Long Bleeding Poems
Long Bleeding Poems. Below are the most popular long Bleeding by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bleeding poems by poem length and keyword.
Land sakes alive what you been into child.
The sun is hot but the wind is mild.
My nose itches,
Someone’s coming with a hole in their britches.
Haven’t seen you in a coon’s age.
A hooting and hollering like an injun’s raid.
I’m fair ta middlin’can’t complain too much.
Barely getting along. Maybe just a touch.
Cooped up like chickens. Driving me up a wall.
Just living hand to mouth. Ain’t he got some gall.
How y’all fairin’ my tail is a dragging.
It’s hotter’n Hades my tongue is a wagging.
Ain’t that just the way. Well bless your heart.
Your pea picking soul. Worse than a popcorn fart.
Let the chips fall. Where there’s a will there’s a way.
Keep your chin up. Rome wasn’t built in a day.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
Like a dog in heat always sniffing around.
Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile.
Looking all fat and sassy with a turd eating smile.
Keep on crying, I’ll give you something to cry about.
Close your barn door before the horse gets out.
Uncle Sam is sure enough bleeding us dry.
Because I said so…that’s why!
All life is splendid now
Your loving heart
Wholly belongs to me
Wrapped in healthy roses
Full hope and trust I have
With you, glory is priceless
Your shining eyes fix mine
I feel my heart is taken
Promises made you honour
It’s another glory in paradise
In your breath, I live majesty
As your caresses are lovingly
They engulf and engage me
Your tongue is so supple
To yield sweet in my mouth
I sing glory after beauty
In your defence, I stand strongly
I fear no wind and no rain
I am ready to walk on eggs
To go through a bush of prickles
Now as glory has quenched
The sun sets randomly
The evening becomes windy
At the horizon, I can see you
My voice can no more reach you
So I no more dream
My past dreams haunt me
Your words are merciless
Your lyric lies and pierces my heart
But still, I will stay true to myself
Another day will come
When flowers will smell
The beauty of the heart to restore hope
And my bleeding heart will heal
My tears will dry and wipe
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
I was born all innocent
I was taught about truth and lies at church
and nuns at school-
they would say, confess your lies (so I made some up)
I would bow my head repeating, lie, lie, lie
and would tell the priest some real good ones
I had imagination . . .
but I was a child-
I learned about truth later
and about people with mouthfuls of lies
lies, (hiding beneath)
I love you, is the worse one and hurts the most
oh, hurt me with truth
I am worth honesty
I will survive truth but a lie never (ever fades away) . . .
Unspoken lies- I hold within me, yes, I lie to me
making excuses and looking away
trying to protect
to not hurt those I love and care about
but would they think my truth a lie-
so, I tell lies, lies, lies (and even more lies)
I learned that at church
I told mother a lie . . .
when death loomed I took her hand
and told her that she would be alright (I lied)
beneath my lie- a dagger plunged
deep into my heart and it is still there bleeding
oh yes, I know how to lie
but it is me, myself and I, who suffers beneath all
the (lies and truth) with a soul
forever scarred . . .
_______________________
February 10, 2017
Poetry/Free Verse/Beneath The Lies
Copyright Protected, ID 17- 874-072-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
What Lies Beneath The Lies Contest
sponsor, John Lawless
Second Place
As darkness approaches, I grow anxious for our meeting
when your first touch will make me shiver in greeting.
An invitation to a private feast, darling, for you to dine.
After centuries together, I've no fear you will not decline.
We've quipped about it being called Valentine's 'Day'
when only in the night is it safe to come out and play.
Since the first time you made love to me in your lair,
I cannot get enough of your animalistic savoir faire.
My proposal will be waiting when you rise from bed.
You'll find me in the garden. It's nearly time to be fed.
My hunger is growing for what my body requires from you.
My thirst will be quenched when moonlight shines through.
Ebony the night, and in its silence, I'm desperately needing
to feel your lips on mine and nibbles to start the bleeding.
All of me will surrender when you wake and become mine...
my lover in shadowed places; my beloved bloody valentine.
Around my shoulders you'll wrap me in your heavy cloak.
Passion will arouse between us with every tender stroke.
Moving through the fog, we will tryst inside your crypt...
my buttons unfastened and your pants slowly unzipped.
There's a sudden feeling that I get from you each night,
eagerness for what's to come when I feel your first bite.
I'll tilt my head back and desire will hit me with a rush.
Your crimson lips silence me as my blood begins to gush.
You drink just enough to keep our love a burning ember.
Being in your arms is the only place I will ever remember.
Drink from me, darling, as if the libation is a fine wine,
and then I will drink from you, my beloved bloody valentine.
When will we learn to let go,
Of things never heard of and things spoken of?
When will we learn not to give up,
To things we pushed aside and things we cried for?
When will our time, come to its utmost?
When will our part take its rolling turn?
We prayed to Him, day and night
We waited for our tears to stop on its own.
We danced to the music of our youths passing by
We watched the future bleeding before our eyes
We cried for the hands that held us up
We shattered to the wings that carried us through out.
And we listened to stories they’ve bravely sang
We whispered to ourselves, Oh dear lord keep us warm.
We begged for a shelter to roofed us all night,
We knelt to the ground, for a leaf to slowly sprout.
When will our cries and screams be heard?
When will you see the arms reaching you out?
When will you listen to the voices of fears?
When will it be our time to deeply fall asleep?
Lying alone on a freshly mown lawn
Green as emeralds and warm from
The autumn sun flickering daintily
Through the flecks of mystery dust
Welcoming my form into the folds
Of its tender tendrils of loving blades
Whispering sentiments of prayers
Across my praising form which lays
Awaiting the moment when one
Gently floating cloud will turn from
A silver ball of bleached cotton
To something I can choose as my own
A soldier surrendering to Lee
Or some majestic Eagle reaching down
To cast a shadow across the earth
Possibly a stallion, bleeding pride
And vengeance for the loss of its freedom
There are so many shapes arising
From the azure skies, in silhouettes
Of softest veils, capturing hearts
Wooing spirits with the reveries
Encouraged and inspired by the drifting
Shadows of melancholy wisdom
God’s paintbrush misting the firmament
With pretty pictures that resemble
Truth, tantalizing dreams and freedom
Sweet sensations in hues of washed-out
Threads, strands that breathe kindness
And pursue compassion the way my mind
Chases after some dream I’ve lost in waking
A soothing pursuit for feelings of grace
God has blessed me with many cloudless days
But when he chooses to, he commends the heavens
With images of delicate celebration, worship
From the sanctity of heartfelt scenes in nature
Marshmallow puffs of phenomenal glory
Dancing hope through the one who sees
The images inspired by these blessed vapors
STRAND COMPLETELY NEW (19) ,any form,any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
August 9, 2020
we're past the convenience of apathy
is it an act?
is it all fake?
easy for you to say it's a mistake
when my mind is dosed
with a thousand new questions
and i'll never know
'til we share this affliction
we've gone too far for trivialities
no going back
can't hit the brakes
not when your name's on every pill i take
when i'm diagnosed
with all the wrong conditions
i'm too predisposed
with no clear grasp of reason
it's just like counting seizures
we're dangerously unsure
while you tell me my green is all red
is it too hard to believe
i've accepted everything you said
you're a hemmorrhage in my left brain
slowly bleeding into my right eye
well there's no wonder i can't see straight
and no wonder why i can't think right
you're a cause and a cure for my strain
of insanity; but don't ask why
when we're caught in this drugged-up stalemate
and it's all asinine in hindsight
while i'm laughing the song in my head
is it too hard to believe
i'd rather be lost in you instead
when i'm caught in throes
of turbulent confusion
keep me ever close
a welcome dissolution
it's just like counting seizures
so desperate to be sure
with heartbeats in crescendo
i just don't know
i just don't know
There's an inimical solemnity
dissolving the loveliness
of the last day of spring;
I sought solitude and awareness
from the very beginning,
but this farewell won't depart from me!
Along the the shady and dusty road so solitary,
I pick ripe strawberries so fragrantly dainty:
these are precious gifts of Mother Nature held out
to my grateful hands...never wanting to stop!
Gentle butterflies swirl in frantic swiftness
to land where I am standing;
I step aside to let them in,
allowing them to savor the same sweetness!
Winding paths lead to emerald and vast meadows,
guarded by a brilliant sky scented by daffodils...
there the fragrance enters freely into the nostrils;
there only the sultry and mysterious night of June
can hide its frightful shadows
under the translucent gleams of the argent moon!
From the corners of a small island
alienated from the human mind
and ever overlooked by the haziest sky,
voltures hover briefly,then descend abruptly
to feed upon a wounded,wriggling deer,near death,
unable to fend himself off!
Distant gallops take a quick rest
as targeted rifles line and blast,
shrieking creatures plunge down,lifeless,
into the weedy grass...
as their helpless,drooping wings
and expiring eyes
strike the thristles with their bloody heads!
The pitiful predators lie moribond in exile,
to show their bleeding wounds...
of imprudent eagles
to the wild!
It's Friday and I am feeling so woebegone,
I woke today full of tragic melancholy;
the day is dark with rainfall and I have withdrawn.
I just want to hide so no-one sees my beauty,
oh please no men looking with lust- women with hate;
I woke today full of tragic melancholy.
I look in the mirror trying to concentrate,
deciding to hide in my long hair all Friday;
oh please no men looking with lust- women with hate.
Hood on, I go to the store for a rose bouquet,
velvet red roses I press to my ruby lips;
deciding to hide in my long hair all Friday.
Woeful I am writing and my bleeding pen drips,
I think a poet needs a bit of sad forlorn;
velvet red roses I press to my ruby lips.
Today, poems will be born- from a soul words torn,
it's Friday and I am feeling so woebegone;
I think a poet needs a bit of sad forlorn,
the day is dark with rainfall and I have withdrawn.
_______________________
February 23, 2018
Poetry/Terzanelle/This Woebegone Friday Feeling
Copyright Protected, ID 18-9967-83-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Friday Feeling
sponsor, Silent One
Fourth Place
A cow is goaded roughly, into a big steel box,
Eyes bulging from sockets, nose puffing snot,
Butcher pulls a lever, trapping its head tight,
Takes out big heavy pistol, aims it right,
Presses it BANG between, the beasts eyes,
A bolt shoots out, no time for cries,
Cow hits the ground, like sack of flour,
Blood pumps from its head, in a shower,
Pulls release handle, No messing about,
Immediately draws his knife, bleeding it out,
Slicing throat open, draining blood of life,
Puts a long spring into head, fits just right,
Rams it up and down, to snap the spine,
Cow kicking like mad, until finally supine,
Body goes limp, puts shackle upon hoof,
Head is scalped, then decapitated aloof,
Hoisted up along, now ready for the rest,
Skinned and disemboweled, to request,
Already another one, waiting in the box,
Can see it’s fate, eyes bulging in shock.
By
David Kavanagh