Long Cloying Poems
Long Cloying Poems. Below are the most popular long Cloying by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cloying poems by poem length and keyword.
Nothing gets worse.
Other people.
They try to wrap me in a blanket.
I was cold.
It’s all thawing, and feels feverish and horrible.
They learned things.
Lessons which are dedicated to kindness.
Are cloying.
It hurts my lungs.
Coughing and trying to laugh through the coughing.
Eyes watering.
My eyes, their eyes, horrible eyes.
Acceptance has clawed through the world.
As I claw up farther while rocks slip from under my feet.
They accept me.
From up above.
Nothing gets worse.
I just climb higher.
So do they.
Nothing gets worse.
Then I fell.
They said “Acceptance.”
Just not for me.
Have you heard the Panther’s roar?
A sickly sweet odor.
He traps his prey in his paws,
devours them with beastly jaws.
Have you heard the Panther’s roar?
Lures his prey to the fore,
feasts fiendishly with gusto
as the dying beasts bellow.
Have you heard the Panther’s roar?
Three torpid days, he’ll snore.
Appetite he can’t sate.
Constant hunger is his fate.
Have you heard the Panther’s roar?
Cursed to his center core,
He desires the Demon Dragon
who resists his cloying beckon.
Have you heard the Panther’s roar?
He requires so much more.
Dragon eludes him despite his feat.
He’ll never taste the other white meat.
NOTE: To those curious enough to read on...this poem is the expanded version of 'Panther', a winning placement in Julia Ward's Panther (legendary creature) Poetry Contest. Thank you Julia, for stimulating my mind and inspiring my writing. laf
Dooo, dooo, daaaaaaaa.
This song is about being yourself!
Ohhh, Woahhh…
You can’t be yourself if you…
Hold onto something, or some blade of grass, or your left shoe…
Falling into the lake, lake, lake…
Songs can stop abruptly.
Or they can reach out of the radio and kill you.
The radio will tell you to stop noticing.
That they play this song once every 43 minutes.
And it’s cloying, and clawing through the drive home.
Listen up.
This song is about packing your bags.
Your mom, sister, and friends.
There’s no one out there.
They wouldn’t throw you a liferaft that could save your life.
He really thinks so.
Songs can make some sort of imprint, somehow.
When you hear a song too many times, it becomes like an empty plate.
That had crumbs, but then I ate the crumbs, so everything’s even more empty, but still needs to be washed and dried.
Being yourself is…
Trusting yourself is…
Maybe it’s easier to just listen to this song.
I have to drive for another 12 hours, anyway.
If my mom texted me now.
I wouldn’t answer because I’m driving.
But even if I wasn’t…
Listen up.
This song is about how you, yourself, a person who is you.
Ruined your own life.
Ohhhh, Woahhhh.
I arrived at my destination 34 hours later.
My Video Song " SUMMER DAYS ARE COMING' can be heard on my Music Channel URL
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cafa5Sc6dPo
The Song has received Semi Finalist Award declared
on 5th Sept. 2013. Although it's lyrics has missed the Ist
prize by only very few steps but the Award can be seen on
http://songwriting.songoftheyear.com/ravindrakapoor.html
Summer days are coming
To take you in my arms
In summer nights, we shall be
Singing our love songs.
When the Moonlight would rise
The sleeping waves of Sea
And your sweet arms would be
Encircling me close to thee.
Summer days are coming
To take you in my arms
In Summer nights, we shall be
Singing our love songs.
I know why you watch
The Sea waves rising to kiss
When the Moon began to pour
Its love drops on the Sea.
Watching the joy of Sea waves
You always come in mood
And then like the rainy clouds
You shower your love on me.
Summer days are coming
To take you in my arms
In summer nights, we shall be
Singing our love songs.
O’ Darling I am waiting
For the Summer days to come
As in summer days you shower
Your rain like love on me.
Summer days are coming
To take you in my arms
In summer nights, we would be
Singing our love songs.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 07th September 2013
NOTE: This song was written in May June and was submitted
to Song of the Year USA for an INTERNATIONAL CONTEST.
Protected under the copyright provisions of Poetry Soup and
You Tube. Cloying this Song or reproducing it in any other form
or manner is strictly prohibited.
Kanpur India 7th Sept. 2013
He was outside of life
Alone and floating in the void
But not in some beautiful or ethereal way
Not in some way that elevated him to the casts of godhood or seams of men that walked the earth with faces of iron and dresses of gold
Instead it was some wretched, lonely way
A creature cast into the void, not elevated by the hand of the great one
He was not beyond, but instead outside the music of creation
Intertwined with nothing, yet a spectator of the seams of silver and life and water and flesh that the peoples who were not retched were more than entitled to
But it was not for him. Not by meaning nor design. Soft dew of mist was but a cloying fog, and eloping bark of trees was but plastic. But even cloying fog and hard plastic felt as if he were not entitled to them
I stress once more. He belonged to nothing. In the loneliest of ways such that the feeling of loneliness rejected of him his spirit, and he was left only with his rotten flesh
And so he would indulge in the flesh
To fill his stomach. To flood his brain. To drip from his eyes. A sinking ship, forever to not reach the sand of the bottom of the sea but to find some in-contempt contentment in the smothering of dark water
I knew you were gone.
In the startled-now of a wide-eyed night---I knew,
though you were beside me all along,
I sensed.
A cloying doubt,
a premonition of you missing
fastened tender gums to my pulse.
I knew we would no longer
teach flesh to speak,
knew down and deep
even though that thought
struck me dumb.
A space opened, I saw it
from the bottom of a dark stairwell.
I saw you leaving in the closing evening
of a memory.
I remember when my mother died
I held the phone away from my ear
listening to the nurse run through
her rehearsed lines,
and I feeling a strained tendon
finally snapping. I knew then
that 'gone' meant gone away
to a place where hands are
blind owls.
Now laying here in the dark,
god knows how many years away
from our last touch
I know my `once upon a time'
has again stepped through a door
in my mind
that always leads to nowhere.
Enchanted was I with a cloying scent...
whiffs of wild magnolia
mingled with the woodsy tang
of lemon verbena perfuming the air
Like Samson's strength, the sun's threads of gold
were clipped by silver shears
of an ascending pearlescent moon
How sweet the bloom of love ~
We slowly walked around the lake
By the zenith of eventide
serenaded by a cicada symphony
in rhythmic allegro thrum...
In the distance, the howling of a feral creature
crying with need of a mate
How wild the passion of love ~
She tensed at his wailing call
soothed with murmurs and kisses
Her heartbeat in sync with my own...
tympani drums keeping time
like the pendulum of a metronome
How musical the lyrics of love ~
Her eyes met mine...
mirroring myriads of sparkling stars
gleaming as bright as a prismed diamond
I would pledge my troth tonight...
Here, beneath a celestial bower
How heavenly the gift of love ~
A tendril of long wavy hair
blew across her cheek
I crimped it around my finger
then released a raven curl
My lips whispered softly...
I bent to her like a willow to the shore
How eager the need of love ~
When I knelt
she trembled at my intent...
Bodies clinging, we swam fathoms deep
surrendering to each other as eternal lovers
passionately torrid... reverently tender
How plumb the depth of love ~
Joy dances in even to the bereft
She cracks my frown with a tango
Then she leaves my house swept
Joy is a hummingbird trapped indoors
Her iridescence lights up all my grime
Usher her out before I’m enamored
But, happiness is like fish overstayed
His cloying perfume overpowered
He is a rhino to her phoenix raised
Sometimes joy is an elephant
Hiding under a tablecloth snickering
She exits invisibly like an ant
Sometimes she’s Mary Poppins waltzing
Scrubbing a spot that I cannot dirty
Sprinkling a spoon full of sugar on salt
A lifetime of joy waltzing in wears me out
Then happiness retires to a piece of furniture
I’ll give her a ticket to dance and not pout
Someday when I am old and feeble
Too tired of laying ashes down
I’ll let joy lift my frown with needles
I’ll let her cat sit on my lap untamed
When I’m too demented to sully joy
I’ll let joy feast upon my remains
Till then I’ll leave the door ajar
** Luke 12:36
"Be like men who are waiting for their master when he returns from the wedding feast, so that they may immediately open the door to him when he comes and knocks."
Three knocks upon the door – who goes there?
It is I, your heart!
Oh, well, I didn’t expect you back so soon …
But come, take a seat, warm yourself by the fire.
God knows it is frigid beyond these walls.
The heart clasps cold hands before the flame,
And looks at me with guilty eye –
I didn’t mean to intrude upon you yet again;
I thought this time might be different, but –
Hush now! I know it is a dream so sweet,
But within these walls you have oft stayed,
And you can be safe; kick up your feet,
My friend. Tis somewhat bitter to have you back
Beneath my control.
Yet … it has oft been this way, and there is comfort in that.
A savage pleasure, an arrogant sneer, a cloying power.
You are mine – not hers – you understand?
And a tear falls from his guilty eye, but he does not move away.
15 October 2019
Written for "Give Me Your Best New Poem" contest sponsored by Emile Pinet
My God, why are you so quiet to your child?
You are noisy as trucks rumbling by remote
I see you in the terrors of the night glowing
I taste you in the night cloying in my throat
I feel you down to my restless legs waking
I know you as a child knows his father
Coddled children never learn to walk
You left me in the care of parents who leave
But, didn’t you abandon me just to gawk?
Still, you've never left me though I bereave
My immature mind reaches out to you
You are the quiet voice in my cries shaken
You remind me that to talk I must listen
You remind me to feel I must ache
To see I must know your pure omission
You show me the broken pieces rebuilding
In the dead of night, I feel your lovely floor
Can I embrace myself within your cold tomb?
Your son leaves the frame of a blackened door
Your silence rushes in noisy as a womb
You remind me you are light and darkness
You are my true parent asking me to rise
Again and again without a hand to hold
Without a guide, you show me who is wise
You ask me to be my parent as Jesus toiled
You promise me rest when night comes
When hands grow cold and there's nothing to do
You are a father that never grows old
Then a door opens for me to hobbled though
Will you greet me when senses are unconsoled?
Your quiet and darkness are a play of stillness
You are faith and doubt when senses are unsteady
Grant me your everlasting maturity in your plan
I promise to rise when I’m good and ready
I promise not to cry like a child, but a man
****
Isaiah 46:9-10
Remember the former things, those of long ago; I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me. I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say: My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please.