Long B Poems
Long B Poems. Below are the most popular long B by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long B poems by poem length and keyword.
Your words, which seem to be my words,
are but footprints on the fen floor of
the white page, echoes of wand'ring lyric loping.
And if, perhaps, the P's that B have blessed,
they click, they crunch, they sweetly rot underlip.
Tearing words from mind, squeezing through that jealous heartspace.
Tearing follows, wetting page after page, piling into a formless stream.
They clatter upon the mocking whiteness, an array in disarray.
A shattered and graphic mythography, mud clots on tile
after a hike. Why do not my hot words summon Leidenfrost?
I love words, no...I love meaning.
I love meaning, I don't love
the promise of words' bringing of
meaning.
It is National Poetry Month and Shakespeare.
died today.* The first time he died today was
four hundred years ago. I am set to write and read
'publicly' (which spellcheck insists and my heart
does not insist is better writ as 'public ally') some
'poetry' while dancers carve the air, in response to,
in love with, in relation to, hand/heart drawn trees
which have drawn, well-
wishers to wine 'n cheese' 'n chit 'n chat
an opening. A gallery.
But Prince died last night.
The artist formerly known as Prince Rogers Nelson,
and formerly known as a symbol,
and now formerly known as Prince. He died.
The symbol has gone and I don't know what it means.
The words are here behind my teeth, within my fingertips,
astride my heart, tickling that lump in my throat.
It is Earth Day, too. I'm supposed to say some words and make
them meaningful. And make them sing. And ring in the hearts as though
my ditherings are one tine of a tuning fork and the other is the spirits
of those dearly beloved, gathered here. Our coils unshuffled, for in our
sleep of life what dreams may come. But we stand upon, today, both
the funeral's grounds and the corpse to be. The Earth. We are meant
to celebrate her life as she withers. Strangled, starved, and trampled. And I?
I can't.
I just...
cant.
-ShhDragon
*He died today but every day we don't give birth to him with our tongue, on the stages of our heart, he remains a fetid, rotting, beautiful corpse. ’Lo four hundred years ago he died, but every day he isn't summoned, isn't animated, he remains dead. The fact of anniversary is our failing, our repeated failings, to bring forth what might be dead.
THE NEWS
____________________________________________________________
Life Defined by Moments Blindsided
written by The Broken Hearted
Read the news today. There is blues Obituary
today. Agony in whatever we choose His life was extraordinary.
today. Is there no other way than Proud family, wife named Glory
to escape the day? Why did you have His children Edward and Tory
to end your life this way? Too many Died Monday first of July
have to question there own sanity Police give no reason why
taking your own life, is it vanity? Service will be held at one
Trying to control your own calamity? a potluck diner after it is done.
Why didn't you just converse with ________________________
somebody? Isn't that how it is
suppose to be? No one is suppose JOIN THE ARMY
to feel so alone that they end their
own life. What are we going to do A Bright Future
as society? It is paralyzing to think Awaits YOU!
of what could be, when we take to
the destruction personally. It is not ______________________
suppose to be that way. Pages ripped
away, the book is close and can't be oil change
replayed. A story over and its gone. 14.99
___________________________________________________________
POLICE BEAT
Police arrived on the scene shortly after hearing a gun shot fired on the second block of Hayes Road. A male was found deceased with a self inflicted wound to the head.
Cat in a tree on Main street. Firefighters, paramedics and officers dispatched. Cat is safe without injury.
_____________________________________________________________
WEATHER Lottery Numbers
Partly cloudy with chance of
thunderstorms. 85 degreess 6, 42, 66, 81, 89 01
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Folded away, tossed aside, no longer in view.
Nothing else printed, nothing else said about you.
We'll probably move on, we'll probably heal,
and we'll never have known what you feel.
Vivid flashbacks from bloodshed battles
his soul still ravaged by devious dictators,
cries from fallen comrades still echo in his mind,
but he continues to walk upon a path of pandemonium.
Reluctantly he ventures forward with
vengeance portrayed through embers
engulfed within his frenzied eyes -
reflecting his mother's irreversible tears.
He is no mercenary nor a moneymaker,
just a repentant drifter, preparing for bedlam.
His purpose in sight, he closes his eyes,
but struggles to erase his thoughts,
as the sins of his ancestry inflict his mind.
Angels attempt to light his path with harmonic chords,
but demons cause havoc strumming broken strings.
Entering the kingdom of dry fountains,
where God has no influence,
he is afraid to inhale its corrupt pollutant air.
Charcoal clouds rumble,
before horizons shed unwelcome tears.
Before him platinum priests preach,
as court jesters dance with sly grins,
hiding metaphorical daggers behind their backs.
To his right overfull hospitals have no beds,
as penniless patients plead to be cured.
To his left the self proclaimed vain king
sits on his cardboard throne,
throwing dollars into a blazing fire place.
To his side his tyrannical hypocritical queen
hides behind her simulated smile,
oblivious to her narcissistic prince's incest desires
towards her clueless imbecilic princess.
It's an endless loop of greed cultivating corrupt seed,
which continues to breed nefarious creed.
Miserable masses attempt to break free,
but their liberation is dissected by cretinous henchmen.
In the marketplace of Machiavellian thieves,
merchant pawns auction fragmented dreams.
Sold to the biggest idiot!
His eyes full of disbelief, now rage with anarchy!
Intoxicated knights raise their half empty glasses,
as he calmly walks into this man made sand castle.
Gifts the cunning conniving cook some cyanide,
which he empties into his delectable broth.
Both watch as the elevated ones savour it like dogs,
perishing dramatically to their deserved downfall.
Beyond his childhood playground,
now with rusty swings and slides,
he places a crimson rose upon his mother's grave,
kissing her untouched headstone.
Expressionless he walks into the distance,
as storms wash away weak foundations.
Silent One
25 July 2018
We always eulogize a child on his birth
We also eulogize a person on his death
On both occasions he is unable to appreciate the praise
At birth he is unable to understand the words
At death his ears are unresponsive to the sound
Why do we always say good things on these occasions?
Must we confine our eulogy only to these occasions?
A child doesn’t understand our words at the time of his birth
So it doesn’t matter whatever our words may sound
The logic isn’t the same for a person on his death
We have an innate fear that his spirit is hearing our words
We wish to impress the spirit by using words of praise
Why should we impress the spirit with words of praise?
There is a belief that the spirit will leave after such occasions
Some believe that the spirits are not influenced by words
Our fate after death depends on all our deeds after birth
All good deeds will be rewarded by the Creator after death
Fate is not decided on words irrespective of how it may sound
It is impossible to infer true feelings from how the words sound
We often pretend to please others by telling words of praise
These pretensions are useless when hearing ability ceases on death
But may be fruitful when spoken to others on different occasions
It is ineffective when the sense of hearing is undeveloped at birth
The generation of feelings depends upon how we express the words
Human relations depend on how we express our feelings in words.
Expressions, conveying different feelings, are said in a varying sound
The effectiveness is lost when conveyed to a child at birth
Damaged human relations can be repaired through words of praise
The appropriate expressions must be chosen to suit the occasion
Feelings and expressions must amalgamate in the occasion of death
One of the most solemn occasions in life is that of death
While expressing feelings we carefully select the words
The choice of words matches the vibes of the occasions
The speeches are characterized by a particular sound
On such occasions we forget our true feelings and praise
Ebullient feelings are aroused on the occasion of birth
The strength of a relationship is expressed by the identity of the sound
The effectiveness of the expressions rest on the choice of words
Alas! The only expressions a child has are cries at birth
Dreaming shows you many hidden things in your mind; it opens you to alternative thinking…
What are friends? Are friends someone you can trust? What is trust? What is trusting? I've always asked myself this, but never really answered it... Friends are always something I have struggled with.
How does someone become your friend? Is it an unspoken thing? A mutual agreement? A strive to be popular? Or is it a feeling that everyone has?
Throughout my elementary years I had 6 friends. Brandon, Mattia, Isaac, Matthew, and 2 girls, Emily and Sydney. When I hit 5th grade, Isaac, who was my best friend, moved away.
I had one big problem, people who I saw as friends, weren't really friends. There were a lot of things said behind my back and people would use me as a fall guy.
Onto my dream...
My dreams as a kid, before I trained myself to lucidly dream, were, as far as I knew, real. And to be honest, for the most part I don't know what was a dream and what wasn't...
I remember the new "cool" game to play was ZAP... If you don't know what zap is it is pretty much you put a name on a hand and a time and they can't look at it until that time or they must ask them out. This also happened to be the time the term "gay" had hit my school, so I had a guys name written on my hand. So once I found out what it was I went and washed it all off. so as we went back in class everyone who fell to peer pressure which was pretty much everyone but me got in trouble.
Now I told the teacher I had it at one time but I washed it off at lunch because Iw anted to be honest.... She just said that was the right thing to do.... But everyone started laughing at my calling me gay and such because it was a guys name... So when asked who satarted it someone said ask the gay kid.... Well of course I got blamed with it so I was sent to the principal with not one, but two reasons to be in trouble... I woke... got ready for school, and as I was getting to school guess what I saw? A new friend, and its name was Zap.....
What is a true friend? Is it someone who will stand for you? Someone who is always there? Do you have a true friend? Do you trust that person? Now answer that again, do you really? Ask yourself a third time, how do you really know they are your friend?
P.S. Thank you all for all the support, I have really appreciated all the positive feedback on my work... Jarrod D.~
Alas, you may have noticed if
you’ve looked around the world these days,
you don’t see werewolves or zombies,
no vampires or mummies at play.
The whole world seems to have lost that
thade of mystery we once knew,
The creatures that stalked us of old
have become remarkably few.
There’s still a few out there, I know,
good old Dogman up in Michigan,
but for many of these creatures
their wild days have come to an end.
Now what’s the reason for this loss?
What has brought about this strange thing?
That’s easy enough to explain,
we humans are great at killing!
Yes, just as with normal animals,
we kill off what might be a threat,
something threaten might endanger out lives
is something that we can’t abet.
So just like predators and small pox
we saw the job was done,
heck, we published how to kill them
in all of our horror fiction!
Stakes, silver, garlic, and headshots,
we let all the world know how to win,
to the point out nights have become safe,
free of all the creatures of sin.
But if you still want to see them
then I have some good news for you,
you can see them all down at the
Endangerer Horror Species Zoo!
Now we got ghouls, goblins, wendigos,
your Demons, your banshees, and sprites,
we got all of the B-team monsters,
but most folks come for the big five.
I guess we should start with the werewolf,
each must roam in his own separate pen,
their spacious and lined in silver leaf,
we don’t want them getting out again.
The only ones left are the old ones,
so old they no longer transform,
they just stay werewolves all the time,
apparently this is the norm.
whatever the case, it’s good for us,
people can see them fur and all,
through a foot-thick one way mirror
that forms the enclosure front wall.
These eight foot beasts eat messily,
yet people gather when they feed,
yhey act appalled by the whole thing,
Yet they consistently watch the scene.
And when those lycans howl loud
it pieces right down to the soul,
ten times the fear of a normal wolf,
the spine tingles, and blood runs cold.
But people like feeling afraid
so long as they know they are safe,
sometimes we’ll drop a rabbit in there
so folks can watch the beast give chase.
Why do so few of these beast remain?
think silver bullets plus machine gun,
most of them now are heads on a wall,
we’re luck to have more than one...
CONTINUES IN PART II.
“Thick Skinned – What it Feels Like for a Girl”
When you speak
it’s as if stars cascade
out of your mouth
galaxies you produce
musical incantations
that I listen religiously to
I watch your lips
form glistening cupids’ bows
they spread wide open
like the subtle legs
of a forgotten nun
whispering vesper wishes
before priestly sermons
and John Donne
your hushed and salient
remonstrations, you now
plant me in your
sentence,
no, that this should
never have occurred at all
we are irreverent
in our choices
forming new begottens
you usher from the
pulpit of your world
eloquent reasons
to justify wrong from right
right from wrong
as if your internal fortitude
consists within a
mirror universe
deep and soulful
it promises
more than heaven
those curves
and waivers
contracts we signed
some time ago
souls sunk in a
bad marriage
and hushed assurances
of ‘til death do us part weatherin’
kissing the skin
against my throat
the very place
my comeback is primed
to be launched, yours
deliver that kind of
loose compensation
lathered in snake oil
and a clear path
to redemption
that tie my hands
make me mute
I was launched long ago
from safe harbour,
now
off sure
to lay down all my
naked vicious antigens
I have grown in
the petri dish of my
muddy life to fight your
viral love
like diamonds
your words
they sharpen and glisten
cut through
the thick tempered
glass of me,
through the epidermis
of a close-packed woman
you laser your refined tongue
eyes viscerally undressing
you address the wide open
tableau of me, knowing
you adroitly twist your points
penetrating through
to the now
all too familiar
subcutaneous
safe base chakra of me
within a short space of time
I am sold
into
your chicanery
wanting little of the
life that was before
the unfortunate
taming of me
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
"What it Feels Like for a Girl"/ Madonna , Paul Oakenfold (Remix)
https://youtu.be/tbtt0WTKqnQ
https://www.huffpost.com/entry/8-steps-that-explain-why-_b_9143360
http://www.hiddenhurt.co.uk/domestic_violence_poems_1.html#learned
https://songmeanings.com/songs/view/7940/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/What_It_Feels_Like_for_a_Girl
"Puzzle Stomped"
Pieces scattered
placed on a table
with boundaries
between
the incarcerated margins
there are strict conditions
Time drips
its wet connection
each piece a stair fitted
imperfectly
perfect
towards upwards
new mirror reflection
a cracked heart piercing
the tear with savage dedication
behind her veil
the known Morpheus assails
her compromised senses
holding her captured
behind the external view
eyes blindfolded
the blue sashes now let loose
opening green windows to
free the redressed vicissitudes
to undress the crisp breeze of her
monk chanting wake
a new phantom arrives caressing secrets
gambled on a fresh Delius
composing his unfinished symphony
he’s looking for her singular notes
Somewhere,
he stands behind her
sharp as a needle,
cutting tall poppy
each step she takes
towards her freedom gate
In his hands he cups
the hidden
missing piece
The sewing of pages
she continues to bind
in her sleep
along a strong spine
turning and folding stories
uncommon ne'er sublime
their spelt magic
grows majestically spoilt
seeded from a sweet perfume
conducting intoxicating notes
stories flying black-winged
off all the slippery knaves
and wax-sealed pages
like ebony feathers
mummerating starlings
turn into suffocating
dream stealing
king crows smiling maces
She the Smythsewer
laying tenuous imprints
for a new road home
He the myth Beyond
shakes the game board
peace in pieces, a long forgotten song
the chance card thrown
the blanket of romance
thundering over a stormy mind grows
patch worked with glassed-in
jarred ghost bees, the old
puzzle of a story stomped on
He places his feet
firmly between hers
closing in on time
Beyond takes her hand
And sensually whispers
along all her fairest fears
sweeping all pieces off her
tattered story board
fallen irretrievable
forgotten
left lacking
on the harsh floor
Cum dederit
dilectis suis somnum,
Ecce haereditas
to the tune of fate
there is so much more
the words are sewn and sung
the child in time fled
long gone, as if all was pure fantasy
destiny arrives supernaturally too soon
Time for a new story
He says darkly
and swiftly closes
Past’s door.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
Dedicated to my children who have kept my dreams alive.
LOOKING BACK
We can’t go back
To the days of yesteryear
To capture those lost feelings
With those whom we loved so dear
I am just looking back to see
Where all of my dreams first start
You know those deep seeded dreams
Buried way down deep in your heart
I’m not trying to revive a lost love
That I once had forty years ago
Or even trying to replace the twenty years
Of not seeing my grandchildren grow
There were times of much struggle
Filled with pain, fear and torture
It was the love I had for my children
That developed my strength to endure
My children only remember the 2nd set
Of twenty years that have come and gone
When they were all moving out on their own
And when all of the grandchildren came along
It’s like I was locked in a rock
Throughout those 20 to 40 years
Not able to see my grandchildren
Filled my heart with so many tears
The bitterness you feel towards me
Is understandable and really okay
My children, you all have the right
To your feelings and to feel that way
I have finally made the escape
Since that rock has split wide open
I want you all to know who I really am
I haven’t changed at all, only my situation
The gift of feelings we have in our heart
Whether right or wrong, just happen
It matters not what others may think
We should let out our own self expression
No feelings are really ever wrong
In another’s view or even our own
Our thoughts trigger our feelings inside
The feelings we have are ours alone
Looking back strengthens my heart
Reminding me I want to pass along
To all of you, just who I really am
Before my time on earth is gone
One day I hope you will realize
With you I have always been
Filling you up with that extra love
You may have noticed you’ve been given
You have all filled up
Such a big part
Of all the dreams
Living in my heart
My best friend Grace, reminded me
That our feelings are meant to be and to last
God wouldn’t put the dreams in our heart
If He didn’t plan to bring the dreams to pass
My dreams haven’t changed
I am not letting them go
They are for new adventures
With new beginnings of tomorrow
Now that I’m looking back
I’m so glad to have survived
I know now, my love for all of you
Has always kept my dreams alive
Florence McMillian (Flo)
MY SWEETHEART PART 2!
This love is from the bottom of my heart
I love you my sweetheart
You are the queen of my heart
Your heart belongs to my heart
Your beauty satisfies my vulnerable heart
I know you won't break down my heart,
But please build your space and echo in my heart
Your smile and your eyes make me proud
Because I know you have the Mona Lisa fraud
Stars, moon and the sun bow down for your beauty
They don't contain such beauty
My sweetheart allow me to name you Beauty
Sure case my sweetheart your beauty matches the nature's beauty
Don't allow me to say dark beauty or any beauty
But allow me to say you have an African beauty
We share cheers for charity
We love each other for surerity
Like I said earlier our love have clarity
As it needs good and excellent maturity
True love for you darling doesn't quantity
But it acquires strong and jubilant quality
God gave me a gift of charity
And I'm obsessed with that charity
I know you are going to change me
You are not going to drain me
But you are going to develop me
You are not going to exhaust me
But you are going to exhault me
You won't disappoint me
But you will appoint me
Seriously you won't downgrade me
But you will upgrade me
Sweetheart, I love you
You are starring me like you are dressing my dirty mind
You are so beautiful and merciful to me
Beautiful like diamonds in the sky
Beautiful like the moon shining on the sky
Beautiful like cirrocumulus clouds on the sky
Only God and ancestors can tell because they live above the sky
In our love, the limit of all these things will be the sky
Sweetheart, I love you my sweetie pie
I know I will be enjoying you more than a king pie
They usually call me the calf of the November cloud
And my feelings are pregnant like the Nimbus clouds
Not everyone like Nimbus clouds
Only farmers are in love with the Nimbus clouds
Others like cumulus and cirrus clouds
I'm sure my feelings have desire like can stratus clouds
Our love is as good as nimbostratus clouds
Let us fly like travellers
I am a singer plus poet travellers
Explorers are also travellers
Our love dont need intruders but we travellers
Travellers The Singer plus poet love you
I will make myself a man because of you
My sweetheart I respect you!
My sweetheart I love you!
Shiba Phumlani Vimbelasizwe (Travellers: The - Poet)
MY SWEETHEART PART 2!