Long Ghosts Poems
Long Ghosts Poems. Below are the most popular long Ghosts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ghosts poems by poem length and keyword.
Thankfully wife as helpmate available,
when yours truly feels unswell
her tender loving care can spell
relief afflicted which she can hopefully quell
but spouse of mine, he doth not aim to oversell
nevertheless counterpart valued
as once me Matty Mattel
prized boyhood toy unfailingly and unstintingly
reflected, mirrored and kickstarted mood to kvell
and encapsulate impossible mission,
thus now grown lad with sincerity does impel
to communicate how thoughts gel
regarding how the missus tries to expel
his physical displeasure
while sequestered within B44 prison cell
as dark shadows creep along the edge of night
surreal as ghosts made manifest
courtesy fratricidal brothers Cain and Abel.
The charming primary physician
at Patients Matter Always (Doctor York Yang)
prescribed Amoxicillin 500 MG Capsules
one capsule three times a day.
Two days since visit with
aforementioned medical practitioner I went
and thus far, no reduction
to swallow without great strain,
hence crafting reasonable rhyme I vent,
which lame endeavor
marginally alleviates torment
rendering swallowing painful
despite depending
on above pharmacological medicine
synthesized courtesy countless
top notch star students
upon landing dream job
able, ready and willing to pay rent
at pricey residences
with regal names such as Kent
Village Apartments, Kent Place Residences,
versus drab Highland Manor
which costs me one hundred ninety red cent
every month, no doubt a bargain
yet absent amenities
most every tenant here would assent.
Although prone to experiencing chills
still slight drawback extra frills
case in point on site medic clinic
would be grand for folks
long in the tooth
regarding being old, yet over the hills
and far away Teletubbies come to play
attempting to draw out child within
once garden variety Jacks and Jills
unfortunately many youngster
plucked by steel mills
decades later in their dotage
heavily rely on magic potions and pills
to facilitate basic ambulatory skills.
no one sees them
as the veils begin to shift
and night falls
ghosts begin their walk
high heels tattered and worn down
jeans stiff from two days wear
jesus dangling between their breasts
at the corner of a downturned mouth
spit and a cigarette gather
jittering and itching they rub their arms
awaiting the next rush and run YEAH !
when the cops are around ? like rats
they scamper and skitter into the shade
will-o-wisp's they arrive and depart
and into unknown destinations they travel
for moments of ecstasy with new and old
'friends'
the hours draw thin the air turns moist
day is coming, and like vampires
they withdraw to the shadow of light
until the darkness echos once again
Verse 1
I built my kingdom out of noise and flame
Ran from the mirror, never learned my name
Clock on the wall kept cuttin’ me down
Every promise buried underground
I chased the thunder, I cursed the rain
Said I felt nothin’ but I felt the pain
Held tight to anger, called it control
Watched the years eat holes in my soul
Pre-Chorus
Hands were full but my grip was weak
Truth was loud but I wouldn’t speak
Chorus
It has all slipped through my fingers
Like dust I swore was gold
Faces fade, the fire lingers
But I’m tired of bein’ cold
Every sin still whispers
Every scar still sings
I reach back through the embers
It has all slipped through my fingers
Verse 2
I wore my armor, I wore my pride
Built iron walls to keep love outside
Said “I’m fine” with a clenched jaw smile
Been lost in plain sight for a long, long while
I drank the silence, I fed the lie
Watched the best parts of me pass by
Echoes of laughter, ghosts of home
Turns out strength ain’t walkin’ alone
Pre-Chorus
I held the wheel but I burned the map
Now I’m starin’ down the aftermath
Chorus
It has all slipped through my fingers
Like time I couldn’t bend
I fought my demons, crowned them kings
Now they won’t pretend
Every night still lingers
Every bell still rings
I reach back through the embers
It has all slipped through my fingers
Bridge (slow, heavy)
I don’t want forgiveness
I don’t want the blame
I just want to stand here
And say my name
If there’s still somethin’ left to save
I’ll bleed for it, I’ll stay awake.
I've searched for it in vain.
Solo
(raw, bending notes — anger turning into release)
Final Chorus
It has all slipped through my fingers
But I’m still here to feel
Broken hands, busted mirrors
But the ground is real
If redemption lingers
In these shattered things
I’ll carve hope from the splinters
Though it slipped through my fingers
Outro
Slipped… through my fingers
But I’m still standin’ here
Waiting for the day when I come home
who is that strange pilot? Why is he not in the cockpit?
Naomi tried to stifle her six-year-old son’s shrill voice
although psychic herself, she did not broadcast it in ‘72
he keeps fading away, Tommy said. what is happening?
an older woman in the next seat smiled at mother and son.
Naomi wondered if this was a premonition
eastern flight 401 had gone down in the Everglades two months ago
a hundred and one people had lost their lives
seventy-five survivors had back, neck, leg, spine injuries.
were they on a flight to nowhere? She patted her son’s hand.
the ghost sightings had begun
on flights of LockleedL-1011-1 Tristars with salvaged parts
parts retrieved from the Everglades, after the crash
Naomi and Tommy were on one of these flights
Naomi’s husband Bud and his friend Ray had been frog-gigging
they saw the crash as it happened
began shuffling people out
saved all of the people who had been saved
the spirit of a flight attendant came to Naomi
your husband is a hero, she said
we will make sure you reach your destination safely
Naomi felt reassured, her spirit guides were never wrong ..
eastern airlines warned their employees to stop spreading rumors
there are no ghosts from the 401, they were told
you will be fired if you spread these tales
but they did remove all 401’s salvaged parts from the other planes.
The October night was dark and cold,
As the autumn sun was going down,
When I recalled the legends I had been told,
About this sleepy, little town.
There were tales about the haunted woods,
They say the wind seems to call your name,
I was going where no one should,
And if I survived, I'd never be the same.
I walked through the covered bridge,
As the harvest moon rose into the sky,
I had made it around the darkened ridge,
Just as I heard a lone wolf's cry.
I walked the path of the dark, gnarled thicket,
Through the fallen leaves of maple and oak,
I heard the chirping of a cricket,
Near the hollow, where the bullfrogs croak.
Then, I heard the "hoot" of an owl in a tree,
And the "caw" of a raven on it's perch,
The headless horseman I hoped not to see,
As I passed the graveyard near the church.
I told myself I would be alright,
Just as I heard the hooves of a horse,
But, I knew I would make it home tonight,
Because there are no ghosts, of course.
August 30th, 2013
(This was my tribute to "The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow" by Washington Irving.
I wrote it from the perspective of Ichabod Crane.)
Black Dust -by David Lustrup 2022
i wake
war torn eyes
battle within
darkest skies
im only in the middle, but its like im at the end
lifelines fully wasted
a shame i cant defend
i feel them following me
shadows in the night
ghosts of shame cloaked in black mist
thier black eyes watch me fight
i hang suspeneded in morphine
this shadow world of grey
an ocean of tears below me
above, skies of dismay...
apperitions of panic
darkness and dispair
how they swirl around me
like black dust in the air
whispers in the static
dark song serenades
they sing to me sweet sadness
and suffocate my days
id like to buy a sun ray
but i cant afford the cost
id love to find a new day but..
in darkness i am lost
Form:
She wanted to go back
to the place that expelled her-
Octopode ink on a birth certificate.
Black smoke, not blue,
Dark smatter hid from view
Pale pink sunrise
Baby blue skies...
It rained the day she cried,
newborn, still womb warm.
Instinct to live no option.
No yes and no gut feeling reply.
She needs to go back
to the genesis of needs and wants,
the whole body experience
takes up space in the air
we breathe without a care.
Approval sidelined in attachment style
ghosts the childlike grab and clutch.
Love not cut from cuddle cloth.
As years sidled by, she realized
this was all it was afterall-
her life wrapped up in swaddle
soft as spider's silk.
Organic web of sticky lies
held tricky truths stuck
firmly in disguise.
It's become time to cut the chords that bind.
Engine heart thuds in the hull,
Picks up pace, sounds push survival surge,
Mindful design is on the move.
Doused in drowze, piled up permafrost
covers, smothers, preserves, impacts
a heart petrified by spider's bite.
There is no future being hidden
from her own blinded sight.
It still rains on and off-
cloud cover in between climactic chaos
and sometimes normal weather.
Patterns of desperate needs uncover
pros and cons divide each other.
The emptied womb is no longer
a warm and welcoming vessel.
Gone forever, what's over are leftovers
not fit to feed future expansion.
She commands her craft to unberth-
Driving force a desire to disconnect
from dissonance docked in moving goalposts.
Truth breaks the trauma bond, false hopes.
There's no future in future faking.
The present is full of deliberation.
It's truly now,
or truly never.
The past is not on her horizon forever.
Posted December 31, 2023.
Our flag does not fly because the wind moves it. It flies with the last breath of each soldier who died protecting it. ~ Unknown
May opens like a folded flag,
its colors softened by memory,
its edges stitched with names
we whisper more than we speak.
This is the weekend when silence
carries the weight of footsteps
that will never return~
a hush held in the hollows of gold-star homes.
We remember the beaches at Normandy,
where young men ran on shore
into the roar of history,
their courage breaking like surf
against the teeth of tyranny.
We remember the Pacific,
its vast blue swallowing sons
who fought island by island
to keep the world from going dark.
We remember Korea’s frozen ridges,
Vietnam’s jungles thick with ghosts,
and the desert winds of distant wars
where the cost of freedom
was paid in dust and blood.
Most died without fanfare,
their stories tucked into the quiet pockets
of families who still set one extra place
at the table of their hearts.
And we~
living in the wide, unearned comfort
their sacrifice secured~
stand in the long shadow of their bravery,
knowing our prosperity is built
on the echo of their last breath.
Today, we bow our heads
not just in grief,
but in honor, and gratitude~
for those who never came home,
and for the freedom
that took their place.
Happiness is easy
when you're not looking backward
or forward through the chaos.
Summer afternoon, juice
sweet on my lips,
hands stained blueberry,
dirty hands,
smell of weed rolled up in a spliff-
puff puff, sniff sniff, breathe.
Rockin’ on a creaking porch swing,
rusty with a shot of beam, old bottle,
young hands.
Muddy feet, clean face.
Bad memories, good memories,
both intersecting.
I imagine halls filled with ghosts,
but I'm okay and so are you.
Dusk is coming fast, time flies.
Blood growing warmer
like a slow-cooked meal
left on the burner, open invitation.
Hands touching,
touching skin, fast succession.
Touch me harder fast,
legs shaking, thighs burning.
Hold me down and let me loose.
I witness your success, smile.
Hold me just a short while more,
then turn and let me dream,
sweet dreams.
There's the hint of music,
am I dreaming still?
Whatever, the sound is good.
Seeping through the window,
porch radio left on beneath
creaky porch swing.
Come close again
and leave it be.
Let's do it again tomorrow,
differently.
There was a Red Indian Chief
his name was Raging Waters
he lived a pleasant life
surrounded by his four wives
They took care of all his needs
gave him strong sons and daughters
he ruled mainly in peace not war
apart from raids on the Black Hawks
It was one of his joys to sneak up
and steal their very fine horses
and to capture some of their squaws
these he could trade for guns and whiskey
As time went on he grew very troubled
he consulted with the medicine man
who sent him to the hot bath teepee
there smoking his pipe he relaxed
Soon the visions started to appear
war was on the horizon he could see
also a squaw so comely he lost his heart
he left the teepee and sent out scouts
They scoured the lands searching for her
at last one came back with the news
she belonged to the Crows and was promised
gathering up a raiding party, he set off
At dead of night they sneaked into position
then rushed the camp catching the Crows off guard
they killed the warriors and took the squaws,
children and horses too and well tanned hides
Now there had to be a comeback from this deed
Mighty Hawk gathered his tribes of Crows
and set off for Raging Waters camp for revenge
barely escaping he fled for the mountains
There with just a handful of warriors and squaws
he set out to build up the tribe once more
when at last they had enough warriors
he set out to recapture that beautiful squaw
Never had he forgotten her soft lips on his
driven wild by his desire, he lost all caution
warned by his medicine man it would end badly
he paid no heed and set out to make war
The Crows soon heard he was on his way
and set a terrible trap in between the hills
Raging Waters and his warriors were cut down
the unlucky ones were scalped then given to the squaws
Who beat them and treated them harshly as slaves
thus a lesson was learned do not take promised squaws
Raging Waters name was in time lost in the annuals
his tribe no more, just forgotten ghosts in time
inspired by soup mail chat with Sandra