Long Crumple Poems
Long Crumple Poems. Below are the most popular long Crumple by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crumple poems by poem length and keyword.
I am the writer that you think I am
Sad words written on a lonely page sporadically through a sleepless night
Alike to
Tasty words poored out like savored wine that was aged for the same occasion
I don't like to drink alone
Cheers
I write to do battle with my demons
Like an army collapsing upon itself fighting for power
The speeches given by the soldiers in my head are screamed the loudest
But those angry words fall to the ground
And they are trampled on
Back space or crumple
It's a civil war that needed to be fought
When I write I find myself
I look amongst the ruins, focusing only on the first fire I need to survive the night
Slim hope made fat by a narcissitic design
And I am warm
I write because I believe that even the human race in itself was a heart felt expression
All of us have a spark of life more valuable then the flesh and bones around us
The sun, the moon and the stars
The waters, the food we eat, and the air we breathe were all made to cradle this creation of me
Of you
And we are a creative species ourselves
Gravity is not a prison
But where else would we go?
Telescopes as far as the robotic eye can see!
And have we seen a better more beautiful world?
We go to the moon and even send machines to Mars
We bring back rocks as dead as the blackness that goes on forever
It makes me think we are favored here
On earth a vibrant sun is rising non-stop
A flower blooming with only hints to the growing masterpiece
The sun is setting somewhere else upon calm waters
A bird has sensed it is his last flight south
And time slows down
The season greets him with open doors that never close
He feels every feather he ever had and remembers everything he ever saw
He leaves with a song on his lips that still gets sung to the first dawn that finds him missing
I write because I can take the world and see what I want to see
All across the surface of this place there are many spheres of life
For every set of eyes that digest the same one
There is different music to every ear that interprets the same song
And a differrent ground to walk on for every foot that treads the same path
It is true a picture can say a thousand words,
But I still want to say them
And so I write
Some days my mother and I don’t speak,
We’ll pass each other in the hallway,
and
we will pretend that we are on good terms.
The hallway wallpaper is torn up – white flowers,
stubbornly clinging to the wall,
even with those damaged petals and all those ugly stalks.
The Blonde-haired therapist asks about Her, and I don’t hear.
Instead, I tell her (this therapist, never my mother) about my rage – all man made,
organic and rotting in this big body of mine.
I didn’t rip the wallpaper mum, I only thought about it.
Once She asked me why I didn’t kill myself right,
I… didn’t have an answer then.
But I think I do now.
I never really wanted to cease, only to escape,
Made aware by memories of fleeing reality, unwillingly.
I bid myself to stay, and she never listens,
Is this how it’s going to be forever?
Do I have to keep burying the daughter I could’ve been?
Shovelling dirt while she speaks in my ear?
Scolding me for not eating well, or sleeping too little,
We are an amalgamation of pain,
playing relay with love
and racing against the clock.
There are too many she’s in this poem.
She gave us life, giving birth in the light,
But she endured so we could survive, hidden away inside.
I don’t remember all the awful things my mum’s done, only that She did them,
How long can I hold this anger for?
Some days I want to demand she apologise, most days I just cry.
I’ve never been hospitalised, only ached for it in this god-awful room.
When the noose calls, we almost crumple,
(Almost isn’t an ego thing, we’re all subservient to death,)
Until I think of Her again. But She’s burying me this time – clutching the dress I never wore,
weeping into a crumpled tissue. Did She even know my name?
How hard could it be on a beautiful Saturday?
Brian calls us, “Hurry up. They are taking Dad to the hospital.”
Brian meets me at the door, ”Dad didn't make it.”
I scream, “Oh my God.” I crumple into a ball just outside the hospital door.
I yell, “Why, my God, why, my Dad?” I turned purple (that's what Brian said.)
I compose myself; I get up and we walk into that little room.
How hard could it be to say goodbye to my heart?
He's lying there, a tube sticking out of his mouth.
I touch him, still warm, I say, “I'll miss you.”
They leave, I turn back, I touch him, still warm, I say,
“I love you a million.” I walk out, tough as nails, quaking on the inside.
In my head I hear, “You can do it Den.” I feel a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
How hard can it be to bury my Dad?
Sunday, we all meet at mom's, we talk, we hug, we cry.
Monday, we all meet at mom's; we talk, we hug, we cry.
Tuesday, the wakes, double dread. I stand there, tough as nails, quaking on the
inside. “You can do it,” he says to me.
Wednesday, the funeral, all the flowers, over 280 people saying goodbye to my
Dad. I hear him still, “You can do it.”
Thursday, I sit here writing this poem, tears run down my face. “You can do it,”
he is saying to me.
Friday, we will bury my Dad's ashes; a copy of this will be put in that little
wooden house-shaped box. We will cry; I know it. His spirit will surround us
with his love. He'll give us all hugs and kisses all around.
How hard can it be to go on?
“My God, Jesus, please help me.”
I hear Jesus saying, “Trust in me and your burdens will be lifted.”
“Dad, why did you leave us so soon?”
I hear Dad saying,” It was my time and I was ready to go home. Don't cry for me.
Celebrate my life and have a party. I will always be sitting next to you, Den. You
can do it.” Hugs and kisses all around.
Thank you, Jesus, my heavenly father. I trust in you and praise your name.
And thank you Dad for your unconditional love,unselfish support and your
heartfelt hugs and kisses. I`ll be okay. See you soon. I love you.
It’s over! Is your last sentence and final sentence.
You accused me of pushing you through the edges
Every time you’re giving up, I make a new entrance
Every steps closer is ruined by a thousand wedges
To remove my skeletons you need a stronger dredge
You tired of trying and overlooking my hawthorn hedge
In my vulnerability my guards are up or so you allege
My impenetrable walls constantly keep you up at night
You are done and you refuse to do one more pledge
You said it: the grasp of my past still hold me tight
Your eyes and your kisses melt away my prudence
Each touch makes me want to skip too many bridges
All these walls built for a better and stronger resistance
Your wit lightened my days and remove my trudges
Your smile lessen pains that I have yet to acknowledge
In your arms there's no doubt and no unwanted gledge
Your heat consumed me but don’t remove my privilege
Yet every time you step too close to my heart, I flight
Even when I know the pain instilled cut like razor-edge
Yes again: the grasp of my past is still a stronger fright
I have experienced the youthful and joyful exuberance
The blissful impudence pushing to take on Everest’s ridges
I’ve repeatedly been through the high of new romance
It always ended up in dysfunctional and painful smidges.
Each time my heart is abandoned like a broken sledge
So I can’t stop wondering if that soul willingly impledged
Isn’t a phantom of my past pushing me over one more ledge
For I have met you in another pretty face and amazing sight
But I was left with pain and unhealable scars, I acknowledge
You are right: the wounds of my past sill hold me in affright.
I can’t promise a better tomorrow without yesterday’s edge
I can’t crumple the walls that have worked to my advantage
But if you take me through the steps I’ll make it thru the night
I’ll follow your lead step by step, I know you and I can manage
Maybe the love in your eyes is enough to bring me to daylight.
Awake, ye sleepy, coop-bound souls!
Unbutton your boredom, unfasten your goals!
For glory’s not found in the stiff upper sash—
It lives in the squelch of the Chicken Splash.
With feathers all fluffed like a powdered wig,
She struts like a duchess who’s learned how to jig.
A dip of the beak, a dramatic small sneeze—
Then ker-splash! She dives in with elegance and ease.
No need for a ballroom or velvet-toned glee,
She’s a duchess of dirt, and she’s waltzing with glee.
Each puddle’s a portal, a glittering gate,
To a world where the serious show up too late.
She twirls through the mud with flippant finesse,
In a gown of good humour and splatter-spun dress.
Each droplet’s a diamond, each slosh is a cheer—
An anthem of nonsense the wise long to hear.
It’s not just a dance, it’s a radical creed,
A declaration of joy over sensible speed.
Why march through your life with a stiff, tidy plan,
When a squishy detour says more than a man?
The cows may look on with a snobbish moo,
But what have they done that was daring or new?
The hens, though—they giggle, they copy, they dash,
They’ve all found their truth in the Chicken Splash.
A duck may protest, “But we’re made for the wet!”
She replies with a wink, “Ah, but we have regret!”
For puddles, you see, aren’t just soggy terrain—
They’re places where boredom is washed down the drain.
She leaps like a question that’s yet to be asked,
With purpose disguised in the goofily masked.
She’s Plato in wellies, she’s Nietzsche in fluff,
She’s telling the cosmos, enough is enough!
So scribble your worries, then crumple the sheet—
Come paddle with passion, get mud on your feet.
For life isn’t tidy, nor meant to be brash—
It’s a puddle of promise, a Chicken Splash!
And when you grow old, with your spectacles tight,
And you tell little stories by soft firelight,
Don’t boast of your trophies or accounts full of cash—
Tell them, “Once, I dared do the Chicken Splash.”
WE SHALL NOT BE MOVED
We have overcome through the blood by the almighty
Son of Christ who came and died for us all on the cross
To pay for all sins of this world giving us hope for the future
to make change to rid the negative and to toss
The devil out of our wake as he was defeated long ago
he has no power over God's people to twist our mind
Nothing can move us out of the direction or path we go
through our lives let our salvation give us hope to find
A positive future for all people for God's watching us friends
with Him no demon or devil could ever block our way
Nor any followers of the wicked or smoke blowers with fumes
stay alert and focused for soon will arrive His coming day
Those who are followers of the wicked you can never halt
the movement of God's people who are working as a team
Dressed in the armor that God has given us to wear
to shake the wicked to the fullest depth and extreme
No barriers will hold me, no darkness will take me under
nothing will consume me for I came with a voice to break
Through the violence of this world, hatred from persecutors
I won't give the evil force of this world nothing to take
Let us rejoice together friends, let us speak out to all people
who are lost in the wilderness with no light always sightless
For great blessings belong to those who change their ways
for God has claimed you cleansed you making you righteous
Those who don't believe in change of a person who has struggled
is a fool of the devil blinded by nothing but darkness who bring
Nothing in their wake as they walk with pride with believed perfection
those who are bound by evil will lose not some but everything
We shall not be moved, we shall walk forward in unity friends
for God's army can't be defeated by nothing in this land
For the devil has no ground nor do any of his followers
who God when He returns will simply crumple to sand.
Written By: Joseph D. Boca
Verse 1:
I was once a whisper, light on your tongue,
A gentle hum, a soft song to be sung.
But like the fray of ink, fading with time,
I fell from grace as you lost your mind.
Your fingers once tender, tracing my lines,
Now calloused and tired, no longer entwined.
A thought you had, now lost in the folds,
A burden too heavy, a story too old.
Chorus:
I'm just a draft, discarded and torn,
A melody you no longer mourn.
Fading away, a word left behind,
A broken thought that slipped through your mind.
I was a song you forgot how to sing—
Now I'm nothing, just a fading thing.
Verse 2:
In the margins, I bled a silent plea,
But your eyes had grown distant, no longer to see.
Just words, unworthy of love,
Tangled in dreams you no longer thought of.
The crumple of paper, a lover’s last sigh,
A fleeting thought you were ready to deny.
You held me once, but I was a chore,
Each line you rewrote felt more like a bore.
Chorus:
I'm just a draft, discarded and torn,
A melody you no longer mourn.
Fading away, a word left behind,
A broken thought that slipped through your mind.
I was a song you forgot how to sing—
Now I'm nothing, just a fading thing.
Bridge (Despair):
But the ache—oh, the ache still remains,
In the hollow of silence, in the sting of the pain.
You never saw me, not once, not ever,
A ghost of your thoughts, just fading forever.
I scream in the quiet, but you’ve turned away,
I’m just a wreck, a shadow of yesterday.
Chorus (reprise):
I'm just a draft, discarded and torn,
A melody you no longer mourn.
Fading away, a word left behind,
A broken thought that slipped through your mind.
I was a song you forgot how to sing—
Now I'm nothing, just a fading thing.
Outro (whispered):
Just a line unfinished, a thought lost in time—
A poem that never reached its rhyme.
A silent wreck… my slow, silent death.
Fading away... until there’s nothing left.
I woke one morning feeling something wasn’t right
Something went missing dead in the night
I searched my closets and night chest
Went through every drawer of that old wooden desk
But nothing was missing nothing at all
Not my 75-inch flat screen or anything small.
Then I realized it was part of my soul
and in its place laid a large empty hole
I tried to tape it up & I also used glue
Eventually knowing that nothing would do.
Soon I needed a GPS to make it through the day
some type of guidance, for I couldn’t find my own way
I forgot how to dance and sometimes I stumbled
My life was going down and starting to crumple.
People asked had I lost weight or did I cut my hair
A piece of my soul was missing & it just wasn’t fair.
I felt my spirit fading and wasn’t going to last
I had to find that part of me, really fast.
I scanned facebook and inquired on twitter
checked ebay if my soul went to the highest bidder.
Then soon after that, someone stole my heart
Was this some conspiracy that I wasn’t apart?
For days I tried to find it in every face I meant
but all that left me with was dismay and regret.
Finally, I remembered the man who had my heart last,
so, I hopped in my truck and I drove very fast.
I abruptly kicked in his door and demanded it back
and threatened his dog if it tried to attack.
The man passionately told he didn’t want to let it go
he kept it close to his heart if I needed to know.
I asked him if he had that part of my soul as well
Just my heart was all he could tell.
He kissed me so gently and held me tight
we loved over and over until the morning light.
The next day he promised he’d help me find my soul
Find that piece that would make me whole
I breathed a sigh of relief as I felt no harm
finding myself in this man’s arms.
It was the first time in weeks I felt no dread
So, I patted his dog and we went back to bed.
I often see you falling into the depths of that silly word, made to torment and pleasure,
catching us and squeezing until there is nothing left, the snake with its prey
Love how deceiving it can be. Your deliberate steps toward that jagged edge, bare foot
and bleeding, I know that I must brace myself. So high as you imagine your whole world
centered on him whichever him it is this time. Like a drug you crave I know I should not
let you go, but yet I can’t stop myself from giving you the needle, I might as well be
piercing your cold white skin myself, marking you yet knowing that reality needs to be
set. How can I not when I have seen you crumple in fear and die within yourself over and
over? How can I not when after so many falls you keep picking yourself up again and
somehow finding a way to move on? How can I ignore your scars, your pleas for reassurance
of this new conquest? You are my sister; we have shared lives and secrets so deep within
ourselves that we thought we’d never resurface. I know your deepest fears and sorrows,
those moments of pain I was always there. And now I see another climax in the turbulence
of the life you’ve chosen. I see the signs all over again and I know that the chances are
few and more often than not love is killed in the battle. And yet I can not tell you so.
I can not cut you down when you have made it so high, each branch you climb steeper than
the rest. I wish I could spare you of the sorrows and inevitable sting when we clean the
wounds. Still I find myself standing numb as you approach that edge, shouting under my
breath as I struggle to keep you safe, yet still unmovable, this paralysis proving to be
my ultimate downfall. But when the ground comes rushing up, the body raw and broken, we
will pick up the pieces of your mind and soul, together no matter how many cliffs we summit.
Form:
Celebration of Las Animas
The shadows know
When I shout into the void
Of obsession’s chaos that swallows even darkness,
Fractured light in jaundiced eyes,
Where withering blasts of winter hibernate in masquerades,
Promises lay in crumpled thoughts of raging anxieties
To crumple wings stilled by grief’s passages
Of flawed conscience.
My gentle shepherd, who walks in the brittle solstice garden,
Whispers to this stubborn lamb of irrepressible forgiveness
With healing that unites a divided soul chasing eulogy
To float upon the flowing tide, the River Agape,
Dewdrops of compassion in solitude’s metamorphosis -
Ebony’s iris nightfall – weave an arras in twilight’s hush
Where scented leaves of solitude and grace
Celebrate in welcomed cleansing wind and fire.
Released from perfectionism’s chains by perfect perfection,
Through radiating renewal on the Samaritan’s road,
Solitude’s incense from ash groves inhales metamorphosis,
Seasoned with the breath of mercy in shadowy first light
As dawn quietly peeks through the pink blush of epiphany,
Leaves behind ominous – footsteps of midnight –
Sweeping away bittersweet thunderheads on stone spires -
Finale of my seclusion.
In preludes to all things bright and wonderful
Rebirth, renewal, tethers me to new psalms
Scrubbing clean overgrown graffiti on my woodland wall
New anima stretches out in one moment of time and space
Navigating unexplored islands in the broiling stream
By argent rainbows in cornucopia’s of charity
To untangle knots of errant threads through life’s keepsake tapestry
Eternal Emmanuel, radiant message, face of amazing grace.
2-24-22
Contest: Form F – Free Verse
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Life
Animas means life – communication of the spirit with the subconscious.