Long Breech Poems
Long Breech Poems. Below are the most popular long Breech by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Breech poems by poem length and keyword.
Setting: a cafe, chamonix, in hand a tea.
Across- a woman, seated, not seeing me.
Embarrassed I am,
that I, a questionable I,
like a lamb: 97 and 1 kilogram,
am engulfed by her,
like Noah by heavanly mer.
Can I help it?- No!
That this Helen
this doe
or maybe Annabel of Poe
has transfixed me so
No!
For she, unbeknowest to anyone but me,
has -- like a jockey to horse--
narrowed my vision, my every decision.
My goals, my independent roles,
are all now but foes
Dürers'crows
to that of this woman,
to that of this Syren;
A homeric vision calling my name,
my thoughts [set completely in frame].
For she is Femme French,
whose lip, whose tongue, whose
unequaled gaze,
melts hearts, muffles minds, and
spirits sets a daze;
She is a picture Romaine-
a poetic refrain-
a Cloud Loraine-
Tout l'univers(se), turning perverse-
all those once sane.
And when you, pardon- she
speaks; «please, more tea»
she, unknowingly, speaks to me,
wow, she trully speaks to me.
Votre langue francais,
what can I say.
We in the west, at our best
butcher and hack at our speach,
yet you- lyrically spue- a harmonious
coo,
a ventricular breech....
Our « (c)(h)(o)(c)(o)(l)(a)(t)(e), »
americanized, anglasized,
Is not as sweet as your---
« chocolat »--- taste that
mmmm-hmmm
tis better, the way you pronounce every letter
as in decrouver, or illuminer.
To think, that this, your verbal kiss,
turns me so amiss.
But lets ((focus))- back to the Now,
sitting in chair, starring at her hair-
tied back, pulled back, let's get abstract:
lips parted, bangs parted.
Her cheeks lifted- my heart uplifted.
Facial confusion!
Her eyes whisper, « mister, »
maybe sinister?
Who knows, maybeee... the nose!
Striking a pose-
Running, twitching, creating true woes-
in a heart that weeps, reeps, but rarely sows.
Now you can see what she does to me.
my mind is adrift, but who cares- What a Gift!
To be lost in her presence- a humble
peasant- in the present is a present.
So- I'm sitting in a chair,
staring, glaring, intimately at her,
seeking, searching, for our eyes to
meet, to greet, in lustful heat,
for her to return my gaze
and to be lost in that haze till the
end of my days....
But wait.... What is this.
Something is amiss.
A realization, a *****?
OH GOD....
I have a *****...
****. I'm just another creepy loner.
Form:
I know that I was born insane
to love so much the face of Death.
Insanity romanced me even when
a child still dwelled beneath infernal skin.
Why could society not understand
that all I’ve ever really wanted equals none?
They knew I never fancied animating flesh
but would not let my life be done.
I couldn't stir myself into the mix
of scribes and commons laying decent laws
demanding that I shadow the shadow cast
by some thin, mortal God.
I've always been enchanted by the doomsday trim
of lightness edged with Death’s esthetic claws
and yet, new dawns decreed I stay
and left me pinched in Life's stiff, rigid pause.
I pined away in darkest corridors for He
who could erase the curse of knowledge learned.
My Alabaster Wraith, He sat with me while Life
held me confined and counted out my every breath
as if a promise that he'd wrest the soil
back from my hollow bones
and press my spirit back into the dust,
so I might find some peace, in the unknown.
I often pled for cruelest remedies
that Life's more favored inmates feared
because each torture treatment let me glimpse
His lethal cowl and my demise.
Mere breaths and heartbeats stood
between my sickness and the cure
for Life's oppression of my soul
that lay too far on Death's frontier.
I've never sought forked-ray lobotomies
or sun-salts poured in night-stained eyes.
I never yearned for freedom or the sun
but revelled in the sweetest dreams
that I would breech the human warehouse walls
but not survive the birth,
become a husk of inert flesh allowed
to find asylum in the earth.
Restraint within a man-made tomb of Life
was all the Hell I ever feared and yet
my mind was so incurable that by and by
I was abandoned by the pious saints...
until there rose a hero on the still walls of
a midnight void of Death's sure faith;
He came and he collected me
my Alabaster Wraith.
Stone testaments commomorate a Life
I never lived or wanted to have lived,
a number chains my bones in place
where people forcefully preserved
Life's longing for itself.
My meatless parts communicate
a warmth for living that I never felt
but balms of death have healed my hate.
oh! little knife thou art so sharp,
thou can breech the wind,
thou can make a hole
thou can cut in half with a gaze,
isn't it enough to be amazed
I herald thee!
be my undertaker
sweet little knife,i pray thee
fulfil thy destiny
fall on me,kiss me
and take away my pain
foolish child beware of what you pray for,
my sharpness make my errands brute,
but I come handy in several ways,
believe me,it's not my destiny to take away your pain.
oh!dear rope thou are so long
relics of dead criss-cross within thee,to make you so strong
I beseech thee!
come stealth like a snake
oh creeper so mighty,twine around my neck
crawl round n round till you're satisfied
and be my necklace of death
crazy child beware of what you ask for
this sly flattery disgrace me
I am no snake,i am no vine
I can't crawl or climb
ungrateful as you are for what you have
go away and never come again
oh! sweet pill so white like a pearl
please don't tell me you're not what you ought to be
they tag you 'poison',so i can rely on thee
it's certain you'll stop my heart
slip down my throat,work your magic
next time i open my eyes
make sure it's heaven
I thought 'little knife' and 'dear rope' were mocking you
but your sad prayers proved me wrong
you're for sure a foolish stubborn
whatever i may be labeled
'to kill thee' is not it read
you wish for a land called heaven
but couldn't live in one
awake child! awake!
be not in some dreamy place
remember, life is not some game
that you lose it once and can get a chance again
hard time come and it come for sure
but have the courage to let it go
be no foolish and lose a gift so blessed
ask 'little knife' , 'dear rope' and me
what it is like to be
not to breath, not to feel
cherish what you have
and have faith
the master 'll show you the path
throw the knife
place back the rope
and kindly keep me down
relax and think again
it is your courage that can cure your pain
strangulate your sufferings
and poison your sorrows
we promise, we can't take away your pain
Für Elise
walking through the hidden realm of
my heart,
whistling close by me, a poisoned
dart,
burning lightning in a pearly orb,
the essence of my agony you
absorb,
echoes of a dog's anguished howl,
the opening eyes of a new-born
foal,
ruby tears from the eyes of an
innocent child,
a Spanish bull fight gone wild,
fiery chimera in a hailstone blizzard,
a multilingual emerald, flying-lizard,
purple mountain majestic mistletoe
kiss,
a rare sorrowful bliss,
a distant ringing of mournful bells,
walking along a rocky beach
collecting empty shells,
carousel of blood-hounds, running
on fire,
my only desire; to hear this
unearthly ire,
wretched arlequin, juggling the last
string of sanity,
this truly isn't a show of
subconscious vanity,
reaping emotions at such surprising
speeds,
along with bitter memories of
horrendous deeds,
diving into a sun-warmed tropical
reef,
floating with fire coral far beneath,
a lilytrotter on candy-sweet waters,
the irreplaceable smile of a
cherished daughter,
a blue fish dancing on a ghastly
moon,
corruption swept away by a gilded
monsoon,
a flurry in a race-horse chase,
no thoughts left to chastise,
shrewd smell of ancient tree-spice,
lingers in the unreachable corners
of paradise,
when the red and golden banners
are hung,
a far-off nightingale's song is sung,
the cresent moon, white-light
projector,
an involuntary earth-life protector,
darling Ludwig, you sly minx,
for you have put my uncontrollable
will under a jinx,
I'm nude, my true colours on
display,
until it comes my time to decay,
Elise trapped thee heart in Limbo,
full of shadowed stars and
powdered moonshine,
in a fairytale land divine,
treacherous Elise, make a speech,
of words no Poet can breech,
to thy trespasser, rowing,
in forbidden waters of longing
melody.
175 seconds of unabridged art in
blood...
© Copyright
All Rights Reserved
Resourcing faith, resolve, resolve
conforming brace of how
consigning brackets of identity, not slow
the entry of concern, between friend's row!
Yet, still enduring, we are them, their vow
this loneness of reserve, the leader's power
conserves some owning of their toilsome plow,
ne'er freedom is their choice, we rostrum flow!
Conviction, is it changing, holding stow
I am in constant danger, yet I show
ne'er fault, impartiality must go,
involving loss, my prayer is fairness more!
Now, join some unity of truth, the platform's scroll
my life, your life, let virtue breech, not row
the national incentive, debt's bestow
nor words impounding, restoring condone!
The truth's reserve, secession's teaming call
that space of joining, allies not disown ~
my ally, we are here, this cost we know
security's contention grossly stalls!
Where action is the limit, we face haul
consulting with our interests, trusts install
that destiny, called choice, reverses, mauls
may just be my endowment, just my soul?
Or all mankind at purpose, answers hone
to this our enemy is still at throne
the sterile overstepping overthrow
this outright pose, this policy's control!
Erosion not the strength of freedom's prone
this break up, not my cause, as God, disown
still showing honor's back-up, not renown
in earnestness compile, nor allies roam!
Up front, an ever pressing, selfless stone
the brink of character, so evermore
that freshness could sow on, immortal's cone
true learning, listening, never cursing's thrown!
To test our weakness, I would cringe somehow
that courage, entity, seems all condone
is interference' monitor's bestow
I plant in some forgiveness factor's cull!
Diplomacy's contain, the jewels roll
ne'er in that wearing coat of idol's bloat
this right or wrong, my energy console
does eke not my transmission's holding core!
I cant seem to find the happy
antedote to cool my negative
consequences--- malignant non standards
freud pennance desires to capitulate-re
the never know mores so the forni fun reins can be
pulled taughtly somewhere
inside lives a man who cares----simple
kind to all--pleasures akin to
mellow moon moments--get the
fish jist--uncomplicated---neurogladiolas
with leafs outstretched to catch
the morns love rays---fully watered
premise to a concubine wife unopposed
like all fetters released free to
abound under alcohol laden pods
in a swaying sequence water ballet peaceful in its
aloneness yet always ever seeking the never
true part ne'r so patiently ignoring---
Cancer quest staring you in the face
but cant be seen---know knows no
knowns eyes closed bloodshot--wishing
hard to overwhelmed joy visions of what could be--I know theres a palace in me that gushes being is a river raft of giving
tides unabated for the abandon quits warm of function
but in pure feet sense cant save
to swim in the same antidirection plan for a
single sec hard to find 30 days notice
self eviction would help but then whered i be
in the tunnel of soothing nonfixtures
riding on nosense syllables that
now sag to be a faraway foreign language
my own fault alcohol only a seed cloud
the deeper I think the more dense I look
in the wrong semidirection too quiet and
yet unyielding to promote a sick sense of
perserverance uncompounded like a gemstone past
its prime on the open market a bill past due
repossessed
folded catalogued drawn drawered in a
tightshell outcast lowbrow miniscule
catapult nurtured nonethe selfless retro
inconvenience breech birth brain divided
gray tipped shark heart profiled in opposite filling manikin lifestyles
I was seven ~ war coming on
living with aunts, uncles ~ parents divorced anon
the church I walked to ~ the road seemed long
in Minnesota ~ not woe be gone!
A Catholic school, name of Saint, nuns to teach their way
I was given a chore ~ first grader, to explore
"feed the goldfish" each and every day
my stomach growled, no food along the way!
I snuck a tiny bit and chewed
the wafer tasted wan, no flavor good
a twinge of guilt, not understood,
this was a curious interlude!
I did excuse my hunger's breech,
and mustered onward for the teach!
then years of learning, constant, same
'til finally my big day came!
The first Communion, dressed to take
white shoes, socks, veil for my sake
all shyness, but now I belong
I'm here and marching with the throng!
The priest with golden cup, signalling again
he handed me a wafer, round & white & trim
spoke, placing in my mouth, Body of Christ in Him
my moment up, arose from kneeling then.
It had no real flavor, & melted on my tongue
"it tastes the same as fish food"
I wondered what I'd done ~
it must be some occasion, to teach me right from wrong!
A hungry child in quest of food
then spiritual trek's renown
now, later years, abruptly all seems gone
embarassing moments, where conscience seems to spawn!
I've never stolen outright
just trivia here & there,
like extra soap in hotels,
and sugar packs, lunch fares!
Some queeziness reminds me,
what makes a thief get on
by hoarding others treasures
forfeiting from where they've come!
-cont'd-
I guess Lord, that's a lesson
the smallest feet guilt numbs
and on my pride's occasion
I wanted just to run!
The conscience's not a ration
it's vibrant, life, not pawn
the smallest errors echo
truth's hidden challenge fawns!
You lay in the surf waiting for me
Although Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr we could not be.
Trying at love with the incoming tide
Kelp and seaweed stuck to my side.
"Great gods", thought I, as I wrote the rhyme
Use "Adonis" and "Poseidon" from another time.
I'll let love be the center of the poem I write
And show all who read it, my emotional insight.
The pounding of the waters blue
Will be my metaphor of a love so true.
And I'll have to sex it up a bit
For passion plays a big part in it.
I will use "penetration" and words like "breech"
To add to that image of us on the beach.
With the romantic beginning I have said
And to the altar of love that I've been led.
Because I finish with our pledge on the shore
The reader will always want to have more.
So, the green eyed girls will be my poetic night
And close the verse, so crisp and tight.
Note: It took sum lookin' fer me to find,
Which of yer verses to redo in kind.
I be such a nut on rime y'see...
This'n be the one fer me.
Not only be the words of it I do,
But "Glad Tidings" title caught me good eye, too!
'Cause it be 'ard fer me to act on yer quirk,
Me spleen to trash one o' yer better werks.
As I be not 'fraid of a few typed words,
Trashin' me stuff as if'n they be turds.
So, 'ere y'ar matey, me own attempt whilst I be sprawl,
To change them words that ye did scrawl.
Me words 're somwhat boggin'
'Cause me be thinkin' what was in 'er noggin'.
And if'n ye take offense at me 'ritin' a bit,
"RRRRRRRRRRR emember that ye asked fer it!
We war with impunity
And weaponise such things as the
beauty of flowers
And all for what ?
When come today we have to guard the statues and Cenotaph that commemorate our fallen heroes
Only for them to suffer in death the indignity of being treated with such contempt for the very same right's and freedom they gave their lives for
You student's
You self effacing intellects
You political prophet's
You protest
You gather
You march
Underneath your slogan or banner
in righteous indignation of your cause
Such bravery
Such charity
Such courage
Such sacrifice
Once more into the breech
the rallying cry to those
with spray can in hand to vandalize
under the cover of dark with face hidden behind a bandana
I doubt their is anything you would be willing to lay
your life down for apart from maybe your computer and internet access
So next time you log on do yourself a favour and research
your family history and see if any of your family members
lost there lives and think there but for the grace of god go i
These statues and monuments are not supposed to justify or glorify war the complete opposite in fact they are
to remind us of the futility and human cost
but most importantly of all the cause Millions of people
deemed worthy dying for
I wonder if year's to come
how you will be viewed by history
Will people gather to commemorate you
build a statue in your honour
be you remembered by a bank holiday
Or will you hopefully end up instead being a
footnote in a museum
Entitled
When you don't understand your history
And talk before you listen
You run before you can walk
Cars raced passed,
As I patiently waited,
Nervously filled with distrust.
At a crossing where safe crossing,
Is now indicated,
This courier of fortunes
Not yet out of luck.
I pick up my pace
Like a man on a mission.
My thoughts now a vortex
Of possible plays.
But to visit this office
A long planned decision.
The matter at hand
Sheer providence dictates.
The doors open freely,
I enter within,
To the cheers of firm staffers
And welcoming smiles.
Word had spread quickly
To my eyes and chagrin,
At the expense of my privacy,
My name now beguiled.
The anteroom sanctum
Filled with polite pushy haste,
Containing serious suits
Who’d not rise from their seats,
Till proof be their witness,
No moment to waste,
And the breech of my privacy?
Short apology, hurried movement,
And onward at a feverish pace!
Careful inspection and lens,
Quickly confirm my declare,
Faces stiffened to stifle,
The emotional urge;
To rejoice while an outside call
To far voices is made,
Numbers again shared,
One through six, double check,
Final digits confirmed.
Moods shifted quickly
As reality spawns.
To great cheers
And some fanfare,
Till ushered away;
With military precision,
And much tinted glass,
Police guarding me
And ticket,
From mayhem this day.
Since winning the big one,
I've gained many friends,
Among them some old ones
Who at best were estranged;
Now calling me sir,
With no memory of past,
Nine figures and wow,
Both handsome AND popular...
...finally, at last!
© Michael Wegman, 2014