Long Dungeon Poems
Long Dungeon Poems. Below are the most popular long Dungeon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dungeon poems by poem length and keyword.
I showed you inner sanctum of my heart
where truth and fantasy together lie
My scented rhymes were lover's guide and chart
unlocked my treasures were to searching eye
I showed you every splendor tinged in gold
a place were luxury was redefined
your hands I filled with more than you could hold
with chords of silken dreams I wished to bind
I sated you on Oriental sweets
and played the mistress to your every whim
into your craving mouth I placed my treats
so that your blazing love would never dim
But once you had your fill, my heart you left
A dungeon dark and dank of love bereft
Eileen
Invisible Walls
Imprisoned within my mind, thoughts
locked within fear’s wall-less room
pressing against the darkened light
trembling within the confines of my self
I dine upon the carcasses of doubt
nibbling on the choices never made
questioning each morsel of sad feast
chambered in the dungeon of mistrust.
Trust a mirrored wall of insecurity
reflecting curdled truth of jaundiced eyes
self loathing’s cursed containment
bound by indecision’s chains
lashing out at rage’s anger
echoing within these unseen walls
lone prisoner in tattered garb
sole resident of wall-less doom.
2/22/2016
submitted to – Second Chance – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Broken Wings
1888 the year of terror and fear
throats slitted open from ear to ear
JACK THE RIPPER preying on the road
He 's spooky and wears a black coat
In the evenings his skills paint red lace
so good at his job,he kills as he plays
In Croaky Moors hiding his shadows
roaming in alleys and meadows
Five victims ,Five whores slasshed to death
Breasts thorn apart,their hearts on the bed
a stalker,a cannibal in East End of London
drinking in bars,His hiding a dungeon
The prostitutes tongues pulled out from their roots
sending the killer in the best of his moods
Years passed come and gone,each dusk cover dawn
five ghosts are heard aching in one brutal moan
Jack's name still an echo in the narrow back streets
Soul's blood is still shedding,for justice it pleads
Scothland yard officers were being fooled
from "Hell" and "Dear Boss"letters,Jack ruled
Ruben and i tried to capture this cold blooded guy,
but we'll pass it on to J.R, Investigator with Style
Go for it John...
-------------------------CHARMA
Jesus did not say "worship me," but rather "follow me,"
a vast difference, like a sunrise that illuminates the path,
one gives you the power to rise, to fly with the wings of your soul,
the other binds you with unseen chains, keeping you captive in the dungeon of worship,
for following him is a path of light, a journey of liberation,
where each step becomes a dance of self-discovery,
while worship blinds, bringing you to your knees before an idol,
forgetting that the divine lives within you, that you are part of the heavens,
imagine the path as a journey of an open heart,
where love is born from action, not from blind submission,
to follow means to grow, to become whole beyond fear,
to worship means to remain in the shadow of your own doubts,
so choose to walk the path of freedom, to embrace your being,
for Jesus said "follow me" to bring you into the light,
to show you how to love unconditionally, to truly live,
in a world where each soul is a rainbow in the divine ocean.
Composing harp melodies as a musical score,
Sounds that seem to have been frozen in time,
In reverse metamorphosis, crystals melt more,
Snoring in lattice husks, a willow moth sublime.
Sounds that seem to have been frozen in time,
In a dismal dungeon, dragonflies utterly scatter,
Snoring in lattice husks, a willow moth sublime,
Blood-storm charms fall in a tungsten disaster.
In a dismal dungeon, dragonflies utterly scatter,
If these models don't assist you to sleep tonight,
Blood-storm charms fall in a tungsten disaster,
Or educate the demons who entice your insight.
If these models don't assist you to sleep tonight,
Conceivably that our ambitions will deceive,
Or educate the demons who entice your insight,
Maybe you'll opine everything is crystal naive.
Conceivably that our ambitions will deceive,
Warm lime hues permeated the air with honesty,
Maybe you'll opine everything is crystal naive,
You'll notice how I've stated times of ambiguity.
Warm lime hues permeated the air with honesty,
with timeless topaz and a ticking sapphire burst,
You'll notice how I've stated times of ambiguity,
For the time being, I'd yearn to exhibit my worst.
With timeless topaz and a ticking sapphire burst,
In reverse metamorphosis, crystals melt more,
For the time being, I'd yearn to exhibit my worst,
Composing harp melodies as a musical score.
Written: January 14, 2023
Calm sits a valiant man inside of a dungeon
In Darkness sits a monk inside of a Monastery
And On this night they both share the same thoughts
how long God untill I am free from here
Footsteps resound down through the hall
They Listen as the sound goes back and forth
The Valiant man awaits his execution
The monk has been put in charge of reading his last rights
Now we hear the murmur as the crowd gathers
They are laughing and joking with one another
The Valiant man smiles because he too finds his death enjoyable
It's relaxing I must agree with him
And why is the monk so scared of death
The Final bell is rung
And There dressed in black
under the black hood is the executioner
He runs his finger down the blade of his ax
He looks up here comes the Valiant man
And for the first time on the job
He is faced with fear
His composure faulters
His finger slips and droplets of blood
Fall from the fresh cut
Now there's a battle fuaght inside his mind
Because he knows
that this execution will torture him forever
Silence falls over the crowd
This proud look of this mighty warrior
Commands respect and they observe it
The Monk stumbles but he does not trip up when he speaks
My Son are you ready to make peace with your Maker
Thank you Father, but me and God have never been in opposition
The Monks says You"re what the prophets wrote about
When they wrote about Valiant men
Son forgive me I am curious
How many men did it take to capture you
He say's I don't know i killed them all
Father look around, I killed every man in the King's army
And I would of did it a long time ago
If i knew that they was going to reward me by sending me back to my Father
Let the peace of God be with you Monk
And with those words This worthy man falls to the ground
The Executioner can't bring himself to raise the ax
And this Valiant man taunts him in the face of death
Please do it! I never ask a coward for a favor
“Nobody likes a clown at midnight.” Stephen King
CLOWN AT THE ABYSS
Darkroom abscessed
with neon blush and black-blood —
sunken eyes look surprised
to find oneself in a dank dungeon.
Fecal stench, not humorous,
screams on each bold painted-on face.
“Are we dead?”
“When did I die?”
“I didn’t want to take along this honking nose! It never quits!”
“These humongous shoes, like flippers, so cold they grip!”
The clowns, their smiles and frowns,
continue to gripe in the big tent abyss.
The epic fail of their lives an applause
from the demons who have them in grip.
Like fools, they suppose, they can feel their way out.
They march in one straight line with clanging chains,
chortling, “Heigh Ho! Heigh Ho! It’s off to work I go!”*
You see, they can’t help being funny - never could.
So on they march clinging to claustrophobic walls.
Yet they, one by one, begin to notice no floor exists.
Squalid birds, their chains rattle and roll,
with cheap jokes that never cease.
“Take my wife…please.”
Rings through the air. The demons cackle and boo
their despair, occasionally deflating the roof of the tent
on their heads - it sticks to their gooey faces, causing
them to run out of hot air, go limp, confine their space
even more - no audience to exploit. When the roof rises
each one finds water caterwauled at their faces, then
strapped to a chair as sufferable makeup - acidophil -
leaks behind their eyes, into their pores, maliciously.
Clown at the abyss digs his nails into the soil, climbing
a mountain of ill will, always failing...falling, and then
the jokes hammer again...over and over, head over heels.
...head over heels,
with no end…
2/27/2020
Clown at the Abyss Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
*Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
down under here
down under dark
dark where the world ends
dark where stars begin
begin to glow
begin to know
know yourself
know your dreams
dreams that motivate
dreams that titillate
titillate the senses
titillate expectancy
expectancy of possibility
expectancy of future plans
plans to change
plans to be be someone
someone special
someone that rises
rises from below
rises over adversity
adversity that cripples
adversity dungeon dark
dark as down under
dark as midnight
midnight without stars
midnight silent as death
death that robs
death that steals joy
joy is like a star
joy of heaven's light
light that pierces darkness
light beaming brightly
brightly changing outlook
brightly burning
burning in the night
burning up the sadness
sadness of your leaving
sadness of my grieving
grieving in the darkness
grieving in the pit
pit of despair
pit so far down under
under that mound
under ground in blackness
blackness of my world
blackness without light
light not darkness
light that overcomes
overcomes
darkness
Copyright, August 15, 2015
Faye Lanham Gibson
Believe it or not, their ubiquitous webs
Are everywhere; they are the dictators
Who kidnap, maim, torture and kill teachers,
Poets, ordinary folks and babies in their cribs.
They rob and ransack innocent citizens,
Steal elections and after a lifetime in power,
Categorically refuse to leave the tower.
Very often, they do everything to muzzle the chickens.
Monsters are constantly in disguise,
They are well dressed, they wear uniforms,
They know how to blend and to socialize.
Monsters, at every turn, want to control the dorms,
Manipulate the data, fool the media,
Hire henchmen and spread false propaganda.
Monsters behave like manipulative magicians,
They suck the air out of the innocent bystanders,
Befriend desperate and impoverished musicians,
Surreptitiously inveigle the nosy neighbors
To exteriorize their feelings, and they spy and lie,
At every opportunity; and at every occasion,
They bury their preys alive in the dungeon.
Believe it or not, monsters are like rats,
Their appetite is insatiable; they crawl under the mats,
Bite babies, steal millions, and hide the money in overseas coffers;
They rape young boys and girls, and destroy the future of many.
The revolution was not done right ‘cause the kidnappers,
The pick pockets and their accomplices are still under the tree.
Those raccoons, those bedbugs don't go away easily.
They outlive the exterminators. These goons are really bright.
Be cautious, because they are out there day and night,
Operating at every meeting and at every party.
Believe it or not, all bad things must come to an end:
The lies, the crimes, and the arbitrary executions of the church band.
Copyright© February 2012, Hebert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry books:
Line of inquiry:
“Neither desire nor aversion
Meditation our immersion
Conditioned beliefs discarded
Hymns we hum are our own version”
In the live network of unassailable design,
layer on layer my latticed mind is stratified.
The spiritual strata of innate awareness aligns
with the sagacious patterns of perception.
In my introspective journey within
my soul confined within the meditation crypt,
suffuses me with the supreme essence of piety,
liberates me from the dungeon of corporeal abyss,
taking me away from the unsure domain of conviction
in search of the divine light.
Many existential attributes of sole distinction
gain access to the sanctum of the psychic recess,
transcend through the undefined time
the fading limits of desire and aversion,
while the fluid sense of conditioned beliefs
flows abandoned from the cauldron of mindfulness,
merges with the sea of absolute consciousness.
I then hum the immutable hymn
of my sanctified soul,
that echoes in the melodic strata
of the harmonic awareness.
The devout mantra intoned
in the temple of my heart
resonates with the sublime symphony
of the sacred spirit in the realm of divinity.