Long Bricks Poems
Long Bricks Poems. Below are the most popular long Bricks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bricks poems by poem length and keyword.
In the world full of strange
I find myself in the hands of the enemy,
losing control to what I can not see
giving mercy to myself for being weak
Colliding with the ones, who are like me
I gain control of all emotions, except the ones I can't be.
I found this one true beauty by my side.
ignoring all the crying and lies
A sorrow so deep, I can't sleep
after I devour what I want
Rain will pass, rain will come
A coffin, a grave
Until there is nothing left, promises--promises!
I see the world from the inside
you see the world from the outside
it takes a better seed of beans
a life I buried, a life I intervene
no one can explain what I really mean
With a twist, I live breaking the laws given to men.
Loving the way the world revolves
a not so simple fact locked in the brain
a poet not to be in this world made insane
a loss of instinct, bestowed to roam above with men.
Only I can solve the lie about the truth
infinity will solve nothing
Like a scavenger, I look for prey, while you pray.
like the mind on an empty stomach
I pity the sun for all its weakness --light.
around the dimness of my life
I find the truly forgotten sight.
a rage with my life cut out by the hands of a knife
Exploring the power of the night.
in every so-called journey in life.
I walk the shoes of the ones I choose.
A path with my installed confusion, I produce.
in a mental state I leave upon you,
reading between the lines
the red, yellow bricks you follow
are the ones I laid to screw with you.
careful if you screw with me,
the Universe expands with infinity,
-- a study you call it chemistry.
Leaving me in this world with an entire flock?
the bottom line is the evil one has his own plot.
Me myself and I have the need to manipulate the ones WE want.
dedicated ~~ To: Nate D.
In my countryside, silent at sunset
Long gone is the stress, long gone is the fret,
Long gone is the need to be so wide-eyed
Silent at sunset, in my countryside
Calm now are my skies with their colors bold
Streaks of blue marry with orange and gold,
My mind long gone astray, as the crow flies
With their colors bold, calm now are my skies
Another day ends on my small hometown
It's old, sunbathed bricks now shading brown,
As dusk creeps in corners, silence descends
On my small hometown, another day ends
Down the sun dips behind my shadowed pines
And so easily now my head reclines,
Watching and awaiting some dreamy trips
Behind my shadowed pines, down the sun dips.
Last Friday was shall we say? An un-remarkable day.' Yet George Galloway
I sadly say was then 'waylaid' by counter
Terrorist forces.' Now he must have had
An idea? Such could happen.' To me that
Much is clear.! So i suggest he would hold
No info.? To cause him un-needed aggro.'
When leaving Moscow at the get-go.' So was this exerscise of article three purely
Theater (liza Do-little) invades my mind at
This point impertently.! He was detained for (thirty minutes) phones items checked
Yet no-things emminent were innit.' En-it..
Was this a waste of all our time.? And a
Cheapening of the defence act against terroristic crime..A stick of politic.? To shut him up if so 'its sick' and a show of
Poppy red.' What sense can be in starmers head.? I gaze amazed at such antics..In truth we all should hurl bat-bricks.' Metaohorically of course.! I think
Labour are indeed un-horsed.' Though of
The hobby type ' I only inferr of course'
Every scream has an echo.
In alleyways slick with rain,
Where mothers light candles
For sons who won’t come home again.
It rattles through church halls —
Empty pews, silent choirs —
Where prayers turn to ash
In unholy fires.
Every scream has an echo.
In the stomach’s hollow roar,
Where children count cracks
On splintered floors,
Dreaming of feasts
They’ve never known,
Sucking on pennies,
Pretending they’re stones.
It ricochets off council walls,
Graffiti bleeding names of the dead,
While men in parliament chambers
Debate the price of bread.
Every scream has an echo.
In veins carved hollow by rusted spoons,
In toilets that reek of midnight tombs —
Where trembling hands
Trade blood for release,
And the only high left
Is the hope of peace.
It hums in the silence
After fists meet skin,
When apologies are whispered
But bruises sink in.
Every scream has an echo.
It doesn’t fade —
It stains the bricks,
Haunts the drains,
Hangs in gutters
Like cigarette smoke,
Carrying names
No one dares speak aloud.
Listen close —
You’ll hear them now.
A choir of ghosts.
Stacked screams.
Stacked souls.
They scream for justice,
They scream for light,
But the echo grows darker
Night after night.
And when it circles back —
It lands in you.
In your chest.
In your breath.
In your truth.
Every scream has an echo —
And one day,
It will answer you.
' Better to walk out than to live in Fool’s Paradise.' - Poet
She had full faith that her love was honoured,
but marital life stood on bricks of lie.
Hit of thunderbolt from clear cloudless sky.
knocking her down on shock to paralyse.
She lived happily in Fool's Paradise.
Wheel of truth whirling just automatic.
She faced bare fact and acted pragmatic.
To drag conjugal life turned awkward.
Compulsive ' Break Up ' to proceed onward
Emptiness embowered: : She wished to cry,
but controlled herself and just said ' Good Bye' '
No question to adjust or to compromise.
So far, amour to appear as fake guise.
Inevitable divorce to discard.
There was a builder named Manole
-a genius in his craft-
His reputation reached a knight
who hired him at once
to build a stunning monastery
on the Romanian land...
Whenever builder named Manole
was finishing his task
An evil rain demolished walls
with envy in its drops
and yet again brick onto brick
he built his reputation - thick
So on a stormy day wife of Manole
Was sacrificed as she reached his site
With bricks and tears and tears and bricks
He sealed the wall - as pillar ... she with child -
While selfish knight heard builders on the roof:
"Next time a greater church we'll plan"
Demonic knight removed the ladders
and let them stranded so they would die
Manole said:"Let's build tough wings of shingles"
And one by one they tried to fly
As deadly force attracted to their Fate...
Since then the breeze is crying loud...with child...
for Carolyn and John's Contest "Legends"
***They love me/They love me not***
I tell you that I love you, yet I never correct you whenever you are wrong. _
I tell you that I love you, yet I support your weaknesses, not encourage you to be strong.
I tell you that I love you, yet I silently watch you lash out at others with harsh words, bricks or stone. _
Could my devotion to you be not from love, but merely from my fear of being left alone?
Why is it so easy for you to face your actions when we both think you are right? _
But let me have a different opinion, we're up all throughout the night?
You seem well at ease, and you sleep so comfortably in your makings ~_
yet my soul is disturbed, and unable to rest from witness of your undertakings.
I know that I vowed to cherish and love you, for better and for worst ~ _
Yea! didn't we both take those vows, and frankly, it was you who uttered them first!
I fear for the plight of my spirit, and for the end of my soul; for rightly now it is hard to tell~
will I watch you go off to heaven, while I go off to ____??
I often ask myself what I'm wondering
What's the riddle that has me stumped?
How much longer will I feel this way?
Why am I forever riding swells?
Endlessly lost on a familiar path
The same brown bricks I've worn away for years now
Forever searching for a new meaning for a tapped out source
Forever chasing a certain nostalgic high
There wasn't much to see outside that window
Couple buildings, a road, people clutching their coats
It was the first time I'd seen this land enshrouded in darkness
And as a cold breeze blew, I lost myself in warm food
So I've walked that same path a thousand times
So much so that it's lost all meaning
A world of infinite potential was lost in familiarity
Forever searching in a world of lows
When the destination is so far away
It's easy to lose yourself in the journey
Creating fantastic endpoints and starting lines
Pushing back anything that reminds you it'll end
I claim these bricks as a throne of memories
As my destination draws nearer and I've given up on this land
No longer a realm of bright innocence
Forever lost as a tomb of jade
And thus I sit on a throne of ice
Firmly attached to the past as I've ever been
Summer heat and winter chill
The two muses I eternally draw upon
Forever lambasting what summer has dealt me
Forever reaching out to what winter stole from me
Finding purity in old pain, and sins of ancient saints
Forever my Kingdom of High and Low
Whispers in the night, longing for your ears
To drown every fear
But the sorrow sleeps with me tonight.
Whispers in the night, saying a bitter prayer,
Gone the summer cheer,
Only cold snow fills me deep inside.
Remembering the fun-filled laughter, the dreams we shared;
Together we made it: built that home of kids and bricks.
Remembering the hurtful wards, the chemo and meds,
That instant you were mine, then reality killed me: us was history.
Whispers in the night, saying our favorite prayers
Seeing you everywhere
Your smell still lives painfully in this house
Whispers in the night: "Oh why not a few more years?"
There is still so much to share!
Nobody to hug and care for life!
Remembering the fun-filled laughter, the dreams we shared
Together we made it: built that home of kids and bricks.
Remembering the hurtful wards, the chemo and meds,
That instant you were mine, then reality killed me: us was history.
I (think) I Remember Gorton
by Bob Moore ©2019
I used to live in Gorton
a cosy little nook
in the shade of the Pennine Hills
by Blackie’s babbling brook
Jackson’s clay pit was where we made
the bricks to build our home
it was a playground for our children too
so they would not need to roam
The people were all friendly
the children were all polite
but we kept that to ourselves
didn’t need the kind who fight
We spread the word that we were tough
so don’t you come around
we don’t need bother causers
bringing trouble to our town
I left there many years ago
and I hear the stories now
of how Gorton is out of control
and I wonder if, somehow,
Are these still the same old stories
we used to tell, to keep people away
or is it true, that after all these years
my Old Gorton has gone that way