Long Icing Poems
Long Icing Poems. Below are the most popular long Icing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Icing poems by poem length and keyword.
Where's this years "Turkey_Pardon"?
Pardon me, where's the pardon on the Family?
Was the CCP funding too lucrative, Universities?
Any press briefing, explanations,
the WEF financial mechanisms
too carotid in artery.
I guess hunting season is still on,
"Runningman" repeats.
still a filler for
Commercial Broadcasting Disservice,
regularly scheduled reprogramming, propagandizing.
Meanwhile we are in Psalms 83 and Ezekial 38,
looming. .. 3 8 3 8 3 3..
I wonder what it means?
Too bad for that one potential lime-lighted Turkey.
Judgment is coming too Humanity.
Makes one seem crazy to report these days.
In perpetuity. One thing after another
and all against the People. For the leaders, a totally separate reality.
Why are they not arrested and questioned
by the People?
Is it because they polarized us against each other,
so that they are not the objects of scrutiny.
Maybe they will throw us a bone or a stick next,
to keep us occupied.
The question is, would it be laced with Fentanyl
or biologicals from an unsecured Chinese Lab here in America?
Or will it be one of those costly imports
maybe shipped from our Southern crosswalk.
Hey at least this year there is no ban on Church, gatherings,
as our leaders again gather mask free
with saline booster shots instead of what
is mandated for you and me.
Knowing that the vaccine was untested
(for Public transparency),
and Pfizer the only ones given immunity.
For aiding crimes against humanity, no apologies.
[Yeah, I can remember students dropping dead
on the sports field happening all the time
growing up (Saturday morning football death before
cartoons was a regular thing).
Who knew also that veins
are supposed to have long black graphene
induced clots, and young people to
die of heart attack and stroke at age 13.
Although, on a happier note,
2024 is a fresh year, for slavery.
It's Springtime eclipse a warning of disasters incoming,
vote casting,
ill Confederacy, Rhinoplasty, !CONSPIRACY!
reciting an x across the Country with 2017's.
Cancelling freedoms, Christians
and the World as we knew it to be.
Planet X mirrored,
icing, a crystal clear reveal i
n chaos waxing a seal of unmasking
our present real judgment, reality.
Extremely sorrowful
Yelled at the top of my lungs no doubt
Anger just spilled out…I don’t wanna pout
I know it’s so awful
Chillax…you’re making things too complicated for me
Breaking by the shining seams
I’m mending my broken dreams
I am not fooled by your selfish ways
I was going through one of those days
Flustered to the core
You don’t love me anymore
What are you waiting for?
Another year with me?
What more?
You’re the one I adore
I crash down from the adrenalin rush
Don’t worry, babe, just hush
Please forgive me for all that I’ve done
I want to be gone…before the dawn…
Surrounded by lies
And your goodbyes
Shadows fill my day
And your dismay
Adds to the icing
You’re so enticing
Madness is like sores in the mouth
You cling on to me like a moth
To the light
Tonight
I am soaring like an eagle in the sky
I want to die young and I don’t know why
Ending me is the beginning to mere destruction
Put up the music and the beat…
My heart, soul and mind’s under construction
Pound to the rhythm of my heart…
Feel the heat of my chest against your own
I’m this lonely man, all alone and on my own…
It’s shown when I speak on the phone…
Creativity led me astray
Creativity led me astray
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
I lost it
I lost it
I’m insane
Because I’m in pain
Seeing your sorrowful rain
I’m infuriated with me, myself and I
Sometimes, I just wanna die…
Young and bold…
Foolish and cold…
I’m drained out without a sound
Left alone on the bitter ground
Misery leaves me breathless
I’m feeling distress in excess
Bring me to your hell
And I’ll bring you to my heaven
Exit me…
Entering you…
Free me…
I’m feeling blue…
Do what is fitting to my soul…
Anxiety is banging at my skull
Alone, but not alone…
With you inside, I moan
I inhale and exhale you daily…
You’re my sweet and sour heroin
I adore you, I can’t deny…honestly…
You’re my hero…you zero me in
Will you remain with us, Scandies Rose?
We'll always be your rugged salty crew,
chapped by the ocean's kiss.
You were our mainstay and our vessel,
you faded down the depths with us.
The sea with her surface of blue glass,
of swells of tempests-
Our sweet Rose,
twenty foot seas and icing,
forty mile per hour winds.
You were listing on your starboard side,
and now the oceanic beauty has our bodies
in her tidal bosom.
The sun gifts the brine golden,
yet, there was never a promise to return to
a misty welcoming harbor.
Neath eve stars,
our wives awakening from dreams without
rest.
Our children's faces stream with tears
trickling down into the receiving seas of
our spirits.
Will the mysteries, the finality of the deep
turn them to another life on land?
In the moss-green waves,
in the seabird's cries our souls
are sealed.
Yet, Poseidon's loss,
as we are everlasting sons
of our Lord's keep. ~
Clanging and bashing
The kitchen's in use
Daughters craving treats
Allowed on the loose.
Flour, sugar, butter
All over the floor
Dusting the ceiling
Spread thru the drawers.
Seeking seclusion
Mum heads to the mall
Dad's not so enthused
He’s taken the fall!
Vanilla smells waft
Blitzed cake mix atoll
Now one eggs rotten
Phew! Missed the whole bowl.
Mixing all finished
Into the oven
Fast rising ignited
By the witch coven.
Ginormous cupcakes
Rest plump on the bench
Waiting so silent
For icing frost drench.
Now bizarre colours
Created in leagues
Designs are invented
Intending intrigue.
Red nose drawn upon
Superfluous clowns
Green, orange, purple
Even some browns.
Goblins and gremlins
Haggard old fairies
Wombles and warlocks
Yellow canaries.
Dad for his patience
Gets the first taste
His fluttering eyes
Say he wasn’t quite braced!
Smiling so sweetly
He says they taste nice.
When truly he wants
Some hard drink on ice!
Cupcakes were vital
Baking so easy
Except for the clean
Now the kids feel quite queasy.
With the palms of well-worn leathery hands that in younger days guided a Tall Ship round
the globe many times with the help of stars that still twinkled in his eyes, the old man made
a porthole in the frosty forest of swirling ferns that had been painted on the kitchen window
pane by Jack-Frost during the night.
As I sat on his lap, he told me the creaking sound made by the rockers from the rocking
chair we sat in on the hardwood floor - if he closed his eyes, could make him believe he was
back with the wind in his sails, rising and dipping and swaying with the whims of the
waves ‘ore the sea.
Back- and- forth, back-and-forth, we rocked as the porthole on the window pane grew larger,
exposing the winter wonder land outside where trees and roads and roof-tops lie frozen
beneath a layer of fluffy snow that looked like icing on a birthday cake, as the house
softened and swelled in the warmth of the burning kindling wood that snapped and crackled
in the stove.
Rocking back-and-forth, back-and-forth, I asked him, looking into those eyes of green, with
that far away look. “Grandpa, won’t you tell me please, what lies beyond the sea?” He
paused for a moment, blowing silver halos that rose from his pipe in an aroma of sweet
smelling ‘Old Sail’ tobacco, and with the magic of his words, he took me on a journey,
rocking across the sea where he showed me all the places and wondrous things he’d ever
seen.
That was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea, where an old man, taught a
little girl, that life is but a dream.
~~~~~
In memory of: Captain James George the Third - My Grandfather
~~~~~
2nd place in 'Anything Goes #2 Contest - sponsered by Constance La France
Author's note:
This is one entry of many that will appear in my next book ' A Journey of Roses and Thorns'.
They are true events that have happened in my life - some where roses, some were
thorns. I have learned valuable lessons from both.
Sitting at the feet of Jesus
As I view the days soon coming
All is new for Him to reign
I’ve been taken up to Heaven
It’s as perfect as it began
When at last I’m found in Glory
I will see Him face to face
I pray for a Crown so golden
To offer Him, I’ve won the race.
I will sing His constant praises
All His promises has kept
Now a mansion I shall dwell in
Walk on streets of gold each step
Spending all eternity near
My Creator God at last
Knowing all my sins and grief
Are forever, in the past.
If my loved one’s I behold there
Amidst His splendors rays
That may be icing on the cake
Another blessing all my days
So give me rest till you return
May Your words now gladly share
Guide the lost unto Your Spirit
He may open hearts so bare.
May God bless your heart at you've read these words.
oldbuck
bang on the midnight hour she woke from her terror
suffocating her eyes popped out of orbital spheres
nerves exposed and dangling tears in front of the truth
not that long ago she had danced in moonshines of joy
bells and whistles attached to silken colourful dreams
now her lullaby had become an epitaph of surrender
she clutched at the straw in the coffin and inhaled
one last breath filled her lungs and screamed as if
to loosen the nails of the casket for one final time
one of which clawed its way into her frontal lobe
she could smell earthworms and scented pastoral voices
almost slipped on the marble of the polished grave stone
the straw tasted of raspberry sorbet and whipped cream
self-flagellation removed the sour icing on the last cake
and she stroked the cotton cloth with her calloused hands
transcended a highway to heaven and took leave of her fear
a crowd of bigoted mourners took flight and ate their words
when she offered no retribution but unconditional kindness
her nightmare’s clarity offered a way to step out of the pit
the pendulum of self-incrimination pierced moribund scares
at the stroke of midnight the sunrise welcomed a new dawn
As with a well baked cake,
That will not be palatable,
If one does not have a recipe to follow,
And take too may shortcuts,
A well baked friendship will need the right amount of patience,
And tastes better if you don't add any soft soap.
Friendship like a well baked cake,
Needs to be baked at the right temperature,
And if you have faith in the cooking process,
With an accurate means of timing,
And know how to cool things down,
You will not be opening the door to a half baked cake,
Or a half baked friendship.
As for the icing on the cake,
One needs to understand that some cakes,
Taste better without it,
Just as some friendships taste better,
Without extra benefits.
Most of us experience baking disasters in our lifetime,
But that does not mean we should stop baking cakes,
Or give up on looking for lasting friendship,
That come with or without the icing.
When night falls and stumbles into slumber
reshuffles memories and tumbles crumbles
minds and mines of coal dust into icing sugar
it transposes trifle tribulations and awakens
Where evening stars and creatures of the dark
mix and mingle myriads of constellations shine
lunar aspirations convert converse in quiet sleep
they silently expose fake impositions of delusion
Why and how and for what reason a cruel world
in guise of rationalised temptation in quite some cheek
and bum and bottom line prescription untangles in
the solace soul and solar comfort of caress eludes
We may be well advised to choose between and
well beyond advancing torturous flagellation of
fool’s false impression misguided paradox reality and
walking sleep catching dream latching over and above
When evening mist and dusk beholds no further
prison walls of misconception’s assault on sanity
imprints no further coffin nails on human nature
the radiant twilight unfolds to tell the story yet again
08th February 2017
Today I Will Not Kill
A tiny insect
slowly crosses my kitchen counter...
easy prey--
No, today I will not kill!
fast if necessary
till I feel some cleansing.
Water OK!
This I know
to be replenished--
though insects do
seem endless at times
everywhere
a potential dot to move,
and I am so immaculate
when it comes
to living-premises--
No, today I will not kill!
I will restore my humanity
by behaving less human;
I will transcend myself
by sparing leggy specks
for new
Divinely inspired instincts--
though I do hate those
foraging things,
and how they multiply
when one does not eradicate quickly--
leaving tracks
across the clean snow of my icing,
expecting light
through a tunnel of straw
only to see phosphorous eyes
glaring back at me
mocking me--
No, today I will not kill!
I will call my wife.