Long Corpse Poems
Long Corpse Poems. Below are the most popular long Corpse by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Corpse poems by poem length and keyword.
Each moment, like life itself, is a pleasant knock,
This, like the spring surprises, unlocks each time clock;
And unpacks puzzling feelings like Pandora box,
Making me take hold of my lifeboat like a cox...
Knocks are manifold like milkman knock and postman's
Policeman knock stops my heart like a lanced glance;
Knock of freedom flows flawless, like dew on a rose,
And lover's knock at darling's heart no limit knows...
Once I dreamt as though got knocked by an ambulance,
Lying as a corpse cursed to dead ambiance;
Grave dug; coffin decorated; body embalmed,
When I woke I found the whole story flaw-bombarded...
Life is like rugby, full of knocks, knockouts, knockdowns
Rubbing shoulders creates breakdowns and shakedowns;
Knock of hate can sound sometimes like knock of pure love,
Resonance of knock within does love's union shove...
Divine knock, often, beats in the heart like sea waves,
Erupting number of thoughts like volcano caves;
When avoid it clings like iron on the magnet,
I entangle within, like fish in a dragnet...
Knocks must be, like all events, viewed objectively,
In them, are hidden meanings so collectively;
If each knock leads to a call of divinity,
Earthly life can turn into divine dignity...
14 September 2021
''K'' Contest, New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
bloated girth deceased,
not surprisingly packed orotund
size appetite conveniently weighted
gravity helped fell
giant gourmand chowhound
demise linkedin automatically tightened
neckerchief doubled as noose clothbound
neck, the luckless bard dead -
poets society he didst cofound
oh captain my captain compound
suffering no more, departure doth not confound
those familiar with ravages of pennilessness
although glum spouse doggone bewailing
analogous to melancholy coonhound
inescapable woebegone travails decompound
constituted complex challenges
doom also depressed petsmart deerhound
four footed friend invisibly yoked, where
writings witnessed scrivener
daily voluntarily deskbound
unsuccessful chicken scratch disbound
dispersed newpages feted
German, Oriental and American cockroaches
courtesy proffered grubhub,
wet precipitation courted mildew,
and mold beheld fancy feast dumbfound
ding maggoty parasites riddled
treasure trove discovered earthbound
corpse hungry flocking carrion
heralded all points of compass - eastbound
most popular, hence route crow did house,
cutthroat beasty boys
aided, devoured, gorged...,
among which canine corps elkhound
leader of pack tacking course enwound
roundabout path barking commands
ruff lee didst expound
slinked sly as foxes -
shushed kindred brothers
up ahead wolf gang,
thence took faux minute paws
aware fresh meat fairground
survival of fittest edict woof lee decreed,
when sudden thick terrain fogbound
not impossible mission, though
totally opaque foreground
keen sense of smell and hearing aid found
dead reckoning, i.e. ground zero.
Hopkins just fumed, and dove for his iron,
Bud’s gun barked, and he fired right then,
The Pinkerton’s charged at the gunshot,
And stared down on the lifeless corpse of Hopkins.
“Sorry I could not get him for you alive,”
Was all Bud said when they looked on the scene.
“You’ve got your man, you’ll get your reward,
but there is some place else that I have to be.”
The very next morn bud arrived at the ranch,
and found Henry working out in the corral,
he said,”I thought about the things that you said,
there’ll be no more trouble from Hopkins now.”
Henry drew near, stared down the young man,
Said,”Well at least now you might have a chance.
But it doesn’t explain what you’re doing here,
why you dared to come back here again?”
Bud just frowned, said,”With things how they are,
I need to find myself a living, of course.
You gotta big spread and I thought maybe
you could use a man who can break a horse.”
Henry went silent for a very long time,
then rubbed at his chin, deep in thought,
“And were I to hire a man like yourself,
how can I ever be sure what I’ve got?”
Bud swallowed hard, and said to Henry:
“If you doubt that my words are sincere,
Then I’ll work my first year for just room and board,
To prove to you that I want to be here.”
Henry just smirked as he heard the words.
“How ’bout I start you out at half-pay.
You give me six months without a slip up,
then I’ll know the truth in what you say.”
Bud shook on it, could not help but smile,
but then Henry said one more thing:
“Also, you’re not to make eyes at my girl,
until I decide that she’s an age for courting!”
~“Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here
Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven and may look on her,
But Romeo may not."
- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, 3.3
Juliet's Plea
Dost thou deem, heav'n only rises with the corpse
upon the last sweet breathe of virgin light
as face dost pale to pearl and roses leave my lips tonight
Romeo, my living eyes knew naught your purpose.
In sooth, I thought thee dead on that black night
and so, no other earthly joy could stay my heart
but heav'ns had we all, before this sorry plight
pray pardon love, I would nay have thee depart.
Abide, abide my love, my Romeo, alas...
by your leave, I hold St. Peter’s gate op’ for thee
And verily, I wait for time is naught in death
and thee, my love, my Lord, are all to me.
*Their love and their deaths were a scandel.
A brutal murder in portentous chill
A helpless life, under butcher's will
An ominous spade digs soil in till.
Buried in dark secret, an aghast kill.
Corpse stenched, languished still.
The cops nab smite, in strokes of grill..
Shoveled out of dirt, brown bags fill.
The body unearthed, with shovel skill.
Scraping in shudders, foreboded ill.
A chasm of bare bones, lie dead still
Exhumed out promises, none to fulfill.
Playing labyrinth of hell, media score bill.
Dreams of trepid soul, to ash burn until.
Shovel and rake, witness of blood spill
Underneath the field..beside a distant hill
A lonesome weeps, grave in teared frill.
Winter in cold-blood, killed spring of daffodil.
3rd March 2019
SCRAPING OF SHOVELS CONTEST
Sponsor John Lawless
When words stay silent
When thoughts get shrunken,
words remain silent,
When eye are sunken,
the tears gone dry,
When heart burns in betrayal,
love that dear denies,
When beats regress in depression,
passion pays a price,
The whole world comes collapsing,
no weapons, no fight,
Walking as a mere corpse,
the soul loses its might,
Nothing be done, Nowhere to go,
memories burden the mind,
Darkness, once aglow,
pretends to be kind,
Feel those skies calling
as morning sparrow chirp,
Wings of eternity,
may in time unwind.
Written Oct 3rd, 2016
By Dr. Upma A. Sharma
. for public domain
Humbling Grumble
(in the presence of "What have you been muttering?"
Like Laura Wingfield and her glass figurines,
indulging her comfort in daily routines,
so near to the living, so far from being alive,
resists drawing breath, no matter how I connive,
cajole, entreat or entice, beckon or reckon;
commits no sin, not she, no, not for a second.
A force of nature, yet to me a chilling bane,
distorts light, like shards of ice on a window pane.
I sit and wonder, should I share life's living breath,
with someone unfeeling, and much closer to death,
than a cold corpse long asleep in a coffin buried?
one who Kharon has across the river Styx ferried?
And then I fondly remember, and sigh with shame,
how we each once celebrated Life's long living flame,
and vowed to fidelity, for better or worse
not to abandon each other's side until the hearse
arrives, and onto our own separate ways
we travel and let go of our long raveled days.
This, our sworn bond and cause for present tenderness,
keeps me quiet by her side with muted and humbled acquiesce.
That day, I saw myself twice in the mirror
and neither one resembled the other.
One was coming toward you, and the other was turning back.
The one who came was tired, colorless;
with fear and haste, she drew lipstick across her cracked lips
to keep her distance from that ghostly face of hers,
from the face of a lost spirit.
The one who returned was the corpse of that very lost soul.
I died in your embrace—
among a hundred people standing on the bridge,
above the storks in the river,
the very moment the kingfisher dove.
Just as you pulled me toward yourself,
into your arms, though only for a brief greeting,
the seconds vanished.
On the revolving wheel, the bridge and the street and the river were dancing,
and I was giving up my life.
A drop of lipstick-red blood fell onto the collar of your leather jacket.
I laughed…
The one who returned was not like the one who had gone.
~ Swirling, Sweetness of Poetry ~
Just think, it’s the start of a shining, dewy today!
There is magic in your fingers, so write without delay.
In this world, we, with cotton- candy dreams, spin the future ahead,
After all, you are fully alive, you are neither a corpse, nor are you dead!
This world belongs to the living, we are the futures’ tomorrows!
So do stop weeping for the dead, it brings your soul, only ongoing sorrow.
Even tiny children tearfully know, when to let their beloved toys go.
So for you, grow~ it’s time to get on with your dazzling, poetry show.
To the future, do raise your crystal glasses of hope high!
Keep sweet, yes, but dare not consume any humble pie.
There are friends here who won’t ever leave your side.
But, if any do~ no problem, you will forgive with joy and abide!
Poetry for me is not a carnival, with worldly prizes and praise to win.
It’s the sacred grounds of my self-expression, my soul shining twin!
Love and frienship,
Pangie
7/9/2024
Friendship that never fades
Lies deep
Beyond our minds.
We follow our hearts in search of true love,
Yet it fails the next day
Before we even understand it.
The heart is a blind compass;
Its love does not see
The tears that fall
As our partners pack us out of their lives.
This kind of love does not remain
When the world rejects us.
Unlike the love our hearts have given,
My eyes have witnessed real love
From a true friend.
Everyone has a friend
Who walks with them
Every day, everywhere, every time—
To the road, to the bed,
To every corner of their journey.
And it dies beside them,
Lying close to their corpse.
This is a friend
Who cries with you without gossip,
Laughs and eats with you,
Looks in the direction of your sight,
Does everything beside you,
And rests when you grow tired.
This love is greater
Than the love of the heart.
Yet our friend never complains
About our rejection;
It follows us faithfully
Even to our graves.
Whether the sun rises
Or the moonlight strikes the night,
We see it walking beside us,
Yet we never stop to say,
“Thank you, my love.”
Our hearts are liars,
But the eyes never deceive,
Because true love is commitment and loyalty,
Not mere existence.