Long Cornering Poems
Long Cornering Poems. Below are the most popular long Cornering by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cornering poems by poem length and keyword.
Ache—
Let it sink
Deep
With quiet and unfathomable rage, every word shown
Black ink, black intent,
Yeah, she was done
The black nail polish on her nails chipping
Stupid, cheap crap…
The color black burned through her soul,
Giving her slight satisfaction in her furious state of mind
Always angry
Always sad, and hollow
She wanted desperately to get back at the wretch
Because of him, she wished she never existed
Lying there cold,
Stark-naked on the bathroom floor…
Standing outside the chipped, wooden door
He wanted more
Waiting to feel her flesh upon his own
The demon…
The monster…
You’ve heard the tale
It’s nothing new
Hearing him breath heavily,
Listening, his ears pounding with his heart
A beast awaiting his prey
Cornering her, despairing her
Nose pouring forth snot and blood
He had hit her very hard,
And there was surely more to come
But she had to resist the monster.
She just had to
Glancing at the boarded window in agony and despair,
No one would ever know and there was no one to tell
He’s a good man…
It’s her who’s the bad one
God is mad at her…not him
It’s always that way
Her fists slammed on her desk
After it all, he was coming back for her
She kept telling herself he was going to forget
He was going to leave her alone,
But he soon would be back for more,
Just like the old days
He didn’t give a damn about the ache she endures every day of her miserable life
In a frenzied fury,
She tore up the paper with the short poem on it
He would never feel the ache…
It would never seep through his marrow
Her phone rang loudly, startling her
She let it ring three times and then begrudgingly answered it.
“What?” She spat, clenching her teeth in irritation.
“It’s Mr. Rickman. We are ready to see you in.”
She gulped. The time was upon her. “Now?”
“Yes, of course. Everything’s going to be alright”
She hung up the phone.
She put on her darkest of shirts
She slipped on her black, studded sweater and her spiked collar
Black boots
Black gloves without the fingers
Black skinny jeans
She wanted EVERYTHING to be black today.
Anytime is good for loving .
It is a good time to love
now with the mountain peak
bulging forward steely
and the late afternoon sun
piebalding out a pink
like a body flushed
It is a time good for love
spread out over a table
tomatoes red-cheeked
against aubergines
knobbed purple
with the sizzle of unions,
garlic and a trace of cloves
cornering the giddy secret
of detergent
somewhere
Love would be good
as the garden- corner darkens
around the rose`s virginal white
and the fathomless mouths
of the hibiscus trumpets
simply red
Timely would good love come
with the gibbous head
of the moon bulbing
over the mount
over the still mouth of the rose
rooting in the dark flesh
of the brooding black earth...
Surely ...
It`s a good time for love
like any other.
Critique This Poem -- Vote for this poem
Anytime is a good time to love
Comments
Email
(Optional)
BECOME A POETRY SPONSOR
- Remove Ads -
- Vote for this poem -
V
Email Poem
Sign Guestbook Read Guestbook
Provide Feedback | Vote | Guestbook | Email this Poem
lemme git down to figurative and virtual brass tacks
and risk introducing this veritable unknown citizen,
who feels Trump stacks
odds against supposedly “making America great again” -
vis a vis when pool sharks queue balls with top dollars on racks
displays absolute blatant commander in chief dearth,..and most often packs
near physical punch via pushing dynamic statecraft to the max
with horse betting odds, that future diplomatic sparring
will in short shrift avail his aggressive combative knick knacks
asses instances of his performance,
essentially, obviously, and unquestionably lacks
basic, democratic, futuristic foresight toward peace and harmony
thus (IN MY MIND), ratchets up local and global agitation,
demonization, gastro-intestinal jacks,
thus this brief communique from neither a constituent,
nor person of renown, but outlier who hacks
his way each day – awash with challenges
(though my location nowhere near the sea)
and myopic eyes of mine zeroing in on an unflattering
(yet on the money – averred to thee Bob Corker),
which comment this rump of a president
by blatantly, blithely, blindly axing bedrock of democracy he emotes
one already maneuvering weapons of mass destruction –
preparing for world war three
mostly arising from self created debacles,
or reverberations from in apropos responses,
now pointing fate of civilization on deadly path,
whose very defense of his own ego – oft a twittering outburst
generally creating Armstrong clustered flacks,
which aggressive stance finds Trump braggadocio
adversarial behavior cornering friends or foes backs
pushed hard against real of illusory wall
alarmingly binding coaxial wires detonating fuse to help ignite
a conflagration fomenting jackass kicking
analogous to O'Leary legend, whereat
setting combustible lantern within kicking range of a cow
sparked Chicago fire – no matter the truthfulness,
implications in my mind, HE DONALD TRUMP
HOLDS THE FATE OF MANKIND
(teetering mighty close to doomsday
on tipping point of two mixed metaphors)
AND AS A CONCERNED VOTER GIVE HIM THE BOOT!
I am married to a man who gives money generously
Not only to me but to every person with their hand out
This used to not be a problem but these days panhandlings is a full-time job.
The panhandlers get together and ask “Have you seen Joe today?
What direction was he heading?”
They know his haunts. Dollar store, gas station, Arby’s, McDonald’s, Wendy’s
They cry when they see it is me driving.
I am not thrilled giving away my money
I was forced to give up my money at the age of eighteen
After I had saved every check for three years
Because my parents said they could not afford college.
When my twin and I got there my parents demanded I fork over my money
Money I had earned while my twin was in track, GRA, Y-teen
Money I had earned at $1.25 an hour for four hours after school.
And all day on Saturday.
They wanted my money so my twin could go to college.
"It would not be fair if one twin got to go, and the other twin did not.
Fair?
They were talking about fair?
My mother said "We are going to take you home if you do not
give us your passbook."
I was eighteen, I thought they could take college away.
I had no advocate so I reluctantly relented.
I would not have been so reluctant
If my twin had WANTED to go to college.
She was sobbing and wailing because she did not want to be there.
I do not think she attended classes more than a week.
I was sobbing and wailing because my parents STOLE my money.
Money they said they would pay back.
I had no guarantee of this, now that they had violated my trust.
Some kid was hotfooting it to my car today.
Feeling strongly he was going to ask me for money I wanted to pull out.
A lady whizzed in, cornering me, so I was still there upon his arrival.
Um, ma’am, he said “Could you spare a few dollars?”
Instantly furious I yelled this “I just retired. I worked hard for my money.
Get OUT OF MY WAY!”
I know my husband would have handed him money
And maybe a key to the car or groceries.
But my husband did not have MY parents.
His trust was NOT violated.
He thinks I am selfish for not giving.
I am not selfish, I am remembering....
when a parent of a child
experiences
with an odd mixture of shame,
humor & wonder,
that very first lie
which their children tells them,
does this parent experience the same feeling that they
themselves did
when they found out that
santa
wasn’t real?
like the slim difference between
a hysterical laughing face
&
a hysterical crying face,
that flipside reflection
of being let down by
reality,
comes swinging in your direction,
cornering you in the ring---
and do you believe in some kind of
creator?
as a parent who will lie to their child about
santa,
will you continue to conjure,
piggybacking on that greatest of great lies---
passing it on like an
std of the heart & mind?
in remembering the insignificance of
praying to a work of fiction,
why do you perpetuate that same
dissatisfaction that comes in perpetuating
your own perceived societal obligation
to
believe,
when in all honestly,
you are lying to yourself every day of your
life?
paraphrasing mr. maher in his work of genius,
“religulous,”
certainly, not believing that a fat man with a beard
could possibly deliver presents to every good little
boy & girl on this planet
in one night,
has a familiar ring to it,
when you consider the possibility of an
omniscient being
answering all the prayers of everyone that is
praying
on this planet,
every single time they ring in.
in a related
tangent:
it seems justifiable that when churches, temples
& mosques get tax breaks,
that in return,
the believers who attend weekly,
should have to wear some kind of prophylactic suit that would
keep their children from being
infected with
disease
before they have a chance to protect themselves
with rational
inquiry.
As l look around and gather things for my journey
l realise that l havent reached my tally
As the trials and tribulations sweep me across the valley
l breathed heavily, in and out , as l reach for my Yahweh
My mind twisting and curling as l recall sadly
The events that captured , fascinated and ;
and left deep cuts into my heart
The definations and evaluations of sin that l calculated
Only managed to land me in theft, prostitution and murder
Drugs , alchahol , rapist and liar were my middle identities
All l knew back then was that l had to
jump fences, duck cops and shoot back to survive
ln my fast diversion and quick cornering of the lane, l had the church choir
singing salvation and how much he loved me
Or was it me they sang to or just for themselves?
l cursed the melodic voices for singing lies
and yet as we the sinners live they are supposed to be saved
l was running further and deeper with the
wind blowing my frail body like a plastic bag
My heart was giving in, my knees were crumpling
l needed rest and immediatey l found it
l heard a loud, deadly and dreaded sound
And then there was silence and then darkness
They later told me that l woke up after a month
The Saints had found me and like the good Samaritan
had done all they could
with all their belief and might to save my life
They told me about the grace and kindness of Yahweh
And l cried, and cried, and cried
Because l had never known that he not only cared
but had feelings that swept across oceans
thoughts that rose to the heavens
dreams that conquered all nature
and love that exceeded humanity's
For me
There and there l looked at my Yahweh
And realised that l am saved
And my past is over
General data protection regulation hits the internet running
Disrupting models of personal data manipulation, dissemination and protection
In scenarios where click and trick firms gunning
Through stealth and miscalculation
Harvest personal data
Share it, carve it, analyze it and synthesize it
Commoditizing data on a silver platter
Turning owners of data into a misfit
Whose role becomes peripheral to the resources
Inherent in the data hitherto unprotected
In environments where unknown algorithms catch data from personal sources
Converting it into commodities whose preselected
Models yield colossal sums in profit and loss accounts
That swell coffers
Bursting to the brim with huge zillion counts
Which personal information confers
On business moguls now battling for their lives
Confronting upfront a new reality
In which GDPR offers
Checks and balances to terminate the surreality
Where multinational corporations
Can no longer harvest personal information
In clandestine operations
Through intrigue and misinformation
Cornering data owners whom they render irrelevant
Milking them to the bone
Burying their rights to consent on data use as a subservient servant
Whom they harry in a dismissive tone
Until GDPR turns the tables
Demanding clarity in genuine consent
Disassociated from stables
When the subterfuge of terms and conditions suffers a descent
Into irrelevance
Which opacity
For too long hid in the lance and dance
With scorn in usury city
Adding salt to injury
Blackmailing data owners
Through perjury
Hidden and driven in motives of illicit profit spawners and partners.
buying my own suicide
the devil on my shoulder spoiling me rotten
knowing what's best for you
april fool's day armageddon
the movie about the book that inspired the movement
april fool's day armageddon
selfishly learning to destroy the devils of our own making
and outsmarting our own fate
a date with destiny the world couldn't refuse
buy my book
sucked you in
spat you out safely
learned to do it again
replace the one thing worth replacing
new ways to celebrate the reality of our struggles to see this one day
and hold onto it as long as we can
April fool's armageddon
the world but a stage
our lives no joke, but live to make our demise an unkillable monster to laugh at
lead this way to see if you would drink
selfishly killing for uncharted territory in a dream this big
all the while waiting for the day to do away with the devil on our shoulder
of our own creation
illusory dreams
short term success
duped again for utopian ideals
selfless killers found among the slaughtered
the joke im not telling
is one of the gamble of the april fool armageddon
the joke im dreaming of peace
the running gag of several sides
one by one of different measures dumbfounded by prose
or rapture be riddled
forever incomplete
leaving the world happily deadlocked
in a state of cornering me
and doing so happily
to set them free
back to the punchline
the joke that has been told will be repeated
worked on, redone, retold and enjoyed, perhaps shared with the gods
who may curse our the perfection we are about to achieve
Why?
For I choose to not be blinded;
I pass pretences,
the periphery of parameters of People and Life
and the Illusions we wrap ourselves in.
Variables become Limitations when the cloak is too tightly woven
Lest it be a veil
Clearer to See.
Lonely and willingly
I shattered through darkness and unholy actions
[unsure you would believe it]
I Drowned and hurt
in places within, that I didn't know existed
I fearfully bathed like angels do
..to Purify my Intentions
[It takes all you've got]
..to Own my Actions
[It takes Truth, the Whole Truth, and nothing but the Truth]
..to Choose.
[..not for me, but for the betterment of the world]
..to Re-Build with Love and Acceptance
k i n d n e s s
Humbly, mindfully and carefully
Not because that's the only way
however, it is MY way.
My Purpose
I have seen roads end and new ones being built;
Repetition is cornering the foundation yet again,
rewriting and unfolding unto itself, thus deemed to be, AGAIN,
Expecting a different ending, for Nothing
Isn't that the definition of insanity?
I wouldn't say that it is wrong per se
we all believe different
I see a way through, though
owning up to the demands we place on each other
Honesty, Acceptance, Respect, Empathy
Self worth, Self Awareness, Self Insight
with Love.
And Love alone.
" HISKEY " wASSER wACKEAL
MADE HIS LONG AWAITED DEBUT AGAINST
"FUSSER"
FRUSSI AMI ALMOST
ENDED IN A PINFALL @ 2:01 WACKEAL
WAS VICTORIOUS, USING A
CLOTHESLINE FOR THE PIN
"pRIMO" PICCO RODRIGUEZ
DOWNED
DITTIAMO GUL GREAZIE
USING A FISTERS CATCHER TO
SCORE A SUBMITTION
GODBOUT RHINNEY AND CLAWED-CLAMP CLAUDE
FACED NAPSACK NEAL AND MANGO WARRIOR
IN AN AUSTRIAN RULES TAG MATCH
GODBOUT RHINNEY BEARHUGGED MANGO WARRIOR
FOR THE SUBMITTION.
"SADDLEBRUSH" TADDLE RUSTLER USED HIS
THEZE-BOW SPEAR TO DEFEAT
"GLAMOROUS" BRYAN BELGRIST
LOTTA-MIEN DEWWRIGHT
MADE HIS PRESENCE KNOWN AGAINST
"THOSE THAT LOVE ME" THIPPS SUPPERSONG
CORNERING HIM IN THE STAGING AREA..
"LOTTEZ OF LOVE" AND BEEFY HAMBONE
CHASED THE FELLA AWAY....
THE COBBLESTONE BAMA FELL TO THE HANDS OF
"BAD-BAD" BRITT TALUS, LOSING 23 STRAIGHT BOUTS
IN ONE CONSECUTIVE YEAR.
MAIN EVENT
" THE AMERICAN GOLDEN BOY" STELLDRUE
WHIPPED "RUSSIAN BRUTE" KAFFAGONE FRILLOFF