Earsplitting Poems | Examples

Holiday Fun

When snow falls children will make a snowman,
and with eyes and nose he becomes a man;
his nose is a carrot stick,
in goes his coal eyes click, click . . .
a scarf, a magic hat . . . a short lifespan !

That magic hat makes Frosty Snowman dance,
he wiggles, spins, twirls, and can jump and prance;
can slide on the hills snow white,
but, Frosty is not too bright . . .
Frosty says kids . . . life is a game of chance !

And though the day is warm they run and play,
melting fast . . .  but will be back one cold day;
Frosty says fading, dripping,
yells in a voice earsplitting . . .
did you know kids . . .  that this is my birthday !

The Warmth of a Cold Heart

"It's time to go." 
Death's cold voice echoed through the cries of the crowd.
A kid of skin and bones in tattered clothes looked at death with much emptier eyes.
"I'm scared." The child trembled.
"What awaits me is void, filled with nothing but fear.
I want to be with my family, far from the noise of bombs and guns, 
from the earsplitting cries of victims."
Death reached out a cold hand.
"What awaits you is the pleasant heat of spring,
the warmth amidst the cold. You will suffer no more,
for you are now free from the exploits of war."

The Tests We Took

Out of all the tests we took, she said, the one I’m most worried about is your self-destructive tendencies and thoughts on suicide.
I shrugged and gave a sheepish grin. 
I don’t need you to worry about me, I said. 
I could always ask myself why.
Was it because of the numbness that never left my ever-cooling heart?
Or was it the earsplitting pain that hit my brain like a strike from the clouds?

Out of all the tests we took, she said, I’d consider keeping an eye on you. 
I looked up and began to laugh.
I don’t need to be watched like a child, I promised. 
She wasn’t amused. 
Did she want a goddamn confession from me?
Fine.
I confess to being alive. 
To living alone, trapped in my head, under the greyscale sky.

Out of all the tests we took, she said, I’m concerned for your safety. 
I glanced away with a bittersweet smile.
I don’t want you to be concerned, I reassured her.
I’ll be fine. 
I’ll be fine.
I’ll be fine.

I'M So Annoyed Just Looking At Her

That idiotic and exasperating, disturbing Rosanne Barr,
walking around gaudy and tasteless, acting like a star.
Blatantly obvious no sane person should be employing,
such an earsplitting voice, so obnoxious and annoying!


CLERIHEW CONTEST Poetry Contest
The Name Foresakes Me
July 21, 2018

Lickety-Split - Acrostic

Laying in my bed all cozy and warm, and
   inside the blankets my kitty cat snores, sweetly
captivating birds sing outside my window, and
      kitty cat pokes her head out and says,   M E O W !
Earsplitting and grating my alarm clock is blaring, and my
         telltale sleepiness is leaving my head,
yet, I linger in my bed-

snoozing . . . .
   peacefully, I snuggle deeper into my blankets, until
lickety-split, I shoot out of bed, screaming to no one
      I am LATE!  So hell bent and at full
tilt I am ready and leave-  kitty  y a w n s  on the bed.

________________________________
April 13, 2018


Poetry/Acrostic/Lickety-Split
Copyright Protected, ID 18- 1012- 705-01
All Rights Reserved.  Written Under Pseudonym.

The Noise

T errific and terrible, loud and unrelenting, I am suddenly
H ammered by a head splitting, grating screech, as the
E mergency Broadcast Signal blatantly blares from my TV.

N early every glass rattles and shatters, because the
O N button is stuck on its highest setting possible!
I try in vain to find the clicker to lower the volume
S o the earsplitting nightmare of noise will lower, but it keeps on
E scalating, out of control, while I cover my poor ears in agony.




Written on 3/7/2017

Migraine of a Razor Blade Grave

I fell into a pit, dirty grave,
lined entirely with razor blades,
that should sting when they slice
my newspaper skin that bleeds only grey,
but pain, there is none, never have I felt so numb
and never have I thought so much 
as when I was lain in a rotted blank sap and rusted sharp metal.
As they filled up my grave with dead leaves and stale bubblegum
all I did was stare, at the stars and the moon, and I wondered why,
everyone always saw them as companions in the night sky,
when all of their songs were sung millions of miles apart
and I pondered why no one else ever questioned
the beat of their own heart and why only my head is the one who rains in red.
And when my tomb was almost closed, my thoughts were disrupted,
out rang screams, that sounded like mine but my mouth was stuck shut.
As the hole sealed and smothered my lungs,
the screams, they crescendoed, they carried on 
even when my conscious was all but gone 
its earsplitting screech went beyond what was left and stayed.
An eternity, it rings, a migraine for my soul that sits in its grave.

The Woman With the Muffled Voice

Unhappy, unappreciated, underestimated.
Born to be weak.
Breed to be inferior.
Cursed to be abused.
Governed by emotions.
Enslaved to the kitchen.

"This is your life,"
she was told.
The injustice hid behind
 that grotesque phantom-
CULTURE.
Centuries of rotten tradition
smothered her development.

The woman with no voice.
She screams within.
The sound jailed 
behind the bars of her lips
An inaudible plea.
Earsplitting silence.
Shrieking tranquility.

But- one day.
Her song will jail break.
The beautiful butterfly entombed 
in a soundproof cocoon,
will emerge.

The woman with the muffled voice
will transform
into the woman with a deafening roar!

Emotional Turbulence

 The voices grow louder,
Intensifying with emotion, anger lining every aggressive word.
My insides squeeze tighter as the vitriol poisons my mind,
How does such hostility exist?
As the sound of hatred deepens,
The feelings strengthen their grip, like a vice,
So tight, I can no longer breathe

All the negative emotions I have ever felt, fill me,
Threatening to overflow.
So long have they been banished…
Enough. No more!

My mouth opens,
An earsplitting scream of pain and suffering shatters the silence,
Sobs of sorrow and grief wrack my body,
Murderous shrieks of anger and hate,
Wretched cries of self-pity and self-loathing,
Poison the air.

 Now, free of these emotions.
 But the monster still exists
Within the dark depths of my mind.

Warfare's Legacy

They came upon the dreary place 
Where crickets were silent and owls were mum
And washed away the innocence of grace
With swift movements of their haunted mace 
Whistling the tune of fatality’s anthem 
They came upon the dreary place 
Whose repugnant steps were danger’s embrace 
Scrape the scum of corrupt global bottom
And washed away the innocence of grace
Earsplitting shots through the silent chase
But they fought for their restricting freedom
They came upon the dreary place 
Normality’s people have evaporated without a trace
Because the Devil’s game is always handsome
And washed away the innocence of grace
When rotting corpses accumulate in the showcase
Hundreds of raped souls scream carpe diem 
They came upon the dreary place
And washed away the innocence of grace.

Summer Dress

Summer dress she sews
Until her fingers bleed
Mending and mourning 
Memories that will never be
Earsplitting new silence
Running through each stitch

Dress, mustard colored with stars
Embroidered with sadness, by confusion
A nightmare from which she can’t awaken
The last thing she will ever wear 
Her summer dress made in grief

Death came for her too soon
Roses, white, will rest on her
Embraced by heaven’s angels
She is beautiful in the summer dress
Stitched by her sorrow stricken mother

A Little Night Music

We had a good time 
Guys from Woodside, Sunnyside
Greenpoint and Astoria
Leaning on each other
Weaving through the crowds
Towards the exits
Leaving the club
Squeaking out just before closing time
Headed towards the corner joint
Open all night.

Waiting on line
Shuffling
Gotta go
So bad
But first
Stomach bursting for
Cheap burgers
Greasy and salty
Buy ‘em by the bag
Eat them on the way home.

Dark night of New York
All around us
Rich’s man town 
Separated from 
Working class
By rivers
Zip codes
And generations of mistakes
Nobody talks about it
Nothing to discuss 
Just a fact of life
Work with your hands
That’s how things are
If you complain
Nobody listens.

The place is crowded
It’s a late night circus
Counter people rush
Orders fly 
From a hundred directions
A razzle dazzle of
Loud voices
Earsplitting laughter
A fight starts
In a rear booth
Irish and Italian guys square off
Just like generations ago
A common refrain ushering 
Saturday night to Sunday morning
With a little night music.

Death Became His Exposure

The bullet entered his flesh,
it was one of the most
earsplitting sounds he had ever heard,
it shattered his ghost,
and it scattered his speech, word for word,
as the gun slipped from his palm,
as his mind struggled with his calm,
the souls within the room
were clutching their ears,
as the haunting spirits felt the boom,
and they sensed the fears.
He shot himself standing,
it was painful and demanding,
He had little time,
so he tried to cover up a crime,
but he couldn’t
 and to release him from the pain, it wouldn’t,
so he simply had no way out,
that was what the shooting was all about.
He felt it necessary to maintain utter composure,
as death became his exposure.

Big Apple

You walk fast 
New York,
Heavy stampede
Steps
The concrete ground
You stand.
I married you
In April,
Costly 
Earsplitting
Streets 
Awaken me.
Global breath
Aromas
Vibrant
Sparkling eyes 
Vanished evermore. 
I’m back,
We have matured.

Seeds That Don'T Grow

a dory caught off guard in the billow of a wild frontier,
 the south paw always an adverse of nature, 
tranquil can be the fire, 
but the the sparrow will mature, 
a dormant trammel becomes earsplitting when broken, 
now freedom promised as a perpetual token,
 in the splendor of the petal the truth does not appear,
 cripple the word and clarity becomes obscure,
 deception weaved from inner fear, 
not even gone and the cinerarium is in the picture,
 oh! look at the view,  raw are their souls preaching such an unholy scripture

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