Long Haunt Poems

Long Haunt Poems. Below are the most popular long Haunt by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Haunt poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Indian Summer

Heat, like fog, engulfs the environment.
Flora and fauna burn in the sunbeams.
Clamminess-filled vapor goes virulent.
Mirages glimmer like unending streams.

Tempests brimming with dust and debris blow.
Unquenchably thirsty, the parched lands crack.
With abstract sky paintings, dry evenings glow.
Thunder peals, on and off, like an earthquake.

Days taunt. Nights haunt. We burn in the furnace.
Sleeplessness and nightmares pervade our nights.
Flies and reptiles perform a crude circus.
Heat climbs the atmosphere's immodest heights.

With the nomadic breeze, black clouds elope.
Timely drizzles, yet, try to bring some hope.
Form: Sonnet


Musings of a Victim

Let's play a game, shall we?
It's a fun little number I like to call
"Do I miss you because I love you,
or because you're my brain's scar tissue?"

Let's review the facts, shall we?
You're a spoiled NEET who took pleasure from my pain
From making me bend over backwards
And watching my free will vanish

Like a parasite, you latch on to everyone
Begging for gifts and food like a child
Passive-aggressively plotting when you don't get your way
And everyone gives in to get you to shut up

By all accounts, you're a horrible person
So tell me why, tell me why
Why do you still haunt my dreams at night?
Why does the thought of losing you still hurt me so?

You're like heroin
Because man, doing lines of you through the night
Was the greatest high when the trip was fine
And the comedown was so fierce

So here I lay, sweating yet freezing
Dope sick and hungover after the greatest afterparty
Craving another hit to feel the ceiling again
Gently gnawing on my twelfth step chip

But you weren't always that way, you know
The love we shared was once pure
And each day was a blessing that I'd give so much to return to
And I think that's the you that I miss

But hey, that person died two years ago
You wore her skin so well that I didn't realize
That I still had a body to bury
Before you skinned it and wore it

More often than not, it's the pure memories I recall
When I'm clutching my phone with my thumb above the send key
And another withdrawal pang hits my temple
And jolts my thumb to the clear key

So where are you now?
I can't imagine I'm in a much better place right now
Eating my fourth cup of cup noodles tonight
Poring over a broth stained essay

It's comforting to share a pitiful existence with you
Because in a weird way, I feel more connected with you than ever
Sharing a loving, tender kiss across time and space
As we both scoop the last shrimp from the bottom of the cup

But each cup leads me closer to my dream
As you stagnate at home
Self-actualization is a difficult concept to measure
But your NEET dream dies with the last of your savings

The sun rises and the glare from the screen hits my eyes
Another frosty December morning
Through the sight of the rising sun and the scars you left behind
For now at least, you and I are forever intertwined.
© Derek Chos  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Ghosts, This World's Invisible Hosts

Life, it is said, does evolve after our demise
Life can beget Heaven as its prize
Or Hell as its torment
Or even a fall back to Earth, to its own detriment

Life is full of surprises
See when one does think that darkness would win
One does see that the sun over a new day does rise
Only to make sure one does end up being more wise

Pray, life does be mystery,
It is made up of more than one accessory
Like ghosts
Ghosts, this world's invisible hosts!

Why, I do battle with ghosts everyday
Ghosts from my past
Ghosts who, to me, they do say
Pray, to us and to our memories you should cling on fast

For with us, someday, you shall be back
With us, yes, in the celestial realms and then, only then
We shall give you your heart back
For we do have it kept closed in our safe

Why, ghosts of such kind scare me not
Ghosts of such kind do be with the one who does guide us in our fate
Ghosts who are not really ghosts
But beings of light, muses of poetry, muses of delight

Why, I do come from a land which I have forgotten not
A land ruled by the One Great Being
My heart does beat only for Him
My heart does bear this life, only for Him

While this world does be temporary and transient
The other one does provide youth and life in permanent
So I shall not bother about life here
Rather, I shall make sure that to my ghosts, or my muses, I do adhere

Muses of love, muses of words, muses bringing sooth to the soul
Muses who do give me some joy in this world
Muses who scare me not
Muses who do make of me a poet

Among them does be the one I yearn for
My lover, my ruler, the One the whole world does adore
Yes, ghosts do call out to me from afar
Pray, forget not that you do belong not in this realm, they do say

Why, ghosts shall haunt me as long as I do live
For I have not an ounce of faith for this world
Of course, only to my duty shall I cater
Yes, of course, only as long as I shall be here!

Life does evolve after our demise
Pray, for the dead shed not any tears
Rather, remember that you shall be with them
For a new journey, or to catch up on some long lost wasted time!
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Gymnopedie

Paintings
         - Impression: Sunrise by Claude Monet (1840-1926)
         - Deer in Stream by Philip Goodwin (1881-1935)

 
Red sun climbs an impressionist sea
   climb

Boats and waves dance a gymnopédie
   time       stands       still

Doe and her fawn in a dawn reverie
   they drink from a stream in their tranquility

They taunt me
   whispers and shadows and vague silhouettes
      still haunt me

 
Vainly grasping for words to explain
   why?

Empty questions shed tears in the rain -
   I       don't       know

Was there a season of darkness we missed?
   A wave of emotion we somehow dismissed?

Au revoir, dawn
   wondering how we will make it through
      with our fawn gone?
 

//Dedicated to my Uncle Don and Aunt Betty whose son Andy took his own life at age 19
Lyrics may be sung to Gymnopédie #1 by Erik Satie

Gymnopédie - a dance of ancient Sparta

Impressionism - a movement of the late 19th century in both art and music with which Claude Monet (art) and Erik Satie (music) are most often affiliated//

Written 5 Aug 2022
© John Watt  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric

Premium Member Innocence Cries

For yes, I have seen it with my own eyes, I have seen it.

They call it by a name, but from the name you'll never comprehend it

Her eyes will never leave mine, her face will haunt me all my life, I guarantee it

Her scream, so painfull, the sound of a soul cry

Rubble and mud and rain and cold

Yes, you can see that I'm alive, but inside now I'm dying

For she was there, right in my sight

A knife she held so tightly by her side

I shouted for her to release the knife

She ran at me screaming

I squeezed the trigger, she fell to her knees

The knife, she dropped beside her bleeding

As I approached she screamed at me a name 

Then said to dig, to dig in the rubble

To dig, she dug with the knife, her nails and fingers broken.

I turned to see the rubble to realise

As I looked back into her eyes

Baby, daughter were her last words alive

So, yes I know where war resides, and I know I'll never find her

A baby killed by war, a mother killed by sacrifice

A baby alone and lost on the other side

So, give me back that bloody knife

And I'll and go and find her baby if I have to dig like her with a bloody knife, if I have to dig to find her for the rest of my life.


Premium Member Divine Limerence

To intrigue a ghost enough to haunt you? 
My dear that is divine limerence. 

I just want to crawl inside  
and stay blissful 
eating grapes under the table 
as I hide. 

In my mind? They transmute into wine.

Bittersweet longing 
and bleached breath
can no longer remain buried
between blush and bloom.

In my mind? They transmute into wine.

I promise to blush into grey hues 
and forever transform as I blossom.

Am I within my rights to move slow 
feed you by hand like a saint?
Indulge the intensity of levitated frolic?
Can I no longer remain buried?

My dear that is divine limerence,
to intrigue a ghost enough to haunt you.

Premium Member Looking back

Being stuck in the past
Life passes so fast
Days go by
Seems to fly
Sometimes I wonder where the days all went
Was it time well spent
When I am looking back
The memories seem to attack
When did this day become night
Will time make things right
Staying in the fight
Living one day at a time
Looking for the right rhyme
With myself  I am sometimes at peace ,  then times I am at bitter war
Do I deserve more
Lost all
What a fall
I make myself crazy wondering why
To love is to cry
Afraid to give my heart
Afraid to make any kind of new start
A hermit living wild
I am still that child
Somewhere in my mind
I never left him behind
I find
I stand apart 
Face any thing I fear
Except a tear
Is love real
If a heart you can steal
I know a heart can break
That is the chance you take
Then find out maybe love is fake
Hearts never heal
But continue to feel
Still
I want nothing, yet I want it all
A chance to stand tall
Afraid to try
Sitting here wondering why
A night
... so bright...
Lost in the moonlight
Yesterday comes back to haunt
My heartbeat does taunt 
Telling me I am still here
Never fear
Who would ever wish to hold me dear
Night is now day
But even that will never stay
Today
Tomorrow
Some days I find my land of no sorrow
Give or take
It is the choices I make
I would rather stay free
No one else I would rather see
Just my dog and I 
Living under the sky
Watching time go by
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member In the Backstreets of My Mind

In the back streets of my mind, I sail 
in a sea of daydreams, my imagination 
is sometimes free to run helter-skelter.
Thoughts of tomorrow haunt me.

It can be tough to navigate through
this head that thinks for me. There are 
often traffic jams in the highway;
the railroad tracks visibly rusty

The footpath gets dark some days
so I walk it with a flashlight. But the days 
are mostly sunny and bright. Memories
always bloom like flowers in spring. 

They also swirl like a tornado 
every now and then. When I rise 
at dawn, a thought runs through 
the backstreet of my mind...

"What's for breakfast?"


Submitted for...
Strand Select F,Any Form ,Any Theme Poetry Contest 
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date: 02/06/2020

Date written: 09/26/2019

Pour A Glass

I’m haunted by the ghost of you
It’s true maybe I’ve had a few
But what am I supposed to do
When my heart is broken into two

I’m chasing a ghost through a bottle of blue
Trying to remember who I was without you
But the more that I try to forget your face
The more I’m attuned to this empty space 

The silence is loud, the shadows are deep 
I can’t escape you, not even in my sleep
I’m tracing the outline of where you once stood 
I’d erase the memory of you right now if I could 

I’m wearing your silence like Yves Saint Laurent 
My head echoes memories only you seem to haunt 
I’ll pour one more glass for the ghost in the room
And let the scent of your absence become my perfume.
Form: Rhyme

A Father's Words to the Children, Grandchildren he Loves

My children this is dad, whenever you are sad,
Talk to God, he will listen to you.
Think of something to say, to Him everyday.
At this age, that's what I try to do.
I can say this is true, He keeps his word to me and you,
Throughout my life he always did.
He spoke to my mind, every night at bedtime,
When I was a little kid.
You won't have a clue, when He's speaking to you,
His who, what, why, where, and when's.
When you spend so little time with Him on your mind,
But all day you'll it's your phone and your friends.
The One who took clay, to make humans one day,
Then gave us His lifegiving air.
But we choose to repay, by watching TV everyday,
To our Creator, we hardly even care.
The older you get, each day you will regret,
That you didn't give Him much of a try.
That question will haunt you, again and again,
As you lay awaiting to die.
I use to serve trays at the Bay Pines VA,
For some patients I was the last person they'd see.
They had regrets for the God whom they neglect 
Saying, I hope he has forgiven me.
Family is important, so are people and friends.
You might not see God now.
But you will when your life ends.
Love Dad...
Form: Rhyme

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