Long Firework Poems
Long Firework Poems. Below are the most popular long Firework by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Firework poems by poem length and keyword.
The Lie
I am an insect waiting to be squashed!
I stare hard at the ground
as if fascinated, enthralled by it
while, above, eyes of cold-cobalt
wait to gouge and burrow out
any self-belief that might still remain.
“WELL?”
It always starts with that unsettling word.
Ironic as ‘well’ it certainly is not.
“COME ON!! I haven’t got all day!”
The next sharpened remark; his checkmate,
and the denouement usual swiftly follows.
I try to speak but my weighted words
require a wheelbarrow to carry them out.
I am snagged, on the jag, of repeated criticism
which over the years has shrunken me;
diluting my beleaguered confidence.
Most of my childhood years I understood
and welcomed the fluctuations of emotion
however the grammar and punctuation
of every day skirmishes of family life:
the questions marks, the exclamations, the..... ellipses
were rules, restrictions that became impossible to follow.
So here, once again, stands my father’s temper
attempting to confront nay dominate me.
At this point, if my body had consented,
I would have galloped over the nearest horizon
however all my moving parts had gathered together,
loitering, on a corner, spreading rumours and gossip
that had rendered me rigid and immobile!
My only escape, my bolt for freedom, lies… in the lie.
Yes, an untruth, that had lain in the top shelf
of my mind for many troubled days,
fermenting in its own insidious juices.
Now sliding treacherously from the corner of my mouth,
this worded assassin, homes ruthlessly on its target
…my firework of a father.
Suddenly his face tightens, a thought frightens,
his rigid body a jolt of electricity,
as disbelief snakes its way into his thinking.
His anger reddens, his reasoning darkens
and his fists…..boulder.
But the lie has lain down beside him
fabricating disappointment, bewilderment, distrust
deep into the windows of his eyes.. then...much deeper.
Gradually I turn the key in the ignition of my pride
carefully closing my hands, knitting my fingers,
creating a statement of both prayer and defiance.
Later a thought dangles in a corner of my mind,
a consideration, a contemplation of how far the lie
will layer down into my father’s subconscious
before he understands that the lie is a…
Trojan horse carrying … the truth!
Ian Souter
I see, in the colourful waves of the night sky
Love, as it slithers all over the universe,
Spreading its bolts of firework
All over, seeking solely to please the lot
Of Life as, in the very end,
Love remains that which is sought out
To keep on treading along thorny paths!
I see, in the sparkling dots scattered all over the night sky
Signals, aiming to reach the depth of my soul
Seeking to guide me on my fate line
As to what are the choices that I should turn to
And what are those that I should abstain from!
Pray, I see, in the void, in the silence,
Creativity in its splendour
Intelligence as shall never be known on Earth
A power, in the very end, a power
Being so subtle yet so glorious
That I, as a mere mortal, can only bow down to it
In selfless abandon!
I see, again, the anchorage where our souls
Are meant to reach,
After having desired Earth, merely to realise
That its many pleasures are false,
Imbibed with pain all the way through!
I see, a net, a matrix which carries beings
So marvelous that they remain invisible to our eyes
Beings though, who have as pastimes, the constant
Tampering with our lives, and
Requiring thus, from us, constant adoration!
Pray, Love, I see your greatness in the depths of the night sky
In human form, you do push my body beyond its limits
Awaking me in bursts of powerful lava explosions
But there, in the night sky, you calm me, you soothe me
You bring me relief, as if, there, in the dark silence,
I could hear you as is emanated from your voice,
Deep musical vociferations about our eternal love story!
I see, yes, I see, all about that in the night sky
I see reason for life to be, I see meaning of life,
I see cause, I see purpose, I see power, art,
Creation process, intelligence, songs and dances,
I see, you Love, as you tangle my hair in your hand,
Carrying me along with you, on your explorations,
Never wanting to let me go or to let any other power
Touch the edges of my skin!
I see the urges of forgiveness, I see tender kisses
And gentle caresses, I see understanding and patience
I see, for you, submission and abandon!
I see, yes, I see all of this
And it keeps me breathless, panting,
Pulse racing, heart booming, hairs on end, gulping,
Expectant, and in love!
Written on 18th Feb 2019
Raisin just stared at the chaos ahead
A kitten, confused as she sat there in dread
The world has gone mad, all the people have flipped
She glared at a window where blood and gore dripped
Folk wearing specs that have eyeballs on springs
Rubber bats hanging on elastic strings
Teeth that are pointed that vampires call fangs
A sycamore tree where a skeleton hangs
Raisin leapt back as a gremlin passed by
His mother ignoring the stake in her eye
Even our kitten was quite unconvinced
When someone approached with a brain that was minced
Green painted people with bolts through their necks
“Give us a treat or you’ll suffer a hex.”
Bedsheets with lights in and black holes for eyes
Sound effects belting out groans, sighs and cries
Raisin considered how humans survived
When all of this subterfuge is so contrived
Only a dog who might fall for it all
Might sit there and wait for his master to call
Pumpkins on doorsteps with faces carved in
A Skeleton’s arm hanging out of a bin
One man is walking though he should be dead
Because of the arrow stuck right through his head
Raisin rushed in through the cat flap and panted
“The humans have all gone bananas,” she ranted.
“The dominant species on Earth - it is said
Is out there pretending that they are all dead.”
Rum said, “Don’t panic, there’s nothing to fear,
Today is precisely two months till new year.
If Ronald Rat hadn’t said what that might mean
I wouldn’t have known that tonight’s Halloween.”
Raisin eyed Rum with suspicion and said,
“This three months of craziness fills me with dread,
For any time now, once again they will try
To send cardboard rockets up into the sky.
They’ll get tiny bombs and they’ll set them alight
And watch them explode in the chill of the night
It all says to me that they’re all round-the-bend.”
Then Rum said, “That’s not where the ‘crazy’ will end,
“For soon they’ll be wearing white beards and red suits
And walking on rooftops in black welly boots
But they won’t use ladders as you might suppose
But chimneys and reindeer and one big red nose.”
The door opened wide and their human stood there
Holding a fake severed head by its hair
And Rum rolled his eyes as he said with a laugh,
“Which is why dogs have owners, but we cats have staff.”
At the cradle of my nightmares,
My future is a horror film,
I track my ghosts,
Like a junkie in withdrawal.
I am a true clandestine calamity,
A mass grave of silent suffering,
A candelabra of pain soothed by dirty money,
I hate the human race,
And I will never have a pet.
I am a loner addicted to silence.
I only write in the dark, to deathly sounds.
A mix of gloomy feelings,
I walk in the darkness of my imperfections,
My hands are no longer innocent,
Since I’ve handled weapons of war.
I am a child of the slums of the third world,
I know perfectly the orifices of misery.
Another damn sleepless night spent monologuing in the darkness of this cold room,
The devil covers his ears to the atrocities spilling from my confessions.
I’ve already used gunpowder
For a firework on the edge of legality.
I never agreed to sleep on an empty stomach,
I’ve risked my freedom since I was ten.
I’ve learned to walk among hungry beasts.
I’m already at war with my demons,
I know I’ll end up in the flames.
I know I have no right to trust a human being,
Being a slave to shine is impossible.
My enemies squat in my imperfect flesh.
I don’t smoke crack,
I don’t smoke cannabis,
I don’t snort cocaine,
I don’t drink alcohol,
I sometimes burn a few cigarettes.
I avoid psychotropics,
I’m not a poet,
Just a tormented mind,
Prisoner of infernal loops,
Where murder scenes repeat endlessly.
My tears stopped flowing down my cheeks
Since I saw my friend crushed by a logging truck.
I am an angry man with murderous impulses,
I commit suicide each time in this same nightmare that has repeated since my childhood.
I’m approaching fifty,
I’ve stopped meditating on the whims of the reaper,
I’ve stopped wandering in graveyards.
Let the universal force show mercy on my impure, tainted soul
By the poisons of lust,
I accumulate transgressions to have a throne in the furnaces of hell.
I don’t believe in paradise, but I know I’ll burn in the abyss’s celestial flames after my twilight.
A deep philosophical reflection in the ramblings of my delirium.
I hate the spotlights like those criminals on the run,
Too many regrets hidden in the closets,
A clean criminal record like the entrails of Christ’s mother.
I blaspheme to darken my divine fragment.
Kiss
One word to describe an endless lifetime
Kiss
The sweetest thing, the sweetest taste and the worst thing to be taken away
Kiss
One solid moment, a product of slow motion; fireworks cascade, decorate the sky
Kiss
Never could a small moment make someone feel more alive
And tear someone completely down when deprived
Kiss
As passionate as a wedding ring intertwined with a lonely rose petal
Smelling of honey, of delight, delightful excitement
Kiss
As frightening as a thunderous, destructive, lightning storm causing immense panic
Kiss
Could make a man do perpetual back flips and handstands
Could make a man addicted to love and other drugs
Could make a man keep coming back for more
Kiss
Could make a man become questionable, filled with doubt and puzzlement
Could make a man fearful for the next time around
Kiss
Could make a woman sing harmoniously for a thousand days, in a thousand ways
Could make a woman melt in place from the brief intensity
Could make a woman smile endlessly, dreaming happily
Kiss
Could make a woman feel regret unlike any other
Could make a woman burst into tear, feel indecisive
Kiss
The perfect weapon of ultimate happiness, the perfect weapon of destructive breakdown
Kiss
A hopeful wish on a cluster of stars
To cement the idea an angel would be able to kiss goodnight to a hopeful someone
Kiss
A daylight dream amongst a boring scene, attempting to capture a realistic moment
Like catching fireflies in a jar in the eyes of this maid
Waiting to be a proud queen to a king
Kiss
The one panacea known to evaporate the lurking sadness of a day laying siege like pirates
Kiss
The remedy for dying by a thousand cuts
Yet still finding the strength to defy the demon and stand up once more
Kiss
Kiss…kiss…kiss…kiss…
Another moment to chalk up a point for happiness
The perfect weapon of destructive breakdown
A firework spectacle; the sweetest feeling, the sweetest taste
Worth dying by a thousand cuts, the remedy to bring the dead inside alive and well again
As passionate as a wedding ring intertwined with a lonely rose petal
Smelling of honey, of delight, delightful excitement
A hopeful wish on a cluster of stars to cement the idea an angel would be able
To kiss goodnight to a hopeful someone
Hold on just one minute more before you walk through the door; hold on just one minute more and think carefully about it before you do it. You must resist all temptation and the ego of the heart that is pushing you to break the bond and leave the people destitute on the land. It is fears that take you to this place and have you screaming at the gate, it is fear that opens the cockpit when the pilot fell sick.
See them standing in long lines waiting on the divine. Their clothes are torn and dusty and their dry cracked lips yearned for a kiss.
Their dragged face stares at the distance in front ,looking at paradise curled up at the foot of the mountain.Their body yearns for comfort as they walk slowly in groups trying to touch something’s that they have lost. Their spirit bonds together as they journey towards nothing but someone says it is a new beginning.
Life has changed quickly, and you cannot tell from whence it begins, yesterday they were living in a Manson and today they are wanders in the street.
My heart is moved with compassion when I see people fall down and die in the street the journey was too long for them and many of them had nothing to eat so dehydration sign the final decree.
I have been waiting in this place to make a final move but each time the date is set, you make up a hard luck story and push me back in the bush. You are testing my patience in the most devious ways.
The trees are standing still listening to your mountain of promises that bears no weight and have no meaning. There is just no way out of here until the entre air is clear, everybody must go back to where they belongs and you must take a drastic stand.
Patience is your patience, patience is mine; you have got to get to the airport on time, the place is crowded and village people are there, you have got to give them hope for the test of the year.
Is there a better life over there? the bears are roaming the woods and the deer’s are moving too, they are going south west in their Sunday best looking for a place to rest but destiny has no comfort over there.
Walk on the straight line until you reach the bend patience will take you to the curve and turn everything around. Walk on the parallel line and you will be mine.
As long term aspiring
gurgling (stream of consciousness)
paperback writer, there doth appear
an imponderable quandary
most likely experienced
by fellow neophyte authors,
one pesky bugbear
that just dawned, (within the mind
of this former tony
MainLiner) crystal clear,
i would bet mine
bottom dollar and declare
unequivocally established writers
mentally tussled (or still do),
how to accrue “Art of the book writing deal”
contract subsequently endear
an increasing number of people,
that definitely feel drawn
to thy unique flavonoid flair
with words this scrivener displays,
where oft times decrypting
(mine block chain) dost jam
at least one cerebral cog and gear
no matter how far away from me,
this mind can telepathically hear,
colorful epithets, thus
seriously considering donning,
summoning, and trumpeting
his swiftly tailored,
harried styled interlinear
difficult to interpret ma Bella cos
mean mien, thus ready
(lock, stock and barrel)
to ship me on a one way junketeer
attired in a combination
all force he zen,
(and Caesar) knitwear
and (thrift special red tag sale) leisurewear
oh...preferably gender neutral,
or specifically frilly pink menswear
which could be either
day or nightwear
yet absolutely non gaudily
outlandish most unlike
thine convoluted other worldly
unfairly punishing stentorian
verb hose noun sense sic cull
idiomatic ling goo whist tricks
driven by a harsh grammatical taskmaster,
(nonetheless one
gentle non-slavish overseer)
summoning positive
feedback to reap peer
burgeoning my popularity,
yet without being *****
yule us, yes...of course retaining rear
penchant inventively steer
ring an unsuspecting reeder
agonizingly testing their
pay shunts, perhaps inducing her/him
to race out the door like a a mad person
clad with (impeach 45) underwear
calling for men/women in white coats
to lock up Matthew Scott Harris
possibly commuting his
long runonsentence tea
ching fellow inmates without ten year!
You keep me at arm’s length
Afraid to draw me closer
Afraid to let me go
You want me close enough to see
But not close enough to hold
Close enough to warm you
But not close enough to burn
You want some of the glow
Enough to bask in a tender light
You want to know I’m near
Near enough to touch!
And so I stay at arm’s length
For I’m so loathe to leave
I don’t want to lose sight of you
Or I might start to bleed
Tempted to be a base stealer
I move when you’re not aware
Sometimes I come much closer
Other times I slink farther away
Then I judge your expression
To see if you’ve noticed the change
Is that worry or a smile
That I see reflected in your eyes?
But here comes a warning
Straight from my heart of hearts:
At some point I’ll get tired
Of this little charade
Of standing still like a lifeless statuette
I’m not one who can survive
Without being touched
So, though this is your comfort zone
It definitely doesn’t describe me
I’m a hands on kind of gal
Steeped in dreams of ecstasy
I love to experience
Emotions that are raw
No cover ups and pretenses for me
I see past that all
I love to set off
A firework display of love
The kaleidoscope of bursting colors
That no one can tire of
I know what I’m worth
I’m aware of my powers to please
Possession’s the game I play
And I always play to win!
Lukewarm doesn’t cut it
You’re either hot or cold
So, for now I’m docile and submissive
Playing your little game
But you better know who I am…
And know my other name:
“Woman of the Intense”
So, sweety, keep me at arm’s length
Occasionally look my away
But let me tell you this…
One day when you look back to see
That standing passion pillar of fire
You’ll see the scorch marks on the ground
Of where I used to stand
Burning to be
Closer to you
Than your arm’s length demands.
Wherever I'll be...
At that exact moment of truth
While blazing away in someone else’s arms
Keeping someone else warm
Know this:
I’ll smile a knowing yet sad smile
For I’ll see you in my mind’s eye
Reaching with both your arms outstretched
To pull in emptiness to your chest
Instead of that sweet desirable girl
Who could have set your world on fire…
That girl…
That you steadfastly, stubbornly kept
At arm’s length.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
inexplicable to me why your being:
beguiles, fascinates, intrigues, lures,
orchestrates, radiates tantalizes this
CVS patron, who dares himself to
let spill forth (like sought after shim
mer ing liquid (perhaps the elixir for
eternal life), aware that thee might
partake draughts from this supposed
glowing, mirroring, pulsating, exqui
site lee teasing unquestionably an at
traction, and tis on account of such
captivating, fascinating, mesmerizing,
youthfulness finds myself helplessly
drawn to thee, who asks for nothing
asper his attempt to codify, glorify,
lustily communicate this intoxicating
kickstarting, manifesting, organizing
cascade of appeal, ye most likely did
not necessarily intend directed at this
regular run of the mill bipedal primate
who knew not himself the inexplicable
stupendous effect, and if nothing else
feels compelled, goaded, linkedin with
your self, which could be sustained at
the platonic level, or which appeal to
a nymph like spirit could perchance
evolve into a dynamic, kinetic, titanic
(maiden in america) gluten and msg free
(oh...of course NONGMO) friendship
proceeding in one direction with no par-
tickle har rush, but allow, enable, and
promote a sustained endeavor imp poe
zing no uncomfortable urgency. even
procuring a sweet hello or adieu on each
occasion that finds my stock of pharma
sue tickle medications in need of ma
mad dog ripple ace ment. aye could
(if thee would permit meet for lunch
(on premise and promiss not to steel
a kiss), boot rather to exalt in an unde
finable blinding aura, charisma, karma
inducing this con tempullet heave, intro
spective, quiet natured house broken,
dog gone, muttering smartpet avoiding
(without waste ting) your precious energy,
nor diverts and value able sands of time...
matthew scott harris sets pro active non
threatening overture as his exposure
therapy (cuz he latched onto risk
averse) be have your decades in
the past that still “smart” his psyche,
thus no intent to cause aversion, ire,
uneasiness nor rile explains this
unexpected hoop fully pleasant
surprise communique.
Making up dance routines to the top twenty,
every Sunday evening with laughs a plenty
dragging mum up to dance,with her all a fluster
trying to show her our steps to songs like "Blockbuster"
and us all singing "I cant let Maggie go"forgetting most of the
words,
volume high on the radio
pulling faces,silly voices laughing and joking
and do you remember Players no 10 that mum was always
smoking?
the fighting ceased between us all,just for a little while
our groovy clothes that we once wore,now thats what I call style!
cream soda,sweets on a Friday night,watching tales of the unexpected,giving us
all a fright
breakaway biscuits,beans on toast,chicken and rice,mums Sunday roasts!
skating down Tudor ave from the very top,jacks cartwheels and hopscotch
some of the games we use to play,having our lovely grandad coming to stay
those were the days that still make me smile,the feeling of togetherness,being a
real family for a while,
looking out of mums bedroom window,on a firework night,marvelling at the
colours,how they shone so bright
memories of mine that I hope you remember too
because my two beautiful sisters,I truly do love you..
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