Long Crushing Poems
Long Crushing Poems. Below are the most popular long Crushing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crushing poems by poem length and keyword.
Where has that joy source gone
the one I thought was infinite
taken for granted
dried up like youth
One shovelful of dirt after another
one disappointment too many
finally crushing that little joyful kid inside
as if casually extinguishing
nothing more than a campfire
Why should joy and hope be so threatening
to these stubborn people with their big feet
wielding their power just being mean
I want to leave this world where it’s a sport
for big people to crush the little ones
I want to move and live among gentler folk
the ones who need to live their joy
have ambitions and aren’t afraid to smile
I want to wear my hopes and speak my dreams
I want to move and live in a world
where all the little people go around free
spreading wide the wings of their big soul
AP: 2nd place 2020
A dense dusk slots
in-between two tall buildings.
Just moments ago
the busy road was in full flight
now it growls low like a wounded beast
we hardly can hear it.
When dark descends like this
dragging an intangible gravity of loss
down upon us
we all get folded inwards.
Just moments ago the city
bustled along
blinking like a pinball machine
now only an electric fizz
offer us its neon-lit sight.
This eventide was crushing
it rolled up the dying day before it.
I take your hand in mine
lead you to a room behind a room
where people drink red wine and recite poetry
about the light and the dark.
Your lips look bruised
as if the crumpling daylight
had painted them
this muted shade of sorrow.
My life faced tormenting time with future at stake,
writhed in the crushing clutch of stifling suffering,
my bequeathed heart splintered and bled in yearning ache,
no soothing arms I found reach out to me to cling.
In rough sea my boat sank in storm of agony,
for shelter I tried to swim to shore not in sight,
the inner voice told me to get detached and see
the rays of hope like the sun after the dark night.
From my heart a butterfly flew on latticed wings,
in rippling air it flittered on trail of sun ray
to the vale of rose blooming with sparkle of spring
under azure sky opening from gloom of grey.
I sensed sublime serenity suffuse my core,
my soul opened divine petals in deep abyss,
tranquility like summer rain began to pour
in my calm mind with surreal shower of bliss.
_____________________
December 11, 2021
Syllable count checked on HMS
Contest :"A" Forms, New Poems
Sponsor : Constance La France
GAME OVER
He had taught me –
sports as a metaphor-
for life.
The inside fastball was coming -
I knew it!!!
but couldn’t get out of the way.
Damn!!! It sent me crumbling -
painfully writhing –
stifling a curse.
The pass rush was coming –
I could feel it!!!
Crushing me as the ball slid from my hand.
I lay face down – painfully aware –
of the mud and grass -
muttering a curse.
The end was coming –
it was inevitable –
life’s time clock running out.
I stood weeping –
as the lights went out –
cursing in the dark.
He had endured –
honored life’s field –
left it better for his having played.
John G. Lawless
12/16/2015
The hands let go with a cracking sound
Whipping our Smith to the glowing ground
Bouncing and wobbling his jiggly joints
Green swirls into Red, boiling patches into points
The Machine retracts and swallows its hands
Coiling deep inside its rickety glands
No gagging, no cough, just a calm ritual
To pull out a key, almost entirely habitual
It holds its key in between fingers
And looks at our Smith that unwillingly lingers
"We are going up, no matter what you want
The door to the Vineyard, my current haunt"
Our Smith rises, and slithers up the path
Not wishing to incur the Machine's promised wrath
"It HaS BeEn A wHiLe SiNcE i'Ve BeEn GuIdEd
.....I'vE nEvEr ReCalLeD, oNlY aBiDeD?"
The Machine catches up and scans without warn
Our Smith jumps and wriggles with scorn
"No Smith should be able to think without Star
You are able for now, but stop acting bizarre"
Blotches burn his burns, twice smouldered
Our Smith knows his place and continues, bolstered
He upwardly stumbles, until he smacks into a mesh
A crosshatch door, laced with flickers of flesh
"Now, stand aside, fallen Smith of mine
I must open the way, so stand by that sign"
The Machine takes its key and finds a lock
No time wasted, it removes the block
The door unfastens itself from the clasp
Creaking open, with a gut-wrenching gasp
The flesh on the mesh fall in lumpy piles
Casting rainbow hues on the muddied Pink tiles
"WhAt HaPpEnEd To My FrIeNdS, MaChInE?
WhY cAn'T tHeY fOrM, eNgAgE iN rOuTiNe?"
The hands come again, instantaneous and fierce
Planting our Smith beside the Elevator's smears
The hands hold our Smith's stomach, gurgling
Pressing, tightly, bending inwards, hurting
Crunching bubbling boils in his body
Crushing thoughts of anything godly
........................................
Our Smith loses the energy to stay alert
As the crosshatch contraption ascends overt.
Terrifying tumultuous tremendous traumatic transaction
Horror in the towering splashes of ocean in howl
The vigilant lighthouse pounded by the surfs of annihilation
The huge and awful sea right now is on the untamed prowl
The shivering cold wind around the angry eyes of the hurricane
Has ruthlessly dispersed the deep waters in the ocean
Even dignity of the lighthouse is hit by the water insane
Before the surging rage of the waters in commotion
Do you listen to the roaring sea and crushing waves pounding the shores
Nothing else is visible nothing else is audible
Still don’t lose heart and look at the glistening hopes of the trusted doors
There the lofty lighthouse looks almost imperishable
This way nature heaves suddenly a deep sigh of suppressed grief
In these mad and angry growl of wild wind acts out nature
By ventilating its pent up anger it earns catharsis
From dark to light is the nature’s optimistic feature
_____________________________________________________________________
April 10, 2016
For the Poetry Contest : Sentinel Quatrain Form
Hosted by : Eve Roper
The poet is a physician of sorts
tending care to the physical
of his craft -- His patients, the
hearts and souls of humanity --
Latching belts on sleds of words
a-summit he descends, precariously
no safe tracks when in lyric free-fall
Altitudes and scathing depths
are the wails and screeches of
his siren journey down -- when and
where, a dicey pit travel...critics
offer no parachutes...and his lovers
often unavailable, amending their
own wrong steps. Can a writer really make
it safely to the other side, through the creative
pressures of ever revolving mantles and imperative
crushing cores!?
people pushing boundaries all around me all through my life
Evil crushing down on me resoundingly causing me strife
One day I’ll strike and it will not be nice
Flip to survive and I’ll be cold as ice
When nothing good happens and nothing goes right, nobody’s loyal nobody’s on my side, I’ll be the extreme unreasonably mean, make people feel how I feel in me, I cared about people before, I don’t care anymore, I’d rather inflict pain and go all out at war, it drives me insane and I’m done for sure, psychological manipulation makes me over the top, if I flip out and lose it I will never stop, they turned a people person into the worst one, this person has become an evil version, liars get on my nerves when they lie at my expense and I let it go so I’m living life tense, what is the point in this life I’m living, people have taken all I have given, if I wasn’t so numb i know I’d be dangerous, the monster inside wants to entertain us, depression that numbs is the only weapon, if it wears off I’ll do more than just threaten, I’ll probably do things that I regret but the joy that they give I’ll never forget, two sides of me stuck in contradiction and I’m sick to death of this inner confliction where I should be good but no good comes to me, how am I supposed to keep my sanity, when I go psycho I’ll lose all control may god have mercy on this broken soul!
Missirio Mannex Milton
" the best ever"
And
"The FargoCity Groove"
Stamble Prancer
Verses
" Mondaynight" Mr. Embry Chirro
And
The World Famous
Trimble " The Trubalyst" Stallfoux
Ended in a double d'q
When " Discuss " Mach Bissey interfered
Pummeling both members of both teams
With a folding chair.
"The master of the Simion Suouxpli "
Dizzy Kettlier Shumlaumb
Out wrested
Naff Daun Rico
In a 20 minute spectacle
Prettier Dungledant faced Theniss Love
In a one on one
Classic
Resulting in a pinfall
By Love at 37:59
"The Hilltop Heavyweight" and The Narrowminded Fool
Battled
Shines Cupid and Whatta Mann Warwick
In a Cattle Cove Strap match
Both teams agreed to wear the straps around the waist
It ended with the Hilltop Heavyweight splashing
Shine Cupid for the victory.
Big Basketball and Denzy Valintino
Provided the entertainment
In a fysta_fall submission match
Validation used a Doormens Clasp
To gain victory
World Champion
" Her Next Man" Oscar Hoowittiz
Faced
" The Grimmy Gritt"
Danny Bob Van Winkle
They grappled like amateurs
Until Grimmy started using
A lacker_side headlock
Which the World champion
Escaped with a side sulto
Followed by a crushing leg drip
That allowed the champion
To attempt a pin
At 22:22 Grimmy sought
Offense following
A failed clothesline attempt
In the corner caught the Champ off track
And was able to follow up
With a duplex
A regular duplex made
Grammy
The World Champion
The fans started cheering
Grimmy he grabbed the
Microphone
And started saying
"Stop liking me"!
Once crashed the waves in tempest’s storm,
and blew the wind as sails were torn.
Once drove the rain against frozen skin
as darkness took the vessel in.
Once void of any hope at all,
trapped deep inside the prison’s wall,
beneath the crushing weight of lead
but faintest light shown from ahead.
Then in a moment, skies were clear
and ocean’s calm dispelled the fear.
It seemed blue skies meant all is well.
The storm has past now mend the sail.
So gave I way to those who care,
and bent the knee and found what’s there -
pure wine upon the lees in hand
and from it, strength to make a stand.
But drifting time brought slumber’s sleep
as wind reversed across the deep.
Blue sky gave way to churning black.
Nowhere to go, no turning back.
For little deeds allowed back in
like seeds of tares took root again
and oh, how fast the vines did grow.
And I had nowhere left to go.
Once back again in tempest’s hold.
Now worse the winds, now worse the cold.
The brief blue sky and radiant warm…
was only the eye of the storm.