Leaches Poems | Examples

Wintry World

In the gathering gloom
of a winter's afternoon
as the light leaches
from the room
I'm more prone or inclined
as comforts tug
to recline supine
beside the hearth
here on the rug
with a good book
than step outdoors
as if you would take a look
outside the window
should you care
it's more than slightly
chilly out there
with snowflakes
blowing in the air
better on the floor I think
with a hot drink near the fire
until my tired eyes start to close
in repose and so go upstairs where I retire

Question?

Sometimes things get lost in translation
Sometimes people just do not listen,

Things have been pushed down deep within
Can they look past what they see as a sin?

I know all the dangers and I've heard all the speeches,
I know most turn into snakes and leaches...

Open arms, open mind
Some lost, some blind...

Dark paths are the ones I know best
This is me now, I'm not like the rest.

I'm not going to try to convince
I'm no knight or a prince...

You would think by now that I'd be numb,
I'm willing to accept whatever may come...

Too bad there's no reset button once something has been said
No way to turn back on this path that I've led.

I'm not looking for answers, I was looking for ends
All alone for too long, no family or friends.

What is a lie if the question was never asked
Completely me... never masked.

Temper Whispers-SHM

Written: November 17, 2023 For Charles Messina Contest
           ___________________________________________

In peace of mind and unwavering pride
Draw out your inner disgruntled callow
Expunge ailing masks and set them aside
Shackled and phony leaches start shallow

Untamed freedom leaves a rage of delight
Lightning strikes when volition avails reign
As the noise of fists and yells echoes fight
It implies launching rough assaults again

This momentary gladness won't last long
Dark distress derides its way to the fight
And celebrates its mocking with zest strong
Frenzied fractured fragments into full-sight

Constraintis like an itch that chafes the mind
Shields the vile impulse that we must all bind

gladness won't last long
expunge ailing masks aside~
untamed freedom roars.

Shackled leeches start shallow, rage of lightning strikes~constraint chafes the mind

Charlottes Web

With animosity I endure each pain
Read each word as they describe disdain
Do not compare or look for blame
Distill yet comforts release the gain 
The outer world always preaches 
while villains they reign like leaches
Do not give solace or even fame
Realize the love that comes from your name
Though long placed aside inside it stayed
Though only through words love was made

I recognize my loss by absence named
Yet I returned remembering our game
Time has past and it’s my still my move
I pause to think how to enter the groove
I cannot blame cold shoulders for my desertion
I still after time I held on to my devotion
And try to caress with words that charm
I try to take away the alerts and harm
And reach for times to reminisce 
Use you as the tool my Muse gives bliss

You replace the widowers loss
As well as take place 
of the Ex’s I’ve crossed 
But in this outer world you remain
At least I hope that to regain
I don’t know what we are
Yet I know not insane
I could be your doll you be my game
And still resolve our lonely pain
While being one another's eternal flame

Bandits

Emotional bandits
Waiting, looking, hunting for
A drip of emotion
To abuse, to make fun of
To disrespect
Like leaches they are
Ready to suck until there is no more
Emotional bandits
Preying on emotions
They themselves showing none
Inhumane as they are
I refuse to be like them
So, I’ll hide my emotions from them
While I nurture the human in me.

Wendy Nipas

Son Soaked In the Sun

The Knight was knit on a knockout night. 
A batch of bare bears within blissful sight. 
Right rowed rode on rigorous royal insight. 
Whither or wither, writ warned of a worn write.   
 
Douse the drip and dowse to drum up dew. 
Alas allowed the altar rite to alter aloud knew.
Wax warmer upon waves of aqua blue. 
Caught in the caudle caudal circuit of one or two.

Halting hair like an idol, idle as a hush hare. 
Hearsay's hollows handle heinous and flare. 
Can a sane person seine in a water glare? 
I fear that a note knob rejects the nob affair.

Leaches of joy leech open or open-free. 
I will not feign the fane's favor as a feint fee. 
Dazes detained the deal to droop a drupe as a flea. 
If a blast blows a blue home, it finds a way to flee. 


Written: October 09, 2022

Homophone Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Hat Bueckert

Dull Moments

Dull Moments

I feel numb. 
My wits have been fried, at the ends... 
It happened, more than once. 
It was a little each time I watched the TV, 
and they talked about the "free". 
Who are they speaking of? 
Who are they talking about?

Free money for those that are too lazy to work. 
Free money for those that came here, to do harm. 
Free education, and a free vacation, 
at the expense of all the citizens
who came to stare too long into the box. 
They are all asleep now, 
and repeat the process, 
of voting in... 
and toting the baggage
of the elite. 

Building a better today than yesterday? 
Do you buy that now? 
Do you need a cow? 
Are you short of milk... 
for your children?

Better, 
What is better about today? 
High food, high gas, high cost of shelter, 
illegal's and wild beagles on the streets, in tents for homes
and no one to pay the bill, much less the taxes or the tip, 
to get their fill. 

Back, 
to the "basics"... are all in their speeches... 
like leaches, they make up new ways to draw blood. 
"Believe in us, and do as your told."
The mantra of old, 
rings true... 
even today
in every way!

A Stove of Ash and Coal

Although it matters not anywhere else my heart crushes for what it knows better to have...
I am overreacting and incapable of concluding the ordeal inside myself...
I know how vain and futile such an allowance of mind into obsession is...
Indeed a desperate man void of inspiration leaches on any hope...
This inspires the fire within...
Long a go the fire warmed my soul now so cold...
A stove of ash and coal...
How long shall I dwell within this fantasy so real?

The Candle

I am the Angel of Death
I am Nosferatu
I am a whisper of breath

Coldness grabs me and holds
I am coldness itself
The icy waters swirl around me

I am death and I am cold
The cloak of darkness
Enfolds with black soil

All toil comes to an end
But not to rest
As darkness descends 
As light leaches out

Grey faded landscape
Grey faded soul
Wispy cold and thin
Without grasp

And as the darkness 
Blossoms with impossible black
A small flicker ignites
And drives the darkness back

A small candle is lit
A small flame so soft
Almost of no substance

But darkness flees from it
Greyness hides
In cold corners

Small yet immense
Warmly fluttering
It dances defiantly

And close to it a face
A face so calm
As a bible rest
On the open palm

And darkness flees
But stops to listen
As light and life
And hope has risen

Running From

Creep of extremism leaches in bloodstream, numbing
Route of innate thought unpenetrated, retains nothing
Sacred to the self, - stiff agendas pose as omniscient
Obscures own findings, carves our fragile opalescent 


Ignores the phosphor we all hold, outlooks pertinent 
Absorbs with proffer of doctrines contract penchant 
Squashed compulsion, thwarted inside tight quarter
Squeezes dry the yearn for a gyrated circuit's quaver


Penance is a method administered by axiom rations
Ranks routinely recant individual's intuition ravishing
Shrouded rigmarole causes comprehension to shrivel
Oppresses pirouette quick swing of our mind's swivel 



          
              6th March 
            Trip the Trap

A People In Cahos

Electoral mortification
The ego of one man
chaotically divided a nation.
Hypnotically humiliated 
and brought its people into dissolute hatred,
plucking each other limits.
Dehumanized the intelligence of great minds.
This team of trumpers!
imperious loud mouths, 
puissant leaches stumping on others,
with ominous filthy words.
Despicable regard for biblical equal.
Do not unto others what you would not do unto yourself.
Leave the hate, 
it’s like a malignant tumor, 
it consumes time to no avail. 
Color is just a shade,
Blood in man is indeed unique,
whether it was brown skin Jesus, dark skin Moses you or me. 
as it retains a unified bond beyond us.
Someday,
I may need you and you may need me
for something grater than - 
this evil influence crawling into our lives.
Your cry and my cry the same, seeking comfort.          
©Al Juman -The "said" Poet, 11/25/2019

Love Letter From the Soul Lv

Warmth,

The other side has called
her winter's finally born
the geese are flying east
the pain has left her mark

X's no longer stay
they just go
as the hurt 
forages on
and eats their own

too much 
it's too much

burning darkened soot
pulling out the roots
it's death
by default (nobody's fault)
but that's what they beg

leaches getting wet
attached to every midnight song
and soliloquy

their favorites play 
continuously
conspicuously
on repeat

pull the plug
disembark the spark
set them straight
to the confessionals
but that's all a little too late

words are just words
no matter how arranged
or the author deranged

this good book says jump
another one says run
little Billy jumped off the bridge
bullies on soapboxes 
shooting guns
acting like skirtless nuns

sitting around the old wobbly card table
picking our hearts with dirty spades
it's not a game to be played

listen 

nature's call
a soothing lullaby

listen

shhhh

just listen

let it be
let us all be

free

Redemption Profaned

Bubbling up through the surface,
  one truth leaches out

Like a word long forbidden,
  oft whispered—it shouts

Rising up to the heavens,
  its message proclaims

“The eruption has started,
   redemption profaned”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2018)

A Long, Gray Season

It settles over the horizon,
gray, dark smears of gray,
and above it casts a pall
of overcast. Ominous it looms,
but no thunder comes,
it won’t come again until
spring warmth leaches back
into dry, dismal air.

Gray season has settled in,
from All Hallow’s Eve until
a distant day of fool’s,
It wraps the north, blots the sun
to a dim point of distant,
dying light.

The world starts as brown,
then flakes fall, sleet,
rain that freezes and dooms
drivers everywhere.
Brown to white, the white
mottles with the gray,
and all other colors fade,
save stalwart evergreens.

Cold comes, wraps around you,
gets within you.
Turn on lights to avoid it,
start fires to undo it,
warm showers to defy it,
but it’s there, pressing,
day after day, until you feel
that cold and gray are forever,
reason be damned.

It’s a long, gray season,
and it fits a gray mind.
So I rest, then I revel.

Saturday Night On the Terrace

"SATURDAY NIGHT ON THE TERRACE" 


run where there is only room 
to walk.
how else can you understand 
your strength?

put the possibilities up and 
create new steps.
the word will always be there
unlike the whores of the 
night.

although some whores stay in 
at night the blood for the 
leaches trailing behind them 
at every attempt to gain 
attention,
stays wet.

let the wind come in so it 
can blow and make them go.
isn’t the feeble attempt to 
gain a particular 
individual’s eyes pale?
isn’t it a miraculous 
coincidence that one
will follow every move just 
to gain access to her pussy?
but maybe here, there is no 
fight to gain access.
much more to go back and see 
if one can fit through that 
door.
we all grow from children, 
their curiosity of filth 
never fails.

**** or get off and shutter.

there isn’t an unexpected 
move in your chess game.
the darkness after the light 
is a clichéd move.

continue with the desperation 
as I continue with my 
laughter.

open the doors to the things 
that have been closed.

giants in a land of midgets 
make nothing but fairy tale.



By: Chicano Eddie
9232017

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