Long Dreadful Poems
Long Dreadful Poems. Below are the most popular long Dreadful by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dreadful poems by poem length and keyword.
Quiet brain quite norm hit by groaning gust
like sudden bomb blast.
bursting in cyclonic storm of lies and betrayal
drowning me in dreadful dismal.
Me diffused shattered
confused battered
in whirl pool of vortex of agony and anxiety.
Fractured brain lost its ego and vanity.
caused by frictional force of emotional injury
and needed another emotional surgery.
My radiant refulgent brain waves
turned seismic shock waves.
putting my environ surreal and grave.
Brain seemed to slumber,
senses sank in stagnant harbour.
Consciousness smothered,
yet I have not bothered.
Solely devastated in destructive tornado
No ray of hope came through any window
thrashing brain in turmoil.
all dreamy desires got coiled.
Severe scars salient
Dense deep bruises prominent.
showing damage permanent..
Yet Time is the best healer on slow recovery.
Wounds became inactive blunt
My inherent dynamism gave stunt.
bringing sullen brain back to normal form putting energy balm.
Mental strength refreshed, brain became cool and calm.
Waiting for ardent amour and compassion.
welcoming fresh emotional involvement
with pearly passion.
Outside, the night was gathering strength
How swift our lightning Sputnik,
Out running the speed of sound and light
Shot into space with a violent jerk
At a distance were luminous spheres
Suspended like glowing lanterns
Comets and meteors in hyper space
Seemed more like diffused patterns
An asteroid came whizzing towards us.
I closed my eyes in dreadful shock,
Fearing a terrible head on collision.
Thank God! It deviated from our track!
I looked at my friend seated beside
Obviously not here, lost in thought!
Looking down, I saw Mother Earth
A luminous ball, not bigger than a sapphire dot
Oh! How quickly we landed on Mars
It is so different from what I had learnt
Neither a barren belt of sterile terrain
Nor a rugged stretch of craters burnt
But a heavenly place so cool and serene
Full of scintillating scenes and ravishing sights
We, the emissaries from a faraway land,
Were warmly greeted by a team of alien sprites
The weight of the world suddenly lifted from us.
We bounced up and down almost floating in the air
Found ourselves in a gorgeous garden,
With springing fountains and blossoms fair.
Trees were laden with dazzling gems
Lagoons and lakes of liquid silver
Vast expanse of tawny vistas
Plains waving with luxuriant verdure
What fun…! Hmm…over there,
Nothing like what’s seen on planet Earth
A herd of animals so strange and rare
Grazing on red grass in a canyon of great width
Our eyes were agog to scan all around.
Accelerating our pace in rising delight,
Eager to explore every bit of ground,
We moved forward with enthusiastic gait.
* * * * * * * * *
As no one has so far set foot on this land,
We can call imagination to our aid,
To describe it as heavenly or hellish,
A luminous sphere or a terrain of dark shade.
As if a child should understand an adult’s muddle,
putrid oil slick puddle,
the dreadful pain we foist on wide-eyed offspring.
Robotic elders crush with rigid slabs of Portland censure whatever spark remains in those tiny rosebud cheeks before their prime.
Those innocents should never have to wrap their nascent minds around the wanton desecration of intertidal lakeland wetness gradients,
the callous douse of velvet purple algerita berries,
blighted by the stark timbre cloud forms
that recklessly pour bile on every genus.
The rug rats at our feet may never know the joys of sap-addicted sugar gliding nocturnal possums, whose acrobatic tree to tree mirror ball exploits mock Isaac Newton,
or the kinkajou of tail grip fame who flaunt their tan glow wooly fur coat in broad daylight,
or the dawn to dusk fennec fox, that doughty eagle owl and jackal dodger whose kissing cousin dens pockmark terracotta forests. But not alone in wider worlds are children being deprived.
A heartless milieu also asks our clutch and clan to dwell in
alloy girder mousetraps, those pale decor rat infested tumble downs gouged out by scrimp and scrape rust bucket caterpillars.
Beyond belief we tolerate the nick and hoist elevator,
that pressure cooker transit flight abduction of the harried wage slave parent,
those cotton garment dress code senseless
dragonfly stand-ins that hover in mid air.
There’s every chance we’ll leave our nursling’s ire to future bands of mutant stem cell rockers who are duty bound to sculpture rimshots meshed in suckling chimes,
when validating rawhide rattle chainsaw fret board anthems
at crowd mosher mud fests,
where rivers of apocalyptic visions burst the bank.
If only grown ups listened to that inner vocal quiver that we
may not yet have cast into plastic resin folly for the generations weaned in toxic smoke rooms,
we’d pollinate a luscious fairground acorn dotted garden with childhood zest its one and only buzzword.
A sweet treat gift with natural flavour pending,
eternal life for baby planet daisy chains of tender petal linkage,
who‘d finally experience pure clutter free environments,
an eco world that values new born thirst for natural realms
It's five o'clock, she checks her watch, at last the work day's done
Her forehead pounds, a coke is found, she gulps two aspirin down
Walking through the parking lot, a cell phone to her ear
Three calls to make, six texts must wait, until she reaches home
A dreadful day, is worsened now, by a cocktail shade of smog
Too dazed by crazy sitcoms that seem to fill her life,
on an escalator going up or down, to nowhere in the strife
A contrail stream of traffic noise, is brandished against her ears
The snail-paced freeway travelogue, a prequel to the dialogue
that sails into her blue-tooth buds, enhances all that aches
The modem in her deep-fried brain is in a dismal state.
Just blogs of malware, here and there, is skyjacked by the haze.
She fails to see a taxicab, in the multiplex of cars
A screech of brakes, a near escape, it's not her first mistake
The rushing, crushing motorcade, can't stop to see her scars
The escapade, the glitzy parade, no shelter from the beat
The drum that pounds, the sounds that come, awake or fast asleep
The docudrama of her life has muddied up her brain
Dumbfounded, by the life she leads, is lost before it's found
Some think, perhaps the gods are crazy, (at least that's what some say)
I think, instead, it's not the gods, but folks who've lost the way
________________________________________________________
1/6/15
For Contest: "The Gods Must Be Crazy" Sponsor: John Lawless
I hate wet socks.
I'm knee-deep with diapers floating by.
The steel stairs steps (that go up!)
Just 10 feet from me.
Seawater pouring in from every orifice.
I'd be dead already if I had not bribed the head caterer.
Snagged me a spot 2 levels up
From what is now completely submerged.
I start breast-stroking it through the brackish,
Freezing water.
If I had kids I'd be out of my mind right now.
Tilt! We're tilting!
Arm-straining though sideways-ing water now.
Made it to the steel bars but
Awkward as all heck making any progress.
Scaling Shroeder's stairs,
I hear sounds of mayhem above the open square
The steel stairs lead me.
Shouts of "3 boats left! 3 boats left!"
I emerge onto the upper level
And onto a sliding ballroom.
Hoisting my rump onto the dancefloor
I was met instantly by a wheeled baby carriage
Zooming into my face. No baby.
Black sea water was rushing through the windows
on the lower side of the flickeringly lit ballroom.
A martini glass, magically half-full, swerves into my sliding lap.
A pick it up and slug it back as I brace for
The ocean water I'm rushing towards.
I was 2nd place in breast stroke in the state.
I never thought it would come in handy.
That night I got 5 kids into the last few boats
And then went down with the ship.
Just before losing consciousness,
Descending into the dark oceanic abyss
I could still feel my dreadful socks.
My last thought, still,
Hating wet socks.
The Christmas trees reminds me so
Of Christmases from long ago
Gazing up at the tree so tall
When I were a young girl so small.
Back in the day, when things were tight
For us no pretty sparkling lights
Little candles lit up the tree
Flickering away merrily.
The fairy placed on top, up high
Was joy for my sisters and I
Just a paper dolly was she
Prettiest thing upon the tree.
Made with crepe paper was her dress
Which on and off we'd oft' times fetch
By the time us three girls were through
An awful mess she would look too.
A peek in the crackers we’d sneak
Those on the tree placed nice and neat
Not nearly so neat was the tree
Devoured by the terrible three.
Pretty baubles hung on the tree
Pity they broke so easily
Their usage could have been prolonged
If three rascals hadn’t come along.
So many times the tree was found
Tumbled down when we'd been around
Before mum saw the disarray
The dreadful three had run away.
Guilt, remorse and sorrow
are the unrepressible emotions making me restless...
as they revoke their dreadful images,
leaving hot sweat on my wrinkled pillow,
and though I did hurt nobody but me:
it's a wound that will keep bleeding,
never finding that source of heeling;
and the longer I deny it, the more it haunts me!
God, give me Your revelation on how I should live,
to avoid the pitfalls that can make me stray;
God, I desire nothing more than mercy and joy!
I tread at the thought of the coldest grave;
locked in a coffin, buried underneath the heavy and damp soil...
with no air to breath, and no sun to feel and no love to give!
God, when my time draws near, all the bells will toil;
and will some of Your angels watch over my resting place?
If the main reason for being born is to build moral and character,
which deeds you demand of me that I perform in Your sight?
My ancestors sinned and I, too, must pay that price:
being imperfect and committing all kinds of vanities,
and still You consider me Your child and shine light on my path!
How ungrateful could I be with all the loving-kindness,
and undeserved generosity you shower me with...
when guilt, remorse and sorrow are all I have?
The older I get, the more frightened I am and all the foolishness,
which was evident in my erroneous lifestyle, loses its effect
and grip on me, revealing itself in that contagious and ugly aspect;
and who could return to the sinful ways and do more harm to himself?
I advice others to heed and redeem themselves before time prevails,
and offers no other chance at salvation! When I will be dead,
this voice will cease to speak...and I won't be found where the evil spirits loom;
and without guilt, remorse and sorrow I will be another corpse in that tenebrous tomb!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
There are eminent personages among the enlisted grades,
Who deserve the utmost in respect and well-earned accolades.
These are the dedicated Sergeants of whom I speak,
Who guide the strong and encourage the weak!
Steadfast leaders whom commanders rely upon,
When they need to get the tough jobs done.
Never-bending sturdy oaks in the face of adversity,
Possessing traits held by few - loyalty and integrity!
Sergeants descend from a long and distinguished tradition,
Following those who faithfully served with great distinction.
Proudly wearing chevrons bestowed upon a privileged few,
And setting high standards for generations that will ensue!
From time immemorial through the present generation,
Brave men and women were led by Sergeants with dedication.
Dreadful loss of life and limb was, alas, sustained,
To ensure that our precious liberties were maintained!
I'm a proud member of this elite fraternity and brotherhood,
Ever marching arm in arm for the nation's common good.
Molding young patriots to defend our glorious heritage.
All serving this great nation with indomitable courage!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
When we first met everything was like a fairy
tale.
You were my prince and I was your princess.
In our beautiful kingdom love reigned.
Love reigned until you found a new love
named Jack Daniel.
In the beginning you could deal with Jack
and you didn't let him alter your mind.
But I can remember like yesterday when Jack
was in control,
On that day I was your enemy and an instant
punching back.
I wasn't a equal opponent nor a sparring partner.
You beat me within a inch of my life.
The next day I told you about our dreadful match.
You had began to cry because you didn't remember
the event.
Not only did Jack alter and control your mind,
while under his influence you were not aware
of your actions.
You can be compared to a modern day zombie.
Back then I didn't know who you were under Jack’s
influence.
Until this day I try to forget those horrible memories,
As I gaze at you now I’m still in search of my prince.
10- 5-18
Inspired by Remembering What You Want To Forget contest.
In the smiting chill of a dreadful wintry night
When through every fiber n’ nerve, was the cold bite,
I was sitting cocooned beside my hearth,
Sipping a cup of steaming tea of my choicest blend.
Suddenly my attention was caught by something moving,
Through my window I saw a shadowy figure.
But who would dare to be out on such a night?
It was a night when winter slumber suddenly had grown,
Into a blizzard with blinding snow and hail flooding
When the land lay blanketed under snow’s strangulating clutch
When leafless trees stood motionless like spectral shadows
When animals stayed in their boroughs or dens in hibernation
But what I thought I had seen earlier
Was not a whim or a figment of my imagination.
I clearly saw someone walking, moving slowly or stealthily.
It disturbed me and I wanted to know who he was.
Unlikely to be a robber or a rogue with some sinister intent.
Could be a man who lost his way and needed urgent help.
Impelled by an irresistible urge to find out who he was,
I plunged myself into the sea of snow holding on to faith.
Faint moon light was shimmering between dancing snowflakes.
Not quite sure if I would find an enemy or a friend,
I walked on, pledging I would face what might come.
As I moved closer to that tottering figure
I realized he was someone half frozen in snow,
Desperately trying to get back home,
And I was on a divine mission to be the hands of God,
To direct a waylaid traveler back home,
And save a helpless soul from being frozen to death.
I don’t know what happened to that man beyond that night,
But am sure, he has survived many more winters,
And would be thankful to God for the providential help,
That saved his drowning life on such a fateful wintry night.
Now when I think of it, I feel even a bleak winter day,
Can be made bright by the power of kindness that we show.
It is the concern and preparedness to help someone in trouble,
That ignites our hearts with a divine spark and helps us connect.