Long Footless Poems
Long Footless Poems. Below are the most popular long Footless by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Footless poems by poem length and keyword.
He goes by the name of Lacrimosa
He is the plain picture of a man
Those who don’t know him see him as a monster
But you and I know better that he is a broken friend
His smile drips of sorrow
His walk is that of a footless ghost
And should you accept his outstretched hand
And succumb to the adoring nature of his gaze
He will lead you away to a dreary place
That he calls home
And the monster will sing sweet nothings to you
And hold you safely in his arms
And though the smile on his orchid face may weep for you
Do not be ungrateful, as it is for you
You can shudder and shake and claw to get away
But you need him as much as he needs you
This puppet man who hangs from a single string
Neck crooked and marbled and hanging to the side
Will frighten and disturb those who can’t see his face
But he will protect you from the ones who claim to love you dear
He’ll hold you close and wherever you go
He’ll be there by your side, his cold hand grasping your own
He’ll be everything you need so you’ll never be alone
He’ll share with you his tears and guilt and blame
And for these gifts he asks nothing in return
But your companionship and smile for only a small time
He knows you cannot stay forever by his side
So when you’re ready to say goodbye
He’ll let you go
And he’ll insist that you keep his gifts
But in time you may throw them away
And turn your back on the weeping thing
Who gave all he had in your time of need
And let his crying fade away
But don’t look back or you’ll see him there
Extending his hand, begging to hold you in his arms once more
And should you choose to return to him
He will always welcome you
And make a place for you by his side
And one day you may decide
To snuff out the man on a string
To throw the gifts he gave back in his blotched, orchid face
And run far far away
So that never again will you see his smile so grayed
Or feel the icy sting of his clammy embrace
Never again will you sigh in the arms of a love once held dearer
Now burdened whenever they look in the mirror
With the image of what they at one time feared
Of a sad smile painted on the picture of a man
Neck crooked and marbled and hung by a string
Dangling a smile loose to the side
Tears scarring his cheeks
His arms open wide
A monster posing as a broken friend
Who goes by the name of Lacrimosa
Form:
Lament of a Traveler
So far ahead the shattered break
With drifting light through limbs that ache
So far behind left to hesitate
On raven wings broke the key of dreams
And so many footprints spent traceless
Along sundown’s passage
As they search in expectation of finding a different way
To borrow for tomorrow an illusion for today
Through petal fall and snow flake
In frosts and floating leaves
Did the parade of beauty gather to speak her mysteries
While the dust of a traveler dozed and dreamed at day break
Dawn’s greetings have echoed far from distant mountains
Silent wind to brush the grass blades speaking
Answering to the running shadows passing a dance through clouds
I am the brethren of spears, a silvered splinter, I am a shaft of sun
In footless halls the green march of trees begged the soles of shoes to wander
And softly lingered there amidst their centuries
Another time for the time where the weary may take rest
Yet now there is no respite no admission more for the traveller
The record of his strides and the crow’s feet of his eyes
No longer hold witness to the smile of splendour he has seen in nature
For all their nomadic predilections his feet will not begin
And there on ravens wings broke the key of dreams
So far behind the shattered break, so long ago when heart did not falter
Open life to the open road and the beacon of another
Never to say goodbye but fair them well, but fair them well
And still, never to travel together
Is it the reminder of years or the memories of tears
The footsteps left without or the falling locks of her dusky hair
The sweet soft reflection of her watery eyes
The pale beauty haunting of his lover whispering in the star strune skies
Never to say fair well but bid her goodbye
And still, never to journey together
In crimson dress for crimson lips as she returned to her dark sad bower
And never, no never to journey with her
In the ancestral call of righteousness
They failed the almighty creator
There in the Forbidden Garden of Eden
Who could tell where the sinful garden is now?
That smal pretty hut where sin began in deceitful manner
Then to the days of brave Noah
And the Sodom and Gomorrah set in immorally like dogs
Which kind world we are, where man is so unkind to mankind?
Doors are shut in mysterious manner then broken aftermath
Women travail in pain whilst men labour
Children are left naked swinging in pain
The footless human snake materialized all this crime
I watched as it hissed and moved about
The ancient curse to mankind in unkindly tongue caused it
Men are so unkind to mankind yet satisfied
So unkind to the universe, our little china doll
Treating her against the will of the creator
The creator wanted us to treat the universe
LIke a fragile creature he had created it to be
But sound of war sounds nearer in the image of Lucifer
Tears streaming down from the eyes of men like river flow
Man unkind to mankind, things sway and fall apart
Rolling, turning like the sun round the earth
We catch new birds each day tempted by their hips
Babies now know the distance of the journey at back
Corruption dwell and feast bread with men, blood shed
Forget not the world wars, forget not homosexuality
Remember masturbation, remember child abuse, same sex marriage
The righteous tattoos on human bodies
The death of Abel in the bleeding ground
Remember, remember, the ransom of the only son
Of what profit is wickedness anyway when sand we return?
Beautiful image of the deceiver paying tribute to mankind
Why man is unkind to mankind?
I smile not here as evil generate in our world
When would mankind problems be solved?
Is it after the messiah comes?
Pretty look betray pretty smiles
Evil has overshadowed righteousness and
Man unkind to mankind
I reminisce, I miss
The days we were called
by the stories on the screen.
My sister and I, our story
part of it written in the hall
where darkness descend gladly.
The darkness blessed us
to sew our moments together
with the pricking needle of time.
Spells, the giant screen casts always.
While sitting on our seats
we were on the alien's spaceship.
Jurassic dinosaurs even roamed in front of us.
Whole hall is a time machine.
Her tongue sipped cold cola,
My mouth demands my fingers
an unstoppable work,
to dig into the popcorn cups.
Though footless, wildly giggles
jumped right to left
from left to right on our both cheeks.
The wetness travelled down
our eyelids for the unasked
touch comes out of a story.
My poor sister.
In the middle of every story
my curiosity shows her no mercy
A lot troublesome pinches it gives her.
Who says we are brave
Horror stories do know how to
make our cells to scream their throat out.
Entangled strands of strings in
the garment our memories wearing
are those days.
The days
I reminisce, I miss.
I’m heartless.
I don’t know where my heart is.
Hateful,
I’m looking for my happiness.
But I can’t move,
I’m footless.
Grounded feeling low
like the ground is.
I’m guideless.
and I’m eyeless,
but I can see the pain that’s within this.
So I’m paralyzed and blinded.
You can’t see the peril
through my eye lids.
But I’m not earless.
Society is roaring like a lion.
If I said I didn’t listen,
I’d be lying.
The truth lies inside a victim’s eyes.
I’m blind.
My real eyes can’t realize real lies.
We all have brains,
you’re thoughtless.
Maybe I’m a victim,
but I don’t hit them,
violence can never free one.
I’m punch-less so I guess I’m living life handless.
I’m touch-less,
can’t feel bliss.
I can’t feel for the place that my heart is.
I’m not mouth-less,
I’m soundless.
Mute like a scream
from a pit that’s bottomless.
I guess I’m alive,
but I’m lifeless.
I don’t know where my life went.
So I’m fallen
because I’m flightless.
Angels can’t soar with plight.
I’m wingless.
How could I write this if I was paralyzed?
Well I’m not brainless
or thoughtless.
On this paper,
I let my thoughts drip.
My brain has a leaking faucet.
I brainstorm so much in my mind,
I flood it.
I rather feel pain
than numbness.
Please,
how can I change this?
-Stephen Kofi Opare Obeng
Form:
"...Dominus orationem meam suscepit."
Burning his little jelly bottom raw,
He blisters in his liquid greenish poop.
He has no means to summon us at all
To drain the acid swamp of split pea soup.
Except to scream, a peevish infant yawp,
And so he screams, until we take his goop.
We modestly subserve our son's ejecta.
Clean, dry and warm: his everyday trifecta.
He's not alone. I've had my days of burning.
Blistered and raw, to salve my hurt I prayed
for balm from God, ultimately learning
His summit lay on far too steep a grade.
Footless in His scree, inflamed with yearning,
My wounds combusted into wrath. I brayed
My blasphemies, then heard the Logoi fall.
I had no means to summon Him at all.
Which births a trailing thought about the sainted:
Their whispered prayers, their worshipful reclusion,
Which all the hagiographers have painted.
Don't buy it. Souls corroded with confusion,
Their love of God with hatred wholly tainted,
And Doubt the only friend to their seclusion,
With blasphemies they burnt the fetid air.
Profanation is the purest form of prayer.
Snake
You may be poised to celebrate
As shadows whirl around us
I feel you might be premature
As destiny has found us
The children cower in the dark
But hope will flick the light on
The power of fear is banished
As the King enters to fight on
So here we stand defiant
As the page is slowly turning
This chapter in the book of love
Is all about returning
No matter how you hiss and spit
Your venom is redundant
An antidote to all our woes:
Our spiritual incumbent
Is waiting in the wings
The stage is set and ready
Life is the play, and freedom sings
This plot twist sweet and heady
So shuffle on my footless friend
Your days are small in number.
We've rolled the reddened carpet out
The King's not dead.
Just rising from His slumber..
Jinjagoliath
Holy Saturday
3rd April 2021
boatman on the lonely boat
rowing east to west
with the rising sun to setting down
folk-songs play a Cupid game
in the alone heart
an abode of naughtiness
builds a palace to the far
mountain of darkness
moonlight there are
under the veiling of new nymph bride
rhythm of mind river
hails the graceful virgin night
twilight praying
in the peace and war of lusty life
Vesper comes to pour
the petals of night jasmine
starfish walking
on the footless pebbles footprints
girdle ornament sounding
with the narcotic senses
inebriated the around
none there is
just whispering of love
the whole night
the next dawn sun
discovers the two
in the court of intimated love
-08/01/2020 CTG, BDT
Maybe
Baby
Young cad
Is dad
Leaves her
For Fleur!
Teen mum
So glum
Up duff
Feels rough
Loo quick...
She’s sick
Huge tum
Soon mum
Wide girth
For birth
Can’t sleep
Counts sheep
Morning...
Yawning
Foods spurn...
Heartburn
Feels pain
Again
Again
More pain
Babe due
Needs loo
In rush
Must push
Not far
In car
With mum...
Best chum!
Log jam
Bedlam!
Head’s down
Feels crown
Mops brow
Push NOW
Babe’s born
Named Dawn
Babe screams
Mum beams
Cuts cord
In Ford!
All’s swell
Child’s well
Follow up poem inspired by Footless contest
11-1-17