Long Gnashed Poems
Long Gnashed Poems. Below are the most popular long Gnashed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gnashed poems by poem length and keyword.
* I hope you enjoy - this is a version of a form I created called CINQOPET. A lot of layers and device in this one, a bit of dark fun, and sort of a Poe/Nash mashup … I’ll leave it to you to decide what it’s about. *
~
once …
there, with trunks of monkey’s meth
there grew a breadth of bunky breaths
deplored by dreaded drunky deaths
to calm their chemic coggers
the fame of phlegmic foggers
so deep and dark those dribble bibs
didst dig their dearest double-dibs
and drowned, the fartish fizzles fibbed
and, preened with puzzled puzzlers
quite choked their chucking guzzlers
tho bending tendrils tripped those drips
while fending dental dents and flips
sweet sheets and fleeting fears and fripps
were cooked like crooked misers
gnashed, woke, their broke incisors
their tangles dangled fangs and faults
hanged visions, pinched with vile vaults
so schlepped and crept thru hazards halts
cropped tips of crypts and gypsum
that bounced from strips and hips, some
fawning dawn and donning chesty breasts
that queen was seen ‘tween crusty crests
thrice christened, dressed as guests detest
and bound for rounds of rending
midst sounds of boundless bending
so please don’t squeeze the knees to block
what plunged that dungeon’s puerile pock
long stalked for pleasure’s treasured flock
and measured, stained through streaming
the blessed blue bolts a-beaming …
dusk’s darkness, drowned and dreaming
those tender treats deemed “scheming”
found fast asleep
their terror’s heap
with wailing’s weep
that keep, breached deep and screaming
screaming ...
screaming.
Copyright © 2022 Gregory Richard Barden
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with GALA AI software )
The Holy Cross Redeemeth My Soul Forevermore
Your everlasting door
Is of ever old
My broken vessel you died for
Your jealous wrath is rather bold
Your breath giveth life
Before honor is humility
For your word is pure ,without strife
For the flesh is weak and bound to fragility
Your word is a double edged sword
False lips shall not go unpunished
Your mercy is without bound , Lord
A mere lamb to the slaughter, I’ve been changed,demolished
One of greed
Broken spirited and quick to anger
Sought the spoils of my deed
Bone and flesh, he seeks forth grander
Death shall be his doom
He’s fallen to mischief and deceit
Forever trapped in that burning room
Broken without remedy , boastful of conceit
My faith shall be restored
Of God’s never ending love
Of a faith I can’t afford
Peace shall surely come thereof
Forgive me in the name of Jesus
My blemishes are wounds unresolved
I’m at a state of grievous
My faith is weakened in concentration, nearly dissolved
I need you now more than ever before
My heart is in calamity and disarray
I will seek your kingdom forevermore
My heart’s been out on display
And gnashed by a human beast
Shredded into pieces and pulled apart
A man is likened to a priest
A false prophet of the devil stole my heart
Ran with it and laughed
He is wicked and plays tricks
He claims to practice the dark craft
All in all my heart harden as bricks
Lord of all lords,
Bring peace after such catastrophe
I long for joy at the end of the tunnel
I wish for nothing but you
Cleanse and filter me through your funnel
You are great in all you do
Let me see you in all your truth
Do all you promise you would
Give me a little more proof
Reassure me that it’ll work out for the good
I will praise thee for as long as I live
I repeant of my sins
And I shall surely forgive
And count my wins
Marckincia Jean
Rhyme
05/05/20
O April
how I’ve longed for your return
to breathe new life
into this gnarled body..
for these roots to be unfettered
from the grasping earthen frost -
the past season of fanged nor’easters gnashed
me bare - leaving me mauled and dulled
alone with stiffened limbs
lifted to face
the hard glower of old man winter
with not a morsel of mercy to be gained
but April
now that you're here to share
the innocence of the daisy
and the honeyed scent of the sweet pea
I feel inspirited like a sapling young and tender again;
mild is the fog’s embrace in early morn
as I taste your sweetened rainwater
and gentle is the rhythm of baptizing
showers bathing dark days away..
and ever grateful is my grayed heart
as it begins to beat
with the fresh pulse of verdant rebirth
oh April
how easily you inspire
my shy imagination to fly
with the zephyr's muse
to expand my artistry
in an afternoon’s brushstroke of forsythia light
dreams once frozen now thawed and golden
eager to flourish in bloom
awakening the poetry
in a new leaf’s unfurling whisper -
a whisper that grows a praising wind-psalm
as choirs of bursting buds
celebrate revival
with a rustling alleluia!
star-shaped sails rouse in swishing sounds
their leafy lyrical breath one with the breeze
my green-laden boughs now a wellspring
of exuberant born-again voices
a thronging rejoice lifted
to the heavens on the whisk of the westerlies;
supple is my sweep and sway ‘neath
the soft-bellied skies of Spring
dear lady, April
how I revel in the glorious abundance of your Nature;
your nurture enlivens my humble woody being
and though gray may shade my weather-beaten heart..
evergreen is my soul
Susan Ashley
April 12, 2021
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: April
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
**************************************************************************
....“But Solomon built Him a house. However, the Most High does not
Dwell in temples made with hands, as the prophet says: `Heaven Is
My throne, and earth is My footstool. What house will you build for Me?
Says the Lord, or what is the place of My rest? Has My hand not made
All these things?` You stiff necked and uncircumcised in heart and ears!
You always resist the Holy Spirit: as your fathers did, so do you.
Which of the prophets did your fathers not persecute? And they killed
Those who foretold the coming of the Just One, of whom you now have
Become the betrayers and murderers, who have received the law
By the direction of angels and have not kept it.`
When they heard these things they were cut to the heart, and they
Gnashed at him with teeth. But he, being full of the Holy Spirit ~
Gazed into heaven and saw The Glory of God, and Jesus standing....
At the right hand of God, and said, `Look! I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man
Standing at the right hand of God!` Then they cried out with a loud
Voice, stopped their ears, ran at him, with one accord; and they
Cast him out of the city and stoned him. And the witnesses laid down
Their clothes at the feet of a young man named Saul. And they stoned
Stephen as he was calling on God and saying
`Lord Jesus, receive my Spirit.` ~
Then he knelt down and cried out with a loud voice, `Lord, do not
Charge them with this sin.` And when he had said this, he fell asleep.”
**************************************************************************
....“The Book of Acts, Chapter 7.” *
Form:
Congressman and senators forewent
all manner of civility, fidelity and integrity wii
hull ding broadswords, derringers
and firearms as all hell broke loose as testimony
to the dire prognostication foretold
more than saber rattling and Gatling guns que
kind from lambastes, fisticuffs
and brickbats ratcheted up as agents provocateurs nee
said obedience to semper fidelis credo, coda and cock knee
stance when dire straits called for restraint
against excess versus raising cane old hickory
i.e. Andrew Jackson latched onto when opposing with energy
and verve espoused by fellow delegates, and his hologram ghost bloody
from battle scars outside and/or inside
the halls of government where blows bashed
dovetailed elected legislators to officiate
as angry birds viz brouhaha clashed
Federalist against their nemesis
of the twenty first century
during the term of Donald Trump
who throve on the cutthroat frenzied
internecine lawlessness dashed
to and fro, hither and yon any hope for civilians to escape bloodshed
spilled from without vaunted halls of justice,
the approach of doomsday
writ large as anarchy and mayhem flashed
with uproarious coup d’etat,
when Democrats outliers gnashed
teeth, and nonestablishmentarian outlaws
pistol whipped and hashed
tagged traitors who roared America
went bankrupt at sold at fire sale price slashed
when Donald Trump ran the country
into the ground evidenced by Molotov Cocktails residue
in concert with the sulfuric odor of hand grenades trashed
Form:
when Democrats outliers gnashed
teeth, and nonestablishmentarian outlaws
pistol whipped and hashed
tagged traitors who roared America
went bankrupt at sold at fire sale price slashed
when Donald Trump ran the country
into the ground evidenced by Molotov Cocktails residue
in concert with the sulfuric odor of hand grenades trashed
like some sorority or fraternity house
left the sanctified righteous West Wing
with powder puffs sans canisters
of pepper spray, whereby
most docile, humble, and liberal took a page
from playbook of Pandora, and took an aimless swing
at the root cause of melee by hurling objet’s d’art
at the pompous trump ping
Septuagenarian, whose platoons of goons
rent asunder peoples against their king
the donnybrook heathen, whose remarks
against libertarian rubric that made America great
wantonly soup peer egg go whist tickly
reviving prejudices declared dead
from yesteryear and his attempt to bring
back the glory days, when Whistler Blowers
getting water boarded and aching
deigning to implement dictatorship
of the Proletariat as a capital idée fix
weaving together, the salient strengths
viz founding fathers credo gave licks
to King George, and now in an ironic
twist and shout of fate through eclectic mix
basket of deplorables further shamed
by being routed by the New York Nicks
sewed jaws, heads of state, and dignitaries
with limping bodies spent like derricks
Oil used up and no place to go except
to keep Alice in Chains and
Alice Cooper Company with toys in the attics.
Milanda keeps the voice to herself; she likes the keening of it.
The wails keep her on her toes, as the poltergeist rules her.
The shudders are drawn, and there are ghoulish shadows.
This is as it must be the poltergeist whispers in spook voice.
Milanda’s parents are alarmed, they take her to a psychiatrist.
He prescribes lithium which she pretends to take. Ha Ha.
For they are not going to take her demon girl from her.
She has a life now fashioned against all of their principals.
She is eager to find out about the darkness of the world.
The poltergeist moves her on demonic strings.
She resists in no way, glad to blame another for her antics.
She used to be on her own, but now there are two of her.
What is happening? Her mother asks. Talk to me.
She is the enemy the demon girl hisses. She nods, understanding.
It is the two of us against all of these others. They paint the room black.
Lie in the bed, whispering things that would alarm the girl’s parents.
Her father comes in to speak to her. She is annoyed beyond her threshold.
How dare he act like things are normal, when he was the one who split her.
His antics are what drove her to develop a demon girl in the first place.
She sends him out, consternated, not understanding his princess at all.
At least he did not touch us, the demon girl poltergeist says.
Milanda had hoped that he would. She is feeling strong and savage now.
She would have torn him apart, gnashed him with her teeth.
She would be glad to destroy him as he had destroyed her trust years ago.
From the crag I see the path
descend into the valley
shrouded in the shadows of
doubt, uncertainty, and fear of failure.
I see a white pillar cast in regret's cold salt-stone,
from which there is no turning back.
Even a brief glance back over the shoulder
up into the bright crags of peaks above,
bathed in bright sunlight in the path behind me,
will cause me to fall off the path side,
into the chasm of hell, penance, suffering and retribution,
toppling off the cliff with arms and legs flailing,
tumbling out of control,
screaming through gnashed teeth.
The shadows wreak of tales untold,
of battles fought and lost,
of past losses and retreats on endless repeats.
The mists wreak and stink of echoes
returning, haunting back to
what was longing to be forgotten,
as I step lightly
into the shadows of the valley.
I draw in my collar around my cheeks,
drag my hood over to cover my head,
pull my arms tightly against my body
to retain my bodily heat
to shield against the dank, dark, nagging cold,
I look ahead with steely-eyed determination
to soldier-on with the resilience and resolve
that's deeply forged within the marrow of my bones
I take another step down
to rise above the easy path
to self-victimization, subterfuge and blame.
I succumb without a whimper
to the blast furnace.
To be heated soft to red-white hot.
To be beaten and banged,
by the blacksmith clad in leather,
into an steely shape
only useful when cold.
The umbilical cord
Of surreals reality....
Mercilessly attached
To this shuddered room child
Inceptions twin, of the truly unwished for!?
Choked upon its arrival, incessantly
Into this third worlds realm
Destined, for pathos brain damaged
Behind these painted red doors
Of soon to be, delivered....
Atop this crumbling winding staircase, of woe!?
Bolted, inside the walls of biles chambers
Their manical screams resounding
Throughout the blood rooted bodings
Born, afore this portentously ominous plight....
Such as Poe's, "House of Usher"
This prevailing pervading phantom, of personified!?
Reflections of a shackled and gnashed life; trapped
Beneath the flesh of a lost souls, solleret sublime
Subliminal subjectives hypnotized, by the twenty faces of
Icosahedrons lineage....
Mangled through the vines of conceived
The begotten of the begets, concubine of death
Benedictions decree, of deliriums deliverer of these times!?
Portents passage, profoundly embedded within countless lives
And again like Poe, "all they loved, they loved alone"....
These morbid etchings of surreals reality, mercilessly attached
To the umbilical cord of another shuddered room child
Bolted inside, the prophetically red painted confines, of biles chambers
Broken glass and gushing wounds, as they screamed, among the tombs!?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And they call me, "Legion"....
Form:
Unsolicited feedback
across rock of ages woke
beguiling ghostly busty spectre
courtesy Marie-Antoinette,
(i.e. bride of France's arty choke
King Louis XVI) bespoke
let him eat cake, and (sic)
send back the bloody bloke,
aye suddenly begot idea rye
Jack Corner of zee desk
didst impale and provoke
moderately painful injury
right side rib cage
analogous to intriguing
unfortunate circumstance
mysterious secret shrouded
as dagger and cloak
(think Alfred E. Neuman,
viz MAD Magazine), yes no joke
lovely bones of me body electric,
(particularly right side rib cage)
severely traumatized, nailed, injured...
crucified oft told umteen times,
yet omitting key mirrors and smoke,
significant Dorian Gray parallel,
when former antique,
viz secrétaire looking glass reflection,
spider hairline fractures radiated
resembled bay of pigs in a poke
ham handedly oinked,
quaked, shattered... broke
into bajillion pieces
deafening, exploding,
glowering thunder stroke
jagged shrapnel size shards
unleashed cosmic force
lacerated, gnashed, beribboned...
impeaching flesh with
one engulfed masterstroke,
no rhyme nor reason aiming to choke
off promising poet (ha) of corpse
resembling scrambled egg yolk
posthumous fame besmoke
salvaged mine besmirched reputation
courtesy humble cartoon character
bugs bunny and kinfolk spoke
daffy fully eulogizing humor did evoke.