Long Alarm Poems
Long Alarm Poems. Below are the most popular long Alarm by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Alarm poems by poem length and keyword.
Like to here a story, about the rabbit hole today
If claustrophobic, I’d advise please stay away
Still following, final warning just go back home
That’s better, finally I’ll holler down here alone.
Got an mri scan, and the tunnel was pretty grim
One of the old models, needed to ramrod me in
Ear plugs at the ready, the tube of nonexistence
Hammering starts up, mind numbing persistence.
Cannot move my arms, wedged along the sides,
Oh for love of god, I’ve gone and opened my eyes
Trying to look back out, but cannot move my face
Headfirst in a snakes oesophagus, totally encased.
Overwhelmed in panic, try to squeeze the alarm
Nothing happens is it broke, I’m being embalmed
Hopelessly wriggling, start to scream and shout
Machine knocks off, finally get dragged back out.
Gasping for air, thoroughly drenched in sweat
Operator informs me, scan didn’t take, we regret
Too much movement, monitor shows fuzzy space
Have to start again, my mouths hanging agape.
Got to be joking, already been mummified in tape
Ask for the restroom, then make good my escape
Running down a corridor, everyone’s pointing fun
What’s your problem, gowns open, big hairy bum.
By
David Kavanagh
Bum English = ones derrière
He cursed himself for accepting the dare. He never believed in ghosts or haunted houses. He thought it was an easy way to make a few bucks if he spent a night in a haunted house.
Now he found himself in the most deserted house of the small town, reputed to be haunted. He had lain on his camp bed and hoped sleep would come soon. Certainly, he did not relish the pitch darkness of the house or outside it.
Without any rational explanation he found himself hovering between nowhere and the balcony. He saw all the houses of the town light up in a flash of multiple lightning. It seemed to him as if the whole town trembled as an earthquake rippled below the ground. The balcony seemed to disintegrate, and he found himself falling, falling, and falling right down into an abyss.
He wanted to cry in alarm. Sweat oozed out from all over his body. He woke up on the camp bed. He tried to get up but found himself paralyzed. The darkness engulfed him like a bed cover. Suddenly he thought he saw a flash outside the bedroom in the corridor. Lightning? He had no way of knowing.
Finally, he found he could move his hand and grasp the bottle of rye. The liquid seared his throat. It was not easy to drink as he laid flat on his back. The heat was now intense, and he sweated profusely. He tried in vain to pull up the bed sheet to try and wipe his face. The only thing that moved was his heart that was pumping away like mad. Relax. No ghosts about. It was only in the mind. Tomorrow he would gain those extra bucks.
It was then that he felt something moving over his body. In the pitch darkness he could not see what this could be. Suddenly a pair of malevolent eyes glared at him out of nowhere, seemingly without a face. Then he heard the growl. He wanted to scream but could not. Sweat poured down his face and his heart pumped away like a rocket propelled to hell.
His friends found him next day, cold dead, a small cat sitting on his chest.
At 6 AM, when the smartphone’s harsh alarm rings,
The world that will soon unfold before me waits.
“Come forward, my believers.”
We stand in a long line
Before the gates of the temple.
Some smoking, some sipping coffee,
And others caught in hurried phone calls.
At last, the temple gates swing open,
And I desperately gulp down coffee like holy water.
The boss enters the meeting room.
With a report in one hand, and an invisible crucifix clutched in the other.
His sermon is long, but the conclusion is always brief.
(The conclusion: “Repent!”)
Praise is as rare as a printer’s paper jam,
But criticism is as precise as an alarm clock.
Success bursts into flames under his holy name like lightning,
While mistakes must be reflected upon with tears of repentance.
Meetings drag on like endless worship,
And our notes pile up like sacred scriptures.
The moment he asks, “Is this the best you can do with a report?”
My new goals are hollowly reset back to the beginning.
His questions are like the Riddle of the Sphinx;
The answer is always hidden on page 6 of yesterday's minutes.
Yet, if I dare propose a brilliant idea, he smiles and says,
“Ah, I have been thinking about that since long ago.”
Lunch supposedly offers freedom of choice,
Except we must whip the speed of our own tongues
To match the frantic rhythm of his throat,
And the loud, crushing crunch of his chewing.
Still, I think to myself:
I am not truly me; I am only an existence meant for you.
Today again, bound by the shackles called his “Vision,” I march forward.
When the clock chimes for freedom, the temple lights dim,
And we prepare to return to our own small universes.
“Ah, I must hurry home to see my baby kitten!”
The very moment I lift my heavily crushed seat from the chair,
The boss proclaims:
“We have a team dinner tonight. Attendance is mandatory for everyone.
Consider it an extension of work. Your performance review is coming up soon, isn't it?
Ahem, ahem.”
‘I prayed so hard today, yet I am cast into hell after all.’
“My Lord, why hast Thou truly forsaken me to this inferno?”
And so, only in my wild imagination, do I cry out:
Oh, my dearest boss, in the name of the Lord,
“It is you who must repent!”
sweet pungent
fermented hay
dark and warm
slithers of light spit
through the cracks of the
warped weathered wood
old pie tin lies in the dirt
in its corner
where the mean old bull snake
drank milk with the cats
and kept the rats and rattlers
at bay
there's a buzzing and a hissing
on the other side of this rickety door
inside this old abandoned barn
I decided to explore
I'm about to shove through
but before I do
I look down to see
an Arizona black coiled up
its cold eyes
drawing a bead
whoa there little fella
didn't see you
used to be
I'd blow your head off
tan your hide
and roll you up to toss
in a cigar box
with the others
now--I don't know why
you seem like
such a harmless guy
you didn't strike
well then won't I
and I like the light
reflected off your shiny scales
and the way you glide
so smoothly and methodically
over rough wood
nothing anyway
through that door
just old leather
bridals and reins
broken down boots
and rusty tools
outside
light blinds
squinting to see
corroded red tank
shot full of holes
every idiot with a gun
can't resist
putting in another one
and the dusty chaparral
stretches up to the cool pines
as far as this trail goes
I follow
just a
not quite
snake bit
Arizona boomer
kick'n around
couple of days after
that bloody November
moon
(I set my alarm to)
yeah
whatever it means
sometimes its better
just to keep moving
with the sweet
sun on your shoulder
no rush
whatever I'm looking for
it's gonna find me
even the snakes
and the bloody moon
A woman on her daily walk was serenaded by
a cardinal, a blue jay, and a Carolina wren—
or so she thought. Imagine how surprised she would have been
to learn it was I, a mockingbird perched on a limb up high.
I can make you think you hear a car horn or an alarm,
a barking dog, or a piano. Year-round, day or night,
I perform many charming songs, to listeners’ delight,
but I’ll attack if I think man or creature means me harm.
I am wildly popular, along with being versatile.
I am the designated state bird in five Southern states.*
Those living in the area know that in the forest waits
a concert by performers that are sure to make them smile.
*Arkansas, Florida, Mississippi, Tennessee, and Texas
They looked at me with doubt
The light had long gone out
I was long past my prime
Ripples in a pond subside over time
"That's him?", an onlooker thought it odd
"Yes" his brother said, "I swear to God!"
A girl said "I don't see it, but it must be there"
Their doubts didn't faze me, I really didn't care
"It's all a fraud," said a sad man staring
I laughed inwardly, I was past caring
A colleague thought I was magnetic, explained it by a pheromone
He thought I didn't wash; I just gave a groan.
Then a woman said angrily that I must be kept down
A backhanded compliment, but I'd rather not drown
A young man told his friends that I had a "dog face"
He didn't feel I belonged in his land, his place.
For many years, I hadn't slept through the night
But one day, I got up, feeling alright.
Put a bike helmet on my bald head
Got on my Trek, like a 70's retread.
Cycled out of the city, into green lands
Blood rushed to my face, heard musical bands
Light came from somewhere, buried inside
Perhaps its last stand, before it expired and died
A few people caught sight, gasped with surprise
We were all feeling good, there were stars in their eyes
They gave me a smile, a smile from the heart
Like a sudden symphony, like a work of art.
Should we believe in illusion, should we stick to the fact?
Should we get to the real, or fall for an act?
Whatever was true, I'm old now and worn
But in a smile, in enthusiasm, it's always reborn
Smiles are cheap, I think there's no harm
Life is short, why not add myth, no cause for alarm.
Time
Time is a friend, or is it not?
Has it been kind to you?
Or did it bring a lot of pain?
Tell me, which of these is true?
The virtues time will take along
On the journey of our life
Are those that each of us will need
To stay safe or to survive
The one Time mostly travels with
Be the journey long or short
Is Patience, for Time knows for sure
It will be of great support
Another one Time falls back on
When things tend to get blurry
Is Insight for it will protect
Against needless strain and worry
A few more that will come along
Are Knowledge, Faith, and Hope
Watch how they rush to save the day
When on a slippery slope
If Time keeps company with this clan
How can it do you harm?
Their presence is for your own good
For they raise the alarm
So if you say, your life was hard
And that Time is the one to blame
While you did not invite his clan
Then that would be a crying shame.
Wendy Nipas
The scene unfolds before my eyes,
just past the crest of a small hill.
I realize that I’m soon to be
a witness to a tragic kill.
A little white Chihuahua dog
emerges from the trailer park.
She’s following a blue car out;
she has yappy little bark.
She cannot gain the driver’s ear;
the girl is talking on the phone.
I want to scream, to shout alarm.
The dog needs help, but there is none.
I pass the scene, look for a turn,
a break to swing the car around.
I’m quickly back to where she is,
only to watch the white dog bound
Along beside the car into
the highway and the median;
she’s barking still; the girl won’t see.
I fling the door and start to run.
The girl drives off, now just the dog
is standing there, right in the gap.
I’m on the ground, I plead with her
to get her to come to my lap.
She’s terrified and shaking hard,
so close and then to dart away.
The cars and trucks are whizzing by;
I beg, I plead, I even pray.
A moving truck then crests the hill
just as she darts back to the park.
I stand, I try to wave them off.
Her chances: bleak; her terror: stark.
They see me, brake, the slightest pause,
enough to watch her safe across.
I get back in my car and leave,
just thankful that there was no loss.
A few brief moments, all it took
to play slow motion ‘fore my eyes.
The stuff of which nightmares are made;
a horror play in thin disguise.
Sunshine Smile one of my best friends on soup,
We started communicating within our group,
From the second month onwards,
And so we continued forwards.
On the 24th May I got
Her last email.
We communicated every day
In May.
Her last poem posted,
The 21st May,
"Children of the Earth",
She was sick
Very sick, had been into Hospital
For an operation.
And had to go in a second time
In an ambulance which took her to
Bergen in Norway.
She was terribly afraid, I have tried
To raise her so often on soup,
Phoned the Hospital and wrote them
A letter, not a sound, not a word,
Now nearly a month later,
Still no news, I know she has a
Daughter, but do not know her
Name or address, what are we to do,
I am so distressed, did not
Want to send out ripples of alarm,
But where to from here, does anyone
Have a contact in Norway who
Perhaps could go to the hospital
Or phone or speak Norwegian to them,
As they were not so forthcoming,
But to someone that speaks Norwegian
They might just respond.
Has anyone been in contact with her
in in the last four weeks or so?
We must do something,
PLEASE HELP. We must find
Anne-Lise Anderson!
the floorboards offer only joist only the give the soft jawed stud in the hall
plaster molts white flecks like the chicken did last winter
the tv spits a grey electric grit
a static stuck rattling the cul de sac the deadbolt evening click
i have swept the dead from the wires the cold clot they leave in the pipes
the notice said final in red it promised a merciful eviction
in a neighborhood of taped up windows
the crabgrass a green fire where the dog used to squat wait
inside the mind a leaden bell a pendulum already swinging
the weight of crown molding and sweat
a siyn nap pops like a fuse when the heart stops
just the thermostat clicking off
the house already a frozen meat locker of blue bellies
as the soul snags on the splintered jamb by the side door
while the neighbors count the moving boxes
i kept thinking about the fridge light how long it could burn
over the fatback sweating into a cold yellow brine
the stars rock salt in a split lip
the factory a pulled socket wired to nothing bleeding soot
porch light a clotted throat of toasted wings
the smoke alarm battery dead
all that evisceration funnels us back to the kitchen
we sit in the kitchen thumbing the unpaid slips
my fingers gelid sticking to the paper
the fridge drones on borrowed power
just caught in the clock slow gears a germ in the cogs
the sink drips
the soul stays low in the wiring
behind the lath
holding on
until the breaker snaps