Long Dead Poems

Long Dead Poems. Below are the most popular long Dead by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dead poems by poem length and keyword.


The Interview

Waiting in line until it is my time.
      I wondered what I will say,
      What did I do, what is my excused?

      Looking apposite me,
     I am curios who is she?
     She looks so pale and fragile.
    I know she is dead by the blow in her head.
    What life she had been living, by the clothes she wears,
    And the blood dripping from her hair?
    I bet she will bargain, to be pardon.

    
    The man next to me, looks very conceit.
    Bet he will plea that’s not his fault he had a wealthy life,
    Killed by his jealous wife.
    It looks like he had an affair with the person in the other chair.
    Because both are still naked, with gunshots in their heads,
    The reason their lives were terminated.

   
   Still pondered what I will say, 
   Why did I deceased on this day?
   Mr. Peter, the gate keeper looks so very stern,
   No regrets if he had to send you to burn. 
   I don’t think I have to say anything,
   After all He knows my history and my abusive story.

   As I look around and see these dreadful faces,
  I know this interview is not based on gender, wealth or race.
  You will be judge by the rules of the holy book,
  It depends on what choices in life you took.
  At last I heard my name,
   Now my interview begin.
Form: Rhyme


A Peasant's Revenge, Part Ii

...Early the next morn screaming arose
when the servants found him there in the bed,
blood matter his beard, his tongue was swollen,
his face blue as he lay there, quite dead.

And right next to him the woman did lay,
also dead, though her face held a smile,
I learn closed and sniffed a peculiar scent,
a poison I’d not seen in quite a while.

She had smeared it all across her full lips,
then kissed the king and doomed both to their deaths,
I wondered who sent such an assassin,
but recognition hit and stole my breath.

It was the woman from that ruined town,
whose poor husband Malistare had killed!
She must have escaped, and not been enslaved,
Tten with a cold lust for vengeance been filled.

Had she known about such poisons back then?
Local herbs or such things, who can say?
All I knew is that it had been seven years,
she’d been planning a long time for this day.

Of course the people heard nothing of this,
they were told that the Gods had ‘called him home,’
‘struck down’ at thirty, such a ‘tragedy,’
all of Blenum wept loudly and moaned.

And with no trueborn heirs to take the throne
the whole lineage had died with the King,
all knew war was coming, so they blamed me,
said I should’ve saved him, should have done something.

I was, of course, sent into exile;
forty years gone, I am facing my end,
but truth should be known, that whole dynasty
was brought down by a mere peasant’s revenge.
Form: Epic

Standing Tall In Limbo

ALL I HAVE IS TIME ALL THE TIME. 
AND ON MY MY MIND WAS ALL MY MIND. 
I PAID THE COST WHEN MY HEART TURNED FROST. 
COLD AS ICE WHEN I HAD IT TOSSED. 
INTO A SEA OF HATE INTO A SEA OF EVIL. 
INTO A PLACE OF RAGE WHERE THERE WAS NO RETRIEVAL. 
MINE EYES TURNED BLACK INTO A STATE OF LIMBO. 
NO SENSE OF DIRECTION NO HIGHWAY SYMBOLS. 
NO FLAWLESS VICTORIES, NO HONOR AND GLORY. 
NO EXAGGERATIONS OF THIS TRUE STORY. 
THE TONGUE OF A SNAKE THE SERPENTS SON. 
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL THE WICKED ONE. 
I WAS NEVER BEGET I WAS NEVER BEGOTTEN. 
I WAS BORN FROM THE FLESH TO BE EATEN WHILE ROTTEN. 
FROM FLORA TO FAUNA SAVED ARE GOD'S CREATIONS. 
THE GENESIS OF MY BIRTH THOUGH ORDAINED ABOMINATION. 
FIRE AND BRIMSTONE DEATH AND DESTRUCTION. 
WHO AM I BUT A SOUL WITHOUT SIMPLE INSTRUCTIONS.
FAITH YOU SAY OF A MUSTARD SEED? 
BUT FAITH IS DEAD WITHOUT WORKS OR DEEDS. 
YOU SPEAK OF LOVE AND ADORATION. 
SIMPLISTIC THOUGHTS AND MANIPULATION. 
BUT AS TIME GOES ON IT TOO SHALL PROVE. 
IF LOVE IS FAITHFUL AND IF IT MOVES. 
INTO THE ENDLESS PIT THE CONSTANT FALL. 
A MOBIUS PITCH THE MINDS EYE BALL. 
NOTHING BUT PURE THOUGHTS JUST A BLACK HOLE. 
YOU WOULD KNOW THAT TRUE INSPIRATION DERIVED FROM IT ALL. 
CONSTANT BABEL NO PEACE JUST PUN. 
THEY KNOW EVERYTHING...EVERYONE. 
NO LENDING EARS NO HELPING HANDS. 
JUST GREED AND FEAR OF ONLY MAN. 
BUT YOU ALONE FACE IT ALL. 
WITHOUT DISPAIR YOU STILL STAND TALL.
Form: Rhyme

World's Biggest Player

I told women that I loved them to get them into bed.
I promised them marriage but I dumped them instead.
I was the world's biggest player and that's a fact.
But when I dumped one woman, I came to regret how she would react.
She lied and had me arrested when she said that I hit her.
When it came to making my life a living Hell, she was no quitter.
I came home one day and found both of my dogs dead.
She gave them poisoned food that killed them while they were being fed.
She admitted to me that she killed them to break my heart.
If I hadn't been a jerk, my life wouldn't have been falling apart.
I was in misery because I thought that she wouldn't stop.
She tried to burn down my house and she was arrested by the cops.
She's behind bars and she'll be there for awhile.
Women were nothing but conquests to me and that was vile.
My friends said that my ways would catch up to me; it's a shame that I couldn't have 
foreseen it.
I'll never tell another woman that I love her unless I really mean it.

(THIS FICTIONAL POEM WAS INSPIRED BY THE 1996 FILM 'A THIN LINE BETWEEN LOVE AND 
HATE.'
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Almost Lost

Incessantly it trods and plods
perpetual the pendulum.
So long before the abbey bells
tolled and told of hours passing
before the ticks and tocks of clocks
or shadows crept with solstice gods
no one to worship at its start
that knew not of a perfect love.

The kindest heart left drowned in tears
and wrapped in gross deformity,
yet sheltered by cathedral walls
in disrepair as much as he.
'til Esmerelda's gentle hand,
he knew no love, just hate and scorn
and like the brand from tempered flame,
it's burning love that made him strong.

So like the edifice was he,
an ugly house that held God's love
and Quasimodo's lonely heart
who'd toll the bells that silence hears.
Then in the end he found her dead
and sacrificed his mortal life
to sleep with one who truly gave
the only love he'd ever known.

Interred, yet not forsaken souls,
whose bones became entangled vines
that turned to dust when first exposed,
then blew to heaven ~ found in time...


Romeo and Juliet-Prologue Too

ROMEO AND JULIET – PROLOGUE TOO


The Montagues and Capulets never saw eye-to-eye.
A feud so deep, eventually, someone had to die.
At loggerheads for decades (no-one remembered the reason)
To fraternise together would be an act of treason.
They’ve traded insults every time they met upon the street,
Biting thumbs at each other, with neither conceding defeat.
But, in our play, two offspring, one from either side,
Fancy one another and will not be denied.
Romeo, a Montague, has hormones running wild
And Juliet, a Capulet, at thirteen but a child.
They fall in love completely and despite their parent’s abhorrence,
They sneak off in the morning to be married by Father Lawrence.
They share one night of passion (the law was different back then)
But then Romeo was banished so they never did it again.
It starts to get complicated now as Juliet takes a potion,
To make it seem that she is dead – cue scenes of high emotion.
Her lover returns before she awakes and poisons himself in remorse.
Then she comes-to and, finding him dead, she kills herself of course.
But this is just the prologue to get us under way.
If you want to know the full details, you’ll have to watch the play
Form: Couplet

The Anthem

!Steel and concrete erecting up 
for nearly a whole mile,
When struck, just so, by men in flight,
reduces to a pile. 

The grandest hall in Europe stood
eight hundred years in France.
Now, dwarfed to not much more than frame
by mightier, the match.

As towers fall and churches burn,
and flags still wave and crowns return
to eager patriots and saints,
the news comes on, and mother faints,

and dad drops down upon his knees
and grandma crys and prays and pleads,
"Please Lawd, don't let that be our "boy"
dead on that TV, front that store!"

Ran to the door and flung it wide,
without my shoes, I  stepped outside
and began running, without fear,
my face disfigured from the tears,

"The TV screen cannot be true,"
I thought.  Although, in fact, I knew.
And when I'd reached that dreadful spot,
his body's there, but soul was      not.

And so, today, I sit and watch
well-wishes flow to that sweet spot
where a crown again will lay,
just as the flag again, does wave
over a land of free and brave
and peace for black boys, 
in their graves.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Angelina

In 1965, I was enlisted, 
To serve in the battle at Vietnam
For ten senseless years, I fought 
Until the fall of Saigon
 
A medic, my trade, 
In battle- I'd nurse 
All the wounded soldiers... 
The war would disperse
 
One day in the field, 
While helping the wounded 
I found a Vietnamese woman, 
Bloodied, crying...and severely injured
 
A sever on her forehead 
'Bout three inches wide 
And a bullet hole puncture 
That had torn through her side
 
She was left for dead, 
by those with no vain 
No more could I watch 
that poor woman in pain
 
Draped over my back, 
I trekked half a mile 
Talking other languages 
we spoke all the while
 
Until I got her to a hospital 
across the enemy lines 
Narrowly missing... 
Those enemy mines
 
Ten days she spent 
in the hospitals there 
Until they were able to transport her 
To a room, of my care

For six long months more 
I'd stay with the troops 
Bunkered down like chickens 
cuddled in coops
 
But every day, I checked...
On that Vietnamese woman 
To see if she was still alive 
And to see how she was doing
 
As days passed by, 
We became close in heart 
So close, that nothing... 
Could separate us apart
 
That wounded Vietnamese woman 
Became part of my life 
My sweet Angelina, 
Is now my dear wife
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Killing Fields

The Killing Fields”
Stepping across these bodies
Makes me ill

Pools of blood stitched
In the soles of my shoes       

Body parts dripping from 
Walls where bullets passed

She went to school that day
Skipping and laughing along the way

Gunfire from hell
Unleashed in a fury of hate 
For no reason at all
Convenient it seems

Seven year old girl
Face half gone

Her mother weeps
They did nothing

Stepping across these lifeless forms
Makes me ill

Rivers of blood
Stain the asphalt

Two lovers embraced
In death 
Bullets passed through
Denying them life 

They went to a concert that day
Joking and laughing along the way

Gunfire from Hell
Rang down from above
For no reason at all
Convenient it seems 

Their parents weep
They did nothing

Stepping across these mangled forms
Makes me ill

Bodies slumped over 
In wooden pews

Riddled with bullet holes
Bibles in their hands

They went to pray to Jesus
Thinking everything right

Gunfire from hell
The open front door
All are welcome
Convenient it seems 

Jesus weeps
They did nothing

Stepping across these mutilated forms
Makes me ill

Bleeding bodies 
Screaming kids

Bisected limbs
Coughing up blood

It was their first date
Popcorn and cokes

Gunfire from hell
Came from the stage door
Down the aisles he strutted
Convenient it seems 

Defying reason
They did nothing 

Don’t you understand
What doing nothing 
Has done?

Complicit you are
No leadership you show
Your arrogance defies wisdom
Don’t you give a damn?

Maybe, if the dead 
Were one of yours?

No??

I’m going to guess
You’re too %#&! vain 
Makes you guilty as well                             

Stepping across these bodies
These bodies covered in blood
These bodies without faces
Ties a knot 
Deep in my heart
Makes me ill

Blankets cover the dead
We don’t have to look
Yet we’re part of the scene
Living in fear
These killing fields
Make me ill

When She Makes the Devil Blush

He could remember the chorus of warnings under the lonely heavens withholding its dazzling stars
The voice of Mr. & Mrs. Hart resonating within the walls of his sightly chamber Reminding him why this marriage will be transient like the bewitching waves of the ocean
	"Her fruit of the womb is stale with one already." Mr. Hart had said
	"She's a bed nomad." Mrs. Hart lending vocal pillar to support him
Came last week, fate stirred the hornets nest - His suspicion confirmed, seeing Michael welding hands with Jessica under the uncladded heaven. His Suspicion backed by visual proof. His wife was cheating while under his roof
	"I will maim him and my wife. In fact slay him and he'll die". Thoughts bursting open the skull
In the dead of the night, an upgraded pillow talk broke out
	"I saw you! You've been cheating and ing him!
	 Move out of my house tomorrow morning" 
	"OK. It's cool. It's not as if your pinky-finger  ever did me any good
	I'm tired of the shammed moaning and ******." She retorted
Her slam of doors startled the sun and made it rise with mourn. Bags leaving - 
Footsteps hurrying - Doors slamming! 
	"Keep the child. I'm not training anybody" 
He could remember the chorus of warnings under the lonely heavens
When she left without a goodbye to her daughter - Raven.
Form: Narrative

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace