Long Droplets Poems
Long Droplets Poems. Below are the most popular long Droplets by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Droplets poems by poem length and keyword.
The land is soaked with blood
The sand is soaked with tears
Oh
How many barrels of blood must be spilled
to know that so many souls are gone?
How many basins of tears does it take
to have more than enough tears?
.
I am the voice of the little child
crying in the wilderness
I want to caress the flowers that spring
out of the ground of my homeland
I want to watch the ripples when rain falls
I want to play with my mates on the sand
along Chu Ngoke street
I want to sit at home and watch my parents returning from a bountiful yam harvest
I want to stand at the playground and watch the traditional wrestling
I want to hear the sounds of Egelege and Egoni talking drums reminding me of yesterday and a great future ahead
I want to chase away goats from eating the maize in my mother's garden
I want to open my mother's pot
and pick a meat out of the soup
I want to see my homeland
Sweet little home of ours
Please take me back to Alode
Please take me back to Alode
.
I am the voice of a man
Whose hope lies in shackles
Whose homeland lies in broken images
A town deserted and forgotten
I am tired of being a stranger
in another man's land
I am tired of begging for crumbs
When my barn is filled with yam
Mudskippers can still be found in our swamps
Please take me back to Alode
I don't want to die in another man's land
I want to die in Alode, somewhere in Eleme
I want to be buried near the grave of my father and see my ancestors usher
me home with a shinning crown
Take me back home
Take me back home
.
Take me back to Alode
Let me see the beautiful women that
toss about the streets
Let me admire their buttocks
Let me stare at their breasts,
those two round objects protruding out
of their clothes, breasts that could make me feel like a child again
Let me kiss Nyime Owa Eleme, that beautiful lady of my dream
Let me lay her down on my bedside and
make life worthwhile
I want to go back home and see
the sunshine with it's illuminous rays
and the tender droplets of the rain
Oh Please take me back to Alode
Please take me back to Alode
.
Take me back to Alode
Let me touch your borders
From Alesa to Ogale
From Echieta to Onne and
From Ebubu to the Onu Nmu where they say the hands cannot reach
I want to touch the land of Alode
I want to touch the Eleme soil
I want to touch the soft green grasses of home
.......
I leaned back and rubbed my work – weary
eyes as the stress of teaching left my
mind.
The children were playing a few yards away from me.
Their cheerful laughter could easily be heard above the
din of voices.
I checked on them briefly, then turned to the sky that
stretched out in a seamless blue. Occasional clouds
floated by.
It was a beautiful day to be out. I was glad that I had decided
to take a break from work and bring the kids to the park. My
husband agreed whole hearted
The children had jumped at the opportunity to go
play there; though it didn’t have much for play
equipment.
Despite the slight sheen of rust on the slide and
the dull pin pricks on the wood swing, the kids loved the
decrepit playground.
However if the parents ever found out what the children did
on the fallen play ground, they would be most
certainly be shocked at the manner of it all. For those
parents had no notion of what those children hid.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I looked at my twin in earnest. He had to understand.
In order to save Lishon I had to go. Just had
to.
The river flowed before us with a vengeance. It was as if the
water was displeased with the rocks and it had taken upon
itself to punish them.
Jorden looked at me sadly at the thought of jumping.
He knew that it would cost me my life if I
did.
“You just can’t Clarisa. If you jump the Noli will take over
Lishon and without you at the archers command they
will vanquish us.”
“Yes, but if the river is not quieted, our armies will drown.
As the Shana of the sea I must have control: just as you must
control the evergreen and the willow.”
“That’s different and you know it. The sea is fickle and
will turn its tide with little concern but to toss you from
its grave.”
“Jorden I must do what I must and not you, nor
the Noli, nor the Glifon , nor even the Great Shuka can
stop me.”
“Watch what you say Clarisa or the Great Shuka will
stop you.” Jorden’s features softened after this warning.
He knew.
I looked at my twin affectionately. For all that he
was, Shano of all trees and animals on land, he was
still my brother.
“Should I not return, defend Lishon with all you have. If
all goes well the frilena shall bloom once more in Lishon’s
courtyard.”
Jorden’s eyes glimmered like the wisps of freed droplets
from the surge of the cataclysmic rapids that was once calm.
He knew.
~ Precious-tears-offered in-faith ... fall, God-catches them places
them, within His Souls heavenly-amphora, and with a sway of His Mighty Hand,
plucks-up His eminent-Knowledge-honed by Holy Quill. ~
~ Upright ... and looking strait into His vision for us of the new day. Offers
the many consummate opportunities riding high on the fringe of His
promise, granted in welcome. Painting a Holy Journey, evolving amid
a certain solace and freedom. Moving on into veracious days with Him
lasting on forever. Exiting beyond higher lofts of earthly sky's and rolling
lands advancing in humble reverence descending down from the openness
of the Heavens. Rewriting yet again; another-story in person for each individual.
Yes for all life; far-greater and-even-greater still ... than the others gone before. ~
~ Carrying within it ... the treasures revealed of Him strewn about found soaring
aloft the reality of Him granted and awakened devout of their surrender. Whispering,
of the latter days grateful of the many gone by. ~
~ As tender kisses resinating from-His heart of-mercy, grace-the folds-
every-nook-and-cranny-of the-lands. The-fullness-of His-consciousness-
the very-presence-of His-greater-hope ... has-placed-its-sweetness-rising-up-
in its-essence. Within-lowly-laying-effervescent; droplets-glistening-in the-
light, of His-joyous-rejoinder. Given for all; in love. Carried-in the-honest-
taste-the-freshness; of the precious morning-dew, and-in her-innocence;
truth; e'er-aware; and-seeing this-and being-fond of-His-presence thriving-within-
the-relative-ease and-dancing amid-the peace, emanating-from the-perfect-fruition-
of His-love. ~
~ Moves-to-cherish too, the-pureness ...
of-the-union ... ~
~ While rising, in-a blaze-of His-Glory; from the ashes of the past. A
new-day budding in the-wake of-its-freedom. Amid royal fields-growing-
still-fragrant more brilliant elaborate; of lavender. Has felt the-pleasure
of-His passion too, and-given the true-warmth and goodness-He has-always
been-open to provide. ~
~ Pausing-amid this beauty seen still rising in-spite-of-this out-of-the-ashes-
of-the-hate of the days of our past.
His-love remains, abides-for-us.
Why not-we-too all-move, to-look-to-cherish this like the-innocent; in their
freedom are-always striving ... to-do? ~
Every morning, I steal longing glances at the most spellbinding creature I have ever cast my two eyes upon,
Her skin is pale and lifeless, wearing a peculiar looking amulet draped across her neck,
I cannot help myself to stare, as she engulfs her lunch meat in only a few vicious bites like some sort of evil spawn,
Whenever I cross her path, I feel like a deer in headlights; turning into a nervous wreck.
Her alluring features of dark hazel eyes and fire truck red lips call to me from across the office,
At the call of my name, I scamper towards my desire like a cowardly pup,
My heart begins to pound out of my chest, her pointed ears perk up and I remain cautious,
With music to my ears she exclaims, “You are my date to the Halloween office party tonight,’ I just thought I would give you the heads-up.”
With long black finger nails, she carves her address into the palm of my hand,
I glance down at the blood oozing out of my fresh wounds and she playfully smirks,
With a sloppy lick from her magnificent tongue the wound seals and I am ready to give her a wedding band,
The fiery hot blood I feel thrashing around in my veins every time I touch her, feels like exploding fireworks.
That night, I arrive at the address that may potentially scar my soft tender flesh,
Before I can knock, a clawed hand grips me tight lugging me into the front hall,
I am immediately blindfolded and I hear her deep growl, “My dear, I just need a moment to refresh.”
The room is cool and damp, I scurry to remove the blindfold to become aware of my surroundings above all.
Unfortunately to my defeat, I hear the jingle and sharp pull back of chains restraining me to the stone wall,
The warm breath and droplets of fallen drool on the back of my neck make me shriek,
Not a soul can hear the disgraceful, desperate cries and pleas I begin to call,
Now I know why people say to never date your monster of a co-worker, as she kisses my cheek.
I flail and bash my arms and legs trying to desperately swing and knock her off her feet,
I feel her filthy nails ripping into my chest,
In a soft growl she mentions something about my blood being sweet,
With a deafening howl the horrid situation puts my body to rest.
September 25, 2018
Scary or Spooky poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
6th Place
Take me Away, Alive or Awake
by ~CrimsonSmolder
In the lands of consumption
On the edge that is so narrow
Take me away; alive or awake
Take me away; by force or compulsion
Oh malicious being you..
Capture me whole and breathing
Drug me high
And pain me less
And you shall gain
What other lacked to impress
In a room so velvet
Blood is mistaken for carpet
Curtains turn to shadows
Take me there; Alive or awake
Lay me down on a bed of roses
In a dress of scarlet and pale light black
With hair so curly that shines solid lust
Where candles are lit and halos are exposed
Drug me high
To pain me less
As I stare in those passionate eyes of black
Genuine, yet unveiling
As the drug gives me nausea but keeps me awake
I Lay so still, so wordless
As you rid me from my clothes slowly and gently
And I just stare into those exquisite eyes of yours
Lashes as dark and long
I stare onto that black soft hair
As it falls perfectly to all sides
That built muscular rigid torso and lean abs
That open shirt of yours waiting for the skin to expose
You put yours hands to my sides
Tough yet it feels so soft
As you enter me whole
Introducing feelings of excitement, of tension, of delight
Yet I still lay motionless and still
With eyes so indifferent
And a heart beating so fast
And yet you pause, and produce a dagger
Hidden in thee black silk
Its poison, peering silver, visible at the hilt
I notice, but no reaction follows
You pierce me lightly in the neck and breast
Slipping it lightly, yet in some places deeper into the skin
You lower your aim and strike it slowly yet smotherly to my stomach
A bit of blood escapes my mouth; you wipe it tentatively with your hand
You aim lower, cut deep into the abdomen
Yet you continue to kiss me, and caress my check, leaving scars of red everywhere
Droplets of a beautiful color ooze soothingly from thee cuts
A feeling of lust consumes me
A rage of vulnerability conquers me
A sick pleasure overwhelms me
I try. I will.
And I produce all might to put my hands behind your neck
My legs around your waist
And I kiss you and love you
And sense fades yet the heart still wants
Still lusts, still orders
Yet the blood continues to pour
The body begins to suffer
And pain a bit I begin to sense
As I wince, surrendering my arms to my chest
There's a 2nd part, please do read it c:
In a far-away land hot moist less air rises up to the heavens in a single file, heavy with the echoing cries of drought
It meets a blanket of cold moist air of the stratosphere descending, air that is saturated with the cries of those to be rescued
Their meeting forms the platform of life, hydrogen and oxygen atoms exploding into a volatile environment, exploding into life
They collide at sub-sonic speeds, defying even the laws that govern the speed of light
Water vapor has been produced; a giant congregation of mystified water droplets has been issued
Majestic cumulus-nimbus clouds are the offspring; they are the ones we dream of touching, the ones we yearn to ride
I watch them grow and cover the skies in white, I watch as they slowly become the benguelas of my childhood
Carrying the dreams of the forgotten towards the heavens, bringing them close to the audience of the Gods
They brewed…. I watched as the benguelas metamorphose into their second form, their true form
Watched as the white inside them gets drained until only the dark remains intact
Waited as the friction of atoms created a static that summoned electric photons to line up into a lightning bolt
They introduced us to a spectacle that even today, scientists cannot explain this phenomenon
The hours elapsed and yet they moved closer, persistent in halving the distance between our two realms
The hours elapsed and yet they grew darker still, letting themselves become inked in the souls of the dark
“It begins with a slight breeze encapsulating leaves in rhythmic motions”, a slight whisper of a promise to be fulfilled
A whisper of the benguela`s will to replenish the life blood of thee earth…… water
They arrive in silence, riding on the soundless winds of their ancestors
They`re presence felt with the echoes of raindrops that smash into the terra
These shadow riders emerge at the most opportune moment
They brewed for kilometers; thunder rumbled for hours, they flashed lightning for countless seconds….. Finally they`ve arrived
Travelling on the winds of their ancestors, deeply rooted in their sacred traditions of giving water to the dwellings embedded in the earth`s atmosphere
They brewed…….. Finally the rains have come
I watched as they grew, I watched as they flew, I watched as THEY BREWED
Inside a grotto scooped out by a wealthy earl for his seated pleasure,
There sat a bard amidst the edelweiss strung 'round the hole of leisure.
Fallen droplets of acidic water pitter-pattered in echoes across the cave,
Slowly weathering away its leaky limestone layers as would a mason's lathe.
The bard, whose unimportant name shall be dismissed, strung away at his lyre,
Tickling its strings with unclipped fingertips which pick up songs from every wire.
Mediocrity had once been the nemesis to the boyish bard in his recent youth,
But now, after endless nights of practice, his expertise needed little proof.
He grew bored, however, with the memorized music that his body hummed,
From hypnotic and melodic languid limbs, which on their own had strummed.
Seated that evening on the edge of the grotto's bank,
He put down his lyre as both his eyes into the water sank.
"I am but twenty-six years-old and I've already come to master," he pined,
"Trading tales told inside of tunes; what more on Earth for me is there to dine?
Have I drunk the goblet dry in but a gulp?
Have I swallowed the savory pie in but a bite?
And have I been denied, in gluttony, the right to dessert?
Please, oh motherly moon, dearest Selene,
What more is there for my life to mean?"
During his pouting pitiful preponderances of apathetic patheticism,
A scattered image on his own reflection distracted him from his pessimism.
An eidolon of Endymion appeared before the startled bard,
And he held within phantasmal hands a deck of playing cards.
"My name is Endymion and I once walked awoken in Earthen woods,
Until I fell in love with Hera before her husband banished me for good.
I succumbed to an endless and dreamless slumber, but I can now see,
You fear you already lived your life and will be put to rest like me.
Yet life is but a game of Pitch, there are highs and lows and jacks and game,
Which is scored in not one hand but rounds whose cards will never be the same.
You've played your hand well in an entertaining trade, as you have felt,
So now its time to shuffle the deck and play with cards that've yet been dealt."
With that the ghost of Endymion drifted back into his eternal sleep,
And the bard in the grotto grinned and eagerly forgot why he did just weep.
Suspended . . . tormented, in a mind so distant
I arrive at the said destination with a sigh. . .
What I expect is mortifying
What lies ahead still remains a meddlesome mystery
The air is thin—the water droplets seem. . . warm
But I feel a coldness when they hit my skin
The skin that only once touched your hand. . . . .
It is comforting when surrounded by shadow
To feel the soft embrace of long-yearned rain
It is dully consoling to know I am Alone. . .
Chemical reactions are made in instances
Each second of despair heightened by the electrical pulses
Going mad when the waters clash
And the feelings of comfort are gone yet again
The thoughts that used to hold me up
Have collapsed from under me
And Alone is felt in a new shade…darker than the shadow of comfort
The tears replace the rain. . .
Boiling the skin on my face to redden and shame
The burn provides little distraction to despair
Knowing the one I love will never be here. . .
Even now I envy those who can speak…
Who scoff and spit—and whine, groveling in grit
Those who can see and clearly feel their enemy
How they spiritually dispose of their peer
Through lack of understanding and jeer
I would much easier embrace my darkest enemy,
Than be with the one I love
I would much rather abuse myself
Than lay a finger on the precious one who wrongs me
Because you have abandoned all thought of me. . .
Through your life and innocence,
You have harmed me—wronged me. . .
You were mistaken. . . .I can never understand you
Because I have never truly seen you
At times I can almost feel you. . .
But all I feel is pain
All I feel is the burning rain. . .
I envy those around you. . .
Like the madman straight out of prison
I even envy your opposers
In truth, I obsess over the thought
Of Alone:
The definition of “Without You”
. . .
Without you here,
I arrive at no destination
What lies ahead is only despair
The rain I feel . . . are tears—
Comforts that never last
And all that used to hold me up
Is merely a heart-broken collapse. . .
I never wished to cling onto your nonexistence. . .
Believe me—
All I ever wanted. . .
Was a thought
A. . .chemical reaction if you will
A simple “I am here for you”. . .
Without you, Alone, I confess,
Sometimes one can only dream
the mountains groaned, repulsed
by the distant grumble of thunder’s rough
voice rising on the edges of the dark
stirring the distant gaze of a still twilight
flooded with shadows, hasty halos
remembering what comes, after the storm
the gentle pelting, pretty droplets
erasing the murmur of leaves, dancing
crisp as the shadows, forever trembling
a certain power beneath the streams
pouring out their feelings, on hills
burning with laughter, seeking the night
where a brilliant lavender sky
sings to the explosion of light…
You are there, in the prayer
melting away the pain, the despair
quieting the music of a storm
who knows my most intimate yearnings
the muse of a promise, coursing
through veins of light, inklings
of a lost moment, when melancholy
sings, so alive on the still skies
where floods of water, stream, breaking
through the forest, woodsy scents
like pine and moss, delicate
overpowering the still muse.
In the center of this storm,
an ache, a presence, so forlorn
you pour out light from your warm,
you restore peace to my heart
you remind my soul, you’re the One
who tells the winds to blow,
who shows the moon its glow
who breaths hope into the flow
of wistful showers, all the hours
a storm who is sent to show
every heart, the music of hope
as a song fades from the soul
who hears the wind
and heeds the stirring
of a prayer beneath the dark
praising You, my heart’s renown
my spirit’s peace,
my great belief…
You are the One
who colors my love
with grace and joy
a gentle knowing – that Your love
will guide me through the storm,
never allowing me to worry,
always freeing me so I know
You are the One who will lead me on,
to a distant home, a heaven who knows
this is love – from God above,
the One who tells the storm to grow
the One who tells the storm to go
the One who tells the storm to restore
gentle peace to the mountain and shore
a still, cool breath from the spirit of grace,
peace that is more than a heart can expect,
the love that assures me You won’t reject.
In the eye of the storm…
You are my relief, my consolation, my security
the answer to my prayer for a still, sweet beautiful
who can prepare my heart to see
beyond the storm, to the eternal singing, its urgent touch.
Written: April 14, 2025 for contest sponsored by Brian Strand
******************
The subject matter of this poem explores themes of transience, intersection of life and death, and the fragile coexistence of human and natural worlds.
a loaf of discounted bread
stale & crumbly
resides in a brown paper bag
teetering
on a park bench
a finger of cool breath
_____nudges
____________the
________________bag
___________________towards
ground
pile of used cigarettes
gathered by
a trash
can
&
an
array
of greasy
fast food, styrofoam cups
a souring banana milkshake
punctured through
---a rotting apple
core
&
an
assemblage
of stale and wizened
McDonald's medium fries
family of pigeons
peck at brown paper
bag--
it topples over &
spills its guts
across
grass
a swan watches from a pond
--eyes peer--
from its snowy face
water cushions every ounce
of its body
caresses every single
feather
sky is a petri-dish
c r a m m e d
with scarlet c l o u d s
a young girl falls
as her size four sneaker
is caught
on a hidden tree root
swan chuckles
to itself
a college student bites
into a decorated
hot dog
condiments slip
his button-down
shirt &
a swan extends its wings
a platform for sun
as droplets of
crystalline water
sparkle off surface
of each
feather