Long Graft Poems
Long Graft Poems. Below are the most popular long Graft by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Graft poems by poem length and keyword.
Ursus Maritimus ...
I entered your world in quietude, slipping through the granular, soft.
Long slats to feet parting the frozen. Cold of a previously unknown
Extreme, nipping, sharp, the epidermis with ardor. A Mid-May akin to
February, homeward, first warning of extrinsic ire, ignored. Hours of
Similar (sobering) revelations ensued, supplanted by days, weeks,
Moons ... reality - icebound and born of abiding trial. The basic
Elements staggering, swallowed by the providence around me. A
Vastness beyond vast, afar ... crushing cold of limitless value, each
Sunrise a new contingency for measure of my insignificance. How I
Adored you for your beauty - such reward for the naked eye, there
Amidst a denuded struggle. Shaped by eons of selection into a
Creation of perfect form and ease, as at home with desolation as
I at a warm hearth and aliment. Moving sprite through your environs,
All senses attuned to the mind's axis ... at once knowing and known,
Master of a savage domain. Every dynamism a fluid dance, every
Steamed puff of exhalation a waif of delicacy, bespoken. Do not the
Gods aspire to such? If there were deities afforded such barren and
Bleak scapes, it would be none other than you - as exquisitely
Magnificent and divine as the forbidding but breathtaking element
Around you, my brother. Yet, I fear I have doomed you, for others
Will now follow ... others who find no such elegance in anything
But graft and greed. By the simple act of watching I may have
Sealed your fate, firm and grim. So, I will not turn to admire you
As I leave ... but rather keep you forever as a phantom in my mind
And heart and longings - to let you devour my spirit and join with
You, ever after straining to hear the echo of your lonely, distant
Growl, the one that so often haunts my thoughts and meanderings,
Dark and cold in the arctic night, dark and cold in the willows ...
Deep and frozen and dreaming, of your gleaming and breathless
Beauty. If but mine to touch ... to know. Forgive me and farewell ...
Brother Bear.
The
familiar
sound
of
gunshots
rings
out
in
the
dead
of
night,as
a
sniper
takes
position
in
the
bushes
outta
sight,
Past
my
front
door
I
hear
the
sound
of
many
marching
feet,as
II
Para
make
their
presence
felt
upon
a
Belfast
street,
Gerry
Adams
does
a
hard
days
graft
and
then
its
homeward
bound,as
a
British
soldier
just
nineteen
lays
bleeding
on
the
ground,
Well
he
fought
for
Queen
and
country
so
it
comes
as
no
surprise,as
he
draws
his
last
breath,says
a
prayer
and
there
a
hero
dies,
So
many
slain
civilians
they're
just
casualties
of
war,do
the
f*ckers
even
realise
what
it
is
they're
fighting
for?
Or
has
the
whole
point
of
it
got
lost
in
the
mists
of
time,the
I'R'A
take
credit
for
their
latest
deadly
crime,
In
a
safehouse
miles
from
nowhere
there's
three
loyalists
lying
dead,one
in
a
grave
(he
was
buried
alive)and
two
with
one
straight
through
the
head,
But
the
score
it
was
even
before
the
cock
crowed,three
Catholic
civilians
were
slain,
And
there's
rumours
of
vengence
and
fights
to
the
death,and
calls
to
keep
calm
from
Sinn
Fein,
As
politicians
armed
with
pens
sit
counting
up
lost
lives,the
Ulster
Paramilitary
sit
sharpening
their
knives,
And
loading
slugs
into
the
clip
of
some
dead
soldiers
gun,"Come
on
now
lads
there's
dirty
deeds
still
waiting
to
be
done,
In
Londonderry,County
Down,in
Belfast,Newry
too,the
Catholics
and
the
protestants
keep
Ireland
torn
in
two,
As
children
grow
up
in
the
shadow
of
fear,there's
a
stench
of
death
and
bloodshed
here,
So
you
with
the
power
to
give
us
the
chance,lets
find
a
solution
and
finish
the
dance,
Give
Ireland
back
to
the
Irish...please!
or
bring
the
whole
damned
nation
crashing
down
to
its
knees.
Sensing the atmosphere for omens.
Signs of impending, cusp and verge.
I ping and curl, scrape to drudge up-
internal program and hit send
and hope for good vibes return "not the end."
I have become a lightless diode.
A buzzing lamppost in the neighborhood
of victimhood and it's backstreet node.
A useless burnt out core in off mode.
A robot running over castles
premade in the sand.
I try to read between the lines,
decrypt the Oracles plans behind,
the fulfilling jinx it has in store foe me.
Stars aligned.
A telepathy mainlining, a pulse headlining freakshow.
Of kinetic belonging, or safety net I used to abide in
long ago.
When the world had justice and overseer
and endearment-
enthronement-thoughts of the faithful.
I long for the ether of a hint,
graft me in with your marrow, splint, in the know.
Don't leave me high and dry,
Alone and crooked, wicked bent.
Odious clouds and signature mounds.
Terra-blyte your foretelling,
Either a warning or a telling of blue skys color turning.
Ether, of any which way the wind blows in my mind.
A private message, rather stalking.,
as it stands a topography cone of cold stand.
Your best made plans, for me
for the tasting, cast of shadow.
forecast, menacing.
Bound to be set in stone, found rather mocking.
Injected in-guest-guessing an after the fact thing,
for me.
You read my fear as I fill
a prescription of
my self fulfilled prophecy,
rolling the bones
with fate's hands.
I hear there's power in the knuckles,
the joints, the suggestion of glands.
Just. Faint whispers,
whisking by
warning-arrows
with no flame-
no spark burning for me.
Just a whisker filament, fading to the darkest
sharade of gray, hit parades.
To shade my own guilty sense of judgment.
Of putting my trust in false things.
With their superficial gradient of monochrome;
night rainbows,
overlooking Styx river country home
aside a brick road leading all the way to Thunderdome.
My sonar/feeler brain finding it's way
in the dark like a worm in the dung.
In someone else's element.
With no taste for mental or spiritual atonement.
Or the taste of Hope's spark on my tongue.
“Arms Full of Linnet Wings”
In the garden
that afternoon
she planted seeds
in their ripe minds
their eyes looking
up to hers their
irises dazzling
in the late afternoon
sunshine wide open
as if waiting hungrily
for more food
she dropped words into
their mouths which
they swollowed whole
jewels like memories
nebulous little darlings to grow
perhaps too young
but maybe one old enough
for the story to stitch
and in time graft
and re-sow
all her little goslings
in a row, eventually
swans, black or white
she could not tell
would never know
she held tight
to the moment
that Summer all a glimmer
and noon a purple glow
arms full of linnet's wings
she never ever wanted to let go
too soon
she would leave
the nest
long before them
she wondered
ceaselessly
about the three fates
and how they’d
grow
the seeds
she’d planted
in their minds
bloomed an entire
wild garden
undernourished
yet overgrown
(LadyLabyrinth)
for Lynette, with Love
“The linnet and the drush say
I love, I love” (PJ Harvey)
“To see a world in a grain of sand
and a Heaven in a wild flower
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
and Eternity in an hour
A Robin Redbreast in a cage
puts all Heaven in a rage
A Dove house filled
with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell thr’ all its regions”
(William Blake)
“I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.”
(William Butler Yeats)
Its Hidden Messages in my Texts
worth Examining
you can see the Chosen from The Strangling
beatens an chains
all linked to a prophecy ordained
I've looked through documents for the Author of this Manuscript
Which is me the Key the King to a degree only the oppressors see who exists
science defying the recessive diamond genes to manifest a seed to triumph
We Athletes the Giants
with Might an Speed
Born Supreme a Diamond
still we shine through out all the famine
genocidal manaics
with prideful hatred attached
Forces of evil who masquerades as the Men In Black
with the Neuralizer with a Brain zapped
With a body frame detached to tell fables of raps
i disconnected from the Cable an a fatal impact
rewired my cells so it's able to react to the tornadoes they craft
another dispatch
a brother in the pavement with no pulse to graft
wonder now how savage insane we act
we goin mad is there a way to get back
being the Power Circle
but they mixed pink lemonade in at
generator operator destroyer
i made a general observation to be a detourer
be a general overstating his Order
so they can see his illuminated Aura
we can be Kings we dont got to be gangsters
Gangster is King with the Glory given from the Creator
thats why im letting this Red Pill Orbit
you can see through all our misfortunes through our history Courses of History Horror
we are Glorious
Victorious
I Am Morpheus
who went through a Metamorphosis
who Orbited a Solar Eclipse
an Burned the Moon so the Sun can be Lit
the One in the Matrix close to the Oracle
Zion
im a Lion
who knows the Architect who designed the prints
this supreme mathematics abstracted of the Creators Calculus of my birthday to be in this present state
so you see these prime birthdate numbers is ordinal
Im the Ultimate Warrior
Against Jake the Snake
I Put Snakeskin on my Mocassins
an make chains out of they Vertebrates
an made a Vest out the Lizard Scales
My face shine with the Melanin so now you know why my Pigment isn't Pale
Soul Summoned out the Book of the Dead to Lead Nations out this Wizardry Spell
Into the Body of Israel
HARMONY 69
The night of twelfth December `69
knotted together an icy storm wind
that whipped False bay`s waves
to white -frilled blankets.
Thunderclaps against primal rocks
resonated through a ghettoe of glowing tents
on a dark, rough ,bushy patch .
Rising plaintively above the din
of drums and flapping canvas,
creole strains solicited the capricious gods
for a clement Cape .
Love songs , sweet like wine
would even tittilated mermaid`s melons,
stranding them breathless, with tails scaled.
In my sixteenth tempestuous year,
I was sickened and sullied, spoiling for a fight
with that ever- prying, ever-lying police-state
denying us
dividing us
deriding us
ripping us
whipping us
in an all-pervasive racist propaganda storm
Harmony,was forced ethnic relocation right there
in a stamp-size sea-resort next to a stinking dump.
Our yearly anticipated salty baptism,
fouled for a full ten years,
dunked in fascist soil
of a false bay with a real bite….
rubbing coarse salt in our opened wounds
Rubbing it in the flayed
William, my sire, of the black turf belly
Rubbing it in the lashed
Maxie , my ma , of white-on-black graft
Rubbing it in the spurred
Dot Adams, my oracle , of the pearled-truth tongue
imprisoned to a silent ninety-day solitary confinement. .
Yes, a full two hundred scar-studded waxes
avidly saluting the wretched who rose in revolution
drowning exploiters in the oppressed`s precious blood
Algeria whilst raped,unveiling herself,
firing fear into bared French fascism
exploding the myth of a benevolent colonialism.
“Lumumba will guide the Kongo to freedom”
grandpa agitated hopefully as revolutionary Patrice,
our dark prince of peace
died on the bloodied butts
of neo-colonial carbines.
My seven-year heart burst
in anger and pain.
A companiable heart`s balance
tilted with unease at justice , unhinged.
the periodic uprisings of people in far-flung regions
against the arrogance of anglo-saxon imperialism
salted my youth with the tears of broken children,
their blood ever spattering my angry brow.
Seven Yesrs Ago
Seven years ago on this very day,
The most wonderful man in my life passed away.
He was gentle and sweet and giving,
Played cards or bet horses for a living.
We’d go to the footy or soccer each weekend,
A tradition on which I could always depend.
Although Saturday morning he was very habitual,
In his chair in his undies with a wireless was his ritual.
Getting his tips and daily doubles for the horses,
I guess a precursor to a number of divorces.
His nature was one of pure generosity,
Without the slightest hint of anger or animosity.
Then One day he found the straight and narrow path,
Bought a coffee shop, and that meant hard graft.
His staff would love him and most stayed for years,
Then many years later were at his funeral in tears.
During this time I worked by his side,
I tell you this with an immense sense of pride.
His example was their for all of us to see,
Though it didn’t always bring the best out of me.
His whole family loved working in his very clean store,
His awesome sense of humour meant it was never a bore.
His wife, his sister, his daughters and his son,
All worked in that shop not for the pay but the fun.
As he grew older bad health caught up with him,
He did a little walking in an effort to get thin.
But with his Kantor genes his chances were slim,
I think his love of cheese is what did him in.
But with a quadruple bipass along with blood cancer,
Plus horrendous back surgery his body had no answer.
Pain was his best mate and constant companion,
He suffered in silence and was an absolute champion.
When his once dormant cancer reared up its head,
We knew time was short and that soon he’d be dead.
Then came a day I knew that he was dreading,
The start of chemo and his lovely hair he’d be shedding.
As he restlessly got ready for slumber that night,
His sweet heart mercifully gave up the fight.
Today well I’ll try not to feel too sad,
It’s hard but I’ll think of the good times we had,
I miss you buddy but just know that I’m glad,
For the times that we had and for being my Dad.
31/05/2018
So you march one day, with candles, in black
Held hands, silence stained, in human chain
To protest savage rapes and the gun attack
You make famous, the idiots and the insane
And when the crowd dissolved truth left bare
Mothers went home to hide still a wicked child
The predator hidden from a nation's sad fear
We make each silence time's forest for the wild
And when the crowd dissolves into the thin air
Of insecurity, the village shivering shrunk away
Before the ugly we wrapped the timid dry tear
In pretty paper of smiles, beseeching for the day
I will not march flattering while truth is defied
In a savage world, I yield innocence to none
Work truth, Justice long delayed is justice denied
Apologies too long, an imposter, has had its run
I want my country back again, very brave! I want
My children laughing, late hours still, in the streets
I want doors opened, like hearts, to hear the chant
Across fences, familiar love where each voice meets
I want the inept, corrupt, law agents purged anew
And this sudden material greed abate and poverty
Like a school teach us fresh what none before knew
How to survive, the culture founded from creativity.
I want to walk at nights fearless on crime free shores
And taste salt without the taint of blood on the winds
I want for love to pour out its treasure that reassures
Poverty is a tragedy only for the timid; here hope begins
O Jamaica, I want you, still happy as you were before
We had friendships deep, and everything no problem
Because we shared. Let us die this good way, endue
Against the beast! Let us rout his demonic strategem
I will not march one day black to placate indifferent men
How can I sleep in peace, victims are multiplied each night!
I cannot look at blood and wear black, to cover it again
The pain stinks here! Who shield rabid fiends from the light?
I will march yes, march on the grave of crime and graft
I will march yes, march with the coffin of monsters done
And I will wear black again when my skin in sun can laugh
I will wear black when is silent the bellow of the angry gun.
People who crave as much leaping as birds
Those who are angry and seem to be furious
And those with a vulture's appetite for wealth
Drawn ones react similarly to owls when lured
Prideful people gird themselves akin to eagles
Those invidious postures as a pack of hounds
Avoiding war is crucial to developing wealth!
"War" in three letters! Have men bled, even birds?
War hinders all the delights, making us furious!
Blast, blood, heavy weapons, and army hounds
Yet judicious people who lack peace draw lured!
Innocent troops fight innocent lives alike eagles.
After wandering through biased realms, lured
Faces after faces elsewhere, such as eagles
Heroes perish, and fools utmost worry is wealth
Heroes are in tears, while cowards are furious
Cowards lie, yet they weep alike devoted hounds
We slip deeper into the abyss of lunacy as birds.
The laughter and fun flowed fast and furious
for the sake of saving the reward and vast wealth
The initial dread triggers prejudice once lured
I sobbed when the moon whispered to the birds
And visualize us soaring on the backs of eagles
Swung their deadly jaws at us such as hounds.
Greedy cries reverberate from the circling hounds
Often carried out to ponder, indignant, and lured
False funds, in fact, sprout wings akin to eagles
Arbitrary knowledge was fed by graft and wealth
The truth is that people are as soulless as birds
Recognition heralds the start of the shift, not furious.
Let's soar to hone our craft with doves and eagles
And reasoning from true reflection among hounds
Share the honey of flowers and the songs of birds
Set life goals to be reliable and truthful, not furious
With God's blessings, all is feasible, including wealth
If inner sight leans, retain spotless life, even if lured.
Infinite bliss sows the seeds of peace and wealth
A fervent need for union with God's bliss, not furious
Incentives from the heavens rain down like birds.
Written: April 25, 2023
I didn't know
Raindrops
Could taste like
Bad medicine,
Novocaine
Shot
The wrong way
Numbing
Everything
Down to my
Fingertips-
In the
Inpatient
Care
They hide me
From
Myself,
Drugged up,
Those raindrops
Only heard,
Never touched
As if you can
Recognize
Pain from a
Distance
And learn to
Ignore the
Pitter patter of it,
Just background
Music
To a
Symphony
Of memories
I'm supposed to
Put on pause,
Or delete
Altogether-
But I would need
A
Skin graft
Of my
Wrists,
Hips,
Lips even,
To forget
All the reasons
Why I've
Ended up
Like this-
It's been two weeks
Since I got stuck
Between these
Same walls,
Checked up on
Every five minutes,
But
Nothing
Has changed.
She is still gone,
And no God
I could ever
Pray to
Could or
Would
Be able to
Fix that-
There is no
Band-aid
Big enough,
No shock
Strong enough
To bring her
Smile
Back to me-
All I have left is
Stolen time,
Framed and
Frozen,
A gravestone
And a faulty
Memory….
Maybe
It would be
Best
To just
Forget,
But even now
I look for you
When I hear
Your name,
Your seat goes
Cold
Next to me
Like an
Unspoken
Shrine
Only a fool
Would touch
And
Desecrate,
And when it is
Completely
Quiet,
At night,
When we used to
Skype
I still hear your
Laugh
Like an
Echo
Mocking me,
A melody
I will
Never
Hear again….
I remember
Exactly
How I found you
That morning,
The sirens
Coming alive
At 3 am
When
Everyone
Should've been gone
To bed,
And the
Smell
Of the sterile
Hospital
Just the same
As the one
I'm in-
Lately,
I've been
Recording
All the
Words
I should have
Said
Earlier
But didn't,
All the missed
Opportunities….
But I'm one day
Too late,
And today
I will be
Searching
In vain
For bits of you
At the bottom
Of bottles
And stop signs
Where the
Sidewalk
Ends
Until
Someone drags me
Away...
And stops me
From following you
Down into the
Gutter
With the rain.