Long Decimate Poems
Long Decimate Poems. Below are the most popular long Decimate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Decimate poems by poem length and keyword.
From a comet’s tail, like pepper on a meal
sprinkling down on the land
upon the earth, the contagious death
the cleansing of God’s hand
Genocide made, from a periodic plague
swelling numbers of the dead
when life departs, with heavy hearts
of the times that lay ahead
From rich or poor, it seeks for more
to feed upon its evil
with terrible pain, of who were slain
by the horrific cosmic devil
Tearing the will, a numbness feel
no one is safe to hide
a celestial throw, of prevailing woe
on the comet’s trailing ride
Like a skyward beast, soaring from the east
a mighty dragon span
its subtle wings, and deadly fangs
and fire to decimate man
The invading spell, straight out of Hell
that curses all who live
their bodies writhe, to stay alive
and the suffering they give
Bringer of death, taker of breath
destroyer of life around
deliverer of ill, killer of will
burrier in the ground
With bodies spent, from furnace sent
from static streak on high
the festering cull, deflesh the skull
as the comet passes by
We all deserve Love and Light, Joy and Happiness. But that doesn't mean we can hurt others along the way. Let's try to show Empathy and Compassion, Dignity and Respect in our dealings with others.
Pursuit of our Happiness
By Michelle Morris
14/02/2025
You and I talk
But I don't think we communicate
We use words and tones and facial expressions
But somehow it gets lost in translation
It's so easy to talk of world peace
And yet here we are being anything but
You're determined to pursue your ways
And I guess I'm tired of being stuck
Around and around we go each time
Around and around again
You see you think somehow we're fine
You even consider us as friends
I concede they we have moments
Where the path is not filled with rocks and thorns
Where the waves don't decimate the shore
And the horizon isn't too daunting
But that's because I keep bending
Keep making allowances and forgiving
I focus on the potential I see in you
And stupidly forget my Light is dimming
Because when you're on different frequencies
When your energy is unaligned
There's bound to be friction
The Universe wants to move Space and Time
I'm not meant to stay here
Here in the Darkness with you
I was only meant to be a mirror for your Soul
Reflect the deepest, honest Truth
Ultimately I accept it now
That I cannot save you from yourself
And I completely accept that
I'm going to Heaven and you're going to Hell
As much as I feel I've failed you
I know that you've had every chance
My mission here is complete now
It's time for me to leave this Dance
It's been a lot of challenging lessons
But it is always good to know
Exactly what you don't want sometimes
So that your future can be rosy
To be flexible and open-minded
Can only get us so far
Sometimes we have to see the ugly Truth
That not all Souls have the same Path
And that's okay because we're unique
We're here to (hopefully) learn and grow
Sometimes we have to walk away
And let Heaven and Hell do their sowing
We all deserve Love and Light
We all deserve Dignity and Respect
Let's try to be Patient and Kind to all
In the pursuit of our Happiness
© Michelle Morris, 2025
The eruption of blazing emotion uncontrolled
from the simmering volcano of anger,
chars the green minds of innocence,
you are burnt by the lava of remorse.
The spoken word of wrath,
the sharpest double-edged sword ever made.
One side may decimate your opponent,
but the other side severs your soul.
The deepest desires unfulfilled,
morph into the deadliest of hates.
You enter the labyrinth of apathy,
chased by the demon of your darkest shadow.
The mind radicalized for vague cause,
rides the mad horse of revenge,
heartless violence destroys the illusion,
the failed victor becomes the victim.
Let the sword remain sheathed abandoned,
tame the beasts of hate and anger,
wield the magic wand of your heart,
win all the battles with love and compassion.
Date written : December 10, 2019
Entered : December 23, 2019
Contest : Your Best December Poem
Sponsor : John Hamilton
In every crevice where I look
Every cranny, every nook
Creeping, crawling in their hoards
It’s my world they head towards
Swarming over every leaf
Numbers that defy belief
Out of holes, from under rocks
Now they’re even in my socks
They’re up my legs, they’re here, they’re there
I think one’s bit my you-know-where
At my feet the ground’s alive
I start to think, “Will I survive?”
I have some powder that I rate
It has the strength to decimate
Just a puff in cracks and holes
And all those ants will lose their souls
Trouble is, those bites are itching
For my powder’s in my kitchen
In a cupboard ’neath the sink
“Useful: NOT!” I hear you think
I ran a bath to set me free
And drowned those ants that didn’t flee
I laughed out loud as gleefully
I pulled the plug out, “Tee hee hee!”
Sat down that night to watch TV
And found an ant sat on my knee
I told that ant I couldn’t see
What kind of use an ant could be
I guess you’ll think that it’s a joke
(And yes I’d had a Scotch and coke)
It didn’t squeak nor bark nor croak…
I swear to you that damned ant spoke!
“Sir,” it said, “we pollinate
plants that then regenerate.
We make ourselves an aphid farm
which helps to save your plants from harm.
And all those slugs that make you squirm,
That horrid curly wurly worm,
We’ll eat them if we find them dead…
And then we shall infest your bed.”
Four millimetres of annoyance
For the sake of doubt avoidance
I hate insect sycophants
I won’t pretend to love those ants
He bit my leg; I wished him dead
But what the hell just bit my head
Sometimes nature makes me sigh…
What’s the point of ants that fly?
Allie was her own person, so the rest of the galaxy leapt back.
They knew she could take care of herself with her platinum swords.
She was quicker and stronger and mightier, that the rest of the pack.
Eventually she became their leader after much discussion and words.
The argument was that she was too exotic, too crazed, too wild.
She would jump into the fray and decimate every man but not child.
It was weird the way her blue topaz and light pink ruby lit her way.
They were always in her presence all through each and every fray.
The men were intimidated because of her ruthlessness and daring.
They jumped back and held off, not understanding her weird caring.
She carted the girls and boys home, to raise them as her own.
Letting them feast with her father, the king on the throne.
At first, the king also thought his daughter Allie had gone a little bit mad
But that was before he began to learn from the children about all of their sad.
He got them a governess, and he too suited up for battle to kill and to fight
Kingdoms who did not take care of their children, for it was simply not right.
I must declare America used to be
Somewhere people still cared
Where our rights were still fare
More and more all you see
Are the tempers that flare
So many of its people unaware
Dirty laundry
Aired into nightmares
All the fake news
Feeding us false reviews
Politicians who dare to scheme
To break up the American dream
I swear why does it all end
In despair
Deep down inside we all need to care
About this place, That is so rare
Though a few players
Have stained some of our inner layers
We still have our prayer's
Blessed by God Almighty as the land of the free
Look at what we have let it turned out to be
A land of deceivers, not believers
Without Jesus, as our Redeemer,
We have grown so far apart
I know in my heart it's never too late
To make America great
So she can live up to her fate
As long as we don't hesitate
What seems to decimate
And make her heartache
Why we let just a few disgrace
What is so necessary to inflate
America's people to grow
The life and soul we have come to know
Love and grace
Of such a Godly place
We are tired of all the disgrace
That has been bestowed upon our race
Cant, we live without any trace
Of the evil that has blinded our faith
As I make an open case
For the leaders of the nation to face
Let's not go down in history as the people
Who kicked God out of such amazing place
Time is now to embrace his love and compassion
He wants for the whole human race
Let us be the keepers of the balance
Of this land, he blessed for you and me
So we might all be united and free
What a difference this makes for us all to see
How it's to live In Gods harmony
A poet's flowing poems uplift the souls
of men and sing of legends small and great,
of knights and lords, of fiefdoms, and of fate,
of kings, and pontiffs in ungodly roles!
Long, long ago, these popes, desiring control,
enjoined the knights to charge; and penetrate
their Christ's Jerusalem to decimate
the infidels and caliphs of dark Sheol!
When wanton rulers pillage and plunder, poets
write and sing of their wicked, immoral acts,
betrayals, carnage, and cabals; tho' it's
wiser to just ignore these damning facts,
let poets instead make them known, so it's
repaid by poetic justice's attacks.
I wrap my fingers around the pen
which has lain dormant collecting dust
for months on end feeling as if
I'm lifting a fifty pound weight
straining not just my joints
but my brain, its neurons refusing
to fire like the broken burner of a
gas stove with a malfunctioning igniter
fouling the air with noxious fumes
as it fails to burst into blue flame
a single spark threatening an explosion
that will decimate everything I hold dear
My lone gift life bestowed upon me
I once naively believed would
change everything has altered
exactly nothing as my words are
like whispers in a windstorm
to the world, to you
whose image I was deluded
enough to imagine there might
be a chance would match reality
that someone, that you
could actually care
"A Poet's Gift" you wrote three years ago -
the arc of your poetic heart to tell.
You spoke of deep emotions in the soul
invoking tears to well and hearts to swell.
You had a gift. You were a gift as well.
written 23 October 2022
// Connie Marcum Wong wrote the poem below which I have often come back to as a reminder why a poet writes. When my well runs dry, I return to these words and find my embers are stoked and a flame rekindled. Connie knew how to elevate the English language as an artist elevates a blank canvas into a work of art, and I admire her greatly for her gift. She had a gift, and in her friendship and encouragement she WAS a gift as well. Thank you, Connie. //
A Poet's Gift
A poet writes to share a secret depth
Of feelings within their soulful breast.
They write to grasp onto immortality,
To be remembered beyond their death.
A poet shares emotions inked upon the
Page that cannot verbally be conveyed.
They dwell in a world of dreams, of dark
And light, of imagination, of metaphors,
Where heartbreak heaves and love believes.
Poets dwell where nature inspires, and
Longing desires may elevate or decimate.
They feel compelled to write day or night
From their innate state of expressiveness.
Music, dance, and art entwined, are all a part
Of creating that sonnet, free verse or rhyme
Which may capture hearts in belabored sigh,
Cause tears to well, the heart to swell, joy to
Bloom, cause lovers to swoon in blissful reverie.
Poetry...the greatest gift a poet yearns to share
With sensitivity, with their open heart laid bare.
"A Poet's Gift" written 7-23-19 by Connie Marcum Wong
"Connie's Gift" submitted to:
Short Connie Tributes - How did Connie Marcum Wong Inspire You Contest
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
A broken shell, a living hell, and all I'm left with now is my regret.
Better days ahead were a pipedream after our relationship crumbled. Countless arguments. Disagreements. Every day! For my life, I can't believe we stayed together as long as we did. God knows I didn't want her to leave me. How much longer must I wrestle with these painful memories?
I just feel regret, unspoken, I just feel the pain; since she left, my life has been a broken shell, a living hell — I can't believe I let her go; it was foolish pride before the fall the day she left when I lost all — I should have held her closer, I should have made her see the feelings I have for her, what she means to me; I didn't say I love her or beg her to stay, instead, I stood in silence and watched her walk away, and all I'm left with now is my regret.
Justification is an exercise in futility. Knowing what I could have and should have done leaves an inextricable switchblade in my soul. Love's lessons learned too late — love's loss too great.
Misting eyes beseech as memories replay in my head, but they're too painful, and I feel dead. No joy to be found. Oh well, my self-imposed hell. Painful memories open like an oubliette under my feet, plunging me lost and languishing in isolation's labyrinth. Questions left unanswered, decaying in the debris fields of "what if.”
Reflection can be a catharsis for the soul, but it can also rip a hole in it, and soon reality roars from guilt's bottomless pit to devour all hope. Sometimes despair is mitigated by occasional reminders of us. Thoughts lingering on happier times, blessed moments mine to treasure. Until the damnable loop of regret dominates to decimate any respite of joy. Vanishing expectations. Weeping willow's silent wail. Xerox memories fade with time.
Years have passed, and my thoughts continue to haunt me over what we could have had. Zero-sum game — all I'm left with now is my regret.