Long Defunct Poems
Long Defunct Poems. Below are the most popular long Defunct by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Defunct poems by poem length and keyword.
When I looked in to her eyes,
In it I saw a prospect of a paradise.
A paradise whose entry was not
contingent on my righteousness.
My days of startling agony, still battled my
hope of finding true love.
Like the Battle of Armageddon,
I always came out a looser.
But meeting her... yea the Vault of Heaven,
was like proximal to the Book of Leaves.
Her countenance and demeanor,
whispered melodic symphonies.
And her meekness and charm,
transited me into a world of ecstasy.
Covered In fine linen and sapphire,
she glowed than a continuous spectrum.
Her beauty was an Achilles hill,
that all men that saw her failed to vanquish.
Just like my maiden father Adam,
In her I saw the hidden part of me.
As a woman, as one I will be spending my life with.
I have never felt this conflagration before,
It was apparent she was my dream woman.
What can be compared to the taste of crimson honey,
The more it reddened the more it sweetened.
I have never loved like this before.
For her I was willing to exchange my soul,
To be with her till eternity.
But cunningly she unmasks her real face.
Beneath her could not be compared to an iota of grace.
She was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Who entered my life to distort and annihilate,
My hope of bliss.
All these while we paddled and flew high,
In the crescendo of our emotions.
It never crossed my mind that it was all a hoax.
A calculated sham just to make away with all I ever had.
Now am left with nothing,
Since her angelic face and docile pace,
Which I thought was the elixir my unending conundrum,
Was rather an emotional and psychological torture,
That has rendered my life defunct.
When I imagine her driving around town,
Adorned in my hard earned luxury,
There is only one moment I wish ,
I could re-write.
And that was the day I met her.
I always tell myself that sometimes,
It is better some people don’t come into your life.
But here I am know,
Wishing to right my wrongs and alter the past.
But it is so sad that I cannot have my way.
I know in the annals of time,
When my saga is being told,
I will be know as the moron,
Who killed himself because of a girl.
Though it may sound and look stupid,
I deem it a befitting penance,
For my obsessed illusion of love,
Thus love is an illusion that,
Emotionally disrupt sober discretion.
What can be compared to the stench of a broken heart.
A Determined Devil -
As I lay another cedar beam plumb for our home
smoke plumes, serpentine and sulphuric, interrupts the sunshine,
I look below the ridge, Eve standing silent
with weapon in hand,
a woman so grand,
panic has no rest in her person, fear has no finger on her pulse,
I move like lightning, to war by my Lady's side,
Valley vandels have come, scortching field fruit,
searing insidious signs into our peach and apples trees,
incarnate, the Devil disheveled with a defunct posse of three
approaches me, hailing not from a city of Angels but from a ghetto of ghouls,
mean and ugly like ignorance injured by the ivory tusks of innocence,
a madman desperate for the destruction of Divinity,
unskillful and wishful for lies to come alive,
he's a scribbler scribe, a dribbler riddler
a stereotype simpleton, frontin' and gruntin'
fallin short of the great gangsta idol,
just a stereotypical imbecile, a pencil with no lead,
burpin chicken feathers claimin them to be the silk quill of Angels,
I turn to Eve now
with eyes saying now is the time for demise,
briefly, before I strike steel across the throat of Hell itself
our first promise to each other repeats in my memory,
"I forever fight for you"
as her brown eyes convince me of loyalty, love royal,
she rips her blade through his groin
as I open a river across the throat of this terrible thug...
Raising A Tribe -
Eve, this land is already populated by persons whom seem like us,
although different too, like seasons in soul,
divergent in their dreams for dynasty,
they have dialects from a depth of Dawn
that awoke long before we arrived to thrive here,
customs peculiar as shapes to stones,
Father never spoke of these klans
who strive to survive outside the mercy of His guarded Garden,
competitive as clouds in a shrunken sky,
I met a merchant, a servant to trade,
he told of banners and blood, laws and legacies
cultures savage and cities of crime,
gleamed from telling stories of wealth and wonder,
said they worship their Gods more ways than gold folds,
consider what we have encountered Luv,
will our children slay or be slain, war or work
love or get lost in conquest,
you, as a Woman of God's glorious gambit
have a harvest of futurity's face in the balance,
will you deliver the destiny of our union into this drama...
Justin A. Bordner...J.A.B. 2021
A LETTER TO MY BELOVED
While I am writing this letter to You, my one and only,
the mute wind,
utterly silent and stealthy,
has opened the doors of the old church,
and carried away the prayers
along the white heavenly fields.
The mute wind never opens my door,
because he knows that my prayers ran dry
long since, just like my tears.
While the eternally faithful solitude
carries my passions
across the face of the bloody horizon,
my memories are slowly dying
on the bonfire of the demonic fire of oblivion.
My one and only, I am not afraid of my own death,
I am afraid of the death of our memories.
You remember, my one and only,
the cheerful song of the golden bird
on the red rose’s petal,
when You used to bestow me with kisses,
moist and reverberant,
warm and dreamy.
My pen is trembling in my hand,
just like that red rose,
where Your gentle gaze is no longer present.
You know, my one and only,
one of the rose’s petals shivers in the wind
more than all the others.
It is the same petal
you used to fondle
at the break of day.
Its face is perfectly human
yearning and lonely
like mine.
Up there, the golden bird is singing,
while down here solitude is following my steps.
Why won’t it be killed?
Because its grave
lies down there along with many souls,
because human laws do not apply to it.
And when the mute wind
started wistfully humming
in the tired night’s embrace,
I continued wandering the world
with the inexplicable hope
that I might, perchance,
walk into You.
Days, months and years
were carried away by the capricious wind of destiny,
and You still remained but a memory.
There is no pain in my defunct heart,
everything is so distant and meaningless without You,
and You are so far,
and me,
I never took part in anything again.
And when that golden bird,
amidst its cheerful song,
would casually look into my eyes,
I would be stricken with indescribable memories.
And while the April sky
rose above its
quivering golden head,
I knew that its song
travels towards a borderline,
invisible world,
just like all our memories do.
Do not worry, my one and only,
the day will come,
our day,
when the golden bird shall sing
for us only,
and when that rose petal shall once again
tremble in Your hand,
just like my hand shall tremble
in Your hand.
©Walter William Safar
Force.
Two,
They are two
Heavy and strong
On my top.
Their hands covering my mouth
I can't even
Scream, STOP.
Numb,
My body
Is numb.
Legs,
Shaking.
Shaking because of
The Unpleasant ******.
The abdomen is paining,
I feel the spasm.
I've lost power.
I am defunct.
Enervated.
And, helpless.
Lying,
One is still,
On top,
Pushing.
He's heavy and strong.
My eyes, frozen.
I look at the fan,
I feel nothing
I feel dead,
Still numb.
They see me,
They grab my face,
Violently
I don't try to steal the gaze.
I don't move
I don't cry
For
The miseries,
The Woes
I feel nothing
Not even my Palms
My toes
Cigarette
One smokes
A cigarette.
Burns me,
On my breast.
But, it hurts less.
Less than the
Burns they
Are giving me
On my core,
And, My crest.
He's done.
He enjoys his triumph
He takes a knife,
And cuts my wrists
It's bleeding,
He again, sucks my ****
Smile,
He smiles
I can not forget,
that evil curved smile
They left,
They closed my file.
My legs, still spread,
My eyes, widen, in fear.
I touch my face,I Feel no pain,
Death is near.
Locked,
Locked
are the intended eyes.
Coiled are the hair
And flicks.
Smudged is the mascara
With tears
And, the heart,
Heart is left with
The patches of fear.
The red lipstik,
I was happy to wear,
Has fused with the
Blood on face,
The same lipstik,
Now feels to me,
The biggest disgrace.
Broken.
Broken is something,
Inside me.
but What?
A lady?
A daughter,
Or an innocent soul?
Is it because of
My human role?
ICU,
I am lying,
With a million tubes and syringes
Only a few breathes left,
And i'll be out of all fringes.
Felony,
They say it's my felony.
They smash me
With a thousand calumnies.
They,
The neighbors,
The unknown.
The inhuman souls.
Why couldn't i feel the misogyny?
Coming home at
Ten in night,
They ask,
Was i out of my mind?
Was i?
When i didn't run
When i saw the red blooded eyes.
When i opened the wardrobe
And chose my Black
Bodycon?
I could have done something
I could have won.
My eyes, are closing,
I see the dark
Calling me forever.
I wish i don't get raped
Out there.
I wish there's some humanity left
And there's no one there
Who stares
~Apoorva
Dear Fellow Poets, One and All
As a lover and defender of freedom my whole life, I feel duty-bound to inform you, just in case you missed it, that the unthinkable has now happened.
Russia shelled the Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant in Ukraine early this morning. (Source: Associated Press, 1:45 a.m., March 03, 2022).
The plant is actually on fire now.
Should Zaporizhzhia explode, much of Europe will be exposed to deadly radiation.
Zaporizhzhia is the largest nuclear power plant in all of Europe. It is much, much larger than the one in Chernobyl which killed so many in 1986, including David Freydin's father in Kursk, 337 miles away. (David, a Chicago-area attorney, was a student of mine, 1992-1995, at Yeshivas Brisk Academy High School in Chicago, now defunct).
Make no mistake, my dear friends: Mr. Putin will be coming after everyone on this planet, esp. in Europe and the USA next -- if we don't stop him cold NOW.
I urge all of you residing in the USA to email President Biden, your two Senators in Washington, and your Representative. You can google email President Biden for example, and you will get a user-friendly site on which you can email him. Same with the others
Ask them to get off of the sidelines and start leading the fight for freedom. The Ukrainians cannot and must not be left to fend off Russia alone! America must do her part, must take the lead.
It is time for America to employ the most powerful army in the world to defeat Russia, end the threat of nuclear war, and hopefully, silence the monster named Putin forever.
Please Keep your emails as brief as possible, and to the point. Make sure to include the nuclear threat of Zaporizhzhia, the need to lead the fight for freedom by defeating Russia militarily, and the imperative to save thousands - if not millions - of lives all over the world, including those of the legislators in Washington D.C.
Remember, Europe and America are next for Putin and Russia.
Thank you, and God bless. (Any questions on how to contact America's leaders, please soup mail me). Faith and Strength, Gershon
Suddenly my shuttle broke down midway
Causing me terror in an astute way
Panic everywhere as all were aware not
Felt a shock of stun many an astronaut
Abruptly moving in reverse my compass
The shuttle caught fire and chaos alas..!
Seemingly all general theories at daze
First time this we experience in days
As we lost contact with existing space
It means we were in hyperspace..!1
Theory of relativity became defunct
As strange event was for us in front
Peculiar vehicles rushing around us
To prove we were aliens thus
We being in exterior galaxy afar
Couldn’t decide what to do ajar
The door got jammed due to
The mysterious rays emitted too
From the protective cutting shield of them
The intergalactic war like situation did stem..2
Were they from an advanced form of earth
Or were they searching a new abode due to dearth
Of resources on their planet and no more mirth
We were aghast with no knowledge and girth
The magnitude in which we were about to be done..!
Haunting us in a manner as if were about to be undone..!!
The whole day the shuttle was making rounds
Trying to decode ours in mounds
At last there came the alien detecting team
With methods highly cultured in teem..3
To check any foreign objects with us
To ensure everything was safe thus
Ultimately we deduced that they were
The inter stellar biologists fair
Apart from being hugely qualified and cultured
It was enough to have our egos ruptured
Telepathy and hypnotic being communication
There was no need of any unsolicited action
They seemed to be on a mission
Of making a powerful vaccine..4
As the ‘universal epidemic’ was on
Which was about to wipe down
All species in the universe
To create a lacunae in multi-verse
Thus their mission was a sign of friendship
As they decoded our gestures in spaceship
Apparently we behaved in an amiable way
Thus making for multi-versal brotherhood in a broad way
The highly advanced medicines and instruments they carried
Made us feel as inferior earthlings and worried..5
Relief courtesy dreaded (re:) inspection not revisited until May 2022
Anticipatory anxiety put on high alert
when the warden gave less than a week
courtesy spluttering tone of voice
she did angrily blurt
nsync with her usual persona
being wickedly curt
treating us (myself and missus) like dirt
gloating in our writhing adversity
poor, sharecroppers, no matter yours truly indigent
no matter exhaustive effort I do exert
to secure living income/wage, thus flirt
with visions of illusions grandeur
analogous to taut pulled belt girt
tightly around psyche whereby temple hurt
with unbearable agony
rendering these lovely bones inert.
Grosse and Quade Management
at 2 Highland Manor Apartments
with Jackie Geiger at the helm
finds yours truly afflicted with weak
praise, cuz she left us
(meself and the missus)
in figurative darkness,
whereby I electronically bellow and shriek
silently critiquing as if writing op/ed
for Time magazine and/or defunct Newsweek
perhaps under heading summarizing healthweek,
which hypothetical issue possibly considered
virtual collector's item
and subsequently unreal antique.
Nevertheless said rich daddy's princess
forewarned yours truly and spouse
dated June 24th, 2021,
quoted verbatim as follows:
Dear Mr. & Mrs. Harris
Due to your recent annual inspection,
we will be re-inspecting
your apartment on Tuesday, June 29th
from 11am-4pm.
We will be conducting
the inspection to ensure
you are making progress
cleaning your apartment,
especially your kitchen and bathroom areas.
We also want to keep up
with eliminating your fruit fly issue
in your apartment.
The above date came and went
(as did two other recently lapsed dates),
we never got notified
approximately five year tenant
logically concluded - and anger pent
up inside furious enough
methinks gross analogy when
twenty eight National Guardsmen
fired their weapons at a group
of anti-war demonstrators at Kent
State On May 4, 1970,
now mine poem attains completion extent.
Elixir of life
How do you live your life?
Had you say, I live for myself
You are like big baby
Whose baby took to the sea bay
To drink from the long life pot
Whose seaside was it point
To live hundred years a year
Two hundred years two years
Big baby was becoming infant
When he walked, his back faced the firmament
His mouth wanted to kiss the ground
His legs were robust as though rotten wood
Big baby stood facing the long life jar
Told small kid to say at the rear
In respected distance
Not wanted him to have the experience
Of this mysterious and wonderful jar
Also not aware to the big kid
That it had never happened
Infant like him who had twice become newborn
Could not fetch water in the long life muddy pan
Small baby stood by the seaside
Just as he was told
Watching swooping and chirping of seabirds
Sea wave stooped and stood
Measuring it height with small kid
The sea was emitting pleasant cold
Caressing the soul of small kid
And now small kid was in another world
Relishing fondling and kissing of the sea cold:
So big baby was neglected
Like abandoned goal, which however
Would be embraced in the future
Big baby dipped hands in the pot
And then he pulled it out
But his hands were dried just as before
No traced of water
Yet the pot was full of water
He wondered
And again he dipped his hands
More and more and more
But his hands were dried just as before
No traced of water
Yet the pot was full of water
He wondered perhaps his hands
Could not fetch the water, but his rubbery lips
‘I shall dip my head in to this pot
I shall swig the water and empty the pot
I shall live long past Noah
History shall talk of me above Noah:
He had lived one fifty years
Before he started afresh-new youth-hood years
Maybe I shall live long
Long and long.
Perhaps I might not defunct
After emptying this long life pot
My boy shall die while I'm exist
I shall place him beneath soil of gold in zealot’
The rest will be posted latter. Thank you for reading me.
I was a man, a cold blooded drunk, as they come.
I lived my whole life in a little house on my dad’s farm.
A broke hustler with a defunct bank account,
My career's future was always in doubt.
I married late, at the start of my forties.
It was not for love, I just wanted society to notice.
I did it to save myself from the embarrassment,
So she was not exactly for me heaven sent.
If I thought I was unhappy before, I was miserable now.
I my search for stability I had eloped with a cow.
I had to drink more, to feel like a man again.
Had to play deaf and mute, not to go insane.
As the years passed, the cow bore me a calf
By now I was weak and my income had reduced to half
The bottle was killing me, but it was Still my only friend.
To hold my hand and kiss me, everyday till the end.
The bottle was all i had, to wash away my sorrow
I had to have it, whether i should beg, steal or borrow
The meaning of life had now escaped my grasp.
All I did was sit, drink and watch time elapse.
Misery matured to sickness and still the years went by.
I shed no tears but within me there was a silent cry.
That of an old man whose whole life had been a lie
Pleasure is only found in the sweet wine a youngster sips.
For death hangs around the bed, every time an old man sleeps.
No amount of slumber nor sweet dreams can sooth,
When the heavy hand of time strikes away youth.
The dagger of illness and age was soon on my throat
I who called my wife "cow" was almost a slaughtered goat.
The reflection of my old face was unbearable on the mirror.
I looked haggard and horrible, i looked like a killer.
The cow and the calf left me to seek better pasture.
I was now all alone, expect for the bottle and my pastor
He visited often to preach me the holy word.
He warned me of hell, i assured him, that i have already had
He gave up, went his way as death came mine.
No regret, no redemption and no cloud nine
There was no glitter, there was no glory
I was bitter, and that was the end of my story.
Walking very rigid with a slight unsteady gait
As I walk I'll often veer from side to side
Although by this I could appear to some as being drunk
I feel totally disorientated and utterly defunct
My left arm is just hanging there, not moving from my side
For it's no longer swinging as it should
My mind it has stopped working
Feels solidified with fear
Oh please don’t say that word
The word I do not want to hear
Falls just lately, I’ve had many
Though I’m unsure why I’ve had any
Breaking bones and grazing knees
What on earth is happening to me
I sit alone in the waiting room
My left arm is starting to tremor
With my anxiety rising
Well it isn’t surprising
Waiting for my diagnosis
On this frightening dilemma
I am called to the room
Where a Neurologist is sitting
And she asks me to walk to the window
Without further ado she looks into my eyes
Saying, ‘Parkinson’s Disease I can see it in your walk'
I was numb and in shock and I could not even talk
It was not what I wanted to hear
But had been on my mind for a year
Then I heard a voice saying over and over
Are you sure
Are you sure
Are you sure
I’m a widow on my own
There is no one else at home
Only me
Only me
Only me
The first few days in total shock
And all I did was cry a lot
But gradually accepting it, I really had no choice
Then deep inside my soul I heard a soft and gentle voice
It said…
‘It’s neither Cancer nor Alzheimer’s, but Parkinson’s disease
Yes I know it is degenerative, don’t mean to sound insensitive
But Parkinson’s you have, so keeping active is imperative
For the many hills and mountains that you will need to climb
As your symptoms start to worsen, as you go into decline’
So on waking up each morning
As a bright new day is dawning
My mantra ‘I must use it or I’ll lose it”
For although I do not want it
I accept that I have got it
So Parkinson’s my friend
I will fight you to the end