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.
Deep in the piney woods
A call beckons across the branch
A call that isn't animal nor human
A call that makes your hair stand alert and skin prickly from fright!
The light of the full moon awakens the spirits and the calling from the piney woods.
If you doubt my story and risk your very life, then make sure you take a
weapon into the piney woods. Well, I believe the call is from the ghost of the moon
shiners that have lost their lives in the mica mines many years ago.
The mica was
big business one time until the mines went dry.
The deep holes were perfect cover for the moonshine stills until
the revenuers caught the culprits. A great gun battle raged until death.
Today the crumpled mica shimmer in the red clay is all that is left of the mines.
The local children like to scare
themselves with the
abandoned rock graveyard along the edge of the piney woods. If you look close at
the mound of rocks...it appears that there is a bony hand protruding from the grave
and pointing directly at you to leave. The ancient thick cedar trees seem to
guard the graves and whisper "Warning, Warning."
In 1969 there was another vilolent firey death on the road through the piney woods.
A man died inside a burning wrecked truck, screaming
"Don't let me burn to death" repeatedly until the bitter charred end.
When the moon is right the echo carries his screams across the hills.
A young man only age seventeen lost his life in a fatal car wreck on
the steep curved road. His life was taken so fast; he is said to walk
the hills searching for his sweet ride to
carry him on his journey, unaware of his eternal fate.
On a short walk along the shallow creek bank reveals an old rock formation covered
in moss now but built by a people of long ago. Maybe Indian or early settlers,
no one knows the architects but if you stand in a certain spot where the
ground is always wet with a reddish ooze. You can feel a cold icy finger
across your face and neck.
Is the call a young buck calling his bride in the after life; is the call an
evil doer fighting to avoid beelzebub's snare? The apparition can be seen
briefly if you desire look when the wind and moon are right. Waynesville
holler offers more
than beauty in the day but beware of the moon lit walks that
young lovers
brave or you
may be the next victim of the piney woods!
And this picture on the wall of my heart told a story of men giving birth among themselves in the north promiscuously...
Sipping memories from the lungs of the girl child.
They were not ashamed of the little ones watching their nakedness which howled at them mannerlessly.
We bathed the oceans again and again,
We made the sand shone like the moon,
We washed the sky daily to see clearly of what the earth has in stock for us.
We painted the earth and added more colours to the chirping rainbow.
Life became wet in our palms because we saw images and figurines of women whose shinning womb were made abnormal by men of yesterday.
And mother told of an innocent girl that killed her father, mother and brothers,
She was patted by the king for doing so,
As she told this ear breaking tale,
we saw the rain emerged from the ground instead of the lonely idle cloud that watched us through different mirrors.
They said we'll live forever on paradise,
They said there is heaven and hell,
They said evil people will be punished on the last day,
They said we will burn for thousand years,
But how could a father punish his children with fire and brimstone?
How could spirit burn in a fire?
How could we tell lie to ourselves and expect the sun not against us?
We have seen cock making love to a duck and, dog to a cat, and grandma told us it was normal.
And Father told of the miseries of the black spirit in our village streams,
How pouring of libation on the family shrine brings good wife and good harvest,
how rubbing oil and wearing palmfrond on your lips wad away demons.
he said there is a third heaven above us,
He told us why the He goat smells,
He said white ghosts do fly day time; he has seen the flashes of one of them at Benin.
After Christopher, I creed,
After Achebe I loved again
After Seghor
After Wole and Niyi' folklores,
After Habila Helon,
After Chimamanda's truths,
We'll retrace this fables with a knitted thought towards strings of our voices.
How does the patient dog eat the fattest bone now?
Does the silent cock still live for a lifetime?
Mother lied to us
Father lied to us
Grandma lied to us
Grandpa lied also
A mirage formed
Teachers lied to us
An illusion created
We are not who we are through those illusion told to us through their lips.
Yours Poetically,
©John Chizoba Vincent.
All of my children did come home
One at a time, almost like a metronome.
It made me happy, as I felt needed
Yet, when they wanted advice it was never heeded.
I love them all with my entire being,
Yet, not long it felt like they were fleeing.
They are now adults with lives of their own
However, for their past, some refused to let me atone.
My youngest one always acted entitled,
Then when he started working he made me feel vital.
Then one by one, as their lives moved on, it seemed they forgot about me.
Only on holidays or my birthdays did they act around me with glee.
Once festivities were at an end they found a reason to flee
They always seemed to prove my fear that they were there out of duty.
Then my youngest started calling me every day to say I love you
I started thinking I was forgiven for all he had gone through.
I was soon to learn how wrong I was
As he started rumors, making a buzz.
And soon most believed these rumors so heinous
He was showing everyone he was a Janus.
Somehow the others believed him
It left me feeling my future with my kids was grim.
Then one son came to me to talk about my actions
Talking to me and making it look like we were doing transactions.
Yet, he was telling me the things my youngest had said
Then he gave me an ultimatum that led me to feel as if my heart had bled.
The very next day, I woke up to a message from my other mother
Another lie told by my youngest made me feel like he wanted to separate me from his brother.
Now that son and daughter will not returns text or a call
Making me think they believe the lies one and all.
All because I was tired of my youngest using me
Threatening me that in my life he no longer would be.
All because I told him until he could talk to the respect I deserve
Somehow my telling him this must have struck a nerve.
Now he is trying to turn all his siblings against me
Using lies and my fears in order for me to beg and plea.
There are two he cannot turn
Oh, how it must make him burn.
He is not being an adult, but a deceitful child.
I am praying my other two can help me get reconciled
To the two who believed their younger brother
And have them understand what is going on with their mother.
Until that time comes, I sit here and wait
I have to leave this all to God and to fate.
© Kristy De La Keur Scoville
Dragon's back! It’s Easter Time and, Yes; we’re going to church today...
Right after the Easter Egg Hunt. Ostrich eggs were perfect, for Dragon, I say…
The Trolls worked at painting them, all night. They wanted them perfect., for sure.
Psychedelic colors seemed to reign supreme. Yes… with lots of crazy bling! De Jure!
Grandpa Troll’s carrying the BIG basket that his penguins decorated in ribbons strung!
His penguins got to go on the egg hunt, too It’s their first, but each picked, only one.
They couldn't understand eating eggs so we gave them chicks, that will hatch, so…
It’s off to church we go, cowboy best for the penguins, tending their eggs as they go.
Dragon has his 'Dragon Hood' cape with yellow bib overalls, totally covered in bling!
Beside himself, till we said he could go. Now he's jumping up and down, as he sings!
He's going to church, for he needs all the help he can get, along the way, true.
We're trying to instill, ‘What Would Jesus Do’. Strengthen his character ideas, too.
But HE thinks he's already a STRONG character, and it's given him great success!
Don't think he understood, what strength of character means, so his soul, God Bless!
So what's next, he ask?... Gee! Taking the kitty down from the curtains would be nice.
You SCARED her there! Remember! When you jumped up and down, once or twice!
NO! You can't burn the curtains to get her down! Gee! I think he’s MISSING the point!
She’s going to church to light a candle for you… to help you find… a better viewpoint.
Remember, in life… Make love not War. Make Friends! After all… What would Jesus Do?
Kitty is TOO important! I'll read you a fable 'The Lion and the Mouse', after Church, too.
No! He didn't squish the mouse! Sigh! Think harder… THINK! WHAT WOULD JESUS DO!
Hope it's an up hill battle. More likely he'll fly over this hill, between, just me and you!
He LOVES church and after his last visit, they rebuilt the church, which was… assured!
They built our group our own SPECIAL section… Of that, you can definitely, be sure!
The church thought, for a very long time, but with a sigh, they knew…WWJD?!!!
Then prayed some more as they cried, at the thought, of what Dragon could do…
In the end, they built a fireproof room, for no matter what they though, to be true…
They knew Dragon is Gods little lost lamb and that’s just “What Jesus Would DO!’
Happy Easter to You!
With the end of days upon them
Nears the time of final battle
In the halls of high Valhalla
Asgard senses its death rattle
In the forest crows the rooster
In the sky the sun does darken
In the cave the hound is howling
To these signs the Aesir harken
Heimdall blows the Gjallarhorn
Dark the rainbow bridge is turning
Vivid lightning cleaves Yggdrasil
Then the central tree is burning
Aesir watch in fascination
See volcanoes spew like fountains
See the heavens splitting open
See the oceans climb the mountains
See the continents convulsing
See the forests burn to ashes
See the sons of Mim awaken
In the fatal lightning flashes
As the winds consume the wasteland
From the south Surtr advances
With his minions tearing corpses
Bright his sword and sharp his lances
Aesir then prepare their weapons
Eyes are clear and arms are steady
The Midgard serpent Jörmungandr
Upon the battle plain is ready
With his heavy hammer Mjolnir
Strides the mighty god of thunder
To do battle with the serpent
And to rend the world asunder
June 30, 2014
N.B. This poem is an Epyllion, a brief narrative poem with a romantic or mythological theme. It is written in trochaic tetrameter, like some of the ancient Eddas.
Glossary:
Ragnarök - Final battle and death of the Aesir
Aesir - The Norse gods
Asgard - one of the Nine Worlds and home of the Aesir
Valhalla - a majestic, enormous hall located in Asgard, ruled over by the chief Norse god Odin
Heimdall - A Norse god who blows his horn to signal the beginning of Ragnarök
Gjallarhorn - Heimdall's horn
Midgard- Middle Earth, or the world of humans
Bifröst - the burning rainbow bridge between Midgard and Asgard
Yggdrasil - The sacred Norse central tree that holds the Nine Worlds
Mim - an Asian renowned for his knowledge and wisdom who has been beheaded. Odin carries around Mím's preserved head and it recites secret knowledge and counsel to him.
Surtr- a fire troll with a flaming sword who sets the world on fire.
Jörmungandr- The world serpent or ouroboros that surrounds the earth and grasps his own tail. When he lets go, the world will end. Jörmungandr's arch-enemy is the god Thor.
Thor - The Norse god of thunder
Mjolnir - Thor's hammer and principal weapon
1
Oh, gentle child, how doth my heart still burn
thine absence half a decade spent in vain
to break the bonds that tie, that fett’ring chain
that holds me from embracing thee, thyself in turn.
Thine all enchanting smile, piercing eyes–
thy flailing arms, the limbs, with rhythmic stroke –
responses soundless to the silent words I spoke
to thee before from thee Fate forced me from thy cries.
I watched thee grow through temp’rate times of yore –
remembering the gall’ry of my mind.
‘Twas all I had.
2
Oh, gentle child, how doth my heart still ache
thy presence all too far in distant land
where careless arms push thee with calloused hand
away from mine where once I swore thee none could take.
Thine eyes with tears I shared I shed alone
so thou might never feel the agony
the anguish, loss of my identity,
thy father, thee my offspring, daughter, dearest one.
I watched thee grow through chilling times, and more –
remembering thy portrait in my mind.
‘Twas all I had.
. 3
Oh, gentle child, how doth my soul yet yearn
those many hours oft upon my breast
thy head thou laid safe harbor for thy rest,
thy questions, mind alert, thy hungering to learn.
Thy voice I hear through dreams and zephyr breeze,
thou lark by morn by eve the nightingale,
as Dawn and Dusk, Aurora without fail,
thou hast my heart and soul kept warm with ease.
I watch thee grow, and will, forever more –
remembering thy sculpture in my mind.
‘Tis all I have.
4
Until we are as one renewed
some future date somewhere awaits
when thou her servant dare to flee
that which with thee so long accrued
where here I love and there she hates
that wily witch who bindeth thee.
Break loose those prison bars that bind
thy tired wings that flap in vain –
Renew thy pledge at length to find
thy youthful freedom once again.
Then shalt thy flags fly high aloft
while eagles scream thy freedom song,
while robins chirp with redbreast, soft –
all a capella – pure and long.
Then both our souls shall share their peace,
a father and his daughter, found
to spend their lives on borrowed lease
to live and die on hallowed ground.
Thus, take, Tai-Ana, this, my prayer
that fathers and their children hear
of this solemnity
that children here and everywhere
ne’er shed a sad though soulful tear
for all eternity.
[Finis]
Since the begining of days when my heart became an advocate of concrete paths, I have
come to understand the joys that are unprecipitated fears and the fears that are purpose.
For so long I have adapted to the muddy waters that breed beautiful roses with thorns of
such pure poison. Taking into my lungs the fresh air, this same air that is only fresh with the
will of foul principle, yet some how law. Speaking the language that has no sound and
somehow it is always too loud for its own good. Induction in the chase for things that keep
my temperature down in the summer while making the atmosphere a little warmer. Like
something chilly for my wrist ,neck, ears and hands. In the most artic of winters things that
keep me warm like having a personal zoo, mink, chinchilla, fox, rabbit, beaver, and ostich
and yet winters are still so cold. Realizing that somehow winters burn the soul, as summers
tend to freeze the heart. Love is the sound of nature and its remeberance of present. Eagles
scream through the air, colts break the pavement with 38 and 45 calibers of pressure. The
floating of land crafts with special made wheels, stars, spokes, claws, blades, all in chrome
reflecting the spite of happiness in this life. Delicate feminims that perform the sweetest of
actions with the audacity to control the wheather of man. Sunny days, cloudy months, and
years of storm. Pleasure is found everywhere and yet it is never found, so pain is the
blessing of that same pleasure seeked. With each passing day I appear cleaner, except for
my work related smudges(from the parkway to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the
community). All the things I want I have and still I have nothing. Today has been here a
thousand times and only once,tomorrow will pass as yesterday returns. This is where the
truest kisses come from angels, yet the only blessings are from the breath of the demon.
This is home, the city of hustle in the divided states of atrocity. So much passionate turmoil,
so much un-affordable affection that is afforded by price and un-conditional purpose. As the
tears of an infant blend with the crying of the clouds this waters brings hope of a changed
existence. One that is the best life, not heaven or hell, not paradise, but life as it could be,
life in a drop...a single drop... Of Rain Water! Live, Suffer, Celebrate!
Form:
In all honesty,
I never learned your name.
I didn’t need to;
The look in your eyes is your name
Like fireflies, they twinkle and glimmer your name
A name I love saying
The way you stare at me
It’s like I’m the color yellow,
And I’m painting away the grey of your world
That’s what you tell me
As my head rests in the crook of your neck, and your fingers trail up the bare of my hip
You’re yellow, and sunshine to me you say
And I’m grey like a pebble, soaking up your rays
I laugh
But grey is my favorite color I tell you
It’s the color of the skies on the days I’m tucked in your arms, because its too cold and wet to go outside
It’s the color of my favorite blanket that I keep under my bed
Its only for special occasions
When I need to cry and shake and let the dreams of the night know I’m not okay
You’re not just for special occasions though
You’re for every occasion. Every fight, every dance,
Every laugh with my head thrown back and my fingers tightening around you for purchase because laughing with you is like an ******, it breaks me, it builds me, it loves me
Even when you’re not here
I still think of you
I sit you beside me, and tell you thoughts, even when reality speeds around us, and you’re not really there
Even now I can sit you beside me
And trace the figures of your love with my eyes
Black hair, straight and deep. Sometimes short, sometimes long; I can’t choose, you’re beautiful either way
Brown eyes, deep like the dirt flowers and dreams can only sprout in, that burn like the hearts of spinning stars
Tall, and I hate it, but you always use it to your advantage to capture me tight
I lied
I love it
Long fingers, and you pluck secrets and whimpers from me like notes from a harp
God, I love them
God, I crave them
You’re my all dreams bundled into one, my opposite, my piece of the puzzle, my favorite melody, my infinite addiction
I can’t live without you
A day that goes by without you is another breath stolen from my lungs but what can I do because you’re not even real
Like Pygmalion, I’ve fallen in love with my own mind’s tortured creation and now I can love no one but you
I can stare at no one but you, and when the night falls, I can go to no one but you
To Orsino, how can you say women can’t love like men?
I’ve fallen in love with a woman and now I’m dead.
September 25, 2018
i need to stop frowning and epitomizing
and sell this Caddy to the Cardinal
trying to let it miss your attention won't fly
since writing is speech even if somewhat removed
or fit only for bouncy news anchor banter
pancake makeup a bit too aflame
like they do in shadow theater
where the container is the contained
because we can still index the cornucopia
eff you said the furry little May Pole Bunny
you can be sure he was in on it too
along with the Hen in the Willow
the Great Flaming Spiral in the Sky
and the nuns of St. Manacle
doing their Plantation Rebel Dance
with cascade of equally herkimer antecedents
perpetually enthused with the mystery of tomorrow
just don't try to tell me how to move my eyelids
smoke signals will always take care of that
cascading across the clacking copper contacts
in a total lack of continuity all at once
it is a pigeon tongue spoken in barter
barely able to walk after the derision of linguists
lobbed horseshoes across the barricades
against surgeons wielding kitchen knives
on a search and destroy mission
for chopped liver epicures from the Bank of Winter
living dead men's dreams was no picnic
memes eating my soul like red worms
only my degree from the School for the Sickly
standing between me and the Necromancers
who were emphatically not house trained
my collective unconscious operation manual
tossed on the burn pile half a life ago
now dumbed down to syntactically correct
in infinitesimal quantities with a Nefertiti smile
my mind a bordello of interpretation
God is not dead he is passe etc.
a raised by wolves feral non-conformist
everything orbits everything else
and that's space for you
which will bend yer crank kid
unless you can get your mood to swing
out from the nether realms of mourning
and the agony of oblique signals
written with the ***** of Satan
shaking money from your pockets again
a Conniving Backstabbing Bastard production
he hated coercion like he hated licorice
he was revolution incarnate all fresh and rosy
it was a kosher Pentecost event
tried quoting Lenin but it was too easy
the proletariat is people in a pickle
the dueling cucumbers of class warfare
now I'm on a dozen watch lists
followed by Diana's paparazzi
to this claustrophobic cinemaplex
and its temporal artery of light
at 3 in the afternoon
a good cheap remedy
following a bad diagnosis
Have You Tried My Slushie? By
Briar Rabbit
I don’t know if it brings the boys to the
yard
I’d want some time to myself
I think..
I think of angel dust
while
liberty belles call my name
cement and concrete as I leave the shrink
i am bowed down some
staring at my shoes
as I walk to my stop
I take PM dawn pills
For Purples edge,
Irony, I know
It’s bubble and burble
And bubble and grape flavor in my mouth
Chewy fat chunk of life’s worth
Like Nicki sticks to a wad
I chew it
It’s imprinted
Yummy and pink bubbles
Imprinted on the wrapper
Wrapper
Rapper
I like smoking
Smoking
Puro
Cheap menthol lights
The Inhale and the burn of the
Humo
In my nose
On the top and to the sides of my lungs
Smoking
Puro
I’ve become a Whiz Kid @ this
And I learned to become
a cowboy kid cigarette
aficionado
I watch my toes
Shoe gaze
Blow some smoke
Through my mouth and my nose
And then I breathe
I am a
Smoke Tamer
It’s purple-blue, tinged grey
Curls in form only real Wizards
Can create – Dragons, Curly cues,
and ring after ring after ring
When I’ve had my high , I pinch my cherry
Roll it between my fingers and test the
edge
Of this proto-promethean glory
Index to thumb
My butt at ease
And my feet alive
I pet a bug
Or an ambitious spider
Cupping my hands I put her back
in the bush. Apologizing
after letting her explore my fingertips
my hands, my wrist, my arm
to my elbow and then I let her know, no
gently
I cry a little inside when i do, because
she’s
curious and seeking comfort in some
shade
like I do.
Our feelings I think are
mutual
I am still..
Sticking with Fabolous
My slushie named orange and blue
Half to three quarters gone
I’m sippin it and three a party in
My pants, no ********, a wow in my
Mouth, and a brain freeze.
The brain freeze gives me a *****
Seriously.
I’m serious.
I cross my legs, lift up my hood
Arrange two rings and a cross
Pick at the crud under
My nails, maybe I should
Pull down my shades
Arrange my pant legs
Again.
Slurp my slushie.
Brain freeze and I’m turned on
again
I blush and pull down my hood
I’m still sitting at the bus shelter
I light another one,
My smoking curls,
Curling
curly-curly
curly ques..
MY smoke curls
MY smoke curls