Long Exhumes Poems
Long Exhumes Poems. Below are the most popular long Exhumes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Exhumes poems by poem length and keyword.
We’re alive and aglow, so all should be well
but perchance if we begin to feel withdrawn,
as feelings of melancholy in heart swell,
a shroud of depression, darkening the dawn,
making us gloomy, life then a living hell,
know wistful soul exhumes darkness with a yawn,
nonchalantly choosing to sing a love hymn,
thereby averting possible outcomes grim.
Innate vibrancy of soul, our mood and mode,
employs will for polarity rotation,
stagnating nowhere, for joy is it’s abode
and each vibration is but a play station,
so once love and light, within heart we encode,
moment to moment, we’re in meditation,
unaffected by the highs and lows of life,
empty like vast space and at all times bliss rife.
23-May-2023
__________
Eight Word Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Nevermind what the outside says to you just
listen to your heart
My words speak to the part that sees the truth
& has known it from the start
Let lies rest in the dirt where they lay the dead
to be covered by sands of time
My words are food for the starving soul so please
consume these healthy rhymes
Bury my thoughts within your mind & wait for
the day your soul exhumes
The hourglass is never empty despite the absence
of sand, at the end of day we run on fumes
Follow the tune of the one that beats his drum
while surrounded by holy bands
His fire is hotter than the sun at noon in the midst
of summer but he's cooler than ceiling fans
Ash - grey chemised
she shifts her shape
as silver flakes float coat
stripped naked places,
sheath curves and angled spaces
Angry glitter tingle stings
thick earth skin with prickly flames
and rumble rise regurgitates
shimmy - shake shudders
in magma's deep thrombosis.
Her feather boa plume
tightens hot cloud chokehold,
acrid smoke flung up in air
without a care, heat exhumes
her arrival, announced fiery flounce -
Hot air blast flicks ash everywhere
Grande dame, her vital force runs hot,
and bold, red and gold- full blooded flow,
feisty fight to escape fate,
inner pulses push a violent urge
to bleed and drape red lava's cape
across green fields, human habitations
Unplacated, rising up, proud impairment
anger virulent, out of hellbent
immolation via pyramidal vent.
She lifts her tiara, red ruby globs,
hurls evidence in defense - great blobs
of royal reign - no abdication!
Throaty roars rend intonation
into screeching supplications -
She knows full well, soon enough,
her phoenix fate infarction
Too late for earth's burst heart
High drama is a living, dying art
Impassioned pleas too late for some,
Earth's burnout buries victims in her wake
High on an island hill,
the boy lay crushed, and still
on temple altar, throat cut, bled out
Hurried offering, did not appease,
nor bring softening release
for angry, ancient mountain
Head caved in by falling blocks
of measured, square cut stone,
the priest grovelled on his knees
Gravel filled their mouths, no space for pleas
No one heard half- whispered final groans
And Earth, once she settled down,
murmured not another sound
Posted 17/08/2018.
My Weeping Willow
I come to the old park
at dawn,
when the sun is tender
and people are sparse.
I don’t want them close.
I fear they’ll sense
the shame and rage
seeping from my pores.
No witness.
No words.
Only pavement,
and jagged breath.
Somewhere between miles,
I start to see the trees—
standing
in stoic stillness.
And I remember.
How they stretched imperiously
toward the capricious sky—
beacons of fragile hope,
laced with swing set dreams.
Then that day…
He aimed for the trees—
he wanted to end my life there,
for my womb to be
where my unborn
son was buried.
But we were spared.
The earth held steady.
Now I run—six miles,
every day.
Blistered feet press
through flooded trails,
scorching summer heat,
and bitter winter wind
that exhumes
hibernating grief.
I run—
to feel the ache
in heart,
in muscle,
and bone.
And when I’m done,
I make my way
to the place
where branches bow.
I sit in the crook of its ancient roots,
leaning into its weathered trunk.
Sunlight cannot find me,
veiled by its age-old leaves.
My fingers brush the humble bark,
grooved with endless stories.
I follow the dented knots,
tracing the shape
of every season.
Its body is broad,
anchored deep in sacred strength.
As it rises, it unfolds—
skyward arms,
bending and twisting
in a graceful survival dance.
This tree is not like the others.
Where others reach away,
my Willow reaches back.
It weeps with me.
It speaks in wind and sway.
I close my eyes.
I breathe in:
damp soil,
a trace of green,
lilac on the breeze.
The scent carries
what the miles can’t mend.
In the gentle, shaded hush,
even angels take root
when the ground needs them.
Someday,
when my running ends,
I will be laid to rest
beneath my Weeping Willow—
Ashes to root.
Grief to ground.
Home.
Writing poetry can be therapeutic
It's fun
It's caring
It's inspirational
It's emotional
And when one writes from the heart
It spills effortlessly onto the page
Hoping to inspire and steal the hearts of poetry lovers
Because when poetry comes from the heart
It reaches the crescendo of its beauty
Sharing delicate rhymes with splendid
eloquence
Proving to all
That true beauty resides within the heart
The poet exhumes the deepest
of fantasies, love and adoration
Enticing the reader to taste the deliciousness of each word
It's a joy to write something that can put a smile in a poetry lover's heart
From my heart to your heart
Collaboration with Edward McCall
9-6-17
Taking a little time out... God bless soup friends and thank you all for your support and kindness, I am forever grateful! Smile :)
Gifted.
A round clay grey chalice
just outside the kitchen door
filled to the brim
with dark brown nurture,
frothy feather greens trimmed.
She eats the fresh smells
with all her secret senses...
Even her ears hear subtle
strong notes as she chews the cud
breaking down her defenses.
Handed some leaves in a bag-
not big enough to contain
her gratitude and pleasure...
buries her face in notions
of growing her own treasures.
Coriander, sweet basil, dill-
lungs balloon with pungent perfume
caught, breath held until
heart gasps, thankful-exhumes
breath of life with CO2, awake
to symbiosis give and take.
Thank You, from the abyss of my heart...
It is a Pleasure to return!
Aqua Marine: 09/12/2024
Acts 20:35
Acts 17:28
James1:17
Ephesians 5:1
Proverbs 12:25
1 Thessalonians 2: 8
Afterthought...
The sandwich...
Red, white, green...
Tomatoe bright red
Sweet basil next green strong
Mozzarella cheese.
Mama Mia!
Each night, while you lay breathing quietly,
I wander like a wraith through empty rooms
A phantom in both life and memory,
the ghost a long abandoned oath exhumes
I hover like a spirit over you
each night, while you lay breathing quietly,
so desperate to believe what isn't true,
I make the best of ambiguity
This specter in the mirror isn't me
These lines belong on someone elses face
Each night, while you lay breathing quietly,
it's loneliness that holds me in your place
My worth so long defined by your extremes;
extolled by love, or birched by perfidy,
I find it's just the first that haunts my dreams
each night, while you lay breathing quietly
Am I Afraid of Real Love?
Butterflies fluttering in your stomach
The continuous smile that never seems to fade
Or the pure joy that exhumes every aspect of your life and mind
That little extra “kick” in your step that keeps you flying high through the day
The sleepless nights of wanting to just look into their eyes
To feel their breath upon your neck as they hold you close to them like a parent holds their child safely in their arms
Their touch, their kiss, their hands in yours…
The boughs of timeless laughter and the midnight talks
The one person you can tell your troubles or past to without judgement
Mid-day texts of a funny quote or a simple “hello” that immediately brings a smile to your face
Walks in the park, holding hands without a care in the world
When you just look across the room and your eyes catch each other’s….and then you smile
Your little pet names and funny quotes that only you two are aware that exists
Sleepovers that turn into a couple of days then discussions of moving in together
The one person who utterly understands every aspect about you and your world
With one look, they know if your upset or when you are truly happy
Or having the calmness of knowing you both have respect and trust with one another
Discussions of future travels and where “We” are going to visit and explore
The one individual that you can never dream of living without
Time and space can never remove the love that you both have developed and nourished
It has become a living presence so strong that nothing could erase the mark it has created within each of your lives
They can read your mind without you saying nothing at all
Over time, they turn into your everything
The thoughts of anyone else in your current or future life, starts to slowly fade away
As this person is placed in your lifetime “Selfie” picture for the social universe to see
Am I afraid of real love?
No, I am afraid of never finding real love…..
Tammy Bowers Copyright © 2021
You say you love me, but your love's untrue
I do not feel it in the things you do
and when you say it, coupled with a "kiss"
the searing heat of passion's what I miss
You say you love me, but I am alone
Such loneliness to you might be unknown,
and even when you're near, you're far away.
I cannot reach your heart with what I say.
You say you love me, but your eyes tell lies
I see a look that does not idolize
The windows to your soul are curtained now
I cannot see inside; I don't know how.
You say you love me, but your arms deny
to comfort and caress me when I cry
At times when storms let lose torrents of pain,
a shelter in your love I cannot gain.
You say you love me, but it can't be real
A lukewarm sentiment is all you feel
For love's inferno licks with flames so hot
I tell you now, all this your love is not
I want a love that sweeps my heart away
that makes me crave your presence night and day
I want a love that loves the worst in me
A love that binds my soul though body's free
I want a love that melts in its embrace
that testifies its presence in a face
I want a love as fierce warrior's will
A love that quiets fear, makes madness still
I want a love that all my thoughts consumes
A love that dreams in buried heart exhumes
I want, I crave, I covet love that feeds
That satiates my soul, fulfills my needs
You promised me a love that lasts all time
A love like that you have, but it's not mine
I get the crumbs while others get the feast
For lack of such a love my heart's deceased.
Eileen Manassian
Trumpet the ethos of these wading warriors with the hollowed bones
of their panygeric prophets,resonating triumphant tones,
to forever honor,protect,& perpetuate the valor,virtue,& victory of this Holy Order,
the irridescent echo seeps from their Father's tombs,
for what extent shall I blaze myself and minions in the arrows path,
so to coddle an intangible hope made of a prayer's dope,
or in a mind where a prevailing vision roams,
nay, to avert that macbre nightmare of having my People's progeny becoming the pigmy
of a teething tyrant who condones the perversion of civilization's tomes,
a coalesced consciousness consummated by the last bastion
with a vigorous vigil on this Christmas Eve,
solemn and sacramental the emotion is which this of our hearts
the Almighty exhumes,
A dispatched soldier ploying as scout,remote, waiting ignorantly to be smote,
a far but not forgotten armored satellite being selfless,
his vanity enemy's threat consumes,
an unbridled but composed offensive of a triplicate terror delivered
by an indefatigable knight ,
an ultimatum presented simply but also strictly,
one at least his assault maroons,
J.A.B. - Part Four -