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.
Left to My Devices
Here I sit. You are gone—oh, the trouble there will be!
Your invite was a special one that didn't include me!
I get the notion, the evening off, a quiet thing for you,
But was leaving me unsupervised a clever thing to do?
I might watch a film, or try to cook, or cause a lot of stress,
I'm like a toddler hopped on sugar, completely leaderless!
I think I'll make some scrambled eggs for supper in a pan,
But somehow I have burned the water—I'm a lethal cooking hand!
Perhaps it was the bass turned up as I danced around the room,
When FedEx dropped a package off and interrupted with a boom!
If you were home, you'd hide away and lock the doors, I suppose,
But I fling it open to the wind, half-naked to my toes!
I'm glad you're not home to see this disaster; the kitchen is a mess!
The driver is calling for backup to salvage this address.
The smoke alarms scream, the dirty engine parts are soaking in the sink...
I'm moving way too fast and haven't got a single second to think!
A quick check of the clock—oh God, you'll be home by nine!
I sweep the flaming eggs beneath the rug and pray the floor is fine.
The frying pan is melted through (alas, your favorite one)...
Guess I'll have to bribe you later with a massive shopping run!
But we had some fun while you were gone, of this there is no doubt!
I've paid the traumatized delivery man so word will not get out.
I guess we're cool, 'cause he choked down those eggs to show me who is boss,
And washed away the memory with a pint of hot Tabasco sauce!
The apocalyptic nature of my many household crises,
Is exactly why I'm never left to my own devices!
Beyond the maple hills that have fought many storms,
gales don't disturb the meadow of grape hyacinths:
observe the Aurora Borealis paint the soft azure sky
into a glittering, robust gold which the fading moon envies
as thick dew starts dripping from them like idle rain often does...
Over there a varicolored aura of glitter always appeared,
and from a run-down shack blue grass was played on time...
drunken with buck beer, the big fellow with frizzy, red hair
anxiously stepped outside and started the ritual of vain fools:
thinking that fire would have burned the Earth and he would have died.
Bobtails watched him and wondered what made
his face so red and his dirty feet miss a step as he fled
to reach the meadow of grape hyacinths to cry out and curse God,
but his cussing nobody heard while his anger increased into the unfolding dawn...
exhausted from screaming he got up listening to a rustling sound coming from behind.
He looked around and saw nothing moving,
" It must be a squirrel searching for food, " he thought to himself
then a swishing wind knocked him down and an eagle swooped down to seize his beer,
" From now on, I'll never return to the meadow of grape hyacinths! " he vowed.
As time went on, he forgot his promise to never go back,
but one spring morning getting up early to watch the brilliant dawn from his shack,
he remembered the meadow of grape hyacinths and with the strong urge of seeker...
he raced there to catch the last rays of that sunrise to proclaim himself its keeper.
The beauty that's in words divine
coming as they do from the Lord
nothing unclean can there be found
for God's word sharper than any sword
Every word of God is pure
coming down from eternal light
God can't look upon any sin
looking away as dark is night
Silver shines above all else
for it's tried in furnace of fire
in the earth where it's so burned
like all lies in tongues of aq liar
Seven is a number most divine
for in that number lies perfection
but God only is without iniquity
being truly the one true connection
Hold on to God's pure words
much more valuable than silver
where would we be without our Lord
receiving the blessed divine giver
(“The words of the LORD are pure words: as silver tried in a furnace of earth, purified seven times.” )
Psalms 12:6
Thickened and scarred, my mask bears the burden of time,
Torn, stained, this tough shell silently unravels,
And yet, somehow, it continues to keep me alive, to protect me from the world,
It was never a shining armor, just my mask,
Trying to compensate for all that I could not be.
Sensitivity and tenderness were sacrificed on the altar of necessity,
To become my shield against the sharp and merciless wind,
My mask has burned, boiled, swelled under the relentless sun,
I treated it harshly, underestimating its silent and constant value,
Wearing it reluctantly through this sad, often unforgiving life.
I made it suffer more than it should have, under my weight,
Never acknowledging its silent and priceless sacrifice,
It, my mask, was there when I was not,
Remaining behind me, a testament to all the battles fought,
A story written in scars and burns, in its trenches of pain and silence.
Will I ever learn to truly value it, to appreciate
This mask that has borne my burdens with dignity,
To understand that it is not just a covering, but part of who I am,
A testament to my resilience, a map of survival,
That continues to defend me, despite all my mistakes?
I smell fresh light wafting
near this dissolving darkness
I hear its faint ringing
the second hand ticking
while the refrigerator hums
and the distant driver drones
I tensely anticipate
the first tweet to ripple the silence
a tentative answer
an assertive reply
a confident rejoinder,
the ensuing cacophony of chirps
and
the distant driver cross fading
into the morning commute.
So
right now
in the warmth
of this darkness
before
the tiniest
glimmer
glints
before
the bubble of dawn
creeps in
and blasts it away
before
it's burned
in the cold cruel reality of
all consuming light
I'm holding onto this
precious moment
oh, where shall I fix my eyes upon the end
for man has taught me to look forward in time
in admiring the signs to take place
in order for the Lord to return
what do we know so much of the beginning
in which we have the knowledge of the end
the Lord and our soul have no end
for all for the end to come is vain
for they did not recognize the Lord when he came
and still do not submit unto his calling
to be unified and walk as one
the signs we should embrace
is the spirit no one knows where it comes from
or its path it is headed,but is left in awe by
the change and transformation created within
the end in which I seek is in plain view
from which the Lord fulfilled
in that day when he paid the ultimate sacrifice
all is complete and placed under his feet
that he might come and dwell within
to shine his light unto a deceived world
to put an end in our walk alone
that we might see we are the beast
in which must be lead to the cross
to become aware of the end of flesh is the end
that we must be burned away and purified
allowing the birth of Jesus to rise
for only through the Lord shall our
carnal and corrupt desires be laid to rest
the Lord returned as a trumpet
in the day I called out broken
from this time I tried to please the Lord
thankfully I am reminded I am a leaf and he is the tree
all our strength and support must come through him
before we can see the end
we must become aware we are dead without christ
for only through the Lord shall we be raised
with a quicken spirit to mortify our earthen vessel
to put an end to our earthy knowledge
and instill the knowledge of truth united as one
no longer longing to seek praise of man
but seeking to give glory unto the Lord
Stranded..
I am walking and walking
Cannot find Anyone
Civilization seems non existent
My only companions are the creatures of the forest..
As they roam freely..
These creatures are at home..
As my home seems one million miles away..
Lost and alone I feel..
Anxiety sets in..
Very little food left..
Very little water left..
I cannot stop moving..
I must continue.
With a dry mouth..
Cottonball effect..
Lips utterly chapped..
Painful blisters appear..
Full body fatique..
Knees feeling weak..
Cannot continue..
I must stop to rest..
Few sips of water to drink..
I must conserve..
Sun is beating down on me..
Scorching hot sun..
Sun burned..
Almost seeing double..
I will rest under a fine old oak tree..
Sitting under the old oak tree..
Body leaned againt the old bark..
I close my eyes..
I am in a deep slumber..
Awakened by a Pleasant looking couple..
Was I dreaming?
As there is human interaction..
My wife and I are lost..
We are hungry..
We are thirsty..
Please can you spare water?
Please can you spare food?
Yes..
For I have this bottle of water..
You two can share..
I have little food..
You two can share..
Gracious smiles on both their part..
Warm embraces..
Followed by many thanks..
To my dismay..
No water was left..
No food was left.
As I..
Lifted my head..
No couple..
Completely vanished..
I shouted ..
Continued shouting..
No signs of gracious couple...
Mirage perhaps?
Delirium is setting in..
Continue to walk..
I see a well..
Beautiful well it is..
Captivated by its beauty..
A woman with a cheerful smile..
Offers me water..
To drink from the well..
You are thirsty..
You must drink from the well..
The well is plentiful..
Water is plentiful..
You are plentiful..
You have already drank from the well..
You have given abundance to those in need..
When you give..
You shall always receive more..
I am the girl that plays with fire
got burned so many times ,
got burned so many times .
But there is nothing more satisfying
Than feeling them flames
slowly advance from eyes to heart .
At first is just a cozy warmth
that fills your lungs with happy gas
and all you can do is laugh.
But then slowly the flames take charge,
inside your lips around your arms
between your legs
and all becomes so stalled and hot .
And the sensation lasts until the pain starts
the skin is broken, the flesh dissolves,
the bones become gray ash .
Fourth degree burns is what I have
-I told you not to play with wicked fire ,
Says my mom.
-The restoration will take a while ,
but not to worry ,that in these cases
the bone and skin always grow back .
And I start again :
- I am the girl that plays with fire ,
my name is Phoenix and I get burned all the time .
To be captured by a moment,
searching the eyes
In a world never measured,
as it washes away ... to disappear
with soft falling tears of love
Seeking interludes of passion from fingertip caresses,
leaving sounds of burned sighs,
crying out in unison
Time becomes an ocean of waves,
pulling lover's through a realm of dreams,
into tomorrow
Trapped by silk webs of love that enslaves,
searching the eyes
Touching the heart ... lost in tenderness,
that inhales love's fragrant breath in quiet spaces,
trembling soft ...ever holy
before it abandons its rules
Kissing the mouth ... without restraint
4/23/17
Please fall in lust with me, remember years
when all you sought was time to ravish me
In secret tryst we’d meet despite our fears
For passion would not wait or let us be
Oh fall in lust with me, think of the days
When wonder filled your eyes at curve of hips
A time when whispered words spoke of the ways
That we’d make love as kisses burned our lips
Please fall in lust with me, oh let me burn
From touch of hands deranged in passion’s fire
Oh let me pant your name, oh let me yearn
For time when slave you were to your desire
Now, fall in lust with me, and only me
Forget the other one whom you adore
You pledged that love would ever constant be
a passion that would blaze forevermore
So fall in lust with me, and let me be
The mistress once again who rules supreme
For love devoid of lust is killing me
Bring back to bed the lust of youthful dream
Jade Celeste
This poem is the cry of many people in long standing relationships. That first fire and passion needs stoking to be keep blazing brightly. When the fire isn't tended to, there is danger in looking elsewhere to find what is lacking.