Long Cringes Poems
Long Cringes Poems. Below are the most popular long Cringes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cringes poems by poem length and keyword.
Incensed Shadows
My silent quest for light through incensed shadows,
The first gift to creation by Omnipotent radiance,
Crusader seeks an astral beacon to rise above wooden rows
Unblocking healing springs of ambient deliverance.
Refraction’s womb, sunbeams float in puddles of colored glass
While all my harps on Babylon’s willow boughs lay silent
My regret cringes in deep twilight’s murkiest morass -
Out on a ledge, can’t face another sunrise to repent.
My harsh words cut into tenderness like sharpened curses
Then slashed their way to the guarded marrow of my bones
Bruised inflammation spills into unquenchable thirst
Escaping feathers in the wind left my heart abandoned - alone!
Breath of grace, this hermit’s plea to the cloudless eternal Word
Renew the clarity of my deafened eyes and blinded ears
Aura of the everlasting love - your renewal not blurred
I see with lacy joy when the joy of joy reborn appears.
Lo a rose now blooms in my winter’s frigid night
Appearing through my labyrinth with graceful union
Burnished solace in cherubic tinted twilight -
New perfumed dawn – gracious warmth - healing reunion.
12-16-20
Contest: A Rhyme Story
Sponsor Mystic Rose Rose
I had a father who loved two women:
one so faithful and sincere, the other
spell maker and always showed a defying grin.
no, nobody in that god-fearing town liked her!
And mom, the devoted one, hated her and hid her pain,
she bore him four pretty daughters and a handsome son
who picked beautiful cyclamens and dazzling roses,
and gave them to her with thrilling and smiling eyes!
I had a farther who loved two women,
his restless life had to be shared without compromise,
and the one who suffered was mom feeling the disgrace;
isn't betrayal a cruel and despicable sin?
Sweetest mother with lips that spoke gently,
and when they kissed me I tested honey...
spreading her tenderness beyond an earthly gladness;
most devoted mother, are you singing with all angels?
I had a father who loved two women,
one had nothing, the other had everything;
should an abused wife go on without crying?
Tears will roll down and resemble a fountain!
Mothers, unlikely fathers, are much closer to us
and their words linger on the waft of the warmest breath;
listen to them and you'll go far in life to achieve dreams:
their whisper is the gentlest breeze sent to earth!
I had a father who loved two women,
he ran out of the semi dark and silent house on starlit nights,
did he worry about his wife and children?
What does a guiltless cheater gain to pursue selfish desires?
If anytime bitterness cringes inside, tun to your beloved;
there's no better friend than a mother who feels loved,
but gives comfort to stop the grief built inside a lost soul:
restoring faith with her wisdom to keep loss of control!
Life is not a problem to be solved,
but a reality to be experienced.
~ Soren Kierkegaard
Is there a proper way to love
and to be loved?
My mother says yes, my sister says no,
my brother just shrugs and leaves the room.
He has things to do: wash the car, go shoot pool,
smoke a little weed out back.
His girlfriend says she doesn’t mind
as long as he pays the bills
he can go where he wants
and see who he wants to see.
Her mama cringes a little and says
as long as she is happy,
it’s not up to me.
My friend married a man thirty years older,
had a fling with a man thirty years younger,
now she is single and says she’s content
with her own company
although she does have
three dogs
and a cat.
Is there a proper way to love
and to be loved?
Do not ask me~
love is a mystery!
'Old Mother Twitchett had but one eye,
And a long tail which she let fly;
And every time she went through a gap,
A bit of her tail she left in a trap.'
Old Mother Twitchett' wasn't
always old,
A trap she left hoping someone
would fold.
She lived in a roof hole, for 200 years,
caged by her sister, 'Casket' who took
her shine.
Now in a castle surping lies with Jasmine
wine.
Old Mother Twitchett cringes in clay tears.
By midnight Old Mother Twitchett
would sing,
Whoever heard her eerie voice fell in a
spell ring.
"Be my favourite and be my mine,
Take this mask away and bend.
I in your place and you in blend.
That I may see my prince again divine."
A fairy girl who listened every night,
Lit her touch, held her friend - rug, tight.
They lived in a white bedsheet that roars,
Up the hills, down the valleys, they search,
Quaking and flying on branches, they perch.
Smoke from the roof, sounds from boars.
Old Mother Twitchett's eye was her mouth too,
Mr owl and Miss Mop Stick, her
voodoo.
Sight of Fairy and Rug on their flying sheet,
Moans and groans, another failed attempt.
It only was a tempting tempt.
Old mother twitchett' and crew hit the street.
"Halt now! Run not from me, I am
your help.
A portion I give, one drink and
a yelp."
Mother Twitchett gaze at her, looking for truth.
"And in return, I shall?" She asks.
"Only but a name is your task
In one I may find my roots
smooth."
Mother Twitchett' nods, lets her into the murky roof.
Cloud dances in orange, she sits in waiting
of proof.
"Hear me crystals of candle clathrate,
Let these crumbs of cinnamon Cark climb this ceiling.
Let the crumbling codes in this cabinet bring healing.
That she be herself and her twin this very state."
Dust in the air gilt yellow, twisting into
her nose.
Old mother twitchett' In levitation,
now Rose.
A ginger caramel latte with eyes and
mouth,
Only price paid was to eat her eye and
name a fairy,
Now a cherry, not Old Mother Twitchett who was scary.
No tails or traps, now with Mr. Duster in south.
We had relationships
They were never good
But we found each other
Forever and always
But what if you didn't come?
Will I be as happy as now?
Completely satisfied?
But my world will never revolve
without you in my life
Because there are many reasons
To say that you are the one
The one who gives me reasons
Plenty reasons to love you hard
Because you are the one
The one who patiently listens
The one who cringes
every time you see me
wearing my white sexy shirt
The one who never fails
To make me smile and know
what happiness means
The one who annoys me
every time you laugh at my mistakes
but you love my imperfections
from head to foot
The one who generously caresses me
every time we cuddle on bed
celebrating missing days
we lost because we need to
I could not imagine
If we have not met in our roads
There will never be us
Unhappy me
Still trapped in failed relationships
Never know what true love is
LeiStrauss2017
Dedicated to Robert Lindley. Warning this tale is dark.
THE DOVE
A bloody stain upon the sheets, how cruel!
Soulless weight of the wretched beast who’d rule.
With his bare paws and downward thrust he’d crush,
Rake over the virgin, ignore her blush.
Her pasty-skin, red eyes that swim, unloved.
With his scepter and crown he’d beat the dove.
Dainty wings he pinned, imprisoned her light.
Tall shadowed tower, the terror of night.
The wraithlike scream of his anger he’d wage,
She cringes and clings to the walls, her cage.
His mother the evil queen nods, approves.
Wears silken-black, her shoes - cloved hooves.
In the distance a kinder soul, he sees
Her vomitus-plight - sallow of her pleas.
Not to be tangled with when purpose hails,
He prepares the strongest steed, onward sails.
The King he mocks, “You jest! Stay out of it!”
The hero’s strength in eyes, in frock and grit
Unnerve his goliathlike flesh, it crawls.
He shakes off the warning, his voice it squalls
With a torrential force, thunder, lightning
plenipotentiary frightening
And this illuminated stranger dusts
Off his shoulder the dope’s dander, thrusts
A chivalrous blade, toys with this mouse-king.
Meanwhile the slice of a whip, witch sings
As she tears up the back of the princess.
The sadistic royal duo ceaseless.
The two-edged sword, the strike faithful and true,
Butchery of the cattle and his crew
Done with precision, with no time to waste.
In his vision, beheld the “beauty” chaste.
With his steed, he races upstairs, hooks whip,
Drags the witch to window, releases grip,
Throws his white robe over dove’s trodden flesh.
She forgets - her dwelling brand new and fresh.
Awakened to peaceful serenity.
Wears royal white, dove of infinity.
1/24/2020
I was to be in a film during the pandemic
To deliver a public service message
From a chair
Crew re-arranges the screws of the room
Seals the blinds and sets up equipment
Makeup lady approaches me
Surgical mask binding her face
I
Being the alleged subject
Unmasked
She bends down to me
Moves her face close to mine
As if she wants to kiss me
Her lustrous black hair piled to her shoulders
Eyes of Zana dark and enchanted
Re-arranging why I thought I was here
Head tilts to all my flaws
Hands hover and hesitate
Like I’m a crystal ball coming to focus
Mesmerizing eyes
Narrow
To find my lines
Thick eyebrows rise
Before conjuring in her mind
An acceptable face
From this
“Where are you from?” I ask
“Bosnia, my sweet.”
She says in a forest accent
I try to impress
“Your family brought you here from the war?”
She gives little hint
“Mmmm
Something yes like that.”
My face gets heavier with her colors and creams
“May I ask your name?”
“Merjem.”
“Beautiful.” I accidentally say out loud
My face cringes
I’ve caused her more work and trouble
Lifted from her pallet to this payday canvas
“Remain still.” She hushes
From behind her covered self-portrait
I think of candlelight dinners with her at midnight
At a downtown café in a cobblestone alley
Knee to knee under a white-clothed table
Old fairy books leather in our fingers
Devouring my poems
Hanging her paintings
She is wet to the cup of my lips
Toast of my hands
Those eyes
My only purpose for living
If only the mask could drop from her face
If only I was detached
If only we were 20 years ago
If only I was 30 pounds thinner
If only we weren’t all sick and scared
If only these microphones and cameras weren’t here
If only we could recall past lives
If only the end could begin anew
But I knew
I had always always loved her
Someday.
A dedication to my creative writing mentor Tom Foolery
The measuring cup was shattered
and lying all over the floor
It was an old pal,
for making tea of mine, through many days of many rainy seasons
It was never an easy feeling to register
you need help in your mirror, after all these days
Something is quite in-situ there, thinking that I am in need of it again for evermore.
I let her go,
an old pal is waiting for the floor to clean the space with neatness to go on.
As they sue an misunderstood brain, for vandalizing the face that is to be carved on the stone
I gifted her the soul
and I saw her blue eyed in pain, as a bottle cringes in pain, in a blindfolded loss
I simply reminded her,
it is okay to be imperfect, just let us float in, and you shall find my truth. Within.
Where I stayed and stayed and stayed for too long,
in the mere wish of a friend, for a life to be true, in thick and thin.
2021 was a good mourning...
but 2022 was so and so...
and 2023 is here marching in, once again!
Is it too late to catch up the show?
Hassan harbours hard-worn hardship in his heavy homeless heart
Drones dereliction devastation and dire disintegration of daring dreams
Dear daughter dead at dawn Delisiha demised dismembered decapitated
Harbingers of hell in heaven heaving with helter-skelter and hatred
Skinny skull surreal surrender to salvation and suffering’s solitude
His maimed mind meanders towards Mecca’ mid-morning mist
‘Mohammed my Master mould my misery to magic martyrdom’
‘Save seven sweet sexy sisters in the scope of sound sensual skies’
Balls brethren bequeathed by my baba for blasting those bastards
Ignorant infidels igniting incensed immeasurable invocation indeed
Bearing the bellicose burden and berated by birth belittled and bold
The courageous courier of comatose carnage carefully counts the cost
Captured in the Caliphate contorted in a crowded catacomb he cringes
Waterboarding washes over the waning warrior’s wasted wreckage
Hassan hopes helplessly for humerus and hips to heal in good humour
GI Graysen giggles and generates generous gifts of guts and glorious gore
Considerate Conclusions
Chains have cantankerous consequences
Brave balls from Baghdad bear the baton
Guts and gore guarantee Guantanamo
Victory is vile vindictive and vicious
18th April 2019
If a barber passes a bald guy on the street
There's a look of distain on his face
Sees him walking totally upright on two feet
But clearly not of the human race
If a doctor passes an athlete on a track
There is instant contempt in his eyes
This dude is putting his practice in jeopardy
What if we were all as fit as this guy
A shoe salesman meets a guy in the park
Wearing battered beat up old runners
The salesman has instant dislike for this loser
This down and out no good bummer
If a broker watches a guy blowing his dough
On a big pile of electronic stuff
Which in six months time will be out of date
The money guy cringes and huffs
If a starlet is making an extremely big splash
Stars who've been around for years
Will try to discredit this shining new star
Hoping to send her packing in tears
© Jack Ellison 2013