Long Antiseptic Poems
Long Antiseptic Poems. Below are the most popular long Antiseptic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Antiseptic poems by poem length and keyword.
( while taking a tour through those poems readers are requested to keep in their hands, a
feather from the pea-cock’s tail )
Volga - 1
there might have been some provocation
on the part of the rat’s bible
it is not known when and how
every piece of sleep that spatters
from the oesophagus of the dip-swimming
has stick to the c-sharp
of the newly-purchased tooth-brush
the air within the wish-bicycle
figures nothing less
how much is it necessary now
to murder the blue-hue with the study
that can be saved by the depression of the Ganges-basin
to develop the snap-shot of the garland-exchange with the
antiseptic cream
would you think it for some moments
my lord
the lord of the market
before sending any secret e-mail
to the cyclone
residing in the room
behind the stair-case
let the Volga be read once more
with all its clothes
and hair-styles
Volga - 2
the winter of the water-canon
oxidised by the fireflies
wants to touch every bamboo-flute
of this soil, it seems
as if it plays
in the body of every cauliflower
the total memorising-skill
of the blue and yellow pyramid
and if some lines of changes
in the planet be added
the birth-day of the bolster
that goes to the sea
may learn with a lesser effort
the pollen-efficiency of the nail-marked walls
how much should I scold the squirrels
who don’t want to swim
in the still-water of the black-board
Volga – 3
the green-circuit of the fried-almonds
that was submerged
in the open-hair of the afternoon
the whole-night workshop
has taught
the thumb-impression is to be put
how far below it
if the autobiographies are planted
into the drawer of nature
the solubility of the river-reed
gets it done too late at night
all the plus-signs around
from their etiquettes
come down
so many foot-notes
caused by the season-changes
so before planting life
to the address of the wall-lamps
it seems the cotton-flower
written by the oceans
began yawning
Hot soup here
Keeping at arms length;
Face mask call-signs
~~~~~~~~~
Antiseptic atmosphere
Pockets of isolation;
Together yet distanced
~~~~~~~~~
Empty public places
Ghost town feeling;
Pandemic toll
~~~~~~~~~
Lockdown hits hard
Widespread anxiety;
Fear chokes worry
~~~~~~~~~
Global bad news
Broken economies;
A tragic retreat
~~~~~~~~~
Just a small virus
Strangles our mortality;
Deadly lung infection
~~~~~~~~~
Across the world
Colour blind viral works;
Shades of Spanish flu
~~~~~~~~~
News flash
Death toll peaks;
More on the way
~~~~~~~~~
Dangerous liaisons
Gatherings banned;
Contagious consequences
~~~~~~~~~
At last the moon
Styles luna fancy;
Magnetic convergence
~~~~~~~~~
Scary phenomenon
Downtown ghost town;
Crowded disappearance
~~~~~~~~~
Stay at home
Internet escalation;
Social creatures chained
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
01 April 2020
Singapore
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
What are these objects in your frames?
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
Why must they gotta be the same?
Cars and busses, traffic lights
Bicycles and motor bikes
Crosswalks, signs, and steps and stairs
Fire hydrants everywhere
Boats, planes and parking meters
Tickets, fines, misdemeanors
Why are you so fond of these?
Why are palms the only trees?
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
The pictures trapped inside of there
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
Depict a world so bleak and bare
Arid, bland, unaesthetic
Barren, drab, unpoetic
Sterile, cold, antiseptic
Unconcerned, apathetic
Somber, sad, and desolate
Woeful, bland, pedestrian
Weary, grim, dreary, hopeless
Grainy, gray, out of focus
It doesn’t need to be this way…
Many things could fill your squares
Why not fill these things in there?
Tambourines and castanets
Bass trombones and clarinets
English horns and piccolos
Harpsichords and xylophones
Fiddles high and Irish whistles
Jingle bells and finger cymbals
5-string banjos, mandolins
Saxophones, accordions
Desmond Tutu and Mandela
Cassius Clay, Cinderella
Charlemagne and Genghis Kahn
George and Ringo, Paul, and John
Twain and Edgar Allan Poe
Wayne and Brando and Monroe
Ida Wells, Frida Kahlo
Steinem, Parks, and Ferraro
River Thames and stormy seas
Winter wrens and bumble bees
Cyprus, ash, oak, fir, and pine
Sassafras, willow, and lime
Daffodils and magnolias
Marigolds and begonias
Cabbage, beets, and potatoes
Carrots, beans, and tomatoes
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
If your pictures must remain
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
How aboutcha change the frames?
Captcha circles, captcha suns
All the captcha olygons
Wiggly captcha twiggly lines
Twisty captcha twiny vines
Captcha diamonds, captcha hearts
Captcha clovers, moons, and stars
Captcha ribbons, Captcha lace
Captcha colored string bouquets
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
We understand you're here to stay.
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
Just be more creative, OK?
"Dream Bug"
Hour glass
rainbows sparkling
crystal grainy rapids
sliding intrepidly through life’s fingers
their coloured sands speak in tones
they are obtuse and vapid
like snowflakes they fall
confetti on my hands
Writing you
between there
and here again
a feckless court jester
fearless sometimes
walking handstands
painting portraits
in pedantic rhyme
then a page stained,
you're thumb-licked and turning
metaphors gliding ghosting
a snail trail planchette
words miss spelled
they are moulting
like white feathers from cooing doves
we are back in grades of one
singled out on school parade
while the band plays on
we are all caught
like grounded gefilte fish in class
when the saints
go marching in
we’re stopped
for covert mingling
In the office a Nosferatu principal
ignores the grief
behind his two spectacles
two sets of hands are requested straight
knuckles down and held out
the bamboo cane
coaxed no passing
secrets out,
automata face
scream time put on delay
the clock to midnight
on his crypt's wall, hidden
strikes still a braille mind
doesn't once drop the ball
it smiles ruthfully
dialling up the forbidden
chemistry of tears,
a juxtoposition
from the internal well
My opal sky suspended
heaving dreams falling slow mo
through foggy clouds
are breathed in like lavender rain
antiseptic are all
our polished stories
rehearsed repetitively
then delayed and side courted
tennis left hand
lucid inarticulate
backhanded
Love all
candy hearted
is a fresh game
pulled swiftly
from a side pocket
refuting singing flutes
whistling and caressed
by a tongue flirtatiously wetting lips
a regular, pulsating change of pitch
a romantic vibrato
recalled
he calls me
a witch
Scent of a woman
once je t'adore
now her true essence leaking
their personalities mirror switched
bloodied and cut
pieces of peace
stolen by a foolish matador
she’s holding open the exit door
Dream Bug
walks across a
marked and sullied page
lines bleeding right
Melting
dissolved
to the far corner
lid sealed
in a glass jar
left-brained
Dream Bug
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
Now that the wicked witch has left the room….
Alice…in Never, Never Land, with clouded brow, and foggy mind, stares through the looking glass at the flames of autumn falling from the maples trees.
And…as she watches this ballet of little fluttering fairies in flaming gowns of crimson, amber and gold, she REMEMBERS…yes…she REMEMBERS… that world where she once lived.
She remembers a time so long ago… when with unclouded brow… she danced with those flaming fairies and laid down with them when they fell to the ground in the backyard of the house where she once lived with her mother, father, brothers and sisters.
Where are they now, she wonders?
And in that moment….she sees their smiling faces and hears their laughter as the aroma of that magical autumn so long ago, returns obliterating the smell of antiseptic and death.
A smile slowly creeps across her weathered face as she realizes, SHE HAS ESCAPED.
BUT THEN…the door opens………………AND THE SPELL IS BROKEN, for the wicked witch has returned.
TIME FOR YOUR MEDICATION, ALICE…she sweetly croons, as she pulls down the blind.
Author: Elaine George
Written: September 4th, 2014
Two masks or not two masks?*
Is that a question.
Whether it is better to kneel,
to bow in silent supplication,
or show your teeth in anger’s
grimaced rebellion.
To walk at perfumes edge
denied the scent of love’s
soft fingered summons
erase a moment’s touch
in antiseptic angst.
Oh, but to once ignore
the droning voices
shouts of a falling sky
an ever present doom,
hanging, guillotine like,
o’er the heads of all.
To run, wind threshing
from your face
the dust of quarantine
the tears of dying’s dying.
To laugh, to shout, to sing
without rebuttal’s response
challenge the weights
of “fingered” scales
question the veracity
of vacillating voices.
Two masks or not two masks?
(*with apologies to the bard)
John G. Lawless
©5/11/2021
Your birthday, my dear, is more than another year
Marked and filed, a calendar passing, hours mild
Of clasped hands, secret kisses, tickling and
teasing and mocking my tiny sneezing
Your T-shirts and socks and combs I've been stealing
Through, also, the chasm of winter's distance
Through terminations and tight budgets and loose change
Through open arguments and closed doors
Through the torture of twisting back spasms
Through vacant sleep, when tunnel thoughts close in
Through the first anniversary of the loss of your brother
I am blessed for it all, the moods and the worry
Enrich and color the walls of my heart
The sterile white antiseptic years before you
Was someone else's life
So - this day is also the birth
Of your wife.
posted 12/31/18
The Four Walls of Darkness
Darkness envelopes the reaching hand in front of me, it is gone as I am gone,
Captured, barricaded, tortured day and night within these four evil walls...
My Hell, this 10x10 room without a view, with nothing to do but wait, and wait again,
Waiting for sanity to lose it's grip, waiting for reality to slip, wait, and wait again...
The only comfort for me are these four walls I can't see, in darkness surrounding me,
Haunting me, taunting me , Laughing at me, my only company, four walls of bad company...
It's so very dark here, I must be dying, finally, I can't seem to feel anything, nothing,
like there are no walls in front of me, but where did my prison go, suddenly...bright light!!
Eyes opening to a different room, steel walls, antiseptic odor covering, something,
four new shiny walls surrounding me, but still torturing, all around me dead bodies...
Visiting the morgue before they bury me inside the four walls of my
casket...Bastards!!!
Bmdavey@02/19/16
Poem written for contest 4 walls creative free verse sponsored by C.J.
For Angie
The hallways rotated over and around me, maybe it was that aged smell of antiseptic affecting my equilibrium...
Trying to keep my feet, bracing the wall of the room she was assigned with my hand to gain my balance, I was overcome with
hot vibrations
of past voices, shrieking, pleading, crying out for lost loved ones at the time of their greatest need...
unanswered
Slumping to a chair, I felt the weight of despair
Nothing, nobody
My will to live had been broken
Shaking myself, I knew I needed to be released from this
Possession of my soul, so I began praying...
'God, grant these souls entrance to Your Kingdom, reach out with Your Loving Grace to hold them and keep them in Your Love'
Free at last, the orderly asked if everything was alright, I said No...he said, I'm sorry, I need you to sign these papers for Insurance, we have a patient waiting for this room and Housekeeping needs to finish some tasks
Angie's heart had given up, but the cause of death was listed as covid
I just got up from my chair, set the forms down, and walked out, the orderly pleading behind Me "sir, sir, the papers!"
Housekeeping brushed hurriedly past me as I hit the elevator
Down button, entered and
Released at the lobby floor,
Stepping out to the fresh air,
I noticed a Ruby Throated Hummingbird alight on a trumpet flower nearbye, sip, then pause to acknowledge me and spun straight-up...
Heaven awaited
11/12/21
she was discovered nursing her wounds inside my lilac tree
what are you? I asked her, could she a butterfly be?
She did not answer at first, tried to hide under her pretty wing.
Dainty and shy, she is a darling lavender faerie, name of Ming.
She was not fond of coffee, so I fed her lemonade sure.
I also gave her a bit of a cookie, it was chocolate chip pure.
How did you get injured? I asked as gently as a human can.
A rose thorn she told me, showing me a stab mark in her hand.
I offered to get antiseptic and gently wipe away the blood.
She said “no thank you, all I need is a teensy bit of mud.”
So I made her a poultice and put out my hand in a slow way.
She took a teensy bit, thanked me, and flew up and away.