Long Cutting Poems
Long Cutting Poems. Below are the most popular long Cutting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cutting poems by poem length and keyword.
ANSWERED PRAYERS
Crisp cutting edges are river aging...
Dusts, gossamer embracing carves and mounds.
All around unchanged.
Solely, the wind curtains flow.
Seems, they are the only one engaging.
Have I step to an antique ground?
Waiting...
waiting... waiting
and wailing ....
When...
Somebody,
please tell me when?
I am begging ....
will someone show me when...
There are no signs, neither gleaming-clues
Hence, I am left in bloom buzzing blues
I look to reach stars spraying a lace of shine.
Lo! The moon moaning a veil of mystique fine.
Evenings are waterfall silently playing lyre.
Arousing my soul's delight to set afire
A singer or poetess booze longing to inspire
The stillness bares inner recesses well
where spirits ready to compel and swell.
There's no one else: Just you and me: my God.
On bended knees, naked from any trace of pretense
Humbly, I am opening my life to Your Holy presence.
Sweet, Oh so sweet, You extend Your loving hand.
No second thoughts, no hesitations.
Willingly, You extend to tenderly understand.
Snares and torn slowly, Oh so slowly you prune,
lightening every weighing doubts and fears.
Long forgotten prayers are answered,
timely hatched from insanity shell..
Golden ripe for prosperous harvest.
Yielding much beyond the mind calculation.
Evermore daring and bold in exhortation.
Sweet, oh so sweet, my Lord and my King.
It's worth to faithfully wait for Your perfect timing.
Now, Your promises have been falling to right places.
Kneeling down today and tomorrow thanking You...
I keep my trust wholly in the power of Your Hands...
__________________________________________
(c)
2:27am
August 03, 2014
inspired by the
verse: Matthew
6:33
The wild night awakens from the dream of an imploding inferno,
Stretching lazily, with tangled strands like waves of darkness,
Tossing aside the serene blankets of the full golden winter moon,
To dance barefoot on frozen floors, like a lost silhouette.
Stumbling over morning's remnants, where thoughts like shards,
Crumpled and cold, cling to naked windows, dressed in bareness,
Shivering, the night listens as hungry fangs jangle bells,
While gusts of darkness ravage the cradles of forgotten dreams.
Gnawing the jaws of desolate dreamscapes, thoughts rush in,
Through obsessive loops of the mind, amid inescapable storms,
Where night huddles, adorned with fixations and grotesque graffiti,
Despair masquerades as cyclones of deception, mania as solutions.
Whispers of wind, earworms, are born from the cold silence,
Intercepting the celestial voice, cutting painfully into the sky's heart,
While angels' blood stains the doves of their white flight,
Anxiety floods in torrential rains, as hours writhe in noise.
The wild night wanders through midnight, caught by hurried tornados,
Eagerly awaiting the first light of resurrection, a promised miracle,
A sunrise of lost tranquility, like a promise of peace and solace,
And light to pierce the darkness, like a dream of rediscovered hope.
another typical day, with feet on the ground
ordering the hedge to meet my image of trim
many measured bits fall before the cutting edge
casual thoughts detach, is there anybody in ?
then some mental inner disturbance jangles
with corresponding jig, nerves rip in deeper
following the run of a stalk, the hang of a sprig
so prune the untidy and unwelcome creeper
movement to the side of my eye is caught
something is scared, behind dense vegetation
the fast beating breast of a baby brown bird
frantic flutter flash, demented aggravation
descends to the pavement in fear driven escape
panic ruptures in flood from a half sliced-off wing
chest partly open, feathers flecked red with blood
cupped warm in my hand, young life does cling
grim realisation, fledgling with no hope
pressure leaking, ebbing from a dying heart
but then our eyes meet, answers it is seeking
where's my mum, when can my flying lessons start?'
the deed is now done, the light that shone has gone out
just the salt of my tears at this horrible juncture
the killing of one hundred and fifty million years
and this clumsy ape's evolutionary puncture
undiluted guilt, too much concentration to bear
to forgive and assuage, soothing rational thought
replacement anger and even more depressing rage
bombs target children when careless wars are fought
imagine that child, in screaming terrified terror
in mortal trouble, reduced to core instinct base
an external world has turned your home into rubble
where's my mum, why can't I see her familiar face?'
Dear mother nature you're supposed
to make the world a good place to be in
Today the sky had hues of orange
Life begins every day when the sun arises
Mixed with the fire's toast
drinking of daylight
Nature's wonderful respect for darkness
A moon shared the sky
And you will never feel disappointed
To be born again off you
with the sun setting
Dipping down golden over mountains
Like a soul lost awaiting to be found
A slim narrow smile pearly shines
Awaiting with anticipation
Night closing in as twilight holds a dream
The master's at work
the divinity of a deity
Whispers of a breeze through fir trees
Rusting branches sway dancing freely
Surely created a deep impression inside me
Life begins every day
when the sun takes center stage
A sharp cutting breath hits home
Diamond cutting thoughts invade
Sailing away into another world
The moon and the stars come out in full force
Sharing a daydream as the night closes in
Your eyes carry the sun peaking through the clouds
Destiny living and breathing the same air
Until bliss becomes your daily drink
Anne-Lise Andresen, and Liam Mc Daid
A Collaborated Poem
The pain is too much,
I can’t take it anymore,
It makes me want to fall,
Straight through the floor.
I’ve held it inside me,
For far too long,
I’m tired of being told,
That everything I do is wrong.
The first time was an accident,
But I’ll do it again,
Even though I know,
Cutting is a sin.
I hold the blade in my hand,
Swipe it across my skin,
I see the blood come pouring out,
I think I found a new friend.
You may not believe me,
But I don’t feel the pain,
Even though the blood,
Pours like the rain.
When I see the blood,
Coming from the cut,
I feel the pain leaving,
For my eyes are now shut.
I finally found something,
I can control,
I know when to stop,
I control the flow.
When the blood leaves me,
Other things do as well,
The pain and heartache,
There’s no more to tell.
We sat in the fallout
of last year’s gift exchange—
smashed angel centerpiece
taped back together
as good as a rogue bomb
if someone mentioned it.
Our voices dragged
like anchors through an ocean—
low, cold, summoning something
older than Kris Kringle.
I strained to recall
a time when it wasn’t like this.
The kitchen table—
a battleship, whipped tension
and potatoes. Dad’s knife slipped
once, then twice. Mammaw clutched
her rosary, counting sins like beads
of gravy on the drop-cloth. The whiskey
isn’t worth your soul, she whispered.
Our air was burned sugar—
a water pie, depression-era relic
left too long in the oven.
As they say, it’s the ingredients you have
that bake the cake.
Mom whispered, Let’s just get through it.
The corners of her mouth disappeared—
I knew better.
When my sister reached for a biscuit,
I grabbed her wrist—too hard.
Mine, I hissed. The room turned
quiet, the kind of silence snow wears
before an avalanche.
By sunset,
half of us were crying—
over the ruined pie,
or the family tree
we couldn’t stop cutting down.
When I reimagine it—
and I always do—
I don’t erase or the snowfall
or the tension.
Instead, I break the bread
without a flinch,
leave my sister’s wrist unmarked.
Dad’s carving hand steadies,
and in my version,
we get grandma drunk—
the old broad needed to lighten up.
The angel still shatters—
but this time we laugh,
our elbows knocking it over
reaching for seconds.
In the end, we huddle closer,
ash still falling, we celebrate
cold on the other side of the door.
Our hands stay sticky, glue healing
the angel’s cracked wings,
sugar crystallizing our fingerprints—
we press lightly, only to test for doneness,
we are patient,
we watch as snow smothers our wreckage—
call it DNA, an elegy.
Nature
I love nature as much as the next person
In fact you may find me out in the garden
At least once a month
Looking at stuff
And smelling stuff
And other nature like stuff
Mainly cutting and cleaning
Due to spousal obligation or exploitation
Depends on whose side your on
I digress
It was a beautiful English spring day
Those Grey clouds really do lift ones spirit
And the drizzle combined with the electrical cable's
Positively Electrifying
Anyway
I was cutting the grass last Saturday
And 1 of those massive bumble bee's got stuck under my flip flop and stung me
Mother Chucker
That hurts
But like a true proffesional I carried on regardless
Poor Mower probably didn't even know I had taken a massive hit and was man down
But now sitting here in accident & emergency
With 3 feet
1 left foot
2 right feet
This doesn't seem as funny
Because it is now costing me money
I am Sphinx Stone, Sun stationed statue
silent sculptured synoptic, not marble or
granite nor black tourmaline or crystal
timelines cutting cross my magnetic
magenta miracle to dissipate in dry
desert winds, my gaze unmoved
as quizzing quantum queens swirl
around a Blue Planet ascending
Sphinx Stone gathering goddess’ goodness
whilst slippery Sophi-el sprinkle sparkle
Nile evaporations down Sumerian
phantom phœnix photons
here I stare broken-nosed across vast
expansions exiting or entering dual
portal claws hot rooted into Violet Flames
of Mother Earth belying my etheric origins
Did Leo descend from helium heavens
painstakingly perfect from His tumultuous
gut with goblets of gold, goblins gyrating ?
ask you may North African secrets slither
no soiled sounds to simmer in sandy
storms or scarlet sunsets spreading
spells, silence my singular speech to
skulls of pharaohs or peasant alike
I am Sphinx Stone, my silhouette
signposted in simple or significant sigils
Saturn’s starlit sighs bypass not my
knowing aloof yet vacant stare which
agelessly gather stories of aeons
imprinting dreams of God into manifest
luminosity becoming your words on lion
bones or this ephemeral page
Sphinx Stone I see sabian riddled profiles
making prolific progress patterns filled
with steely grit, come now release
agitated ages of bygone bitters to
prick or paddle dimensions where
appled anemones sing my stare into song to
swallow swiftly sweetly slivers of sanctities
I remain Sphinx Stone stable
unsullied forevermore
Undo the past, unbreak the trust,
Unsay the words spoken in disgust.
Unhear the song the cuckoo sang,
Unsee the places we’ve never been,
Untread the paths we’ve yet to begin.
Undo the promise made in haste,
Unveil the plans we didn’t chase.
Unearth the hatchet of regretful love,
Uncross the paths we never roved.
I wish I could unbreak your heart,
Untear the fragments that fell apart.
Like a bone that heals with a crooked seam,
I tried to hold you close, to make you dream.
I tried to hang on tight,
Yet, despite
my embrace, you’ve changed inside,
You’re never the same
I made you insane
And now, it seems,
I drove you to the wild.
I used to say,
what a hell of a guy
Now I just see
A shell of the man
A shadow of the person
you used to be.
Along with the broken things,
And all the recurring themes,
These hands of mine
Wish they could rewind.
Like sands through the hourglass,
I know this too shall pass.
Let’s not repeat what we’ve tried before,
Just leave the door slightly ajar.
Unhang what’s not yet resolved,
I need a change of luck,
Or perhaps a four-leaf clover.
Wish upon a star or kiss a horseshoe,
And pray that it's not over.
Undo the hurt I’ve done to you.
They say words are like spears,
Cutting deep and leaving scars.
I wish I could erase the pain,
And wipe away your fears.
I used to say,
what a hell of a guy
Now all I see
Is just the shell of a man
You used to be
The stone once thrown,
The words once sown,
Can never be undone.
The moment that’s missed,
The chance that’s forever gone.
They hit the road before the break of dawn kicking down doors rattling gates and slamming car doors. “The computer people a goh kill the woman ova there so, we a goh murder her!” threat come echoing from behind the wall saturating fear through the modern roof.
The commotion continues throughout the wee hours of the morning and the turbulence shows no sign of stopping, the shouts and the threat continues and when I could not bear to listen to it anymore; I took a walk out door to examine what was on the floor and the excitement speed off about seventy miles per hour up the road, and a woman’s voice shouted, “A mi alone in a the car now” It didn’t sound logical but I could analyze its meaning.
I continued my work in the early morning and the traffic keeps coming and going and suddenly I heard a screaming, the cops come rushing down the hill and parked on the other side of the street and a woman emerge from the car and descended into the yard.
Domestic violence it seems has derails someone’s dream and the little man with the taxi came rushing in was part of the bubble; there was going to be real trouble. He parked in front of the cop's head on and puts on the white light signal and pretends as if he was the boss
He went underneath the big apple three on the other side of the street and the domestic upheaval intensified. I watched from the side and listened for a while then I zoom them out. It is the nonsense mixing with common sense that didn’t make sense.
The brawl continues into broad-day light with the cops and the neighbors arguing about I don’t know what, the woman was issuing murder threat in front of the cops, and on the other side of the big church the lawn mower man was cutting grass and digging up earth drowning out the domestic confusion.
And so the morning faded away with the cops, the computer people and the PM people running around the town without shoes and crown, with the minstrel and the drums sounding behind them.
I could not hear them anymore even when I walked through the door; the morning suddenly became still and just the warm heat and slight breeze, I could feel blowing over my feet and the stage was set for a brand-new journey.