Long Caves Poems
Long Caves Poems. Below are the most popular long Caves by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Caves poems by poem length and keyword.
time is just a jumbled chord
that rings out
high above
then falls
below
the spirit soon is lost inside
the empty hollow as the bell of doom
rings out it`s tune
of sorrow
inside the swirling dark
it sounds out
a ghostly echo
through the tunnels and caves
down the flowing rivers
of red
a swirling wind blows
like a trapped beast
biting
growling
clawing
it`s a chill that rings
the bell of doom
calling to the dismay
that live
inside the gloom
ringing from the pit of black
sounding out it`s tune of rage
a blanket covering
these forlorn day`s
a reoccurring nightmare
haunting
it`s ghosts turn
page after
page
after page
each sentence
saying the same
the ghosts
rise up from below
and come as a torturer
from
deep inside the chamber
from
the dark hollows
of nothingness
they come to inflict pain
as histories flame burns
again
and
again
and
again
burning with the same pain
a repeat of the past
as the scream echoes
inside the void
and the bell tolls
for all
outcasts
____________________________
The monsoon when leaves stagnant water pools, it provides a fertile maternity ward for mosquito larvae to transform into winged terrorists. When this happens, it is not the number alone, but their single-minded purpose. Mosquito’s proboscis has six microscopic needles: two pierce the skin, two serrate like saws, one injects saliva to prevent blood from clotting, letting the last one suck the blood. So, in man-mosquito conflict there is no doubt who wins in an asymmetric war. One side has about 20 million years of evolution against man’s mere two.This ditty, set as extended limerick with a rhyme scheme AA/BB/CC/DD/EE/A, laments.
_______________________
In this man-mosquito’s long conflict,
It is clear, who will the trophy lift.
For man’s two million years
Bug’s ten-time more means tears,
And going by this clock
Man’s a kid on the block,
Who has bare hands as guns
To fight core competence
Of bugs, it sure occurs
To me, men are suckers,
Mankind’s not perhaps God’s chosen gift.
________________________
Happenings | 21.09.2026 | humour, men, mosquitoes, war, win, Limerick
As two limericks:
In this man-mosquito’s long conflict,
It is clear, who will the trophy lift.
For, man’s two million years
Bugs’ ten-time more means tears,
Man’s defence is when easily split.
With bare hands as his only poor guns,
Against bugs on their blood-sucking runs,
Six needles when prick skin,
No wonder, who caves in—
Men are not Creation’s chosen sons!
With remnants of mankind’s existence corroding
His lighting extinguished, his concrete eroding
The birds and the beasts have reconquered his space
Those same birds and beasts have forgotten his face
The forests, once dwindled, have burgeoned once more
Oak, elm and ash rupture old asphalt floor
Long vacant dwellings, now caves, dens and lairs
For ground dwelling mammals while bats live upstairs
The rivers all sparkle, their waters so clear
And large rusting pipes discharge nothing to fear
Waves tickle beaches, the breeze is their breath
With no evil lurking at periscope depth
Life springs abundant by land, sea and sky
Unhindered by species who weren’t meant to fly
Trees brightly clad in gold, russet and green
Alas, man cannot see how things could have been
And so all seems well but there’s still need of prayer
There’s horror to come from a long way… up there
This world, free at last, of man’s lethal know how
Could sure use a serving of man’s knowledge now
Unserviced and rusting, the launchers stand bare
No human stands ready; no missile sits there
Mankind had known that the space rock would come
And man would have nuked it… but he’s gone: Ho hum!
Softly goes the winter night
Turning beneath a star lite sky
icy wind blows upon the land
Chilling those who walk this night
Darkness bares the land of life
They run unto small caves of light
Seeking warm safety there within
Hidden from the star sky
Lonely trees stand the guard
talking softly among themselves
On the endless watch they take
The quiet is louder than any noise
It fills all space
Nowhere to hide
The sun the moon cannot be
Their lights will not fill the sky
And will not come each night to stay
Gather clouds for snow to fall
Changing land from black to white
Hiding much and showing some
All in a cold winter night
Myopic muddle
as beauty swirls
hues of heaven
yet bypasses
static statues that
pose as sentient
beings beknighted
dawn’s divine dream
seen as bland mirror
on ebbing eyewash
cathartic colour is
a universal uplift
even for low level
lustrous earth dweller
Immersed in skewed slant
I bandy icicled retort
as though taut timing
ever swayed rigid
stone age postures
elysian echo a speck
in azurite caves
to auditory aloofness
allied to blinkered
whim ‘s wanton
plight with dull
and dim twist
dispersed among
trivial terrains
alienation personified
vessel vacuous and void
rehabilitation of
the wayward faculty
a burst balloon blip
outsider ostracised
from gilded gardens
and sumptuous bloom
of ripe recrudescence
still limp laggard
on hackneyed cue
might yet stumble on
the fig of wakening
We need to remember our heritage and the reason we celebrate the 4th of July.
Have you ever wondered what happened to the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence? Their story. . .
Five signers were captured by the British as traitors, and tortured before they died.
Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned.
Two lost their sons serving in the Revolutionary Army; another had two sons captured.
Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or hardships of the Revolutionary War.
They signed and they pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor.
What kind of men were they?
Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists.
Eleven were merchants.
Nine were farmers and large plantation owners; men of means, well educated.
But they signed the Declaration of Independence knowing full well that the penalty would be death if they were captured.
Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the British Navy. He sold his home and properties to pay his debts, and died in rags.
Thomas McKeam was so hounded by the British that he was forced to move his family almost constantly. He served in the Congress without pay, and his family was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him, and poverty was his reward.
Vandals or soldiers looted the properties of Dillery, Hall, Clymer, Walton , Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton.
At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson, Jr., noted that the British General Cornwallis had taken over the Nelson home for his headquarters. He quietly urged General
George Washington to open fire. The home was destroyed, and Nelson died bankrupt.
Francis Lewis had his home and properties destroyed.
The enemy jailed his wife, and she died within a few months.
John Hart was driven from his wife's bedside as she was dying.
Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and his gristmill were laid to waste. For more than a year he lived in forests and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his children vanished.
So, take a few minutes while enjoying your 4th of July holiday and silently thank these patriots. It's not much to ask for the price they paid.
Remember: freedom is never free!
BIG IDEAS
UNG!!!! Fire was the big idea
Flaming Woolly Mammoth on a hot stick
OHH!! The wheel was the big idea
Woolly Mammoth are heavy
Caves were the big idea
Condos of cohabitation.
Cave Drawings were the big idea
Decorative stories
Road Trips were the big idea
Keep moving with the food
Evolution was the big idea
Creatively adapt to change
Music was the big idea
Drums and whistles and chants
Dance was the big idea
Moving in the fire’s glow
Words were the big idea
The poetry of survival
Texting was the big idea
Messages scratched on a wall
Moving out was the big idea
UNG!!! Take fire with you
John G. Lawless
5/17/2015
SUBMITTED TO – WHAT’S THE BIG IDEA – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Lyric Man
Is friendship like a funeral
Where cold frenzies are played out
Among friends of the darling years?
Neighbours protect themselves
In solid caves of ancient discord
Where offsprings are bred & armed
With deadly weapons of hatred!
Men linger here sad & tired
As in a land of the living-dead –
The drummers are like the dancers:
A shadow of their ancestors!
War-eyed fake & drudged intellectuals
Litter our paths of native mind
Bearing giant luggage of rumours
More fearful than real battles
Of castled Chauceric knights!
O in those far-away tenements
And squalors which house students
Many an empty ruse germinate
In a soil rich in abuses!
Two inmates fled from the night
To those hut-like structures
Where secret readings are enacted –
Then two lads for long cursed!
Men & women & kids linger here
In a small society born for love
Sensibility & contemplation & inquiry
Forsaken in cold rumours of wars
While sanity & love dwell in the grave!
Does hatred breed love & health & life?
The Oxford days are gone?
Form:
Oceans Deep With Love
A sharks love poem, like a deep dive into the ocean, my love for you is like the ocean floor, it's dark and full of mysteries, but beware, just like the ocean my love can be dangerous, are you ready to take the plunge? Then be ready to dive right in for a love that is unpredictable and wild as the ocean waves, hold onto my fines, once we swim in these waters there's no going back, we will make waves with power of or love, my fines will scare any enemy that tries to ripe you from me, your grasp it so strong holding onto my fine, your eyes look scared we enter in darkest of waters and caves of life? Unshore of what's at the opening on other side? The darkness swallows us your scared with fear but now I am there to protect you, we begin to see strange lights, lights from strange creature's and fish? But it brings hope that darkness will not fully take us, the light is always in front of us? I swim harder through the end of the cave, the coral reefs as they shred my skin off my side's to get to the light we see in front? Your eyes light up wondering if love is truly this beautiful in the end, and to feel the warmth of the water flowing through my large gills making you feel protected being so close to me, life couldn't be more beautiful of the site ahead of us, we crash through the end of the cave, back into open water's, a calm came into your heart, a relief of its over, you let go and drift in front of me looking into my dark black eyes, seeing the scares from the adventure that lead us here to the end, love conquering all we made it!! (Oceans Deep With Love)
The energy of a dying star,
Is truly who you are,
Part of a collection of entities,
Sentient amenities,
Pleasing the host.
Guided by a Holy Ghost,
Most go unnoticed,
Amidst this vast existence,
Innocence taken by insolence,
Violence filling the airwaves,
Invisible slaves making waves,
As the system caves.
Paving the way once again,
For our star to shine on in,
As the pieces awaken,
To the world that was taken,
Leaving the leaders shaken,
The regimes were overtaken
Breaking down the barriers,
We are the carriers of light,
The star burning bright,
Enlightening everyone around,
Turning frowns upside down,
Drowning out the sorrow,
There's no tomorrow to fear,
Just right here,
Right now,
Power lies in your hands,
To heal our broken lands.