Long Crazing Poems

Long Crazing Poems. Below are the most popular long Crazing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crazing poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member You Do Not Know Me

Dark angels dance overhead
Storm clouds swirl within my head
Smiles are the veils of hidden thoughts
Tormented souls question not what is not

Ile St Louis, a swamp of nighttime beasts
Where soon poets shall roam
All that changed, the darkness kept the same
Only evil flowers dare to grow here

I was born in the comfort of a weeping nurse
Soon bestowed to the gallows underneath
For life passed by, and left me to ponder
The horror and madness within my dreams

You kiss my lips
Passions kiss you think frees me
From the darkness where I reside
St Louis is but far off from our romps

The play, maybe a muse on a past romance
Our flirt but a dance with history
You don’t know me
For I was born in the dark

As love ripens, we turn to grapes
The evening becomes our escape
Tiss you who have drowned me
In Seine, is where I rest

You don’t know me
My lover and killer
As I float away
From l'ile St Louis


Footnotes:

This poem is truly Edgar Allen Poe! Ile St Louis is the smaller of 2 islands in Paris on the Seine. It used to be swampland and crazing for cows, and in fact was the original Paris. Of course it was later developed, and many a famous persons have lived there, one being,  Charles Baudelaire  a French poet, whom is famous for a few things, the first being his poetic works called “ Fleur du Mal “   ( Flowers of Evil ) and thus the line in my poem “Only evil flowers dare to grow here”.  However Charles Baudelaire also discovered the works of Edgar Allen Poe and proceeded to translate Poe’s works into French. 

In Seine, is where I rest, well what can I say, I am insane, and thus this is one of my favorite lines!! :) As for Ile St Louis, I can only say, in Canada it is truly and island all alone!


A Crack Heard Round the World

It's just a small crack
 much like the one in the Old Liberty Bell
but here it is again growing,
 in the torch of Lady Liberty's hand;
like any crack first made
 it tends to grow and stretch
repaired yet recurring thru time
 still inching larger and looming
over the freedom of mankind;
 if you're not careful,
if you fail to tend its needs
 forget or deny its original purpose
the freedoms, justice, and liberties,
 those allegiances in which you once believed
will become crazing that erodes a little more
 of unrepairable fissures that grow
fractures, breaking points that rupture and explode
 as the cleft and breach of a democracy implodes;
until the world, you well knew is unfamiliar and lost
 to a common-sense America no longer knows.
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Epitaph

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