Long Ashes Poems
Long Ashes Poems. Below are the most popular long Ashes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ashes poems by poem length and keyword.
So this is how the story goes,
There was a boy who for me plucked a rose.
We laughed till our mouths felt sore,
Told jokes till we couldn’t breathe no more,
Tall and handsome, reigned his heart like a throne,
By his side I stood, my heart joined his own.
So this is how the story goes,
There was a boy who for me plucked a rose.
We built an empire from ancient ashes its love remained,
Stormy-seas battering our shores its wrath it rained,
Yet, sunny days beyond grey clouds were always to be found,
In the clearest days our love blossomed brighter and profound.
So this is how the story goes,
There was a boy who for me plucked a rose.
Could I trouble him for a vow?
At icy, cold nights my heart might it thaw,
Long forgotten dreary days in all their hues and shade
Unwavering love, my dearest, his rose never decayed.
So that’s how the story went,
His back for my kisses would bend.
In my hand the ink drips, commotional emotions at large , patches has failed. Nails and swords, pierce the hearing ear, fussed drops of lethal dose, push me to the edge, for adrenaline chokes my conscience, lead tracks, perforation of daunted untrampled dark corners of my mind, diffuse me from this dungeons, let the near and afar witness and preserve my presence for days have surpassed other unrecorded,
I'm poetic ink, unleash and infiltrate the soul for the present to inherit the marks, was just an ink, they said, a Lil to their knowledge, it's a force to be reckoned with, if today imparts none, Tommorow might be in vain, shallow and void, the ink drips, feed the soul for the mind is unguided and clouded by rage, assert the uncertain, pull me closer for the desire is ravenous.
Hand me the cannon, mass distraction at need, I blow the missiles my presence is not for the immediate but the wild and beastly, human essence at awe, look and listen, read and understand, this ink echoes, wisdom and intellectual, breed the inbred,
my crime would not go unpunished, spilling the ink is my servitude, don't wanna account for my silence, for I'm delegated, to empty this ink before my return, dust to dust, ash to ashes, none must pass here before bowing and acknowledging the spillage
#Poetic_Ink
A time will come when skilled hands, once a master's tool,
Will lay still, their craftsmanship, a forgotten rule.
Eyes that shone like stars, bright with knowledge and might,
Will dim, like embers, losing their radiant light.
Degrees, once proudly worn, like badges of honor bright,
Will gather dust, their value, lost in endless night.
The scent of odza room, that fragrant, sacred space,
Will fade, as memories, like autumn leaves, erase.
The mind, a canvas, once alive with vibrant hue,
Will freeze, as judgment's brush, paints a different view.
Creation's spark, that fueled my soul's desire,
Will flicker out, leaving only ashes, cold as fire.
Mansions built, with sweat and toil, will crumble, lost,
Buried beneath, the silence, of a forgotten coast.
My last whisper, a final breath, a moment's sigh,
Will echo through eternity, as the curtain falls, and I say goodbye.
Night, day, or morning, my last moment draws near,
A mystery, known only to the keeper of the year.
When will your last whisper be? Will it be dawn's first light?
Or dusk's last shadow? Only time, the thief, holds the sight.
" Tortured metaphors
spilling from tequila lips,
t i p t o e on my pulse ~
breaking in an arced smile
of the featherless eclipse,
where I waltz as a secluded steel-shine,
sobered s o f t l y
by the taste of satanic stars..."
I'm the loss of a leaf
from gold-dew aspens,
rippling upon
turquoise typewriters,
where drunk fingertips dance.
Turning to ashes,
my heart m e l t s
as a metallic grenade,
and no philosopher's stone
ever reverberating
in its silver-winged silence.
Seeking shelter from smoldering seas,
I curl up in the womb of a guardian willow ~
she's a weeping angel of n e v e r l a n d,
with an ornamented garland
of guns and roses,
enveloping me in the corpse of sunset.
Plunging from diamond cobwebs
into isles of champagne,
like a dynamite dove bloodthirsty for sun,
I l u r k along reefs
studded with rhinestones, unfurling –
lotus manuscripts
as poetic pearls s l i p and t w i r l,
snorkeling in an obsidian oasis.
I miss being
a purple-whisper prophecy,
threaded in fractured letters,
for now, my ink b l e e d s
in the marrow of moon,
where an alchemy is lost and found...
In the chronicles of carnelian clemency
and supernova sorcery,
I've seen arctic assonances
hibernating
in the throats of those,
holding lethal jewels
as a nightingale's neon noose.
So, if my soul is an opal widow
of your thistle-light affection,
a verse romanticised
will be my crystal coffin,
and in the caricatures
of kohl and karma,
our silent soliloquy
shall delicately be shifted.
Surfing in the splitting s i n s
of a salty saviour,
this whiskey damsel
shall evermore remain
a scentless phrase,
scrapped by pencilled brush-strokes,
i n v i s i b l e
in our paper-cut destiny...
It’s not our choice where we would be,
but now that we are here
as an actor performing at the wish of God,
let’s give life the chance to be fulfilled,
and in its fold, make us a good human being.
We chase the mirage of endless desires
in the desolateness of weary existence,
carry the languishing life listlessly
across the desert of limitless bleakness,
on the pitiless pathway of disparaging delusion.
The formidable mountain of life we climb,
the summit to be reached on the track undefined.
Let’s surrender to the designed will of the supreme,
and in His prescribed intent repose our trust,
for faith will pave the pre-defined path for us.
The turbulent ocean of life we need to sail calm,
reach the last anchorage on the tranquil shore far.
Kindle the search light of everlasting hope,
we’ll see silver-lined cloud in the gloomy sky,
the divine light will take us to the destined shore.
Light up the dense darkness of suffering
with the candle of selfless altruism laced with love.
Bloom flowers in the debris of broken hearts,
see these radiate divine glow of happiness,
and the mangled minds find infinite bliss.
Across the wasteland of desolation
many walk in the dismal winter of despair.
Let’s extend the arms of love and compassion,
take them to the sunny shore of the warm sea,
sparkling with joy under the radiant fervent sky.
Let’s release the surge of forgiveness
from the inner recess as the empathy spring,
drown the irate senses in the flood of wisdom.
Rise from the ashes of remorse, douse the disdain fire,
let the fountain of forgiveness flow unhindered.
Let’s strive to be free from the mortal grip,
recover the power of the resolute essence,
that’ll impel us to break away from the clutch of agony,
and with the discernment of divine conscience,
chart for us a new course of psychic awareness.
_______________
March 19, 2023
Contest : Now That We Are Here
Sponsored by : Unseeking Seeker
He knew the day had come
But feared to tell it to his love
The future looked dark and glum
There would be darkness over and above
She stood frozen when it finally hit
Fear in eyes, mouth dry and open
Rooted to a spot unable to sit
To see lights go out and darkness deepen
He gently lifted her rigid form
Shaking with spasms in utter pain
Tried to move away from the coming storm
And the creatures who in darkness reign
A tear fell from her eyes to the ground
The sinners fell towards the faint hue
A tiny hope that love can abound
When they’re ready to pay his due
Silently he moved ahead
Carrying his love towards fate
For time had come for the body to shed
For God is waiting near the gate
A new life will surely form
From the ashes of old that are dead
And their hearts will be more warm
And by the seer they will be led
Is this life in full color and clarity?
why did i yearn for the unknown?
Now biting back chunks of regrets and no thank you's!
I am no snow white and this no fairy tale love story.
This is my reality unsure and insecure, is your reality different from mine?
Or does yours also bring you to your knees?
Sunset dreams turning into ashes at my feet.
No candyfloss clouds , no pretty little songs of beauty and peace!
Is it pretty how i used to slit my wrists and slash at own flesh?
Did it look good as the blood dripped and wounds turned into scars?
Self inflicted gashes of raking fingers towards sanity!
A mirrored reflection of tears of harmful words.
Some my own others gathered by the bags i wanted left empty.
No pictures today i feel a little ugly distraught and disfigured.
Lips parted for screams never ushered.
Self pity no longer needed.
Feeling sorry not fitting to this situation brought on by undeserving un-shed tears! Cornered rocking chair back and forth in the poisoned air.
Mocking insanity right in the face of untold truth of my state.
Don't worry i wont let it slip.
Remembering the sound of release as it drips.
Sorry no thank you's filling every pore.
Just a little crazy at the core.
Pointless slumber exhale its over for today.
Circled starting up again unsettled when i wake!
FEARING FOR MY SAFETY COPING HEALING DOMESTIC VIOLENCE SITUATION ONGOING ATTACKS IT WAS LONG HOME INVASIONS BREAKING IN MY HOME BANK FRAUD MY IDENTITY THIEF THE SCARIEST CALL MY DAUGHTER ABDUCTED IN A PLACE WHERE YOU ARE TOTALLY ALONE I CALLED 911 PUT HER ON AMBER ALERT WHILE THE ABDUCTOR GRABS THE PHONE AND SAY ITS A F KING PRANK MY GOD MY GOD MY DAUGHTER WAS FOUND SAFE BUT I WAS STILL TERRIFIED THIS HOUSE WAS A DEATH TRAP WHERE WITCHES GATHERED IN THE BASEMENT BURNING STARS CROSSES DRAGONS CRYSTAL BALLS IT WAS A SCARY HOUSE ASHES THICK ASHES ON THE WALLS AN INCINERATOR BUILT IN BRICKS FOR DEPOSING OF BODIES FINALLY A GREAT BLESSING SECTION 8 NEW AFFORDABLE HOME ONE MONTH LATER WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN THE BASEMENT I THOUGHT OF ALICIA HILTON SHE KINDA FAVORED HER ODD THOUGH SHE LOOKED LIKE ONE OF CIRO GARGANO GIRLS THE ONE WHO HUNG OUT WITH DANITA DELMONT AGENT CIRO GARGANO PLAYMATES HE SHARED WITH MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND DRIVING AN AUDI NEARLY RUNNING US OFF THE ROAD INTO DANITA'S HONDA I KNEW DEATH WAS NEAR BEING AN FBI INFORMANT WEARING WIRES PREGNANT FOR THE FBI I AM JUST SO GRATEFUL MY FAMILY WAS SPARED THE HOME INVASIONS CONTINUED AS HERE LATELY MY STALKERS PULLED ANOTHER HOME INVASION PUTTING STICKERS ON 1966 MEDICAL RECORDS VIETNAM INTIMIDATING TO REMIND ME OF THE DEAD WOMAN THE NEWS SAID HER AUDI WAS PARKED SHE CAME FROM ANTIOCH TO BUY HEROIN I THOUGHT THIS WAS A HOAX A FAKE MURDER ONE OF CIRO’S FAKING THEIR DEATH AGAIN VERY STRANGE VERY STRANGE INDEED I KNEW CIRO HAD A HOME IN ANTIOCH THIS WAS VERY STRANGE WHY INTIMIDATE ME TODAY THREATS FROM A HAUNTED HOUSE THREATS FROM A DEAD WOMAN AND HER SIDEKICK KIWANI BUGGS DANIELLE DESMOND DANITA DELMONT AGENT MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBANDS CULT STABLE HE SHARED WITH CIRO GARGANO ODD JUST ODD MY CHEST HURTS WITH ANXIETY PTSD PANIC DISORDER CIRO’S KILLERS MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND MY WEARING WIRES PREGNANT BUYING WEAPONS AND DRUGS FOR THE FBI FEARING MY SAFETY WATCHING CIRO PLOTTING MY DEATH
Unmet expectations damage the dormant psyche,
unkept promises smother the rays of fading hope,
unkind words tear the lattice of the mangled mind,
life then turns into an urn of fabricated resentment.
The sane senses become the fast spreading wild fire,
uncontrolled, it boils the blood of intrinsic pride,
and as it flares up, it burns the gentle demeanor,
left undoused, its spite blazes the bonding chords.
As the bitterness smoke billows thick and intense,
upset conscience loses the equilibrium and crashes,
vile breath is charged with the acrimonious ashes,
and the patient facade of restraint they deface.
The discordant world and harsh times I take on,
entice them to create the last straw to clutch,
so, I don’t sink in the implacable stream of life,
but sail to the serene sea on the boat of clemency.
The sunburst horizon sheds gold dust on the sea,
the hued dawn lifts a new day of promise for me.
In unfurling sky on lilac wings the joyous clouds rise,
on them with the rhythm of rhapsody my mind flies.
On the beach of awareness the rapture waves roll,
carry away my livid footprints to the depth of oblivion
of the obscure sea with the uprooted anchor for rancour,
as I perceive my sublime soul exult within a new me.
G20 calls.
And South Africa waits.
But the mirror does not lie.
A nation once rising
now sinks in its own shadow.
Do not blame Trump for his absence.
Do not blame Xi for his silence.
Blame yourselves.
For power without wisdom
is a kingdom without walls.
Once the pride of Africa.
Once the hope of the world.
A golden child among nations.
Favoured.
Respected.
Beloved.
Now a mafia state.
Now a broken promise.
Now a house with no doors
and no guardians.
The infrastructure collapses.
The lights flicker.
The streets crack.
The cities decay
like forgotten kingdoms in old tales.
Johannesburg,
your crown jewel,
now looks like a battlefield.
Ashes where beauty stood.
Chaos where order breathed.
Why should G20 leaders come?
Why risk their lives?
Why waste their time
on a land trembling under corruption
and unburied truth?
You inherited wealth.
You inherited gold.
You inherited systems
built with precision and discipline.
But you shattered them
in a single generation.
Leadership failed you.
And failure became a culture.
Opportunities were many.
But vision was none.
A nation cannot live on memory.
A country cannot rise on slogans.
The future demands architects,
not actors.
South Africa,
withdraw with dignity.
For G20 is no place
for a kingdom in ruins.
Your wound is not history.
Your wound is the present.
And it bleeds every day
while leaders dance
in palaces of illusion.
It is easy to destroy
what you never built.
It is hard to rebuild
what your hands never shaped.
Now the rainbow fades.
Hope trembles.
And the world watches
as a giant falls
under its own weight.
South Africa,
wake up from your dream.
Or be swallowed
by the very darkness
you refused to confront.