Long Burdon Poems
Long Burdon Poems. Below are the most popular long Burdon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Burdon poems by poem length and keyword.
I have walk through the tunnel of life
burned down the kingdom of burdon and strife
seen through the eyes of GOD
and yet my heart still hurts inside
I have walk upon the river of shame
in my mine I am the only one to blame
In my life of abandonment only and angry person was born
For them to believe that all evil is gone
Is for their souls to walk with the unborn
I have glanced at the future and saw only but pain
men minds are empty so hard for them to sustain
money and gold their is no gain
fires only the smell of propane
This that I see OH GOD it's so real to me
It's harder then a knife this thing i speak of is life
time and time again life was gone again
not naturally but by men
war upon wars they seem to have no end
peace and love come back again
the people have fed the world a pain
how long do we thank it will sustain
i put my heart and soul into this
will they stop and listen to the abiss
the world is coming to and
now later and again...
It was far from being a match made in Heaven
More so like a match that ignited the fires in Hell
We took turns playing arsonist
Setting love ablaze
Our memories broken branches used for kindling
Torn from the trees of suspicion
We accepted the fate of the flames we ignited
Lunacy that burned woodlands of our passion.
She said it was okay we were both crazy
We just couldn't be crazy at the same time.
Our madness combined would ignite an inferno
Flames scorching forests of our souls.
Lighting a path to a future of ashes.
The heat from a fire leaving both of us cold.
JSB
Judge Santiago Burdon
Stray Dogs and Deuces Wild, Not Real Poetry, Quicksand Highway, Fingers in the Fan, Tequilas Bad Advice, Lords of the Afterglow, Overdose of Destiny, Architect of Havoc
She is intrigue in denim, dressed with just a whisper of leather, which confirmed she wore lace underneath, there's a delicate strength in her voice, a lunacy that sings in her laughter, a tenderness you can read in her smile, lips blushing with the color of wisteria petals, beware, her eyes will eat you whole, there is a sophistication in her simple manner, yet an enigmatic element difficult to discern, there's a double edged darkness in the aura surrounding the elegant hue of her allure, her portrait contains a piece of every woman I've ever loved, as well as every woman I will ever know,
She is intrigue in denim.
Judge Santiago Burdon
Stray Dogs and Deuces Wild, Not Real Poetry, Quicksand Highway, Fingers in the Fan, Tequilas Bad Advice, Lords of the Afterglow, Overdose of Destiny, Architect of Havoc, A Charlatan's Aphorisms Junk Drawer Poetry
The Lost Art Of Composition
too often my thoughts and the ability to express them
are taken hostage without a clue to the cause
this is an affliction familiar to many a writer
as if madness wasn't enough
it proves to be immune to every method I've used
to relieve my minds constipation
it enslaves your ideas and duct tapes the mouth of your soul
binds your fingers and hands so you are unable to write
I Whiskeyed and Scotched it self medicated with drugs
the addiction that resulted I thought could be bribed
held a knife at its throat threatened, bullied and beat it
poked and scratched at the eyes
Kicked it in the balls
pleaded and begged even got on my knees and prayed
all my efforts were ineffective
it only pissed it off more and tightened the grip
around my Muse's neck
I had exhausted my resolve to this disease that consumed me
there was no other option but to surrender
I decided to give up , knuckle under call it quits
not answer the bell for the next round
I disconnected my computer and turned off my cellphone
the typewriter on my desk just for show
I've had since college every once in a while I have at it
so I stashed in the closet with books by Sexton, Wolfe and Burroughs
Cisneros, Bukowski and Gonzo
I turned down the lights and lit some candles
sat at my desk to prepare my suicide note
what happened when the ballpoint touched the papers surface
was the key opening the front door lock to home
an energy manifested that I had known long ago
before Technology had deadened it's nerves
it sparked the transfer of thought into a word
forming the shape of a sentence
this cosmic electricity flowed into my hand holding the pen
then designed a paragraph the child of chapter
I touched every noun felt each verb envisioned the adjectives description
heard every "ly" in the adverbs reply and ignored the rules of punctuation
I had discovered the remedy to restore my inspiration
the cure I possessed all along
The lost art of composition was my salvation
my own prescription is what I wrote
the poet is an artist that paints in the darkness
a poems words the colors that create light
a writer is blessed with all of the answers
cursed in the search for what questions to ask
Judge Burdon
Grilled Cheese Hold The Memory
By: Judge Burdon
If I only knew what you were thinking
I'd feel warmer against the cold
Than with my coat
Avoiding the words I've heard
Crying out to be spoken
Regretting the letters I never wrote.
Sure has been quite a while
since I've seen you last
How the years they've passed us by
The tears we've cried have long been dried
Things have changed they always do
We're both different now
It doesn't matter anyhow
Tell me how've you been
Still smiling I guess permanently
Hope that smile is for me
I've been living out west in Tucson
Ya know fun in the sun
Just getting by but not by much
No bad times although still don't have a dime
to my name
Chicago hasn't changed it still seems the same
You say they had a lot snow in Wisconsin
It gets oh so cold and the wind it blows
so damn hard
I'm still smoking and playing guitar
But I'm not getting far
So tell me did you find that special someone
Who you would make sure
to be nothing like me
I know l made a mess of love
Like dirt l swept it under the rug
To be forgotten
Thanks for the great grilled cheese
Oh how we survived on these
Every time I eat one it brings back fond memories
Of you know back then
Another cup of coffee then I've got to run
That's such a good line especially at this time
Don't say we'll keep in touch or how much
you've missed me
Just stopped by for your famous grilled cheese
And a broken memory that can never be.......
Long ago when fairy tales and fables
Defined that period in time
There's a story seldom told
Of a Dyslexic Shepherd boy
Who guarded the town's flock
From a wolf with hungry eyes
The Mayor said to cry Wolf when he attacked
Then townsfolk would run to his aid
never should he raise a false alarm
The Shepherd Boy before him
knew the rule but disobeyed
He played a joke by crying Wolf
when he wasn't around
He thought it so funny
To call out a false alarm
Making everyone to come running from town.
He played his joke a few more times
Soon not a single villager would react
Then came the night when the wolf made his move
And he cried out that the wolf had attacked
Not a soul ran to help him to fight off the wolf
They heard his pleas but they went by ignored
He was alone to face the vicious wolf Without the villagers support
In the morning when they checked on the Shepherd Boy
His outcome was horrifying and grim
It happened that after his many false alarms
The joke was actually on him.
The Dyslexic Shepherd Boy made a promise
He would never call out a false alarm.
As long as he didn't play tricks
He would never come to harm
The night came when the wolf attacked
He screamed for the townsfolk below
they thought it was a trick
because the Dyslexic Shepherd Boy wasn't crying 'WOLF'
He was screaming 'FLOW'
JSB
Judge Santiago Burdon
Stray Dogs and Deuces Wild, Not Real Poetry, Quicksand Highway, Fingers in the Fan, Tequilas Bad Advice, Lords of the Afterglow, Overdose of Destiny, Architect of Havoc .
In that winter evening, I dread what I saw..;
The pain as the little child cried..!!
Left on the huge pile of straw..;
Shivering and crying the child look tired..!!
No one at sight, to answer the poor angel’s plight..;
Not a piece of cloth to shield her from the chilly breeze..;
Though the face now pale, eyes are still so bright..!!
Child is crying as she suffers in the natures might..!!
What wrong could she have done..??
Is being a girl is such a Burdon..??
Such a beauty but still left to die..;
I can see she is hurt as she has a bruised black eye..!!
I just can’t see her cry..;
I can’t help her, as she is not in the same world as I..!!
Slowly the loud cry turned low..!!
I knew she would die and that too slow..!!
How is this fair I wondered..??
The poor soul is dying ..;
As this world is no longer the place I loved..!!
The one I loved the most,
Has become worst than the wild..!!
Now even I pray for the angel to die..!!
Come back angel, come back to me..!!
I can’t even be forgiven..;
For the one who created this jungle is no one but me..!!
But never did I thought, my presence would be forgotten..!!
Love would be forgotten while hatred will prevail..!!
This world is to end sooner than I thought..;
As in that winter evening, I saw what I always dreaded..!!
Form:
Just because I can
Don't mean I should
Or is any good
Is of little use
Or burdon of proof
Leading to a headline breaking top story
On the News at 10
But then again
So aren't the indulgences
Of what passes for news
On the day to day
All consuming want for gossip
That prepositions truth is boring
And the only thing worthy of reporting
Is if another anonymous insignificant reality star
Is planning a fake marriage
Or pregnancy number 5 with spouse number 6
And the Facebook's clicks
Or Twitter followers
With lives so empty
They read while driving
Because nothing is more important
Than sharing senselessness tat
That if we readed back in the cold light of day
Would make anyone have a good long rethink
About the direction life has taken
If this is how one is to spend time
Rather join a convent or a cult
At least they have a point
Because to be both frank and blunt
Wasting time being a sheepish runt
On Social Media
Is about as fulfilling
As salad on an carnivorous diet
Don't buy it
Don't try it
And just maybe it will go away
And reality will forgive us and come back
Fonty was a vegan Vulture.
Other Vultures tried to offer their advice
Told him they were created as carnivores and eating
meat
Is an essential part of their diet.
He stayed true to his commitment to be a vegan
Ate fruit and berries but they never satisfied his appetite
He resulted to stealing stale bread from pigeons
Crows kept him away from the cornfields
He was too weak to put up a fight
The Vulture Committee knew he wouldn't last much longer
Sure enough he died from starvation
The Volt joined together as a Wake and all said a prayer
Then they quickly ate him.
Judge Santiago Burdon
Stray Dogs and Deuces Wild, Not Real Poetry, Quicksand Highway, Fingers in the Fan, Tequilas Bad Advice, Lords of the Afterglow, Overdose of Destiny, Architect of Havoc .
Legend of Fosse Way
Riding hard under a moonlight high
not a leaf rustling and it troubles my mind
In the distance there's music of the lyre and flute
rippling over the moors
Serenading the stars
The voice of a maiden
bleeds it's way through the thick darkness
Singing an ole Bawdy Pub Song.
My steed swift at a gallop
hooves sound their click clack
As we cross Halford Bridge
No time to be wasted
seeking comfort at the Inn
History demands I deliver this message
The dispatch I carry holds the future of England
I must make Exeter Castle by dawn.
No matter the risk or danger I encounter
It is crucial that I press on
Two Queens vying for the throne of England
Not even God can decide which be the righteous one
Protestant or Catholic not the reason for choice
A Queen must have love for Mother England
coursing through her blood
Forrest fairies ring the bells on the Fox Glove
The Oaks without expression and still
A rare breeze slaps the sleeping grasses in the glades
In the marsh toads croak complaint to night’s chill
This road is dominion of Highwaymen and thieves
Robbing those that choose this way to travel.
By the will of God and the Bishop's blessing
I will pass undetected by scoundrels and rabble
Nourished only on bread and Brambleberries
Traveling in the cover of night taking sleep by day
All that I've seen are ghosts of Roman soldiers
On this thoroughfare known as Fosse Way
If by the hand of God or the Devil
I meet with an untimely death
And I am unable to tell tale of this ride
Let not my story meet the same fate
Say my name Nigel Foster be mentioned in yarns
told in pubs and taverns .
History will decide if I am a Patriot or Traitor
As a result of my actions
When the years pass into the future
Don't let me be a lost memory of yesterday
If by chance may I live on
as one of the many legends
The many legends of Fosse Way.
Inspired by Alfred Noyes poem “The Highwayman"
And in memory of my distant relative,
Robert Devereux 2nd Earl of Essex.
Judge Santiago Burdon
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