Long Dungeons Poems
Long Dungeons Poems. Below are the most popular long Dungeons by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dungeons poems by poem length and keyword.
Akin a tumbleweeds
aimlessly blowing in the wind
umlaut punctuation
courtesy of let herd Mother Nature
nsync with markie mark,
(or other faux nuke heads
on silent auction
ajudicating bidding chopping block)
or getting sparred
sum xtra mo' mints
before morphing into gamut
tuff height (against opposing
super cross currents)
bow willing head over heals
deftly thwarting encroaching
enfilade enhancing
invading army of deplorable
dust devilish debris
with full Stanley steamer ahead onslaught
opposing approaching phalanx
ta become a foo lush fighter
putting kibosh
across the infinitely open
and wide prairie land
(which wasteland fictitiously
epitomized and described by T.S. Elliot
with absolute zero relevancy here)
a barren vista ravages
metaphorical landscape
of one measly mortal malcontent male
bumping and scraping
along an accursed habiliment
just barely avoiding
and dodging diabolical demons
mercilessly unrelentingly ready
to seduce this somewhat sanguine Simian
who finds himself amidst pitfalls
of a tortured and twisted existence
racked with up pinions
(halving smartly put irons in the fire)
deployed incognito
tub hest describe demonic dungeons
damp, dark, demented domains -
a veritable no man's land
and one impossible to escape
from no matter how fast I flee
from the fearful, fiercesome
and phantasmagoric forms
figments of imagination
yet real and tangible as bone and flesh
haunt sacred house of slumber
and transmogrify me
into a loathsome madman
ranting and raving senseless
gibberish and gobbledygook
yet perceived as metaphysical
and philosophical
sane state farm mister soundcloud
syllabification stutterer
from one whoa man
World Wide Web wayfarer
(perchance yourself)
which virtual vagabond
venerates vowels...
Given that we’re soul eternal,
Ensouling form for a sojourn,
Bemused by objects external,
In dungeons of ego we burn.
Ensouling form for a sojourn,
Soul’s light is veiled by dark desire;
In dungeons of ego we burn,
Remaining thus, until we tire.
Soul’s light is veiled by dark desire.
We flounder about in despair,
Remaining thus, until we tire,
With love divine, choosing to pair.
We flounder about in despair,
Knowing not our true origin,
With love divine, choosing to pair;
Heart yet beats with bliss pulse virgin.
Knowing not our true origin,
Bemused by objects external,
Heart yet beats with bliss pulse virgin,
Given that we’re soul eternal.
12-May-2022
A RHYMING PANTOUM OF FIVE STANZAS Poetry Contest
Sponsor: L Milton Hankins
In my hand the ink drips, commotional emotions at large , patches has failed. Nails and swords, pierce the hearing ear, fussed drops of lethal dose, push me to the edge, for adrenaline chokes my conscience, lead tracks, perforation of daunted untrampled dark corners of my mind, diffuse me from this dungeons, let the near and afar witness and preserve my presence for days have surpassed other unrecorded,
I'm poetic ink, unleash and infiltrate the soul for the present to inherit the marks, was just an ink, they said, a Lil to their knowledge, it's a force to be reckoned with, if today imparts none, Tommorow might be in vain, shallow and void, the ink drips, feed the soul for the mind is unguided and clouded by rage, assert the uncertain, pull me closer for the desire is ravenous.
Hand me the cannon, mass distraction at need, I blow the missiles my presence is not for the immediate but the wild and beastly, human essence at awe, look and listen, read and understand, this ink echoes, wisdom and intellectual, breed the inbred,
my crime would not go unpunished, spilling the ink is my servitude, don't wanna account for my silence, for I'm delegated, to empty this ink before my return, dust to dust, ash to ashes, none must pass here before bowing and acknowledging the spillage
#Poetic_Ink
I've been dealing with the fluvid,
And boy, it's hit me hard
I was out and about last week,
When it caught me off my guard
My eyes had veined a fire red,
When it took me by surprise
All I could do, is to be its slave,
Until it's germ that's in me dies
Three days thus far, my skins, like- prune
I've been forced to hum the Fluvid's tune
Wasted time can't run a faster soon
For me to leave my dungeons' room
My muse had turned a whiter white
And so, my pen...began to write
Fluvid boy, you best beware
Your time will come, and this...I swear
A few more days, 'bout all I'll take
My hands and legs, will no more shake
My ink will dry, and I'll right me better
Just a few more days, till you (sign) this letter
So, hope see you never, Oh Fluvid boy
So sorry, if I sound...so coy
But if you show your flu'ish face 'round me again
You'd best beware- You s.o.b...
I've got a pen
“Those who depend on us, if cast away
Will return to haunt us another day”
~ quote by poet
When the love of our life abandons us,
we feel that the world has come to an end,
as our heart contracts and dark fears nonplus,
spark of joy in soul we fail to defend,
so in dark dungeons of despair we blend.
All seems lost but if we give God a chance,
His grace let’s us see that life’s but a dance,
where all that comes and goes is unreal
so thus accepting our changed circumstance,
innate love and light, we begin to feel.
Roles reversed, if we have the upper hand,
feeling we’re now from our partner estranged,
having gift of flirtation on demand,
would we maintain our loyalty unchanged
or walk away, leaving our love deranged?
It’s so easy to judge and to find fault
but if our soul we’re to truly exalt,
we must work on consciousness correction,
that from call of love we do not default,
beholding in each heart, God’s reflection.
White swan pair in majestic quietude
Gliding on lake waters in contentment
Engrossed in togetherness solitude
Are joyous in their native element
At end of days, musing on gift of life
The power of reason, once boon now bane
We dwell in dark dungeons, given to strife
Deludedly measuring loss and gain
Fleeting is life, yet we are blind to light
God essence; our divinity within
Counsel of conscience steers us to path right
Enslaved by desire, we indulge in sin
Take back, dear God, power of our free will
We will be still, as voids within You fill
12-November-2021
The black side of a life betrayal and choked dreams
Cries of pain that are locked into their souls
Evil twistfate deals aches and screams
Inside darkened dungeons filled with peril and woe
In the trap, feels like stuck in of eternity madness
Hands are not chained but mind is unclear
Hidden away from the world today within darkness crying
Nightmares of life's perils strike deep irons hotly burns
Blowing with the wind, flying a hurricane
Shamelessly all trying to live from day to day
Frozen ice frosting bites cold deeds creeps inside scars
Slowly from the scrapyard of life's twisted metal crushed
They cried many tear, tears of hope - wanted life to last
But life was not fair enough as the remains lay deeply covered
Unraveling out savagery of an animal cold cutting steel beast cursed
Piercing howls forgiving the past in order to be redeemed blessed
A co write written by Liam Mcdaid and
Anne-Lise Andresen :) - 20.01.2015 -
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Why do you think that we never look beyond time?
Even when we know that it waits for none.
It is but a fading smile of a child,
Bidding adieu to his mother for the last time,
It is the impatient wind that swiftly caresses you
When strangers brush past on a crowded street,
It is the vanishing, shy morning dew drop,
That will fool our heedless eyes and disappear into oblivion.
Do you think I need time to make me perfect again?
Hah! The shards of my bastion are still yielding
Instead of wearing down,
It is gathering, assembling, creating a soul for itself,
Carving the celebrations on the dining hall,
And shackling the sadness on the lowest dungeons,
Where time will invite the grapevine
To warp around my baroque walls
And choke the beauty out of my broken edifice.
What is there for time to mock about us?
I sit by the rainbow from my new fortress
And count its scars,
Each of a different hue with different rules,
And wonder why time never goes back,
Perhaps what is done needs to be done again?
Thus it is but a blessing that we cannot retrace,
To be whole again.
The rainbow while slowly disappearing
Reminds me how many times the sky has been scarred,
And then I knew why it is beautiful and blue.
Whilst shrouded in dark dungeons of deep despair,
in monk mode, soul choosing therein to be still,
plunges deeper into the void, as a dare,
feeling, not thinking, surrendering its will,
astonished to see light flicker through the air,
even as bliss magnetism begins to trill.
As wafting scents sublime suffuse feeble form,
pristine presence is swept away in love’s storm.
Slow seduction, concealing and revealing,
joy of union and pang of separation,
a joy ride through time, delight so appealing,
game divine of polarity rotation,
reviving resplendent rapture freewheeling,
is what but God with us in conversation?
Breathe in, oh hermit, each life breath in surprise,
in childlike wonderment, beholding bliss rise.
I live trapped in a basket of predators,
their skulls crammed with futile idleness.
They celebrate misery like a morbid feast,
with the suicidal arrogance of heirs to nothingness.
The flames of humanity have burned away
in the abyss of their barren souls.
They worship the anarchy of weapons,
I see nothing but fields of ruins.
Their battles are the masquerades of capital,
poverty spreads across the Earth like a plague,
and the closeness of deprivation becomes a nightmare.
I spit upon their rotten idols,
those false sanctities with profaned orifices.
I have piled up sins to taste the ecstasy of raw freedom.
Born from the wounded entrails of the Third World,
I refuse to bow before the putrefaction of consumerism.
Free from the origin, yet prisoner of a banana republic
delivered to the savage plunder of predatory empires.
I fight my demons in the trenches of the mind
to adorn my reality with fleeting mirages of this convulsive world.
They consign me to the dungeons of their alienation,
but I rise, insurgent against their servitude.