Long Blitz Poems
Long Blitz Poems. Below are the most popular long Blitz by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blitz poems by poem length and keyword.
Im not sure what i did to you
what i've been blaickmailed for
under the rug we swept the page we tore out
dance around what it told us to do
its your gold to figure out
this time, your pain, of the sin for being the creator
did it to myself
pointing out the abuse of my father
whipped and chained
crucified
no enemies
confusion of salvation
weapon for a messneger
for those who choose to hear it
the tower of babel fell
what if we were all wrong together
back to the basics of how i did this to myself
My father gone crazy
scared of mirrors
his own reflection
another gopher hole to remind him
of what you are
remove the blind fold
and see all my scars
never should have trusted you strangers
fictitious lies
graves of danger
holes to dig
in plots to fall into
wrap myself around the obvious to turn this loose
forgive and forget
i forget all the time
the leash on my neck
i dont forgive
choke at the tears i dont understand
fallen from my throne in the clouds
i didnt deserve
into your nightmare
to live a lie
called your perfect life
and who arwe you mad at
judas or christ for saving you from crucifiction
for the crime of the century
where the finger of your god gone awry
realising his mistake of his image altered
has come with an obvious omen to translate
and photoshop you into restrictions, consequences,
ways you werent supposed to bend
judas christ
the only face left to blame
the truth of the game your playing,
three moves ahead opf the game
me in check mate versus a world not playing fair
creating your god, to be the sin, to live your nightmare
way out of hand...
stuck in this corner
without a hand
opiates for mary jane
and nobody complains
fear farmers and desperation
eyes of the shamed
necisary contradictions
to pull you out of the deepend
swimming towards the sharks we keep at bay
what do you think he did to you?
those who walk around carrying a grudge?
lied? died? never ran away leaving you with the bag in a previous life?
or saved a future generation from a future of nightmares
only he could save us from
unravelling now
never to be forgotten
hail to your mercy
which i dont see exist
hail to your truth of who did it
hail to your emptiness
i am forgiven,
welcomed to the family
treasured as the brother
i am judas
judas christ
so knock it off with this kane and abel blitz
Form:
I remember it as if were yesterday
VE Day...well, not exactly
but, close enough for me
The actual surrender of Italy
May 2, 1945....but the damn Americans
Always the Americans wanted May 8
So, it's May 8th, but I'll always remember the second
We were in Milan...I love Milan
Hitler was dead, Mussolini was dead
I was alive, and in Milan
Rumours were out that the war in Europe was almost done
Nobody had told the Gerry's that though
Word came from Lubeck that they'd surrendered
I was twenty one years old, going on 50
War ages you...and not in a good way
I was in 6th Airborne and ready to go back
When the word came down
I remember kissing the waitress at our cafe
I kissed her hard, and with as much passion as a 21 yr. old can have
I didn't want to let her go
It was over
I kissed her for myself, and everyone in Milan
I kissed her for my folks in Clapham
I kissed her for her folks, wherever they were
I kissed her because we were free, they were free
I kissed her for my Uncle, who we lost early in 1941
Lost him during the blitz in London
England lost 430 people, we lost Uncle Cyril
That was enough, I was signing up
Now, it was over and I was moving on
I kissed her for everyone still waiting for the news
But, most of all, I kissed her for Leslie Testro, Rfn (18yrs)
Lance Cpl Thomas Wray (22 yrs), Lt. Dennis Edmonds (21 yrs)
and all the others attached to 6th Airborne
Who wouldn't know it was Victory in Italy
They were lost, not forgotten, never forgotten
Forever in our minds, our roll of honour
We celebrate them annualy
Few of us left now, but, those that are
go back to Italy every two or three years
back to Milan, and we toast them all
My waitress, Rosa Testrini
She was there as well, every year
Until five years back, we lost her
Now we toast her as well
We all have our honour roll
She was on mine
I found her again in 1950
We were on our second trip back
She met my wife, and I her husband
He's still there, and we talk
My Italian is better than his English
But, we talk as well as we can
I miss her, and the others
But that day, that glorious day in May
I've never kissed like that since
And my wife knows it
Sometimes she reminds me...
I laugh, and remind her....
What that day means...if it hadn't happened
We may not be kissing now
so, she'll never get that kiss
Only Rosa
Rest In Peace my waitress
IMPORTANT LOVE EMOTIONS
Love is good,
Love is important,
Important are the emotions,
Important are the feelings,
Feelings can hurt,
Feelings can heal,
Heal will the heart if honesty lies within it,
Heal will the mind if the thoughts are just.
Just is love when being sincere,
Just is the heart when life is genuine,
Genuine is the emotions if heartfelt,
Genuine is the feeling if they are earnest.
Earnest love must be to find God,
Earnest is the heart if God is within.
Within the mind thoughts must be authentic to the heart,
Within the heart that authenticates love is truth,
Truth is hard to find,
Truth differs all the time,
Time is of the essence,
Time heals all that is broken.
Broken is love when is unfaithful,
Broken-hearted is the unfulfilled love;
Love is beyond reason,
Love is the most blessed thing created,
Created by God, love is sublime,
Created by the sublimity of God’s love is straightforward.
Straightforward is a marriage that abides by love,
Straightforward is a family that consumes love daily,
Daily the heart congregates with the mind,
Daily love collects feelings from the heart.
Heart that beats fast is a heart in excitement,
Heart which doesn’t feel emotions is better dead;
Dead is the heart that doesn’t love,
Dead is the mind that doesn’t think,
Think before you commit adultery,
Think before you jump into a bed for lust.
Lust is not love,
Lust is unclean.
Unclean is the mind which ponders of the flesh,
Unclean is the body that is uninhibited,
Uninhibited is the lover who fakes love,
Uninhibited is the heart without compassion;
Compassion is a must,
Compassion is a word of God;
God created love to be given sincerely,
God did not create a lover to be controlled;
Controlled feelings bring sorrow,
Controlled emotions are dangerous;
Dangerous is a love of a promiscuous woman,
Sorrow shall accumulate if love is controlled.
Compassion is a must,
Compassion is a word of God;
God created love to be given sincerely,
God did not create a lover to be manipulated;
Manipulated feelings bring sorrow,
Manipulated emotions are dangerous;
Dangerous is a love of a promiscuous woman,
Sorrow shall accumulate if love is manipulated.
03/02/22
''B'' Forms, 10 Plus lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
We've a third string coach running the team
who can't even remember his own play book
so a batch of amateurs
are running the show
from the bench
from the trenches
of their minds
Its a play book mirroring
Alice in wonderland
where everything is viewed
through a kleidoscopic -myopic
upside down opaque lens..
where predators are entitled to
a lifetime of get out of jail free passes
then given a badge of martyrdom
when they finally run out of lucky gas-
its a land with a Rio Grande autobahn
where illegals blitz through an open border
and its leaders put its own citizens on lockdown
where honest Abe has been shot in the head... again
by far-far- leftists dregs
who lecture the working man about global warming
while poking holes in the ozone in their private jets
Its a land where black people matter
but matter somewhat less if they dwell in the cities...
if they slaughter themselves over drugs and turf...
if they happen to go against the current-are conservative..
Its a Land where blacks are ferried
to a rabbit hole called planned parenthood,,
who(despite the name) ironically kills a half a million black babies a year....
black wombs are rivaling the gas chambers of Auschwitz and Treblinka
its a land with no rules except for its own citizens
who pay the bills for the lazy-for the illegal
for the ungrateful for the criminal...
and for all of their honest efforts
or for having a differing opinion
or simply being heterosexual
and being of white skin
despite their best efforts
to accommodate
to be empathetic
accepting....
sympathetic,
are constantly branded
racists-
homophobic
xenophobic...
a genuine all around
globo phobic menace..
Yes indeed...Its an upside down land
that's been stamped systemically racist
infested with white supremacists
even though a black man
was elected president
and ran the country for eight years
even though people of color have
the highest standard of living than in most
if not all countries
Why then if this country is so racist and hopelessly bigoted
do people of color flock to the border by the millions to get in.
If I were a person of color, I would avoid this so called
house of white supremacy horrors like the plague
and roll the dice on another color of velvet ...
people....welcome to Joe in Wonderland
Blood and now…
By Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad author
& A Poetry Soup honourably mentioned poet
Blood and now…
Bite the bullet
taste the sweet blood near
near here flowing from the heart
free as life blood can be
free to give back life you see
our two hearts might beat as one
as we lay together on the floor
our blood groups matched
so were not ignored
not one litre not two but three
I willingly gave to thee
There is more of my blood in you
than what is left in me it’s true
your life this day I did save
by giving my blood just so
on February 29th you know
there is one leap year in four you know
I see your face your stubble chin
the worry lines your forehead shows
now and then I see them you know
as my blood into you does flow
I have always admired you you know
from a distance I hid my glow
my face did blush I know it’s true
it did every time I saw you
I knew of course from that first time
you were to be my Valentine
but in the hue of the fights
that special time was never right
could you not feel the heat from me
did your eyes not really see
my heart was worn on my sleeve
all my colleagues could it see
were you really blind of the love of me
should I now take the chance
of this day and its romance
tell you what I really think
gosh our clothes really do stink
I had not washed for a week or two
the nurses were so good it’s true
we were bathed that was luck
but to put our dirty clothes back on
what was with that that was so wrong
I think I will swallow my pride
and ask you to be my Valentine now
as it is only one day in four years so
so years of tears will go this time if you will just be my…
Valentine
NB. A little explanatory note to say the hero of the hour was a young general of feminine power, recently out of training school, but well blooded in warfare. And the man upon the floor, a private soldier, not to be ignored and yet in days of not too long ago fraternising with officers was oh no, no, not allowed. Love however knows no bounds, you know. And that is why this poem thus did flow.
I do not know if the blitz was correct, or indeed the eclipse, perhaps in your marking you could advise me on that. Thank you.
Stanley
(The new mad author)
******Please delete from competition Valentine's Blitz-Poetry Contest Sponsored by Dave Will.
Stashed with programs recorded, which, condensed on universal files
Will tell them very little of what they don’t know and may never know
In this lifetime or the next heaven, in this orbit or the next
Treasure from this Earth loaded up on classical chips, some kind of text
Even the quantum loads with memory mimetic, made to mimic the brane
Will lead you no where’s at all, empty, with your mind well past insane
For what else or beyond could be so crazy as to part from this precious earth
Without ever having known it’s cost, price, work, measure or stint of worth
And clearly, those who leave, when they leave, will not have known one grain
Of sand or soil, mud or toil: all dusty plows pluming billow-clouds into rain
Run on gasoline or stocks of mules, donkey, horse, or ram, shepperd’s hand
Fields from lost fields, turning wheat from grass, rice from blue water land
The mystery of death and birth still a mystery; life a mere reminiscence
Without any real light here or plant photometry, only luminescence
Imagine leaving this planet without every having known it’s rhythm
Going to some other world set in it’s own path, with it’s Keplerian hum
Beating out some different drum, set in a blinding sphere of light and sound
Like blended whiskey with the Irish; or Navajo, without the calendar round
Sans irony, the starmen will consult their astrologer or star-chart for this logic
Countin’ the days before they land again when the stars are [csmo]allo-genic
Since this cosmos has revealed no light to them, the starmen going forth
Eager to jump off of Earth’s orbital path, bend and trajectory
Their spacesuits, ships, tanks, sabres, and thrusters made from the factory
Everything printed like plastic in hazy glow and in false dimension
In light and low gravity, with false smiles and fat charms hanging in suspension
How could the new age begin completely unaware, one might ask ?
With no real knowledge of how the past one ended, without a task
This high level of dimness, this naivete, and ignorance unknowing
Much like blind men on the river styx, or perhaps, along with Homer rowing
Going from one ruse to harbour next shenanigan—look into the Cyclop’s Eye!
No land in Egypt and with Dido elope, with the Siren’s despair, intoxicants in Libya
Oh the images we freeze in time
the sweet, sweet scents that bring recall
the sharp and painful longing that belongings bring
for those lost or lingering on sheets of lavender
on shelves of shaving mugs - Old Spice
soap roped in shower stalls.
Oh the images warmed and torn, sun burnt to brown
upon what's left of glossy crenulated sheets
showing frozen plumped out peeks of
blistering love, gape toothed girls
and sour apple dreams.
We freeze in time on scrapes and shards
on compasses far from the woodlands scene
the tobacco scent of Papa, his yellowed fingers
as they touched my dimpled chin,
blue eyes behind wire rims.
The sweet, sweet scents that bring recall
White Shoulder's between her wholesome breasts
Mother's satin, Chantilly drenched negligee
and father's black onyx ring
ah, I still have him.
The sharp and painful longing that belongings bring
guilty pleasures hidden from the public's tut-tuting eyes
hoarded in ornate boxes, or pressed between stout boards
relentless, heartless is the passing
passing into the frayed, worn fringes
of our dollop of mirrored time.
For those lost or lingering on sheets of lavender
with drawers of balsam pillows to recall the olden days
bring forth the buds which bloom on taffy and apple pie
do not forget the taste of the love
the cotton candy kisses
their first chocolate cone.
On shelves of shaving mugs - Old Spice
soap roped in shower stalls, no sense comes
without its call to memory. Oh you do not sit alone,
play all the old tunes from radio days
and invite your loved ones
to come home.
This is my form it is called Etcetera.
Definition: Write a line or a stanza, take from that line or stanza words in the
order they were written [ from 1 word to whole lines or phrases] begin your
next stanza with it continue until you have written using all the words in the
order written in the line or stanza being explored in depth in a stream of
internal dialogue. ALL poetic devises/tropes may be used INCLUDING internal
rhyme. The verse may be as long or short as you wish, no meter required, no
syllable count.
I would say Etcetera and Blitz are sub forms of Free Verse - Stream of
Consciousness - Etcetera- Blitz
They Riot.
They revel in frank spotlight,
getting drunk in a boozy blitz.
You can find them wrapped in the lush covers of pure linen on Sunday mornings,
their madness of headaches and chills covering their aching bodies as they skip the early mass.
They’re boys that play the cards of life,
gambling away any sane they have left.
If you’re a witness they’ll slip you a hundred,
and tell you to keep your champagne soaked, honey dripping lips shut.
While they sip
and throw away money,
and write what no man could ever imagine.
their celestial smiles draw you in,
and their crumbling hearts refuse to love.
they count their vices before they go to sleep,
hoping with vile smirks for just one more.
Wicked souls and radiant faces,
That’s what everyone says.
their pockets are full of blooming green trees,
That’s what everyone says.
Glass chalices filled to the brim with molten bronze.
That’s what everyone says.
Ten boys who blush at the sight of glimmering gold,
and shiver at the mere thought of dripping crystals wrapped around their necks in the thousands.
Ten boys who Rip Ruins out of each others throats,
Kissing the face of death with blackberry wine stained teeth and magnolia projected breath.
their once simple minds soak up wretched knowledge like sponges in the mediterranean sea, fathers teaching sons to trip the dance that life plays on realing repeat.
He teaches them to love one lady only, her worth is enough to buy them the world itself.
Their silk pants stretch with inherited stacks of green dye stained paper,
rendering their useless hands guilty as they count them,
slip for slip.
Have they let their hands become rough from labor?
What a silly question one might ask, they’ve never worked a sunset in their lives.
They wish on their four lucky stars that daddy won’t go bankrupt,
His money is the only thing keeping them in their right insane minds.
They scratch at their skulls in pandemonium,
searching for an oasis inside their hellish, bourbon soaked tears.
Yet they find nothing.
Screaming nothing,
ripping at their shredded vocal chords.
Wanting out,
But being trained to only go so far.
Yet they can still catch the kite that flows so far,
They are,
Empty Nothing.
?
Behind a Round Table:
This is ANDERSON WALKINGSHOES...
VERSE 1:
I'm a witness,...you're an audience,
Yes,...Christ and the church,
Abide to list of ineptness,
Meet a criteria of creche,
A lioness gifted with new furs from gold,
Love in their abode,
Chorus:
"come in to your breeding home",
Oceans we take sight,...greener pastures we stroll along,
How can I taste your sweetness?
When will I have you as a fuel in my lamp?
I guess writing your feelings in my heart,
Chorus:
"come in to your breeding home",
Oceans we take sight,...greener pastures we stroll along,
How can I taste your sweetness?
When will I have you as a fuel in my lamp?
I guess writing your feelings in my heart,
VERSE 2:
Attractive and benevolent flower in the botany of a gardener,
It is purchased for a purpose;
providing rich scents,prestige and endeavors,
Beak of falcons wish to feed upon,
Doves and sparrows like it's leaves,
But they work in vain,
News about you and I is heard in the East,
Those from west come to view the feast,
From North comes Kings and Queens,
"Very adulterated with endearment",
That's the voice of the southern prominent, .
Three things attributed by love;hardworking,dedication and focus,
The head of one man carries the goals of perversion,
Joy and peace;they are the son and daughter of couples,
"Open your heart,...I.want to hide myself in there",
The man said,
Incredibly the voice of the woman toned,
Chorus:
"come in to your breeding home",
Oceans we take sight,...greener pastures we stroll along,
How can I taste your sweetness?
When will I have you as a fuel in my lamp?
I guess writing your feelings in my heart,
Chorus:
"come in to your breeding home",
Oceans we take sight,...greener pastures we stroll along,
How can I taste your sweetness?
When will I have you as a fuel in my lamp?
I guess writing your feelings in my heart,
Outro:
This is ANDERSON WALKINGSHOES....
Matrimonial seal our consolidation with angelic visitation,
Heaven then hails our glory with hope and laughter,
Day and night concludes our sojourn on the surface of greatness,
That's when death workouts its part with loneliness and weariness,
Feeding the belly of graves with our rotten vessel,
Could you be the Trojan horse,
To bypass the defences of my heart?
Let harmless acts of kindness, run a course,
Break all barriers, to the tiniest part
For once there was, a fancy conqueror,
With soldiers and horses, and tall banners,
In the stomping ground, there was such tremor,
She was fearful and bold, in all manners
She battered my strong gates, scaled my wall,
Rained upon me rocks, and fiery arrows,
My good soldiers, one by one came to fall,
There was much sorrow, on their death throes
Woe be my army, vanquished and beaten,
Torn apart in the blitz, of sudden attack,
All of them stood, until thoroughly smitten,
True warriors’ courage, they never did lack
So alas for me, I did surrender,
My forts and castle, and kingdom whole,
Lest all that remains, be torn asunder,
I gave her my all, from King to Fool
She took it all, and claimed as her own,
I played the Jester, upon her feet,
Settled herself, on my sorry throne,
Never did knew, my heart’s dead meat
At first it was easy, to her bend my knees,
For she was radiant, and beyond compare,
My woeful sorrows, she banished with a kiss
An empress divine, she was my lady fair
It came to pass, she turned a bad leaf,
Here acts were no more, of a fair sovereign,
She became hard, and wearyingly stiff
Upon us both settled, a palpable strain
I never realized, she had her sights,
To another domain, richer than mine,
Her inflamed passion, ebbed to dim lights
In her mind formed, a betrayer’s design
Then she announced, in my once great hall,
How she intends, to march once more,
To another conquest, ripe for the fall,
Greater things she said, lies for her in store
She assembled once more, her great army,
Mightier ever, than the one who came,
Her ranks has swelled, strengthened by the bounty,
Of my kingdom conquered, that she made tame
The dust she stirred, with abrupt departure,
Took the longest time, to finally settle,
A bitter-sweet moment, my life’s great torture,
But stand up I did, with my hard won mettle
Before her I thought, I’m consigned to be alone,
Live only for myself, without for others- care,
Never imagined, to foolish love I’d be prone
Now cruel melancholy, upon my face- stare
Form: