Long Cobwebs Poems
Long Cobwebs Poems. Below are the most popular long Cobwebs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cobwebs poems by poem length and keyword.
Majestic flight sweeps up from lobby sprawl
Mattress padding pink carpet creeps corners
Bannisters ornate in century's old discussions
Omit disclosure of grim history above
Uniform scuff tread flat railed staircase
Stretches ominously into third level dim
Each step taken fades from life the stepper
Cobwebs claim frames of dust dampened portraits
Compressing is staircase from dingy third
Wide shouldered folk hunch, tunnel encroaching
Trapdoor top is a shock to wood tread traveller
Rejoicing of stiffened hinges, solitary sound
Huddled roofspace floods intrepid with doom
Heanous endings leach from panelled attic walls
Slivers of snowdust rays showcase eye sockets
Emptied in skulls committed to fourth floor torture
6th September 2020
The Fourth Floor of Nowhere Poetry Contest
Craig Cornish
and I recall
dad's work shed to this day
the scent of wood and dust in the air
cobwebs in corners and crooks
sun flooding in through windows
his scarred and scored wooden work table
with the countless tin cans of nails and screws
dad working on a new plan
his coffee cup forgotten and ignored
I would bring him flowers
precious dandelions, buttercups and daisies
which he would place in a dirty container of some sort
smiling, he would lift me up to sit beside him
we would ponder his scribbled sketches
oh, the grand ideas he had
I still have those doodles and outlines
and the lazy afternoon would pass
for me and dad
later we would sit on the rusty porch swing
side by side, just swinging
I would hold his hand so tight
like I never wanted to let it go
but, God had a plan
written in the book of destiny
and who am I
to question what is written by God
so, I had to let go
but today, I sure am missing dad
______________________________
March 30, 2020 (Edit April 14, 2013)
Poetry/Free Verse/and I recall
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1240-086-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Submitted to Strand Choice U
sponsor, Brian Strand
Third Place
Where you used to live is now empty
loneliness is beyond a lack of oxygen
your scent lingers as candles ~
a blend of spice and sweetness
you bestow steady impetus day or night...
Chart a course in seas of vagueness,
a murky future, a hazy doubt
I wish time could be reversed
An empty bed fills my empty room,
sorrowful reins, uneasy mind
no rainbow, no colors, just a grey sky...
everything is made out of stone,
upon walls dressed in cobwebs!!
Memories we vowed would last,
vanished in a blink of an eye
This bare space in my heart,
in which you used to live
flooded with sorrow ~
How much I miss and adore you
how you've beautified my world!
suffer no more
i buffer the floor
shiny and new
no longer tiny with no view
no dust particles found on my skin
it feels so the to win once again
this time i gotta make last
i must grow now from mistakes of the past
in my life, bad decisions was my drug of choice
in my strife, solitude and oblivion brainwashed my voice
i had to break free and karate chop the stress
i chose to shake off the cobwebs and clean up my overbearing mess
suffer no longer
i validity is now stronger
happenstance no longer an excuse
i freed myself from the timidity of a recluse
i feel as if i just got paid
i provide planted seeds, and Jesus Provides The Shade
**Cleaners**
~ O.P.E.N ~
Mon-Fri: 7 a.m. to 7 p.m.
Sat: 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.
Sun: Closed
- 7a.m. 7°C -
The key scratches
alongside the knob,
cobwebs capture
every corner of the door.
The cold air thumps
against the windows,
as the lightbulb flickers
morning and night
in the gaps of the ceiling
outside the barely
shut door.
Underneath,
reddish pigment cover
the bricks and the cracked
mortar spews out moss,
releasing all creatures
from its remnants.
Squirming around,
tossing about surrounding
the cigarette bud left
from last winter.
The distant air smells
of cheap store bought coffee
mixed with gasoline.
Above rests a pair of shoes,
tarnished from all the weather,
tangled since last year.
The shoes aged
along with the time
whereas the boy,
since last winter,
dissipated
with the once lit
cigarette,
As white blankets
the grounds,
the embers sparks
rises with the ashes
up the telephone wire,
I barely remember
the time,
that boy
never came back.
Edited (7.18.26):
1.18.17 ~ 2.19.18
We scratched and scrapped and piled it together,
thin as cobwebs, like molted bird feathers,
spread out on the frozen lawn,
a gossamer frosting in early dawn,
a meager, stingy December snow,
hardly enough to foster a glow
from the Christmas lights candycane twirled
about the evergreen swags softly whirled.
A new sled from Santa's gift giving
was mine to enhance childhood living!
Why he did not provide the blizzard--
(He could have called on the North Pole snow wizard!)
we just did not know,
but to work we would go
and make a snow ramp out in the yard
about as thick as a worn playing card.
The rest of the story is not hard to guess;
my dad's in the doghouse, my mom in distress.
That snow ramp was built quite poorly it seems,
engineered from child wishes and misguided dad dreams,
and though for a moment, I thought I would fly,
at least, sitting here, I still have an eye.
Copyright, December 5, 2017
Christmas Rhymes Contest
Kim Rodrigues, Sponsor
Four young boys had a Halloween plot to weave
to disprove the gossip they refused to believe,
rumors about an abandoned haunted house
where a psychotic man murdered his spouse.
They shivered in the dark upon their arrival,
all having second thoughts about their survival.
Upon each child's face, an apprehensive frown
then appeared a lady, blood stains on her gown.
Vampire bats swarmed, trapping them inside
tangled up in cobwebs except for one who cried,
"Quick! Run for your lives. The rumors are true.
I'm locked in a Zombie's jaws! This place is taboo!"
They heard growling voices, then the lady's scream!
Was this a nightmare, all having the same dream?
From fear they'd fainted, bodies found at daybreak.
Four foolish children, dead; their hearts on a stake.
October 9, 2021
Something Spooky 8 to 15 Lines Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
Sun from the window, shines on my grain
My faded patina, now gleaming with pride
Broken and shabby, after years all alone
Once stored in rafters, so lost and afraid
You have dusted my cobwebs, and glued my rails
There was love in your touch...since the day you unveiled
That hiding place in the damp attic gloom
Long days of neglect, days of disgrace
I've been rescued from loneliness of that dark silent space
A remnant of childhood, from your days long ago
You have restored me to life, to be worthy and new
Do you remember the songs, that she hummed to you?
When she rocked you at midnight, under a velvet moon?
While you dusted my bones, and shined my face
Did your memories fall back to that magical place?
Where the world was your oyster, with childhood charms
When you were held to her breast, in soft loving arms?
Sweet nights spent together when the world was kind?
Now the rhythmic thump of my rails on the floor
Will return all those moments, to reflect on once more
You will feel on your face, and I on my grain
Sun's warming shine through the window glass pane
Wherever you are, that old world, or new...
To be home again, is to belong here with you....
__________________________________________________________
Written for Matt Calliri's contest "Speak, Chair, Speak"
The witches finger
When night time falls on Halloween if you`re near the woods don’t linger
For if you stand to long this night you`ll feel the Witches finger.
It`s long and crooked with a pointy nail its skin is rough and grey
It comes alive on Halloween night but dead and black by day.
She wakens up but once a year from her cold and icy tomb
Then she sharpens up her nails and sits upon her broom.
She screams a deathly cackle as she adorns her Witches hat
Then summons from the depths of hell her big black evil cat.
It stretches and it yawns with its mouth so big and fat
Then gobbles up the cobwebs and the spiders from her hat.
With jagged teeth and razor claws and a pair of fiery eyes
It sits upon the Witches knee as they take towards the skies.
The crypt doors they burst open as her finger points the way
She`s hunting for some victims before the break of day.
She`s flying through the night sky with evil in her eye
She’s hunting for lost children as she passes by.
She needs to be replenished with her heart as dark as coal
She’ll put her finger on your chest and steal your mortal soul.
So when you’re trick or treating in your Halloween disguise
Don’t wander in the shadows where the witchy has her eyes.
Don’t go down dark or unlit lanes where children should not be
Stay in the light stay with your friends where you can clearly see.
But when a shadow falls across the moon and you hear the witches scream
Your legs are frozen to the spot and you pray it’s just a dream.
Her dark cloak flutters in the wind her broomstick whooshes by
She has rotten teeth a crooked hat and she only has one eye.
So hold on tight and run for the light and do not be a hinder
Because if she catches up with you you`ll feel the witches finger.
THE END
I've made up my mind.
I'm going to clean out the attic today.
Leaving nothing but cobwebs behind...
Photos of people without names
Car seats -chrome tables - baby rattles
Dented pots and pans
Rubber snakes.
A guitar that never made it past 5th grade.
Silent notes whisper in broken glass tones.
Melodies forever stuck in the clay.
It's all just excess anyway.
Things of past importance.
Scattered into cardboard boxes of chaos.
Of those never remembered and the long forgotten.
To the curb nostalgia will go.
The garbage truck offers a garbled eulogy.
To a couple of strutting crows in the gallery