Long Engulfed Poems

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


Truely Blessed

Aznas’ wings protect throughout the night
Beautiful as the lustrous morning light

Cascade down from heaven, glowing
Divine while engulfed in knowing

Endless truth and unconditional love 
Frightened while visited from above

Godly essence of the soul
Holy visions begin to take its toll

Innocent thoughts now take the lead
Joy starts as it’s planted a seed 

Kindred, surround as clear as day
Loneliness a rumour, never to play

Mother God to you and I 
Night as bright as the day light sky

Opera, the sound of the song
Nightingales sing, never a note wrong

Protection in life for our sacred blueprint  
Questions asked, answered in a subtle hint

Realm of records, held in a grand hall
Secrets that are given out freely to all

Touched by an aura, making me think twice
Unforgiving actions, knowing I must pay the price

Victorious today, as she is each and every time
White army surrounds me, the harmonic chime

Xanadu, such a rich and glorious place to see
Yuman families blessed also, but never meant to be
Zoetic as she creates life and peace to you and me.

(not for contest, just a first attempt at ABC....Not in the traditional format)
Form: ABC


Premium Member Drop Zone

At the verge of parched tears arrested in fear
                        Kim was enveloped by morbid sadness
Enshrined in her prison cell and stiletto in hand
			tension rose on the surface buried inside
A cutting edge waiting to act upon visceral gloom
                        called for incisive bloodletting action
		
One life one laceration away from cliffhanging lightening
			small visceral droplets engulfed a low rising soul
No morning dew on mournful contempt and self-castigation
			cast out into casket's nails of grave conclusion
Ready to push one final dagger into her heart she wished
			for terminal silence composure and freedom

She stumbled and was once more washed away
			into guilt failure anger and endless void
Thunder and fire bolts turned into hail storms
			‘Hallowed be thy name and forgive me’
Heavy crystals pelted her skin and frosted her soul
			moulded a foundering slip on treacherous slope

Kim fell on her self-imposed dagger in the thawing of time
                        and woke up in a raindrop and the bubble could burst

Who's Fault Is It

God speaks as conscience;
childlike innocence.
When we disobey,
soul’s blue skies turn grey.
The ever changing moods of a soul that longs to be free 
can be varied and vast like an ocean's fluctuate artistry 
So often we lose the hearing of the young 
replacing it with stubborn ears of old that refuse to believe 
Having stared at grey skies for a lifetime we no longer 
sheen the Faith of our forefathers ; 
We never turn the finger nor blame the culprit  
for the turning of events 
we turn a blind eye to our past actions 
the ones that have led us astray;  
God speaks as conscience but sometimes 
we interpret His voice any which way we please 
when soul's blue skies turn grey, 
whos fault is it anyway !

Betrayed by our hand,
life’s barren and bland,
until we awake;
dark desires forsake.
Engulfed in the carnage desires of flesh and wanton beat 
we lose sight of the glorious pregnant gardens of our youth 
Slighting beauty we abuse of the God given gift of choice  
we opt for a barren and bland life of repetitive fractal sins; 
Betrayed by our own hand we have no recourse 
until we awaken to the calling of an Arching blessing;  
Then we move into a colored world full of bright nuances,  
where everyone can see that we have finally understood 
the true meaning of being fully awakened by the Spirit. 
Amen !

Fear

FEAR

The horrors of the night
The deafening noise of the porch-climber
Awful beast creeps
What will I do?

Uncertainty filled my fate
Mystification of cosmos
Stupefaction of humans
What could that be?

Tiny creatures squirm
unknown sounds infrequently heard
Incessant foot steps approaching closely
What do I do?

Incertitude engulfed me
Could it be night Marauders?
Maybe it could be myth
Where will I go?

Help ! Help ! oh help
They shouted with terrifying voice
Fixing a gaze at an apparition
Could this be a ghost?

Wake ! Wake !  Just wake up!
So a fainted voice came from within
Behold , I had been traumatized
With fear of the unknown tomorrow
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member POWER OF THE IVORIES

POWER OF THE IVORIES
~~~~~~~~~~~
I wrote this poem as a remembrance of my mother. Even when macular degeneration and diabetes took her eyesight, she continued playing her beloved piano. I often sat adjacent to her, watching her arthritic fingers dance pirouettes across the 88 ‘blacks and whites,’ lost in creativity and the music. Her pain temporarily dissolved, and she was at peace in her musical heaven, soulfully content. 
 
She walks into the empty room
and sits down on the stool;
her heart engulfed with grief and gloom
from life that has been both kind and cruel.

She knows that she must persevere
though things seem dark and grey;
then wipes away a single tear
as she begins to play.

Familiar music soon takes flight,
her sorrows start to lift;
and so she plays into the night
and feels the music’s gift.

At last, she plays a soft reprise
and feels her gloom depart;
true solace found in ivory keys
That mended her broken heart!
Form: Quatrain


Premium Member The Ghost of Boggy Creek

Long ago when I was younger, yearn for knowledge I did hunger,
heard about a rumor going ‘round.
Twas a legend told for ages, passed along as time turned pages,
strange as any tale twas ever found.
Rumor said that near the quicksand, lived a ghost back in the swampland,
ghost of Boggy Creek always abound.

Curiosity engulfed me, through the bog I yearned to sightsee,
learning for myself the swamp’s mystique.
In the backwoods shadows shaping, Cypress trees with grey moss draping;
eerie was the scene at Boggy Creek.
Sights and sounds were so alarming, fear of finding something harming, 
making me to feel so very weak.

In the dark I wandered wading, light of day was slowly fading,
slowly fading was the summer breeze.
Wading through the swampy water, searching for the spectral squatter
squatting in the swamp amongst the trees.
In the shadows echoes screeching, piercing screams my ears were reaching,
eerie screams that brought me to my knees.

‘mongst the Cypress lurked a vision, eerie figure prompts decision,
my decision turn around and run.
Running faster, screeches blaring, right behind the image glaring,
thinking that my life was almost done.
Suddenly was in the clearing, left behind the ghoul was jeering,
jeering for more terrorizing fun.

In the clear, my sweat was dripping, from the chase as ghost was nipping,
nipping ever closer to my soul.
In the sky the moon was waning, my composure was regaining,
gaining back my strength from ghoulish troll.
Ne’er again will I go wading, in the bog, ghouls haunt invading,
tempting fate in baleful boggy bowl.

It’s been forty years since searching, boggy mash for demons lurching,
hoping just to get a ghostly peek.
No more do I have a yearning, to this bog won’t be returning,
wondering about this swamp’s mystique.
I will tell you that the legend, never ever should be questioned,
after showdown deep in Boggy Creek.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member San Francisco Serenade



S~ Scent of the shining, Pacific Ocean, eternally bless me!
A~ Arresting fog, may your droplets forever surround me.
N~ Nights of rainbowed streetlights, dance, engulfed by the sea!

F~ Friendships, ah,so transformative, we gave each other the space to be!
R~ Resurrecting the grand glow of our hopes and  oh so shining individuality.
A~ As full, white clouds, we brought glimmering hope to humanity.
N~ Nights, we honored the stars and earth, with wonder and humility.
C~ Concerned were we, starting projects to end hunger, compassionately!
I~  I was more than blessed to participate in these fulfilling days of glory.
S~ Scents of fresh, amazing anitsef,another aromatic, scented story.
C~ Compassion not competitive these loving memories do be.
O~ Or it seemed like not a city at all, but anthologically, some divine country!

                                  Poem 1 of 1

                                   6/13/2024
Form: Acrostic

The white man's culture

A threat of superiority
Leads to inferiority
Of a heart consumed
By a venomous poison
Of hate lead by jealousy
A darkness claim their soul
Convinced that an enemy 
Was those loved by the sun
With skin oh so golden

Threatened by a culture
To which they steal like vultures
Begging to be chosen
Colonising a moment 
Belonging to those with a darker skin colour 
All we wanted was equality 
All you wanted was authority 

Lands built on lies 
Where black met demise 
Under grey and cloudy skies
And buried secrets forced to hide 
Hidden under the cloak of defence used As your disguise
Blaming the victim of a crime you committed 
Just to satisfy the deep pits of your stomach 
A place where guilt resides
Melting in the acidity of your pride

Insecurities infect your eyes
Leaving you blind 
Of your little white lies
To claim that being white
Correlated to being the superior race 
To capitalise off of ignorant minds
Of an acceptance they yearned to find
Power a secret weapon
Abused by those who wield it

But the real truth is black lives 
Are kryptonite to their ego
How their only achievement was culture stolen
How our presence engulfed them
How their need for attention to grow their ego
To distract them from a body so hollow
To stop from the voices that echo
Inferiority wrapped in sorrow 
The smiles they keep a deceiving show
From a pain that refuses to go 

When revenge is fueled by a crime not commited
One must question ones motivation 
Ones intention with all this hatred
To a race that's only crime was being black
Punished With a lifetime of psychological torment 
The fear of existing
Targeted by the envy of those whose livelihood was based on colonisation
And culture is based on controlled violence to achieve black silence

Premium Member A Scary Story


While on a geological traverse 
in the ancient Aravalli hills of Rajasthan,   
I happened to stop by a palatial house, 
that glistened under the summer sun.  

I got curious to find the big building
in the midst of desolate countryside.
So, I knocked on the huge door to find out
who lived there, but nobody came outside.

I gently pushed the heavy door, 
it opened with a creepy sound creaking.
I ventured to silently enter to find myself
in a room, as dark as the moonless night falling

In the eerie stillness that engulfed me, 
before I could call out, “anybody in”, 
the heavy door behind me 
suddenly closed, sharply bangin’. 

With the skipped heart beats I pressed  
the panic button in the alarmed mind. 
With all the doors closed, the way out 
in the opaque darkness, I couldn’t find. 

As the fearsome feeling of being trapped 
flowed with the stream of cold sweat scary, 
I saw a faint figure appear from nowhere 
in the hazy hallway ominously misty. 

He entered the spine-chilling room, 
as if floating in the murky air all the way,
his somewhat deformed scarred face 
I saw before from me he turned it away.

As he came near I wailed petrified, 
“I entered, for no one around I could see,  
I’m sorry, I should go out, please help, 
open the door for me”. 

The icy eyes stared at me frozen, 
but not a single word he uttered. 
Toward the door he glided in a slow motion, 
his hands like a bird’s wings fluttered.

How then he opened so softly 
the huge door I didn’t know, 
I rushed outside in a heartbeat 
to freedom in the flood of the sunglow .

I got my lost breath back, 
looked back to say “thank you”, 
but the door was closed, 
the man was out of my view. 

On my query in the village, I was told 
about the man who took away my breath,
an accidental fire burnt the outhouse,    
the caretaker was scorched to death.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Deluge Drear

Cushions of mauve piled high 
above a lingering letterbox of light,
slow-shifting shades of darker hue
descend in deepening black upon the sea.
And all around is silent, still,
no birds, no wave-sounds, dried-up winter leaves
now cling as crisp and lifeless remnants
on the trees, mute in breathless air.
The purple backdrop drains to grey,
The fading light retreats and finally gives way.
A slight and almost-friendly breeze
ripples the water, rustles the trees.
A faint and muffled rumbling in the gloom,
a first few raindrops, innocently sparse,
blown in upon a quickening wind.
The clouds converge, their prelude done.
Across the bay is launched a sudden storm,
A tempest from the wild Atlantic borne.
The huddled shoreline dwellings disappear,
engulfed within a winter deluge drear.
© Peter Rees  Create an image from this poem.

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