Long Burned Poems
Long Burned Poems. Below are the most popular long Burned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Burned poems by poem length and keyword.
Kneel at the cross
Eyes shaded from a tear
Sons and Daughters tossed
Lurking fear over famine
End times lost within doubted frost
Burned clovers from due time
Only select find the lost light
Un phased say all is fine
Count the clock for raptures sight
Bowing my heated head searching for an answer
All is coming from the one driven under
When the time comes, Golden roads await
While the unselected receive no pity
Anarchy reins over all city's
Black skies await on the next high
But sobering heat blocks the furnace
Scurry now, Gods wrath is never exhausted
Focus on the negative
Focus on the positive
All that's ever asked is why?
Liars and wires don't connect
There gambling, place your bet, roll the dice
Don't think twice
It all ends the same
Light or Dark
Pick.
Amen
In my house,
the women howled like dusk wolves.
But the men —
they sipped tea.
They stayed
quiet.
When my mother cried at midnight,
crushing her own bangles
with bare hands —
my father adjusted the volume
of the news channel.
He didn’t strike her.
He just… didn’t stop her from bleeding.
My brother knew.
He saw her trembling
when doors clicked shut.
But he tied his shoelaces
and went to cricket practice.
Because boys were taught
to win games,
not intervene in grief.
My grandfather,
a man of great wisdom,
wrote long letters on integrity.
But never once
asked his daughter-in-law
if she still had dreams
or just unpaid bills
and blue-black skin.
Even the priest
who blessed our home
saw her wounds
and called them “karma.”
The world loves
a quiet man
more than a screaming woman.
And so, the women burned
like incense —
silently, fragrantly,
forgiveness rising in smoke.
And the men?
They folded newspapers.
Wore clean shirts.
Voted for change.
And kept their names
polished.
No one remembers
the hands that did nothing.
No one accuses
the lips that stayed zipped.
But I remember.
I remember
every man
who stood at the scene
of a woman’s devastation
and blinked —
then looked away.
Because silence,
my darling,
is not innocence.
It is complicity.
It is cowardice
in a tailored suit.
It is the soft glove
over a sharp nail.
It wasn’t the slap
that broke her—
it was the eyes
that saw it,
and didn’t flinch.
Whoever abandoned you in the middle of the ocean has no right to know what the sharks did to you or how you managed to reach the shore
However difficult the time , they had the chance to stay beside and help you afloat till your sail was up and high
But they chose to swim away at the first chance they got to a merry ship of any land
While you floated and built your boat on your own with drifting planks of lone
Did they care when the storm came
or sun burned through the sky
or ever wondered if you did found land
Would it bother them if sharks would have made you meat
or you had drowned with exhaustion in search of sand
What happened in the ocean now stands amidst time untold
The story of yours that made you strong and bold
Give gratitude to the universe that drifted you away
from those who left you in alone and cold !
I scream for ice cream she shouted until her lungs burned
she was a tomboy with a strawberry birth mark on her cheek
she ran like she owned gumby legs and Popeye arms of steel
never wiped a dish in her life, she was too busy climbing trees
When she was home her tongue would never stop wagging
and the stories that she told took up all of mom's afternoon
She would dig into the fridge for freshly washed strawberries
then ask with a grin " when is the ice cream truck coming? "
"Dishes don't get cleaned by themselves" mom noted
Mr. Dunbar is fixing his truck, its going to take all afternoon
then she would pull out a tub of strawberry ice cream and say
"Dig in and enjoy the taste on your tongue" while Annie smiled
I scream for ice cream shouted a hoyden girl with wild curls
she could really dish it out when she chose to holler
when she came home with a tongue on fire from hot pepper candy
"Dig in, enjoy the cool taste on your tongue " mom said with a grin.
July 5, 2022
Words used : strawberries, dish, tongue, afternoon
I can hear your demons screaming
And I know you're hearing mine
Times changed you just a little
Now your beauty's more sublime
Sat here waiting for a reason
To be sitting here at all
Just about to leave
I smell your perfume in the hall
It's that old familiar feeling
From a time, when times were leaner
That Ruby dress to hug you tight
To show your cool demeanour
You sidle up beside me
Like things have never changed
Your image in the mirror
Hints a Faustian exchange
"The usual!", whispered softly
Your breath invades my space
"Whiskey, on the Rocks!" I call
A smile lights up your face
The ether closes 'round us
The world can guess our goal
Your high it matches mine
Its impression on our souls
I smell your scent, above your perfume
I know that you've been rushing
A meeting made in haste
Your Devils must be blushing
I didn't want to come here
But I never needed more
Your burning eyes upon my soul
Your heat upon my core
The heart is easily winning
It's like time itself, stands still
Our heads so lost and spinning
It's a jagged little pill
A fuse to light the night
A spark to light the flame
So lost in loves illusion
With you whispering my name
The way you wear your hair for me
It's made my perfect day
The secrets of the universe
Are but fingertips away
The waiting's but a passage
Worth its weight, for what we've earned
A passion running higher
Than the light of darkness burned
This moment's been a lifetime coming
All in this world is right
Sleeping's not an option
If our time elapsed tonight
We teeter on the brink
Of the open universe
To get it wrong, then right again
We'll endlessly rehearse
Our union made eternal
Our memory is shared
Your every passion magnified
Your soul laid raw and bare
I feel you, where I've seen before
My visions been replaced
A 'knowing' you, replaces it
My drink of you's been laced
Will you linger with me when July graces
the spring- dew of my breath
hailing the glow of spring's flowering?
How about the end of summer wind gliding
on ember of hope burned
by the heat of season's nights?
And come bitter November,
would your hands cuddle mine
in withered age when flakes wheeze
of a hundred vague symphonies ...
except for unsolicited embraces
ready to enfold you when
winter candles wax the torpid kiln of infallibility--
If so then lead me on, on...
while autumn spirals through
pensive intervals more frequent
than the drift of upturned leaves in a space
of unknowing-- how much more
can the eternity of seasons etch
the piercing trance of time's flames
courting moonlight's evanescence
where forever is but destiny's kismet, not ours ?
Tell me about ever after...my seasons
are hungry again.
~
1st place
In the high silence of Tibet,
when the temple’s incense was fading into the cold air,
the Dalai Lama placed in my hands a vessel—
a humble bottle, yet trembling with eternity.
“Inside,” he said, “dwells a genie.
It shall grant you the one wish your soul most longs for.”
I bowed, but my heart did not hesitate:
“Let me gaze into the Akashic Records.
Let me see the scrolls of the eternal library,
the breath of beginnings and the echo of endings.”
He looked into me with sorrow,
and whispered,
“Once you see, there is no return.”
I hurried into the dark chamber,
extinguished the lamp,
and pressed my lips close to the vessel.
“Genie, Genie, hear me—
unveil the Records,
let me know what lies hidden in the ether of God.”
The voice came, trembling and merciless:
“Once you enter, the self you cling to
will dissolve like salt in the sea.”
Still, I whispered:
“I am ready.”
And the world broke open.
I was lifted into a boundless library of light—
walls not of stone, but of living flame,
each spark a memory,
each whisper a forgotten dream.
Time was shattered—
yesterday bled into tomorrow,
tomorrow dissolved into forever.
There was no birth, no death,
only an endless unfolding.
I read the secret of stars before they were born.
I touched the tears of men who are yet to weep.
I saw my own face, not once but a thousand times,
shifting, dissolving, reforming—
and in every form was the same cry:
I am not me.
I am everything.
I am everywhere.
The genie’s voice burned within my veins:
“You wished to see.
Now you can never close your eyes.
You are the Records,
and the Records are you.”
I searched for myself—
but how can one find a drop in an endless ocean?
I searched for God—
but God was the ocean,
and I was already drowned.
And so even now I wander,
half sorrow, half rapture,
not yesterday, not tomorrow, not today.
A flame without a wick,
a song without a singer,
a soul without a name—
lost, yet one with all.
Farewell Mother Goose Farewell 2020
David J Walker (12/21/2020)
Old Mother Hubbard was
Dancing a jig
To a tune of long ago
The little dog laughed to
See her swig from a cup
Of his yellow snow
While little boy blue
Was tooting his horn
The cow jumped
Over the moon
Little Bo-Peep was
Singing forlorn to a year
That was out of tune
And little Jack Horner
Abandoned his corner
The candle had burned itself out
And three little kittens made
Face masks of mittens
And went on their way about
Then Hickory Dickory
Annoyed with Dock
Could wait not longer to chime
Pushed on the hands to
Hurry the clock
To end this weary rhyme
Audios
So long
Farewell
2020
Aufweidersein
Adieu
The clock will strike
Your final hour
As we wave goodbye
To you
Shipwrecked, strewn
By a storm so vile
Drifting for days
On the oceans miles
Blistered and burned
Dehydrated, deaths thirst
Hunger that hurts
Now at my worst
I'm losing daylight
Darkness is near
Slipping, slipping
Unconscious
My eyes are opening
To a blinding white
Pillars of marble
Incredible sight
Standing beside me
A visioned view
Golden haired goddess
With a smile so true
Her breasts painted
In indigo blue
With golden shells
In perfect view
Her torso not reflecting
Women i know
Circled shapes
On her ribs do grow
Sitting up
As i look around
Unfamiliar lands
Most different grounds
Window i stand
Amazed at the view i see
Buildings so grand
Awesome ships in the sea
Where am i
I wonder to my self
No place i know
On this world called earth
An outsider i am
To those who took me in
The same shape
And colour of skin
As i walk around
With this girl of blue
Is this Atlante-an land
That has pulled me through
" Hopefully, the first of many poems on Atlantis "
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/atlantis.php
His voice was loved,his colour not
Only the former him fame brought
Summa cum laude in study and sport
His origins drew him up socially short
Jim Crow laws were the sinister wedge
Which left him at his country's edge
His nation's shame burned deeply within
Denying forgiveness for his darkness of skin
He longed for the time when men would be equal
His involvement with communism delivered the sequel
At a time when McCarthy sought to unmask the red
So many suffered paroxysms of dread.
In 1929 after his London show he set out for home late
It was then there occurred a miracle of fate
Singing rang out sweet and crystal clear
Voices of Welsh miners singing songs to them dear
Amazed by their power in their penniless plight
He became their brother in arms that very night
Colour was not what bound him to them
But the poverty to which politics the lower classes condemn
So there was born a rich and mutual harmony
Between a star and a proud but poor army
They both knew the the sting of imposed misfortune
Refusing to give up their independence of tune
He bestrode the world like a black Colossus
Until he was pulled down by destructive bosses
Who would brook no challenge to their status
But his example lives on to fully elate us
This man ,Paul Robeson,a tower among men
Met persecution with stout acumen
He stands out as our beacon of light
For all the victims who fought the good fight.