Long Gnawed Poems
Long Gnawed Poems. Below are the most popular long Gnawed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gnawed poems by poem length and keyword.
My dreams are nightmares.
I am forced to stay awake through sleepless nights
so I won’t hear the lamentations of my ghosts.
Endless monologues with my demons.
The devil fears the darkness that perfumes my mind,
a descendant of a cannibal tribe.
I violate all human laws
that massacre my dignity.
Being a slave is not in my plans.
It’s war until the graveyard.
Indelible scars,
medals to adorn my boldness.
The suffering my body endures
turns my life into a horror film.
I hate the human species
and I have no pet to compensate.
These insatiable parasites call me a psychopath.
I dream of slitting a pedophile’s throat
before the eyes of a rapist
waiting for his hour of execution.
I am a predator,
I will never endure their persecutions.
Hatred has replaced love in my heart.
A hardened criminal, not sentimental.
Nothing romantic,
poetry is grim
like the entrails of hell.
I carry the lights of darkness,
like the chains
that gnawed at the flesh of my dehumanized ancestors
in slave plantations.
I hate misery
and the savagery of capitalism.
I am addicted to life
like a junkie hooked on his dose of crack.
I will end up in the mud
on which I urinate every day.
I will end up consumed
by these fleeting vanities.
I go off-road
on the highway of dissent,
with my neuroses
and my transgressions as rearview mirrors.
No box, no code, no rules,
I am an outlaw.
With copper-toned skin, like the shoes of American supremacists
during the transatlantic slave trade,
traces of lashes
are still visible on my face.
My name is Captain Thomas Blake
William’s company commander
I am very sorry for the loss of your son
at the hands of a sniper
I did not get to know him as he was assigned
to my company only a week ago
I have enclosed his personal effects:
1. a sepia toned picture of a young woman holding a
baby boy with Mom and Me in black marker scrawled on the back
2. an envelope with the name Susie written in feminine hand on
the front containing a love letter from her
3. a well gnawed penicil and tattered notebook-
your son was an excellent poet
4. one dog eared Gideon New Testament
5. the Scot Terrier token from Monopoly
wrapped in a zip lock bag
It is with deepest regret we can only return these enclosed
items and not your living son.
With humble regards
Capt. Thomas Blake
Co. A
1st Battalion
504th Inf. Reg
82nd Airborne Div.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was born of trembling stone,
cold and sharp, unnamed, alone~
then the rains came, soft and slow,
whispering, You must flow.
I carved my path with silver teeth,
gnawed the earth beneath my feet,
sang the songs the rocks had taught me,
wore the valleys down to naught.
Men arrived with nets and prayers,
called me holy, called me theirs,
built their temples near my back~
I drowned them when I chose to crack.
Now I am old, but not yet tired,
my body wide, my voice entire.
I swallow sunsets, spit out stars,
while the moon strokes my scars.
Hank was a hard workin' cowpoke who really earned his meager pay.
He rode his ass Old Red from early dawn 'til at night he hit the hay,
Fixin' fences, ropin' steers and brandin' dogies in the old corral,
But he had an odd addiction that gnawed on his pard's morale!
He was a happy yodler which is alright fer a wrangler I suppose,
But his irritatin' warblin' caused him to nearly come to blows!
At night in the bunkhouse he would even yodel in his sleep,
Addin' to the din of his pals who were known fer snorin' deep!
His yodelin' caused cattle to stampede and hosses to buck and neigh.
Caused chickens to cease layin' aigs and cantankerous mules to bray!
Porkers squealed in their sty and the hounds barked and howled,
His comrades raged and cussed and the cats all hissed and yowled!
Even rattlesnakes were flustered and slithered to hide in dens,
And bands of coyotes skulked to seek cover in the nearby fens.
Frenzied birds vacated their cozy nests and fled to distant climes,
And Cookie got upset since the guys couldn't hear his supper chimes!
The grizzled old ranch boss called Hank aside fer a serious session,
Sayin', "Son, you're creatin' havoc 'round hyar with yer damn obsession!
Take yer ass and yodler to swoon the gals at the Dry Gulch Saloon,
'Cause if'n you keep it up 'round hyar, you'll hit the road and soon!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
A fallow season a time of trivial hungers
that gnawed like a hypocrites prayer.
It was a Wednesday, or one of those days
with sorrow sewn into it like a prison blanket.
He had been unlocked like a gulls beak
his cry screeched from decades of dust.
“My ghost is in your body Beloved,
no one sees our earth;
the sunset and the ocean
fall into each other this way.
Death me in your moment my love.”
An imago had surfaced,
an image joined to something
he once passed through or touched
or noticed not with his eyes.
Under his skin, he pours stars
black stars, bright stars
the living and the dead are him.
“Death me, as I stand, sit, or sleep,
plant your prayers deep into my emptiness,
drug my senses with yours,
dance me with your insatiable desires,
drag me up, drag me into
this dazzling death by light.”
At first, you watched in awe
Observing the impact of WORD
Mountains moved
The Earth groaned
The Ocean Roared
...in silence
It got old, quickly
As your feet moved
Darting from ear to ear
Stirring up your brew
Bringing boiling water
...to whistle
Put your money
Where your mouth is
And so silver
Dropped upon the table
Of thirsty men
...to purchase
A god without a name
No notoriety to blame
Deliverance and healing
Of nobody from nowhere
...to sing
Dead and gone
Followers pinned down
No one will rise
When ink and pen resound
...twisted truth
You gnawed the tongue
With deeds of terror
Making children bow
To sowing your seed
...in gall
The one place
You couldn't touch
In the process of Word's
Natural death
...gives LIFE eternal
Written by Trudy Schrader on 06-19-2024
Note: Six means: Marriage (spiritual)/Family (natural), Five means Ministry (spiritual)/Work (natural), and Four means Direction (Spiritual)/ Order (natural)
During a period of despair and emptiness,
I used to peer into deep tunnels of pettiness.
Dark and dull hobgoblins gnawed at my heart,
I've developed a strong sense of impart.
Now, each one grasps what we are withholding,
The term "long and narrow" is thrown around.
I am on a road, and yeah, it's long and winding,
However, this synopsis does not seem sound.
I would never have affected anyone's life,
Ultimately, a vast difference was initiated.
Fifty years of life were squandered in strife,
Life seemed pointless, mushy, and drab, vitiated.
Hence, it is partial and cannot reveal any insight,
Unless you say, it is an elephant that stops the sun.
Could someone testify why it was swayed by my sight?
Why would somebody do so? Should this be done?
intending to move away from pain and sorrow,
Spare me from a need for joy and not being hollow.
When I shout, "God, I perceive you apprehend me?"
A terrible desire for liberation from slavery.
One day, I was engulfed by intense sadness,
God intervenes in illustrating caring gladness.
A letter in the mail would provide an answer,
Mental peace, healing, and renewing enhancers.
God's glory drew many to live's discovery,
assisting them on the road to recovery.
Uttering them, you are keen to support the hand,
Except for being in pain and ready to stand.
My endless tears of emotional pain,
Meet the rainbow that turns into rain.
I now feel completely healed and whole,
Light shines into the hatchery of my soul.
We praise God for this marvelous breakthrough,
He restored me, and my soul got a fresh renew.
He wrapped me in the warmth of his embrace,
With love, he protects me and shields me from disgrace.
Written: October 12, 2022
ER: Enlightenment Recovery Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
She’d kept the pewter dusted and displayed
since 1969.
A verdigris had leached out of the urn nevertheless.
She had been hard on him, had forgiven little,
but felt much closer now.
The television became a corner coffin,
its screen a penumbra she often spoke to.
She had interred it in 1974 after Nixon left office
“Disgraceful.” She had said both to his ashes,
and the ancient T.V. set.
A part of her husband remained to dwell with her,
the homunculus felt like a much-chewed jawbone
rattling in the urn.
She began to dream.
His tweed suit walked from its closest,
to make love to her,
sleeves caressed sensitive pockets.
When she awoke, she smelled of mothballs,
Brylcreem and Old Spice.
The television came to life.
the blue monochrome face of Nixon appearing,
he was crying.
his permanent five o’clock shadow damp with tears.
“Sorry Mabel.” He spoke.
“You should be.” She retorted hotly,
yet her heart skipped a beat as the screen died.
She was troubled.
She broke the glass front of the TV
placing her husband's urn within it.
The urn grew greener as if it were full of Ohio River water.
She saw herself as a young girl swimming
in a river as refreshing as a lime phosphate.
The urn glimmered as new images surfaced,
a tenderness gnawed at her.
Her late spouse teased her with fingers
plucked from her own lap.
He brushed her lips with threads of gray.
Her bitterness toward him
become a speck she kept in a jar of Pond’s facial cream.
“Just in case,” she thought.
I left the kettle hissing,
A blue serpent coiling in the kitchen.
The window’s breath was winter—
It kissed me cold, a mother I never had.
I was a bone in the mouth of the world,
Gnawed down to a pale thought.
The mirror grew teeth—
It ate my face
The room was quiet as paper,
Holding its breath for the pen.
Ink pooled in the corners
Like milk left too long.
The hours no longer spoke—
They only stared,
Thin and pale as candles
Waiting for a match.
My hands folded themselves
As if in prayer,
But the prayer was a stone,
And it would not float.
Some doors open inward,
Others open nowhere.
I found the one
That would not close again.
Hundred million K' away neighbour, Mars
Hovers bolognese smeared brother, ice brick
Fondness for possibles although bizarre
Intoxicate screw loose hair brained psychic
Frog skin glint silk soak, last page of atlas
Frigid rift in regolith terracotta
Ancient alien sustaining chalice
Embalms escargot creatures exotic
Savant submerged in claiming lake, limbs grey
Gnawed on by hordes of sword fish ravenous
Haunting waters, explorer credere
Stores files in his spongy tissue camera
Angora cotton ball goats, horns antennas
Munch dust, dull marbles watch earth untether
Still the twentieth of October
Extra terrestrial Thursday