Long Fatal Poems
Long Fatal Poems. Below are the most popular long Fatal by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fatal poems by poem length and keyword.
Sinister intentions are met with solitude
A ghastly grin greets the grimy windows
And who knows where the words will begin
But we all know they'll end in some awful rhyme
So forced and juvenile we'll be shaking our heads
And clucking our teeth in frustration
At the pretentiousness of it all
And for every tower a writer builds
He feels he'll never fall from his bloated heights
Where he looks down
And sees those far more talented than he
Perhaps this fills him with anger
A seething heat that boils his blood
Or maybe he seeks opportunity in the words of the wise
And begins the ungraceful fall off his perch
Perhaps one is lost in some misguided arrogance
Even as they reject the notion of possessing skill
And there is a fleeting moment before hitting the ground
Where the writer should realize his place
He's nothing more than a mere mortal
And his fatal flaw is believing in his written word
And believing that such an unpracticed poet
Could stand next to the likes of Poe
For he is a walking fallacy
So conceited in his desire to write
That he often abandons the written word
Believing the words will come when they come
And until then his thoughts will languish
As he sucks the fruits of yesterday's labor
He's nothing more than a glorified failure
Who never amounted to anything more
Than a seething high school bleeding heart
With words that followed no form
With stanzas that rejected common sense
With cliche tacked on to cliche
With aspirations of grandeur
He's just the feeding fodder
For those who give him the mercy
Of observing his written word
And giving him a reluctant pat on the back
Even while preparing the guillotine
The truth is that he is a masochist
Sifting through painful verse time and again
Hoping that something will stick
Just hoping he'll find the words
When all too often they reject him
For deep down he is truly ambitious
But he has no dedication to the craft
His pen is a half a stroke away from retirement
I come to your bedside once more,
you've poured our photos and poetry on the floor
an act of apostasy, a grim admission, the room in dim depression,
laying on your side , cheeks heated and soaked in sorrow, your joy in remission,
Refusing to look at me, as if seeing this face would invite a fatal grief,
hating me yet loving me because I am the wound waking belief,
a living scar fueling faith in the survival of our love,
needing me to be your spiritual shove,
I lay along you, gripping your tender arm, still, you do not disarm,
the tip of my nose surfs the skin of your shoulder, I smell the tears of my harm,
trying to explain that love is never wrong, that in your heart is where I belong
you roll into my chest, a gorgeous heat of anger escapes your glare,the sting strong,
in a fevered whimper, throat bubbled, you ask, how can I dare love you in absentia,
how can you love a kiss that cuts, a breath that bruises, nails of nostalgia,
oh how love makes us suffer for the truth of our hearts,
I say, there is no absence within the Absolute, a fusion of soul parts,
The onomatopoeia of my heart is ready to be splayed into you,
I kiss bite the supple muscle of your neck, you release a searing sigh
the air spiced with the oil of a woman's want,
I need the salvation of your hot opening, I yearn to super charge your core,
my balls, plump and heavy fall over your thigh, breast spread softly,
your hands enveloping my back, heels hooking around calves
the root of my Being swells to true and thick form
red oak stretching into your moistened magenta earth,
tenderloins contracting, pushing, smacking,
a metamorphosis matures to cure our crisis,
I can see in your eyes a soul that flies
on a light beam without ending,
one touch more and death will be a thing of lies,
rebuild love with me and find warmth never wanning,
we become Angels with no age
lovers without rage or confusion,
a new universe of raw pleasure and instincts sage,
dreams witnessed in the sweat and steam of sacred revolution -
J.A.B.
When silence breaks with a siren's cry,
And ash clouds darken the morning sky,
Two nations rise with wrathful might,
Blind to peace, prepared to fight.
Where rivers flowed through fields so wide,
Now burn with rage on either side.
Flags once fluttered in monsoon air,
Now mark the graves of young laid bare.
The tanks roll in, the bombers fly,
The missiles arc across the sky.
Steel and fire tear the dawn apart,
Each strike a wound to the human heart.
And then the flash — a blinding white,
Day turns to dusk, and noon to night.
Mushroom clouds in dreadful bloom,
Cities fall in silent gloom.
No victors left, no songs to sing,
Only echoes of what war will bring:
Children charred, and mothers weep,
Fathers buried in endless sleep.
The air is poison, the soil is dead,
The living envy those who bled.
No border now, just common pain,
Shared by the ash and acid rain.
What was it for — this fatal pride,
That turned the world to suicide?
India, Pakistan — names now lost,
To power's game and mankind’s cost.
Oh leaders drunk on hate and fear,
Is this the glory you held dear?
Let this be written, carved in stone:
Peace is a seed, war reaps a tomb.
In early eighteen-forty-four,
In Cornwall’s heart; on Bodmin Moor,
Charlotte Dymond, a young farm maid,
Had her throat slit with a steel blade,
She crossed fast streams and deadly bogs,
Found her way through mists and fogs,
But couldn’t stop that fatal blow,
That stole her life and laid her low,
She walked to meet someone that day,
Just who that was ... no one would say,
Found days later beside a track,
Laid on a cart; her shroud a sack,
The surgeon, Thomas Good, was fetched,
Had in his mind, her white face etched,
Charlotte untouched by fox or crow,
Had she been moved ... he did not know,
No evidence was ever found,
But her young boyfriend had gone to ground,
Fingers so quick to point his way,
Matthew Weeks panicked; ran away,
The hapless cripple, was soon caught,
No other culprit was ever sought,
The judge was just a rubber-stamp,
Bodmin Gaol was dark and damp,
The scaffold built, the crowds arrived,
Matthew swore he had not lied,
The floor gave way, the rope drew tight,
Was justice done ... the verdict right?
October 30 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Romans 7-8
Key Verse – Romans 7:25 I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord. So then with the mind I myself serve the law of God; but with the flesh the law of sin.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY SERVICE-POWER
Lord God, You are my service Power by Your granted freedom
Thank You for loosing me from my bondage and sin-caused boredom
While nurturing my faith along Scriptural Christendom for Your kingdom---
Help me overcome temptations with Your wisdom.
Lord God, You are my service Power by Your endowed deliverance
Thank You for rescuing me from deadly concupiscence and its fatal appearance
While reviving my prayerfulness with Your life-ordaining assurance---
Help me fight carnality by spirituality’s endurance.
Lord God, You are my service Power by Your guided consent
Thank You for dwelling in me so in Your will I’ll always be present
While delighting my heart with Your goodness that’s never absent---
Help me triumph over failure which I grievously dissent.
Lord God, You are my service Power by Your Holy Spirit
Thank You for acquitting me from condemnation in hell’s fiery pit
While saving my soul, allowing me to pass against enmity’s exit---
Help me follow Your steps along Your leadership-wit.
Lord God, You are my service Power by Your imputed righteousness
Thank You for sanctifying me from transgressions’ worthlessness
While renewing my mind to meditate about Your graciousness---
Help me share Your Gospel marked by Your lovingkindness.
Lord God, You are my service Power by Your revealed glory
Thank You for directing me toward paths of liberty’s victory
While healing my iniquity-wounds brought by unbelief’s worry---
Help me trust Your Word against infirmity’s misery.
Lord God, You are my service Power by Your unfailing intercession
Thank You for enclosing me around Your prevailing compassion
While firing my devotion in seeking for heavenly vision---
Help me abide in Your counsel of steadfast Biblical persuasion.
October 30, 2023
The Omnipotent Hand knows what is best;
Man sees himself and nature at blind spot.
Now in a sine graph we are at the crest.
Yes, a turning point is what we have got!
The Hand constructed a clean house for us,
But we cook what we eat in the fireplace.
The scented air turns into greenhouse gas,
Increasing the temperature in the space.
The Hand let the rain fall and river flow,
But we give them artificial flavors:
Rain gets an acid, river a shadow.
Sickening soft drinks have various colors.
The Hand gave us the land to tread upon,
But we make the wheels to send us away.
And we bite the dust; diseases have won.
We choose to die and not to walk a day.
The Omnipotent Hand showed us the sign
To bend the trend and take full reversal,
Like searching for the grapes, the source of wine.
Unless we go back, all shall be fatal.
(c) 2012 by Sherwin
Balbuena
Magnet, mind, medicinal!
Silent sane to soar!
Anger, wax ephemeral!
Lion, time we roar!
Victim of the vicious?
That's all of us down here.
Belladonna, blunderbuss!
Dare to disappear!
Code of the volcanic core?
Heat. That's all there is.
Burn, O nuclear reactor!
Love, like lava kiss!
Dark fire, be my intellect!
Sizzle as you boil!
Golem, gold. Gone? Genuflect!
River, run to roil!
Organ music, play for keeps!
Dissonant and fine!
Inspiration! How it leaps!
Mandrake, please make wine!
Deadly nightshade, glassy bead!
Heart within all, bleed!
Nothingness, what people need!
Flicker as you feed!
Vampire, dawn is fatal!
So do not go outside!
Amniotic, prenatal!
Terror, must we hide?
Cauldron, contain witch's brew!
Strongest! That will do!
Hope, by God, will ye accrue?
Safe succor, we sue!
Blessings, flow! My angels, dance!
Demons, fly in ring!
Fate and Fortune, now's our chance!
Sylvan, sacred! Sing!
Swing, branches of druid's tree!
Machine, melody!
Fill my heartblood, fancy-free!
Prayer and prophecy!
Positive? O prison shiv!
We all love to live!
Agony, thy gift to give?
Mankind: new missive!
Heaven and Hell, thee I tell!
Gibbous moon, thy spell!
Kin and kingdom, knick or knell?
Wicker, nicker, well...
'Neath the restless waves of the unforgiving North Atlantic,
Rests the rusting hulk of the 'unsinkable' ship Titanic!
Alas, 'tis another example of the foolishness of feckless man,
Demonstrated in so many ways since the dawn of time began!
Her designers touted her as the safest ship afloat.
They proudly boasted that she was a grand and luxurious boat!
A respected and experienced man was Captain Smith her master,
But he made a fateful decision that resulted in her disaster!
Mr. Fleet espied the ghostly berg lurking in the murky gloom.
He sounded the alarm, but seconds later she met her doom.
Due to fatal errors by man, the berg her hull did stave.
Fifteen hundred precious souls now rest in that watery grave.
Tycoon and immigrant alike sailed on that maiden trip.
Class distinction was strictly observed aboard the fated ship.
When waters swirled upon her decks and grim disaster loomed,
Class mattered not when they realized that they were doomed!
When man in his petty pride doth too boisteriously exclaim,
That his follies are indestructible, he's doomed to certain shame.
'Twould be well to heed the Scriptures and its proclamation:
"Tempt Not Thy Creator" - and that needs no further explanation!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
100th Anniversary of the sinking of the "unsinkable" Titanic.
JULY 2023
Hazy, Rampant, Hammering
Foggy-headed, I must be lazy enough to put just the right effort in.
It drips down and stains the pore.
My disease is acidic, fatal,
And the way that your alkali sense draws me in ...
How I'd beg to neutralise once more.
But the ants won't push against my unmoving tyres.
And anywho, isn't this against your morals?
Vivid, Violent, restless still
I'm floating away, I'm just really not lazy enough to notice it.
I'm ruining your favourite dress,
Your uniform for every non-uniform event.
Please don't let me soak you.
Please disappoint me again. Or you could prove there's no shame,
Because either way, at the end of my every walk, I fear that I'll be the same as my love for you when it isn't to see your uncloudy eyes,
But I'm not being lazy enough.
And I'm trying so hard to not try hard,
But I don't think it was ever really enough.
she keeps me guessing
i tell her i hate surprises
she knows i am a terrible liar
my eyes are stop signs multiplied by obviousness
therefore, i have gotten so now that i just don't bother to ask
instead, i just accept and be thankful and merry
see, i could still be by myself in a world of darkness passing gas for conversation
she still continues to knock on the door of my life though
at times i feel i am not worthy
i mean, as beautiful as she is, man, she could have anybody she very well pleases
however, for some reason she ended up choosing me
i look for signs of regret, but all i see are smiles of love and admiration
i accept it all for i was once apart of a fatal statistic
oftentimes we question when we should be basking of the glory of the Blessing
i am wet and damp with gladness and gratitude
as a direct result, i change the whole direction of my personality's attitude
nowadays when i guess, i save the bows just as she asks me too
contentment treats me well
we say our prayers together at the end of each day....along with her....