Long Churned Poems
Long Churned Poems. Below are the most popular long Churned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Churned poems by poem length and keyword.
When you vowed your love, like a fairy, forever,
And fluttered about, like, possessed by new heaven,
I rolled my loneliness like a quilt in cover.
And got fermented by you like flour by leaven...
Your smile was as though the constellation twinkling,
For your love, I thought, I will take many a birth,
Your gestures went beyond all poetic jingling;
To make you immortal I'd kill the very death...
Why darling, soon, your bejeweled image got changed?
Where had your smile-beams found their hidden hiding place?
Your milky mind like an ocean of poison churned!
Slowly, forever, gloom shadowed your lovely face!
Does the sea, yet, stop the wavered wave coming home?
I'll wait for you, though you love, like a swift, long roam.
10 August 2021
Mystified me, the expressions so weird;
Neither love nor acceptance
It stirred my soul, churned my mind
Why so?? bewilderment continued...
Humiliation, reprimands, insults
Discrimination, innuendo, malice
victimised the poor,the needy,the deprived
Unheard men,their voice suppressed!
Situation proliferated and protracted
Proofs to augmenting denial,disgrace and social decay.
Even in death none to commiserate!
No helping hands to lift them all.....
Never in my thought would i ever wish
to immortalise this picture of colossal wreck;
Let miracle happen and herald a tide
to wash away this plight and resurrect this all
Deep within, my soul cries, why is it real
Why is it happening???
The only solace I find is a ray of hope
that a miracle occurs and ignites a spark of resurrection ,
to mop all discrimination and vices with its gentle sweep!
Tasked to continue smooth function of cult compound
Sixteen svelte helpers of mindless vibrant physiche
Hurl their determination found in daily frequency
Milking cows, picking fruit, darning gowns
Draped swathes of cotton smother love worthy curves
Bunches clutched in fervent fists denote proactive
Chores suppress boredom, hours fast elapsing
Hushed among bustle, humbly built church
Rhythmic teat pinching hands press in prayer's commit
Wrists sturdy obedient, cream transform churning
Hundred shelled peas, obligated with urgency
Bound by scripture, called upon to submit
Duty is God's Will, blessed purpose supports hordes
Beauty unrecognised hair spun buns traditional
Released flaxen waterfall for richeous ritual
Sacramental fodder, holiest of whores
Chosen childless worship circle of dedicated wombs
Esteem rodeo results in offspring from Minister
Fallen garland bruised petalled begins her
Observance unto sermons emtombed
31st December
Cursed Yearning
"Serenity`s a silent lake within,
Where troubled tides and currents cease to spin,
The real source of endless inner peace
And the true fount of the soul`s earthly bliss." By Author
*********************************************************************************************************
A serene lake spreads in me deep inside,
A seamless tide where anxious thoughts subside;
No storm rages, no wild wind does endure,
Just peaceful waters, calm and crystal pure.
As I breathe in and out in quiet night
With no single noise to disturb in sight,
The mind, a pond, is no more tossed and churned,
But from this serenity, calm it earns.
The world outside may whirl with worried face,
But here within, there lies a silent space.
A safe sphere of stillness, sweetish and low,
Where seeds of stillness starts to softly grow.
No urgent call, no clamour to attend,
Just moments stretching, with no sudden end,
The heart finds respite, a haven so blessed,
Where tempestuous tremors tread to rest.
The moonbeams filter through my window panes,
A dappled pattern, flowing through my veins,
While sparkling stars sing a melody mild,
Nature’s soothing song, stirring a sweet smile.
This serene state`s a gift that can be found
When silence speaks, shorn of every single sound,
A quiet strength, a spirit light and free,
The sweet unfolding of serenity.
This quiet grace, a treasure to behold,
More precious than a story to be told.
A gentle knowing, deep within the breast,
That all is well, set for the very best.
The self within, seeking serene release,
In such serenity finds profound peace,
The soul awakens, clear, sharp and deep bright,
Bathed in the glow of pure and endless light.
No need a serene lake to seek outside
Or sit down lonely by the river`s side,
The lake within is the true source of bliss
The real fount of endless inner peace.
Sand only looked to alight,
find some alone-time in the muck
no fuss was meant, it is only a space
as big as a grain taken, escaping its identical
brethren of billions on the sea floor.
Oyster only opened his rigid
lips to rinse, to breathe the brine,
to move a snack through his labial palps
in private, when a tiny intruder, unwelcome,
unbidden, disturbs the digestion,
initiates the unintended consequence
of oyster's defensive reaction.
Called upon, mitigation arrives over time.
Nacre warriors, layer by layer, smooth
sand's edges to soothe oyster's irritation,
an effort that deafens new pleas from a grain
now only looking to go home.
In the dark-churned slime, desire
emerges as a luster in the mud, a dazzling
monster named Pearl, radiant and angry, hard
with longing to be unloosed from her mucous
roots. She sends dreams as currency of streaming
shimmers, to bolster her chances of freedom
from an endless, watery night.
Lured by the glimmer, human hands pry open
shy bivalve, tongue and lips slurp up the middle
like a salty kiss, until teeth accidental onto eager Pearl
warmed by the breath.
For the indiscretion she now sits pocketed in slacks
belonging to hands with plans to pierce her spine,
string her along, then hang her on another lover's neck—
stranger to sand and pearl, already grown
wayward in closeness, is a new desire that oyster
degrade on ocean's bottom, turn into sand and join them
on the choker.
My Take
Thoughts of Miracle Man
November 7 2020
Two thousand twenty, an unforgettable year,
it’s been a wake up call throughout the land.
Nonetheless we quarantine consumed by fear,
And question the decisions of those who stand.
It was a time to determine what’s important in life,
procrastinating, we watched as calendar days churned.
We’ve dealt with a virus and discontent was rife,
forgetting foregone days our bridges we’ve burned.
Many saw their opinion as the only one to count,
refusing to listen when opposition had spoken.
Refusing to compromise caused division to mount,
leading me to believe that our system is broken.
These days, actors and singers serve my catapult mayhem,
sometimes they are catalyst too!
I sing in between their lines of songs
their churned up recorded whims, hums, and candid cataracts!
And some days, whence things get screwed up
about a random psychotic feed back ,on a laminated free verse!
A day care and a festive color season!
Once small pox diagnosed ,
they let the sick baby get a safe mode, in an arranged detour reason, instead.
For a submission and a genuine submittal try!
On a humorous cover page , it calms down the wildest underneath rage, outcry!
Everything is clouded, intranet, inter too!
Nonetheless, a Fine arts diploma travels to the farthest east and swings to west,
they surely do!
To and fro round trip with a lonely estranged,
to Alaka and the random Parthenon
to cuddle Athena to wrap the scar, very own
before applying to have a trip to scar benign
Certainly,
We knew the translators' sage first,
Before originals tried to happen there, in a diaspora or wanderlust.
Please allow me a reason to try, anyway , anymore
before, they even try to be happy , at least mock or greet
and then eventually, troubleshoot for the love story ever after, special treat!
I am sorry, Joanna, on behalf of the survey-monkey!
You know me now. And the poem from the day care of Maxim Gorky!
Light fades from their eyes
As flames light up the skies
Heavy smoke clung they could not breathe
As the fire took trees grass and seeds
Embers burned and fell like volcano ash
Raining down on top of the city streets
Daylight became like the darkness of night
All became smoky and hidden from sight
It crackled, it sizzled it burned
a wall of fire as it churned
Destroying like a destroyer
Nothing stood in its path
It consumed left nothing untouched
It smoldered and then grew hot
It reached for things it could reap
Anything that was within its reach
It lept, it jumped could not be contained
A immense wall of heat and flames
It left a path devastation
while forcing a huge migration
While the fire burns on.
06/05/16
Mind, like a deciduous forest
has lost all its foliage,
all leaves torn away
by the autumnal blasts.
The brain where great schemes were concocted
is now an abyss where spiders sway
It is bare – dismally barren
of all memories – sweet and sour.
Like a kite afloat in the boundless sky
moving nowhere, but as the wind directs,
cut out from the past, turned from the present
with the future yet to surge from the abyss
or like serpents intertwining,
hissing in turmoil within the brain,
unable to sense the gusty blast,
or hear the whispering air,
dead to sounds that disturb,
deaf to songs that soothe,
like a phantom he moves weird,
drifting far away to a space and time impenetrable,
with nothing to make the mind agog
or depress it to let out a sigh.
Loitering on roads without hurrying feet,
with no bliss coming on the way
to run or hasten to embrace
or fear to be missed sore.
Passing through dark labyrinthine tunnels,
forever barred with no exit,
churned in oblivion, oblivious of all,
he remains a spectral facsimile
of his onetime self, plummeting into a black hole.
The pulse of a heart beat
is all that keeps him alive,
all else is dead…… !
He lives with dreary nights ahead,
that shall not know another morrow!
Some fried chicken and fried potatoes,
pot full of beans, and sliced tomatoes.
I hear catfish sizzling in hot oil,
and some fresh picked corn waiting to boil.
Old folks sit at the big oak table,
kids sit down wherever they’re able.
There’s fresh churned butter and sweet cornbread,
enough food to keep an army fed.
After supper and the dishes done,
we head on outside to start the fun.
Children chasing the fireflies and bugs,
men drinking some shine from old stone jugs.
Making ice cream by turning the churn,
each little kid waiting for their turn.
Old folks rocking in their rocking chairs,
kids sitting around on the porch stairs.
Well daddy plays a mean guitar beat,
you wanna get up and move your feet.
Then he’ll softly strum on that six string.
while grandma and momma start to sing.
Grandpa’s up and he’s raring to go,
stomping his feet and giving a show.
Dancing line forms over on the right,
can’t beat another Saturday night.
After the kids have been put to bed,
moonshine still filling the old folk’s head.
They sit back telling tales of back when,
and wishing they could be young again.
Me and you’ll sneak down to the creek bank,
listen to Waylon, Willie, and Hank.
We’ll lay on our backs and watch the stars,
talking of how we’ll make this world ours.
We’ll snuggle under the full lit moon,
and let nature play its gentle tune.
Everything is gonna feel all right,
when you come over Saturday night.