Long Ceiling Poems
Long Ceiling Poems. Below are the most popular long Ceiling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ceiling poems by poem length and keyword.
Smoke filled the little river lounge
The ceiling fans twirling to jazzy notes of the band
Music weaved its way amongst the crowd
Whiskey warmed my soul
As my I laid my eyes on what I surely would lay
A fine bird she seemed all dressed in black
My eyes had already stripped this one naked and bare
I smiled her way, her sultry gaze back said, let’s fly away
Sherlock was sitting next to me, pipe in hand
He looked me in the eye, and said never dance with a Raven young man
Your love will be clawed and a bloody mess in no time
In hindsight, this Sherlock was some detective
He sure had a good read of the situation that night
I being full of bravado and whiskey took me chances
Her perfume seduced my loins
I fell into her charms, this lady in black
Well I must confess I took her back
To my boudoir of desire
I should have headed Sherlock’s dire warnings
For indeed I had bedded the Raven, no doubt at all
Raving mad she was
Nostrils flared and claws ready to pounce
On my oh so romantic heart
I now have only one eye
In which to read the tales of Inspector Holmes
I have no ladies in waiting any more
No more raving mad love affairs
As I stare out my window
At the old black crow
You were so handsome
that the low ceiling of the sky
it rose only to lighten
the world for you...
The cows mooed sweet chants
to show off your friends...t
The birds in the trees
performed the most beautiful chirps
in your honor...
The street dogs barked
in unison happiness
when they saw saw you
and swayed
the tails with
refined technique...
All because you were wonderful...
I also included myself that all
I offered it to you...
perform in my mind
extraordinary feats
in worship to you...
All because I thought that
you were mine... but you weren't... !
Today far away where are you?
castled, I know that still
your beauty makes that
everything be as before...
But not for me... because I know
that you are not mine!
The Glass Ceiling
“Woe there sister, where do you think you're going?
Turn around, go back, stop, cease, desist!
Nothing for you above my see-through barrier.
Yes, yes, I know you can see them up there.
They are welcome up above.
Why?
Well, because they have an outie and not an innie.
They have their ice cream with nuts and you don't.
They are the plug, not the outlet.
Only snakes and snails and puppydog tails.
Keep out all of the sugar and spice and everything nice.
Blue is better than pink,
Mars vs. Venus…. Bla,bla,bla.
Oh-ho! That's rich!
Don't make me laugh, YOU BONE THIEF! YOU RIB STEALER!
We ALL know you can do the exact same work, as good or better than them.
What's your point?
And don't make it too sharp, huh?…we wouldn't want to crack the glass.
What you need is a good dose of Saint Paul, girlie.
Saul or Paul, sure had some gaul!
Ha! Oh man, I crack myself up!
We'll, not literally because…well.
Now, Sing it with me!
…”anything you can do, I can do better! I can do anything better than you!”
No. wait! nevermind! Forget I said that…
Hey, hey!? what are you doing?!
No! Girls aren't allowed here!
…Stop that singing!
Soprano is my Kryptonite!”
…Walking on, walking on, broken glass…
”
When I rolled over with you,
I gazed at blankets
hung over dirty windows,
The ceiling,
with designs from
JC Penney Co.
And then,
there you are.
Smiling,
touching,
knowing that with you.
We can make this place
the Hilton.
,
And when my body tires of me
I lie beneath a chestnut tree,
rolling among the broken burrs
where solid sleep rarely occurs
Waking up is the toughest part
when I've never slept to start.
I fear no place except the bed;
where pillows weigh upon my head
Memory foam gives no assistance;
insomnia thrives on resistance
It waits til eyes are almost closed,
never unconscious, then reloads
'Neath the tree is more appealing
than tracing welts upon my ceiling;
each one reflects a calloused lie,
the burrs tattooed on my naked eye
drilling dread into tomorrow night,
a future where there's no respite
This bed has worn me to the bone,
or have I worn its frame alone?
No dreams arrive; the lucid stays,
a consciousness that only strays
far from the tree l'm primed to be-
or not to be, ‘mid autumn debris.
# # #
I’m tired of the chestnut tree’s shade ~
being gentler than the bed I’ve made
Sleep is a deception, a ghost wearing the garment of rest,
a bloody truth hidden beneath our eyelids, an escape from the labyrinth of the mind,
where light dances in the darkness, a forbidden beacon sought by dying souls,
and our outstretched hands tremble, trying to grasp ephemeral illusions.
At the touch of that light, repulsion flickers like silent lightning,
and you are thrown back, thousands of miles into the past, to the beginning of the road,
wandering in the radio silence of your loneliness, contemplating the abyss within,
stretching again and again, caught in the dance of an endless cycle, a carousel of shadows.
You spin in spirals until you collapse into a black hole that swallows you,
traversing galaxies and spitting you into a nebula, suffocating you with stardust,
floating weightlessly, like a dream's feather in the hands of night, calling it rest,
but your bones whisper it's just a rehearsal for the grave waiting to embrace you.
Then, a comet bursts through the sky of the dream and you startle, gasping,
for it has already carved a crater in your fragile heart,
your eyes, once suns of your universe, look at the ceiling as at a fallen sky,
invoking collapse, wishing to release the comet, to unburden you from the weight of the day,
and you feel like a burdened spinning top, turning slowly under the weight of time,
until that hour of illusory rest returns, a ritual under the moonlight.
A Monster in My Closet
There’s a monster in my closet
He’s looking right at me;
His eyes glow red – his teeth are green;
He’s as scary as can be.
There’s an ogre in the corner
I know for sure he’s there;
I can smell his breath from here
And see his slimy hair.
There’s a gremlin behind my chair,
Growling like a beast;
Slowly now he creeps toward me;
Someone stop him please!
There's a giant river troll
Underneath my bed;
Snorting, drooling, hiding there -
I think his name is Fred?!
There’s a creature on my ceiling
Hanging from one claw;
Waiting just to pounce on me
With his grimy paws.
There’s phantom at my desk
Silent as can be,
Hovering up in the air,
Giant as a big oak tree.
There’s a goblin at my window
Trying to get in;
Tapping on the windowpane;
I see his sneering grin.
My mother comes to check on me;
She sees my fear, my fright;
Sitting on my bed she says:
“Turn on the light!”
Light flickers on the ceiling
In a weakened state, I wonder why
They are so cruel, all about money
Written in tears, the language I cry
Through the years, suffering carries on
As people stand with smiles, they mock
While the hurting fight their battles
Through every single fallen block
The evil thrive on their money
The victims become their prey
Hunters lurking in the shadows
Waiting for the ailing to come their way
Morals turn to dust, caring fades in echoes
All for the wounded to hear
Slowly deafened in defeat
With no resolution near
Those who understand,
Sadly have been through it
They travel through a dungeon
This country refuses to be lit
Heidi Sands
12/6/18
Looking For Sleep
God, just let me sleep
I have counted a million sheep
Stared at the ceiling
Listened to the crickets chirping
Even went and got warm milk
Still sleep avoids me
My mind will not shut down for the night
What will Sharion do with Michael
How will the people go on
What word rhymes with pompous
So many stories running through my mind
Poems that need to be written
But, not at that moment
Not when my eyes should be closed
It is so bad I started taking notes on toilet paper
My little pad ran out hours ago
Another night gone
One sunbeam hitting me from the dawn
I just want to forget the world and sleep
Maybe I will just delete my book
Stop writing poems and stop thinking
Then my eyes will close and I will fall to sleep
At least until my baby starts crying
Line of inquiry:
The dream seems real since we don a form,
borrowed from elements of that domain,
but if we simply chose not to conform,
we wake up when desires to rest are lain.
Unseeking Seeker
Caught in your white web of lies like black flies
Each dream a bubble bursting destroying lives
He said “I do” to more than one blushing bride
In more than one state or country claiming wives
Was watching TV when the glass ceiling broke
Illusion of solidity was a phantom a green ghost
Pictures of the women the children they tote
Your house of cards falling down a jaded joke
Fool me once silver shame on you
You made many fools saying “I do”