Long Hemorrhage Poems
Long Hemorrhage Poems. Below are the most popular long Hemorrhage by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hemorrhage poems by poem length and keyword.
Learning when/how to close seat then...
flush... the toilet with good frisson!
(alternately titled long windedly
using lower case letters:
no matter tidily bowled over based
upon real events, perhaps subject devoid
of literary merit and/or taste
no embarrassment, cuz
I got nothing to cover
despite precious time going to waste).
Analogous to constipation,
constitutes full term pregnancy,
perhaps umpteenth or first,
which former offal bodily function I durst
mention, said subject doth stink,
yet... exercising bowel
applicative, constrictive, effective,
exhaustive, gesticulative, instinctive,
massive, oppressive, qualitative,
quantitative, significative and unitive
(beg to differ if ye think me perverse)
both scenarios prone to stress and strain,
difficulties can arise evacuating bowels
gluteus maximus muscles severely pursed,
radiating sharp stabbing sensations
behind junk in trunk quarters felt
until bulging temple veins ready to burst,
where piles of hemorrhoids
foul rectum tortured and accursed
necessitating Judas Priest well versed
to issue last rites while
appropriate official dull livers worst
news to missus, whose
inconsolable sympathies nursed,
nevertheless bit torrent of sorrow
honor alone time with grateful dead
subsequently finds medical personnel disbursed,
privately newly minted widow mourning
tears for fears immersed
bemoaning sudden permanent absence
gone fore e'er foremost farter figure first
instance obliterated, when posterior
uproariously (actually not funny)
inflicted hemorrhage emergency,
die hard ludicrous poet (me) experienced
all expense chauffeured ride in hearst
aforementioned purportedly roughly comparable,
courtesy hearsay, when
hypothetical woman with child,
(here, I metaphorically paraphrase)
as maven ready to take aim giving birth
(nine months after satiating
hankering call of the wild
buzzfeeding miracle worker whipped thirst,
and temporarily appeased
inherent maternal yearning
to beget offspring, then... off to races
sprinting at greased lightning speed
amazingly enough slightly protruded womb,
(among other fledgling
and/or practiced moms avid runners
all touted as winners relay race crossing
finish line simultaneously
comprising distance measuring more'n verst.
Upon our (yours truly and his missus) exchanging holy matrimony vows
Ultrasound allowed, enabled
and provided obstetrician to zoom,
image courtesy sonogram
showing fledgling fetus,
thus we pledged our troth after spouses' womb
(approximately halfway
between her pregnancy) did balloon
uterus, wherein conception
delineated birth of eldest daughter, and many a tomb
morrow later she resides in Oakland, California.
I attempt reasonable rhyme about...
oh happy yesteryear
when newly minted groom (me) wed bride
family in attendance cried
as Justice of Peace officiated as legal guide
extolling pregnancy of she who could not hide
figurative bun in the oven which matured inside
after two gametes fused and multiplied
countless times quickly birthing embryo
baby on the way nullified
application of premarital sex
and attendant use of contraceptives.
Clear out of the blue
thee wife asked me
opinion if wedded bliss between us
ha, how heretical to think otherwise
since romance long since flew
out the figurative window
impossible mission to feign significant other
analogous to brand new
alluring, beguiling, captivating... tchotchke.
All kibitizing aside, a requited love with zeal
I attest invisible spokes support unseen wheel
when turning sparking genuine care and concern
act as buffer against emotional hemorrhage
and received good housekeeping approval seal
more applicable to most recent
elapsed wedding day anniversaries
ex post facto after both daughters flew the coop
finding me reeling with empty nest syndrome,
whenever yours truly reviews mental newsreel,
now absence of offspring, akin
to psychological wound I did heal
no longer mourning natural course
of begetting progeny more readily
accepting their necessary autonomy doth appeal.
Though marriage devoid of physical intimacy wife
get along swimmingly, we exhibit less strife
than days of yore effulgence promulgated
to all readers unbeknownst to human life
form characterized by bloke,
whose words appeared across screen
exemplifying, embodying, and edifying
regarding beloved simian counterpart
bandying playfully sometimes
drubbing and drumming my body
while she (commandeering
certain orifices of her body) emulates sounds of fife.
Mister money bags no more
Ah..., how I idolize the days of yore
before June twentieth, and twenty first
two thousand twenty three
when utter senselessness wore,
a trail of woe brutally
ravaging and savaging mine psyche,
yours truly attests gullibility tore
and rent asunder
leaving cumulative finances
decimated, pulverized, and frankly zapped
rendering me poor
as a Unitarian church mouse named Kishore
dirty deed done dirt cheap extempore
courtesy yours oblivious to "red flags."
I still bitterly lament how
the computer/scammer
who called himself "Harvey Specter"
exhibited exceptional faux zeal
and blame myself,
whereby figurative cog and wheel
within sixty plus shades
housing mine gray matter
did not properly turn
ordinarily (when perspicacity,
sensitivity, and acuity optimally function)
setting off an ear splitting squeal
loud enough to rouse
a sleeping Leviathan
when upon awakening would bellow
now cue the giant
from Jack and the beanstalk
Fee-fi-fo-fum!
I smell the blood
of an Englishman:
Be he alive, or be he dead,
I'll grind his bones to make my bread.
Nevertheless significant loss
viz medium of exchange
(enriching the coffers of another -
particularly him that scoundrel
née fraudster foisting financial fiasco
frazzling father most definitely nonideal
modus operandi I envisioned,
hence the gofundme page
(ofttimes sited with
gentility, honesty, integrity...
when crafting previous poems),
yet passage of time did not heal
severe financial hemorrhage,
keeping checking and savings accounts
analogously under critical care
(think intensive care),
whereby heroic measures undertaken
wads of cold cash linkedin
to many intravenous tubes
but ideally capitol offense
aired once again toward remuneration
imposed upon ganef
who bled me dry
courtesy convincingly, glibly, liberally...
sweet talking his way,
and I swallowed hook, line and sinker
(fabrication that Citizens bank employees
scheming to siphon investments)
yielded zilch (the big goose egg),
absolute zero positive result,
i.e. even partial remittance of lost monies,
when yours truly did make an appeal.
Caught up in the shadowy,
Silhouettes dancing, trembling
Like wings in breathless
Whispers, erasing all the fearless
Memories, blending worry
With confusion, desperation
Despair and sin’s onslaught stirring
Anxiety, stalking the heart like
Burdens and struggles, troubling
Even the light that remains,
Where history portrays the limits
Restricting prayers, praise, portions
Fragments of the heart’s faith,
Hope lifted to the skies who hemorrhage
Like stardust doubts falling, shadowy,
Reflecting the glistening promises
Destiny calling like the mystery
Anonymous glimmering in the heavens,
Wiping away the way it seems,
Replacing the moments with memories,
Hurrying life with a sense of relief
Knowing that this is the grace,
Bringing awake the gentling faith
Darkness surrounds my spirit
Bringing with it the sound of fear,
The desperation and dread, the doubt
Dooming my spirit to listening
Beneath the hope, silence
Explaining away the music, the dream
The beautiful that pleads with me
Believe, believe, believe – nothing
Lives there in the shadowy suspicions,
The reservations and misgivings
Are only memories who know that
When I believe -there is victory
The shadows become moments
Pleasant flashes of feeling,
Enthusiastic and blessing me
So I believe and in the believing
Discover my hearts reason for being,
My soul’s reason for achieving,
My life’s reason for bringing the feelings
The beautiful, the blessings –
Into the light, where I can see
There is more splendor in my heart
When I let the shadowy places melt away
Delighting in the presence, the love
Of One who created me to always pray
For the chance to know, to believe
With a heart that never doubts or despairs,
A soul that imagines only the goodness
Found in the presence of His grace…
With faith, the shadowy sadness
Fell away and I know what it is to say –
Love never fades, never fails – never
Flees – it is forever, like the King of Kings!
Writing Challenge - 'S' Words, Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Word: 2.shadowy
April 8, 2023
Daddy's specter plectrums mercilessly
Fraying my nerves raw
with oxidized guitar strings.
my thoughts relentlessly hemorrhage
onto clay vinyl grooves
s p i n n i n g
endless nights
of
suffocation.
a midnight jazz wail
lacerates
the void of your absence.
notes gnaw through bone marrow
ravenous maggots
in the corpse
of our love.
Chords violently crash
splintering my fractured vertebrae
a car wreck
in slow motion.
plucking
the frayed synapses
of my misfiring
modal limbic brain.
feel the searing electric distortion
static fuzz of madness
surge through
morrow's marrow
my moanin'
a primal scream
at the Eve of Destruction
trapped in a skipping groove
of creation
shattering guitars
and blasting kneecaps
in an empty cathedral
of resounding sound
Our touch
a violent crescendo
of needles and poisoned honey
pain swollen sweet
as a mother's milk
laced with a junkie's fix
on a stillborn birthday morn
each note
a razor-sharp reflection
etched in stretch-marked
scar tissue
of the agony that throbs
within this moog menagerie
of fractured femininity
set
Between the sets
of our shattered chords
a single note lingers- soft
almost tender-
like a child's last breath
before the
final
f i n a l e
Silence crawls
a venomous asp
a deafening absence
louder than stacked amps
of patriarchy
reverberating in the hollow spaces
between drumming heartbeats
where your persecuting promises
used to nest and breed
I am the discarded B-side
of the one-hit wonder
rising from dumpster-filled
lungs of domesticity
reborn
in the Electric Avenue
of my own making
singing
Billie's bruises
Muddy's floods and
Johnson's hellhounds
to the ghosts
of futures stillborn
in this Rhapsody
of beautiful
destruction
Moon-faced and sickle-smiled
I conduct this orchestrated
Savage band of ruin
my voiceless voice
a lightning rod
splitting the sky
of expectations
as I agonizingly birth myself anew
in the RCA Victor Rhapsody of Blue
of Beautiful
reconstruction
P e r h a p s…
a new refrain
Utter brainless nincompoop
in this poem heretofore addressing
I wanna be forever free
and clear from mortal anguish,
and need more than a blessing -
I need a miracle worker after confessing
behavior causing depressing
wretched state of mind
self incriminating admission expressing
emptying out checking
and savings accounts.
Gross negligence fomented morass
of monetary hemorrhage,
thus yours truly speculating
imagining peaceful easy feeling
after quaffing hemlock beverage
(considerably less expensive
than trained masseuse
administering head to toe effleurage)
the former painless demise
popularized courtesy Socrates
whereby Athenian democracy
charged said philosopher
with impiety and corrupting
the youth of Athens
unlike him I feel mental,
physical, and spiritual states
devastated, jackknifed, and shattered
into a million little pieces,
hence appealing notion shucking off
western civilization equipage,
and concomitant linkedin
corporeal defrauded earthling
and author of these words.
The importance of money
or lack thereof smarts,
especially when series
of unfortunate events
even Lemony Snicket,
would be flabbergasted
at such blatant and flagrant stupidity
exhibited courtesy yours truly.
Herr dummkopf did not function
with one iota of his brain
case in point entire
financial cushion he did drain
anonymous, barbarous, egregious,
ferocious, iniquitous jerks
re: cyber crooks enriched their coffers
in previous poems I did explain
how yours truly got sucker punched
to surrender substantial capital
subsequently severe depression
washes over me like floodplain
after a major hurricane
thus another shout out,
though I feel quite insane
to drum up buffer (in) zone
excedrin also sought
to bring temporary relief
far fetched likelihood in dough main
despite moon shot
to witness philanthropic boost,
I keep praying Meg Found
will pull thru and ordain
(fiasco from fraudster frazzles father)
one ordinarily perspicacious primate
who financially doth strain.
Emotions of incompatible severance ebb my spirits
Taking me into a world that no one has ever been
Upon nights of deplorable torment I see the unseen
Darkness wills me over and tears my heart away
As I feel the hot, sticky tears crawl down my face
Pressed against the scorching window I gaze into high heavens
Pain dispersing through and avalanching my tearful eyes
There’s a supernatural pressure pervading my soul
Nothing makes sense anymore…my poetry is dying!
The world in which I find myself is constantly fighting
With emotions unchangeable…horrible…plighting
I would kill them all to feel the one I shall never have
I would kill myself to make the oceans part again
Till then, let the pieces of me float gently in red waters
Flowing seams taking me through; eels eerily watching
Making me covet for action, to feel each satisfaction
I want the anything, impossible to grasp
My hands are hooves, I can barely hold you
I can’t get out of this world; can’t escape the blue
Zigzagged rhyming, bad timing…hating me
Just cutting me more and festering harboring the pain
The white blood cells are against me, blooming insanity
And like a dump the junk increases and sinks into holes
Sticky soil of dead corpses lifting the infection killing me
Not enough; I’m still here…black, bloodied flakes
I can’t hold on…my gory hooves are splintering in the coagulation
My mind's eye is murdering my soul…aching…raping
My head is still pressed against the window
My mood eyes are set on the sun’s hemorrhage
Piano fingers pressed on the crackling glass
We’re shattering in this world of mine…I’m dying!
What a world, what a world
I’m plunging down into the sea as the snake snout finds me
The eels welcome me as I sink into their homes
Snap! Snap! Silent snapping of the flesh! Hear it?
Lost in the brackish wetness of eternal sleep
Not even aware they are eating me…everything—
Save my heart; it’s still there…can you see?
It has fallen even deeper, settling on the bitter bottom seafloor
What a world, thumps the heart
See what my world did to me
Nothing important happened today,
according to an omission
in the local newspaper Metro page
The death of my best friend ... my husband,
this sad story of injustice was missing
Such a horrible ghetto tragedy
wasn’t worth one drop of black ink
A bucket of widow tears,
and a heavy casket of stolen years
ain’t much to write about
Their light compassion darkly color my thoughts
The coroner said specifically more,
though the jargon was impersonal and technical:
Six bullets ... cranial hemorrhage,
two collapsed lungs ... four broken ribs
And a beautiful face unrecognizable
from a brutal beating
My loving spouse was last seen getting stopped
by two police squad cars
Handcuffed and whisked away,
my beloved took a cold visit to the morgue
later that day
Nothing out of the ordinary happened
is what the police arrest report said:
Belligerent attitude ... refused to eat his food,
got violent when questioned ... didn’t follow any of the rules
The dry report clinically concluded:
Suspect resisted in the interrogation room,
and reached for an officer’s weapon
Fear for a lawman’s life
obviously was priority number one
Deadly force was justified, so they say
But, what about the beatings before the discharge of the gun?
Oh, all of the accused officers
got a medal pinned on their professional life
The judge tossed the lawsuit out ... said it was simply
the vengeful rantings of a grief-stricken wife
My meek, mild-mannered man
was slanderously portrayed
as a drug addict who went berserk
Truth be told with a graffiti spray can;
pure honesty sackcloth arrayed,
he died going on his way to work
Nothing too important happened today,
just another ghetto funeral parade
Nothing that important happened today;
truth got covered up and buried,
as the arbiters of justice looked the other way
Nothing too important happened today,
only black shrouded pain on public display
Mental distress note to self:
My personal tragedy occurred on a Wednesday
Another day, another ghostly glitch
The catholic church stained glass
shouldn’t be as grey as it was today.
More and more the molding frays
I can hear the coffins softy coughing
There are more and more mourning days
Whether or not there was better days,
“Back when there was no such a glitch”
there were still plagues, there was still coughing,
common enough, blood from esophagus glass
Our flesh still frays, it decays over time,
especially today.
I forgot to take my Lamictal today,
It is my second time forgetting, third day
without taking it. A ball of yarn beginning to fray,
my brain begins to glare and glitch.
Is there a hemorrhage born of broken glass?
Maybe I inhaled it in mass? I did a lot of coughing.
The psalms usually calming, all I heard was coughing
this morning. Something seems off today…
I stared at my reflection for too long, the looking glass
has sassed me back for many mourning days.
It’s not a glitch,
the flesh is flayed, the noose is frayed.
Always unsuccessful, its stressful, hair is frayed
into my hands. The same hands that caught me coughing
blood in the hospital in Philadelphia. It can’t be a glitch,
this has always been my reality, suffering is my software today.
It's a countdown, it's a matter of days
Until I am immortalized in pink and yellow glass.
It will say, “Here lies the Saint of Smoking Glass”,
I have tried to recover, but my brain stem was frayed,
and it snapped under pressure. No more mourning days!
No more pre funeral cigarettes! Interrupting eulogies
coughing like it was some sort of
awkward option! It’s not your time today!
You will feel it when you can feel the glitch.
Eye twitch, there's the glitch! I smoked too much glass…
It’s my last day today and I lived partially flayed
I can finally stop coughing.
I’ll see you on my mourning day.
I
She died three days ago, the lady in
the apartment at the end of the corridor.
She was eighty-three. The medics rolled
her out in a shiny black body bag,
a not uncommon sight in this housing
complex for the elderly.
They found her on the kitchen floor,
to one side of a chair. She didn’t even
have time to finish her cup of tea.
A cerebral hemorrhage, the obit read.
Instant death, probably, and never felt
the tea cup slipping from her fingers,
never felt herself falling, never felt
her head hitting the floor or the sound
of her tea cup or glasses breaking into pieces.
II
Never idle, she had the work ethic
of an ant, waitressing at three different
restaurants in town, driving her old car
with its noisy muffler every day to work.
Feisty, loud, opinionated, her voice
was raspy, grating on the ear.
A nonstop complainer, she spoke her mind
on subjects most women her age
would never, while we kept our distance.
Her most outstanding nonverbal feature
was her hair, always made up, always piled
on her head like dollopes of cumulus clouds
with potential for thunder and lightning.
III
Now she was dead, a corpse, a body in decay.
No more would she serve customers or wipe tables.
No more would the corridors carry her loud voice.
There is nothing more useless than death –
except, perhaps, to give light to an empty
space or an apartment to another occupant.
A resident made a rather odd comment
in saying that, though she had died three days
ago, she could not have been dead for that
length of time, for death is a condition
without time, eternity is instantaneous,
he said dryly – if she had had even half
a second to remember.