Long Infernos Poems
Long Infernos Poems. Below are the most popular long Infernos by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Infernos poems by poem length and keyword.
The sun fell like a fallen angel
A small town, a small repas de sang
We fell into a land
Where lovers hold hands
Candles shimmered
We saw our faces in cascades
We dreamed of past lovers
We looked forward to our desires
The winds wiped away our sins
As we planned even more carnal desires
The fires, orange and hot
Raging infernos, we said why not
Entwined in dreams
We knew could not be
I drowned in her passion
I died that night, a painless death
No blood or swords did anyone see
As my heart was torn away from thee
Passionate nights, lifeless days
Ghosts laughter my only warning
I fell into the sea
Of what many call life’s misery
I did not drown, I did not die
Here is my immortal warning
Never spend a night away
With Blades
I have drawn
In my restless sleep
I linger in the past
Were my souls
Dry husks of horrors
Are cast
Each one an image in time
The dead feelings have no life
Each blade cuts the dead life away
Like dried skin tattooed with history.
I have drawn sharp blades
in sleepless nights.
They are cast in the infernos
of my Tortured mind.
Furnaces of my damaged ego
I am damned
I pierce my skin
I suffer the pain
Each blade reminds me of what I am.
What I have done.
Piercing my fingers
as I slide them in.
With blades
I have forged
in my deepest infernal nightmares.
Each one has a name emblazoned upon
Each word of my horror
They cut eternal
Here in the dark
Here in my restless sleep
My deepest nightmare.
Here I remain.
Feeling the blades sliver sharp
Sliding into
My spine
Down
Deep…
Unkept promises are like brutal blows,
ruthless ripping words are the harsh slashes,
they strike unaware where latent hope grows,
and cleave through ruptured heart as it crashes.
The mind becomes raging fire of the wild,
uncontrolled, it simmers the blood of pride,
flares to burn the gentle patience defiled.
Undowsed, it singes sane senses defied.
The smoke billows up opaque and intense,
conscience trips losing its stability.
Vile breath is clouded by the ashes dense,
face of restraint they deface instantly.
Mind then turns to volcanic infernos,
with dancing lava of anger scorn flows.
Hurtling clumsily through dark layers of sky --
Unwelcome residue of engorged, menacing clouds --
Gathering momentum, bulking up as they descend
To stab the helpless ground with their frigid edges
Few brave this nasty turn of events -- by which
Peaceful cityscapes are transformed into cold infernos
Of fiery ice -- to greet them, to acknowledge their
Triumph over once-soft, once-pliant 'Mother Earth'...
Like bullets from b-b guns or darts from tasers
They burrow into the earth, into snowdrifts, into
Snowbanks, slashing their way -- howling through the
Clogged arteries of a grating metropolis, grinding her gears
I stopped breathing
as your hands left my skin
petrified,
trees grew around me
their roots pulling me
and scored me into the earth
standing over millenniums
I waited and watched empires fall
towering infernos
created bush cities
of natures homeless
I was shelter,
breathing for deer life
waiting for the time
of moments,
one mini second
provoked into lust
and gentled from rage
I am remade
and,
as all empires fell
so did I
milled and cut
from ash-wood
my essence
made into seven
split in half
till,
at the core,
I am completely
at one
though lifeless
and unseeing
painted hands
of a Matryoshka doll
feel needles and pins
of life
until infinity kisses eternity,
again,
millenniums will pass
and aching with the grain
I hold my wooden breath
to feel your hands again
Fifteen Years Ago Today
By Franklin Price
9/11/2016
Fifteen years ago today, the mighty towers fell
Turned into infernos in a New York burning hell
Airliners flown by terrorists, with passengers inside,
Flew into the towers, hell bent on suicide.
North tower was the first one hit; no warning there at all.
The South one was the second, but was the first to fall.
Not long before they both were down; skyline forever changed.
Thousands of lives were lost that day, killed by those who were deranged
The terror was not over. Two more planes were in the sky,
With targets not yet taken; for no good reason, more would die.
The third plane hit the Pentagon. Liner four was White-house bound.
Then heroes stormed the terrorists; in Pennsylvania wreckage found
That day was an emergency. The date was apropos
Nine-one-one was dialed that day, by terrorists, we now know.
Life that day was changed for us, can't go back, cannot return.
Terrorists not gone yet; still shoot, explode and burn.
Three wars took our money; drove us deeper into debt.
A solution is not clear to me. It is not over yet.
Politicians think they know it all; fight each other for our fate
If the solution not the party line; would rather not cooperate
It's their job to keep us safe, to be solution bound.
We better vote some new ones in, or we'll no longer be around.
We're the only super power that can end this terror rant.
If we don't work together, then ,for sure, I know we can't.
The effects still overwhelming of this day in New York town
Fifteen years ago today, when the towers fell to the ground
My head spins as the noise from the crash echoes in my head. I sit up in some kind of terminal with strange trains bound left and right for places I don’t understand.
One is gold and ornate but the trappings are fake with cracks that filagree in its façade the train reminds me of a serpent-like Leviathan.
The next is sliver and clean with white and sliver cravings blue accents and the train looks sleek streamlined like it's from the far-flung future. Bright lights gleam. Chrome.
Is that blood I see dripping from the golden cracks along the tracks. I feel the frost of the sliver train's exhaust. My head swims and lay my head back to let the world catch up.
The terminals lights are harsh here, harder than Fluorescence More brutal than incandescence the building I find myself in, is like no glass and armature skeletal structure I have to seen before. An architecture unknown in my life. On earth or anywhere. I feel the infernos of one and the chill of the other.
In this Terminal were these mechanical beasts are cradled. This terminus stretches into infinity. I see pail figures drifting up and down the platform faces all a blur like failed dreams I have dreamt once before. My eyes focus but the faces don’t, a little chill runs my spine.
I look around the depot, it is staggering. The architect must have been mad or on some mind devastating drugs.
I look to the right the building fades to a brilliant blue sky with regal clouds and a sun low on the horizon but never settings as occasional clouds pass before it shooting glorious rays of light my father call the visions of divinity. I think I see wing shapes fluttering like butterflies, but that can’t be? I rub my eyes nothing changes.
To the left, I look to see a dark horizon with thunderheads miles high of endlessly thunderstorms churning and crimson and violet lightning lancing the rim of a cityscape on fire. Dark industries tower and burn. A jagged broken land of fissures like rough-cut skin and bleeding lava, belching smoke. The worse nightmare of a demented god.
I stand lost in my own translation. I fell the screams of a car crash echoing, the rubber screeching, burning; in my head like a lingering bad dream. Fading in my inner mind's eye. I am forgetting the time. I must go. I feel I should go but I stand there for a while.
tarnished m e m e n to s
become tumbleweeds
d
r
i
f
t
i
n
g ~
in infernos
b l a z e
Under leaden skies where shadows gather,
We look back at the great tragedy of the ages,
Since the Enlightenment, we admire the shattered dreams,
Where optimists, as architects of false hopes,
Have woven the warp of fear and bitter fury.
The fire of illusion rose like a falling star,
Its light shining over darkened lands,
But the flames of dreams became burning infernos,
Where angel wings and the voices of humanity burned in darkness.
In the ash temples of the troubled past,
The ghosts of the Holocaust and the Gulag whisper,
Great crimes, born of dazzling mirages,
Are painted on the canvas of history, by the hand of unbridled desire.
On the night sky, we weave constellations of despair,
From dead stars and galaxies of remorse,
We are not surprised that illusions have nourished deep wounds,
When those drunk on hopes created ruins of desire.
The palaces of dreams were built on abysses,
In labyrinths of longing and eternal deceptions,
Their towers, constructed from the sands of time,
Collapsed under the desert weight of empty promises.
Fallen angels weep in the recesses of memory,
On wings broken by ideals too high for humanity,
And the souls that believed in earthly edens,
Found only desolate fields, filled with sorrow and silence.
Gazing towards unknown horizons,
In this timeless scene of immortality,
The optimist wanders, an alchemist of his own disaster,
Turning the gold of hope into the lead of eternal regret.
And beyond the mist of time, in complete unknowing,
Only echoes of lost illusions remain,
There, where the curtain is moth-eaten,
We see only masks and spirits that dance in silence.
In the mystic darkness of our existence,
Lies the painful truth of our dreams,
In a cosmic chaos that intertwines hope and ruin,
The optimist and the pessimist, united in the infinite dance of destiny.
—Aftermath, From Ground Zero—
No one will able to destroy this great nation
though Twin Towers collapsed to the ground in the heartless terrorists hands,
and only ugly twisted steel beams and concrete debris piled high
in the heart of world trade center.
Only ashes on the ground
smothering agonizing cries
that tore the ordinary workday’s morning air into pieces.
After struggle to stand in a dense smoke
and a fierce blaze for a couple of hours,
though two towering infernos collapsed in few seconds
one after another and took thousands of innocent lives,
were unable to take this nation’s noble ideals
the spirit for the foundation of this great country.
That is why our lady, Statue of Liberty, stands tall
holding ever-burning torch high in air.
That is why a flame brightens the heroes’ way to the world beyond
in Arlington cemetery, burns forever.
That is why a Phoenix arose from the gathered ashes at ground zero
soars the sky, watching over this nation’s glorious colors,
the Stars and Stripes, that flutter in the air proudly.
O nation that consists from all human races on earth,
yet everyone is treated equally.
O nation of diversified cultures,
yet every culture is regarded with same respect.
O nation of great vision
that stands with noble cause.
O nation of individuality,
yet united under one same nation’s colors.
O land of opportunity, and therefore,
everyone has hope.
Why not, therefore, we proud Americans
reassure our determination,
that is, to uphold our nation’s flag to the end.
Rebuild our dream on this ruin,
that is, to prosper all together under one same nation’s flag.
Reestablish our goal,
that is, to keep world’s peace.
March to the promised future hand in hand for the entire world,
upholding our nation’s colors before us, bringing our good will to all mankind.