Long Chloroform Poems

Long Chloroform Poems. Below are the most popular long Chloroform by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chloroform poems by poem length and keyword.


An Infant's Bitter Cry

What did you see in me uncle?
How could you even hold me tight?
I was born just a few months ago
My tender body still didn't grow.

I slept by the side of my mom
You have shown her the smell of chloroform
You took me away from my lovely home
You made sure that we are all alone

I opened my eyes to the harshness of your touch
I realised that I'm no longer safe and sound
I cried in pain until your palm closed my mouth
I shook with fear and my eyes searched for mom 

You didn't just squeeze my skin but crushed the puny bones beneath it
You didn't just kiss my lips but caused my tender tongue to bleed
Your fingers ran across every corner of my shivering little body
Your pricky moustache irked every bit of my trembling nudity. 

I tried hard to shout but my voice melted in the fearsome silence of the lonely night
My eyes searched for my mom's arms but I couldn't realise that they were beyond reach
My breath choked to survive under your violent paws
My life helplessly moaned beneath your wild claws

Who are you to pluck this mom's little flower?
Who are you to burn down a father's happy hour?
Who gave you the right to vandalize my unborn future?
Who advised you rack my bones to showcase your musculature? 

Goodbye world, I'm leaving.
Your retribution on him should serve others, a learning
Don't just do a few candle rallies and forget me
For, within no time, another tender stem falls out from a green family tree.


The Guide

(A lone voice whispers)

What a year to be alive to see poetry still thrives

Want some new readers?

Well, I asked this once when I was institutionalised

Before in The Great In-Between 
I was baptised to be non institutionalised

So here's my advice 

Try to write immersive experiences 
For some long-lost legends whisper 

That every spirit seeks to walk in newer realms on their way to redemption 

So take your readers by the hand and like a leader 

Take them on soul tempting journeys into the unknown and mysterious 

Hold them mesmerised

Spellbound through words like ringing church bells

To keep them reading slowly like the birth of a caterpillar 

And when that red key eventually turns in their minds

To open a blue portal and enter them into a strange interdimensional place

Through the two great ancient white pillars

Of
Ashtara and Shoka
 
To where smoke and fire
Day and night burns 

A spiritual place
I call The Great In-Between

A mythical experience for the curious mind
Begins

A fog filled place where pain sorrow and sin

All things seen or unseen
Like love and happiness exists 

A wild place where darkness 

Shadows selves
Corwatturea creatures

Spirits
Angels and beauty 
Coexists 

In absolute tranquility and harmony

And you my friend 

In that subliminal moment, that red key turns

A new reader of yours is reborn

One who seeks their Drover
As their need and curiosity takes over

To move them through higher high roads and lower byroads 

Unexplored old church lanes 
Of joy and pain 

To walk them through the fire and snow storms 

To find a new mother load 
Via this underground railroad

Unspoken poetic stories to take them under like chloroform

For their souls 
After stepping into

The GREAT IN-BETWEEN 

Will have been truly transformed and renamed 

For now, they'll walk like new aged gods and goddesses 

Baptised in that smoke 
Fire and rain

To stand up strong like their newfound Drover 

And walk forward forever
Trying to stay pure and unashamed 

As their need for more
Takes over

(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member He Is Out There Again

“He is out there again.”
It was said in a menacing way.  One check-out woman to another,
In front of me, the customer.
It startled me.
Someone was out there.
But who?

Was he there for a solid reason,
Or was he there for an abduction?
The tone, and voice inflection, was that
It was a bad thing, for him to be out there.
My senses went to full alert.
Was he an arsonist?
Would he be burning the store
When we left?

Was he a car thief?
Had he already targeted my car?
Would he grab me and dose my
Nose and mouth with chloroform
So I’d be limp and pliable?
Should I ask for help out with
My groceries?

My imagination was getting the best
Of me, but I could not help myself.
I ran to my car as if a cheetah was after me.
Threw the groceries into the passenger seat
And jumped in.  Before I could turn the key
I saw the most forlorn, ignored, unloved puppy in the
World, in the cold, gazing at me from his cowering corner
Near the store.

Instantly in Mama mode, I jumped out of the car,
Forgetting to lock it and ran back into the store,
Straight to the dogfood aisle.  I put bits of dogfood
On the ground, leading to my car.

A man in a black pick-up truck met my eyes and
We smiled at each other.  I reached down and
Picked up the puppy. He snuggled under my arm.
I slid into the car with him, and pushed the 
Groceries onto the floorboard.  He resisted 
Being pushed away, but how could I drive
With a puppy on my lap?

As I turned the corner, I looked back
For a brief second and watched the man
With the pick-up truck carry another 
Almost identical puppy
Toward the corner where I had found
My puppy.  He put him down, and walked
Back to his pick-up truck.

I could not help but wonder if the check out
Woman was his partner in con?
Form: Narrative

Mighty Kong

He protected her from all the dinosaurs
Gave her the safety no one ever gave 
They shot him, hunted him 
With not even a consider
That she loved him, thanked him 
Saw the most beautiful scene 
No human ever saw
She rested in his paw 
But you took her 
Teared the love, the protection, the safety 
Caused the beast of the jungle 
To become a prisoner 
Prisoner of you, of your tries to rescue her
Though she was alright
The beast remained mad, angry of your existence
Of your crime 
When you rescued her 
Mighty Kong came running after you 
The guns were held, the chloroform was aimed
As soon as he came, countless ropes hunted him
Thousands bottles chloroformed his body
His eyes, his movements, his heart…
The protector’s end got him guilty 
Guilty of a crime not done, not faced, not planned 
Her voice called and cried out loud: STOP!
No replies or answers or even realization
The beast became the good 
And they became the beast 
Because of hunting, because of taking lives
Because of taking his freedom 
As soon as their ship sealed to a city 
Whose lights never slept? 
New York the shows were set 
The laughs were made on the protector
Chained, bleeding agony, sight needing only her
The girl that he saved 
As more laughs began and endless ridicules was made
The beast started to destroy the city
The city that got him to no peace
Because of greed, blood is spilled
Because of love, sacrifice is born
Because all this
Mighty Kong went searching and at last found
But not had enough time to enjoy 
Carried her to the tallest building in the whole town 
The most beautiful sunset was set
And the planes came shooting him from above
From behind, everywhere
And he had nothing but to protect her again 
From the spiteful human raise 
Finally the planes got their desire 
And he fell
Looking into her eyes
It is not the planes that took him down 
It is beauty that killed the beast…

Premium Member Lost My Freedom Once Upon a Time

I took it all for granted. The sky, the stars, the wind, 
the flowers, the grass, the trees.
I expected to see my friends every day, 
it was boring, dull, humdrum, if you please.
In my mediocre mind-set, I was walking to a friends’ house, 
not enjoying a breeze.
Not paying any attention to the sky, the wind, 
the flowers, the grass or the trees.

When I am grabbed from behind, very hard and fast, a murderer’s plan.
I am wrenched off my feet, and thrown into a hard, cold, uncaring van.
Chloroform is placed on my face, and I think I am going to the promise land.
I am out like a light, at the mercy of a non-writing rock and roll band.

I awaken on a firm mattress in the corner of a dark and dank cage.
Hey! Long-hair yells, she is awake. Let’s make her write us a poem or a page.
I sit up and glare at the four identically dressed men whose plan in unhinged.
If they think I am writing anything for them, they should try and think again. 

You are our prisoner, one tells me, in a really snotty, uppity way.
Yes, you can have food and stuff, but you are going to definitely stay
Until you write some songs for us, and they better be a hooray
Or we can get rid of you, for we are musicians, and we do not play.

They kept me for six years, when I never saw a park, dog or the sun.
Caged in a day care center with a bunch of two’s 
would have been quite a bit more fun.
Wrote many songs, about a clever woman who tricked her captor 
into letting her run,
But she got caught up in their drama, 
this intelligent slippery songwriter of one.

For years I did not see flowers, trees, or anything I used to not see.
Beauty I used to take for granted, and not care about, 
obtuse, I could be.
I did not see the stars, the sun, the snow, the moon, 
or my maniacal mean cousin Lee.
Prisoner until I had written songs for them, 
magic number six hundred eighty-three

Written 3-23-2019
Contest:  Freedom to nothing is something
Sponsor: Deliah Ventura
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member I Think of You - Ground Zero - 1

I Think Of You - Ground Zero (Part 1)

Leaving under a blood moon
                in a jet plane rising
  los angeles falls behind me
and I...

You.
Two.

                              Clouds dance
            to the song of the spiders.
Latent sun rays fall on me like rain...I 

...They say third time's the charm.
On planes again.
A sky...endless... and then finally 
from the other end of the world to here.
A continent, an island,
an australian flower drunk on wine.
Her...uniqueness lends to her beauty.
...and I

A fourth night.
A church spire at sunset.
At a distance bats fill the sky,
resemble a smoke plume.
...I 

I plead the fifth.
It's all these moons.
Tonight a hunter's moon.
She's unable to hide 
even with her bowl of clouds.
It's no help.
She has no spoon.
                     Her luminous rays give her up.
Moonshine in the moonlight over the sea.
...I 

I count...five, 
six...on the beach.
A purple nightshade,
a sand flower,
Irish eyes speak uniquely to me.
....I 

I, you...
you can't roll a seven with one die.

Back on a plane.
A snow fog blinding.
From my window seat a one of a kind view.
Alone,
...I

 I eight...ate...need to eat.

Africa...a Safari.
A plant chloroform green
has holes like cheese.
A large swiss leaf.
I laugh and I...I distract myself.

A stitch in time beats nine.
 Back in North America.
A dilapidated fortress stares down 
an overwhelming thunderhead.
...I 

I camp out.
It requires a tenth...tent.
An Eagle never blinks.
No eye lids.
An unimpeded view.

...but I...I surrender.
There is no place in the world
I can escape.
...I 

i think of you.

You are living art.
Here.
Now.
What I perceive 
is what I live.
I perceive us.

I can picture you.
I am photography,
the camera, the lens.
I absorb your image,
process it.
A form of plagiarism

I didn't borrow.
I stole.
Inhaled you but 
...I
I dream
and I...

...i think of you.



Armand
March 11 2015

Premium Member Unassailable Purity

When accidental 
auroras stroll along 
the pale highlights of
camouflaging corpses
and death blossoms
in vulturous hearts of 
dreadful puppets, 
she always holds
pixie dusts of 
strawberry seeds within 
october's obsidian quartz. 

Gaze beyond those
glass-stitched horizons, 
as she cracks the 
carmine cocoon of 
judgemental juxtapositions 
and transforms 
carbon-coated 
milliseconds to 
magenta-gold 
pronunciation of 
peaceful phrases. 
She is a silken 
cream-dove, 
floating above 
murky musings of 
redolent rhinestone-
reveries. 

As prismatic primroses 
shall cleanse every 
sin from the witching 
spellbook, she will waltz 
in whispering lulls of liberty,
emancipating from 
chloroform-stained 
chains of blood-
scented blames. 

Her sunflower-shield 
and aurous 
summer-sword of 
amber poesy
can slice spicy 
silhouettes of 
graphite goblins, 
she will never 
surrender to those 
misinterpreting
megalomaniac minds, 
who twirl along 
masquerading rivulets 
of manipulative 
assumptions. 

She is the shiniest roar
above grimoires of grief, 
like an 'unassailable purity', 
washing away 
emerald exhales of pain, 
who mutes each cosmic
raven's lament and 
distils russet-white-lilies with 
her alchemical aroma.

No One Stops the Storm

There’s a storm and it is raging.

It crackles deadly light.

There’s a hurricane-a-waging

A war we can not fight


There’s a powerful wind-a-roaring

Gusting money as quick as can be

There’s wondrous drops-a-pouring

Tastes of power, sweet and beastly.


No soul escapes the gales–

Many victims wound up dead

Their cold blood freezes into hail

And give succor to its spread


Most knew the storm must stop

So they gathered on a shore

On the waves one stood atop

And the storm began its war


The Commander screamed ‘attack!’

And some fought, but still had lost

The storm let out a wild crack!

And there lied The Commander on the cross


They didn’t die in vain

As cloud poured of chloroform

The rest cried out in pain

“Shall we never halt the storm?”
Form: Rhyme

Casey Anthony -Cay Lee

(07/05/11)

She had been acquitted by a jury of her peers
Amongst anger, hatred, bitterness and fear.
95% of the public know in their hearts
That this child s life was torn apart.
Circumstantial evidence and hearsay
Helped this woman to get away.

Where is the justice for her little girl
A gem, a diamond, a beautiful pearl.
Claims that her daughter drowned in the pool
Making the jurors the biggest fools.


A search for chloroform on the internet
And it gets better yet.
Chloroform residue and duct tape
Found in the car- the same that was 
found on little  Cay lee.
2 plus 2 -that the jury could not see
Leaves this case a mystery.

So many questions and doubts in my mind
But she got away with it- she did fine.

                     CAY LEE
So these words are for the spirit of cay lee
May she finally find peace, love and harmony.

Cay lee is our child although short lived
But this world has a love for you
More than your mother could ever give.

You have captured the hearts of this nation
Amongst the bickering and devastation.
Lies have been told- and stories have been changed
While you laid in a cold covered grave.

Your beautiful face and beautiful smile
Will be with us for quite a while.
But you are one of GODS cherubs
No more living in fear or gloom.
You have such beautiful wings
For this is the first thing that the angels did bring.
 You can fly above the ground- and see all
The love as you look down.

Every heart has a place for you
And we will miss you - this much is true.
But you are now with GOD above
And you will have overflowing love.
© Louis Rams  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Sought Caught

They found me hiding under the stairwell 
There were three or four of them, 
I couldn’t really tell 
They used chloroform to knock me out 
They placed it over my nose and mouth 
When I came to, my eyes felt like lead 
My head pounded and my nose bled 
They gagged me and sat me down on a broken wooden chair 
They burnt chunks out of my hair 
The room was dark, not a drizzle of light 
There were too many of them, for me to fight 
I couldn’t scream, I tried to shout 
No words came out of my mouth 
My face was swollen, my lips dry 
I could not move and I didn’t know why 
Shots were fired in the air 
Sounds of scrambling everywhere 
They fled the scene as fast as they could 
And left me to die in this dangerous neighborhood.
Form: Rhyme

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