Long Electrocuted Poems

Long Electrocuted Poems. Below are the most popular long Electrocuted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Electrocuted poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member The Endgame

The endgame 

And the cemetery was
nowhere to be found
yet was so present
in the shallow depth
the graveyard of the mind

No tombstone unturned
fragmented torn and twisted 
sorrow flowing down 
encrypted alleyways 
and Thanatos’ call 

Searching to imprint
coffin’s nails on seams 
of muddy icy prison
hammered chiselled avenues
creeping through and in

Dead alive and collocated
hell firing place and time
scorching cementing
looming crossing overs
to where and when to how

No monument just
monumental nothing
void oppression
endless loop’s demise
thoughts emotions dragging

Torrential thunders
roping in electrocuted lightning
nooses from the tree of
living emptied darkness
flowing rapids standing still

The cemetery awaiting
ashes urns and vultures
presiding over Ganges Styx
Caron caring like a
lifeless Buddha saddened

Giving taking suffering
unthreading tapestry graffiti 
splashing on the canvass
sombre art in progress
oscillating back and forth

The reaper harvests harshly
the mindless soul and body
crumbling bones infested
carbons desiccation apathy
hedonistic pleasures dull extinct

Gravitation nudges wild
and gently roaring
culling sculls foreclosing scooping
offerings burthens memories
premature un-furbished epitaphs 

Silent roaring rampant syncopal 
admonished synergetic resolution
teasing fool and morbid jester
luring loosening resolve
apprehending lithographic scribes

And the cemetery blinding
obvious and for the taking 
present not yet for embrace
remains a silhouette on the horizon
and life for now is stronger

May 18th 2016


Contest entered:
And the cemetery was... Broken Wings


Premium Member Current War

A lightbulb conjures Edison 
but shines on another,   
relevant
in the war of currents, (1)
that another player sparked -  
vastly intelligent. 
It would be the world's fate
to have its current alternate, 
and, too, Tesla spared the elephant. (2)

(1) In the "War of the Currents" in the late 1880s and early 1890s, surrounding the introduction of competing electric power transmission systems, Thomas Edison promoted Direct Current (DC), and Nikola Tesla promoted Alternating Current (AC), which is now the standard for power grids around the world. 

(2) Per Wikipedia, "In popular culture, Topsy [the elephant] is often portrayed as being electrocuted in a public demonstration organized by Thomas Edison during the war of the currents to show the dangers of alternating current."  However, it goes on to reveal a more complex (but just as horrible) truth.
Form: Other

Premium Member Hopeless Romantic

Loneliness has made me a hopeless romantic,
I don't have the youth or charm to offer you,
I don't have the great health or wealth to share with you,
I only have me, a hopeless romantic, to make you smile at me.

When you first smiled at me,
your greetings ignited the sparkles of love in me,
I saw the mirage of the love oasis in your eyes,
I daydreamt of the fountain of affection in your smiles.

When you first touched my hands,
I almost got electrocuted by the loving sensation,
When I squeezed your hands with mine,
the sweats of love were born in the warmth of our affection.

When we were together for a few moments,
my loneliness hid itself in some distant corner,
Those few hours of conversation, fun and games,
will remain in my thoughts for days to come.

When you bid farewell with a gentle hug,
I thought I lost the biggest treasure in the world,
Even if you will be gone for a while,
Till we meet, I will be daydreaming about you day and night.
© Jay Narain  Create an image from this poem.

Standing In The Shadows

The Earth lies flat on its bare back and gazed at the universe with its empty guts with worms crawling from its side and the lava bubbling up inside.

It has been there for more than a year, seeking out a path but something is stuck into its guts and draining an unusual  substance inside. If you examine it from a far, you could tell from a distance that something was about to break and you have to find a pinhole to release it before the mountains start to shake.

The children are having a jolly good time rolling and frolicking on the ground not knowing were destiny is bound. Everything looks normal as can be and the birds are signing a global melody. They  are flying form  tree to tree picking feather from  the other birds back mating in the sun and dabbling in hot pleasures.

See  them soaring  way up in the sky,flopping their strong wings as the clouds' rolls by, they are sending a message back on earth that nature is mature and  the two headed shark is living on the ocean floor.It is that wooded feeling you get when the breeze is blowing the waves and you are almost out of breath, the sky is frozen and the mountains breaks its  silence and  I speak.

Why do you stand so far apart and leave me wandering in the dark, why do you empty the garbage in the streets, wrapping your fuzzy tail on the land and singing the  beggarman's song . I have been watching the sun coming up and going down squeezing the energy  out of the town and I have to lay low when there is now where else to go and all you see in front of you is the Earth with its brown crust  saluting you and the cars  rolling by with hopes welled up in their engine.

Something's has electrocuted a hole beneath the earth, turning over a mountain of dirt, the temperature is increasing and the earth is baking. If you walk barefooted on the ground your heels will get brunt in a simple turn.

You see that whole section over there it is marked with a kind of memories and if you go closer you will feel heat and destiny will change your heart beat. Something is standing in the shadows imaging' my movement over here. The Earth's surface is hot you have to start wearing frocks.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Ta-Ra-Ra Boom-De-Ay

Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay 
  It’s Happy Mother’s Day
Mom stays in bed all day
  while we all swing and sway

We serve her brunch in bed
  not much to munch, it’s Bad!
Then we break all the dishes
  and feed the cat goldfishes

We go outside and play
  in a big lightning storm
The baby’s electrocuted
  Ha-ha, can't cry now, he’s muted

Into the basement we sneaked
  to take an illegal peak
at crazy dad’s latest experiment
  Mom's wedding ring's now rubber cement 

Time to take Mom to dinner
  We picked a real winner
Too bad the place closed last year
  They served great pickles and beer

Well, that wraps up Mother’s Day…
   'Til a tornado blows our house away
Mom cries uncontrollably
   ~ Thanks for the memories
Form: Lyric


Premium Member Lantern

A lantern hangs 
from a branch
melting its light
into the immense dark.
It could be a scene
from shogunate Japan,
in a temple garden
late at night with cool air
drifting down 
from the mountains.
The monks asleep.
The sound of a frog
breaking the holy silence
with a sudden plop,
as if all was held there frozen
in a haiku, a chilled perfection
caught to resonate a sadness
within the soul in having
to let such a moment go.
A soft breeze moving a leaf
slowly across a pond
to intercept the reflection
of a rising moon.

But this lantern is here
in a neighbour's yard,
a focussed still in the centre
of a moonless night, suddenly
flashing bright blue
and smoking
from the seared wings
of an electrocuted moth,
crackling thus
in the startled filaments
of the mind.

To Swatis I bow

#To_Swatis_I_bow
Pass me an elephant tusk, 
there's a tribute to honour to the Swatis.
If I had a rumbling drum, 
I was gonna rumble it 
but then I'm African. 
In Eswatini my purpose pursuit, 
purest form of beauty emanates.

My eye twitches from the top
My ears listens with intent,
Something extraterrestrial is at shore
The fidgeting sound of my bones, intensifies.
Sense a tremor, creeping under my feet 
Need I stumble, before I to witness what's to embrace my immediate presence

Some de javu at the back of my head, whispers.
My hunch, in dispute, this is a Swati, 
nothing encountered prior

Bow my head, 
Less I be persecuted for not being oriented on how to handle this presence, a royalty crown.
They said beauty lies in the eyes of the holder,
here I am, electrocuted from sole to skull.
My belief in loggerheads with my mind.

Goosebumps chases another allover my body,
Scattered off reactions, 
should I scream out my lungs?
Should I recite her totem?
Should I greet in tongues?
I'm conflicted.

Conflicted by Eswatini exuberance
Draw my strength back, in Swatis I bow
From tone to texture 
From mind to heart
From love to respect 
From humility to compassion 
From beauty to peace
Heart to soul
In swatis I bow
#Poetic_Ink

Premium Member Charlotte

Charlotte was never really enamoured with her mother. 

 So, when the news that she had been bludgeoned 17 times with a baseball bat didn't really faze her.

Charlotte was never enamoured with her father.

So, when the news that he had fallen 20 stories from his high rise flat still in his wheelchair didn't really faze her.

Charlotte was never really enamoured with her brother.

So, when the news that he had been run over 23 times by his own car, didn’t really faze her.

Charlotte was never really enamoured with her sister.

So, when the news came through that she had been electrocuted in her bath, it didn’t really faze her.

Charlotte was really fazed when she found out her parents had left all their money to the local cat sanctuary.

Charlotte actually liked cats.

Charlotte was never really enamoured with the cat sanctuary owner.

So, the news that she had been tortured to death didn’t really faze her.

Charlotte definitely wasn't enamoured by the Judge, who jailed her for a hundred years, calling her the devil incarnate.

This fazed her profoundly.

Charlotte escaped from jail six months later.

The Judge was slightly stunned when the gavel hit his head.

Ninety-nine hits later, one for every year she would have served, Charlotte reminded the Judge, smashing his head to a pulp.

This didn’t really faze Charlotte.

Charlotte is still at large, and after an intensive police search state wide, is still on the run.

Charlotte will be back at some stage, I’m sure.

People seem enamoured by her.
© Paul Bell  Create an image from this poem.

My Treatment Plan

Electroconvulsive therapy,
     a last ditch avail
able effort optioned, aye bewail
as desperation if standard
     psychological measures peter

     out leave ving paul tree
(paltry) choice, and blackmail
ling Doctor Frankenstein
     out of the question, cuz
     accidental discover re:

     visa vis could yield (ahem) grave
     zero APR, hence bad
     (bon jovian) medicine
     sought as precautionary
     measure to countervail

undesirable repercussions
     hoop fully curtail
ling any unexpected derail
ment, thus every nitty gritty detail,
asper my treatment plan

made purposely intractable
courtesy Matthew Scott Harris,
     to flummox decrypting
     this daunting task, whose
     hair brained scheme didst entail

hatching with Sam I am
    (of Doctor Zeus fame)...Oh...My...G___
egg gads no fail-
safe recourse, should shell shock
     Electroconvulsive – formerly electric shock 

     therapy even slip an infinitesimal jot
     offsetting requisite
     exactly predicted results
     yes, even if precision errs
     by a mere clipped fingernail...

the sought after outcome
     (devised on the fly - by night
     Reddit writer above named author)
must absolutely dovetail
     with The Elements of Style

or very close
     facsimile thereof, anyway
strict requirements quality controlled
     with results tubby
     sent as email

to Strunk and White,
     who will flail
like some GMO gone awry
     (if patient accidentally electrocuted)
     finding them to become

     instantaneously petrified and frail
looking analogous to
     witnessing the Holy Grail
shattering into a bajillion pieces,
     whereby the heavens,

     would reign hail
scaring every last man,
     woman, and child to hightail
donned in heavy duty boots
     studded with many a hobnail

with duff feet, sans long arm of
     law and order on their heels,
     and if any scapegoats nabbed
     definitely consigned to jail
without chance of parole to prevail

no matter guilty might sail
to some tropical island awash
     with countless carbon copies
     of Euell Gibbons doppelganger,
and Swiss Alpine like mountains to scale.
Form: Bio

So I Had This Dream

So i had this dream,
I think it was a dream:

My lonely sole treading
the path of the air,
Through the rolling container.

My feet measuring the path
Of Washington,
dazed by her beauty,startled
by her regalia.

My eyes seduced by the 
Beauty  of her physiognomy.
The tiled road tensed with glory-
Even with her sister-Michigan.

My heart was elated like
an electrocuted toy who
hopped for joy while betrothed
to the striving electricity.

I closed my eyes for secs,
Open it a bit through the specs.
Thought it was a nightmare-
Maybe one of the lies the dreams spare.

But nay it was a raw truth,
A truth unmissed with alcohol-
Stance like the undauted rock,
Looking indifferently steady like a moor.

So at last i'm here,
Even America is now my peer.
What i'd longed for months,
Just entered through my door when hope was lost.

Now my joy's fulfilled,
Into the pitch now to be fulfilled.

Americans?

An Hero is here.
Washington, Lions_den is here. 
For some to tear while some to care.
      17:24:17:10:10
Form:

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