Long Cinder Poems
Long Cinder Poems. Below are the most popular long Cinder by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cinder poems by poem length and keyword.
Twice
by Michael R. Burch
Now twice she has left me
and twice I have listened
and taken her back, remembering days
when love lay upon us
and sparkled and glistened
with the brightness of dew through a gathering haze.
But twice she has left me
to start my life over,
and twice I have gathered up embers, to learn:
rekindle a fire
from ash, soot and cinder
and softly it sputters, refusing to burn.
Originally published by The Lyric. Keywords/Tags: relationship, reunion, reuniting, divorce, parting, break up, breaking up, fire, embers, soot, cinder, cinders, sputter, sputters, sputtering, cool, cold, ash, ashes, winter, dark
Christmas is supposed to be a day of great joy.
But in less than one hour we'll all be destroyed.
Nuclear missiles are being launched and all of our lives will end.
You'd better get ready to say goodbye to your family and friends.
Soon this planet will be nothing but a radioactive cinder in space.
It is terrifying because it will be the end of the human race.
It's terrible that they chose Christmas Day to have a third world war.
Soon our land, animals, families, and friends won't exist anymore.
Tell your family and friends that you love them because you won't have a chance to
say it again.
It's evil to destroy the world on the day when we're supposed to have peace on
Earth and goodwill to all men.
Unmet expectations damage the dormant psyche,
futile promises smother the rays of fading hope,
unkind words tear the lattice of my mangled mind.
My life is wrecked by your grotesque conduct.
Your senses become the fast spreading wild fire,
uncontrolled, it boils the blood of your intrinsic pride,
and as it flares up, it burns my gentle demeanor.
Its ferocity blazes the bonhomie of bonding chords.
Your flashing eyes reveal you seethe hideously inside,
generate a malice inferno of a monster in your heart .
The twisted tongue spills out your sentiments so sadistic,
smeared with the vicious venom of your gruesome mind.
The scruple of sane sagacity turns into shredding cinder,
erupting out of your fuming volcanic fervent fury,
flows in the spreading smoke of stifling spite,
consuming the remains of reason you lose frenzied.
The scorched petals of my floral essence are dislodged
by the fierce dust storm of passionate perturbation.
The torn flower vainly tries to regain the lost grace,
sees the dreams turn into debris, suffering a silent pain.
With the arcane acumen of a trickster devil,
as sordid silhouette of menace you crawl stealthily
into the quintessence of my life to suck the ambrosia
of my soul, the casualty of your monstrous cruelty.
you make me break free
you see the good in me
you challenge my method of man
you soften the cinder block of my plan
you warm the frigidity of my soul
you loosen the reigns of my control
you show me the newest familiar art
you give me lovin' that is truly off every chart
you taught me about the treasured island of love
you taught me how to take off the protective glove
you gave me a reason to love and to live
you showed me the meaning to share and to give
you mapped out the better ways in which to go
you pointed me in the right directions to help me to truly grow
you picked me up when i was down, and with all your strength you carried me
you showed me that i really matter....the day you agreed and married me
From riven ways and lent-for heaven’s vault
we clime on breath enwrit with slender ink,
each word a sworn avouchment ’gainst the dark,
each line a stout denial unto Lethe.
Hands erst in thrall do now the aether shape
with sigils forged of cinder, ash, and balm;
the orphan’s moan, the widow’s fervent cry,
lie twinn’d upon one consecrated leaf.
No tongue herein is beggared or despised—
the hush’d confession, clamant plea alike;
the scripture born of weal and wounded flesh
doth pace as peers in kingly even-stead.
We sing of marches loos’d from iron will,
of Right relearning how to quicken fair;
for Peace is not engender’d out of hush,
but sired by heedful ear to elder griefs.
This labour is no idle courtly sport,
nor dalliance of metre, wit, and breath—
it is a synod call’d by mortal hope,
where Mercy mounts the throne of trembling Fear.
Here, in these staves, the world recalls itself:
that Freedom waketh when all tales are weigh’d,
and Concord draweth first untroubled breath
when every soul long mute is bid to sing.
Born orphan, the torture of her stepmother and stepsisters
shaped the fairy tale Cinderella with fire, the ember girl,
who didn’t dream seeing the dormant love bloom,
but seethed within to take the retaliatory revenge.
On the night of the grand royal ball the cruel family
left bedecked with jewels and satin for the palace,
locking her in the attic in the company with rats.
She didn’t cry, performed a mystic trick, mother taught.
She came out glowing, dressed in a gorgeous golden gown,
wearing slippers made not of glass, but of sharp steel.
She strode elegantly like a flame in the wind to the ball
where she saw her stepsisters dancing with the prince.
Like a mesmerized moth the prince was drawn to her fire.
They danced passionately amidst the petrified spectators.
The entranced prince slowly burned in the embrace of ember,
while the stepsisters fumed in anger and envy.
When the clock struck twelve at the fated midnight hour,
the music stopped for a while in dead stillness.
The spell on the stunned prince was shattered
as with the steel slipper she stabbed him with a smile.
She ran away barefoot, disappeared like flying cinder,
getting the torment of stepmother and stepsisters avenged.
We are these Irish people
"Are Problematic!!!!"
Why?
Tissnt birthed of ink Elizabeth
The inkling romes
The prerogative jollies as a gent in
The Americas
Play his phones
Father
Lord of manner I shall not weep from
backwords she can't gavel
above her the beast
hateful of beauty in arrival
to learn the day
to burn the way
opened eye must, alone
become a sacrifice
not to a throne she bevels
his edge lower and unaware
the liberty of private war
she alas will declare
this and thou
is how we leave the tombs
handled over too many ways
and consumed
succumb to my fate
walk towards the water
be not less, be not with me
The American Elegant
Portrait artists as shame
Cinder the shackles ballroom
Within a distance a dandy boys wedding
Freedom of tooling and pry
Only as field creates night hours
Will assembly of room have more to tell itself
Grand that
A wasting of children, you say loving sounds
Owning a vineyard for shawls on men
Preoccupied station wears little labors in
Boy George rules!
Do you really want to hurt me?
1936?
The finance charge of robes
Un framing the dish
How have you been fed?
Upright and straw.
Mangled Time
Datura(belladonna perhaps in another form)
Matures the galaxy in jealousy despising love
Releasing jasmines death twisting Aphrodite's heads upon loves rewinding failures
Creation in question
Call from my mouth your kindness
Respond silence
Squander obnoxious craft
Illness requires me
And again
I disappear your vapors
In God We Trust
Resign
Free speech
None shall assert over peace
An assembly of law
Against the Union
Line is Held
Constitution is boundary
That all men aren't created equal in time
None shall avoid record of line.
Your position igniting and release of cinder
In citation of violation
As action as ridicule
Arresting speech rather than resigning
God In Which We Trust
Defines freedom of speech
None shall capture and divise self interesting reserves of provisional supply of the Union.
Creation of poverty's length is drawn against liberty
Starving allegiance
One origin of incedence is little Caesars thousand oaks
Indifferent by intent
Cliche Spending Patters in Petrol
Creation of audit
And mis alignment
Thank you for your submission
The heart of our star, a ceaseless furnace, begins to wane,
Its hydrogen spent, its helium core the final grain.
The ancient balance, a dance of fire and gravity’s pull,
Now falters, as the life-giving light rises less than full.
The core contracts, a desperate, conclusive, fiery breath.
The outer layers bloat and swell, embracing cosmic death.
A Red Giant structure, a monstrous, ruby, burning sphere,
Swallowing Mercury, then Venus, as the end draws near.
Our own pale dot: the earth, is scorched, its oceans turned to steam,
A silent cinder in an extended forgotten dream.
In this last act of defiance, the solar winds will roar,
Shredding the star’s own self, a shell of gas and dust no more.
A beautiful, sad dispersal, the stellar guts unfurled,
A vibrant, glowing nebula, a shroud around our world.
Central to the spectacle, a tiny, dynamic light,
The Sun’s remnant, a White Dwarf, begins its eternal night.
No longer fusing elements, just cooling, growing dim,
A silent headstone to the star that once filled every brim.
And in that stardust, scattering, advancing far and wide,
The iron in our blood, the elements where life could hide,
As it yields to the universe, a legacy of grace,
It is a part of the endless cycle, both time and space.
The star is gone, its children are the proof it shone so bright,
Our atoms bound to wander in the everlasting night.
(I just edited this to include the word "rhyme" within the poem, if that was needed)
378 days of bliss; then for no rhyme or reason came 176 of living hell.
Those last days have shown me that I didn’t know my lover very well.
To think we made it last more than a year is a surprise.
Now I see him coming and I want to close my eyes!
Whatever did I find attractrive in that man’s smug face?
How could my adored have taken such a fall from grace?
26 times since 2010 I saw a shrink; life became so grim.
All 26 times were just from those last several months with HIM.
This Cinder Girl has had it. In hell she’d rather burn
than let that guy who burned her once ever again RETURN!
Written last week for Funom Makama's Views For Poems Poetry Contest
AT that time, my number of views for Cinder Girl was at 378,176 (used in line 1)
The date it was first posted at Soup was 2/6/2010 (used in line 7)
Cinder Girl AND this poem are both rhymed poems.