Long Elapsing Poems
Long Elapsing Poems. Below are the most popular long Elapsing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Elapsing poems by poem length and keyword.
The fields, barns, and farms,
the dirt roads that seem to go nowhere,
all these are familiar.
The map of this part of Ohio
is engraved like blood vessels
crisscrossing his brain.
He’s an interloper, but all the same
knows these roads and has no need
to find one way or another.
All this journeys details
fit like jigsaw fragments
into a subliminal atlas.
He drives a mindscape,
one copied from a known reality,
hands and eyes free
to keep him from the unexpected,
but there will be no unexpected.
This is a world without
traffic or people to move it along.
The grazing cows and horses
may be at the far end of their fields
or near the road fence, but
the mind accommodates
these minor moving chess pieces.
A pebbled parking lot,
a Farmers Market.
He has a magical shopping list
that has written itself
as the tires turned the miles over.
Now he crosses between
one elapsing mindscape to another,
a place where he must linger
as a stranger once more.
To sit with my family in my bedroom,
when something from the outside went boom.
We looked out the window, and to our dismay,
a fireball of smoke was headed our way.
The time was elapsing so fast; we were running
Into the bunker, where we'd be safe for a moment.
The bunker door closed in the nick of time;
we heard that the boom was a nuclear bomb of some kind.
We panicked at first, but we knew we were safe.
We'd been preparing for this moment every day.
The bunker was large; it had all types of riches.
The best part about it was the fully stocked kitchen.
It had all types of food that your heart could desire,
including the meals that everyone admired.
We settled down in the bunker, our hearts still pounding.
We heard on the radio that the satellites were grounding.
With all the commotion, it was beginning to be too late.
We were going to war with the other countries we hate.
A scary situation—I didn't know what to think.
This imperfect world was beginning to shrink.
A troubling thought suddenly ran through my head:
Could this be because of the oil, water, and lead?
No more thinking, because nothing seemed clever.
No one could assume—but never say never.
We settled on down; we'd been there for weeks.
We were hoping and praying that one day we'd be free.
Wishful thinking was all I could say,
but I knew one thing: where there's a will, there's a way.
No more excuses; it was too late to save the world.
I cried for hours for all the people on Earth.
We sat close together and looked at each other,
a loving communion of hugs to reassure one another.
wing my loss) if grim reaper
came for das scribe as skew
ward poem attempted to infer, now
circling back to your queue
ped ditty linkedin with aforementioned
poppycock poo poo
merely a hypothetical premise aye drew
if my unexpected demise took place
husbanding half a motley crue
(ideally such unexpected tragedy
ideally tubby quick and painless)
without war ning, via internal bombardier
in tandem with luft waffe.
Sorry for rather somber tone -
but this psychological state
of yo dough less bro
affected by his reading,
autobiography coup (now, no idea titled tract)
d’état of Abraham Lincoln -
the author drew
my rapt attention (american history
strong interest) – whereby
past, present n near fee var few
chore wrenched with both
prized progeny persevering
(as they should) a path to hew
of their own making,
which steps toward emancipation
(worthy proclamation) for gentile or Jew,
these kindred (chromosomal byproducts
from countless chanced
genetic dice throws)
perhaps n uncle or aunt a bit loo
knee, perchance dna housed new
bile queen of the nile,
where (August) Caesar
didst hotly pursue
anyway....yes, lives of
deux darling daughters
un wii ting lee triggered flashback,
when self worth equaled zero
tricked, replayed, and generated
mine horror silent film
to rewind at nadir total fall out,
when anorexia nervosa did stew
underscore ring (four decades plus…) true
value of this moment colliding
with elapsing squandered
youth in rear view
mirror, unseen only
by ma doppelganger,
I now close with whew!
Behold, the once pristine shell now shattered into dust
The crushing chains once binding; lay still and turn to rust
Time elapsing slowly will dissipate the bruise
But scars retain a knowledge there's nothing left to lose
Broken words and broken hearted; emptiness so whole
Igniting angers' fiery fingers deep within my soul
Abandonment of conscience as sanity deserts
No longer being hostage in a place that only hurts
"Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful”
Icy shards of bitterness; feelings allowable
I have the strength to move on, to live another day
Peace of mind and character; so no I will not stay
Serenity awaits me, a peaceful state of mind
Filling life with laughter, joy; for which it was designed
I move from darkened shadows, searching for the light
Regaining independence to make my life feel right
Everything seems
So strange to me
This isn’t where I belong
I’m a stranger
On borrowed land
An outsider
In a silence that’s awkward
Heavy and bizarre
Unholy and surreal
An outcast
With empty birdfeeders
Swaying in the breeze
And flies circling
As if upon a cadaver
Time warped elapsing
In an ungodly fashion
I’m a foreigner
Unable to get away
Hardly far enough
My head swirling
From the stagnant air
I dream of closing my eyes
Letting images jumble my thoughts
Just as come over me
A medley of bloom perfumes
And a hummingbird fluttering
The size of a butterfly
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
A fiery crash upon the screen
Scenes of disarray
The confusion of the shocking sight
And faces of dismay
All around the world stood still
And slowly held its breath
Praying for the rescue mission
To minimise the death
The black cloud appeared silently
Consuming all the sky
And filled the hearts and minds of those
Reverberating nearby
The horror and the desperation
For those waiting to descend
The time elapsing swiftly
Towards the bitter end
The tragic sight of North implode
A fate so unexpected
The desolation felt by all
When South disconnected
Cries of disbelief ring out
The screams can only drown
As the damning news reports
North and South are down
Neon cased, luminaire, a work order about crystal chandelier
Neon cased, luminaire, a work order about crystal chandelier
Neon cased, luminaire, a work order about crystal chandelier
(Verily, this is rueful) you are only mine
farther shimmering, the glow is only mine
Within a halted time, elapsing the glitch
the memory and the earnest beseeching reach
Album cover landscape and hushed up Himalayan lullaby
Why the mindful departed with the left wing, and Ay!
Never land in Netherlands without the Norwegian home bound try!
Transparent a high in the foggy high beam , so high, up the sky!
Mystic moon river, thou shall never be a croon, a moonlit sun, o my!
In exile, revitalizing river , trained and maintained, lasting in eradicating a cosmos
cosmos and the cosmic, interstellar, a sensible old fashioned Oshkosh, perhaps a Ross!
Never to covet, never, never, never!
Ruminating Eldorado, gone with Shepherd, orchard a say!
A moonlit sonata and a streak of moonlight may ! Brazen Fenugreek and the Greek Gothic day!
Perhaps a light at the end of the tunnel , (forecasting atlas , dream reader's digest a!)
Grass root, barefoot, an odd and an audacity
Up the sky, an indecisive cry, limitless, unwholesome,inactivity!
Intertwined a mayhem alone, with the alone, an ayah for an usher color, glum and glee!
Cosmos and the cosmic, interstellar, a sensible old fashioned Oshkosh, perhaps a Ross!
Never to covet, never, never, never!
Ruminating Eldorado, gone with shepherd, orchard a say
A moonlit sonata and a streak of moonlight may !
In exile, revitalizing river , trained and maintained, lasting in eradicating a cosmos
Cosmos and the cosmic, interstellar, a sensible old fashioned Oshkosh, perhaps a ross!
Never to covet, never, never, never!
Copyright Tamanna Ferdous | Year Posted 2023
(Influenced by a song of Tahsan Rahman Khan)
I wonder what he was thinking, the man
mounted on a stool, with his elbows resting on the bar,
eating a Big Mac and sipping coffee from a McCafe coffee cup.
The outside view he was watching through the glass wall
is the flickering lights over the parking lot and
the sounds of galloping horses on the road.
As usual, among those galloping horses,
some may be carrying today, which is heavier than the day,
on his aching back, while others run with full speed
looking forward to a better tomorrow;
yet, there is a horse, like one of the remnants of a defeated army
who fought the difficult battle where there is no today, no tomorrow,
but struggle after struggle of dogfight and defeat, dragging his feet
with a heavy burden.
Since there is no color or outline of an object in the dark
you are unable to distinguish one horse from the other,
such as the high-spirited grand Shire, the tiny amiable Falabella,
the gracefully elegant Akhal-Teke, or the Mule, born to carry heavy
load till dies.
That’s why the darkness is beautiful,
it doesn’t have a color like the death; yet,
it’s not comparable to the darkness of the grave
because it’s only the flip side of the day. It will drag
you into the light, compel you to see the sun in the morning.
As coffee gets colder, the smell of coffee goes away,
and further, the taste of coffee becomes bitter with elapsing time.
Then, from the empty feeling of missing something, he bites into
the hamburger held in his hand and hears the “moo…” the last cry
of a sorrowful cow dragged into a slaughter house.
Though death is, beautiful if it’s accompanied by a dirge,
the moment of death by force is, although the soul may be
lighter than a feather, a lot heavier than the weight of the world.
The elapsing of the year gets almost everyone busy,
listing things to do and not to;
What to leave out or cross over with
Recreating the disfigured concepts of one's entity,
Refilling the unfilled rows and columns of a mystery,
It is like a bridge paradoxically unseen in the natural,
A bridge which, others cross over unconsciously, Like people in the North Sentinel Island, the Pintupi Aboriginals;
They're undisturbed with technical, social or economical changes.
The beginning of a year, is like taking a long-light trip
through a hall with appeasing leeways
Getting lost and refound in the process
Through this travel each one has precepts to follow
The exit way is either an achievement or a lesson
Each day is a cross over,
Each night is a ride which takes everyone to past,
present or future events
Each morning is a recreation
To reconstruct the fragmentary initiative.
A happy and reproductive 2018 to the poetry members.
:)
the arc of this air rising like smoke
amidst the nival flora of hills
trails against gun-powder skies
with barrels drawn my mind pivots
in the anguish of yesteryear's pain
i cower like this sun beneath clouds
unwilling to lift the veil of eyes
and see the crimson splatter awaken
in the momentary flashes elapsing
through triggered little thoughts
that hold you in the corners of my mind
somewhat confined by my pacific soul
but still able to break free of these chains
sometimes i see you there
pointing more than fingers
and i choke on the weight of hands
pressing against my throat
as i try to swallow down these tears
sometimes i hear your uttered rage
in the shots of darkness that echo
along the halls of lonely walls
where bullets once shattered my heart
i still see the fear in my eyes as reflections stare back
in momentary lapses of this wretched love
that left me live yet die in its hands
January 13, 2020
(aching)