Long Coffin Poems
Long Coffin Poems. Below are the most popular long Coffin by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Coffin poems by poem length and keyword.
ICE NINE
The sourceling of anti-matter,
morphed in, a slithering form.
From Darkness's anteroom chamber-
The wormhole, in escape-
The place where disobedience was born.
A
S
p
i
r
a
l
staircase, passage-
from Satan's spawning floor.
The full embrace of the fall, from grace-
Leading to a pit, a chasm within,
a vacuous sore.....
(The Abyss)
An Epitaph to Hopes Epiphany,
suffocation of man's denial.
Viper's soliloquy on Life's Headstone-
singing Hade's Reprisal.
The Manacle Frost seeped in, absolute,
in a stigma of waves.
Grasping, ill repute,
adorning its crystal plague.
Sculpting a stoic coffin,
for the Deads Winter.
Thematic serum, preserving decay,
reserving sinners -to it's chaotic
pain of spread-eagle splay.
Delivering retribution of hydrous tentacles-
A black mosaic, sadistic, iced anti-miracles.
What once were flowing streams,
now, solid, cataracts, in the shade of heresy.
Clogged arteries,
unstirring unto Death's Trident.
Neptune's chill, unforgiving, arrant.
Blood rigid, arresting the heart of Heretics.
A frozen mirror casts justice's like image,
reflecting back from the Abyss.
Unrelenting, this visage, to the fiends,
strewn about the thick of it.
Icy fangs sink in their eternal repress.
Yes.
The Sickle of Death's Angel.
The Fog of Hade's Breath.
No pain; no gain regret the lies we've told,
under achieved where does it stop when
two people care.
A figment of speech recalled it's
seven dwarfs; and a fairytale now
composed an evil step-mother to
poison her......
As the shiny- red apple drops before
her feet; I will have detained the
princess before her glass coffin to
sleep with in her tomb....
Mean-While Half way across the meadows
another princess awaits her prince uncertain
where her path leads, she under goes A curse
that was casted upon her at sweet sixteen.
Only to have followed that path to her
dungeon to be captivated by A spinning-
wheel where she pricked her finger and
fell fast asleep.... Once again....
Now they both lye here in desperation
awaiting thier prince to break the spell
that put them there as a true loves kiss
awakens them.
where I find happily ever after becomes
over-rated..........
The shock that I felt was enormous,
as the tab on the cat food I pulled,
a fountain of biscuits shot out of the top-
the box, it was actually full !
I stood, disbelieving, bewildered,
this never had happened before,
I finally came to my senses again
and swept all the bits off the floor.
'Contents are liable to settle',
I've seen it on loads of foodstuffs,
in some cereals, where half of it is fresh air
and what's left is just not quite enough.
And bags of crisps, don't get me started,
whatever the flavour or range,
seven flakes, powdered crumbs
which just coat both your thumbs
and then leave your tongue feeling short-changed.
Forgive me, for always believing
(and I think most folks do, by and large)
that the air we breathe in now and always has been
since the dawn of mankind, free of charge.
So why do the makers of products
include something already free?
Just give us lots more of the thing I paid for
and leave all the breathing to me.
And when my time one day is over
and no longer am in fine fettle,
the box I'm carried off in,
on the lid of the coffin
write ' contents are liable to settle'.
Foremost On My Bucket List?
Yo yo ma...though your absence
doth suddenly cause me woe,
no matter parting with
many bittersweet sorrows
long since consciousness unstrung
more'n fourteen plus years ago,
the last surviving Kuritsky
grim reaper enviously eventually snatched,
outliving demise of my Uncle Paul,
your once favorite sibling and only bro
tis grief that rankles, shackles, torments...,
thus caw zing such poetic twittering I crow
yea, this sole son bare knuckles
scraping along without dough
suddenly riven with mortal anguish -
worse fate than death - or bloated ego
willpower to live life to the max
hardened ice floe
despite promising futures
regarding thee deux daughters
that doth find me to glow
my spirit analogous to santa
deprived of his cheery, hearty
guffawing, and merry ho ho ho
yours truly seems condemned
to suffer, a worse fate
than freezing during whiteout
blizzard conditions barring
access to igloo,
brutally cold as Jupiter's Io
spirit felled by juggernaut, no
joking hence I don't feel Jew
bull, ah if yours truly knew
thee torturous emotional state threw
out every fiber upon
last fading memory...of you
unfairly condemned to suffer,
yes my lack of loo
cre immaterial, whence death
stole thee to realm afterlife queue
no doubt, a welcome reprieve aye rue
versus less cruel fate,
viz prolonged illness
comeuppance impales me
body, mind and askew
being pitched, where
adventurousness gungho fear slew,
feeling buzz with aliveness
(akin to David and Goliath)
unable to shake melancholy blue
nostalgic for underworld view
where cessation will find me
inaudibly coffin with a whew!
I still sit upon the window looking on
Into nothingness and void all forlorn
I can't begin to even try to believe
That i won't ever hear you sing or jive
Everything that shone with your exquisite care
With you gone they seemed rusty and bare
Sometimes it feels like you never left
And I call out to hear my own heart cleft
Like Itachi I'm stuck at a crossroads wondering where
To go to the right where nothing's there
Or is it left where nothing's right
I wish you could scold me once again
And tell me not to talk so plain
I wish I could see you again
Your buddy here Ole Mclean
I mean I can't explain how good he was
Not perfect of course he had his flaws
Funniest part he didn't hide any of them
He argued after all he was from the system
He made me laugh and made me cry
With terrible jokes but many a pie
He was illiterate but made sure I read
At least three pages as I got up from bed
he always said I regret nothing
I've lived my life and seen my coffin
When no one else could take my side
He was for me my Nemean hide
He always said I believe in your dreams
Together we'll watch it flow like streams
I'd give anything to see you again
Your buddy here Ole Mclean
Momento Mori
Remember you must die
We must walk thru the valley of the skulls
You can get there by using the proper tools
Everlasting life is for the fools
Old age can't be defied
The grim reaper can't be denied
He's waiting on the other side
Knock on the door and he will reply
Sometimes it up to you to decide
Skin will wrinkle, hair will turn gray
Better pray
We are not here to stay
We will need a walker and a beta blocker
Hopefully we don't have a heart stopper
Momento Mori
Remember you must die
Bones will become fragile and break with ease
Trying to avoid getting a disease
Just waiting for a permanent release
From this painful existence that we call life
Have had a heart attack not once but twice
We are just waiting to rot in the ground
Nothing but dirt that's all around
Silence will be that horrific sound
Momento Mori
Remember you must die
In the coffin we must lie
No need to cry
We need to be set free in able to fly!
Form:
#No_matter_how_hard_I_try;
No matter how hard I try, beyond levels of my abilities where I stretch to reach. No matter how strong I force to be, even when the capacity of my strength have emptied. When bearing no more, being the only way out but the mattering pulse in me, still starring in the hopeless dark for a miracle
Obstacles, so huge beyond my tiny body capacity, paramounting impossibilities, beyond my age and height digestion. When my whole body just wanna shutdown, when there's just nothing in my human tactic and ability sack, when there's just nothing to put in place, this world leaking just everywhere, when my only two hands and legs are just not enough anymore, for the load has no bearings and all the errands are just way too important and urgent
When I'm all drained and dried up from all possible ways, when everything is just way too heavy, too strong, too beyond. When there's just nothing, no one, nowhere, and impossible. When every strength and bone in me have fractured beyond repair and ressurection. Where there's just never enough, beyond blockages and reaching, beyond the climax, ultimatums n ends
but the mattering in me still limping, an unclear and not audible sound signal picking up my soul up, right when all has just bowed and wrapped up to, when commas and sharlom and Amen's are all said and taken but the mattering in me knocks and my kicks out of the coffin, walks out of the fullstops and start putting commas and change red lights into green ones, and beyond becoming nowhere
#Poetic_Ink
It felt so good, like we were movie stars
You were with me, my friends, in my suped-up car
Through the village street at such high-octane speed
Tyres screech, car screams, girls see.
Bump the kerb, skid through the bend
We are men in a car, driving like this mission won't end
Police give chase, blue lights flashing behind
This is where the night changes from fun to wild
Now forcing harder and sharper at corners and bends
One mistake now and it all ends.........
People gather near the pub
Streetlights shine over the blood
Car is dead, crashed into a wall
Friends are dead, seat belts and all!
Policeman is the last one I see
Pain, blood, metal sticking out of me
He winces when he sees the bloody mess
Looks into my eyes with a sad grimace
I hear the siren of the ambulance come
I turn my head to see the paramedics run
I turn back to see the policeman in the cold dark rain
With tears in his eyes he asks me my name
I smile and before I can speak it to him
The sounds all around and my sight go really dim
Then blackness as I hear my father cry and my mother scream
My brothers are so sad, my kitten yowls on my bed in the night,
he can't sleep.
A photo of me when I was in the scouts
A young smiling face with such promise and dreams
Over a coffin with me in.
My father still cries, my mother still screams.
The glass has teeth—
it bites at dawn,
gnawing away what flesh I thought was mine.
A rib is a rung to heaven,
but the ladder never ends.
Numbers bloom red on the bathroom scale,
they hum like insects in the skull.
I am a mannequin—
wire shoulders, hollow eyes,
a smile stitched with needles.
Children bruise themselves
against invisible rulers.
They carve equations into skin:
less, less, less.
The mirror spits back a stranger,
a body mangled into myth,
a coffin that walks,
polished with hunger.
Depression wears a crown of glass,
stress rattles its beads of bone.
We hate the face we are given,
we hate the face we invent.
The mirror waits, patient as winter,
to swallow us whole.
The first two limericks I posted the other day but Sara Kendrick requested that I write a sequel so added four more, I've included the two from the other day should you wish to read it in its entirety.
Bank robber Jim was one unlucky bloke
Went to draw his gun but the holster broke
It dropped on the bank floor
And went off with a roar
The shock was too much and he had a stroke...
Though he was unconscious he hadn't died
Woke in a coffin for his final ride
In a desparate bid
Banged on the coffin lid
But all he could hear was laughing outside...
Written on 17th June 2021
Then someone shouted can you hear banging
It was quite faint because folks were singing
The sheriff prised off the lid
And he was so glad he did
Because he thought we'll have us a hanging...
Jim didn't know whether to laugh or cry
Resigned himself to the fact that he'd die
Saw sheriff holding a rope
Realised there was no hope
And for unlucky Jim the end was nigh...
He was taken to the gallows in town
Handcuffed and wearing nothing but a frown
Jim was then starting to choke
But with the drop the rope broke
The crowd screamed as poor Jim came tumbling down..
Unlucky Jim jumped up quick as a flash
As he passed the bank ran in and grabbed cash
He stole the first horse he saw
Then let out a loud yee haw
And for sweet freedom he made a quick dash...
Written 19th June 2021