Long Contorts Poems
Long Contorts Poems. Below are the most popular long Contorts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Contorts poems by poem length and keyword.
While fear fills empty eyes;
worry contorts your face.
It is hard to believe,
you could forget your name.
Yet as you shrink inside,
all I can do is weep.
Your identity's gone;
only a shell remains.
And stripped of dignity;
you struggle with your shame.
And yet, one thing is plain,
all I can do is weep.
Lost in a mental maze,
you can't find your way out.
While confusion stalks you;
erasing memories.
And though I'm losing you,
all I can do is weep.
Dwindling into fragments,
you lose a bit each day.
And that loss is endured
silently in despair.
For facing Alzheimer's;
all I can do is weep.
The agony of lost love pierces your heart,
and contorts your soul.
Betrayal severs forever-bonds,
draining your heart of hope and your soul of faith.
You call upon feelings stored in memory;
to carry you through this ordeal.
For love and hate hold opposite
sides of the same coin:
and fate determines the outcome, despite expectations.
We feed our ego and pride when we're young,
freshly weaned off innocence.
And feel we know everything;
until youth's confidence eventually crumbles.
Falling in and out of love,
drains your hopeful heart, tear by tear
as sadness surges from your core:
melding with reality in quiet acceptance.
In a fog of deceit: you laugh and cry, simultaneously!
Life's a conundrum; it seems receptive to your wants,
yet non-responsive to your needs.
Happiness is elusive; doubts haunt its fringes,
but so too do hope and love!
A spontaneous eruption of feelings
that doesn't respect rules and conditions,
love is impossible to pin down:
for it seldom adheres to logic or any accepted norms.
I can feel this rage boiling,
Bubbling to the top.
I can feel it catching fire,
Gathering heat nonstop.
Trampled on, belittled, and used,
With pain and anger suppression fused,
Cap to bottle where pressure grew.
A rageful burst ignites a flame,
A violent urge inside creates
An urgent need to purge what’s sane.
So I tipped the ladle and poured my pain,
Into molds I cast from my shame,
Where molten bone is cooled with haste
To form the blackest glass to claws and fangs.
From iron ladle, fall tears like viscous drips,
Drops that burn the softness from my fearful lips.
Fire quickly desecrates
The innocence I held in vain,
My tongue reforged in Satan’s grip,
Now a sharpened blade my speech equips.
The blackened sneer drawn on my face,
Upon my soul has left phosphorus stain.
My body begins to seize and twitch,
And from my mind my memory slips.
Chunks of time from sight erased,
Under pressure the chainmail breaks.
Self-control not mine to claim,
Within my bones, I feel the itch.
With a second pop, my seams have split,
My one body now, shares two minds.
A ferocious fire burns inside,
It lights the forge that brings to life
A creature birthed from rage’s flame
That from my being can now escape.
Using my body, it contorts my frame,
A primitive urge to destroy untamed.
With my bladed tongue, it speaks in rhyme,
That death by cane a passion’s crime.
But just to show his civilized side,
Chosen next be a deadly shade of night.
Under shadowed fate our souls entwined,
But don’t confuse his name with mine.
If what you cherish is your life,
It would yet be best to call him,
Mr. Hyde.
ALONG FOR THE RIDE
We race through streams of mud, looking like bank bandits,
our bandanas fastened around mouth and nose. Open-air
vehicles, look like skeletons, and the roar of its engine leaves
no room for conversation. But I exult in each bump, thinking
the best splash is this one, no this one, not even close. My
mind on the excitement and joy my husband feels, his
adventurous heart stirs mine. Not always so, but he has
elevated me - I hold his hand on mountain peaks.
One first ride — the banana boat, yellow and with
mischievous eyes, carrying youthful passengers
with brunette and blond innocence. They ask
the guides if there are any sharks. They chuckle
saying, “Of course! We are in open ocean.”
So our ride begins, and we bounce, spin, faster
and faster until they purposely throw us out
of the boat, and I no Spring chicken. My body
contorts and I’m afraid I might have hurt my back.
I glare at my husband — the kill shot.
Twice more our guides toss us out. By the third time
I’m resigned to the fact and have gotten over my terror.
And you see, I never gave the sharks a thought.
6/4/2019
You have lost yourself, expressed the moon figure.
You may wear a veil if you are not sure of your ardor
You are a shadow falling through the vast fire.
Sadly, nobody knows what your identity is, however.
You are an alien to yourself, they said again and again.
Where do I fit in case I'm living without a name?
I don't realize where I belong on this dead earth then.
Alone I'm utterly lost as for who I'm caring of or aim.
Dweller contorts your body and torments your head.
When you break the law, the fallen devils follow you.
No one knows you since they lived in your mind.
You are an alien to you, yet much you can pursue.
In the womb, you were a beating dot blind.
And you're gazing at a white shroud, bind.
Written August 24, 2021
For “Why Am I Me?” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Shreya LN
A tradesman’s son and temple secrets die
in sixty nine years, never knowing why.
Contempt delivered their first child perfect,
your childhood gauntlet galvanized neglect.
A mother’s son and her abuse still lie
in sixty nine years, never knowing why.
Too something when her final moments came.
Without confession laid to rest the same.
So was it from the bosom or the flame
the day you heard her call your name?
Consistent honor you bestowed on them,
corollas shredded by thorns on the stem.
Forgiveness took away the rage and strife.
I saw in you, The Way, The Truth, The Life.
With mind and humor, your genetic gifts.
Denatured strands surrendered protein fifths.
All needs provider who was always there.
Divine command parental judgement fair.
Devout corrections laid by word or hand
within a dying culture’s screams withstand.
Alone in Scripture’s cords you did demand
of God’s own virtue, I was taught to stand.
Around your house, collect and to revive
those things of a past that keep you alive.
In every dream that keeps you coming back,
contorts the dawn and colors out from black.
For just a moment, it’s time they defy,
recasts the morning of our last goodbye.
To take a final look and to work through
regrets till each tear welcomes a thank you
When given no tomorrow to be sown,
has sin become the marrow of the bone?
Eternal light now nothing left unknown,
divergent gateways from the triune throne.
The flesh, the bone, to bits, to grit, to ash.
The fires refine the gold and purge the trash.
A common trust in blood for us he died,
to keep our spirits, Hell to be denied.
Forgotten wages slowly turn a knife,
see you again, The Way, The Truth, The Life.
Laws over user
Response in violation
I'ma violation of code?
Next sentence no jury
Immediately I lost control
Living is leaving without doors
Pre eminent domain the framers
Constitution
An earth in form
Assembled infantry
Order duty
Follow document
Intercept
Floored
Rent a right
Ambition dollar
Our articulate article
Misses print
Who sided with before, controversial
Higher orders, adjunct military professor of law
Stilled the fix of formatted text
The preferential abandon as treatment
Treat men
War with a battlefield of dying poor
My published records of ink in light
Stopped by outsiders having wishes of rewrite French crime
Penny contorts interest
Depriving satisfaction
Kreb a bus
Now undefine the cost of that writers right
In this absence if article documenting times
How is one literal
It consumes me whilst I’m in here,
It feeds from within,
I’m not sure if it’s a crutch that holds me up,
Or a cover that keeps me safe,
But I feel it every day,
Every second of every hour it’s here,
Suggesting and resenting,
Whispering and venting,
It’s affects my physicality,
It makes me feel larger,
Foreboding,
It contorts my features to show its hate,
It scares me but I’m not scared of it,
I accept it because it’s mine,
It’s the only thing I own which no one else can get,
Its all I have in here and I need it to get me through,
My hate,
My loathing,
My vengeance,
The only thing i pray for ,
The one thing I wish to find,
Is that when my time is up,
I can leave this hate behind.
"Just block out memory," the analyst tells me.
Yet images of my friend, emaciated, persist.
His last day - I scream at the nurse,
"More morphine! He needs more morphine!"
Suffering that contorts his body like the peel of
screeching tires.
"You're not family," the nurse shouts,
"that decision isn't yours!"
My friend slips off, de-masking pain.
His lost grip on everything he once controlled.
We worked together,
built things together.
Years melted into our bond like the unheard voices
of beggars welded to streets.
I gave the eulogy.
Tailored dignity.
Was it enough?
Our suffering is an open jar of preserves
- preserved when we remember loss
- preserved because memory (ever on the prowl)
sits on our doorstep
to pounce every time we walk out.
If we close our eyes, can we look back to the start
When the Universe began, when science played it's part
Particle clouds so massive, so immense
It's us, look around, learn it makes sense
Drifting microbes, bacteria of sorts
For millions of years mingled into life shaped contorts
It has taken eons of time as life became known
Where human words like Mother Nature, having claimed life's throne
For in her sphere, blossomed riches of note
From Dinosaurs to Zebra's, it's her right to gloat
But what she has given is a chance to let live
On this planet of beauty that we continue to sieve
If we close our eyes, and we look back to the start
We should be so very fortunate, we were invited to take part
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