Long Burn Poems
Long Burn Poems. Below are the most popular long Burn by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Burn poems by poem length and keyword.
You once called me stupid
How stupid could one person be?
Because you thought you were strong in deceiving me.
You once wished me dead, over and over again
Then drifted into darkness to play with my friends.
You once sang a song, a song from a blackened heart
But hearts of lies are never hearts; they are simply piercing darts
You once played a game, hoping to leave me in eternal flames
But shame can’t last and pain will pass
when there is a God who still reigns.
I now call you stupid
How stupid could you be?
To deny the God of the universe who came to set men free
I now call you foolish, you’re not so wise
Your entire existence is based on all of the devils lies.
I now call you damned
Damned if you don’t see
All you ever did in life has eternal consequences indefinitely.
I now call you a clown,
The clown of this whole town
You stole from lives and paralyzed when no one was around.
I declare there is an appointed day,
When you will fade away,
And wish and yearn while you slowly burn
That you would have just took heed and obeyed.
By: Sabina Nicole
Echos in time
Keep calling my name
Talks back with such negativity
Bad memories play over and over
Good memories on pause
Or even forgotten
I can't remember back to a time I was happy inside
It doesn't even cross my mind
It's like I've lost that flame that burn so brightly before i turned 15 and moved on to now
It's all a blur
It's all a race for an end
There wasn't even a starting line
I just dropped out of sight of me
It's mind boggling to realize how much life I have wasted
I am sure I smiled I am sure I have laughed
But I have never found true joy
It's crazy It's not even normal
To focus on so much bad
And not see all this good
Blinded by insecurities
Reminiscing on regrets
I don't have any time left to look for the beauty in everyday things
Just to awake is a blessing
It's complicating to me
But yet should be so simple
To carry on each day like it may be my last
Why can I not recognize this
I am way to damn old to be this damn scared of living.
Through the star-veiled veil of night where mystery unfurls its cloak,
The eyes of women, beacons flickering on the crests of the cosmic vastness,
I lose myself in their stellar abyss, borne on the wings of veiled darkness,
Like a pilgrim caught in a net of eternal lights, drifting endlessly.
They, eyes in astral flight, are keepers of the secrets of the birth and death of stars,
In the ribbons of nothingness, they weave blazing constellations that burn in the rhythms of silence,
I rise, I sink, in the canvases of rays that cleave the universe apart,
In their orbits, my soul finds its celestial harbor, an oasis of peace in the tumult of the void.
Ah, the night intertwines its soul with the silver of the milky ways,
The eyes of women that bear within them the reflection of lost galaxies,
Call me to dance, cosmic butterflies against a backdrop of stark blackness,
I bathe in their gaze, beneath the quake of time, beneath the whisper of star-swept skies.
Crowned with the aurora of dreaming, they, guardians of the unseen world,
With their eyelids, that flicker, compose symphonies of light, gravitational songs,
Through this maelstrom of sparkles, I feel myself floating, adrift among the night's rays,
In their ocular palace where galaxies are born and die, I, a stranger in the cathedral of eternity.
Floating in the universe, on waves of boundless longing, I drown in the eyes of women who once concealed resplendent nebulae,
I let myself float in the infinity of their arc, where each blink is a blossoming supernova,
A traveler in an ocean of astral glances, in their light I wrap myself, sweet and melancholic,
Through infinity, through eternity, carried by gazes that sculpt my destiny in the canvas of the Universe.
There is little love here
We are all just giggling gossipers
Seeking praise from one another
Why do I resonate with such plastic truth?
How can I empathize with an evil flaw?
We are all stupefied mortals
Strung in with the same strands of death
And even if I wanted,
I can never set myself apart from that
Unifying fact "We all have issues"
Yeah, drag me in with your empty exhilarations
Your grouping condensations
Look me in the eye when you say it
Make it personal
Make us all laugh
Make us all hide
But we cannot deny
It's a human thing
We are sorely universal
And there may be love to be found here
When we lay all these truths down
So smile on
And sail the next one
Onto the open sea
To sink alone.... Focus on the next
So the other star seems less bright
As you burn on just a little longer more
Only to die in the same waters
In the same engulfment of reality
When you know longer can speak
While some other unreliable fool
Tells your story
To other loveless fools
October 16, 2018
Sinking in sweltering fire
Angst rooting me to the spot
This denial-- feeding the liar
I swim in no emotion...much like a robot
Drunk by the flooded regret
Many the times you refuse my offer
All the time you refuse it, it forms a flood; masked with a tidal suicide
Your hoarse whispers refusing my cries
Wanting the best of my anger
Afflicting bafflement and torture
To a headstrong form
You wicked witch,
You could never burn, can you?
Sweep me to your wicked plans
Gaining witchcraft to burn out our limits
Your encompassed spells makes us endure to your power
Your melting desire-- a sour,
Despicable sense of pride in your presence
Devours the paralyzing thoughts materializing into evil paradise
You wicked witch,
Could you ever burn, you cruel elder?
Your on the other side,
Tripping on eruptive highways
Led astray by the senseless tide
Materializing into erupting paradise
Catch me in your web;
get out of your corner, killer spider
Drooling acidic lies on the pavement
Led astray by fetching fatality in your entangled snare
You already agreed to
refuse my offer
Uncooperative in your
bogus decisions
I gave up persuading you to go the opposite direction
But your bogus arguments
Take advantage of my offer
And shriveled it in its denser reasonings
I'm a flaw to your
sun-drenched heart
I want to be apart of your belongings
Tell me I'm not
rotting in denial
You already agreed to
refuse my offer
Uncooperative in your
stranger decisions
Your amusing, foolish girl
You have a giving heart
But yet you'll refuse my blissful offer
Mock my presence, foolish women
Remain a rueful scoffer
A thousand little moments,
one connected to the next…
Exquisite, time-sequenced pearls
from then to now and beyond
Ignore the strand, where it may lead,
and focus on the bead at hand:
one breath, one step, one vista.
Take it in and savor it;
burn its imprint in your mind.
Then, taking care to thread the needle,
slide it firm and snug,
and only then consider what is next,
and in this manner,
you will arrive at your destination,
having fully experienced
every pearl along the way.
----------
for the 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 25 Poetry Contest
sponsored by Mark Toney
written on 12/24/2022
These days the kids don’t learn
of what’s happened in turn,
they can’t tell you of World War II,
or when the White House burned.
Their classes all are lies,
since power hates the wise,
keep them dumb and it’s easy to
pull wool over their eyes.
Kids think they’re something ‘new,’
a shuttered point-of-view,
never told that it’s all been tried
by smarter men than you.
The lessons learned before
are hidden more and more,
demonize it so you can’t see
what evil they’ve in store.
I’ve a mind to search the sage,
find the truth that comes with age,
turn my face back to the sun
for what’s gone, but not forgotten.
Let the sunlight burn my eyes,
but I know I have to try,
see that truth not be undone
with what’s gone, but not forgotten.
Power must hate the light
that opens up our sight,
they’d rather dumb folks in a pen
than those who know to fight.
They want your kids to fail,
to strive to no avail,
they’ve tried before to rule free men
and they have always failed.
They know from the long past
tyranny doesn’t last,
thinking if they hide this from you
they’ll escape the die cast.
But history is clear,
truths of five thousand years,
learn what we are and you learn how
to make them disappear.
It’s a time to search the sage,
known the truth that comes from age,
turn your face back to the Son
for what’s gone, but not forgotten.
Let the sunlight cleanse your eyes
from the nonsense and the lies,
learn the wisdom so hard won
from what’s gone, but not forgotten.
Gone, but never forgotten.
summer slips its heated veil in September
a noiseless stride smoothing out
the numbing pace of leisure
we pull back to the looming pitch of harvest
revering all its bounty
twilight summer
as students on campus embrace renewal
breezily swept up in a spirit of new ideas
that burn through old ones
filters of wanderlust, discovery, concentration
that frame a path for growth
reclaiming the active tone of younger voices
inevitable meandering to fall
wanning hours of summer sun
that bring light's gaze upon you
a folding inward
in shadowy cooler nights
that knit round you
like a healing sweater
to forget the green that's lost beyond our borders
in the churn and flash of breaking autumn colors
Composed: September 17/21
All the things I never told you
Are all the things I never will
All the kisses I never gave you
Lie dormant, unfeeling, still
All the dreams that stayed inside me
Plans of how your heart I’d win
Are the dreams that haunt me ever
As I sit here and grieve my sin
All the fantasies I shared not
For they'd surely drive you wild
Are all the fantasies that burn me
For by you I’ve been reviled
All the love that I kept bottled
In my heart tight and secure
Is the love that rots away, dear
For this dying, there is no cure
My love, it is far too late now
To tell you how much you mean
For in your arms there is another
Whom you named your beauty queen
Still I sit here and I wonder
Think of all I should have said
Afraid I was, afraid and timid
To invite you to my bed
Yes, I could have warmed and loved you
Yes, I could have made you my king
Now I watch in abject sorrow
As your love makes her heart sing
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Burn, Ovid
by Michael R. Burch
“Burn Ovid”—Austin Clarke
Sunday School,
Faith Free Will Baptist, 1973:
I sat imagining watery folds
of pale silk encircling her waist.
Explicit sex was the day’s “hot” topic
(how breathlessly I imagined hers)
as she taught us the perils of lust
fraught with inhibition.
I found her unaccountably beautiful,
rolling implausible nouns off the edge of her tongue:
adultery, fornication, masturbation, sodomy.
Acts made suddenly plausible by the faint blush
of her unrouged cheeks,
by her pale lips
accented only by a slight quiver,
a trepidation.
What did those lustrous folds foretell
of our uncommon desire?
Why did she cross and uncross her legs
lovely and long in their taupe sheaths?
Why did her breasts rise pointedly,
as if indicating a direction?
“Come unto me,
(unto me),”
together, we sang,
cheek to breast,
lips on lips,
devout, afire,
my hands
up her skirt,
her pants at her knees:
all night long,
all night long,
in the heavenly choir.
Keywords/Tags: Ovid, god, religion, church, Sunday school, sex, sexy, sensual, lust, desire, passion, choir, hymn, hymns, devout, devotion, faith, purity, chastity