Long Dowse Poems
Long Dowse Poems. Below are the most popular long Dowse by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dowse poems by poem length and keyword.
the sex is good
the company is better
the times they have bring new laughs that carry on into the rest of the day
the smiles they share are
brought into other aspects of their lives &
the ability to be jealous
isn’t supposed to be there
because everything is cool
man
everything is cool---
but when not together,
s/he is chomping at the bit,
****, s/he’d dowse her nails in fertilizer
if s/he thought she could grow them back faster
(just to bite them all off again),
nervous at the thought that at any moment
the other party
with which so much fun is being had
now, is banging away the night
with someone who very well could be better at sex &
even better company,
whose laughs might carry on even further into the week &
whose smiles might even be brighter---
then the thought that paralyzes
comes into focus,
that the last time they were together
could have been the last time they will ever be together
because the person that they are out with right now
could replace them &
the phone stares up at them
(but they can’t call, no that isn’t cool) &
the individual letter keys whisper
“text text text away”
(but they can’t do that either, not cool, not cool)---
so the wait throughout the day
seems worthless,
because if they had never met this other individual
this topsy-turvy
nightmare
would not be occurring---
so it eats & it eats & it eats at her/him,
that what s/he wants to be serious
has to stay on casual footing
because to try & push it any further
might just push away the other person
who is having fun with the way things are,
so they try to comfort themselves
making deals with their own psyche
that if the other person doesn’t commit at said date
that they will up & go,
to find someone that will.
carousing through the net & pausing to finger the thinning spots on his scalp
remembering the moments when women in his earlier life would run their fingers through the flowing locks---
having watched his compadres become cue-balls or
slowly peppering away individuals on their way to
pure silver,
he stumbled upon an herbalist blog that
discussed pouring peppermint oil
upon his noggin to stimulate the follicles of
his hair
in hopes that he would be handsome again.
vanity provided the impetus to push our man in
question
to purchase his peppermint oil
and to dowse his head in the straight substance
in hopes of growing hair
throwing much caution to the wind
running with the advice of the
herbalist.
in no time at all his head began to cool
it cooled to the point of freezing & then the
freezing began to burn & then the burning
began to numb his whole head until the feeling
seemed to creep inside his throat
panging at his temples & he
found himself sitting on his
knees in front of the toilet
trying to make himself puke
but the sickness jerked at
him as if it would never
quite stop.
he stuck his index finger down his throat
forcing himself to vomit &
though the vomiting took his
mind off the sickening
numbness of his whole
head, it only did so for a few seconds---
he crawled on hands & knees to his bed,
laying there in a world of brand new pain
until morning when he awoke from a sleep he
somehow attained---
after rolling out of a skull-crashing dream
he threw away the oil &
not a hair grew anywhere near his head.
THE HAUNTED HOUSE
While on a tour across the Scottish highland moor
one summer noon I stopped by a Victorian house.
Curious, I entered through the half-closed door,
a dark room filled with antiques I could browse.
In the eerie air before I could call out loud, “anybody in”
the creaking wooden door closed sharply behind me.
In the alarmed mind I pressed the panic button within,
for with all the doors closed the way out I couldn’t see.
I shivered with the creepy feeling of being trapped,
saw a shadowy figure appear in the murky hallway,
as if striding in air into the sinister room he stepped.
Saw his scalded fiery face before he turned it away.
Scared I wailed, “I’m sorry I entered”, as he came near,
“please help, open the door for me, out I should go”.
He looked at me, a single word I didn’t hear him utter.
He walked silently to the door in a floating stride slow.
How he opened so softly the heavy door I couldn’t see,
I rushed out in a breath to the open in flood of sunlight.
Before I could turn back quickly the door closed on me,
I couldn’t say “thank you”, the man was out of sight.
In nearby village I queried about the man and the house,
I’m told if anyone lived in the haunted house they’d know.
In the outhouse fire that took them a long time to dowse
the lone caretaker was burnt to death some two years ago.
August 22, 2018
Contest : The Haunted House
Spnsored by : Dear Heart
With a voice ornamented in ogled tension
you ask me,
like vulnerable flesh queries warm obsession,
Do you mean to love me this way...
on your mouth, a hold of hope I see
to you I say...
Does the sun choose to flare into sapphire atmosphere,
Does the moon decide who's eyes to enchant,
Does a rose ponder its tempt,
Does a man dare his heart relent,
Does a woman wonder whence came her allure and dare,
A heatwave of heartache's swelter swells over your soul
as the outcry of orgulous omens try to defy our survival,
blood drops fall lonesomely from the old body of a lark
a steeple bell broken by the thunder of sorrow in the dark,
gold found burning into rivulets reaching into graveyard rock,
you begin to weep
because the weight of worry waylays your wishes for our eternity,
I surround you with a love shield that shames the arrows of agony
kissing you softly deep,
then I tell you that fate is not our enemy,
don't you understand my Lady...
Sultans cannot buy or sell the feelings we share,
Emperors unable to enforce the silence of our hearts,
rivals are but ridiculous in attempt to dowse our flame,
Time be trite in march against the magic in our care,
the poetry of our purpose will not be censored by cynical marks,
emotions erratic in wrath will not wrest the roots from which our passion came -
J.A.B.
While on a tour across the moor of the Scottish highland,
one summer noon I stopped by a grand Victorian house.
Curious, I entered silently through the half-closed door,
in the half-dark room a pile of antiques I could see .
In the eerie stillness before I could call out, “anybody in”,
the creaking wooden door closed sharply behind me.
In the alarmed mind I pressed the panic button within,
for with all the doors closed the way out I couldn’t find.
As I shivered with the creepy feeling of being trapped,
saw a faint figure approach through the misty hallway,
as if floating on thin air he came into the sinister room,
I saw his scalded deformed face before he turned it away.
As he came near I wailed scared, “please open the door”,
Icy eyes looked at me, but a single word he didn’t utter.
How he opened so softly the heavy door I didn’t know,
I rushed out in a breath outside in the flood of sunlight.
In nearby village I queried about the man living in that house,
nobody saw any hint of life coming from the house of the dead,
for in the outhouse fire that took a very long time to dowse,
the lone caretaker was burnt to death some two years ago.
February 13, 2021
Contest : Ghost
Sponsor : Julia Ward
On a tour across the Scottish highland moor,
one summer noon I stopped by a grand Victorian house.
Curious, I entered silently through the half-closed door,
in the semi-dark room a pile of antiques I could only see .
In the creepy silence before I could say “anybody in”,
the creaking wooden door closed sharply behind me.
Alarmed to the core, I pressed the panic button within,
for with the door closed the way out I couldn’t find.
As I shivered with the eerie feeling of being trapped,
saw a faint figure approach through the hazy hallway,
as if floating in thin air he came in the sinister room,
I saw his scalded face before he turned it away.
As he came near I wailed petrified, “please open the door”,
he didn’t move nor did he utter a single word,
but how he softly opened the heavy door I didn’t know.
I rushed out in a breath outside in the sunlight flood.
In nearby village I queried about the man of that house,
nobody saw hint of life in the haunted house of the dead,
for in the outhouse the fire that took a long time to dowse,
the lone caretaker was burnt to death some two years back.
October 13, 2021
Contest : Ghost Lace
Sponsor : Chantelle Anne Cooke
fall out of the mainstream & walk in the wilderness,
leave the city structure & swim in the sea
leave the sea & run within the bowels of the city’s mechanism for
pollution
cleanse yourself in the absence of purity that comes with staring at yourself in a mirror for over 24 hours
(witnessing only the sounds of that staggering silence that is brought with a pondering wandering within the mind’s repertoire)---
dowse the tent in your back yard with kerosene &
lay down inside it,
then after ingesting you favorite mixed bag of psychedelic cocktails,
chomping up all the plants you found round you,
light the match n’
drift back---
surviving the fire & not yet meshing into oblivion with the
vibrant flames,
sit down at the PC
sit down in the park with your pad & pen
sit down in the sandbox with your index finger,
and write out on a day that isn’t quite windy
just what you have experienced---
fold it up,
save it on a USB & package it nicely in an envelope,
following this,
write your down your own address, slap the proper postage on it
and drop it in the dark blue box---
now,
sit home biting your nails till’ they bleed,
waiting for your revealed word to come to you
direct.
Stream of errant emotion spurts out of your mind,
scathing currents erode the brittle banks.
The mistaken course pervades unrelentably,
and drowns deep the pieces of my broken heart.
If compassion could change the aberrant channel,
within contours of forgiveness I’d embrace you.
You’d find ahead a turning meander for the soul
that would flow to the placid bay of bliss.
You stoke the contrived fire of betrayal,
consuming the canopy of verdant longing.
The flame rages uncontrollably untamed,
and burns the flowers together we'd bloomed.
If tolerance could dowse the deviant fire,
I’d shower divine rains of forgiveness on you.
You’d find silver lining around melting clouds,
and we'll walk life to the realm of rainbow.
For God bestows mercy on mortal sinners,
to err is human; to forgive, divine.
(Inspired by : "To err is human; to forgive, divine" - Alexander Pope.)
February 7, 2020
Contest : Famous Poetic Lines 2
Sponsor : Silent One
May 17, 2020
Contest : Brian's Choice H
Sponsor : Brian Strand
I lived a life of sorrow and pain
No rest for the weak, no hope of gain
A trapped soul and broken heart
A lack of love from the start
A spark of hope hastily smothered
A glimpse of light quickly covered
No choice in life but to cower in fear
Forced to sit and drown in my tears
"Don't make a sound and don't talk back
Do what you're told. Don't give us flack!"
I sink deeper in a pit of despair
I cry inside, "this isn't fair!"
Then water couldn't dowse, sand couldn't smother
A certain spark of truth in another
When the truth came out and the culprit was caught
We finally let go of the lies we were taught
I escaped a life of lies and deceit
Now it's up to me to stand on my feet
Now I start over... let go of the past
A new life is mine... the old, outcast
Now I smile as joy floods my soul
I know happiness now and my life feels whole
I've let go of my past. It's over and done
But my future is bright like the shinning sun
As life has a way of letting us know,
There are two destinations of which way to go.
Should we follow our hearts and dreams?
Or let them flow away like a beautiful stream?
Who is really in control of here and now?
Your feelings are strongly beginning to prowl.
Professing your pleasurable inner cravings,
May not satisfy your wishful tastings.
To remain silent may be the ultimate shame.
Dare one say?.. Or should one dowse the flame?
With no intentions of destroying any life.
Oh, how struggles intrude to the extent of strife.
Perhaps share your mind and love will soon follow.
Allow the knowledge so we may indulge and wallow.
Will they be willing with their arms wide open?
Or will they remain in the life they have chosen?
The decision must find a way to be tranquil,
For both deserve happiness and bliss of ample.
All in due time will we commence that walk.
While minutes go by...tick tock...tick tock...