Long Cataclysms Poems
Long Cataclysms Poems. Below are the most popular long Cataclysms by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cataclysms poems by poem length and keyword.
There are meanderings who itch and creep
To fill my night with dread.
There are cataclysms where I cringe and cower
That are better left unsaid
And there's an apparition to slake my very soul
Standing menacingly aside my bed.
A miasmal shadow whose form and substance
Seems porous with a brooding discontent.
A vaporous spook from a now empty hoary grave
Crying out some death-bed held lament.
I tremble at this ghastly wretched haunting unsure
How to appease this ghoulish malcontent.
Is it an harbinger of some impending doom
That awaits me in the night?
Or a bleak warning of a tenebrous dark abyss
In dire need of an earthborn sacrifice?
Or a horrific memory of a forgotten transgression
I have conveniently put away from sight?
Its eyes lock in a gaze of sinister desperation
As I search for some meaning to aspire.
But what I see leaves me morose and sullen
As the reflection broods a hellish brimstone fire.
And I turn away with a feeling of minacious fear
Not knowing the spirit's saturnine desires.
This haggard phantom stretches its bony claw
And wails like a banshee twice possessed.
Pointing an accusing finger in my direction
With some long held grievance to address.
It screams in hideous tones, "Beware! Beware!"
Which it most fervently expressed.
"Beware! Beware!" It howls in repressed anger
As I rest my weary eyes.
And through the night it wallows in acute agony...
Lashing out a mournful cry.
But I eventually grow somewhat accustomed
And it becomes a type of doomsday lullaby.
The days and weeks are now three long years
And it continues its nightly shrieking of regret.
But no one said creatures from the spirit-world
Would be straightforward or direct.
I am at an impasse with this ghostly apparition
And remain confused and quite perplexed.
I am oblivious to whatever spectral information
This bit of ectoplasm seems to know.
And the creature appears in no discernible hurry,
But to be honest... I would miss its nightly show.
So until we come to a far better understanding...
I have a place to hang my clothes.
The End
*Follow my cartoon on Webtoon Bob's your Uncle.
Sunday, June twentieth
thousand nineteen at eleven fifty
at 11:31 Post Meridian
Eastern Standard Time
will find Earth's North Pole tilted
closest toward sun. This demarcates
most daylight hours of the year for
people living the northern hemisphere.
Just shy of high noon sun (less than
twelve hours from drafting these lines)
nearest star in solar system reaches
highest point in the sky.
Hence hasty intent to beat buzzer sound
dashing off riding figurative one seahorse
open sleigh madly awk cross cyber sea,
aye rudder sally forth (slogging thru
virtual flotsam and jetsam) with poetic
obeisance paid to average size ball of
Earth, wind and fire, my out of this
world quasi stellar benediction, since
Earthlings traveled thru space/time
continuum circa Stonehenge, or perhaps
bajillion years ago, when predecessors
of present day primates (coon sitter terribly
less a bomb bin hubble), versus twenty first
century *****sapiens predilection for total
mortal kombat graphically spiraling downward
zeroing (kamikaze like), analogy drawn,
viz subjective mathematical roulette curves,
albeit hypotrochoids and epitrochoids staining
countless grains of sand, count them yourself,
yielding result (somewhere very loosely
approximating 7.5 x 1018, or seven quintillion,
five hundred quadrillion grains.
Such minutiae less significant within the realm
of present day *****sapiens, whose lives less
linkedin with phenomena affecting life on this
oblate spheroid, (which could come to a crashing
halt predicated on burgeoning human population
jeopardizing sustainable planet presuming
industrial paradigm prevails, thence man/
woman kind will unwittingly trumpet, and
or sound claxon (ex post facto), while
warming temperatures melt glaciers,
asper huge popsicles drowning
multitudinous habitats courtesy of
violent meteorologic cataclysms, where
Noah ark will be big enough to save majority
of creatures, and (wherein no art of the deal)
savvy enough to wall off sky high tidal
Katrina and the waves, then nature will (make
a killing) relishing tidying Atlas sized tureen
Humanity
The pagan pilgrimage, sun-worshippers frequently make
Latter-day phenomenon, take off on a Bronze Age break
Constellations change position, solstices realign
Tropic of Capricorn peaks, Cancer starts its slow decline
Astrologers reassure us, the end is not bespoke
Astronomers can’t sleep, has a supernova awoke?
Healthy cells deconstruct inexorably from their core
Runaway chain reactions, laying waste forever more
Be that as it must, cosmic cataclysms generate thrust
Comets are slightly nudged, on a collision course with us?
Ancients believed them omens, wraiths of impending slaughter
Those billion ton tailed curveballs, catalysed Earth with water
Modern man searches for answers, drowning in misnomers
Melding PhD honours, with chatbot E-diplomas
Teleporting entangled particles, throws back a hack
Time travelling marvel, rewinds the real Bronze Age back?
Absurdness seems lame, yet concomitantly germane
Hawking conserved energy, by merely using his brain
Newton had a bachelors, kept him celibate stable
He’d balls of steel for sure, alas no bearings on that cradle?
Information cannot be destroyed, only zeitgeists can
Synthesised is truth, in the malleable hands of man
Life’s more delicate, gravitas hidden behind a smile
Like tales that flightless birds, buried heads in denial
Ostriches evolved kick-ass legs, and win the biped race
They dig shallow pits in sand, not complex black holes in space
One squawked this revelation before zooming off to die:
“Humankind’s the sole species, with good reason to ask why”?
Rejuvenating Proof
Counteroffensive cataclysms clamouring for defeat
Apprehensive magnetism that makes you feel complete
Comprehensive pragmatism that can sometimes drain and deplete
Recompensive vandalism that leaves you shocked in disbelief
Magnitudes of profound truths that create wisdom for the wise
Terpitudes that are uncouth and crawl around in unethical disguise
Servitudes that hold no proof but are doomed to eventual demise
Platitudes that contain the youth and distort the facts in front of their eyes
Laying on my back I look up toward the blistering sun
Praying for you to take it back as I feel inclined to run
Saying we’re living in times of lack would be understating the sum
Weighing up what has been in fact a loss of delight, joy and fun
Weaponisation of justice that could have gone for more
Legalisation of an armistice as the world prepares for war
Devitalisation of the harvest while we cannot feed the poor
Dehumanisation of the inquest as we ask what all of this is for?
Calcification of an idolisation that was devoid of substance and truth
Calibrations of animations that are manipulating the youth
Altercations of communications that are needed to prove the proof
Imitations of aggravations that require a detective and a sleuth
Rejuvenating the landscape from the environmental degradation
Captivating the escape route as they apply for abdication
Hallucinating the magnetic tape that restricts the aggravation
Ruminating on the holy saint that depicts the consecration
Copyright Elizabeth Moroz
Come Out With Me
Come out with me in the shadowtime,
Where we'll dance together in rhythms slow,
Sensuality crawling slow, delightful across our flesh
Feeding on one another
On the rich fare of warm dreams
Dredged up from the dark
Consuming ourselves in strong caresses
Touches afire with tenderness.
Make love with me
While the splintered light of the stars
Drifts down to Earth untroubled
By its crossing of the infinite black void
Make love with me
While the bright cold light
Falling off the ragged face of the moon
Illumines our side of the world,
Calling forth the beings of the night
To attend to their silent affairs.
Not without some shade of former glory
Fell the angels who stood with Lucifer,
As the brightest stars, giving up their existences
In flaming cataclysms, vast and soundless,
So did they pass Below,
From Light Eternal to Darkness Supreme.
Even so it stands with mortal men,
Creatures at once Divine and Diabolic
Strange accidents of Fate,
Beauteous monstrosities,
Mysteries to ourselves.
Glories ring even in the midst of our disgraces,
Dishonors too, within our victories.
We are the terror of Creation,
We save or destroy
With power undirected
Minds undisciplined.
So come out into the shadowtime with me,
To mingle formless passions
Filling in the hungry spaces in our hearts;
Reveling in our young humanity
Devouring our desires, mating
Bodies and minds
Sewing together the shuddering fabric of dreams,
That fragile, tenuous light crawling close,
So close to ground at the burning edge of the day.
Chaos and order;
I reside where the strings do not dare wrap around me. I am the thing that shelters comfortably under your carpet, whilst I wink at the fairy living underneath your pillow.
I am the atrocity that delves into its own existence and allows for question. Consume thy enemy, prolapse the expansion of the hereditary downfall of genetics whilst I, watch.
Growing ever more spiteful with every being I see collapse before me. I am the twine in your spine. I am the sheets you do not wash. I am the blood that spills graciously amongst generations-over nothing more than who’s feet get to fall first, on that land.
I am the thing that lies in the shadows. I am the slumber of a million cataclysms that are yet to awaken. I am the tragedy of love and betrayal.
I am the rose that dies with a million thorns wrapped around so, cutting deeper with every question you have about love being unanswered. Every cry of a friend dying on the battlefield.
I am the memory you tremble before in the murder of the night. I am the witch you smite when you cannot accept the malevolent around you. I am the creature you call upon with every legend you make of children who lurk into the woods.
I am the wolf that knows not, of what flock should be spared and which shall be consumed. I am the kindle in the flames, the spindle of a woman’s meddle to find the perfect fabric.
I am the splinter in the timber. That incessant cry out for pain. I am the relinquished magnitude you try to display before your innocent mind.
I am Chaos, I am Order. I am You.
approximating 7.5 x 1018, or seven quintillion,
five hundred quadrillion grains. This estimation
courtesy of Gwendolyn Powell, High School
from Presentation of Mary Academy (2018
graduating class) responding to an inquiry posted
on website https://www.quora.com/How-many-
grains-of-sand-are-there-on-Earth-and-how-many-
stars-are-there-in-the-universe Answered
April 15, 2018.
Such minutiae less significant within the realm
of present day *****sapiens, whose lives less
linkedin with phenomena affecting life on this
oblate spheroid, (which could come to a crashing
halt predicated on burgeoning human population
jeopardizing sustainable planet presuming
industrial paradigm prevails, thence man/
woman kind will unwittingly trumpet, and
or sound claxon (ex post facto), while
warming temperatures melt glaciers,
asper huge popsicles drowning
multitudinous habitats courtesy of
violent meteorologic cataclysms, where
Noah ark will be big enough to save majority
of creatures, and (wherein no art of the deal)
savvy enough to wall off sky high tidal
Katrina and the waves, then nature will (make
a killing) relishing tidying Atlas sized tureen
if necessary applying pledged finishing touches
repurposing third rock for another species slated
to inherit pseudo tabula rasa after Campbells,
and broth hers detox polluted primordial soup
i.e. once cleansed of poisons, thus...I condense
my Green New Deal spiel!
Come out with me in the shadowtime,
Dance together in slow rhythms
Sensuality crawling over our flesh
As we feed one another
On the rich fare of warm dreams
Dredged up from the dark
To consume ourselves in strong caresses,
Our touch afire with tenderness.
Become one with me
While the stars' splintered light
Drifts down to earth untroubled
By its crossing of that black and limitless void
Be one with me
While the bright cold light
Falls off the ragged face of the moon
Down to this side of the world
Calling out the beings of the night
To attend to their quiet affairs.
Not without some shade of former glories
Fell those who stood with Lucifer;
As the brightest stars give up their light
In cataclysms vast and silent,
So passed they below,
From light eternal to darkness supreme.
Sometimes it stands alike with mortal men,
Creatures at once divine and diabolic,
We accidents of Fate,
Beauteous monstrosities,
Mysteries to ourselves.
Glories hide within our disgraces,
As do dishonors in our victories.
We are Creation's Terror
We save or destroy
With directionless power and minds undisciplined.
So come out with me into the shadowtime
To mingle formless passions
To fill the hungry spaces of our hearts,
Raveling in our humanity
As we devour desire
Mating body to mind
Sewing together the shuddering fabric of dreams
Beneath the fragile, tenuous light crawling close
To the wet ground at the burning edge of the day.
The world in our hands would impair devils
An unthinking thought more blissful
Than a wish fulfilling shooting star
Our missions would be charted out
To go on our victory dance one step at a time
For peacefully unifying the global eye
The lines in the hand of child would be uncorroded
With the scavenging paedophiles detonated
And their gardens be filled with natural joys and play
Food for the starving would be an essentia
Hunger and water a distant call before going to bed
Appetising the poor rather than greasing over fed palettes
We would delve deep into the human vein
Gushing with a universal religion of tolerance
That binds all colours rather than undermining faiths
Gigantic deeds would keep gory bloodsheds at bay
And young valiants would keep hearts of their fair
In strongholds for inopportune cataclysms
Global warming would be of a season gone by
Aerial reforestations and seed bombs for divergent climes
Would be the neatest stuff rather than bloody nukes
A day will come when life begins once again
When dragons burn out the archetype evils and
Dying values will sprout worldwide deliverance once again
April 9, 2016
Dan Kearley
"to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature" William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 1601
towering redwoods
forest dwellers born before Christ’s time on Earth
spreading arms to lofty heights
dwellings provided in hollow, cave-like trunks
wrap your spirit in the redwood cocoon
feel the cool, dark air
refreshing body and spirit
refuge from summer’s heat
speak to me, redwood tree,
tell me of times past
when Native Americans cherished the land
and Jesus preached in Galilee
out of body, one with the redwood
journeying through history
living in a time tunnel
where past meets present
trees that know what man has forgotten
ancient tribes with sacred values
surviving earth-changing cataclysms
surrounding us with secrets to share
if we dare
dwell within
this broad, mystical expanse
redwoods’ memories
by Carolyn Devonshire
for Constance’s “The Tree” Contest
April 21, 2011