Long Climactic Poems
Long Climactic Poems. Below are the most popular long Climactic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Climactic poems by poem length and keyword.
To the people of the earth, we convey this greeting.
We are quite anxious for this long-awaited meeting.
Coming in peace, we are your cousins, as once before.
In a few hours, we’ll be reunited once more.
You will recognize us; our appearance you will know.
We see the sun we once shared ten million years ago.
The planet’s orbit remains between Venus and Mars.
History is forgotten, but we remember ours.
Our first arrival was with the great reptiles roaming.
Something happened, and we could not save them from dying.
Your entire world was completely warm and tropical.
This appeared to be the ideal place for our people.
Our interstellar travel made us masters of space.
However, we knew nothing of climate in this place,
or evolution and genetics within our race.
Your planet is in a section of isolation.
It takes many years to reach your civilization.
Our starships would be bringing news from the galaxy.
They would land three or four times in every century.
Your earth was once a constant tropical paradise.
However, climactic changes covered it with ice.
A strange phenomenon caused some harmless mutations.
Some of us were immune. There were no alterations.
This did not kill, or cause destructive physical harm.
It did start to arouse inevitable alarm.
Two separate groups arose over thousands of years.
Suspicion was perpetuated and caused great fears.
Those who did not leave earth sank into barbarism.
Envy, discord, and conflict were caused by the schism.
We had thought the end came for your civilization.
Your first radio signals gave us indication
that your culture has survived all these millennia.
This discovery has given us euphoria.
We see you have made your long ascent from savagery.
We are here to restore the long-lost fraternity.
We have uncovered much since we abandoned the earth.
Now that you are re-discovered, there will be much mirth.
Perpetual tropical climate, we will restore.
You won’t have to withstand freezing winters anymore.
With genetic mutation, there’s no need to endure.
For your offensive, yet harmless plague, we have a cure.
For what is now wrong, we have the power to make right.
Only let us know how many of you are still white.
Based on the short story "Reunion" by the late Arthur C. Clarke
Let’s be honest, I’m not that honest.
Be honest,
Just this once.
Forget all the dilutions of grandeur,
The noise.
Eat it so hard in the teeth that your mouth has a voice.
Unclench your tongue just long enough to choke on your words…
Then swallow your words,
They were never your word.
Just like it was never a case of, “she isn’t the other half of me”. Rational thoughts of that nature that tried to tie emotion to logic were as implausible as the idea that I had any idea in the first place.
It’s a philosophy contingent on empirically knowing that even the most limited of vocabularies can stutter words, reliant on misspelled synonyms that do more justice to a mind clumsy-drunk on love than any perfectionists wet dream of punctuation ever would.
It’s supposed to be messy.
Nights of trying to read the label on prescriptions through empty bottles gave self-induced illiteracy a formal introduction to Benzodiazepines.
See, attempts at dreams of you leave me isolated with feelings of resentment and distain in times of consciousness for nothing more than a lack of sleep.
Insomnia,
A new form of self-deprivation,
A therapy of sorts.
Wearing my “oh so apparent” membership card of bloodshot eyes and shaky hands with pride I’ve developed pipe dreams of time spent with the pillow in a utopia of…you.
I called you Benzo.
The irony is, the only provocation of panic that can get my mind racing fast enough to keep stride with the heart palpitations induced by you saying some other guy’s name is when you say mine.
The type of sickness I only experience when my mind decides to throw out the jury.
Anti-climactic, like her not being home when you knock on the door ready to recite a speech you wrote to explain how words aren’t enough anymore.
Standing there pledging allegiance to silence because the color of words has and always will be too dull to complete our portrait of perfection.
You keep your smiles guarded, with reason. All the more reason that I know I earned every last one, and the last one I got made me realize sometimes you got to burn it to the ground at a moment’s notice.
A flat line to a punch line, silence drowned out the noise…
There is a limit I can be pushed to
If driven to it, could I kill ?
Last night I found out
As I was undressing
I felt I was being focused upon
The intruder's cold stares froze me in terror
My heart threatening to pound right out of my chest
We both stood deathly still surveying each other
The battle lines were drawn
I felt like a lion cub about to hunt his first gazelle
It was Man against Cockroach
The beast was hoping to make it to the safe refuge under the bed
If he succeeded, Chances were slim
Suddenly, he made a dash for it
I lunged for the closest weaponry, a sneaker
But he expertly dodged and swerved
On my second strike I connected
He was trapped within the grooves of the sole
I could sense if I moved the shoe, he would dart out and be forever lost
There was only one option - Chemical Warfare
I ran out into the hallway
And grabbed a can of ant spray
I marched in and began to plan my next move
I circled the shoe a few times, evaluating the best angle to approach
Strategy was key and I did not want to rush into it
Once decided, I took aim
With a deep breath I quickly lifted the shoe and started spraying wildly
But the wily bugger was quicker than I anticipated
He zipped out and managed to make it to the bed
But just as he disappeared, I nailed him with a squirt between the wings
Wounded and disoriented, I hoped he would now be an easy hunt
I hurled the bed aside and he was cowering besides a dumbbell
We knew these were the climactic seconds of the battle
He made one last brave but feeble run for it
I unleashed the pesticide with adrenalin induced Herculean strength
The departed was lying belly up in a pool of poison
The duel was over
I used half a roll of paper towel to lift his remains
And carried them at arms length to the trash
The other half to scrub the floor, in true Lady Macbeth fashion
Till the stain and smell were gone
"My Rationalization fails to transmute this event into something positive"
A few drops dribbled down the eyes
As she opened them after a deep slumber
of almost 8 hours to be exact.
and the water from the tap did little
to clear the dust and stop the on-flow
as it kept coming down her cheeks.
The memory of the current dream resolved
all the guilty conscience and too many words would be
too little to say to store this series of thought.
Whenever she woke at this early hour, she would go
get the papers from her grand-Daddy's room,
recollects she, as she looks into the mirror.
There, he is lying in his bed, where I lay now,
and how strange that he should be there, when I know
he's gone. Yet, there he is, and I walk into his room
and I ask him the question in mind,
"You really haven't gone, na?", says I to which he replies,
"Not yet, dear, not yet, but I will I feel it........
.....but I am here now, to tell you to work hard,
and don't worry or be sad for me, it is just to happen.
Your end's too far. I've worked my best out of all that
I've got, now is your time to learn, so don't think of
anything you couldn't do for me which is the first human thought
after a death, instead think of all that I taught......
.....now I'll get my peace and we'll meet soon." And I stood there,
wondering which words to pick, and I didn't want to commit the last
mistake, so I told him what I couldn't then, "Daddy, I was sorry I couldn't
look into your eyes, and I didn't even get to hug you or kiss you
goodbye.", I grabbed my last chance this time as I hugged and kissed him,
and let him lie there in peace, I went away and so did that dream.
So, we'll meet, let's not worry, thought she
and got the papers from outside, taking it into
her grandfather's room where they always were.
She switched on the T.V. and got onto the bed,
now a little comfort she found, just in the
eyes and the smile she embraced.
5/16/22
Here let me paint you a drawing
My skin crawling
Something stirring and calling
As the leaves begin falling
It's appalling
That people are always squabbling
And gossiping
Yet another mauling
It's no longer enthralling
The temperature of the water freezing or scalding
People aging, greying and balding
This process has no halting
Most spills their guts like a geyser
Life's a , but I like her
With every fiber
Many think they're the , but they need a diaper
I got the job done with or without a screwdriver
Close and far from barbwire
While occasionally sipping hard cider
Or Budweiser
I'm no liar
Or one to preach to the choir
Nearby a campfire
And 4 car tires
I stood with a Rottweiler
Feeling lazy or hyper
Harmless like a Sandpiper
Damgerous like a Pit Viper
Harmless like all these ass wipers
Dangerous like a sniper
Harmless like a Striper
Dangerous like a Tiger
Harmless like the town crier
Dangerous like a Black Widow or Red-Back spider
Harmless like always being nicer
Dangerous like the edge of a pizza slicer
It's time for the next shock
Most thought they could fix it with a pep talk
Meanwhile close by flew a red hawk
Before I decided to jet off
Dealt with pests lots, put them in a headlock
Then they came to a dead stop
Nearby the bedrock
It's revolting
Far too much overindulging
And information withholding
Dangerous like exposure to molding
In all directions it's pulling
I'm still mulling
Meanwhile they continue at lulling
So that they are the ones controlling
In pitch blackness
Full of sadness
Reaching a state of madness
The pattern becoming erratic
It's nearly always tragic
With endless havoc
I almost had it
And went bat
But I partook in Black Magic
In a basement as well as an attic
In the end the outcome was anti-climactic
She wanted to go back
to the place that expelled her-
Octopode ink on a birth certificate.
Black smoke, not blue,
Dark smatter hid from view
Pale pink sunrise
Baby blue skies...
It rained the day she cried,
newborn, still womb warm.
Instinct to live no option.
No yes and no gut feeling reply.
She needs to go back
to the genesis of needs and wants,
the whole body experience
takes up space in the air
we breathe without a care.
Approval sidelined in attachment style
ghosts the childlike grab and clutch.
Love not cut from cuddle cloth.
As years sidled by, she realized
this was all it was afterall-
her life wrapped up in swaddle
soft as spider's silk.
Organic web of sticky lies
held tricky truths stuck
firmly in disguise.
It's become time to cut the chords that bind.
Engine heart thuds in the hull,
Picks up pace, sounds push survival surge,
Mindful design is on the move.
Doused in drowze, piled up permafrost
covers, smothers, preserves, impacts
a heart petrified by spider's bite.
There is no future being hidden
from her own blinded sight.
It still rains on and off-
cloud cover in between climactic chaos
and sometimes normal weather.
Patterns of desperate needs uncover
pros and cons divide each other.
The emptied womb is no longer
a warm and welcoming vessel.
Gone forever, what's over are leftovers
not fit to feed future expansion.
She commands her craft to unberth-
Driving force a desire to disconnect
from dissonance docked in moving goalposts.
Truth breaks the trauma bond, false hopes.
There's no future in future faking.
The present is full of deliberation.
It's truly now,
or truly never.
The past is not on her horizon forever.
Posted December 31, 2023.
Lives meander through the zigzag bend
Everything was hinting an inevitable end
Leaving all those distinct permanent scars, behind
Only to find
I lost my peace, with this haunting ease, that disturbs the tranquil mind.
A well- crafted climactic moment
You uttered the words what you meant
And life felt as half measurable half badly spent
Or perhaps
I observed this pacing rapidly happening, just as the strongest opponent.
A well-versed lyrical poem
I expedited the farewell, to a fading name
And got stuck in the middle of lost love and shame
Only to decipher….
Once a precious life is unfolding strife in this final cruel endgame.
A long forsaken dream
A toxic influx also dream for a heavenly downstream
As nature does not allow inhumanity, and hope is flickering faintly, too dim
Only for hope
Life must go on, in a graceful tone, beyond afflictions, coping with a dream.
A long lost love affair
I came back to a piece of blank paper
I, and morning, or both, will pass through the pain and we do care
For an emerging world tomorrow
to beam with a smile, to stay for a long while, with colors, blossoming there.
Longing for a new morn
Will lead us there, in this global sphere, to a heartbeat, newborn
I, and my sorrow, will sing a song to greet life, onboard, again
As I have a promise made to the dawn
To keep on trying without crying, keep on smiling through the pain
And I bid you farewell today.
I wish you all the best, through all my dismay.
As I saw you there, you did also care the other day, to stay.
Let the light at the end of the tunnel.
Beacon to you, show the hopeful way through. It would not trick us into betray.
.
Allow me to confess how gratifying it is
To see the rainfall of lights permeate through your eyes,
Swirling lightening warmth into my own
To see your thoughtful lips curve into a summer's beam
We energize each other as our words fall like playful spring petals,
Expressing our hearts' joys without grievance or complaint
But with genuine feeling and mutual delight
Fastened tight with love's newfound might
Artistic minds mix, dispersing colors others barely fathom
Upon the surface of their distracted rights,
Their distant autumnal attentions
Instead we dream, diligent of and in each other
Reflective of a world that snows and blizzards
Aware of the audience - the stars - that cry with glee in every climactic scene
We rise
For the sake of simply touching them
Every heart that means to listen
To such precious overtones
The subtle and soft notes below and above the melody
That make magic real,
And the darkest souls hopeful
I love to just watch you smile,
To take in every glimmering feeling
As they pass like seasons from dawn to sunset
Our feelings change
Our tunes build upon the ever growing masterpiece
That is our very existence,
Our union and our uprising of all that is life
I love to trace the silhouette of your grace,
To paint sounds and syllables where your eyes will accept them
To embrace you with an assuring memory to hold forever
We need not worry,
For the melody of this beautiful life has long waited
For the sustaining and blooming accompaniment
That we master, savor, and make better
My friend, my life,
From dawn to dusk,
And every trying night
These overtones will resonate our legacy for all time
Who is he and why does he pursue me?
This creature of the night emerging through the trees,
sealing me with his lips
Why do these unknown lips comfort my feeble mind?
Spoken words seem fruitless as we run-
barefoot and mad, tearing the beaches until we are torn from this horrid reality
Is he real?
Entwined, we share poetic thoughts and I find darkness within him
This unknown-he stirs my sizzled mind
I sense the source of my needs through him
He leads me as we lurk through the depths of the desert floor
Amidst the snakes and sinister serpents he speaks of Death with ease
How it warms him as do the rays from the glancing sun
Wait, where did he go?
Inner voices send him yonder, searching for the vast unknown to which only he eerily belongs
Through the heart of the Indian's eye he sees in own pain bathing from within-a need for release
I dare to peer closer
Is he in a trance?
What is he?
Out jump pupils black as night and wide as the wingspan of a vulture encircling his prey
Why do I feel at ease?
He begins to croon and I am forgotten
His perverse escape of the mouth stings me and lingers
I feel his climactic release
Finally, we become one
Why am I quivering if I am not in fear?
What is this other side where tangible existence is faltered?
Why did he bring me here?
Am I drowning?
He has eradicated my young mind-
permanently
I escape sweetly from torment and become taken
Bare, we become lost to the chants, the
violent shrieking laugh of the mad
Who am I now?
He brought me here to this fall to a splattered whole-a fall perhaps too much awaited
Finally, we drown together
Our souls-completely submerged
In a world where we are constantly told how we should do this and that,
we must learn to thank them for their opinions…but, to listen to our own
hearts and THINK for ourselves.
There is a difference between guidance & being told what to do; where
opinions are sometimes, sadly, just glorified pre-judgments in hiding. In this
world today, more than ever, we must stand our ground and water our seeds
with our own heartbeats.
Because in the time one could spend listening to loud/louder/loudest opinions
of why one should or shouldn’t do it someone else's way, one could have
already done it their own way. Always move in the direction of time:
Forward
...
Another herd of evaporated soliloquies
Flashing warning signs of good-will
Unto the lost
The deaf
The mute
The righteously blind
They simply ask for a sip of strenuous cognac
To lighten regurgitated burdens
Yet, throats become condensed with
Good intentions
Under a cratered moon, afflicted with two-faced vertigo
How can one stand in the face of adversity
When our legs are kicked from the same foundations
That opinion’s high court built
How can I be told to write with syllabic serenity
When a rambunctious rhyme
Would be the socialized death of me
“Guided” by educated parchments, recycled without signatures
…
If poetry is freedom,
Why do critics scream in beer-battered rings of opulent contradictions?
If poetry is freedom,
How is one frowned upon for speaking the word of Life, the word of God
The same God who told us to speak upon epiphanies’ climactic pain
Towards the same “heaven”,
They swear,
They’ll arrive at.
©Drake J. Eszes