Long Blunt Poems
Long Blunt Poems. Below are the most popular long Blunt by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blunt poems by poem length and keyword.
ETCHED IN STONE
The marks are recently made, I’m sure
And appear like letters etched in stone
There’s a message here for me to find
I can just make out what’s been carved
With a line through it, as if it is halved
Perhaps someone’s changed their mind
Their expectations of love, now blown
But such is the way it goes with amour
Maybe rediscovered in years to come
Two names, one heart, just says it all
If unrequited love had caused the line
But to carve it in stone is a lot of fuss
It is perhaps, a message for each of us
That it takes a long time just to resign
And to accept that taste of bitter gall
Resolved, with more depths to plumb
But these are no more than scratches
A knife gets blunt quickly, doing that
Hard granite, after all’s said and done
It may be why the line cuts the heart
Possible love at first sight, at the start
And rejection soon after it was begun
But underneath it an etched reply sat
A reconciling message and it matches
A man I know, he is of himself like of the lord
Words are sharp and apt on his tongue
With it formed a blunt dull machete like sword
Covering the deep intention behind and within unsung
The words of false shining like truth
Is a time bomb to the rightful owner
The listener get affected to be delivered off tooth
And suffers the agony of retaliation from the sufferer turned stoner
Deliver my ears from the voice of the sweet sayer
Clipping my mind to a false belief
Whose says are magnetized on prediction cum soothsayer
A hour glass of relief to ageless wood of grief
The knowledge of words oft demanding
Well beyond our Earthly understanding
Mind flash like a blink of an eye
To and fro the norms until the day that we die
Time to grieve those that leave, inadequate
Plead for us, please as our own sole advocate
Unplanned plans demand that we have to know
Right, wrong, lie and truth people do for sustenance to grow
Salvation will not stop crying to its allegiance
Life will not wait long for death’s remembrance
Holding unto name in history which shall fades
Drives many in no time sooner than later to the hades
Memories like a breeze gently blow by
When or how, now or then, we don’t
know why
So, forgive us oh dear lover, oh dearly departed
The once that stood their ground in time so short since started
As we continue to fight this battle
Save us from the deadly luring prattle
We shall soon see the rest of your story
Pray grace reunite us in white lighted glory
Hypocrisy walks in and takes up all the space
The eyes of most brethrens fall on her, their eyes burst
My eye, don't know why, once fell on her face
Can't deter, a blur, unquenchable luring thirst
Le Squirrel Sat For Le Painter
His canvass set
And oils based,
He zeroed onto her providence.
His lips miming
Rhode Island here
Big Apples there.
She scowled her impatience.
Her eyes dismissing his.
Although,
Him noting her dark chocolates,
Sweet looking,
Cloaked as balls of fire,
And a posture gorgeous and erect.
And so was he.
She was a beauty
And a beast ...
As levity was short on her,
But long on him.
If only she would give in
It would make for better strokes,
A better potrait.
Thus ill fated
In his mind,
This potrait sat on thin ice.
Little squirrels jumping in,
Ski jumping off her nose.
Swoosh!
Another one.
Swoosh!
The third missed.
Crash landing on her lap,
Smiling.
A caricature off and galloping.
His horse neighing in absentee.
Seeds of a lampoon sprouting.
His mind jumping
To conclusions.
He raced.
The potrait moaned.
He dabbled a little oil here,
A little oil there.
A pinch of rouge
On her cheeks and lips,
And highlighting a reflection
In her pupils.
Chocolates never looked so bitter.
He finished with sparkles
In her hair, flaming.
He paused,
Adding a little depth
and gradation to her forehead,
pointed and blunt,
like a squirrel posing at his party.
After all she was.
For hues,a reddish brown, and swirls,
No mistaking that of Le Squirrel.
He had a little ways to go
And a lifetime of laughter.
He added squirrels jetting
From her mouth and ears.
And that bushy tail,
He thought
Wiser of not making
Her into a **** star
His mind thinking,
her seated, the bushy tail
jetting up between her thighs.
No.
Upon realization,
her eyes squinting at the portrait
in disbelief,
Le Squirrel screamed.
The shrill heard around town,
Making the artist rise.
connie pachecho
8/31/17
Inspired to write this poem after reading entries
to the Artwork-Poetry Contest
It's been a while I handled my humble muse like this.
Here is a duet between Mfoniso Ubaha and Wems Henry Temmy
MU
I am fine.
You smile with head up, saying; good.
I chuckled, putting up a dirty smile
And you call it beautiful.
I said: okay, you believed it
Without knowing how not okay I am.
WHT
You are mine.
I travel miles with eyes closed, murmuring; food.
I winks, seeing your falling smile...
How fast it becomes artful.
Oh yeah, hmm,the fall hits!
And drive me lonely till you closed your arm.
MU
I am sick but hides it.
I prefer my depression to you--
It is more real than you are.
I put you out to avoid your s.
I lied to you, you loved it, then you don't know
I pretended for life, to live the life I live.
I am a lier and you don't know.
WHT
I longed for thy lips glee that fits.
As thy fainting pressure reads true.
I may be seen to be afar...
But my heart's hole measures feelings omitted
For all the packages you filed won't go,
Even when it dives;
To relieve your painted feelings, it glows...
MU
I got a thick skin and an elastic heart.
Your blunt barb can't sting me in.
Your Poisons didn't reach my vessels...
That my system was undisturbed.
There I live undamaged.
I survived stresses and strain ...
I am unbreakable.
WHT
I embraced the tears tearing its limit apart;
While the fear blocked the bin,
That for peace, you grow unnoticed nestles
Where the prolonged brace is well managed
And the strives thrive though in pain.
Yet, the cross for both becomes bearable.
© ® Mfoniso Ubaha and Wems Henry Temmy
Five vials of hope before 2:55,
An epinephrine Saturday feast
After midday, preventing time to arrive
Again, to stall the curse at least.
The single drop of tear tells it all,
I guess I've seen it coming.
And it did, but very stealthily, the fall
Disguised in serene eyes staring.
Broken voices of 2:55 and hence
A glass of water, a pat on the shoulder,
Paper works, the waiting, querying the sense
Reduced to an atheist's prayer.
The chaos ceased, all quiet on the front.
The war is lost; not a dream did survive.
Life is a poem that is so blunt,
All gone, after midday at 2:55.
Murky moods
Dazzle blurs;
Sad story here
~~~~~~~~~
Eastern grace
Grounding calm;
Blunt poise
~~~~~~~~~
Talk of the town
Vivid happenings;
Front page news
~~~~~~~~~
Cold shoulders
Not much warmth;
Smug indifference
~~~~~~~~~
Loud and noisy
Empty vessels;
Substance abuse
~~~~~~~~~
Alcoholic themes
Whiskey and wine;
Fond highs ply
~~~~~~~~~
Touching takes
Streaming fakes;
Confusing makes!
~~~~~~~~~
Dawn comes
Haze hides;
Sunlit mystique
~~~~~~~~~
Love lines
Lovely laughter;
Lively list
~~~~~~~~~
Joy mingles
Sadness drifts;
Sleepy peace
~~~~~~~~~
Voices fade
Drifting away;
Forgotten
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
15 October 2015
Singapore
"Bildungsroman"
childish things
become children
the sweetness
leaves them
when the dream
in reality leaves them
to walk hand in hand
with the nightmare
of what becomes
us as adults
protagonists are
sometimes heroes
sometimes villains
inside us all dwells
a versatile shadow
we save ourselves
by extracting
the unwanted
familial
in our marrow
antagonists
challenge the
villain in our heroes
we are torn in two
walking down
the middle path
a territorial line
safe and blunt
drawn from
the grey of
sharp black being
and null white seeing
dull dotted lines
wanting erasure
signatures
we are footprints
walking out
all our contracts
time stipulated, then
broken
for better or
worse
driven to Bildungsroman
a complacent district
insouciant
no longer kicking
and screaming
tokens passed
between malleable
lips, minds slipping
softly
marshmallow
into the long kiss
good night
children again,
dreaming
becomes us
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"A Dream About You" / Airshade, Dreamscape
https://youtu.be/lt0_ql7duDg
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bildungsroman
I took my son to the barbers today, and I sat there and I thought about how it compared to when I was small,
All of the equipment is battery driven, but way back when it was scissors that were usually blunt,
The seat for a child was a plank of wood, but now they have a comfortable seat to make them feel good.
They asked my son about his style, but a long time ago it was just short back and sides.
The tools they use today seems to be all throw away as I look around the shop,
but a long time ago they were sharpened on a long leather strop.
My son got to choose who cut his hair, he chose Rosa, but I had only one choice, old Bob Fenner and I am absolutely certain he charged less than a tenner!
Do not count the times my truant tongue spoke
As though counting spring lambs high on the hill!
Can a fire rage aflame with ash and oak
And not yield it's embers to the dawn's chill?
A sabre’s errant challenge to confront
With parochial Envy at its root
Now presented again, both dull and blunt
That turns, by parried defense, to be moot.
Again, with mirth, I engage thine outrage,
Though tire from its false theme of affront
As rote as the actor’s lines from his stage,
No more to win than the fox in the hunt.
Rest thy rage, it to mellow by the morn
To soften thy brow, no longer forlorn.
A feral feline stalks the night
displaying wild and wicked ways
while searching prey for her delight,
and chasing all the lonely strays,
and all the toms out to betray.
She hunts them down when night is dark;
her instincts tell her who is weak.
She culls them out and picks her mark,
and charms him with her wild mystique
then pounces on her prey so meek.
And woe to those who try to tame
this feral feline on the hunt,
and rid her of this moral shame
‘cause wild she is, and I’ll be blunt,
it’s what she does so don’t confront.
She’s always been this sort of girl
enjoying her wild life despite
her having beauty of a pearl;
so taming her would not be right,
this feral feline of the night.
August 6, 2018