Long Anaemic Poems
Long Anaemic Poems. Below are the most popular long Anaemic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Anaemic poems by poem length and keyword.
Two Minutes to Midnight
What are your intentions Sir, its important that I know?
The World is close to Midnight, only two minutes to go.
Remember empty promises to keep us safe and free,
Words of retaliation, serve no one, wouldn’t you agree.
It’s no good building bridges, just to knock them down,
Capitalists will also perish, when seeds of war are sown.
Be the greater Man, leave out your pompous rhetoric,
World’s present isn’t dead, but it may be a little sick.
A Trojan Horse is not the way, a strategy doomed to fail,
Talk with counterparts; alone you’re anaemic and pale.
Be a great ambassador, don’t leave us on the outside,
Say no to war, be the bigger man, stand tall with pride.
The future is in your hands, if only for four short years,
Consider the fate of Man, don’t leave us dead or in tears.
For Roberts 8 word challenge contest
Poem written in Sonnet form 8/3/18
The only fear of this stubborn lion heart
is to beat - unheard, without the blessings of your sighs.
In the absence of your affection,
severe silence spins cobwebs upon mossy fences,
you have built across your sky full of blackness
and I ponder
when my soul ascends with sunrise,
why do you veil yourself until twilight reflects moonlight?
Am I the personification of a tree,
under which you no longer need shelter.
A message in a bottle,
no longer upon your mantelpiece.
That love sonnet to which you found so much joy,
but now torn from pages of your poetic anthology.
When romance arrived at your doorstep,
blooming like cherry blossoms,
you pressed each petal in a book you called - love,
but now it collects dust - unread,
wilting like an unnourished bouquet,
so here my hopes lay,
like a 'pearls cradle' upon unwanted shores,
preparing to be washed away with the tide.
Footsteps in the sand remain -
although nothing will keep us together.
I know you are the most beautiful thing,
I'll never get to call my own,
so should I still whisper vows into the void,
or allow upcoming waves to wane our bond?
If only you would flow to me
like tropical drops from waterfalls,
eventually kissing frozen estuaries
then I would place you in the cusp of my hands
to refresh my lips, which crave your touch.
It seems this year there was no spring,
no daffodils, no sunshine - only rain,
so downhearted robins did not sing,
but I captured the last feather from your exodus.
I know a premature summer
will only bloom anaemic sunflowers
but, I still sow their seeds -
hoping you will appear.
Simple Sunday Musing
The urge to travel,
to spread your wings and fly away,
never rooted to one spot.
never spotted on a route.
signpost now defunct,
map a feeble pointer,
direction only by one’s nose.
Intuition in ascendence,
as day and night blur anaemic edges.
Fleet of foot dream chaser,
never-ending sequence,
is chaotically just that.
Event foreman cast,
in a starry-eyed plot,
script writer of their own unique journey,
stagecoach vagrant from,
a who-knows-where platform,
speed bump skipper on a blind course,
taking the "lie" of the land.
In every sense a false scents,
trailblazer has a life of their own,
but tragically a life that both owns,
and disowns them in "equal" measure.
Time-lapse photographer flagged,
by ephemera but doesn't notice,
loop by loop square off,
under amber moonlight passage.
faraway green seeker,
bereft of halting site,
with no stop off in between,
momentum the only resting place
I mourn —
Beneath her insipid skin laid
Vein tunnel hollowed
And beneath anaemic expression,
Laid a smile withering till slumber
I mourned a soul departing —
A soul so garish with love and light
Under the sun's rays she shone
A prismatic bliss of polychromatism
At the end of her devoted performances
Her branches fractured in bruise and scars
Trauma beneath the pipeline tunnels and;
Indentations of infliction by violent hands
Faintly, her vibrance languished to fall
Perishing under the weight of life's abuse
And larghetto into heaven's fáilte
I mourn —
The one who's time was fleeting yet eternal
Beneath deathless lights her beauty shone
Till the next time myself and her would meet
Once more, I'll have the courage to approach
And recite what I couldn't have said then
Her body frail in its struggling grace
Had never felt gentle hands on its surfaces,
But with caress I had vowed to have great caution
When the embrace matured to her beauty fading
On top of mine — I had allowed weeping aloud
I mourned — Her body laid rest before my rainfall of sapphires
Weeping and lamenting in melancholia
For the emaciated angel in her belle slumber.
"Alienation"
Burning through the atmosphere
a diamond hugs herculean, demanding, meteoric,
fast like a sharp spear aimed at Zion in the
obsidian night sky deep, so vast, dotted here
and there with other anaemic diamantés
twinkling, then dimming, as if in despair,
they don’t shine as bright
nor so fair,
this immolator is without peer
Lion of Judah, presence felt near.
A shooting star into the stratosphere?
Leaving a blistering debris trail in its wake.
A Sonic Boom breaks through the veil
sends out sound waves, touching, feeling,
slightly off-rail
sends out a Revelation heralding
resounding eardrum shattering tear -
KA-BOOM!
just like some glamour chick’s walked into the room
in 6 inch killer stilettos,
curve hugging deep velvet
the sub-level indigo blues,
shaking everything in the place
slams the door, her audience now captive
is frozen in place, tittering amongst themselves,
“Here’s something new”;
the world awakes to
crushed violets, heliotropes, shell pinks, eggshell pale blues;
she rises above him
he lifts his face.
Arrival in this
AlienNation
no Ocean, a barren place
Holding pattern and station.
Her vessel lands with a thud,
breaks the bedrock, dirt
she steps through the portal
away from it all, she’s escaping
this asylum,
it’s not evolving, it’s not birth
a re-entry of sorts,
a vacuum sucking back down to
Deadly Earth.
(Lovejoy-Burton/ Dec 2017)
(1)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MEfqTlKPqfI
I am not taking about an apocalypse
I am not talking about humanity’s ultimate collapse
I am not talking about shores battling oceans
This is not about earthquakes inhaling hurricanes
This is about the threats to everyday relationships
The rupture of the tapestry of phratry and friendships
The storms of sweat that flow as our inside breaks apart
I am talking about the cataclysm in our hearts
Imagine a journey watching the evanescence of its destiny
Imagine the sweetest words ever said losing meaning
Imagine your ears losing the sound of your own foot steps
Imagine the look of strangeness masking familiar faces
A mansion becomes a prison cell if it is walled by geniality
An adventure becomes a displacement without our humanity
A friend becomes a stranger when we stand on heels of pretence
A family becomes just an anaemic bloodline without oneness
The fulfilling moments are the ones our hearts retain
When trust is lost, only a tithe may be regained
We try to hide behind blinks as life flips into storms
The world shrinks when we are homeless in our homes
Yesterday,
when there was clarity,
I arose resembling
the flames of sunrise.
Like an articulate artist,
entranced in nature,
I painted fluorescent hues
upon her butterfly wings.
Together we fluttered
like timeless rainbows.
Today in narcissistic times of confusion,
I'm drained from fits of indignation,
as triggers fade between black and red,
turbulence from trials and tribulations
release toxic tones into the air we breathe -
as polluted minds clip our paper plane wings.
As I descend like an anaemic sunset,
the language of silence overcomes me.
I feel like a soggy canvas soaking in puddles,
causing carnage to my heart's paper kingdom -
where journals of poetry still hide.
I seek redemption,
searching for a remedy
from this spell of darkness.
As sensitive stars shimmer upon wild waves,
I place my paper boat on stormy seas -
hoping empathetic winds
elevate me to her abode.
Tomorrow,
before the moon
loses patience with twilight,
to mute the inner demons,
I hope to reach the borders of
an angel that cries tears of treasure -
to rescue her from her paper castle.
To soothe melancholic mornings of mourning,
I'll place each crystal drop into a paper lunch bag,
so we can feed upon morsels of compassion,
because together we are an antidote for real pain.
melancholic tidings—
optimism asystolic, now
fool’s paradise.
laconism stentorian
saline fluid agglomerating
“malignant” obfuscates,
formulates black stars.
fluttering, clouting
against ghostly pale tile.
aesculapian screams
circumnavigate weak cerebrum,
foxtrotting endlessly,
cold-blooded mockery.
serene bedrest
sinking linen counterpane.
morphing, suffocating
anaemic stature,
tasting like metal.
thrashing abnormal growth
actuate tunnels unending
i feel it.
i feel everything.
head encumbrance,
vessels strangulated,
blue skin a horror.
needle-punctured, scanned.
inhuman study. a specimen,
neglected medical non-priority.
fragile. no mind.
deteriorating. weaker.
sick. morningly.
please. help. ignored.
stained. vomit. pale.
monitor accelerating.
oxygen. chemotherapy.
please. help. me.
i. am. human.
bottom. medical. food. chain.
neglect. oxygen. oxygen.
oxygen. oxygen.
need. medicine.
nurses.
loud.
sonorous.
ringing.
light.
hunger. thirst. taste. smell. vision. touch. hearing.
taste. smell. vision. touch. hearing.
vision. touch. hearing.
touch. hearing.
dont. go.
hearing.
loud.
asystole.
after doors close after hours when scarlet neon flickers out red-light nights fill voids of need my body is a ripped flower my throat tingles to the burn of vodka-fire gleaning the gleaming water-washed street for an answer to the latest outstanding bill sadly grateful for the slightest footfall twenty for oral forty for full car park dark steam-heavy dark not streetwalking but streetstaggering in hollow-pod hell anaemic-ashy and vodka-fumy amorphous shadows loitering on durex-dotted waste ground in secret alleys back to dank brick or deep throating down on my knees skirt around thighs fingers come-pearled and slick come quick after doors close after hours when scarlet neon flickers out cold glitter of streetlights gleam of cold hard cash cold kisses colder touch no eye contact look away the cold nothingness that we say