut silver threads for Divinity swings low.
Don't end the game before it's begun, take care to walk it slow...
Walk it slow for those who lag behind and fast for those who run.
Every searching till you find...
The Meaning of The One.
Categories:
leaching, depression, faith, introspection, life,
Form:
I don’t have a blueprint,
just this smudged version
of what she would look like,
an impression in a shop windowpane,
just as the light catches her in mid-thought.
To recreate, I must fillet an idea until
it is just a pulse, a blood surge,
a milky image of smoke;
I must work on her from the inside,
teasing out strands of mutual desire
from slim neck bones
and a tidal whelm.
My hands are palms outward and kneading;
a kind of questioning masturbation -
that is the gentlest way
to daub such imaginings into prayer.
Maybe I could chafe that conceit, like fresh
Virginia leaf between my fingers,
dunk her in a glass of Folonari Valpolicella
then place the wad between my gums,
chawing on it until she takes shape in my mouth.
No need to ever take her out,
she will disappear soon enough
into a space reserved only
for dwindling morning stars.
Perhaps she will suicide
on high-tension wires. An electricity
flaring her into a wind-blown gawkish appearance.
The sculptor in me leaves a fatal wink in this ideal,
one that will metamorphose into something
too fair for my skin-leaching hands,
too transient for still-life.
Then, when all is said and done,
she will simply remain this poem,
an on-going motif,
one that will surprise me again and again,
as I glimpse her once more
through a forever blurred shop window.
Categories:
leaching, poetry,
Form:
Blank verse
By Laura Dee Battle
November 15, 2014
When I held your hand
Did you ever understand?
Could it be the way our stars align?
I prooved to be a flawed design
Did it show in my blue eyes?
I could have been the perfect bride
Never thought it'd be that way
I would've had much more to say
I should've been just as you are
Couldn't be much more bizarre
Did you see all that pain in my eyes?
See through my perfect alibis?
For you the makeup is your face
To them it's my mark of disgrace
When all you want falls out of reach
Identity is constantly breached
The fear on your face is leaching out
The seeds of doubt that suddenly sprout
Growing hate when the skies are grey
Loving my SELF despite what they say
Maybe one day I'll find they're right
Their way may too hard to fight
But that will be the day that I die
The final bed on which I lie
I'm begging you to save me please
Laura Dee; the man I'll never be
My breath is cold as the coming winter snow
But my heart is no longer six feet below
For the first time at night
I might be all right
Hope might be the only word
To finally stray from the mindless herd
...
I open my Virgin eyes to spotless sunshine
Now that I know her warm lips are mine
She is just like me; so free from our disease
Destinies for memories between the burning trees
Categories:
leaching, butterfly, change, future, gender,
Form:
Rhyme
I think that I shall have a drink
and toast to you and all you think
'bout love & hate & art & war &
what this life is really for.
Giving, taking, making, breaking
lonely hearts club band;
reaching, preaching, teaching, leaching
blood sucking beggars with outstretched hands.
I think that I shall have a stink
and tell the world before I blink
that all is well as well can be
So kiss my glass and bow to me.
Just below my drunken stem
Connected to my brain, my friend
You know the one that makes you bumble
and people laugh each time you stumble.
Down upon your royal spot
Licking your wounds with all you've got
Until you get right back up again
With a head that aches & pounds & spins.
And I think that I shall pour another
in honor of my departed mother
and dad as well who passed away
Here's to where they are today.
Be they high up in the sky
Or somewhere quite unfathomed
Beyond our wildest hopes and dreams
And the completely unimagined.
Where now I reek & no longer speak
from too much of this brew
where the ice is melting rapidly
on folks like me and you.
So one last toast before we're ghosts
and life was a sweet chardonnay...
Here's to those who brought us here
And all their love along the way.
Categories:
leaching, dad, farewell, memory, mother,
Form:
Rhyme
"The Impersonator"
Discovered on karaoke night
A few friends gave him a dare
To imitate the star he thought most of
For a hundred bucks if he cared
He got up on stage and sang with a whimper
It was his first time under pressure
To the boos and the heckles
This was not in good measure
With nothing to lose he got rid of his fright
Before he said a good night to all
He picked up the pace, to Usher he would sing
That is if he had the gall
Getting better he was with the rhythm
Showing people what he hadn't given them yet
A well oiled machine oh yes
He was determined to win that bet
Dancing around with dynamic class
There was no stopping him now
His associates took big drinks of the liquor
Losing all that money they were going to have a cow
His voice box was a storage crate
Filled with tons of jovial surprise
'Give me that money' he said
That they did with new found awe in their eyes
He was good they retorted
You should go on tour
Unless you have other talents better than this
Say a desk job somewhere, but god what a bore
He went around impressing people
The man and the image were becoming closer
For the joy how it started
It was actually hard work to be good and not a joker
There were no problems being an entertainer
Some time went by with growing popularity
Admiration built on another person's fame
There was no problem leaching serendipity
Then one day he grew so big
And the man himself showed up
He was about to knock him in the face
But saw he was still just a pup
A youngster with nothing else to do
This moment built up consternation
Stealing efforts off the artist's image
He hoped that it started out as admiration
It did though, so he punched him not
In fact he started blushing, for imitation is flattery
A major reason he picked the man in the first place
The issue resolved itself without assault or battery
They decided to go on tour together
The differences would be minor
Covering his sick days and vacations many a time
The copy cat would not live finer
For a long time they lasted taking over for each other
The secret would go with them forever
To give them a bond of deception on the audience
Their ties no one could sever
Categories:
leaching, dedication, devotion, night, people,
Form:
Rhyme
**Clerihew**
Paula Sinner
Here comes Paula Sinner
quick, hide all of the liquor!
Broke, leaching without a job
yet and still she is a snob!
Jared Pickett
5/23/2014
Asavvy1
Categories:
leaching, art, humor,
Form:
Clerihew
At last, a welcomed light Autumn breeze,
Whistling passed steepled roofs,
Gently lifting branches of the bowing sycamore trees
Lining dull gray sidewalks still toasty warm
From the sweltering heat of the day before;
Departing summer flees threads of deep purple clouds
Leaching westward from the eastern sky,
Inky streams clawing their way into lighter shades of dusk,
The new season has cast her dye.
Categories:
leaching, autumn,
Form:
Ode
Tormented by writers block
I stare for hours at the clock
Leaching tears, I feel so blue
My missing muse - where are you?
Form J Jeuju Contest
Sponsored by Broken Wings
03~21~17
Categories:
leaching, muse, poetry, words,
Form:
Jueju
The encumbrance of
life
Copious and
never-ending
A leaching
gangrenous wound
In need of
dismemberment
From his torpid soul
The medicinal
elixirs have raped
the mind
And replaced it with
a dense syrup
That makes
cognition, onerous
He cares for nothing
Feels nothing—is
nothing
A means to an end
Has him captivated
Fixated on the task
Relief is at hand
But he lacks the
strength and courage
Categories:
leaching, dark, depression, sad,
Form:
Free verse
Launch the lecture,
tear me down
to never build me up,
you couldn't build a wall
if a thousand bricks were around.
Time after time,
you watched me fall
as you pushed me over the ledge,
I watched your anger swell.
Living in your shadow
is my personal hell,
memories of a tomorrow
that never came,
I'll never be the same.
I won't let it be in vain.
I look out of the window
into the night,
that room fills me with fright,
this space is still
so full of hate.
The memory of you is more than I can bear,
sometimes it feels like you're still there.
You terrify me,
still to this day
more than anyone sees.
Remembering what shouldn't be,
memories flood the night
through the trees.
These windows hold so many stains,
crying on a floor that
holds so much pain.
Seeping, leaching my soul,
when I crumble
I don't feel whole.
Remembering your face
makes me stumble,
it doesn't carve my path,
even if a memory is all I have.
When it doesn't feel real,
was it a bad dream?
You infiltrate my dreams
in so many shapes.
I fear the end,
what will seal my fate.
I see your smile,
that's what I hate,
so bad it gives me the shakes.
I miss what never was,
a life without you in it.
I pray that one day
it will quit
and I can say goodbye.
I'm afraid of fate,
of ceasing to exist
at the hand of another.
My dreams detonate,
the violence created
from pain so deep seated,
memories plague me,
afraid to take the leap.
Dedicated to my abusive ex.
Categories:
leaching, abuse,
Form:
Rhyme
Inside The Mysterious Enigmatic Fragmentary...
Mortal Mind Of Matthew Scott Harris
ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!
Seedy gobbledygook ergot
visibly argot bubbled, burbled, bustled...forth
yea...give garbled, jangled, warbled shoutout
if ye doth render
mug gadabout totally confounding,
this unfettered voluminous confection
ruff lee in toto as sample
doggone freelance gargon
sublime red rover - misaligned with
twenty first century time
emerging, fishtailing, kvetching,
slithering, whipsawing
during springtime
thaw - oozing out primordial slime,
schlepping aboard bissel mishuga train
while kibitizing with longfellow
ghost hosts Bartleby,
thee Herman Hermits,
and Stray Cats caterwauling
scrivener circumlocution showtime
evidences troubadour prima facie
tremendous struggle rustling rational rapport,
ruminating, citing his dismal schooltime
track record muddled, and hence
questing to cobble a rhyme
distilling, harvesting, and
leaching (out pulpy, knotty,
Max Headroom Ancien regime
filmy... gray matter) in realtime,
while strains of Ragtime echo
from late nineteenth century
tin pan alley, nsync, linkedin
cubist, dadaist, existentialist...
mine poetic melange jerry rigs
flashes random discordant phrases
kickstarting hotmail...faintly
analogous to processing quicklime
mucking with abstract alphabetic
mire ranks as playtime
forging whimsical tactical trippy thoughts,
nursing eternal idealistic Earthly peacetime,
worrying away looming mortality,
noshing post death as pastime,
welcomes input and alien abduction – ME,
mine "FAKE" existence, sans charade,
facade, masquerade onetime pantomime,
no second act allowed, nor
revising questionable tour de force
I claim NO pièce de résistance, nor overtime,
asper waning game
of thrown away Life
approaches nighttime haven
soon...forever rest in peace
surrendering requisite burnt offerings,
sans (cremated ashes) - meantime
fete grateful dead
scythe lent hoodlums on warpath
to incite bedlam
postprandial mealtime prayer final -
deathly hallowed gleeful grimace
witnessing successful electroshock therapy
of yours truly emotionally frozen
decades long comatose state
thankfully oblivious, when impending
curtain call signals finis!
Categories:
leaching, addiction, age, appreciation, art,
Form:
Narrative