Long Caged Poems
Long Caged Poems. Below are the most popular long Caged by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Caged poems by poem length and keyword.
The Cage…
The Cage…
I am caged in a body, shackled with my pain.
One of these days, I’ll break this rusty old chain.
I will be so happy, flying in a breeze,
In the realm of light, dancing as its rain.
In the garden, I will chase the butterflies,
I will laugh, and I will play with no complain.
I will be so drunk drinking Morning Dew,
I will run with the wind, breaking my old cane.
There will be no tears, no more restless nights,
Only love will be there; not else shall remain.
Trust me, my dear, escape from your cage.
The cage, full of greed, always dies in vain.
Come with me, my friend; I know where it ends.
It is filled with our love; it’s hard to explain.
Our pain will be cured; our thirst will be quenched,
If you do not drink, you must be insane.
You will be everywhere, here and over there,
You have never again had worries or pain.
A thousand mysteries all will be child’s play,
Your knowledge will be all; all you shall obtain.
Trust “Haloo” he knows death also will pass,
The soul will be the one destined to contain.
6/23/2017 Haloo
* I named this painting " The Cage". It is acrylic on canvas.
--A sentence to die for--
The air slices sharply
through a frigid migraine
with the putrid smell of bleach.
Shivering awake
with a ghastly chill
a soundless room stretches;
without even the chattering of teeth.
Wires twine with metal in bone
scraping intensity into pain
with every shudder of a whisper.
“Hello Clarice” - I can only think
with a distant giggle
and fond memory.
The ambience
of the fluorescence
shoots through my eyes
as they barely open
and for the first time ever,
experience shrapnel.
A sterile and dedicated place I am in.
The walls run deep with
blank canvas all around.
There is only room to write.
With no tongue or hand
or eye or pen they think
I am without?!
Feeding off the oppressed faculties
of every untold blush -
the words will never stop.
My mind is already caged…
and with beautiful potential.
I do not choose to die
nor do I envy this life
but I will direct my mannerisms
toward each day’s moral compass.
A survival code for every breath left;
however long this be my home.
The art of execution
remains both of ours to deliver.
This I know in my blood as
it is written on the walls-
"Well, Clarice -
have the lambs stopped screaming?"
--4/13/2017--
Unshackle my verse contest
"What if poetry was illegal?"
Holding something in your heart
That will never perish
Something we'll always cherish
Never fall apart
We got satisfaction in our hearts
The things outside this world
So special
More than that of a sparkling pearl
One day we'll wake up
Realize the arms we take up
Be sincere
Apologize and make up
Not part of my protégée
But worked into this strategy
How you doing where you been
Haven’t seen you since I was like ten
The way I feel will never wear off
Print tattoos that'll never tear off
Even though I didn't know my brother
I wish it could've been another
Now this little world took apart of me
Some where down the line
Someone will stretch this art for me
Though we mislead trust
The futures still in front of us
And if love could teach
then for love we reach
But we'll never fall apart
Got satisfaction in our hearts
It's a world at rage
They tell us
"Keep harsh feeling caged, act our age"
Didn’t' want to be a burden
So I closed the curtains
Closed my eyes
And hoped it would close the hurting
Situation never let the tears settle
Don't let it reign drops of metal
Even if I never grow to be a better man
I’ll leave you with a leaf
A treasure within a wish to consider
Please understand
If I knew how every situation would end
Stress wouldn’t be considered
My objective and demand
Between you and me it’s a given hand
And if tomorrow
Doesn’t grace us with its presence
Then we’ll remind failure
Of the beauty and essence
Of a once populated land
As my conscience and well being
Occupied me in my final stand
Deliver me to peace
With winds blown from the east
Now that I’m grown
I guess I looked to the troubles to cease
Picture that
A day in the eyes of nothing to say the least
Though this little world took apart of me
Some where down the line
Someone will stretch this art for me
Though we mislead trust
The futures still in front of us
And if love could teach
Then for love we reach
But we'll never fall apart
Got satisfaction in our hearts
Caught and caged between my love and my lust
for you, dear Teacher, feelings of passion
swell to great heights of reckless abandon
that I feel I will love you 'til I'm dust.
If wanting you is to sin then I must!
How can this be so wrong yet feel so right?
O God, have mercy! Please forgive my plight
as my heart burns for a love that's not just.
Still, dear Teacher, hear my beating young heart
and love me as you ought! Set me on fire
as portraits do—like Raphael's best art!
Kiss me like no other! Stoke my desire!
Thrill me down there—in the nethermost part!
Keep loving me lest I die and expire!!
In my thoughts poetic words are swirling, I found writing at an early age,
Tumbling and whirling, like caged birds; Depth of spirit and creativity are mine;
Trapped and reckless to be set free, Memories are free flowing in my words,
I must find paper and pen and release; Deep inspired poetry releases the past;
The fluttering, my muse is screaming, I drift and float, soul searching my inner life,
In my head, or is that me? Meaningful words pour out the sorrow.
I start to write and sad poems come, I let go of the past, I let the pain drift,
Creeping, word bleeding on paper; I lay each sorrowful and weeping word bare;
Oh do all poets struggle or just me? Bleeding upon a white page of paper,
And as I pen my verse, I weep. My poems are full of tears and memories.
The writing done, I sigh a tear, I have laid open this heart for all to see,
My muse has set me free; The story of my life can be found easily;
Memories are all I have, Photographs that float in my dreamy thoughts,
And the rain is falling down. The tomb is wet, so dark, so cold.
The pages of my life fluttering, Words deep engraved for all eternity,
Past the ornate gate; The wind takes my long hair and trees tremble;
Voices and murmurs calling me, Past the ornate gate and winding road,
I kiss dead lips and caress cold hands. I so often stand in this place of sorrow.
________________________________
September 26, 2015
Poetry/Free Verse/Cracked and Fragmented Words
Copyright Protected, ID 15- 712-305-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Inspired by the poem Crack like fissures written by Richard Lamoureux
He walked where no one dared to tread,
Through fields of fire and cities dead.
No crown, no map, no hand to hold—
Just ink for blood, and truth for gold.
They watched him pass with judging eyes,
A ghost, a myth beneath their skies.
But he, with silence as his guide,
Wrote thunder where the stars would hide.
He wore no mask to please the crowd,
His voice was never trained to bow.
He etched his pain in verse and stone,
And found his peace in being alone.
His words were winds that cracked the gate,
Of kings who feared the hands of fate.
He spoke of love not sold or caged,
Of time, and gods, and wounds unnamed.
Each night he lit a candle bright,
And whispered poems into the night.
Not for applause or fleeting fame,
But to remind the void of name.
For though he walked a lonesome mile,
His truth could stretch a thousand while.
And in his path, the seeds were sown—
By The Poet Who Walked Alone.
my soul chained with fears
caged in a dark place
cries with sorrowful tears
down my pale, hollow face
the notes of my song die
before even being born
my broken wings cannot fly
deep in my heart, I can feel
this sharp, constant thorn
I dream of a new land
the land of the blue skies
-the land of the free-
across this desert,
across this dry sand
across this stormy sea
will I dare to act on my dreams?
will I dare to rise and break my chains?
will I dare to free all the inside screams?
will I dare to reveal all my pains?
my soul without any fears
flies free in a colorful place
cries with new happy tears
down my bright, beautiful face
a new song is born in an instant
I carry it on my new silver wings
there’s no time and no distance
I’m born in the eternal existence
my heart forever sings
I dream of a new land
the land of the blue skies
-the land of the free-
across this desert,
across this dry sand
across this stormy sea
“Autumn leaves don’t fall; they fly. They take their time and wander on this, their only chance to soar.” Owens, Delia. Where the Crawdads Sing, Chapter 17: “Crossing the Threshold” (p. 124).
Sheltered within my mother’s caring limbs
Through spring, summer, and autumn
I felt secure all through the changing seasons
Happy I was with my siblings
Playing, giggling, and whispering
But when I watch birds flying in the air
And the blue of the sky peeking through clouds
Instinctively I long to fly aloft
Into the enormity of a realm with no boundaries
I don’t know why I feel sometimes
Trapped in a jungle, so stuck and stranded
Pinned down in an awful fixation
Then I hunger to be a bird, spread my wings,
And ride upon the wind to join in an odyssey
Once when I announced my desire to my mother,
She said, “you are now mature enough
To free yourself from my sheltering clasp, so, I let you go”
Thus, from my caged existence, here I go
Slipping away from the cords that bind
Swaying and dancing on silvered wings
Jan.4.2023
~ Placed Second~
Feel Free Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Sara Kendrick
*** I would like to give a shout out to the lovely Scarlett Williams who inspired this
thought... These feelings have been bottled deep inside me for many years and needed to be
released.... Thank you my dear...***
She is devout catholic with a strict religious family...
VERY strict...
I met her in college..
Her father was the dean of students....
Could not stand me...
She was pure when we met, it took three months...
I fell deep in love well before sex....
Her mother loved me, her sister loved me even her Chihuahua loved me..
Her father thought I was a dog, which I was.. I am not going to lie....
She changed that about me, caged that animal...
I fell deep in love....
Well,
after two years together her father one weekend decided on a motorcycle trip...
His front tire exploded at 70 MPH and he was thrown 150 yards down the freeway...
Nearly died and he lost 45% of his memory...
She was devastated,
I became a stranger.....
I have been through many since and have not found a woman who can
capture my intrigue....
Make me fall once again...
I yearn for that!!!
I meet girls
I NEED a woman
I hold no hatred for her...
She will always hold a special place in my heart...
She changed my life,
brought me into a new world..
I have many fond memories..
Like a picnic in the Oquirhh mountains in S.L.C. next to a spring...
We ate, talked and made love...
It was beautiful...
We had something special...
That was the past and will forever be...
A memory.....
She WAS the love of my life...
I look forward to creating new memories with.............
Jared Pickett
5/15/2010
Asavvy1
Who Am I To You?
Am I just a stranger?
An online lover or a nobody
That once who passes by
In a lifetime of your stream ?
Maybe a poet?
A woman only good in sweet words.
Easily fooled by his own feelings,
And by the world that often says
I am just another plaything?
A con artist? A pervert? A toy? Or
Perhaps, one of your movie character
That portrays your imagination
In a stage play of fantasy and dreams?
I am not perfect.
This is reality.
I am not a role model.
I have lapses and flaws.
I am not the woman of your past.
I can't look like her or be like that.
I am not whole, I am also broken
And still have issues of my own .
But the truth is, all of us
Needs to be loved and trying to love
In one way or another, our denials
That we keep telling ourselves
Will be defined by time and memories,
If we're truly happy of being alone.
If not, then tell me
Who am I to you?
Please tell me what we have
Is true, before I go...
©® Ven-lyn A Valdez
Who You Are To Me?
I find myself in thy manger
You are a modern Peabody
Whose pen aids to dye
My board with awesome dream
You are more than a poet!
The one out of all beautiful birds
That freely flies around the earth's ceiling
Unlike the caged birds with less ways
Timely been abating
The twist, the challenge, the fruit outpour
Enough pieces crushing like a constrictor
Holding unto a great aspiration
Flowing through grace so agleam
I am not only for prospect
This may be false in its seeming triviality
I am not a mollycoddle
Yet have respect for tight clause
You become of me, an enthusiast
With keen interest not eyeing to scat
Even when all of it is token
Bountiful harvest are from vial seeds, sown
Nevertheless, in my fuss
I will always be the real dove
And not act up for trials
Abandoned on shelves
The much ado about plight in diaries
Crying for reading to be well known
Life is short, let it be
Less to the review
More to life shouldn't really be halve
Totality is key to overlook every foe
You are who you are
Keep doing what you know best
Someday, you will be the shining star
Silent helpers locate what resisters detest
Shine on.........
©® Wems Henry Temmy