Long Closures Poems
Long Closures Poems. Below are the most popular long Closures by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Closures poems by poem length and keyword.
And when it ends suddenly, unexpectedly,
You start to count.
First on the days, then the hours - then
Just counting until 100
Then
Beginning again.
The dead find their faces
The living count faces
Then most forget
Unless the face has your DNA in it,
But you remember the body bags
Being moved around in the night,
The nurses crying,
The lies being spread,
The excuses,
The obfuscation,
The blundering incompetence
Of bureaucracy and officialdom.
The elderly kept in deathcamps
that used to be nursing homes.
The grinning mayors
And governors.
It’s going away now.
Less and less each day.
It’s going away now
It’s going to a place
Where the living cannot find it
It’s going away now.
And suddenly you are very angry
About the stupid shut-ins and the shut-downs,
The politicization of tragedy.
The muddled and slanted statistics
The ridiculous projections,
The false data.
The contradictions and bluster.
The draconian regulatory and government
Sponsored power grabs.
The gagging and intimidation
Of workers.
The trashing of basic freedoms
People
Jailed,
Fined,
Harassed.
The banning's.
The right to collectively worship denied,
Peaceful protest denied.
Businesses forced into bankruptcy.
The unemployment
The waste.
And destruction.
The sundering of families,
The needless school closures,
The suffering that led
To clinical depression and drug overdoses,
The disdain of those
Who rejected commonsense remedies.
The manipulations
And machinations,
All the willing useful fools
Chorusing together to tread down
Democracy.
The grinning talking heads
Who doctored the news.
The attacks and the cancelling
Of those who begged to differ.
Dissenters labeled conspiracy theorists.
The cover-ups:
Gain of function.
GAIN OF FUNCTION.
The dumb mantra of the ignorant
Demanding we 'follow the science'
But the science was wrong
The scientists lied
They lied.
They all knew
AND THEY LIED!
And I am still counting
In case it returns
And I have a lot more things to count,
Lots more to tally and be made
ACCOUNTABLE.
No one is watching on but you,
Arrested in the familiar and unfamiliar images,
Getting to know the stranger you have been avoiding…
The one that no one understands but yourself…
Who knows how they appear to you?
But they do,
And your heart COLLIDES with several emotions,
Brewing in the soup of your every being,
Listening…tasting…smelling…feeling…seeing,
Crippled and yet whole with the picture before you…
You are seeing your favorite people and your enemies,
The LIES you have told…the ANGER you had with them…
The desire SPUES outwards…
You are now asphyxiated with happiness…
Your favorites are leading you on towards a beautiful, visual memory!
It is so simple,
And yet it is captured in complex detail on this projection in the sky…
SEE ME—cries your heart…shivering…SEE. ME.
The spine tingles to the haunting melody that the dialogue provides…
Your defenses are so low now that you are completely exposed to every memory you have locked up or sold…
They are coming back vividly—in silver and GOLD!
And the blasting fires of coldness can NEVER melt them down!
Softly,
You nod as the projection flickers,
As your all-too-familiars,
Your hobbies…favorite foods, people—falling down the skies like raindrops,
Flow straight into your cold exposure,
WARMING you—it feels so good…
You feel RIGHT…because you are…
Conclusions are merely introductions,
So put on the guts, the blood, the skin…
Underneath it all you are pure beauty within,
Designed to fulfill something greater than you can ever imagine,
Designed to master, though inclined to KILL…
Your purpose is never clearer,
When at the end of the movie—a revelation is forming…FORMING!
Your skull closes like two iron doors,
Closing in all of the closures…all of the unrevealed…
And looking forward—through emotions evermore,
ALWAYS looking forward,
And reflecting upon your new…
FRIEND.
Under the mantle of night, full of hidden meanings,
Where the stars dance their stories in silence,
There lies a world where vocations drown in shadows,
Children with grand dreams, trapped in dusty golden cages,
In the name of egalitarian humanitarianism, they disperse in the cold wind.
Schools, temples of logic and unfeeling iron rules,
Bury geniuses under cloaks of conformity and doubt,
Sacred callings, intoxicated by narrow ignorance,
Begin to perish, bound in invisible chains, under a dark sky,
In an orchestra of silences where the echoes of spirits fade.
Children, who once dreamed of universes untouched by time,
Learn to suffocate their wings of free thought,
Under the weight of the gray everyday and norms devoid of magic,
Their dreams merge with the dust in the old corners of halls,
Where the light of the candle of knowledge struggles to guide.
Under the yoke of the official world, contemplative spirits groan,
Trapped in the web of formalities and mental closures,
Entire universes, swallowed by the black of daily monotony,
Wells of creativity dry up under the sorrow of indifference,
In a world that refuses to see the magic born from within.
Oppression begins in their fragile childhood,
When magnificent ideas turn into painful silences,
Geniuses wasted in vain, like dust on waves of unforgiving time,
In the name of equality, their freedom becomes a shadow,
A distant illusion, lived in a dance of shadows and extinguished dreams.
But in the deep darkness, hidden under layers of routine and oblivion,
There is a light that cannot be extinguished, only temporarily muffled,
In hearts filled with longing for transcendence and pure knowledge,
The song of silent revolt is born, magic revived from the ashes,
For the genius of truth, no matter how oppressed, always returns to the light.
Under the mantle of night, full of hidden meanings,
Where the stars dance their stories in silence,
There lies a world where vocations drown in shadows,
Children with grand dreams, trapped in dusty golden cages,
In the name of egalitarian humanitarianism, they disperse in the cold wind.
Schools, temples of logic and unfeeling iron rules,
Bury geniuses under cloaks of conformity and doubt,
Sacred callings, intoxicated by narrow ignorance,
Begin to perish, bound in invisible chains, under a dark sky,
In an orchestra of silences where the echoes of spirits fade.
Children, who once dreamed of universes untouched by time,
Learn to suffocate their wings of free thought,
Under the weight of the gray everyday and norms devoid of magic,
Their dreams merge with the dust in the old corners of halls,
Where the light of the candle of knowledge struggles to guide.
Under the yoke of the official world, contemplative spirits groan,
Trapped in the web of formalities and mental closures,
Entire universes, swallowed by the black of daily monotony,
Wells of creativity dry up under the sorrow of indifference,
In a world that refuses to see the magic born from within.
Oppression begins in their fragile childhood,
When magnificent ideas turn into painful silences,
Geniuses wasted in vain, like dust on waves of unforgiving time,
In the name of equality, their freedom becomes a shadow,
A distant illusion, lived in a dance of shadows and extinguished dreams.
But in the deep darkness, hidden under layers of routine and oblivion,
There is a light that cannot be extinguished, only temporarily muffled,
In hearts filled with longing for transcendence and pure knowledge,
The song of silent revolt is born, magic revived from the ashes,
For the genius of truth, no matter how oppressed, always returns to the light.
Under the mantle of night, full of hidden meanings,
Where stars dance their stories in silence,
There lies a world where vocations drown in shadows,
Children with grand dreams, trapped in dusty golden cages,
In the name of egalitarian humanism, they disperse in the cold wind.
Schools, temples of logic and unfeeling iron rules,
Bury geniuses under mantles of conformity and doubt,
Sacred callings, intoxicated by narrow ignorance,
Begin to perish, bound in invisible chains, under a dark sky,
In an orchestra of silences where the echoes of spirits fade.
Children, who once dreamed of universes untouched by time,
Learn to suffocate their wings of free thoughts,
Under the weight of the gray everyday and norms devoid of magic,
Their dreams merge with the dust in the old corners of rooms,
Where the light of the candle of knowledge struggles to guide.
Under the yoke of the official world, contemplative spirits groan,
Trapped in the web of formalities and mental closures,
Entire universes, swallowed by the blackness of daily monotony,
Wells of creativity dry up under the sorrow of indifference,
In a world that refuses to see the magic born from within.
Oppression begins in their fragile childhood,
When magnificent ideas turn into painful silences,
Geniuses wasted in vain, like dust on waves of unforgiving time,
In the name of equality, their freedom becomes a shadow,
A distant illusion, lived in a dance of shadows and extinguished dreams.
But in the deep darkness, hidden under layers of routine and forgetfulness,
There is a light that cannot be extinguished, only temporarily muffled,
In hearts filled with longing for transcendence and pure knowledge,
The song of silent revolt is born, magic revived from the ashes,
For the genius of truth, no matter how oppressed, always returns to the light.
I had hoped there would be a 50th class reunion for my class of 67.
Instead, I got word the other day that Aggie High is closing its doors.
For four years, I was taught by some of the finest teachers in America.
For four long years, I filled your library, classrooms, and walked your hallways.
I was challenged and succeeded in math and was greatly inspired by my Biology Classes. I was arrested and captured, moved and mesmerized, by my charismatic History teacher. I even listed on your honor roll and sang in your very respected and talented choir.
I moved away 50 years ago and unfortunately, I have visited you only two or three times since. Just a few months ago, I was privileged to dialogue via telephone with my Art teacher's wife. Perhaps he knew of your coming closure, but he wasn't home to inform me.
O Aggie, I am sadden by the news, but I have come to understand such matters. O Aggie, it's interesting that you have joined a long list of changes and closures in my life. It's also interesting that things I once thought would be history, instead are now current events. Furthermore, it's interesting that, like many of my past acquaintances, I always get little warning.
O Aggie, all things have beginnings and endings, but know this: you have been a launching pad and a gallant educator, rocketing many of us to the stars. What you have instilled in us is forever credited to your account. You have fought a good fight, and your course is near the finish.
My eyes are getting watery Now. So I must cease and desist, lest my proud and tender memories of you get the best of me.
04082017 PS Contest, Paschal Premier, Brian Strand
Partnering with hotels all across the planet.
Cendyn helps so trip organizers can plan it.
Managing data and guest information.
So travelers can plan their best vacation.
Aiding resorts in dozens of nations.
Boosting their online reputations.
Creating great proposals for best perception.
Getting visitors in the hotel guest reception.
Managing displays online of the menus.
From cell phones visitors can peruse.
Guests can easily see what dining to choose.
Relying only on costly paper displays will amuse.
Merging with competition to boost the hotel industry.
Fighting for deals will be a thing of NextGuest history.
Working with resellers like Amadeus.
Delivering the services on behalf of us.
We hear the struggles from COVID closures.
Of hotel employees facing varied exposures.
Our contacts have been wearing many hats.
As we’ve learned from our checkup chats.
We are here to help them weather the storm.
Adjusting our postures and changing our form.
Making changes together to adapt and stay strong.
Collaborating to make the relationships last long.
We are not completely out of the weeds.
But we’ve been cultivating dynamic seeds.
We’ve taken a hit and weathered the pain.
Empathizing the hotel challenges to maintain.
Using the tools to outsmart a global recession.
Helping resort staff handle their role succession.
Reaching customers to get dynamic outcomes.
By collaborating to reel in some profitable sums.
Last year we cried poverty but now we cry for joy.
Helping staff play with the tools as if it’s just a toy.
Innovating for the future and adapting to the fight.
Only success for Cendyn and clients is what’s in sight.
Heat creeps across unsuspecting December
Screech of insects' pitch is matched to previous years
Mirror humidity shimmer doesn't remember
Last Summer a virus spread, inducing freshened fears
Wuhan's worst nightmare went worldwide, disease severe
Several thousand consecutive cases, shameful peak
Our Great Southern Land was not immune
Inbound travel halted, disallowed devastating leak
Early government fumbles, finger pointing ensued
Rapid lock down restrictions lifted by June
State border closures remained in place longer
A flare up occurred in Victoria, quarantine bungle
Vic. locked down, remaining economy grew stronger
Spread of virus in other countries spelt massive trouble
Neighbouring nations flip flopped with indecisive struggle
Spring saw Australia for the most part triumphant
Melbournites wore their masks extra month, assisted
Restrictions eased had little effect on usual daily function
Summer sees us hanging lights as though no Virus existed
Carbon Christmas displays blink brazenly, holiday spots listed
Continent apart from swathes of rampant tragedy
We browse store windows in Season's spirit, unconcerned
Saunter of Aussie camaraderie permeates happily
Disastrous for business, but for lots of folk, a forgotten term
Corona, a refreshing ale once again, smothered cheer returned
1st December 2020
Queensland, Australia
(devastating for many, - despite smug
tone of poem, I am deeply sorry)
by Mark Miller © 06/15/2014
Signs stained white written by twilight's blacken Knight,
Raining silent sights depressants drown the conscience might-
Feeling venereal waves sullen air on standing skin shivers
Ridding stallions frailty of fear scorn folly appears,
Warning scent of scowl substance -
Seeking in cause and effect applies not in this lullaby,
For the mind belongs to it's own song and dance-
Willow trees weep beside the empty fractal houses,
An ethos fills body's soul with a depraved dreadful chorus-
In jostle of moments lined faster a hurried escape from felt hidden disaster,
An alter of one espousing blight of blithely blister-
Sympathetic one of other removes contents in empty pockets,
Seeking aloft allusions in solutions left lied ring-let-
Daemonic cutting deciphered experimentally-
Winding winded two halves distract obvious facts completely,
Attics into Usher's velvet windows asunder lightening's thunder,
Horror's glory retreats toward sisters end read story
Lightening revealing THE frighting fury hour-
Days of three seal homes sickened manner strayed lost honor,
Violins play chimes of melody clocks delay frayed fractured decay-
Answered doors store stealth terror of sores
Whispers in absent scenery closures presents history-
Sickle red sorrow drowned disease roams hallways demented path of jester become,
Pallor color companions eclipses my natures being to be-
Capacity particulars a ghastly gloom
Thus is our dissolution for reservations inside our Mansion of Doom-?
Thoughts of my abuse courageously spirals out of control
No drug in this world can conquer this raw resilience…..
Its ability to conivingly creep up with silence leaves the deepest wounds
The pain is unbearable I have yet to understand this power of a weapon in which wins each torment
Let alone in the utmost cunningly yet destructive way
Im defeated and weakness follows so forth comes embarrassment
How do i lack such intelligence
The approach was Louder than a lions chilled skin roar.
Forgiveness knocks but mercy is not welcomed
No excuses can fulfil comfort towards complete lazy Disappointment……..
Each night brings me to my knees as tears fall heavy like the most powerful minnesota treacherous flooding lakes
Visualizing what surrounds me are only false hope and Broken unpairable glass
Each piece screams such ear reckon evil words verbal abuse
so damaged and runned down that hope is no longer in my dictionary of self motivational fall back techniques I have created for myself
While no one knows the real secret of how my own mind is responsible for unanswered closures or true self healing
Its a simple Commonsense math equation
FLASHBACKS MULTIPLIED BY ABUSE EQUALS DEEP CUTS LEFT WITH BLACK AND BLUE MARKS THAT BRUISED
Taken amongst places far from this limited man built world
I was a new mother being stripped of all my female qualities and told I’m worthless his sloppy seconds was all that I deserved.