Long Fizzing Poems
Long Fizzing Poems. Below are the most popular long Fizzing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fizzing poems by poem length and keyword.
They twitch along nerves
still wired to those fever
induced rooms, memories
of faces pressed against
windows, peering in through
curtains with their red eyes,
screams stuck in throats
suffocating to a groan
in gaping mouths.
There were places to hide
when day came around,
a dark cave inside
an iron shed with pale
constellations of old nail holes
feigning starlight overhead.
The world was kept
on the other side
of a peep hole
in the wall of the shed.
And yet there were lovely
flowers blooming
under a bright sun,
the day would carry on
with the ordinary things
that had to be done.
Terror would wear off
and morph into something
else instead, normalized
by the trick
of becoming numb,
or be little more than
a slight disturbance
fizzing in the wiring
of the head.
Besides,
who would understand
when what was there
has now moved
way beyond the vocabulary
of a word weary tongue.
The rain halted, but the breeze didn't cool.
Fiery sunny colors dwindle in the heat.
Cubes of sugar didn't dissolve.
Unappetizing or overgrown tea
It lacks both charm and stillness.
In that, you stated you'd stand back
Breath is a wave-spelling foam.
An array of fresh guides at a helm
Steamy urges lacking restraint
Colleen warbles a soothing tune.
Watery waves in the hair
Slanting eyes like the lustrous sun
A hug will place a froth in the veins.
A blessing from above.
If you omitted my thoughts on you.
Chimes of snow rang out in unison.
Please recognize my yesteryear.
Blazed a flame of regal blue.
When tomorrows are made of foam.
Staring up into the darkness of the sky.
Loose in waves of the cosmic ocean.
Fizzing, with the onset of quantum foams.
Sending dark energy to faraway galaxies.
Where does zero matter but odyssey?
And are in awe about never grace.
To shrink the size of the cosmos.
to within the reach of my palms.
October 29, 2022
I'll pave the path not yet paved
and lay it out my own way
reflecting how thoughts behave
as I journey this maze of life each day.
Survival will not suffice after my foundation does arise
to serve to steady nerves that surface
as I surge head first in a search to succeed
and I first second and third a thirst to not desert my needs
however bad the hurt at its worst degree
knowing these strong words have no worth to me
if strong words are all these words can be.
Should I fake movement and act out actions like actors
for image improvement when actually being active factors
and fronting while being inactive will only suck me backwards
and no luck alive will retract me back nor will words.
Cus these inspiring sounds I write don't sight activity
but do unearth reserves of fight and positivity,
preserved in my core as though separate to this reality,
spares, but once stirred appear to emerge and merge
with a fresh vitality refreshing this purged willed personality
now bravely portraying the ways of a renegade
though still a lemon and not yet lemonade
fizzing with not afraid
in this littered beaten bitter escapade
of ignorance and cluelessness verse on how to deliver
a path I wish to pave.
Strong willed with the aim of a numpty
impersonating Humpty Dumpty
while just now one thought runs free....
I want a path I cannot pave....
Have I found the Trump in me?
I take my pain to where ragers rage and writhe
in their self-absorbed gluttony on all-winter days
their tea cups are only for them
interspersed with silence and solitude
the streets are buildings without them
who are the signposts talking too?
I could have been one of them
I was one of them
and still am if hills facing the sun are cloud covered
and I don’t look out of the window to notice
then, in those un-costumed days, I am
but, and it has taken rotations of earth
backpacking through antonyms, through tropics
I have conquered tinnitus, now a comfort blanket
aiding sleep as a heart monitor line crossing a screen
I have conquered deep wells, now jews harps
jaw harps if you prefer, gewgaws, yes I have conquered
the cave of crawling space days
goblins are only a light switch and their rising finger away
but my rising finger plucks at overtones and distances
between neurons, between stars, between mees
its sound soothing, rubbing balm on a restive chest
the vibrations are fizzing and feeding me
I take my white noise and float away
sound, my therapy
A wine connoisseur and Life
Trickling pearls of red and white
The sizzling hot, the fizzing out
Pinot noir, Reisling, Chardonnay
Teroldego, Norton , Carbanet
Deliverance from all the doubts
As he sees, swirls, sniffs, sips, savors
For once he chooses, its best of world
The embroidered sweet drops with finest taste
The embellished pearly drops with blissful tizz
Oenophile's stemware filled with recherche expertise
Like a bagpiper playing best among best of tunes!
Floats our life's canoe over varied wines of emotions
We the connoisseurs need to take the tasting flight
And drink from bottles of right emotions
And drink from glasses poured in blends of doses right
To row the canoe through smoothest wines,
exotic choices we ought to make...
And enjoy the tizz of happiness,
Savor the taste of contentment,
Relish the sparkling journey
of life to cherish a vintage life!
©Anulaxmi Nayak, 2015
( had to drop it for contest as this exceeded 13 lines...)
At the table of resistance.
On which fragile plates rest.
It's like an endless stream of tasty Kaitenzushi.
Hissing and fizzing life way.
Should you over indulge, on one too many plates.
You will end up bloated and stuck in space.
For what you resist, persists.
Thus resisting floating with a medium.
Given the temple of your body.
Adjust the right amount of calibrated meals.
Adding only what you need to the never emptying plates.
That could be processed in one seeing and seating.
If you find yourself in lost Vegas.
You could just enjoy the unique smells.
Or You could chew chew chew through every meal.
Or You could just drop your entire tray.
Too much resistance will make you a dull bulb.
So lessen the load by learning lessons in all seasons.
Yet at table of resistance one might not kneed light.
To say Itadakimasu.
Shouting..salient sentient sentiment
Pouting pleasure leisure experiment
No doubting a serious impediment
Flouting the sprouting environment
Touting something really prescient
Worry routing this treasure
Beyond measure to our detriment
Admit..bit of a predicament
But experiment on a mountain outing
Surmounting the shiny crystal quilt
Sorry no guilt...in my element
Wishing I'm sliding..swooshing
Swishing..gliding..curving
Whizzing...riding...whooshing
Fizzing....whirring...swerving
Brutality of wintry tiding shrouds
Blue & white fanned duality
Astonished polarity..polished parity
Planned alternative grand reality
Beautifully bland strands...expands similarity
Understand totality of bright clarity
Wonderland spanned above the clouds
Classes canned..sunglasses on ...getting tanned
Swift lifts shift over drifts like a yo yo tow
Traverse perverse crevasses..skift rifts in a row
Passes scanned..escape the crowds… go tally ho
The lust to move with gusto.. to & fro
Adjust to the smooth groove...boho
Mojo.. august fears thrust..heave ho
Off mighty cliffs go gung ho.
Dafter go for bust or after
Splif*s just riffs of lets go slow
Depravity of a tight cavity
Leap but too steep..too deep
Land in a cheap heap hilarity
There is an olden golden friend
On whom you might rightly depend
Helps you bend..wonderfully sweep
Descend...let rip...zoom..slip...nip to the end
Giddy delight & trip fillip of the legend
That is "Gravity"!
TO BEING IN LOVE’S LOVE
Being in love is an episodic emotion
Ballooned in exotic expectation
Tested by inflated orgasmic delirium
Often fizzing in diabolical diffusion:-
On the other hand,
Loving and being loved,
Is an eternal comic reality
That God spiritually bonds
To be eternal throughout life:-
How beautiful and exciting it is
To love spiritually, and eternally;
Being in the cosmic reality of
Blessed God sent true love
Ballooning beyond all
Limits and expectations:-
Being forever in love with you
Remains exciting and loving
And being loved by you is limitless,
And beyond all expectations: Praise God!
Each day I give Him thanks for the gift of you:-
Those who crown themselves with miters and croziers
Are dry and barren canals to which I shall describe
Boats remain frozen in their abandoned and void place
The waters being a simulacrum of doctrines
Only the arid wind gives a sense of forward time
The bubbling and fizzing spring they cut from themselves
Those who pass by recognise there is nothing to drink
Only worms and serpents live within the canals
Their waters of void do not show heaven’s face above
No vision of sparkling angels appears anywhere
Nor can people see their face on the canals
Behold the crown jewels of those called servants and watchers
Inspired by this verse "Those people are dry canals." from The Apocalypse of Peter:
http://www.gnosis.org/naghamm/apopet.html
The Girl Who Cried “Death”
The most special woman
To ever walk this world,
Well, she’s died quite young,
This, I am told.
For the ash in her breath
Echos screams, melts her death.
And her lover screams out loud,
But, I am told, she makes no sound.
For in the cracks between dreams,
She slips in between.
And no one can listen,
To her, so it seems.
Because who wants to be
With the Girl who Cried “Death?”
And can friends and family
Get a wide enough breadth?
Death has been her constant
Since she was a child.
And the whole village
Always thought her wicked and wild.
The clouds o’er head
Echoed her mind’s greatest dread.
That her single thread
That kept her most sane;
Death would take her love
Before her brain
Collapsed to the ground.
‘Mong the bees and the flies
And ‘mong the soil,
Watered fresh from the skies,
Buried ‘neath it, she lies.
For their Kings and their Queens
Up there on their thrones, they could tame
The mightiest of paws;
The most fearsome of game.
So that the winter plague,
Filled with Death and visions vague;
Destroyed even King
As he lost his loved Queen.
Soon winter won the game.
Now, she joins me in the Tower,
Watches bells toll the hour;
I cackle again, she has failed.
And upon the King’s breath
Fizzing out with the snow,
She gathers her robes
And she bent her head low.
And she screamed her last ails.
For he would go
To heaven, you see,
And she was left
All alone here with me.
Well, I guess they learned their lesson,
Because this time they didn’t listen,
To the girl who cried “Death.”
For she reaps what she sow.
But I’d never do that to her, do you see??
But Death flitters by, he doesn’t trust me.
As I join the Queens by and by,
Into their fresh tea,
They let out a loud cry.
I wonder if she can hear their last breath.
But I pray that she can’t
As Death’s curtain closes,
The Queens join hand,
As they throw Death’s white roses.
I take my nightly bow.
But what of that wild girl
Whom Death flits between?
And what of her lover?
So gentle, so sanguine?
She is safe from Death for now.
Well, this is not a story,
For that girl, she is me.
And her lover, well, she
Will remain a myst’ry.
But Death has her on his list;
Do you see?
It’s cemented and written
Just ‘bove her right brow.