Long Choking Poems
Long Choking Poems. Below are the most popular long Choking by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Choking poems by poem length and keyword.
Hey! Whoa! Easy there, tiger
Umm, hello? Excuse me...
Just because you're my master
Doesn't mean I have to tolerate this
Doggone it, I'm a Pit Bull!
A king. A man's best friend
Don't you know how vicious I can be?
I deserve more respect!
Stop choking me with the damn leash
Don't you see how mad I look?
Do you even care?
Walk a little slower when you walk
You've got two legs; I've got four
I should be quicker on my feet!
If you keep dragging me along
Tightening this leash around my neck
Before long, you'll be putting up
Yet another "Lost Dog" sign
Shouldn't we talk to Cesar Milan
About our relationship?
YOUR CHOICE (10)PERSONIFICATION ,any form,any theme
Sponsored by Brian Strand (Winner: 1st Place)
Date submitted: 06/15/2019
Personification Poem Of A Pet, Wild Animal Or Insect Poetry Contest
Winner(8th Place)
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
Date written and posted: 09/02/2018
She leaves Southampton
This Titanic ship
Her maiden voyage
New York trip
Channel crossings to Cherbourg, France
To Queenstown in Ireland
Where passengers dance
To some, a new life awaits
The future will seal their fate
Newfoundland waters
Temperature drop
Impending disaster
Without a thought
Lookouts, Fleet and Lee
Spot a large iceberg close to she
Sitting off her starboard bow
Sweat dripping from their brow
Telegraph indicator
In confusion state
This colossus of ice
Sits and waits
Inevitable meet
As natures diamond rips
Starboard side
Of this most wonderful ship
Rivets pop, buckled hull
Atlantic intrusion, in volumes now
Compartments fill, this White Star gem
Will we ever see her likes again
Distress signal sent
As the crew are readied
This ship of ships
Emotionally unsteady
Lifeboats launched
Woman and children first
On this terrible night
Many fear the worst
So many passengers
Few lifeboats
As all around
Bodies float
Stern raised, props showing
Metal talking, funnels choking
Lights flicker off and on
Blackout
This won’t hurt me at all; it’ll hurt you.
The meek shall be buried in coffins of little worth
Don’t put off ‘til tomorrow what you can put off forever
Don’t call me. In fact, forget we even met.
Crime may not pay, but at least it’s exciting
Smoking is glamorous ~ so is dying
Larry Bird in your hand is worth both of George Bush’s
Rome wasn’t built in a day; neither was your bulging stomach.
Talk is cheap, especially when it’s you talking.
The rain in Spain is mainly a great big pain.
It’s either the wolf at the door or the three little pigs.
Worse than a worm in your apple is ½ a worm
Laughter is the best medicine, unless you’re choking to death
The sign said ‘No bikinis allowed,’ so I took yours off
Always eat a big breakfast, so you can work your ass off the rest of the day
Mares eat oats, and goats eat oats, but little lambs follow CDC guidelines *
___________________________________________________________________________________
* CDC = Center for Disease Control
I was in a sound sleep
ahem.. ahem...
ahem.. ahem...
Suddenly heard someone cough
Then, i quickly opened my eyes
to just find a heart lying on a thermal surface
wriggling & weeping for support
Oh...unfortunately it was Mine..
My Brain had a stroke watching at a strange sight instantly..
Strong choking feel in my neck..
Mouth remained unclosed for people to hear my voice box scream..
Hands and legs were in paralysed state
Blood slowly kept dripping from my soul..
and tears leaking out of my glorious eyes
Oops...there i stood ..
freezing into a lifeless statue..!
[struck by the storm of ephemeral stillness........]
Gosh..
I urgently wanted Life..!
Unexpectedly, there came my Hero
stood by my side
Gazed..
Gazed deeply into me
Finally touched with his magical fingers
And...wow
i saw myself ..
lying on the couch alive
On his...broad shoulder..!
16-6-2021
~DEEPA.V
NOTE: ALL YOURS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by BRIAN STRAND
FIRST PLACE:-)
they said i was heartbroken, i said a part of me died
they said i was hurting, i said i was mourning
in the words of Carl Jung, the boy in me died
the Puer Aeternus had to die for my survival
mourning was essential to release the man,
the man suppressed by the continued existence of the boy
he died of waiting, the man arose from acting
survival was choking, and so living life was a necessity
lacing up the shoes was the only thing left untouched
not to run from the taunting past, oh no, far from it,
but to run into the necessary future, into the vision
a book on the desk, a glow shines on it from the beaten lamp
a glow that the Puer Aeternus would have urged to wait a little longer,
to wait until it was brighter, better for the eyes
but the man, Senex, that is all he needs to create a boundary,
yes, a boundary that shuts out the darkness of the past
under the glow of the lamp, discipline turns dreams into strategic plans,
a blueprint that guides the growth of the monster
a creature sworn to the mission of the future,
where any writings will be a contract,
a contract between the mind and the man
as the clock turns, an alarm sounds from afar
time for the Puer Aeternus’ whispers to be ignored
time for the lamp’s light to hit the page
time for the ink to inscribe the first contract,
effectively signing the death certificate
of the Puer and the charter of the Man
Some claimed that Camelot was noble,
a place built upon the stony ground
of good-intentions,
it was new and fangled,
it was progressive
in a time of little progress.
I have seen it, I was there,
always there was the choking fog
of intrigue,
even the unintrigued grabbed their throats
least subversive thoughts escaped them.
Old King Arthur was deliriously inane,
the people pitied him and did not love him,
some said he was an alien lizard being,
some claimed that he was soulless,
or so it seemed,
and yet he was forever babbling
about restoring the soul of the Kingdom.
Corruption grew like a malignant Ivy.
The women of Camelot were constantly angry,
their anger made them fat with a wishful bile.
Many females wanted to be men,
yet strangely enough they hated the menfolk.
The men were fragile and sensitive,
Merlin had cursed them
with the fey magic of 'Low T'.
Trust me, it was a great day
when the kingdom fell
to the massed hordes of disaffected
and disgruntled Goths.
Fresh blood was drunk from royal goblets,
children with wooden swords
chased the pork out of feral gangs
of squealing hogs
until they were as nakedly pink
as plucked chickens.
Quote "Dont play with fire - It doesn't play fair"
This has been attributed to a song by the Rolling Stones.
It started with burning embers, Prometheus, the fire god casts an evil spell.
Then starts spot fires turning shrubs and plants into a smoldering dell .
Conditions are unbearable and the growing flames are fanned by the breeze.
Wind is an enemy as the hungry flames catch the trunks of mighty trees.
The sky is now black as choking smoke fills the air, making it hard to breathe.
Treetops are ablaze and what’s home to the animals begin to wilt and seethe.
Fast travelling flames are on the run, the smell is intense, everything blazing.
Sound of crackling as branches snap and fall, the flame’s speed is amazing.
Billowing smoke, an acrid smell of charred wood as trees tumble into ashes
As crimson hot flames reach skyward, they glisten as the wild inferno flashes.
Humans gasping, animals whimper, this tumultuous pyre has sealed my fate.
Escape is hopeless as poisoned fumes engulf, now it’s way too late.
Breathing is no longer an option as I struggle to take in a small amount of air.
Breathless, I succumb to the soaring heat’s ravenous effects, fire is everywhere.
Death bubbles by
in such a sorrowful state.
A snowflake melting
in the midst of life.
A rusty knife
the tip of which protrudes
to make a third nipple.
Creating nary a ripple
in the scheme of things.
Which brings us to an impasse.
Unobstructed,
Our methodology measures
the in-constitute and volatile breaking of sound?
One cup sound; two cups shatter,
an eardrum rapidly boiled.
Why would it matter?
Death rattles by
Cough Cough choking on
his chopstick nun-chuck
glory road to Hell.
Did I say for whom the bell
tolls now?
Did I mention that it’s NOT
some sacred cow?
Be silly-still and listen
to the feeling of guilt
Measure your Mayonnaise Days
with Infinite Care
dollops of sweetness
filling you up to the hilt
A Fruitcake Day
in the ordinary life
of an insect.
Our problems all began with the industrial revolution
And its legacy has left us with toxic pollution.
Climate change is real and been declared a code red
And if we chose to ignore it, we'll all end up dead.
It's not a new problem, they've been saying it for years
Driven by greed and profit now there will be tears.
Ice caps are melting, I'm sure you already know
And soon the polar bears will have nowhere to go.
Sea and river levels are a worry as they continue to rise
Houses and cars swept away before our very eyes.
Wildfires are quite common now the air is so dry
Many people lose their homes, sadly many of them die.
Not forgetting wildlife, they too perish in the flames
Insurance firms kept busy with thousands of claims.
Our vast oceans too have become a dumping ground
With oil slicks and plastics, just some of the things found.
We burn fossil fuels that release carbon to keep us warm
Now we must find an alternative that wont cause us harm.
Pesticides sprayed on crops with no thought for the bees
Forests cut down ruthlessly, soon there will be no trees.
Action is needed now, they know what's needed to be done
Because when it gets worse there will be nowhere to run.
In the distant future an apocalyptic waste land will be
And all because of mankinds greed and his own stupidity.
Every country must play its part, not just one or two
And every individual on earth that's me and you.
Dinosaurs roamed earth and disappeared mysteriously
And here we all are creating our own catastrophe.
And the many idiots out there who think it's a big joke
They won't find it so funny when they're choking on smoke.
Written 13th August 2021
What if...
They are only two small words,
Harmless enough when left alone,
Silent, so long as they do not lean toward each other.
But the moment they touch, something in the dark stirs.
A door unlatched, a wound reopened, a shadow that follows you home.
It asks only one thing of you:
What if I had chosen differently?
That is enough to send the mind drifting into places it should not go,
Through the graves of the past,
Through the choking stillness of the present,
Toward futures that linger like ghosts beyond a locked door.
Some paths might have spared you,
Others still move behind you, soft-footed and patient.
That is the curse of those two words:
They can bury you in a life that never happened.
© Poem – XVII/V/MMXXVI
LRET