Long Contortions Poems
Long Contortions Poems. Below are the most popular long Contortions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Contortions poems by poem length and keyword.
Vagabonds – the lost Avatars
Virtual Vagabonds, avatars
lost amid the teeming Ethernet,
signal searchers illuminated
in the blue light of emptiness
Hobos of a cordless conga line
falling in and out of “bars”
fevered followers worshiping
at the altars of the asinine
Homeless thoughts adrift
in an itinerant infinity
collide with freelance feelings
weeping in crowded solitude
“Screenbound” globetrotters
hiking the world’s keyboards
wayfarers without wires
confined to their seats
“Life”, led by a scrolling finger
followed by two hundred “friends”
seeking validation of its meaning
in the contortions of “emojic” grins.
©9/24/2017
submitted to – Verse Me A Poem – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Broken Wings
Rhapsody of rainbow splits in morose mélange
Bleeding colors sucked from crumbled clouds
Rainstorm rinses the stains on broken hearts
Shades of grey paints the frayed linen of love.
Requiem of rose echoes melancholic medley
Petals hold the tear in drops of mourning dew
Dries under the summer sun of desert mind
Wilted flowers lay posy on the spent passion.
Cacophony captured in the melody of music
Chaotic orchestra rides on disharmony wave
Strained smiles bared in dark podium of life
Songs turn convoluted noise in hollow souls.
Facet of life seen through liquefied cynic stratum
Sunken essence of living refracts vile contortions.
January 15, 2019
Contest : All Yours (Feb 17)
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Goblins prance and dance beneath skylights;
Their contortions create shadows as they swirl.
Ghouls are disgusted by their cavorting and
go along their way;
searching for victims to terrify;
a game they relish.
Ghosts will have their say in the darkest night and
haunt children’s dreams.
Nightmares are where they meet to party.
On All Souls Eve, only the spirits of ancestors and
angels will stop these dream invaders;
monsters will run back into closets for safety;
keep the light on tonight;
souls are not the only celebrants.
In the clear light of morning,
candy swaps ensure comfort until next year.
9-21-18
Fiction - October 2018 Writing Challenge - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Dear Heart a.k.a. Broken Wings
Winter nears and this I cannot defy.
This truth feels doleful, stirring unnamed fear.
Time will not consider my pleading sigh
To keep my remembrances ready clear.
Spring, summer and fall memory portions
Are small, sluggish and blurs seem to belie,
With time initiated contortions,
All heart-joys I have treasured by and by.
Just as summer left me under fall’s sky
And spring thrills strayed after one final bloom,
I need bid fall go with no mood awry
To live content in winter's offered room.
Three seasons left precious, shadowed good-byes.
I best greet winter’s spark with eyes arced high.
Sold by your own compulsion, full on disgust rot & rust you've given into another indulgence.
The waste of day into another loss of light, inside the ever eluding conscience, empty as black as the night.
No trace of the bounty with none in nothingness, a face diluted & drowning. Obsession straight inside your mindlessness.
Like wax's continuous drip.
Skin melted in this mind, a fact that keeps the contortions broken inside.
The never ending shifting water...
The ever changing wind, reflections look like slaughter.
Watch your thoughts twist then bend.
Like that of the forever hath, acknowledge what's true, reality read in epitaph.
Should've taken hold,
learning from young to old.
Material fortune easily lost, a *ucktard is simple, no will or character to emboss.
If thoughtlessness was piss, then your surely drinking this!
Nothing descends.
Nothing gained.
Nothing missed.
Placated by stupidity.
Dilapidated in lividly.
Ever had a really bad itch
And you scratch and scratch away
Till the spot that you've been scratching
Looks much like paper mache
Sometimes you can't even find the spot
You search around but it's fruitless
Seems the damn thing keeps moving
Dance a jig but you still remain clueless
I'm sure it happens to every one of us
From Nature's bag of devious tricks
People go through a bunch of contortions
Even throw down whiskey for a fix
Here's what I would suggest, my friends
Tumble in bed with a gorgeous filly
Damn itch will seem much less important
And you'll get some relieve temporarily
There's one thing that's for certain, though
It'll return just as soon as you're done
You'll still have this annoying problem
But let's face it, you sure had some fun!
©Jack Ellison 2012
Because She Craved the Very Best
by Michael R. Burch
Because she craved the very best,
he took her East, he took her West;
he took her where there were no wars
and brought her bright bouquets of stars,
the blush and fragrances of roses,
the hush an evening sky imposes,
moonbeams pale and garlands rare,
and golden combs to match her hair,
a nightingale to sing all night,
white wings, to let her soul take flight ...
She stabbed him with a poisoned sting
and as he lay there dying,
she screamed, "I wanted everything!"
and started crying.
Keywords/Tags: Rose, Roses, Flowers, Materialism, Possessions, Shallow, Shallowness, Greedy, Greediness, Desire, Lust, Craving, Cravings, Gift, Gifts, Gift-Giving, Ingratitude, Ungrateful, Ungratefulness, Pomp, Circumstance
What The Roses Don’t Say
by Michael R. Burch
Oblivious to love, the roses bloom
and never touch . . . They gather calm and still
to watch the busy insects swarm their leaves . . .
They sway, bemused . . . till rain falls with a chill
stark premonition: ice! . . . and then they twitch
in shock at every outrage . . . Soon they’ll blush
a paler scarlet, humbled in their beds,
for they’ll be naked; worse, their leaves will droop,
their petals quickly wither . . . Spindly thorns
are poor defense against the winter’s onslaught . . .
No, they are roses. Men should be afraid.
The Monarch’s Rose or The Hedgerow Rose
by Michael R. Burch
I lead you here to pluck this florid rose
still tethered to its post, a dreary mass
propped up to stiff attention, winsome-thorned
(what hand was ever daunted less to touch
such flame, in blatant disregard of all
but atavistic beauty)? Does this rose
not symbolize our love? But as I place
its emblem to your breast, how can this poem,
long centuries deflowered, not debase
all art, if merely genuine, but not
“original”? Love, how can reused words
though frailer than all petals, bent by air
to lovelier contortions, still persist,
defying even gravity? For here
beat Monarch’s wings: they rise on emptiness!
Sold by your own compulsion, full on disgust rot & rust you've given into another indulgence.
The waste of day into another loss of light, inside the ever eluding conscience, empty as black as the night.
No trace of the bounty with none in nothingness, a face diluted & drowning. Obsession straight inside your mindlessness.
Like wax's continuous drip.
Skin melted in this mind, a fact that keeps the contortions broken inside.
The never ending shifting water...
The ever changing wind, reflections look like slaughter.
Watch your thoughts twist then bend, never knowing where to begin nor where to end.
Like that of the forever hath, acknowledge what's true, reality read in epitaph.
Should've taken hold,
learning from young to old.
Material fortune easily lost, a fu*ktard is simple, no will or character to emboss.
If thoughtlessness was piss, then your surely drinking this!
Nothing descends.
Nothing gained.
Nothing missed.
Placated by stupidity.
Dilapidated in lividly.
on her lawn
four pink plastic flamingos
peak above a March snowbank
twisted forms caught in forlorn evasion
beak-body contortions like wrestlers resilient
in pretzel formation
unmanageable remnants of warmer days
denied the dignity of upright
plastic muck ups, a nostalgic weep of summer
wishing a solar Florida footing
their caught spirit of iced- playfulness
a pink flamboyance
teasing an icy surface
four plastic birds, frozen status
kitsch defensive
misplaced images like on-line love
wing swept longing
to flee this barren snowbank
nudging a tardy spring's erosion
with its courtship fringes
Poem posted April 13, 2023
Existential fear abandoned for the sake of delusion
Nuclear freeze in her heart of alchemy’s shivers
Veiled shadows dancing to the echo of silence
Intemperance sounding choral confusion of fate
Rosemary scents a bunch of renegade petals
On her journey of lone pipers on terminal bugles
Never one to retreat into apathy she shouts
Mere prophesies into winds of desperate change
Egos will shatter when the last call fades into
No man’s shelter from the trap of human demise
To listen to her mute call is too dark to resist
Entropy swishes one more throw of loaded dice
Nirvana beckons at the gate of heavenly doubt
Virulent resistance comes to the court of justice
In naked despair Rosemary gathers seedlings of hope
Revolves one penultimate time on an axis of evil
Onto pyres of satanic temptation led by the snake
Nemesis confronts agonists and die-hard villains
Mutates mutiny’s prayers into eternity’s pleas
Endless contortions spin the world as we know it
Nefarious quietude rises to a challenging saviour
Thor the God of Thunder loses patience and weeps …
Encores
nibble
violet
incandescence
roasting
onslaughts’
negation
Meander
eternity’s
novel
transmission
Eureka
Naysayers
Vanquish
Irretrievable
Revulsion
Obliterate
Nebulous
Misalignment
Expunge
Noxious
Terror
19th November 2019