Long Bullet Poems
Long Bullet Poems. Below are the most popular long Bullet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bullet poems by poem length and keyword.
Tiger’s bellows
Forced out of their jungle
They were held in chains
Not beauty one can imagine
Of the lords of the jungle
So strong, and fast
They fight to stay
Slaves of vicious species
The human kind
They endure the lost of their loved ones
Because we have taken it away
Screw us, guilty human kind
We deserve all hate
We pretend to weep when our loved ones die
And not give a thought to who have had all nuisances
They fear our gun-shots, they run and hide
And I have all disgrace to our human-kind
To our pitiless men that hunt and never cry
I hear their yowls, I hear their whines
I plead God to help them through
Let them rest in peace
And let us all die
I sense dishonor, I sense all cruel
To our spiteful human raise!
Please forgive me oh amiable tigers…
If I could stop a bullet I shall never wait!
for video watching
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YNBYNFDsxj0
Death looks at a flower, screaming I am beautiful
look here I am, come eat me, alone.
Death hovers, smiling, never waiting, walking always
by, knowing that,
any thing that touches it will also soon, never die.
Death is love, love is death, why are you both, death
is your pet pink pig, and two flying pearls.
Death is a dry cracked nipple, sleeping, holding on
to the flesh untill it falls off.
Death is a bullet fixed, never moving, why does the
world move you through it.
Death is a voice always quite, sounding alarms to
walk across the street knowing you look while you
come running.
Death is a woman, who is crazy, thinking the world is
spinning into her coffee.
Death to all men who think they can save the woman
by marring death and eating her sandwich.
Death fingered you, you loved it, now you finger me,
leaving my bee exposed on the flower, you buzzed.
Death's own flower is always sweet and poignant on me,
It is always open for you to smell.
and it's red alarms, you ignored,
still here now it comes, alone, to see you as one.
The report was even louder, this time
I watched, Dr.who, slow it down
the bullet just spun through the air, de-
verb-ed tied to a string, dancing through
me in and out, you laughed at my faces
inability to comprehend my understanding
maybe one, two holes at the most but over twenty?
Heavily fruitful Jayne steeped in his personal assistant
did realize such fancies as delightful as you make
them sound need to be conserved for a much
wider guidance of divisiveness.
Happy wild Jayne plugs all the holes with her finger's.
What was I to gain by watching you give
me desert on a string, while I watched from the other room
not quite as hungry.
James McLain Sunday, May 3, 2009
A sniper is a waiter.
You wait for the target,
You wait for the sunset,
You wait for the sunrise,
You wait for the rain to stop,
You wait for the wind to blow.
Sometimes, you wait for hours,
Then, everything is over in seconds.
Most of the time it is a fruitless wait.
The gun is a lifeless too.
But a good sniper,
Can put a pulse on it.
Bullet knows no mercy.
Too many killings
Makes your heart
Cold steel.
Bullets are like savings,
Spent wisely.
A gun is like a lady.
The less you know about her,
The more you fall for her.
Not precisely,
A gun is like a man.
The more you know him,
The better he can protect you.
I tell you,
A sniper heart is a lonely hunter.
Not a word
I say with my tongue
That you will believe.
Truth coming from my heart
Lies falling on your ears
And you believe what you want to believe.
Not a word
I will write on your skin
That it is fake
Like the plastic smiles
Hypocrites wear.
Everytime
You say to me
That I'm lying,
It kills my soul
By tearing me into pieces
Like a hungry, angry lioness.
Not a word
My friend
I will ever tell you
And you will take it for what it is.
You have built a wall of fear around you;
It is truth-proof as in bullet-proof as in love-proof.
It hurts,
It is just disappointing
That I can not get to your heart
To whisper to it
How you're the one for me
And that I will be waiting for you.
I hate to say that
I'm officially giving up
As in giving in my resignation
For this job was not meant for me.
I can not melt a heart of stone
Nor love he who doesn't believe he can love
For he can never love in return
Unless he learns to love.
I hate to say
That it is all over;
My imagination,my fantasy!
That I can no longer wait
For a mute to speak.
There are no miracles there
Just as,
There are no miracles in love.
I hate to say goodbye
But I love to say goodbye
When my efforts are trashed to chuff
Like it all has been in vain;
For I don't want to be
Called a failure or dirty loser!
Worriers don't quit
They live as the worriers they are
But filled with worries.
I want to be free
Like a bird
And fly high
And soar in the air
Like an eagle
For I'm a conquerer
Not of hearts
But of hopeless romance
That yields not
A drop of lasting laughter.
Not a word
Have I said today
That is not true.
But like I said
You believe what you want to believe
For not a word
Is going to change your heart
Or redeem our love!
“Lay still, don’t move” were the thoughts in his mind,
When the enemy shot overhead,
He demanded he not move a muscle at all,
Else he’d wind up being all dead,
And he lay there alone, isolated from harm,
Not attracting a bullet his way,
With snap ricochets of invisible dots,
Flying outside every day,
Hours to days to weeks walked on by,
Till the coughing of bullets slowed on down,
When he dared to raise his head from his trench,
To see all over his town,
The bodies of people, death laying still,
More dead than he’d ever seen,
After the war of “us” versus “it”,
After the war with COVID nineteen.
Entered into Julie Liegh Quarantine contest written first week of quaranteen in Australia
She slithered from the jungle in a Vera Wang sarong
Like some wicked juju temptress with no sense of right or wrong.
I remember how it thrilled me,
Oh yeah, when she shimmied in the buff;
And that first time she let loose, I thought I’d never get enough.
She hid a wealth of smuggled goods among her cargo.
I was cornered and defenseless; she was turning on the tease.
Then she wrapped her legs around me in an anaconda squeeze.
She had something sweet to teach me,
Oh yeah, more than modesty allowed.
So I poured a gin and tonic and I let myself get plowed.
She dealt in contraband delights with no embargo.
She was primitive and deadly. I was curious and young,
Groping hesitant, yet eager, heart to heart and tongue to tongue.
I plunged headlong with abandon,
Oh yeah, off those reckless, dizzy heights,
Spinning through a swirl of colors, shooting toward a burst of lights.
I came down withered, drained, and blank like no tomorrow.
You can run a little faster, beat the bullet from the gun.
You can run a little farther, almost halfway to the sun.
But when you run from Tondelayo,
Oh yeah, Christ, her cargo weighs a ton.
I am not complaining.
Not that you would hear me
Even if I did.
But;
My father hates me.
I am not a story teller,
And I am no poet.
You can be sure of what I tell you.
Passionately,
My father hates me.
One winter night he burned my blanket
With the stub of his cigar.
He was not remorseful.
Because,
My father hates me.
One Christmas he gifted me a calendar of the previous year
Because he thought it had beautiful flowers.
To this day I appreciate it.
But it changes not that
My father hates me.
One day when I turned eighteen
He thought I was old enough
So he chased me from home.
What father?
My father hates me.
Regardless,
He says his love for me is beyond words.
I know he could take a bullet for me.
But,
My father hates me.
#StvnyPoetry
It's a lie really to call it a loss anymore
When the truth is I already lost what I was here for
I gave the love more than a few fair shots
Ricochet from each bullet left scars on the heart
The heart shattered so hard it broke the soul
A pain so deep it needs depths to console
It's not the threat that makes me so afraid
I'm more afraid of the weight of the pain
I thought one shouldn't have to make all the sacrifices
Seems the weight gets too heavy when it's all one sided
And yet I still feel bad for not wanting to feel anymore
I don't know if it's breaking my heart more because it's wrong, or just hard
Silent thoughts, silent shots
Silent screams, silent tears
Silent thoughts, but many hurt.
Everyday...one by one, lives leave earth left from right. Some old, some white, most black, and little of everyone else. People walk around saying "Gone but never forgotten" or is it more of "why? why did they take you away?"
Everyday..there is at least one black teen who life is taken away from them. Many wanted to make it in life but was stopped by a bullet, a gang, a different race, the same race, even "friends.
Everyday...everyday we watch our cops kill our young, intelligent people with NO hesitation and NO concern.
Everyday..people walk around screaming "black lives matter"..Do they realize the black on black crime that happens everyday?
Everyday..silent tears of families who walk into churches just to see the love ones whom is now in a peaceful nation.
Everyday...someone is screaming, silently. Screaming the pain away that she or he had to face in the past
Everyday... someone is silently crying and silently thinking about the abuse that they never asked help that was available to help prevent.
Everyday...someone watches a citizen get shot and constantly hears that gun shot silently going off in their head over and over again.
If black lives really matter...why aren't we doing anything noticeable to keep our black people or anybody on this earth? Think on it and try and help our nation.