Long Blacking Poems
Long Blacking Poems. Below are the most popular long Blacking by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blacking poems by poem length and keyword.
Victorian Era
~Victorian Era~
I think that the Victorian age would have suited me
The ingenuity fashion the great exhibition
Would all have been fascinating for me to see.
Not a child up chimneys, that’s not my mission
Not a Debtors Prison or Blacking factory.
None of these I’d do, that’s not my ambition.
I want to invent and better things for all,
The Victorian era was when inventors had a ball.
From Steam ships to sewers, lighting, and heating.
Bazalgette cleaned the streets Pettit and Smith made us warm
Lister invented antiseptic which we now use after eating.
Anaesthetic was invented, which is now the norm.
Science and technology all the greats were meeting
But prostitution and destitution were in need of reform.
A great Victorian lady I would have liked to be
But I am quite happy, with the twenty-first century me.
For: A Moment In Another Time by: Mandy Tams~GG~
I do bitterly fault your restless digits, slatternly time;
Your agile dial's design I defy with mutinous rhyme.
What's the veiled intent of your lightning procession,
Against this snail-mover's beleaguered progression?
In swearing truth say why your sight-eclipsing wings
Party and feast and conjure merry over littler beings.
What sadistic banquets in spooky nooks yonder,
Turn your lot-dwindling schemes ever so fonder?
It's true your snaring turns I strongly loathe,
With damning sneers and deserving derision.
What's that blot against heaven's sternest troth,
Obliterating dancing suns on her creasing face?
To what main gain do your life-slicing edges fly,
Usurping innocent freedoms of humble breath?
Your mulish cruises along snaky course-ways,
Flare spite-perfected ills to slay slowing health.
With daring tropes I’ll yet trim hours’ blacking crime,
And I’ll chide the deadly glooms of carnivorous time.
When the panic attacks first started, I brushed them off.
At first, I would feel shocked and surprised by them.
But surprisingly able to stand after.
And even run out of my car so I’m not late.
It’s only a few minutes.
Maybe a couple times a day.
Or three, or whatever.
Yes, sure, I have time.
When I started blacking out, it felt even shorter.
And I could just count down until I gently went under.
But it’s easy enough to recover.
I won’t let them take over my life.
Even as it gradually gets worse.
It’s funny how I didn’t think of the damage it would do.
Over a few weeks and then months.
Until it became slowly more unbearable.
Maybe I’m not that strong after all.
(10/06/11)
He had so much anger , so much hate
To lash out at someone he couldn’t wait
An innocent bystander walking down the street
This was the one that he would beat.
If she had suspected what lied ahead
She would have turned her back and fled.
With fists flaring he knocked her to the ground
Her jaw broken - she couldn’t make a sound
They say they don’t know how she survived
With the extent of her injuries
they was sure she would die.
She gave a description of what he looked like
And before blacking out she started to fight
They caught him with the description she gave
They saw that he was full of anger and rage.
They say from his step father he had been abused
And fighting back was of no use.
His mother did not believe what he had said
And she turned - and sent him to bed.
He now blamed his mother for what
His step father had done
no one to turn to, no where to run.
She should have - defended her son.
He and his step father are both in jail
Because his mother had truly failed
To hold a man she did not watch her son
Now look at what he has gone and done.
( child abuse can create stories such as this)
Farewell Poetry Soup, to my Challenge run
I've surpassed the goal I set to pass someone
and I confess it didn't take very long to do
before becoming addicted, but now I'm through
There's no poetic achievement that I found
in blacking out words of others, round after round
Or in analyzing a poem written by another poet
I'm not a laureate and humbly admit, I know it
So, have it the challenges, you who are gung ho
It was fun for a while but I'm moving on, so...
wheels and magnetic boards for me... no more
I won't comment on poems just to up my score
It was interesting to play for a while but I'm done
Writing poetry I conceive on my own is more fun
Amusing were the known AI users who chose to play
those whose words written without AI are on display
Would you still love me
if I never tore you apart
Took off your face paint
Got under your skin
Looked behind those hazel eyes
Put you back together again
better than before
say you didn’t snore
Lie true my teeth
catching these words falling through my mind
Would you still love me if I never thought deep
Seen outside the cosmos
went back and forth through time
put it into rhyme
Walked across the face of the sun
dug into its core
Came back to earth in a coronal mass ejection
blacking out cities
sowing fields with magnetism
Would you still love me without my indignation
to question god
Why he needed man
was there even a plan
Tell him human intelligence is driving us mad
how I see an abstract shape of eternity
From my perspective
one where we never die
So would you still love me if I wasn’t a poet
No, you would tell me I’m a pain!
for going with the grain
not speaking out, or freaking out
Bowing my head, whilst closing my mind
pretending I’m blind
You love a man not a poet
I love you too
because unlike this
you just don’t crow it
I am so sorry baby
For all of the pain, I caused
I'm not sure what I ever did
I am not sure what went wrong
Your words were constantly stabbing me
Over and over like a sharp knife
In my head, I kept telling myself
This can't be my life
You hitting me constantly
With your large manly fists
I am blacking out
Was there something I missed
Staring at me with no love
Your dark eyes didn't blink
I allowed you to kill all my spirits
This is love I think
My head is hurting
The skin beneath my eyes swollen black & blue
Asking myself over and over
What did I do to hurt you
Baby, I'm sorry please stop hurting me
I love you I didn't mean to hurt thee
I promise I won't do whatever I did again
Baby, you are the only one
Baby, you are my man
Your eyes black filled with so much hatred
Your mouth sharp words filled with swords
You are punching and smacking me
I am trying my hardest to avoid
Tears streaming
My eyes red and stinging
Heartbroken your fists have spoken
Blood in my throat
Now I am choking
Thinking is this love
His man made knots all over my body
Asking myself Is this the love I should be proud of
Lost
Pain is the only thing I feel right now
How can I really be your wife
I am So lost and so confused
Wondering will this always be my life
Should tardy relief take full years more
To grace fallen visages with angst taut,
Let kind nature her multiplied joys hone,
And gild final grins past art's fickle fault.
May saddest souls that now fret most
Gleam with heaven's grandest succor,
No more numbed by fear's fake ghost;
Free from inky mists and bleak rancor.
The gloomiest of hearts down with care
Shall glitter under jubilation's final glare,
And forget prickly sorrow's ghastly pain;
Wholly unafraid of shame's broken train.
He'll his victorious head at last carry high
After blacking ignominies and stigmas go;
None shall Art's virgin blossoms blight so,
Killing fresh dreams whose sign inch nigh.
This star-crossed champ at last shall reign,
And his chafing fan her dead cheers regain.