Long Blackness Poems
Long Blackness Poems. Below are the most popular long Blackness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blackness poems by poem length and keyword.
I see this house where you once lived with me
I cannot hear your voice in any room,
I touch the cushions,rugs and tapestry
I feel the silky sheets my eye can see.
The silken scarves,the necklaces of blue
I see this house where you once lived with me
The trees bend in the wind, they cannot flee
Their little twigs and branches softly croon
I touch the well embroidered tapestry
The silence is the lack that makes me free
The other senses gratified, stll bloom
I see the sofa, marriage bed indeed
No voice but mine is heard , oh loss obscene
All I see is blackness and faint moon
The cushions comfort me ,oh heart bereaved
Yet all you gave is rich in my esteem
The wedding ring of gold still has its gleam,
I weep at home where you once loved well me
I flinch then rest by love’s great boundary
A lake is slumbering beneath a halcyon sky,
This land has no daybreak nor blackness vie.
Angst crusts float on their substrate surface,
Able and pallid, it defends an idyllic space.
Gray granite emerges from the dreary edge,
A half-light day adorns a barren field hedge.
The aimless times seem to last forever,
I am that bright poor fisherman together.
My boat and I sailed hastily over the lake,
Viewing the tones flow as if for the path's sake
I soothed and spread shade over the water,
A mild wave from the sea hauled it over.
When others stare at me, I get annoyed,
A stage of the ethereal, hazy sky was poised.
I shift my focus to the rocks around me,
You're defined like a rising sun's beauty.
My fragility and hunger are pelted by the tide,
Working very hard but never finding a stride.
Shine often skims over the placid water,
A light may be noted moving like a marauder.
Yet, there's no sun or hours, so the sky is murky,
I am that angler whose heart is still squirmy.
Written: August 07, 2022
Occasionally I despair,
an eternal uphill struggle,
a hopeless walk to sanity:
what else is there for me to do
but scream?
Occasionally my stomach rumbles
as pain, hunger and strife
make it grow distressingly tight.
Occasionally I try to fight
and seek that elusive light
at the end of the tunnel
only to find an inky blackness,
ebony obscurity of darkness
that smothers the soul.
Occasionally I search
for a twisted street or
an endless channel
only to discover a world
devoid of any kindness,
languishing in defilement,
foul-smelling with pollution,
tarnished with infamy and slander,
and an ever-reigning lust.
But often I stand up,
for myself if for none other
and look down towards the horizon
and find what I require: hope and trust.
PS Sorry I left Poetry in the lurch but was hospitalised for three days. I hope to read your poems soon. But please give me time.
I was drenched in black water,
Yet, it looked as though I were dried out.
I stood before a lighthouse,
Yet, remained unseen.
Gazing into the sea’s blackness,
The highest tides forever circled me.
My eyes could find no anchor,
As my dark hands sailed towards the farthest shore.
My home, too, was cloaked in shadow;
Something unseen, yet present, walked with me there.
The map and the wanderer within me never agreed.
Colours were but drifting sailors in my life’s vast sea.
Different souls sail different paths,
Tides come and go.
Memoirs float like driftwood.
Something vast yet fragile appears near the stones.
My grave is smaller than the stones,
Its epitaph; empty and black.
I performed on countless beaches,
Yet, nothing remains visible on this blackest shore.
The last poem I'll ever write before I burn this whole system down
And if this gets me killed so be it
I'll burn down the world
If that makes you listen
And if you think just because of my skin
I'll back down and let you win
You would be sadly mistaken
I will burn down the system
And I'll burn all you racists in it
Watching from the outside
Whilst your skin melts off
Revealing we all bleed red
I guess we are not so different
Is that too graphic
How tragic
Maybe you should've thought about that before you put all my ancestors
In a casket
Before you enslaved us
Whipped us
Starved us
Raped us
Put us into human zoos
Used our babies as alligator bait
Forced our women to nurse your children
While ours died due to being malnourished
And decided to buck break out men
That's not even the half of it
If we really went there we'd be here all day
So excuse me if your racism
Has caused us to be devoid of emotion
From your 'metaphorical' deaths
Does the thought of revenge
Make you scared
Good now at least you'll feel an inkling of what we feel everyday
I promise that out blackness
Will be the last thing you'll see
Before we destroy everything
We will not let you free
You'll stand in a court with an all black jury
Who will find you guilty
The death penalty would be too easy
So we'll give you life imprisonment
And your new home solitary confinement
What about the darkness
I close my eyes and I'm blind
I see nothing but the Blackness
Well I don't care I'm everywhere
I just don't see
But I'm here what about this……
Darkness
All the browns and the greys
And the bronze
And the purple and the haze
Separates Me from the bright
From the lights encapsulating numbness
I can see nothing I'm alone with just myself while all around me the blackness
Darkness
Darkens how can I tell when I cannot see alone and gulfton this Blackness
I'm left in how do I know when I have my eyes closed
But when I open up my eyes there's a brightness a light
That shines ever before me and I've chosen to embrace it
As it, it lifts me I celebrate in it
The light now that I can see it keeps me warm it conloses me
But doesn't try to control me for the lights
I see gives me liberty once again I believe that I can leave
Leave the darkness what is good in the lights
There's nothing but nothing but Shadows numbness
And no one in the dark
Do trust in believe in and receive in this light
Open up your spiritual eyes receive
The LIGHT
I have no tears left to weep, my dears
my heart has turned to stone
life is dreary and I am weary, weary, weary
all my grief and fears I have thrown
I am alone on this earthly place, my dears
tormented by stormy cold reality
oh, grief, I said be gone
I surrender to my destiny
folding, folding my wings, wings, wings
and with my final gasp "beauty" I wish to see
perhaps a falling red leaf
just like me falling in the deep blackness
a red leaf twirling into eternity
_______________________
February 8, 2018
Poetry/Verse/No Tears Left
Copyright Protected, 18-1213-310-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted into the contest, Strand Special 2
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
[Pictured above… My actual coffee mug]
Well, I poured myself a gin
And I sploshed some tonic in
And some lemon and some ice
So it slipped down really nice
If it gave my brain a squiggle
Made it fizzle just a little
Then the blackness and the shrouds
May find glimmers through the clouds
So I sat there contemplating
As my screen just sat there waiting
While the ideas that I had
Made me seem a little mad
Seems the gin just wasn’t coping
As, for ideas, I was groping
So I threw it down the sink
And I had a little think
Eureka! I decreed
It’s a coffee that I need
So I made it in a mug
In the hope it cleared the fug
Suddenly, an idea: new
What a tale I’ve got for you
My muse awakened right on queue
Inspired by? I have no clue
The starting line formed in my head
Was is something I had read
I’m starting now; pull up a pew
Baa… oink… moo… quack… cockadoodledoo
Miriam Colrick and her husband Brad,
tired of dank cities, crumbling and bad,
moved to New Hampshire, bought themselves a farm,
a place they could raise children without harm.
Fifty-six acres, half-forest, half-field,
space to stretch out, live a life that was real,
the only downside of their new homestead?
Some of the locals said it was haunted.
Miriam was not sure she believed their claims,
her first three months were quiet and plain,
neighbors said from there a boy had been kidnapped,
and later two murdered when a farmer snapped.
All sorts of stories, so many dark deeds,
but Miriam and Brad paid them little heed,
in fact those three months brought them much joy,
Miriam fell pregnant, expecting a boy!
It was shortly after that things went off-track,
first she felt many chills run down her back,
then sounds late at night, doors opened and closed,
in Brad’s kitchen garden nothing would grow.
And strangely a picture fell from its frame
the moment they decided to name him James,
fear started creeping to Miriam’s face
when she found the living room all out of place.
But Brad was not the superstitious type,
dismissed all the sounds they heard at night,
“It is an old house, they’re all bound to creak,
and there’s plenty of strange sounds in the country.”
And so it kept on until one midnight dim,
the baby was kicking, Miriam felt him,
but she heard a squeaking in the bathroom,
figured it was dripping, got up in the gloom.
She drew near to see handles move back and fourth,
then glanced in the mirror, cried out in horror,
a half-butchered face was what she them saw,
gurgling horrible, and missing his jaw.
Then a force shoved her, smashed her to the sink,
blackness enveloped her, could not even think,
later Brad told her the one thing he heard
was a distorted and evil laughter.
She came too resting in a hospital bead,
her husband said sadly,”The baby…is dead.”
It was many hours that she wept and sobbed,
nearly broken by the life that was robbed.
People all said it was an accident,
with no money to move, back home they went,
though they paid a priest to bless their farmhouse,
hoping that his words would cast evil out...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Sitting alone looking out into the darkness
I can't see the ocean but I can hear the waves
Braking on the rocks
The wind catches my breath and the cold rain
Is stinging my face but I'm in my happy place.
I imagine that the howling of the wind are ghost
That are tormented by death and are trying to
Send a message.
Sometimes I think they are calling to me and
I must fight with everything I have not to go
With them.
My imagination runs out of control is that my
Mother or my brother standing just out of reach
Do I race towards their voices or walk in the
Opposite direction leaving the wind to call in
To the blackness of the night.
The storm in my head will never subside
And the voices will always be on the wind
But I am not ready to go into the darkness and
Be part of the storm that calls
For your soul.