Long Bolts Poems
Long Bolts Poems. Below are the most popular long Bolts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bolts poems by poem length and keyword.
Candle glow at midnight,
The hatch is locked
A scrambling splutter
As I reach for the key of circles, bolts and lines.
But just as before. The circle ends 4 corners behind
And I'm scrambling again for another key
I plead the glow;
It flickers as I-
Well, I,
I cherish my existence once more
As another circle starts to grow...
My foot taps to the humming,
Blood rushing under my skin, I'm thrown to the couch–
It's way past midnight. Immobile, so I curb the corner.
Did I feel the end?
For better or worse, the hatch unlocks, no key.
My head tilts, and
I can't seem
To keep the colours uniform again.
I spiral to only splatters of *pink* and *green* caressing the wall
Overwhelmingly.
Please, don't, love.
But I do, do I? FOR WHAT PURPOSE?
I plead once more.
And become void, I hate. I hate. I hate.
But only pink could resonate.
Peculiar, screwy, winding staircase
With a dull shine, from yellow dimming bulb
Together with fractured, clumsy, flight of steps
Squeaking, as steps ascend into a shadow
Among smelly air bolts, from the dark spaces
Appears visible specks of dust balls, in abundance
Lofty windows, grasping light emission
In metallic strains of cloudiness
Crossbars of the morning sun
Twinkle on capacity chests broken
Close by- brittle trunks worn out
Rain spills, dribbling, occasionally
Into the dim boudoir
With old clutter furniture
Where dreams are elevated
And the phantoms of the night
With shadows, profound, around the quarters
Of murky dim spaces
Comes moonlight full
Into the eminent body
Of a profound, established
Adolescence, Sky Parlor
#In_your_Glass_house
I Asked for your name,
you gave me more than what I requested
Instead you opened your heart for me.
Your most precious part.
Minded not my intentions,
maybe in me you too saw peace.
Like a toddler, you led me in into your most fragile spaces, tenderly held my emotions with soft innocent hands, into your glass house
Somewhere not only special to you but sacred.
You trusted me, without care and fear.
A stroke to my wondering mind,
I too let loose and flowed with the orientation,
lil did I know, I will learn to be comfortable, something I relearnt ages ago.
Let off my gut, my fears and insecurities,
for your innocence eased all my stiff life bolts.
There in your glass house, everything looked perfect
Your aura, your smile, your voice and your laughter
Got mirred but those purified ornaments,
Lost to words, mesmerized by reality which still to date still refusing to surface, in disbelief!
You too perfect to digress
Too beautiful to not hypnotize
Too pure to not fall for
In your glass house,
I too wanna reside
Wanna learn
Wanna grow
And be nourished
Maybe I would shed all the pain life has saveged me with. Maybe be purified too, maybe deeper, cleansed.
In your glass house, you have welcomed me with all my flaws and scars, accepted me and showered me with nothing more than your purest form on love.
In your glass house, I feel safe, welcomed, accepted than anywhere else in the world
ever been received.
In your glass house I feel belonging
In your glass house I'm home
In your glass house I'm loved
In your glass house I'm appreciated
In your glass house I'm accepted
Cherished, celebrated, loved and stunned
Allow me too
To be your glass house
Your safe haven
Your asylum
Your fate
Your eternity
For in this house
I too don't wanna leave
I wanna be permanent
In your glass house
I wanna be native.
#Poetic_Ink
We let loose the untamed winds
As boulders crashed eleven ships were lost
With storm unabated into the Laestrygons we ran
T'was one lone ship which hit Circe's land
As boulders crashed eleven ships were lost
Fair isle it was of verdant green, of misty hills
T'was one lone ship which hit Circe's land
Warm welcome and viands was Circe's fare
Fair isle it was of verdant green, of misty hills
Odysses, Circe's love was spared as we were turned to swine
Warm welcome and viands was Circe's fare
Spell broken with Herme's help we all were back on board.
Odysses, Circe's love was spared as we were turned to swine
Thence we sailed to Hade's land where roam the souls about
Spell broken with Herme's help we all were back on board.
We were counseled on how to beat the odds
Thence we sailed to Hade's land where roam the souls about
With beeswax we stuffed our ears and Odysseus was tied to the mast
We were counseled on how to beat the odds
The Sirens' serenade was in vain
With beeswax we stuffed our ears and Odysseus was tied to the mast
Next Scylla and Charybdis were sate with six of our doughty men
The Sirens' serenade was in vain
Our last misfortune as a crew was on Helios shore
Next Scylla and Charybdis were sate with six of our doughty men
We tasted off succulent meat and were struck by Zeus' bolts
Our last misfortune as a crew was on Helios shore
Of twelve ships and their crew only Odysseus survived the sail
We tasted off succulent meat and were struck by Zeus' bolts
Past Scylla and Charybdis again, Odysseus floundered all alone
Of twelve ships and their crew only Odysseus survived the sail
Bedraggled and beat, a weary man he was trapped in Calypso's thrall
Past Scylla and Charybdis again, Odysseus floundered all alone
For seven years did Calypso's arms embrace the valiant hero
Bedraggled and beat, a weary man he was trapped in Calypso's thrall
Finally, on Hermes' plea Calypso let him go.
For seven years did Calypso's arms embrace the valiant hero
Great heroes we consigned to flames
Finally, on Hermes' plea Calypso let him go.
We sailed the seas from Trozan shores
~11 Jun 2016~
Am I invisible?
No, I’m not.
Sometimes I feel like I am.
Sometimes I wish I was.
But deep down I know I’m not.
Even if it was my deepest desire,
I’m certain it’d ever come true.
In this house,
I may not be invisible,
But my feelings definitely are.
Like they’re hovering,
far away from my body.
Where my family can’t see.
I soak in the words they preach,
When I become the outlet for sadness, anger, and grief.
My body moves mindlessly as
I comfort them.
Each and every person.
Even though it is never returned.
My brain taps restlessly at my skull,
Begging me to listen,
Begging me to acknowledge the twinge in my chest,
the tears building up in my eyes.
But I can’t.
I cant.
I lay alone in this bed,
Staring into the darkness,
Wondering why noone cares.
Shouldn’t I get some compensation?
Don’t I deserve something back?
Aren’t my kind words,
My selfless actions,
Deserving of something,
More?
I’m told to “keep it together.”
But why me?
Because I am stronger than them?
more mature?
more understanding?
And yet I am so young.
Can my heart keep beating,
With this many wounds?
My rib cage is torn open,
blood leaks from my chest,
dark crimson stains the world
around me,
and yet I still ask,
“Are you okay?”
Even if it is my life,
I will offer it to them,
For it bears no importance to me.
Surrounded by these people,
The ones I call ‘family’,
I am a counsellor, for all ages.
I wonder where I store it all,
All the trauma -
That’s been passed down to me,
Like a secret ingredient,
Measured by the gods.
A treasure to keep safe.
And I lock it all away.
Will I ever escape this?
Am I always to be seen as just another diary to dump words in?
Someone who will drink up the sorrow,
From her very household,
Just to prevent a flood?
When will this torture end?
I know I love them,
There is no denying that statement.
But I no longer wish to walk around with the label “therapist” stamped on my back.
Don’t you see the scales above my head?
Dangerously tilting,
About to fall?
I feel like sometime soon,
The bolts will loosen,
And all will fall apart.
I am breaking into pieces,
cracks appearing with each trauma untold.
Sometimes I wish I wasn’t here,
I wish when they saw me,
I was seen for conversation - normal ones.
And sometimes I wish I was invisible,
Or maybe not even here at all.
Systemic Strain, Not Personal Fault
They say "pull yourself up",
But the set of steps they hand you got rungs
Missin, bolts loose,
And a warning label that indicates:
Good Luck.
You out here dodgin' glitches, cutoff.
Caseworkers who forget your name
Bur remember your target dates.
You fight battles they swear are "Personal
Choices ".
In the process the whole damage system
Been leanin' crooked since before you were
Born.
And still- They point at you like you're
The Crack in the pedestrian way not
The aftershocks they triggered.
But Nah you're the one who learned
How to walk broken streets without
Losin' your pace.
You're the one who maintains truth
Like a blade tucked taintless under the
Tongue. So you spit it raw:
This constriction ain't mine this fault
Ain't mine.
This weight was innovate by hands
That never had to lift it.
I'm not the blemish, I'm the witness.
I'm not the burden-
I'm the blueprint of persistence.
I'm the voice they can't repose
With paperwork and excuses.
I'm the specifically of every person
Whoever got blamed for a system that
Failed them first. And I say it blaring
Loud enough for the block, the courthouse,
The whole damned state to hear
I'm not broken.
I'm piloting what was built shattered.
I'm navigating what was built and that
Truth, That's power
When you sort decades of electric cables from that box hidden away
It reminds of disentangling neurons haphazardly fired at random
It’s a beautiful day and you’re in it among sea saw and hammer
Hundreds of screws in the tool box and all you want is a single unbent nail
Somewhere hidden under plucky wall plugs and skewed rusty hinges
If life gives you lemons a power drill defeats convention
Nuts bananas and bolts mislaid in the fridge with washers and powder
Reveal the essence of an organized mind squished in the blender
Bedlam chaos fragmentation or glorious harmony
Synapses jumping like fleas on the mindful grey patched neuronal carpet
Heavily worn by August the Clown because a well led life is a circus
Knowledge pushed into action potentially in a meaningful way
Buttons in the haberdashery basket cased in creativity’s mad insanity
Knotted threads from life-long preservation of patchwork and passion
Enmeshed a few screws yet again and a bubble gum wrapper
And that hammer once more testing reflexes deflected patella and callus
A pendulum for more esoteric days and a Tarot card next to the cross
Saved for a rainy day of prayer and the coronation of dreams
After decade long quest a screw is still a screw whether loosened or nailed
The sander of unfinished living grinds on to an egg timer’s analogue fashion
And who an earth would prefer finding a rivet to crafting a poem
One possible morale of the story is that hardware plies softly myriads of magic
That in the wider scheme of things there are enough contraptions in the case
And once they start giggling and straying Pandora is happy
17th April 2019
I am at the end of the road with you
my lonesome dear,
get to the nuts and bolts
stop playing with yourself in the rain
the seeds you plant,
the red herrings you emit,
all chaff
your misery
all hatches in your head
your future
again, all hatches in your head
somebody needs to give birth
to a better outlook
as much as you read me
I read you as a book, too
you do see?
we're just like
two little graying doves
sitting in separate trees
that's fine
but you need to stop looking at me
stop talking about me
writing fairy tale happy endings
and then bemoaning your fate
honey, you had your oyster, pearl
you had your prime rib
right at your fingertips
within your grasp
you turned a blind's eye
a funny eye
you couldn't stand prosperity
instead you wanted to be miserable
that's fine
but not with me
so for all I care, honey,
go play with yourself in the rain
wish for nuts and bolts
whatever,
I'm exhausted with you
I am at the end of the road with you
... for good
... this time
connie pachecho
1/6/17
non contest entry
Kim’s decorations for fall are always straight out of a magazine
The rest of us visit her house and exclaim over her decisions.
Her parents are decorators, and I believe they help her with this.
She claims it is all her own idea, but no one buys it.
Because she is not a put together woman in any other area of life.
Her clothes do not match, her hair is a mess, and she looks dowdy.
Her house is impeccable; perfecto, and it happens while she is at work.
Two cars with Michigan plates are parked at her house for a week.
Her parents lug in bolts of materials, and bags of autumn goodies.
Kim takes full credit, and we let her because we adore her.
But we all know better.
From vivid skies the rain pours down with force
The wind and water follow their own course
Others are seeking shelter from the storm
Yet in this volitility I'm born
With primal scream, I ascend to the sky
My wings are fully drenched and still I fly
Amongst the lightning bolts I choose to play
Those who see, are fearful and run away
They think that I am of another race
Madness and fascination on my face
Electricity courses through these veins
What the storm releases, I count as gains
Chasing storms, wishing to escape this dome
If I'm lucky, one day they'll lead me home
For Shadow's "Storms" Contest.
I was inspired to write a sonnet after reading Eileen's Sonnet.
Written June 29th 2014