Long Closed Poems
Long Closed Poems. Below are the most popular long Closed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Closed poems by poem length and keyword.
If the walls around us could talk
they would have spilled all the beans
what you had done to her last summer
and along with that your many a sin.
If the walls around us could talk
we'd have to arrange an open space I bet
to discuss the minutes of closed door meetings
and to keep those things a top secret.
If the walls around us could talk
so many mysteries would have been solved
how that man was killed in his apartment
and who were the culprits involved.
If the walls around us could talk
perhaps we would have a different history
we might have avoided so many deaths
our progress would have been a different story.
If the walls around me could talk
they would have told me to stop writing
and make some changes in this poem
before its final posting:)
=================000================
Date:13th September 2012
OF ROY AND PINCH BANDITS
Claims Roy one day
to have been approached
by an angel of GOD
alleges the said angel
brought him news
news that he would pass to glory
complete with day and time...
Come the day... Roy
arranges meeting with cece..
.. his beloved siz..
Roy unable to confess..to cece..
the truth.. bout his departure
ROY goes to university next..
bids friends goodbye...
Roy goes to a stall
buys daughter five tuna fish cans..
a parting gift from a loving ROY...
Roy boards shuttle..
Roy sits next to lovely..
very lovely ladies....
Roy never one to let a pretty girl
escape untalked... says hello
girl snobs ROY.. Roy knows his end is near
decides to say last prayers..
asks GOD to send someone .. to deliver
the tuna to daughter..and his love regards
ROY is snatched sudden by deep sleep..
waves and waves of it.. ROY surrenders..
zones out.. awoken by a sharp mosquito bite..
..or is it butterfly.. looks everywhere..
lovely girl gives him a weird look..
shuttle conductor gives him a weirder look..
waves and waves of sleep swallow ROY..
Awoken by sharp bites.. many of them....
wakes.. now every ones.. giving sweet Roy..
very weird looks.. Swallowed by waves again..
bites starts... ROY keeps eyes closed.. twitching..
half asleep half awake.. distance laughs
more bites and more bites..twitching..
shuttle has reached.. ROY surprised he..
he still lives.. ROY tries to alight...
legs give way under him..
steadies himself then walks home..
ROY arrived home minus three cans of tuna..
with huge bumps to prove them biting...
after relating to us the story..
every ones burst... with stitches of laugh..
teasing ROY to death..OH... hes just met
the famous pinch bandits... Oh oh oh..
the pinch bandits
pretty girls they are
they way lay celebrities
who are too exhausted to
open their eyes.. pinch them
pinch them and again pinch mm..
and ROY day was finally come..home
Lewis K Nyaga
0239 eastafrican maritime
I am of Nosferatu sucking out the life force damning it to hell.
I am the bringer of death to the closed mind, the inhibited self.
I am that which is feared and escaped by all with free will.
I am of the race that feeds off the dead in thought and the spiritually ill.
I prey on the assimilated with no minds of their own.
I take and become them as they become my drones.
If you choose to abide and conform to the norm,
You make my job easy to assume your form.
If you choose to assume a ready-made face,
You make my work simple to take your place.
If your life and being fits the usual mold,
To me you have just been bought and sold.
If you follow the old pattern pre-made,
I am your shadow to become your shade.
But if you choose it thus not to be,
Then you choose to thwart and deny me.
When the choices you make are yours alone,
A visit from me you will ever postpone.
When your spirit’s not tethered and let to roam free,
I will never become you and you will never be me.
So if you choose to be self and soul true,
I will never know to replace you.
Why not come out of your shell,
breaking that hermit spell,
where the wallflower sits alone
without any backbone?
Contest the contests
without any further protests.
Find yourself at the end of the pier,
on the sunny side of despair,
casting a line into the belly of the beast,
letting that pent-up jelly on being released.
Your backbone will thank you.
There might even be a bounce in your shoes.
So why not untie the knot?
Because when I connect the dots, I win squat.
Everyone else wins a rose,
I get ... "la de da la de da"...the hose.
I’m tired of being disposed,
so this case (head?) should be closed.
This entry ... "la de da la de da"... was a dash,
But now it has hit the trash.
connie pachecho
12/16/25
The
snow is
falling fast,
raging pure white,
the car is buried.
Winter weather warning,
shut down of public transport,
the power is out and stores closed.
It was one of those winter mornings,
only the neighbours dog was enjoying.
It was a delightful . . . beautiful day,
the sun was shining, flowers blooming,
birds singing sweetly, bees buzzing,
blue butterflies were drifting,
and squirrels were searching.
I felt like dancing,
must rise and shine.
Oh sweet cat,
in the,
sun.
____________________________
March 4, 2016
Poetry/Etheree/It Was On Of Those Mornings
Copyright Protected, ID 16-764-000-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, It Was One Of Those Mornings,
sponsor, Sara Kenrick
Fifth Place
“Too sad,” they say as they turn away
asking if I ever write anything happy
Aren’t poets told to write what they know
present to people pictures
painted with their words
of places most are too afraid to go
Should I censor myself
because it may cause some discomfort
to reveal my reality
the cruelty I’ve been subjected to
from almost the moment I gave my first cry
just after three in the morning
on the twenty third of May over forty years ago
for them to feel for a fleeting moment what I do
after all that I’ve been through
Would they expect me to stifle my screams
if I shattered a bone
had been stabbed in the gut with a dagger
before being thrown in a ditch like rubbish
Would they demand I cover the wound with my hand
concealing my viscera from their sight
as I smile before stumbling home
to tuck it all back inside again stitching it closed
with nothing more than a needle and thread
the same I use to mend the holes in my clothes
by the light cast by a candle stub
all I was ever given to find my way in the dark
the flame flickering from the fickle wind
that constantly changes direction
as I pray to gods I don’t believe in
that it doesn’t die
They speak language of greyness
From birth I determined to live it
Closed in a gray
Gray like a
mouse BoxTown Imagination
taking routes to roads but possibilities
Limited by indoctrination of unreachability holding
a glass of schemas enforced on me strongly
inclined to
drop it semi
accidnentially but more not than so
A few threw at me a couple
Of
discouraging words but I could choose
To
make them my cyanide or
Something else
Some of
Them looking though unaware of
The door opened in front of them
I've grasped the idea of chains more deeply
I'm 'free - er' as if and
Listening to the passing time
I drift
With tranquility as my companion
We all watched the news in disbelief;
Horror stories of death and grief.
We sat in our homes, safe and sound;
All the while, it was coming around.
People just keep asking, "Why?"
Hearing it went global; still we deny.
Places closed- last the schools;
No big deal, if we bend the rules.
When it hit us here local,
Only then did people get vocal.
They say, "It's a lie, it's not real."
When they get it, will they say the same still?
Watch the numbers going up more each day;
Yet, we open up more places, anyway.
We know to get rid- will be no easy task,
Distance, Sanitizing, and wearing a mask.
The "Why's" are not a mystery,
If we look at pandemics in history.
Most of us never would have guessed,
That before technology became the best,
We had another pandemic, much like our death tolls.
Decisions then were not based on upcoming polls.
They fought long and hard, and finally overcame,
The 1918 pandemic that was much the same.
A century has come and gone since when,
Knowledge abundant we didn't have then.
Does not matter anyway, results can be just like,
Yet, daily we watch our case numbers spike.
We know to be rid- will be no easy task,
Distance, Sanitizing, and wearing your mask.
This should not be such a mystery,
If we learn from the pandemics in our history.
Fighting the mask every step of the way along,
Yet, when mandated, they wear them wrong.
"It is hard to breathe, " has been said,
No breathing now that you are dead.
Comfort is a notion not to conceive,
What will it take to make you believe?
This motion is remembered with feelings of pain, strife and anguish,
But why don’t we recall the beauty in which we now relish.
The movement of ‘Black lives matter’ is as tantamount as the rising of the
sun in the morning,
Both are essential, yet they both be overlooked.
The beauty in our diversity is derived from our tenacity,
Unique our color be, yet subtle our strength be perceived,
The alluring aspect is not who we are, but who we have become.
Silenced our voice be alone, even so, they do not want to mess with our
simultaneous tone.
Quiet we be no more, for there is true beauty in we the overlooked.
We have come to be the voices that are now heard, as charming as the
sea unperturbed.
Undisturbed we have Finally come to be, however brethren, ask yourselves
who we truly are.
I BELEVE WE ARE LOST PIECES OF THE SAME PUZZEL,
ALONE WE GO UNNOTICED,
BUT TOGETHER WE BE AS THREATENING AS A CLOSED FIST.
Who will win?
Who versus who is it?
To whomsoever it may concern,
To whatsoever it may deal with,
It remains an everlasting mysterious contest,
Where defeat is a gift,
And win is a misery,
Conflicting thoughts prevail throughout,
A game of egomaniacs,
Play starts nearing no end,
Clash of egoes burn humanity,
All suffocate with in,
Closed door where "I" is the supreme,
Lacks ventilation which makes it a misery,
Wants and desire take the driving seat,
Hardly it finds any exception,
It has become I, Me and Myself,
Can't we surrender these?
Inclusiveness is the law,
Integration comes as a luckdraw,
Togetherness is everything,
Divisiveness is the worst thing,
The greatest battle is fought inside us,
Not for what is right but who is right?
Is it not a real blunder?
Is it safe to invite such thunder?
The Nature has a purpose to achieve,
We are its great archives,
Lets hope and act accordingly,
Where all can live peacefully.