Long Flood Poems
Long Flood Poems. Below are the most popular long Flood by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flood poems by poem length and keyword.
Never have I experienced this feeling before,
So warm, so cozy,so accommodating.I can't rescue myself because you've dragged into this pool of love.
Quench my thirst with your love that comes from your heart which is everflowing.
Turn your eyes from me,they are holding me captive because the look in your eyes,my sweetheart has stolen my heart.
Your love is better than wine, your fragrance better than any spice.
Close your heart to every love but mine,hold no one in your arms but me for love is as powerful as death,passion as Strong as death itself.
It bursts into flames and burns like a raging fire.
Water cannot put it out;no flood can drown it.
I Wait With Bated Breath...
(slack jaw froze mine countenance
when eyes blinded with figurative
daggers asper mistakes in original draft,
hence...this flood proof, fire resistant,
and fever reducing error free version.)
(yes...yes...yes, this rhyme
resembles a recent one of mine
from a previous time,
yet appropriating wands zone writing
haint no crime -
at least not yet!)
Okay bull heave me you,
at this moment
alm completely unaware
what the a muse zing
genie of poetic
inspiration will bring
possibly shelving what Calliope
holds in store for me,
meanwhile now
with impatience it ching
visa vis to discover
what this Earthling,
(albeit modest) will be amazingly
graced with pizazz, meanwhile aye fling
haphazardly, indiscriminately,
and jocosely blitz
krieg feebly attempting
to contrive ingeniousness emits
poetic prestidigitation in fits
and starts, sans "FAKE" wits
as this humble
human imperceptibly orbitz
around mister Sun,
(which about bajillion years
from now suddenly quits)
shining foisting misery,
where Nyx knocks
(paddy whack give
my dog a bone...) divinely,
knowingly and spiritedly visits
(believe me you) this trumpeting
stupid moron loser
forever doth taint
after this moment
(no need tubby saint
lee and suppress any quaint
gut wrenching chortle)
at what aint
no farce), nor literary feint
yours truly painfully,
sorrowfully, and verily avers,
he now lacks fire and fury
(as if nettled and docked by burrs)
nonetheless, which ambition
dust hanker mink thinks furs,
and foremost (Tom
morrow i.e. purrs
sues tha owl mighty,
where fame posthumously spurs
me amidst pantheon
of great writers
which dream dashed
into a million,
(no...no...no...not
bajillion this instance,
though good guess) pieces
abysmal silence replacing
(palimpsest like),
mine over active imagination whirs.
Once again, he dresses himself with flour-puffed face,neck ruffles and oversized shoes ,
all this fanfare for kids wiggling Barney Bailey shrieks :
He juggles coins, flashes a silly mime while blistered thoughts knead in the circus of a mind:
his son lost lying in a bed of snuffed dreams exiting from the ghastly night while clouds dim beneath the marquee...
Giggles flood the rows where laughter drowns a sea of guffaws; a moment when life becomes a lampoon a farce
an illusion :
No one knows the polka dot tears which press inside a clown's leaking heart
as he traces the wild grins of youngsters seeking his presence ,
youngsters like his own lifeless child--
own child he did not watch go the light...
his false laughter turns into silent howls
imploring just an intermission from
the stage.
But the show must go on where the absurdity of man is , once again , enacted.
The continued story of this poet
Haters r going to be mad that I even wrote it
Here is where I give u "The Business"
Like a lightning bolt striking with a quickness
Trust me, u haven't heard the best of it
A debt to collect and I'm gonna settle it
Mouths sown shut like a gangsters lips
Leave everybody sleeping with the fishes
The lips tell no lies just like a politician
This is the Sh*t Talkers Edition
I don't do well staying inside the box
I'm better at picking locks
But ur lady just lets me in when I knock
Words like cells in my blood
Flowing through these veins like the levee during a flood
No filter from the brain to my paper
Just a figment of imaginary literature, kinda like vapor
In the Poetic Justice League and I'm the Caped Crusader
By the end I'll be your Daddy like Darth Vader
Enough of the dilly dallying and chitter chatter
Down to Brass tax, nitty gritty, the heart of the matter
All in ur face, screaming, "U can't see me!"
Letting words "Float like a butterfly & sting like a bee"
Leaving all the drama behind me
From this point forward
Pulling all the hit contracts I ordered
"Keep Stepping" and move forward
Wouldn't still be here if it wasn't for the Lord
Got an ppointment with fate,
Best not be late
Happiness & havoc is what I hope to create
If u haven't notice I am a Problem
U better have listened to everything I told them
A fresh canvas has endless possibilities
Maybe a mural of myself among other Poetic Deities
Or a sketch of the lies that I made those people believe
Truth is gray and things aren't what they seem to be
Tread not on me, brother!
To live is to expand.
Deterrence! Slay the Other!
Cold core countermand!
Boots a-click-clack, cobblestone.
Midnight raid and how!
Help the boy to hold his own!
Sacred, O my cow!
Written in the ancient s blood?
Time to cause a flood!
Rill and river, ricin, rud!
Break, fade, flash, firewood!
Bats before the bayonets?
Batons too can kill.
Settle in before she sets?
Providence, thy will.
Wild as any modern force?
Stranger than the sea?
Shift, O river, from thy course?
Not the likes of me!
Covert action! Civilize!
Cut them down to size!
Aim for whites of foemen eyes!
Dare to criticize?
Thunder, roll o'er city street!
Alarums to ring!
Riot team, best ye complete!
Jerk them on the string!
Silent aftermath, thy path.
Kingdom, how ye grew.
Pour out poison on the math!
Hope, need talking to...
... stalactites hung like dystopian snot from a statue
her brain was frozen and formed ice in her mind
a lacuna without inlet or outlet arrested in time
mind’s skates tied up in bundles of snowflakes
gloves off for defeat with all speed set in arrest
not even her black woollen hat showed any signs
of thawing heart-warming emotions for comfort
empty speech bubbles covered her scraped tongue
where a mouth-watering waterfall should pursue
a pick axe with nothing left to dissect or construct
dangled from a callous corpus callosum in pain
unable to connect right left wrong or left to correct
this was not what searching tranquillity had promised
in contrast transcendence wept at chilly flood gates
a voice that had so much to part with in a landscape
of permanent layers of verglas onto vaporous rime
she wished for some slime or yuck glopping goo
but permafrost refused a glimpse of impermanence
a fool thought it funny to stick a carrot in her nostril
helpless she could not leave the vegetative state of affairs
clung to a string of crystal beads at pearly gates of no return
this is a lie I am Pinocchio at the threshold of truth
a metaphor unable to break the spell of apocalypse
unfulfilled amphora and vessel that can’t even leak
incontinence at the pointless orifice of evacuation
without one drop of hope for cataracts to dissolve
a lonely icebreaker with nothing left to crack open
where a firm skull should harbour my residual flow
when a polar bear embraced her unbalanced spectre
shared his white furry coat under a mantle of darkness
shales of introjection floated away from the solar eclipse
which had sheltered her from a charcoaled manic cauldron
touching middle grounds in between scorching euphoria
and lifeless apathy just long enough to remember that she had
not taken her medication and the self-help manual was useless
sometimes catharsis has to wait for one small lucid moment
when a beak meets a beaker and cascades start from a dribble
A true-love gone to tears,
As lost-love came to be.
Sandy writes her heart out,
Through her love of poetry.
Her ex and her children,
Moved to a different state.
When left all alone it caused,
Her aching heart to break.
With a flood of memories,
Of the past and all its’ hurts.
She embedded all her pain,
In the stanzas of her work.
Her heart channeled through,
The writings of her pen.
Describing the life of love,
That she was living in.
She had found true-love,
But the love did not last.
Sandy Schermerhorn loves,
Writing the romantic past.
____________________________
Dedicated to Sandy Shermerhorn,
for her constant support and her
love of romantic poetry.
Welcome! I am Captain G. Willikers.
Really? Truly? That be your name.
Oh no, Silly Billy, hid'n d'G all the same.
O let' me guess, O let' me guess.
What could d'G be..
Guess away, guess away
it's your time it's your cruise
but keep away, keep away
for I've no interest in your clues
but how will I know the truth
if you're going to be uncouth
okay, it's not easy, rarely heard
since the days the flood dried the Earth
What flood?
The Great Flood!
Which one?
The only one!
Are you talkin' biblical?
Not at all being comical.
Oh, there's a GEE of history,
So Gilgamesh your name to be.
History, your cup of tea?
I drink coffee with my tea ...
Gilgamesh Aloysius Willikers,
at your service!
Tomimbum Winn Shogun -- visitors
makes you nervous?
Your name sounds like, 'with shotgun'
--am I right?
Bookends my weekends, weakened by
my shootin's.
T: Dinner.
G: Sixer.
T: Never ate with a god, ever.
G: Nor I, so affairs a Black Tie?
T: A god's not good enough for a White Dinner Jacket?
G: Only the hood--cleaners returned--the rest, they'll pack it.
T: What?
G: Got ya!
T: I'm lookin' forward to a very good time!
G: Of lookin' backward to once upon a time ...
"Our differences are like the pieces of a puzzle called life."
I grew up a girl with lots of missing pieces,
and I am still an unsolved mystery;
oh, if I could gather them all,
all the pretty colors and hues of me.
All the pieces of my journey have been scattered,
and have left my soul shattered and tattered;
leaving me questions and query,
with no answers that leave me quite teary.
Life can be just jagged, broken, fragmented pieces,
ups, downs- frustration that never ceases;
some pieces open a flood gate,
to discovering this life's true purpose and fate.
I collect all the pieces that I find in life,
all the lost, weird, odd, and tattered pieces;
and I will always be searching,
for the corners, frame and inside of my puzzle.
"Its all the odd shaped pieces, all the missing
ones, that will create the masterpiece that is me."
Quote _by Constance
I breathe poetry into my lungs,
It is my lifeline,
Together, we have climbed many rungs,
'tis a great pastime!
I breathe poetry out to the world,
It is my message,
My thoughts in rhymes and verses unfurled
on the written page!
I breathe poetry into my veins,
It refreshes me,
I pen it down in rhythmic refrains,
'tis my muse's plea!
I breathe poetry out to the earth,
It is my musing,
I etch it in paper for it's worth
someone's perusing!
I breathe poetry into my blood,
It keeps me alive,
I cannot stem it when feelings flood,
It helps my mind thrive!