Long Clench Poems
Long Clench Poems. Below are the most popular long Clench by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clench poems by poem length and keyword.
Feeling a rumbling deep in my gut
I'm not quite sure what that’s all about
as I clench the sphincter in my butt.
Something rank is trying to get out
and based upon my bloated bowel
it's going to succeed; I've no doubt.
I might need to throw in the towel
as past experiences affirm
and yet, I fear its stench could be foul.
An internal pressure makes me squirm
and I’m counting down to the blastoff
when this gassy build-up comes to term.
There is no way I can put this off
and yet, to concede may not be smart
even when it’s disguised, with a cough.
What if it turns out it's not a fart,
but its embarrassing counterpart?
Terza Rima
04,04,2019
quirky tercets poetry contest
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
If my thirst for love, I could quench
my heart would beat in rhythmic sound
and not be saddened, torn in wrench
Happiness would be joy unbound
Hunger to be wanted, sated
if my thirst for love, I could quench.
For eons of time I've waited
Lonely wallflower on a bench
Sorrowful tears, my clothes in drench.
Embers would glow in my heart's fire
if my thirst for love, I could quench.
At last I'd be filled with desire
Where is the one of whom I dream
To his love, I shall ever clench.
I'd search each silvery moonbeam
If my thirst for love, I could quench
......................................
June 4th 2017
Broken Wing's "Q" Form
The second, ten years later,
caught her body less prepared.
Had finger nails been more pared her clench
might well have spared his palms
so close to drawing blood.
Her pelvis did not dilate in that hot steam tub.
Hours of pain through day and night were test
and strain enough to exhaust the parents both.
Was he then induced? He cannot quite remember.
But when no breath was left to push, and she was all but done,
the button was then quickly pushed to summon others to a run,
all scrub-green-gowns with wellingtons
to fill the meagre room.
Just out of sight a scalpel cut,
and cockle forceps clawed him out
as spattered boots slathered blood-red water gore
across the polished vynil floor.
Emotions barely held, like the churn of vomit just withheld,
for her sake, as he saw the bloodied face appear.
No nose, raw gaping flesh exposed,
cleft through his upper jaw.
The room shock silence fell, with frozen eyes
above the medic masks all rigid with surprise.
No scan had seen his cleavered mouth
obscured by sucking thumb.
Proud parades of parent picture-scan
concealed what now in birth struck dumb,
with defect's shock revealed.
As father saw his new birthed child
taken by the nurse a while and cleaned
and breathed like any other,
he searched for words to tell this sight
while needles stitched child's mother.
"There's something wrong,
something right here",
he pointed to his face.
But mother reached her hands outstretched
to becon child to her embrace
and son was laid upon her breast
just like her first had done.
No less of love's adoring gaze
signed love's great test was won
and would endure all testing days
for this beloved son.
The relentless enemy, from a trench,
Wages psychological war.
Against the barrage, your teeth clench
As he fires shots you can't ignore.
You are not good enough; you must do more.
You are inadequate, for sure.
Better yet, don't get up from the floor.
You're bound to fail, simple and pure.
Your foe escalates with a hand grenade -
You are a pathetic case.
No one could ever want you, I'm afraid.
Stay home and hide your face.
Your brutal antagonist now drops a nuke,
And you freeze inside your core.
In this world, you are a freakish fluke.
There's no place for you no more.
Oh, the pernicious, insidious dread -
It's the voice from the trenches in your head.
"Samsara!"
Yelled a young prophet
With one eye and a cane.
His eye was made of tightly bundled,
Tall, wet grass.
His cane the smooth, rounded
Pebbles of a Dakota stream.
His voice was the tinsel thunder of God's,
Like yours and mine
Though with this difference:
There was no more of himself.
The yellowing light of Time,
It's pulsing, churchless transubstantiation
had spun a bright and absorbing bloom within.
He was of Earth and Spirit now.
He had achieved the Great Nothing
that we all beg and sob
And clench at our mother's dress over.
He finished: "Samsara!,"
He shouted from a bodily silence
In a forest on a city block,
"Release their hearts!
For even that is not their own!
As they hear the bird's notes soar,
May they realize love's swinging door!"
He left them then, ignored,
For the trees beyond the sprawl.
The Light beyond the Wall.
Herr Heinrich Schneider and his spouse
Felt the need to wander,
And for once to leave their house
For a land that lay far yonder.
Japan at cherry-blossom time!
No better place than this
Enthralled the German couple’s mind.
The chance they would not miss.
"But what of Spezi", Heidi cried,
"We can’t leave him behind."
"Ach! unser Spezi," Heinrich sighed.
"There’s a way we’ll find."
They gave him anti-rabies shots
And medicines galore.
All that red tape, and lots and lots
Of paper-mountains more.
Off to the orient they flew
With hopeful joy and glee.
Oh what wonders bright and new
Would soon enthral all three?
Imperial palaces they saw
And Fuji’s snow-capped summit,
Ornate gardens stirring awe.
You name it, they had done it.
Immersed in culture and in art
They sensed a certain lack.
And so it was that they took heart
To leave the beaten track.
They hired a car and off they went
To some far-distant by-way.
And many a pleasant hour they spent
Till the dying light of day.
They found a cosy place to rest.
On the price they made a deal.
At last a chance to have a "Fest".
The time came for a meal.
The menu was in Japanese,
As well one might expect.
The waiter clearly meant to please
And bowed with great respect.
Of English, German and of French
He had no scrap of knowledge.
He gave each ear a nervous clench.
No, he’d never been to college.
Herr Schneider felt like sauerkraut
And Heidi felt like veal,
Food of this kind they’d do without
Until another meal.
But Spezi’s hunger would not wait.
Herr Schneider eyed the waiter.
"Wuff, Wuff, our Spezi wants a plate.
For dogs one has to cater."
While they sat there, a full hour passed.
Then the waiter brought some dishes.
The Schneiders ate their strange repast,
Which fell short of their wishes.
It was now time to pay the bill,
Which ran to many a yen.
Both were feeling somewhat ill.
and hardly spoke a word, but then -
Heidi cried "Is Spezi back yet?"
"Wuff wuff" did Heinrich bark.
"Please, waiter, tell us, where’s our pet?
In the kitchen? In the park?
A piece of fur the waiter brought.
Then Heidi’s face went pale.
She had a grim and horrid thought
On seeing Spezi’s tail.
What is the moral of this tale?
Down under be a dingo.
Where e’er you roam you should not fail
To understand the lingo.
I used to move like music,
Aggressive, my trauma speaking volumes.
In recent years I've tried to dance from light,
My divinity, I attempt to exhume.
Still, it's more difficult,
The pain extends through my limbs.
My fists clench and I stomp,
Head circling, the fight against tears I cannot win.
Movement is my fight,
The dragon within the meat suit soars to no end.
Muscles sore and burning orgasmically,
Though no clothes stripped and partner present.
The battles I couldn't win in person,
Wave through my core as I fall to the ground.
Aging not so gracefully,
Moving like an ape in tune with rhythm, unbound.
It comes in my shapes, my dear,
a smile, a frown, a laugh - all fear.
Why disguise confusion, surprise?
The ignorant can hardly fashion lies.
You weren't made
to clench your gut,
to grind your teeth,
or falsely strut,
So pour out your emotions now!
Only then can you see how,
the world connects in linear form,
all things logically devised.
And no being can long evade you,
no thing will keep you long surprised.
Your mind was born to grapple such things,
so shoulder past the paltry stings,
and grasp the challenge by the horns,
and crush it till it weeps and mourns,
and yields to you your rightful fruit.
That's the way for thought to root.
30 May 2018
The roses glisten in the dawn
Their petals wet the air turned cold
You stand there knowing what’s beyond
A truth you never meant to hold
The weight of years hangs on your frame
Your shadow bending with the strain
Though no one ever spoke his name
The earth here knows your deepest pain
The blooms are bright too bold too red
Their perfume sharp too sweet to breathe
You stare remembering what you said
The night you left him here beneath
Your hand extends the petals soft
But thorns remind you where they lead
The sting comes quick your hand aloft
Drips crimson tears the earth will feed
Each drop falls heavy on the ground
A mark that time cannot erase
You hear the silence all around
And feel the garden’s strange embrace
His voice returns it always does
A whisper carried on the breeze
You thought that death could bury us
Our love’s a shadow none can leave
You clench your fists you close your eyes
But still his words curl through the air
The roots beneath seem hypnotized
Their twisted hands pull everywhere
You fall before the grave you made
Your knees against the yielding dirt
Forgive me cracks the prayer you prayed
Your heart laid bare beneath its hurt
The roses bend as if they see
Their blooms aglow with deeper hue
They sway though there’s no wind or plea
And drink the tears you offer too
The morning fades the light recedes
The garden swallows all you gave
And still the roots hold all your deeds
Each secret buried in the grave
I packed a few belongings in
a knapsack, my journey to begin.
When my mother gave me a goodbye kiss,
I never expected Barovia's mist.
But I didn't think to count the cost,
and now I'm all alone and lost.
I wonder if I'm even missed.
It seems I'm stuck in Barovia's mist.
Often, I look deep inside my being,
but this fog always clouds my seeing.
Do I even really exist
as I languish in Barovia's mist?
Frustration and anger grip my soul
as I struggle to maintain control
and clench my seething fist.
I must escape from Barovia's mist.
Every time I collapse in despair,
wishing I could clear the vapor in the air,
I find I can't resist
the dark powers of Barovia's mist.
One day, my senses were strangely jarred.
A white-haired lady drew a Tarokka card.
Who knew that she was in my midst
as I wallowed in Barovia's mist?
Said she, "You don't know what's in store".
(Lady Eva was the name she bore.)
"You must keep trying and persist.
Don't surrender to Barovia's mist.
For, in this land, we never know,
as Castle Ravenloft, above, and we below,
await an unexpected twist,
in the mysterious Barovian mist."