Long Infests Poems
Long Infests Poems. Below are the most popular long Infests by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Infests poems by poem length and keyword.
Noise in her Mind
I know her so well she came long ago to visit my being
we share beauty and bedlam boudoir and kindest of spirits
She walks like a cat woman hears like a bat feeds birds
quietly she soothes thunder’s volcano howls with the wolves
Klimt’s Kiss Vermeer’s Girl With Pearl Earring Botticelli’s Venus Degas’s
Dancer In Repose Fedro’s Much Better With Age she
absorbs pastel and paint strokes symphonies on canvas
so many facets big bangs and roaring giggling convulsions
Sometimes Woman Laughing from Goya’s dark paintings
a Broken Column like Kahlo’s when some Munch’s Scream
invades and infests silence deep inside her beautiful scull
Voices shout from profuse directions focus condense and
refract confront tease torment disagree and interfere with
calm serene serenades when a few notes tender chords
and accord vanish into cacophonies misleading the song
I know her so well admire her resilience and how she copes
with the noise the disruption and the ballet of so many
different views pandemonious clangour onslaught of turmoil
as she appears calm on the surface orchestrates quiet composure
How she holds it all together I cannot really fathom with all that
jumbling distance so close and yet so far from my innocent mind
My Venus Of Milo has taught me so much most of it all and over
above that imperfection is a wonderful gift and very complete
Agonizing darkness descends upon my hopelessness.
Crouching in a fetal position as terrifying pain infests.
Oh the slashing, bashing of the wielding belt.
Crying and scampering, knowing his rage, I felt.
Yearning for and welcoming the comfort of death as a release.
As the cloud of fear cries and begs for it to ease.
My body shaken and violently let go what it had.
It only increases this rage from my dad.
At her peril, mother suddenly steps in.
This nightmare of death and torture ends.
She helps me, as I stumble to bed, and I cried all night.
Still fear ravages and paralyzes me from my father’s sight.
No child should ever go through this reign of terror.
Dad begged and begged for forgiveness of his errors.
After a time for healing, I completely avoided him.
A final and difficult reconciliation between us began.
I and my siblings enjoyed and loved him until he died.
His children no longer feared him but honored him with his last rights.
People are fickle
A bothersome tickle
You open the door
To wind up in a pickle
A dreaded half smile
They stay for a while
You’re too polite
And in denial
Instinctively nice
Prone to sacrifice
It gets out of hand, and
Infests you with lice
Your genuine heart
The tip of the dart
That punctures your skin
And pierces your heart
You’re better alone
And crave to be home
Which is why you avoid
The dreaded phone
When put on the spot
It’s as if you’ve been shot
You do as expected
What I’s shall you dot
Which explains your dismay
Too quick, to obey
You’re dying to leave
While agreeing to stay
I know her so well she came long ago to visit my being we share beauty and
bedlam boudoir and kindest of spirits as she walks like a cat woman hears like
a bat feeds birds quietly and soothes thunder’s volcano howls with the wolves
Klimt’s Kiss Vermeer’s Girl With A Pearl Earring Botticelli’s Venus Degas’s Dancer
In Repose Fedro’s Much Better With Age she absorbs pastels and paint strokes on
symphonies’ canvas so many facets big bangs and roaring giggling convulsions
Woman Laughing from Goya’s dark paintings a Broken Column like Kahlo’s when
some Munch’s Scream invades and infests silence deep inside her beautiful skull
Voices shout from profuse directions focus condense and refract confront tease
torment disagree and interfere with calm serene serenades when a few notes
tender chords and accord vanish into cacophonies misleading the song
I know her so well admire her resilience and how she copes with the noise the
disruption the ballet of so many different views pandemonious clangour onslaught
of turmoil while she appears calm on the surface orchestrates quiet composure
How she holds it all together I cannot nearly fathom with all jumbling distance
close to distortion and yet so far from my innocent mind but My Venus Of Milo
taught me so much most of all and over above that imperfection is a wonderful
gift to respect share with my soulmate and lover and is sound and complete
Revised and changed title 27th May 2018
On Christmas Eve, children lay in bed,
In titillating agony as they await what lays ahead,
They are in blissful torture pondering on chocolate cookies and hot chocolate,
Their eyes are wide open with anxious hope of gifts to come,
But Christmas Eve can be a hellish place for some,
For some waiting feels like someone is pulling your toes off one by one,
For some waiting feeling like you are wasting in a hot sun,
“But they that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength,
They shall mount up with wings as Eagles, they shall walk and not be weary, they shall run and not faint!!”
But Isaiah!! Dear Isaiah!! This waiting is an agony I cannot describe,
As pain indwells my insides and blood infests my eyes,
I do not wait for Christmas Trees and Stockings,
I wait for something that many view as impossible,
I wait for God to be the deity that I know her to be,
Full of might and power and wonders to behold and see,
Dear Isaiah, I know I must wait,
But every day that passes is another day that I must endure this affliction,
“But they that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength,
They shall mount up with wings as Eagles, they shall run and not faint, they shall walk and not be weary”
But dear Isaiah, my eyes are teary with the torment of a scorching sun!!
Oh God above,
Oh God of love,
Oh God of bliss,
Please don’t dismiss,
These cries I wail,
For this waiting, it is no titillating agony,
It is an endless Christmas Eve,
With no sign of the coming Son,
Oh God, I know you’re faithful,
Set me free from this agony,
Fulfill your promise and bring the Whirlwind!!
Erase my existence
I break my own heart
until the black smoke infests
breathless lungs,
tortured by the taste
of soul’s inkless touch.
If I am your refrain ~
burn my name
into the pulse of pain,
I need not the sermon
for loneliness
as love asks me to
simplify my demons.
If only words could warm
the wounds I wear
like a warrior lost
in the toxic wilderness of want,
perhaps the algebraic angst
would no longer multiply
and divide the despair,
subtract the sickness
estimate the end ratio
from the sum of somberness
to leave and resolve
a remorseless remainder
too erratic for the
sapphire sigh.
I am an equation
without an equilibrium
measuring the metaphorical
distance between your
dreams and my darkness,
a shattered diamond
scattered on the tip of
infinite intersection of infatuation,
calculating the chaos
amidst your fickle fractions,
I wander as the unknown,
faithless ~ consumed in fears
like a forgotten kiss from grief.
So let the numbers roll numb,
toss a silver to the twisted
tower of garnet tears,
there I will forever remain
the quiescence that failed
to quantify quaking skies
of conflicted clouds,
carrying tales I wove
as if I asked for
this walking nightmare.
Must your hustling highs
see the muse of madness
losing sanity?
I know myself in this
mathematical mayhem ~
a variable without a value,
collapsing into complex
combinations of
constant nothingness,
a negative numeral
drained behind a decimal point,
a disappointment hidden
beneath matte curves
of lipstick lullabies
posted on the walls
of sinners and sunsets.
I never wanted to be the reason
your rhymes wept,
but I am doomed,
a jinxed Juliet of sorrow...
I could have been
your guardian glow,
glistening in confetti gold ~
yet, I am too broken
to be your pink-laced star-catcher,
it isn’t written in fate;
it’s tattooed in bones.
this is the sound of tainted trammels
releasing you from the
smoldering
skin of eternal inferno ~
pardon the paranoia
it's haunted inside,
this is my
island
of
s t
o r
m
s ...