Long Creepily Poems
Long Creepily Poems. Below are the most popular long Creepily by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Creepily poems by poem length and keyword.
Reality are dreams
And dreams... are but nothing more
For sooner will you dismiss its means
Is there that dream to mean for?
Have you not wish to become someone?
To only have requirements met but dreams unfulfilled
We all do became and never become
Or have we to sleep nights away for days renewed?
And I dream, I do... you as well
Have you not reached your dream to be?
To only have met whence depreciation fell
Did you not but remember an expectation to see?
I always have the need for runaway
To only be drawn back constantly... creepily
To once more consider where survival lay
I did have a dream have I not... to live happily
My reality perhaps are dreams
Surviving a world term reality I live for
No sooner will I question its means
Is it dream... or simply nothing more?
Today was the first day of class.
You should have seen all the people.
Everyone couldn’t have had class, some of them must
have been gawkers, the types that slow to watch
flat tire changings and car wrecks.
Some were carrying maps - freshmen.
Like student drivers they clogged the paths,
drawing a few looks.
They gaggle together like geese,
Jeeezus - shut UP and get ON with it, freshies! I thought.
Not ungenerously - I remember being lost - back in the day.
I have class, myself - in both the intrinsic sense - of style -
and in the “research for credit” ‘check in on the first day,’ kind.
Still, we’re parading, and I’ve always loved parades.
My one regret is that there are no mimes or elephants.
ok.. poetry..
Stress is somewhere in my propinquity.
See, it’s known to stalk this vicinity.
I’m not a freshman, so it hasn’t struck yet,
but when it does, and it will, you can bet,
that initially, it will shake my tranquility
and end our start-of-year festivities.
It will creepily creep, destroying my sleep,
until I prove my scholastic resiliency.
.
.
Songs for this:
Violently Happy by Björk
Schoolin' Life by Beyoncé
accursed creepily haunting
Phantasmagoria wraiths
vandalize residents psyches
within their sleep induced state
Sublimation shunts
slumbering souls
unknowingly held hostage
successfully sacrificing
Semi-smothered silent species
snoring simians steadfastly succumb
subsequent sibilant sounds
woo woebegone wicked transmogrification
dilapidated divested bodies deposited
wizard waves wand
watching whirling wretched lovely bones
whipsawing (in toto) within abyss
whooshing whistling wheezing
whets warlocks appetite wakening
brutish nasty nightmare
sinister hulking spirits
steal assorted corporeal essence
monstrous mashing somnambulant
mephistophelian shadowy satanic satyrs
supremely swallow senior citizen bankers
deep within catacombs
of Highland Manor,
deadened defeated Delphic Oracle
relegates human husks,
viz spent embodiments
to the under world lay siege
sinisterly seeding, via sinister spirits
one pure evil particularly wicked
witch thy capering
sickening ghastly plot against
unsuspecting spouse snatched
parch trey gnarled warty claws.
When grief became a shadow
It felt as if nothing else mattered
Like a sudden darkness
Raining down upon us
Like sucking the light from our eyes
Like a wound opened multiple times
It follows you like a stalker
Creepily walking behind you
Keeping an eye on your every moment
And when you think you outsmarted it
When you take a deep breath and treasure the moment
It strikes when you are most vulnerable
Stealing your breath
While watching you struggle
The weight of what could've been haunts you
Wishing you didn't give in to the world's cruelty
Whishing you could travel back to the moment
When the world taught you, your skin was a problem
Telling the broken you
You love them
When the world forces you to carry perfection
Whilst teaching white children that their skin equates to perfection
Wishing the world could see
How damaging trauma can be
When you make black kids believe
That they are a crime against humanity
Carrying it to their teens
And through adulthood
believing
A world harbouring their envy
When in reality
It's us They want to be
Creeping creepily so softly in the dark
A sniffle, a yearning formed deep in the heart.
Is that you grief?
Are you there?
The heaviness feels heavy as it forms in the air.
It creeps so creepily as it is creeping
where there is room
Joy is drained wherever it goes
If only I knew.
You're here.
I feel you.
Grief, is that you?
It seeps into all corners
The lead role, as if on cue.
Tears race into nothing
Creep creeping down my cheeks
A pain so paralyzing, keeps me still and weak.
Creep creep
Creep creep
It is here and here to stay
I go on, I live
It creeps on another day.
©?EarthBranch
I cannot lie. A townie’s legs are kind of atrophied.
Too much couch sitting for our tummies to get taunt.
Unfit, unhealthy, unresponsive, unable to hide,
we sit and wait for our food to arrive by aunt.
Our country cousins’ legs are muscular and trim.
They are in the field with corn, haying and picking.
We townie cousins almost always join a gym,
But do not go, our subconscious we are tricking.
Our country cousins get up at five and start working.
We prefer to sleep ‘til ten, some of us do twerking.
Our country cousins go to church, passé’ for us.
They are creepily polite, defer to God, and rarely cuss.
The big muscles in their arms we notice now and again.
We do not make a big deal of it or the muscles in their shin.
They are fit from head to toe, from all the chores they do.
Townies are inside lumps, and it makes us a little blue.
Country cousins are outside most of their day,
we townies use an I-pad or I-pod to do our play.
Country cousins, some of us are envious of you.
Try to get our kicks with buying, which will rarely ever do.
Written 9-8-2019
Contest: Town Children
Sponsor: Julia Ward
I tucked my head into that pebbles pillow.
Grasping the night would be rather restless.
Your sight crams me, my love and fiery foe.
If ardor was aimed to be creepily hotness.
Grasping the night would be quite restless,
Why does this brisk void squash my bone?
If ardor was aimed to be creepily hotness,
My racked soul cries out for a return prone.
Why does this brisk void squash my bone?
Folded like a shriveled rose's fading petal.
My racked soul cries out for a return prone.
Rotting deftly, accept death with no meddle.
Folded like a shriveled rose's fading petal.
Two days were enough to drive me crazy.
Rotting deftly, accept death with no meddle.
A cracked pane of glass and a train empty.
Two days were enough to drive me crazy.
Your sight crams me, my love and fiery foe.
A cracked pane of glass and a train empty.
I tucked my head into that pebbles pillow.
Written: May 21, 2022
Chet lived creepily in the back of the tavern, hidden.
No one bothered him. He lived vicariously through the others.
The pretty barflies who flitted in chatting too loudly.
Flipping their hair. He had a salacious appetite, saw them all naked.
They sometimes waved to his corner when they were drunk.
He did not think they knew he was perpetually eyeballing them.
Unclothing them one piece of clothing at a time in his mind.
Uncovering their secrets was easy; they shared way too much.
His voyeuristic tendencies got him ostracized and secluded from family.
His mixoscopia and scoptolagnia confusing the prissy Baptists he knew.
He might go Catholic, he had heard they were more open. Nah!
Religion was not for him. His religion was this bar and those bar flies.
One of them was throwing her head back now, laughing loudly.
He would dream of her tonight. He smirked at the eroticism she brought him.
She turned and waved. If he was forty years younger, he would be over there.
But he knew better so he stayed put, swigging back his beer.
When clouds draw near and all my fears become creepily consuming –
As paralysis and pain set in the cold blood running through me.
And every aspiration of accomplishments I dream
Are passing through my fingertips like dust into the breeze.
When all the toil, sweat and tears are all I have to show
Others what I’ve done down here it may come as quite a blow.
Like hurricanes and heavy rains following me around
As shadows in the dark of night don’t ever let me down.
When uncertainty is the surest thing and reality fast imploding –
And everything I knew before my eyes begins eroding.
The sun, moon, stars, streets, fast cars, family, friends and trees
Everything I took for granted from true love to deep blue seas.
Falling
deeper
Into fear letting go of all that’s clear
Something starts to shift inside I know not what, how or why.
All I know is Something good
Buoys me up like water does wood.
Floating ‘round still lost in foam but breathing all too well -
Waiting for a life rung to save me from my half-living hell.
Laughing loudly, playing wildly in the broken spell of pain
Thankful for another chance to watch the ocean turn to rain.
Body on the bed burns with fever.
Morning seems brighter, yellowish.
sunlight soaks my dirt-shrunk shirt.
A small page slips from a book,
written: "Take care of yourself."
Liquid gathers in the corners of the eyes.
That silent evening - "yes,"
a touch of her soft hand.
And tired legs roamed through a long day.
Two or three promises were counted
at day's end, the last rays of the sun faded.
Dusk creepily settles in dreamy eyes.
Thunder shudders my fragmented thoughts.
The curtain laps slothfully in a mild wind.
Raindrops drizzle, pattering outside -
Fresh pink petals stare from the green lawn.