Long Bury Poems
Long Bury Poems. Below are the most popular long Bury by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bury poems by poem length and keyword.
Nothing is complicated
It's only exaggerated!
Regardless of what it may be,
Whether bound or free,
Large or small
Short or tall!
Save the Daisies, my love!
If you must question love,
It's not sent from heaven above!
So, set it free, let it fly like a feather-winged dove!
Waste no more of your precious time
Plenty are the goals to achieve in your prime!
It's either you want me or you don't!
Either yu will or you won't!
It's either you can or you can't!
Either retain silence or set-off a rant!
You see? It's NOT complicated at all
So, what you are sweating is awfully small!
We often make mountains out of hills
When we withhold truth - for lies do kill!
So, be true to me - be true to you
You owe it to yourself to be true
'Lest you bury yourself under piles and piles
Of unlimited excuses often wrapped in lies!
Nothing is complicated
But, many things are embellished
And exaggerated!
Rid yourself of arrogant elegance
Keep simple with truth's galant eloquence
Never adorn a lie nor harbor an excuse
If it's heartaches and hertbreaks you seek to reduce!
It's not complicated
Things are just exaggerated
When we, ourselves, complicate it
A trade for lies mixed with pity
When truth is proclaimed with a wink of the witty...
When he tells you he doesn't want you,
Instantly get it that he wants someone else,
Better than he ever wanted you! And so,
Pack your bags, your feelings and emotions,
And run!
Run as fast as an ostrich,to as far as the ends of the world;
Pray,never to set eyes on him,
To be reminded of the pain he once caused,
How,your love was taken for granted-
Your sincerity for neediness!
Temptations come in life, for we are bound to face them,
Remember,we are daughters of Eve, conceived and borne in sin;
As a lion fights to defend it's territory,
Brawl with all you have; strength and weaknesses,
Do you even know that beneath your weakness is magical power?
Fight tooth and nail,to bury anything you ever called love,
For all he ever deserved wasn't your love,
But rather,
Rejection and torture, vengeance and sorrow;
Was he ever worth your innocent smile?
A predator he was! His prey, you were!
A pery,whose remains he didn't care about enough to respect,
But dumped them to the face of the earth,to rot,
If lucky, to be finished up by vultures!
Dear sister,
He means each and every letter in the statement;
"I don't want you anymore! I don't love you!"
Why, would you even care about his wellbeing,
His safety or joy or peace?
Do such people deserve it?
Anyway, I know how you feel,
I once was like you,but,let go lest you become the devil's servant forever!
Collect the leaves, collect the leaves
Throw them into a pile
The end is beautiful
The end is golden
Spin in a circle and watch the forest dance
Turning into a rainbow of brown and gold
Remember how it felt to be in her arms
Remember how it felt to be alive
Pick up the leaves in the pile
Throw them in the air
A parade of gold and brown leaves
They're falling with your tears
When everything you feared came to be
This insignificant moment
Could be the moment to set you free
The moment to unlock your heart
A heart once torn apart
Divorce your emotions
And your devotion to sorrow
Another Autumn has come and gone
Another Winter has come again
To wash away all of the pain
Remember that you were at your worst
You were at your worst
But tomorrow could be your best
Dressed in a fancy little suit
In that beautiful suit she bought you
The one you hated and wanted to return
But now you wear that suit
Because you're going to your graduation
A grandstand of euphoric ovation
But that day will be tomorrow
Today you wallow in the sorrow
And bury yourself in gold and brown leaves
The end is beautiful
The end is golden
Oh how I love thee with your white and dark meat
Thou art the very best
But because of you, I can’t see my feet
My navel is two feet from my chest
To diet and lose so I don’t wobble no more
I would be very willing
It would be impossible now, because somehow
I finished four bowls of filling
My wife pointed at me and said look at him
He sits at the table, like a dog he begs
I stare at you and your magnificent breast
Can hardly wait to get my hands on your legs
Enough already, I’m on my knees
Give me some stuffing and some black eyed peas
Sweet potatoes, corn and a salad I’ll toss
And bury your butt with cranberry sauce
Oh turkey, my turkey, you’re the one who rocks
Now I’ve gotten so fat, I can’t put on my socks
My love for you was fleeting
And we are finished I fear
But I’ll fall in love with another turkey
Same time next year.
when the rich wage war, it is the poor who die
overflowing their bank accounts as they lie
hiding behind niceties as they make us slaves
wars made to control us, which they create and crave
when will we learn that segregation is to take?
not just our lives, homes and human rights are at stake
but our very souls as they bury the light within
greedy addiction their only means to a dead end
creating the armageddon to prove true false prophets
we bought into their “good book” as right and philosophic
it is easier to place our sins under another’s blame
accept forgiveness, as we turn inconceivably insane
society claiming no responsibility for their actions
defying the laws of decency in self-righteous reactions.
absolution is not possible in our religious fervor
we despise ourselves internally as sheep and follower.
jesus might forgive our sins, and that a slim chance.
will those we torture and persecute join this happy dance?
nothing will become nothing and so it shall return to be
that we are insignificant as human species.
when the rich wage war, it is the poor who die
without the poor the rich cannot feed their lie.
no one is left to support their arrogant farce
destroying planet earth, corruption on the march
slavery, pride, taking of life (any life), lying and cheating,
coveting the jones’ wife or boat or house, abusive wife beating
in the name of their god that is not balanced in polarity
is the way to chaos and darkness in the laws of scarcity.
believing that your actions are not your own
belong to a horrendous force, the cyclone
thinking that you are above judgment of deeds
is foolish, arrogant, capitulates and concedes
to empty spaces in heart and mind
for darkness to dwell within and find
a breeding ground for despair and pain
chained to the physical you remain.
when the rich wage war, it is the poor who die
without the poor, the rich cannot feed their lie.
Could I take love and push it out the door
Make it to die and breathe of life no more
Could I take love and with a spear impale
To make it breathe it’s last, I would not fail
Could passion be personified I’d try
To beat and torment, then I’d make it die
Desire would be next my wrath to taste
I'd murder it for what it’s laid to waste
I would inflict the cruelest agony
For what imposters these have done to me
I’d close my ears to cries of mercy made
Until I bury them and turn the spade
For they have only gifted grief and pain
And clothed my heart in shrouds of the insane
Eileen
There's a pile of sullied threads on the floor
from muddied quarrels of our yesterdays
Remnants of life that we stripped bare
like sheets from a bed needing laundering
It's a hoard of soiled and frayed toggeries
too foul from words to be properly cleansed
I thought of trying to bury the lot of it
but shoveling the hurt left blisters on my hands
Invasive memories haunt many of my dreams
They are suffused deep within my thoughts
An inured scent of us will linger, unbleached, abused
like worn jeans as long as they remain unwashed
How long before I can ignore them lying there
gathered and rumpled in an alcove in my mind
Dark stains that only bring me pain and discontent
Too tainted to be purified by dirty human hands
Love Me Mercilessly
This ring, hot, like a brand against my skin.
Agonizing, blissful, as it permanently leaves its mark.
I covet you. I crave you. I need you.
I want your love to burn right through me.
Suffocate me. Breathe you in, fill my lungs, gasping, drowning, euphoric.
Bring me to the brink of death, with the tips of your fingers. Touch me.
Lips like cyanide; seeped through my veins, encompassed, lost in your kiss.
Your gaze pierces me like a knife.
My tortured heart beats as if its only mission is to escape its cell.
Cut down deep. Expose this frail beating heart.
I gave you my life, and you loved me mercilessly.
Take me, destroy me, envelope me, we soon become one.
I am you. You are me. We are.
Your eulogy promises to be mine:
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to honor a man.
A man who sacrificed himself in two little words, and a promise to become one with me.”
In sacrificial death, you took my life with your own two hands. Till death do us part.
Bury me, leave me where I cannot be found. I’ll never leave you.
Let my epitaph read “Here lies the man who lost himself, when he found you.”
It’s a place I feel off—
not wedded to anything.
Truculent.
I think in riddles
and answer in metaphors.
I dance on my tiptoes—
an adagio of agony.
Passion pirouettes
out of sight.
Tethered.
Bound by grief.
Temptation forgotten,
tempered.
It no longer exists.
It was a pas de deux,
now it’s just a deuce—
a petulant penitent,
an unwanted pardon.
The dancer stirs.
The pulse quickens
to a tango.
Recalcitrant and longing.
Unable to follow the white line
unless it’s condemned.
So the path ahead is delusional—
felt, not seen.
When will the blocks of life
build up
and make me feel safe?
I feel like I’m
in a correctional facility.
I am my own door.
I am my own jailor.
I realise I have the key.
I bury it
under the pile of shame
in the corner.
—A Cry from the Rubble to the Thrones of Power—
In Gaza, the sky does not fall—
It rains fire.
Children sleep beneath concrete tombs,
Mothers wail into hollow winds,
And the olive trees
Bleed.
A boy holds his sister’s severed hand
Like a prayer,
Like a memory,
Like a question God won’t answer anymore.
America—
Your silence roars like F-16s,
Your aid is not charity,
But crucifixion money.
You kneel in churches of stone and glass,
While funding the shattering of real temples—
Human hearts,
Infant bones,
The dignity of a dispossessed people
Longing for home.
Israel—
You were born from ashes,
But now you breathe fire on those whose only crime
Is remembering too much
About exile.
What happened to “Never Again”?
Is it “Never Again… unless they’re not like us”?
And you—world leaders,
Architects of treaties made of dust,
Diplomats who toast with red wine
While children cough up red foam—
You’ve made yourselves gods
By forsaking God.
Liberation theology says:
If Christ walks the streets today,
He walks barefoot in Gaza.
Not in cathedrals
Nor in congress halls.
He is cradling the dying,
Rising in the rubble,
And weeping over the weapons
Stamped: Made in the U.S.A.
This is not politics.
This is not religion.
This is not history.
This is humanity,
Starving for a voice that speaks truth
Louder than missiles.
We are not asking for favors.
We are demanding the right
To breathe,
To exist without apology,
To bury our dead
Before they are forgotten
By the world’s deliberate blindness.
So rise,
Not in hatred—
But in holy rage.
Speak,
Not with vengeance—
But with vision.
For every Gaza,
There must be a thousand Jerichos—
Where the walls of apathy
Come crashing down
At the sound of our united cry.
Let this be known:
God does not stand with empires.
God kneels with the crushed.
God is not in the drone.
God is in the silence
After the last child falls.
And that silence,
If unbroken,
Will haunt our names
For generations.
Free Palestine.
Not as a slogan—
But as a sacred obligation.