Long Deteriorating Poems
Long Deteriorating Poems. Below are the most popular long Deteriorating by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Deteriorating poems by poem length and keyword.
PEACE ON EARTH
Peter paints the deep blue sky,
as if at the rise of creation.
He brushes the circumference
of a brand new world.
With tears, Max moves his sweeping
brush, as if tidying up the base
of the gifted Statue of Liberty.
Her height rises into the heavens.
Peter gives depth to the earth.
Bodies of water and continents,
brought to life. The bottom third
of the canvas displays the stars
and stripes of the American flag,
carpet-like - the world’s welcome.
Each star, meticulously placed,
sparkling around our beloved planet.
Before the artist signs his masterpiece,
with simply - MAX,
Lady Liberty’s torch glows like the sun,
over New York City. This artist who
saved her from her deteriorating fate,
who painted each fallen fireman -
gifting their families with painted portraits.
Max, born in Germany, raised in China.
Max, a patriot of the United States.
Max, a gentle man, sweet and kind.
He turns around and waves,
he shook my hand. His brushstrokes
inhabit the Statue of Liberty.
He stands ten feet tall,
even with withering bones.
A class act, all displayed in his lovely painting,
Peace On Earth.
9/17/2017
Enter Your Own Competition
Sponsor: Cecilia Hopkins-Drewer
My Competition: Celebration Of Art
Art: Peter Max’s Peace On Earth
Criterion hoping to achieve: Bring to life a painting of an old or new master artist.
Peter Max is an American artist known for using bright colors in his work. Max synthesized the "Summer of Love" into artworks from canvas to mugs, clocks, scarves, clothes, and cruise ships. Reference: Wikipedia
A Eulogy in Memory of My Dead Love
Dear Ladies and Gentlemen! My Loved Brothers and Sisters! Respected Believers!
This day, this Saturday, is very sad in the calendar. Cold, oppressive autumn day.
We may once again witness the departure of a mortal soul. This is her last journey.
Yes. Hmm. This is her last hour in our world. You can see her last time. Yes. Here.
She was a mortal. Hmm. Please, see this beautiful blonde lady. She desires decay.
She is dead. Hmm. Yes. She is dead. Hmm. I'm the killer. I sent this lady to her death.
Yes. I am the killer. The priest. The priest. The honest lover. Hmm. I loved this woman.
This beautiful and magnetic woman was a victim of her own lifestyle. I was the witness.
Yes. I. This lady’s confessor. I know everything about her. About her nights. I loved her.
I tried to change her. Her life. But she was very demonic. I couldn’t change her. The love.
Too many men. Too many parties. Hmm. You understand me. I needed to stop her life.
I tried everything to save her life. I loved this amazing woman. But she was a real demon.
I couldn’t put her life on the right track. I tried everything to save her deteriorating soul.
Everything! Everything!! I tried everything!!!. I couldn’t save her. I prayed every night.
But nothing. I had to save her. From destruction. I had no other choice. I killed her.
I loved her
Rest in Peace
Peace to her ashes
My Love
God Bless You
Amen
#The_Sea_is_empty
They said there were plenty of fishes in the sea, maybe I'm in the wrong sea.
In this sea, fishes swims nomore,
life has ravished them,
choices have left them gushed into mince of unstable emotions,
their health in deteriorating state.
Something gigantic has left its permanent mark here,
not only on them but the generation,
they are yet to breed.
Their scars festers so deep,
haunts one mind in just one stare.
Choices have amputated dreams
Cut short even some life, in this sea.
In this sea, plenty remains a far fetched wild dream
In this sea no hope can survive
Life has taken its fair share
Left empty shells
Shells whom silence, deafens the soul
In this sea, the only plenty I see, is death
In this sea, life fates before my eyes
Souls are roaming,
it's a death trap
Its survival of the fittest,
if not of the beast
In this sea nothing is plenty
#Poetic_Ink
Tina was organizing her stuff. She was supposed to meet with the professor exactly two minutes ago. She drafted her outline of the content to be discussed in a precise manner. Now she needs to merge with her timing before it is too late.
The cell phone vibrated with the usual ringtone. An unknown number.
“Are you Reza’s mom?”
“Yes.”
“This is his teacher, calling from the school.”
“ Yeah, please tell me…”
“Reza is deteriorating with his performance. We would like to meet both parents to discuss about his progress. Since you are not available locally, do you think you will be able to attend a virtual session?”
“Sure. I will be happy to.”
“Please, let me know a suitable time when it is possible.”
“Sure…um, let me talk to his father.”
Tina tried to get Minhaz. Three consecutive times. With a long pause of ongoing ringtones, no response.
A separated couple has too many loosely based dysfunctionality, in fixing priorities, in fixing purpose of meaning, when to talk and how to talk.
Tina was struggling before… Tina is struggling with the aftermath too.
“Sorry, missed your call. Anything urgent? Please text me.”
Tina was truly annoyed. She is now getting really late for meeting her professor. A meeting about the trend of pedagogy in language acquisition and about the crisis in the young generation. A meeting bearing much importance for her future motivation.
She tried to be precise.
He tried to be precise too.
“I do not feel any need of yours to be present. It is better to attend an on-site meet-up. I will be there. That should be enough."
“Reza is lacking something….either motivation, or focus, do you not understand? Let me be there.”
“ I understand. You don’t.”
He finished his sentence with a coldness.
“Pedagogy of language acquisition and crisis in language loss.”
Tina's title of the deliverable.
She needed to make up for the wasted time.
She needed to make up to make her presentable as well.
Not all tears are too personal to decipher.
Between a friend or foe.
Even in a dark world, you'll think their is light.
Every time I open my eyes, nothing but pain in my sight!
People are hurting, bodies are deteriorating, minds going crazy.
Every morning, I wake up and ask God, "why does this have to be?"
Babies are being kidnapped, and taken from their homes
Women are losing their lives because they're getting beat on.
Families losing their love ones, and houses every day because of fires
Government making plans, and taking food out of our mouth.
The black race is getting taken back to the slavery days
Now they want to end all black everything, and take away our pay
Freedom is getting hard for all the illegal immigrants
Being rounded up and deported by "ICE" back to their homeland.
It's a pain every day to even look at social media or the news
Every day, someone is getting shot and murder for public views!
Young kids are getting lazier every day by the minute
They just want to be on any platform shaking their ass for pennies.
My fingers clenching the deteriorating ledge
As against them there is a continual prying wedge
With the whole facade appearing to be so weak
It appears that this whole entire situation is utterly bleak
With so little strength I am soon to lose my hold
And throughout this entire length I have also grown old
With one hand giving way and soon the other one too
All I could do now was pray for it was only fear that I knew
I cried out to above in one last desperate try
And I felt His Hand of Love in knowing He heard my cry
Cradling my fall then setting me down upon my feet
And He is there for all for I fill you not with deceit
Be not afraid in times when you fall
For you shall not be betrayed not even one time at all
For you shall receive if you simply ask
And no longer will you grieve but in His love you will bask
Once Upon a Time Tom
Written: by Tom Wright
4/27/2018
Once I was saluted with, Hello Tom,
But somewhere during my calendar, it became Mr. Wright.
Today, though I flounder in winter’s path,
Spring is a drawing force that beckons me back again,
To reminisce things occurring while in its path;
I was then, a sapling that has evolved into near driftwood,
And the twinkle that escaped my eye has become a plea.
In the spring I danced, today, I sit as a curmudgeon,
Re-living spring pleasures;
In eventide my deteriorating body, God has blessed,
With an astute mind, and though I recall the breezes of spring,
The unfriendly winds of winter always command my attention.
A friend or foe
A friend or foe.
Tina was organizing her stuff. She was supposed to meet with the professor exactly two minutes ago. She drafted her outline of the content to be discussed precisely. Now she needs to merge with her timing before it is too late.
The cell phone vibrated with the usual ringtone. An unknown number.
“Are you Reza’s mom?”
“Yes.”
“This is his teacher, calling from the school.”
“ Yeah, please tell me…”
“Reza is deteriorating with his performance. We would like to meet both parents to discuss his progress. Since you are not available locally, do you think you will attend a virtual session?”
“Sure. I will be happy to.”
“Please, let me know a suitable time when it is possible.”
“Sure…um, let me talk to his father.”
Tina tried to get Minhaz. Three consecutive times. With a long pause of ongoing ringtones, no response.
A separated couple has too many loosely based dysfunctionality, in fixing priorities, in fixing purpose of meaning, when to talk and how to talk.
Tina was struggling before… Tina is struggling with the aftermath too.
“Sorry, missed your call. Anything urgent? Please text me.”
Tina is truly annoyed. She is now getting really late for meeting her professor. A meeting about the trend of pedagogy in language acquisition and about the crisis in the young generation. A meeting bearing much importance for her future motivation.
She tried to be precise.
He tried to be precise too.
“I do not feel any need of yours to be present. It is better to attend an on-site meet-up. I will be there. That should be enough."
“Reza is lacking something….either motivation, or focus, do you not understand? Let me be there.”
“ I understand. You don’t.”
He finished his sentence with a coldness.
“Pedagogy of language acquisition and crisis in language loss.”
Tina's title of the deliverable.
She needed to make up for the wasted time.
She needed to make up to make her presentable as well.
Not all tears are too personal to decipher.
Between a friend or foe.
You were always there
Through thick and thin and you knew
But, I stumbled upon guilt…I was poorly built
Thinkin' about you...
I fell in love way too soon
Crushed by misfortune
Satisfaction please?
Unconditional friendship -
Returning the favor happily...
I want to be a cheerful giver instead of a greedy getter!
But, tainted love singed me to the extreme…
Lowering my self-esteem and I just wanna scream
I am so lost!
As low as a puppy left in the streets, whimpering –
What a heartrending scene to imagine…I feel like I’m deteriorating…
Weakening by the hour…the minute…the second
Give me a second chance…please, I beg of you!
I say what’s up to you? And what do you do?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Say naught…
I’m entangled in this knot
I’ve downright fraught…
You left me to rot
Lay your burdens on me why don’t you!?
You’ll never get my clue . . .
No reply . . .
I am ignored, but I’ve accepted it as normal
Reality can get so cruel – but, I must stand tall
Stand tall, David, you must stand tall and give it your all
Give it your all and try not to fall
Call on Him if you feel like your heart’s in appall
He won’t reject your prayer at all . . .
She was found face down beside her bed
dead long before they kicked in the door
of the deteriorating house that reeked
of cat piss that had soaked into the
rotting planks of the bare wood floor
the plaster ceilings falling in
surrounded by mounds of detritus
boxes of odds and ends that had
been bestowed upon her by those
she had in their last days cared for
Every eye dry at the memorial service
not a single tear shed
for the mother who had decades ago
been abandoned to raise three children on her own
and had died alone
Under the full moon in the backyard of his home
he had been so proud to be able to buy
only a few months before
she’d planned to visit that same day
where she would now be a permanent guest
we transferred the ashes
mixed with the powder of pulverized bone
from the simple wooden box
into the ceramic urn I had helped him to choose
decorated with wine colored roses
fearful I was witnessing my own future