Long Clavicle Poems
Long Clavicle Poems. Below are the most popular long Clavicle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clavicle poems by poem length and keyword.
Go on make a wish, for mine came true
A sure thing, appeared out of the blue
Make it a good one, could be your last
Everything eventually, comes to pass
Wish for happiness, wish for release
Make sure it’s something, within reach
You won’t be able, to resurrect the dead
That would be a miracle, all being said
Go on make a wish, do it straight away
For who grants, these requests anyway
Toss some coins, into a fountain or well
Cross your fingers, to enhance the spell
Touch wood, in case things turn to stone
Break a chickens clavicle, old wishbone
Seek shooting stars, find pie in the sky
I wished my life away, time duly obliged.
By
David Kavanagh
From marrow to vein the thin thread of memory drags another new malignancy out into the light.
I shall tuck it, as a gift, within Destot’s space and leave it to harden and calcify until it’s colour is pale and stony.
This new seed inside my hidden framework will soon germinate, but will never push out towards the dying constellations.
Instead, it will coil its way along ulna, humerus and clavicle and bind bad dreams into a hard, red jewel that will nestle between skull and vertebrae.
Cartilage grinds and sinew creaks as this bud of echoes sprouts and entwines
up through mandible and tooth.
Knife to neck, hand in pajamas, sodden mattress, accusations, laughter under dimming lights.
All of these petals are forever open and held aloft by invading stems that relentlessly offer up the blooms of another time.
I am encased, but the stories of my joints continue to thrive and search a path through my skeletal remorse.
And I will always stop to smell the flowers.
Written: September 24, 2023
_____________________________________________________________
In the dawn-like haze—a shriek was heard,
An echo so shrewd, yet birdless, oddly slurred
It was ordained by—a stratum unseen,
A throbbing coerce, a numen so keen.
A canticle flower—a bellow coarsely flung,
Through bosky drifts, those shadows clung.
The broken clavicle, brittle skull,
Doused in lacquer—a tale to annul.
Cried creative bone, from annals of time,
In a secluded hut—where lamina chime.
With guttural utterance—the gowk did sing,
Fluted notes on brinks of obsidian string.
Cloaked in the dimly lit mist, a canon of clamor,
Shaping the world with a mystic glamour.
In the glum of worship, a rite did splay,
As voices uttered—in a solemn display.
A corpse lay still, in the midst of the scene,
Dazzled by the entombing, a nebulous flesh serene.
Funerary hums—in syllabic verse,
Resonated through time, as a solemn curse.
In an urn—fugally adorned
With fugal melodies, the ashes were borne,
A symphony of sorrow, a requiem grand,
For the soul departed, to a distant land.
The misty air whispered—in mournful tones,
As the funerary procession made its way,
A solemn journey, through the mist, embrace.
To the final resting place, where shadows trace.
And so, the hum continued, a haunting refrain,
As the earth embraced the remains.
Silent and still—in eternal rest,
In the hallowed ground, the corpse was blessed.
Gone was the body, but the spirit remained,
A specter in the mist, forever ingrained.
A memory of life—a tale to be told,
In the echoes of time, where stories unfold.
In the depths of the mist, a legacy grew,
Of a life once lived, and the love that it knew.
The funerary hum—a reminder of grace,
As it carried the spirit to a heavenly place.
Tinseled treats, hung from our Christmas tree.
Young, saucered eyes, just gleamed and shined
At the charming, twisting gold and silver art works.
For indeed, these are one of this holiday’s perks!
To a very young child, they whisper of things magical.
Swaying and dancing,they observe from Mother’s clavicle
And though speech, be not theirs, as of yet.
Their artistic sensibilities soar like a fine jet!
Add the scents of frankincense and myrrh,
You will be blessed to hear an infant purr.
Delighting in wonders of the Christmas season.
Every fiber of their being, dances with no reason.
12/2/2024
The anorexia is not conspicuous,
being half-submerged, just
breaking through.
She’s a powdered mirage.
Her skin a hyaline shear
drawn over a necklace
of clavicle bones.
She knows her chest
is returning to childhood,
she wants to shelter there,
to be her own child.
Small breasts bob under
burgundy nipples,
buds made more prominent,
anchored as they are
to shipwrecked ribs.
Designer bling distracts.
Cameras whir, she poses,
one hand on a denuded hip,
not resting there,
but stealthily carrying
an ounce of flesh,
toward a spotlight.
We collude with her,
applaud the way
she decorates a condition.
We all know her emaciated beauty
is a mutual hoodwink.
We know that the closer to death
sexuality becomes,
the more rapacious our appetite,
the more we will wail,
as she slips
through our hungry hands.
An unedifying wodge of a f@ggot’s unlit f@g,
Sat upon the unbitten flesh of his lower lip.
A moonlit spotlight skittered through the skylight,
Drawn down to a randy bastard’s come congealing upon her clit.
The liquid surface of her sherry glass eyes glistened,
Alike a bloodily blotched blade, alight with a crimson sheen.
The blunted blade receding, whence her legs enclosed within,
Like an un-burly butterfly, closing its withered wings.
Frilly flames licked at the lanky tip of a bored bastard’ titular tab,
Somersaulting rivets of smoke swivelled in a dainty plume of perforated performance.
Vivid branches of blotchy blues sat askew upon her ashen flesh,
Against the glossy maroon that marred his wrinkled chest,
The uneven wash of eager flush dawned upon the flesh of his wettened neck.
Vascular roots twined with the pale pink of a rose,
Arose to unfurl from the hollow of his clavicle, up his white throat
Her palms were damp, veins unveiled beneath rancid rot,
Outpoured from her open pores.
Alight with the lilac-blue of ignited night skies,
Mightily reigned by the mid of night.
She had become a mackerel within his make believe,
Nipping at the sea front’s air struggling to breathe.
Gooseflesh rippled across her hollow breast,
Whence he advanced with the gait of his senior state,
Outreaching tobacco stained fingers, to encroach the small of their stiffened peaks, so
The hollow of her breast staggered and sought the stagnant skies.
And where in the repeating retreat of associated countenance
Her eyes crept beneath the bedded covers, in their dissociated acceptance
Perhaps to haps the coarse comfort of the eventide,
Or to suckle the succulent rays of blistering sunlight.
And whence his drawl lulled into the languid pull of slumber,
His lame limbs sought the crease between her breasts.
And whence the moon dimmed, the night-lilac of the sky,
Swallowed the ‘bundant bruising beneath her eyes.
Part 1 -complete-
12/16/21
Still regarded mysteriously
A lot of conspiracy
In the sky, on land and near the sea
Eventually I could clearly see
Thought it'd help, but wasn't what I really need
Silly me
Can't do it foolishly
Has to be done skillfully
If I will succeed
Doing it brilliantly
Having consistency
Not taking it all so literally
Somewhat fidgety
Never lost my dignity
Still displaying chivalry
Another epiphany
Time I do it differently
A change in activity
With an increase of ability
For heavens sake
It will or won't resonate
Here let me demonstrate
Human life continues to perpetuate
Can't get the glory with second place
Worldwide not just in eleven states
There'll always be more than seven snakes
In the grass and nearby metal gates
When at your best or feeling less than great
Another incident
This is becoming a predicament
Because it doesn't always end good for the innocent
Toward your sick games, I'll be no participant
Tool or instrument
Regarding life, getting sick of it
And rather inquisitive
Respect for the complex and primitive
Nothing infinite
Staying articulate
No longer being insolent
Remaining vigilant
Also adaptable
In every direction not just diagonal
Or lateral
Working toward becoming affable
No fantasy this is actual
And factual
At times far too serious or casual
Got to work on more capital
Cautious around anything flammable
Often tactical
And practical
Many of my deeds deemed as admirable
Such talent and wisdom is invaluable
While living among animals
Some of which cannibals
Meanwhile humans think they're magical
With opinions that can be radical
So worried about being fashionable
Remember the easiest bone to break is the clavicle
Just about everything becoming taxable
By those that are tyrannical
The impact is minor or problematical
Influencing those that are fanatical
Done in person or by something mechanical
I told the nurse
I swallowed a snake.
He charted: religious mania.
But I felt her—
three and a half turns
sleeping
just south of the back
of my clavicle.
I called her Vera
then,
full breath
pried me open.
Fire-rising,
slithering:
it was gospel
sliding
down my vertebrae—
a ladder
Jacob had forgotten—
yea and behold though
we came
back for it.
I couldn’t stop laughing.
Or crying.
Or saying
I saw light in the colorless
rooms
outside
understanding.
When I explained, again,
how god comes
in my root,
propels
herself through
my expanded
throat
chakra,
they were furious—
branded me
inpatient,
wrapped my wrists,
ordered more
Thorazine.
They don’t let me
sit cross-legged,
say my mantra
disturbs
the others.
Just between
you and me
this energy wall
crumbling, this crux
of second comings,
this fifth horseman—
is a woman re-forming
initiation:
an apocalypse
finally
worth the animal
salt-sweat
hump
it took to get it
going.
Around my mind a linger of her existence plies, I'm evoked
An expression of joy my face accommodates, simply on this note
A thought of you causes my heart to skip a beat, beautiful like jazz
Not the voodoo though but I still feel locked up like I'm in Alcatraz
A good thing because it aids in appreciating your absence when I'm alone
Missing you hurts more than when I broke my clavicle bone
I love you too much to consciously inflict on you pain
Done it in the past but in His grace, never again
Maybe you the best thing that happened to me, maybe you not
Not to sound cheesy but to complete the rhyme, you are hot
Sometimes having you still seems kind of surreal
Want to experience with you the culture of Brazil
Like the sands of time, my love for you seems endless
Some of my dreams instigates we one day share address
You defined 'love' to me and redefined the essence of life
I'm convinced but I'd wait till time evinces you are my wife
Hitchhiking by blurred station generic
Gypsy Flora slips anonymous, gravel
Grinds her heart of garbage, barbaric
Buried skeleton stirred, further travel
Ticket to Keep It Secret
Scarred in fish guts grubby, harbour
Heaves its putrid out to sea, amnesia
Avails an arbour over bleak macabre
Mutineer hurled ragdoll dumb, seizure
Saline dreams Dali delirium
Draped clock face, Flora's flailing coma
Collides with shore, format felicitous
Ferocious ocean spews sweet soma
Segued fortunate Flora duplicitous
Digs over fingers scratching
Sea sparks zesty spirit, crystal clairvoyant
Clavicle thrummed during tumble turquoise
Touched pitching ceiling, delight buoyant
Blackened flotsam, frivolous foam destroys
Destined to nest content
29th March
Redefined