Long Hells Poems
Long Hells Poems. Below are the most popular long Hells by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hells poems by poem length and keyword.
Drag along the prophet?
Oracle, break the grip.
Tools of iron and Tophet!
Let the heavens rip!
Flippered horrors on the crawl?
Subterranean tour.
High hells? Hand in overhaul.
Liquid has its lure.
Dour the towers in late spring?
Rim of crater wide.
Drench the world, O undying!
Ocean, loose thy tide!
Grim the gambrel gangrel?
Volcano, downward run.
Belladonna, bell and spell!
Young and yellow dun.
Coals a-glow, infernal life?
Dance upon my knife!
Demon-sultan, play thy fife.
Rampant round and rife...
Strife, goals. Remotest controls?
Lost as ancient souls.
Broken, are ye, golden bowls?
Doldrums, dole and tolls.
Holes producing matter?
Apogee, twist with pain...
Night upon the latter?
Floodwater, course from main...
Unlike dogs
we fall apart inn chunks of darkness.
Unlike the birds
our songs are manufactured and processed.
Like lions our hearts are always hungry.
It's the black moments that add up and multiply,
light is our shade when moments go blind.
Unlike the crawling insects
our eyes reflect and do not really see.
We are the sly doves,
and yet
for all our lost powers,
our misconceptions and inanities
we are far above all the conceivable heavens
lower than all imaginary hells.
We are mankind - the 'kind' is significant
for nothing in the whole universe
comes close to that God
we keep silent and hidden.
Being in one place too long,
being in one form to long,
never being able to tolerate a blank page,
or empty air,
for fear of what someone else
will put in it if you don't
Wanting to feel safe, surrounded by enemies
who call themselves friends
A white knight dreamer in purgatory
edged on an endless field of victims
with hands outstretched.
A stereotypical Madonna
white in a field of gray
A wick less, often witless, foil
of coils of gray matter around things
which matter not at all.
Making acquaintances,
cloaking them in the garb of friendship
even while they toss sticks
on the pyres of the all life.
For what after all is a friend...
Who after all can truly know
as each of us confront and are confronted
by our own hells
and hope without much hope
for the outstretched hand to be ungloved
and touch the skin of our lives.
White Lace
Mother died today.
They called me.
I thought they did not have, my number.
They never called before, now.
Why bother to call now?
What can be said about sad things,
that have been talked about too much
by too many people for too long.
There are only hard feelings...
finally, let go by time
and the help of the Lord.
I pray that whatever happens,
my mother goes to heaven.
I don't want her to ever suffer, any pain.
I want her to know peace.
I know peace.
I am loved.
The Lord told me so.
He kept telling me, again and again,
until I could no longer deny
the truth of Him.
In that... moment... I found forgiving,
far more joyous than reliving the hells
of yesterday, forever.
Sleep mother.
Wake up another day, and say,
that you loved me, and are sorry.
Wake up and say, you love me still.
The lace on the curtain for the window,
has rotted through because of the bright... harsh sun.
However, the view of the outside,
that of the garden
has been enhanced
by its absence.
In the world of glitz and glam
Allured she was to it's shine
Seeing dollar signs and adventure
To become a different kind
She knew the door she was going through
For in media spread it tells
To ignore it's hidden obstacles
And it's abyss of darkened hells
The photographers leer surely professional
Capturing an innocent in her pose
Cogs turning in his background
As his willingness in him grows
A click, the shutter, then charm
As he instructs her every move
Closer he becomes to the intended
His needle to be in her groove
As she lies there spent and used
Like so many in past years before
Distraught, fading dollar signs
Saying goodbye from the glitz glam floor
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life-15.php
Why? must I do these wrongs;
This is my Soul crying out to God
Well, this sin is chosen
But my actions frozen;
Hells to hot and eternity to long
I choose righteousness
I shall not be defiance
God/Christ is my final...
He's my beginning and my end
My waterfall in a drought;
My doorway when there's no way out;
There's no such thing
As a little sin
All have found glory just let Him in
the Savior in, this is my wrong
I've stop turned myself around;
Repented, Christ is my new song;
I am free, indeed, Christ is my new song;
Changed my choices used to do these wrongs;
Found myself my soul crying out to God
Well, this sin is chosen
But my actions frozen;
Hells is hot eternity to long
I choose righteousness
I shall not be defiance
God/Christ is my final...
He's my beginning and my end
My waterfall in a drought;
My doorway when there's no way out;
the Savior in, this is my wrong
I've stop turned myself around;
Repented, Christ is my new song;
I am free, indeed, Christ is my new song;
Repented, Christ is my new song;
I am free, indeed, Christ is my new song;
08/4/06
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.©2006
Not For Contest
Note-Again Connie reads the contest rules after she writes the poem,
missing the fact that the poem should have ten lines or less. I told you
I'm walking on eggshells.
Why do all the chickens lay their eggs on my path
They are filthy and smelly and can use a bath
There's poop and stench pulling on my rope
Where are all the hungry foxes to give me hope
Please take them away from me on a jet plane
I can't take this anymore, I'm going insane
Fly them off to the sun so they'll burn to a toast
Their presence has turned me pale like a ghost
Why couldn't I have been the one to fly the coop
Instead of slumping with the white-sheeted group
Every day I see that family and six baby chicks
That pulls my nerves while I watch them get their kicks
These chickens should trip to the sun for all I care
I'll even pack a lunch for them to see them flare
Every day I hear buck-buck-buck while I walk on eggshells
My life needs to be unfeathered because I'm living in hells
December 68 had no Christmas
It was held in early May of 69
They waited for their son who was a soldier
To finally make it home from hells front line
His mother wondered what exactly went wrong
But his dad knew cause he could see it in his eyes
His heart was home but his mind was still off somewhere
Replaying every minute of the fight
His father felt the same way when he came home
It was not too long ago in 45
He said son I know the pain that you're feeling
Please know you're not alone in this fight
A heroes heart will always be scarred
And with honor you defended all you've known
The only white flag a soldier ever carries
Is the one when the good Lord, finally calls him home
The hardest battle that we will ever face
Is finding forgiveness for the things we've done
For every fallen man that's died for his country
Another lucky one lives on, and he must overcome
So cry on my shoulder if you need to
Cause that never makes you less of a man
Remember all those who fought and died beside you
Yes some gave their life, but I pray you might, come to understand
That a heroes heart will always be scarred
And with honor you defended all you've known
The only white flag a soldier ever carries
Is the one when the good Lord, finally calls him home
I'm not ready to carry that white flag
Son welcome home
The crumbling of humanity is developing.
Burglary, deception, and hubris are ubiquitous.
Money is being earned by cheating.
These areas are known to be perilous.
The vast majority of the cash is made in the wild.
It's time to settle in the matured and infirm.
Ravenous experts age their vigor after a while.
Laborers are escaping devout neediness squirm.
Frantic individuals have weakened.
Fellowship has no kin, just sex bind unify.
Keeping guardians is an idea antiquated.
Notwithstanding savagery, humankind decay.
The mutilation and murder of living persons,
Assaulting, beating captives till they die or be deaf.
They induce their casualties lives blackens.
The cruelest rulers of the hells they bereft.
Psyche attacking compassion and adoring.
Time talks just nibble and severity.
Wild evil presences masked as a sacred being.
Blamelessness in the midst of a corrupt divinity.
Virtue blurs to a deadly chase in the wind.
No one realizes who prowls crimson vine.
Is this acculturated? a pooled grind.
Alert, my friends, inquire into thine.
Written: September 9, 2021
This or That, Vol 7 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
We are all living life in a darker shade of blue.
Depressing ourselves, vacillating on aspirations
and other youthful ideas of jubilation
that we were never able to see through.
We sit in the shadows wailing about our pasts.
Wasting time
thinking about failed chances.
Lost romances.
And other "Memory lane" garbage
never meant to last.
We need to stop living in these old lamentations
giving us nothing but heartache and frustration.
We need to stop giving into Satan's self-pitying plans.
Get ourselves up and take a stand.
Remembering that Jesus Christ is our Lord, the Great Son of Man.
Our God came to save us; He came to crash our sins to their cores.
So that we would not have to obsess about our yesterdays anymore.
Because, we know full well.
That Jesus, our Lamb,
can save us from these self-made hells.
So now is the time
to be released.
By Jesus Christ,
our Mighty God
and Prince of Peace.
Freed from these
darker shades of blue.
Released into a life
that He makes brand new.