Long Amnesia Poems

Long Amnesia Poems. Below are the most popular long Amnesia by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Amnesia poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member The Interplay of Beauty in Darkness

The Interplay of Beauty in Darkness

I wrap myself in frozen-black, a back without boundaries-deepened,
my thoughts the viscous-tangled lianas in a forgotten earth,
an amnesia-desirer that loses all its forms in absence,
and autumn leaves spill their waves in consternating tumult.

The drunken wind weaves itself in vortices of ephemeral purple,
I rise weightless on wings of whiskey-butterfly sick,
my pain an ashtray where I pray to gods that don't exist yet,
the equinox has tilted oblique toward worlds in grave imbalance.

My body of wilted fog shows itself in shattered smoke mirror,
do I dream in the darkness stupor-sweetness or is reality the dream?
my clouds are false redemptions that bleed at dawn through cracks,
seraphim and serpents dance in the phantoms that disturb my abyss.

I keep silences like a sphinx of stone-speaking without voice,
my intuition is imperceptible laughter, through a jungle it flees smooth,
a widow-shackled in the curse of bitter-black drinks,
but the soul with bruised eyes blooms in the lock of torment.

Dawn scatters its stones of liquid-gold over the retina,
like nightmare-witches that rattle the empty bottles,
in semi-darkness my mirror writes prophecies with trembling fingers,
the pulse brings me closer to the altar of the sun with fatal flames.

I burn on the stone of sacrifice for my beloved of burned-moon,
in the chiaroscuro of existence where paradox is the only truth,
the darkened-beauty wraps me in petals of stellar melancholy,
and I turn into ash that dances on edges of non-being-hesitant.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.


Outside the Livestock

Liberty, Equality and Fraternity, three precious ideals, blinded by the darkness of xenophobia.
 The Republic, democracy and human rights are the pillars of a just society, but in the depths of Marianne, their fragility reminds us that nothing can be taken for granted.
 Perhaps it will be necessary to decapitate a few heads again on the Place de la Concorde, so that the age-old splendor of revolutionary France can be reborn from its ashes.
 Foreigners are constantly discriminated against and treated like cattle, their dignity trampled underfoot.
 Illegal immigrants, without a residence permit, live in promiscuity, seeking refuge in a nation that rejects them.
 The homeless proletarians, scattered in the streets of the homeland of human rights, are proof that equality is slow to become a reality for all.
 Stigmatize Africans by systematically associating them with delinquency and drug trafficking,
 It is to ignore the segregationist policies, applied in disadvantaged suburbs,
 It is choosing to look elsewhere, faced with the cruelty of France's criminal shenanigans in Africa.
 Racists, racialists and nationalist supremacists propagate toxic ideologies that divide rather than unite, creating deep fissures in a France with a legacy of slavery and colonialism.
 Negrophobic xenophobes are chained to hatred and intolerance, they despise the salutary values ??of inclusion and the riches of diversity.
 Enlightened pan-Africanist sub-Saharan Africans carry a vision of solidarity and continental unity, which advocates the search for the realization of Africa's potential.
 Terrorism, capitalism and globalism form an explosive cocktail that disrupts the balance of the contemporary world.
 Patriotic fascists, racialist stereotypes and colonial reflexes are infringements which hinder the evolution towards a community attached to egalitarian principles.
 Under the lights of the slave trade, amnesia is a medicine for all those who want to forget the past and the horrors of the dark pages of the lugubrious history of sweet France.
 The Code Noir gave rise to the transatlantic slave trade, and the Code of the Indigenous was the foundation on which colonization rested.

Premium Member Our Amnesia

Our amnesia self imposed, as stupor
Dormant, one strain of human chimera
Looking outwards, how within may we bore
Pranic conduits blocked by fear atresia

Awaken hermit! Drink nectar soma
We are the void, yet stymied by closed doors 
Delusional are thought borne ideas 
Our amnesia self imposed, as stupor

Think! Why do we, for fleeting forms clamour 
Grant ego exit by euthanasia
Silence and stillness fills joy in each pore 
Dormant, one strain of human chimera

Having partaken of the ambrosia
Questions cease, as we become the answer
We are the light, needing no umbrella 
Looking outwards, how within may we bore

Oh hermit! Do ourself, this one favour
Let inner light shine in continuità
Rejecting our attachment borne horror 
Pranic conduits blocked by fear atresia

The path is direct, via Sushumna 
Heart reverberating soundless thunder
One with the oneness, life no enigma
Let us choose to drive away, with a roar
Our amnesia

30-December-2020

The Last Cigarette

I would break 
Every bone, law, promise
For the version of you I still hold on to 

Soft blue eyes
Rough calloused hands 
with faded knuckle tattoos 

Sarcastic tongue 
With
Dominant magnetism 

Who jokingly 
Rolled their eyes at me 
Cause I took life too serious

My stress-driven tears 
Wiped away instantly with laughter 
Every time I saw your face 

Drawing invisible hearts 
With your finger 
Around my wounded wrist 

Whispering how ugly the world is
But I somehow 
Made your life better 

You relied on 
The smile-inducing adrenaline 
To outrun immature mistakes

In Vans barely held together 
With asphalt scrapes
And marker-colored shoe laces 

Dad’s stolen bourbon in your veins 
Counting stars 
On a picnic table in the park 

Giving each one 
A home for the dreams 
You never talk about 

The ones 
Your friends 
Would make fun of 

Like how you would 
Snap your last cigarette 
In half 

For the thought of getting married 
Having a big family 
Moving to the better part of town 

In a house 
With decorations 
Not liquor bottles and ashtrays 

Walls strong 
With structure 
And warmth 

A job you love 
You wish you could 
Brag about to your dad 

“One day
That’ll be our life”
You’d say 

And I’d smile
So big 
Felt like my chest was caving in 

The weight 
Is suffocating 
Nowadays 

I go to bed 
On my own 
And wake up the same 

I crumble up
So much writing 
And fake amnesia with my dreams

Cause I’ve felt 
Every corner 
Of happiness there is 

Substances
Hypnotism 
Men I convinced myself I loved 

They just never
Made me feel 
The way you did 

While you
Broke
Your last cigarette 

And it 
Landed 
By her feet
© Ali Lynn  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Blinded By Hate

amnesia sets in
selective memory
forgetting the gossip
written in a rhyme
poison inked words
splatter on the screen
to demean
to be mean
misjudge
tattle taler
repeat hater
carries on...
others pics forgotten
other words forgotten
hate fueled
hate sated
the true state
not debated
never stopping to think
could be wrong
has to push down
to be strong

and so it goes on
wrong after wrong
and like the publican
feels good to pray
and say
"Thank God...I'm not like others....a sinner
I'm a winner!"
Morality laden
A chaste maiden

Oh, but erased
is not defaced
there is another record
One with a trace
Seen by another Judge
ONE not common place
a remembered name
a remembered face


and I?

Well, I rest my case....

For I am nothing
but a sinner
in need of grace


Eileen Manassian


Premium Member Forgotten

Can she who births a human flock,
forget to give her newborn suck.
Oh yes indeed! She may forget,
and leave their basic needs unmet.

To amnesia our minds are prone,
As by wild winds our lives are blown,
seniors in nursing homes alone 
forgotten by their flesh and bone.

And what of children on the streets
who forage bins for food to eat.
Clothes dark with dirt, disdained and scorned,
Forgotten as though never born.  

Some soldiers who return from war
Are left to suffer from their scars.
They fought to secure freedom sweet,
Forgotten now they roam the street.

Worst are the infants strapped in seats,
and left to perish in the heat.
So many die, it is so sad
Forgotten by their mom or dad.
 
Feeling forgotten in your soul,
like a sole mole inside a hole?
Cheer up and ponder well this thought,
humans forget, but God does not.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member An Open Letter To My Former Employer

So, XYZ Company, after my five years of servitude and loyalty
you close the doors, you dissolve the department
with less than a day's notice, because, hey, that's all we deserve-
And it was no accident you announced right before Memorial Day
So you don't have to give us holiday pay
And of course you think that's fair
You would rather deny a dozen people their livlihood
Than deny yourself your vacation home in Hawaii
Or your Montana ranch, or your private plane
At least, you avoided the hyprocrisy
Of pretending to be sorry.

And what of our bonus, XYZ Company,
that you promised, oh so ardently!
Oh dear, so sorry, quarterly revenue goals
were missed by thatmuch
so whoops, can not pay bonus after all
And it would be super great if everyone
Could just develop group amnesia
that we ever said it was 'absolutely' on the way-

Oh, XYZ Company, you scammed us, you flim-flammed us
You lied and you know it and we know it
We were betrayed like an unfaithful lover
Burned like an untrue friend
But there is no illusion here of friendship, or respect, or trust
Or even professionlism

You have no future, XYZ Company, for you are dying
diseased, corrupt, and caving in,
squeezing pennies 'til the end
And I am glad to be long gone
When the collapse comes
When the avalanche of your ruin is complete
And you are done-

Submitted to 'The Gem that Slipped through the Cracks' contest on 2/09/21
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh

Premium Member Under the secret veil of the enchanted night

Under the secret veil of the enchanted night,
In the depths of my heart, stars dance,
I cannot make you understand how time ends,
Not even to myself are the mysteries clear.
My soul is a castle of smoke and lights,
Towers of desires and passages of shadows,
A labyrinth of dreams where full cries are lost,
Of a wounded elf, in the ruins of an ancient forest.
In my heart, groves of deep sadness grow,
Their leaves are old whispers, unknown in the wind,
Petals fall like tears from ancient bundles,
But the wound remains throbbing, a sacred mystery.
My thoughts are comets ignited in the night,
In a universe filled with dreamlike nebulas,
On the sky of the day, they vanish, like shadows,
In endless desires and luminous expectations.
I cannot paint for you the waves of melancholy,
Which strike the shore of my empty soul,
It is a perilous sea, a whirlwind of amnesia,
And loneliness lays its gentle veil.
But in the depths of being, a deeper mystery,
An invisible bridge, an unseen thread,
And no matter how I try, the words shatter,
Only the echo of the mystic remains, a story heard.
And thus quietly, I catch myself in the flight of the night,
Through dreams I slide, in search of eternity,
In a universe of shadow and light, in the play of existence,
Where only lunatics and dreams are my friends.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

Amnesia

Amnesia amnesia,
Take this away,
The old heart of decay,
As love goes astray,

Amnesia amnesia,
It’s all in the mind,
As I try to unwind,
The sickness defined.

Breaking down the walls,
As I hear his inner calls,
A Comfort So deep,
My eyes start to weep
Reassuring  me
it all came with a price,
His sweet sacrifice,
His sweet sacrifice.

Amnesia amnesia
When nobody's there,
The void starts to scare,
When I’m unprepared,

Amnesia amnesia,
You’re purchased and rare,
Somebody does care,
Be patient, stay here.

Breaking down the walls,
As I hear his inner calls,
A Comfort So deep,
My eyes start to weep,
Reassuring me
it all came with a price
His sweet sacrifice
His sweet sacrifice.

Amnesia amnesia,
The battle was won,
By God’s only son,
I'v only just begun,

Amnesia amnesia
There is no need to run,
I mustn’t go numb,

My faith is what enabled me to overcome.

By: Sabina Nicole
Contest: faith
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Seasonings of Scent

A Seasoning of Scent

Each season wears the scent of its own seasoning
A signature perfume – wafting spice that beckons 
Awakening 
When my memories come out of hiding shadows
For misty autumn Sunday mornings when a bouquet
Of frying bacon and brewing coffee play tag 
To rush up the stairs to look for dreamers missed by the dawn;
Titillating the deep recesses of amnesia
With a sachet of floral elegance
Gathered up in spring days of sweet Daphne’s mood
As apple blossom aromas drift on vernal billowing -
A lilac scented ballet and spring rain on dry earth
Or linen sheets dried on the line –
Alluring incense of roasting turkey or simmering stewpots
Rushing through icy nights of early twilight
When falling leaves give up their essence -
Aromatic balm, fanned by cinnamon and nutmeg,
Flavoring ambrosial apples
In teasing allure of fresh cut pine and fir –
Bayberry candles drifting invitation
To frolic through captivating potpourris 
Of holiday cookies from the oven
Teasing from waiting anticipation
The smell of new fallen snow 
Or bergamot’s balm on a winter afternoon
When hot cocoa memories sashay through recollections
Embossed in flashbacks of new mown grass
For the boys of summer or watching clouds
Bathed in tones of copper – wet dogs and towels
Sending up a strong whiff of summer
Fanned by salt spray remnants, barbecue grills
And ozone’s thundering incense –
The anamneses of dark chocolate to entice a lover’s heart
Drawing me back into a sacred aura
Elusive, unidentifiable, beckoning me with bouquet of grace
From the eternal perfumery

3-25-21
Contest: Favorite Scents 
Sponsor Chantelle Anne Cooke

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