Long Kin Poems
Long Kin Poems. Below are the most popular long Kin by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Kin poems by poem length and keyword.
If only you see
Kin and kind lovely
No need to forsake
Such clumsy outtakes
If only you can
Glimpse and understand
No need to set fire
Odd luck that attires
If only you know
Sad pangs of I'll-flow
No need to cut out
Pieces of flesh pout
If only you dwell
On visions of hell
No need to feel vexed
On mistakes that tax
If only you hold
With black heart so cold
No need to cut ties
With your bloody lies
If only you burn
Paths of no return
No need to just hitch
A riddled black reach
If only you merge
With deep broken scourge
No need to be nice
You wear well your vice
If only you trap
Death in your mind map
No need to need more
To settle the score
If only you spell
Bluff in show-and-tell
Leon Enriquez
25 July 2018
Singapore
Just another night in the dim pub light
When McJock sat up close to McGee
There, at the bar, drinking both from a jar
Laughing and slapping their knees
When came from Jock's throat, a more serious note
A question he posed to McGee
"If I went to your house and made love to your wife
And she had a baby, by me
Since your wife and I mated, would that make Us related,
It boggles my mind Half Again,
Beyond 'magination but by my estimation
Is it possible that we could be Kin"
McGee thought awhile, then turned with a smile
Said "I don't tink so, and it's time I was leavin'
But dere's one ting for sure dat no one can ignore
It most certainly would make us both even"
Alive, yet shaken to the
core of her lovely bones
youngest offspring unexpectedly
lost control of vehicle and groans
papa unable to comfort her,
she inconsolable sobbing tears
muffling thru telephones
safe and sound nonetheless
shook up like rolling stones.
Though dwelling bajillion miles away
in Bend Oregon beloved daughter
endearing supportive words
I tried to say
aware sullen mood
fifty plus shades of gray
impossible mission
to assuage grievous
state, especially cuz
accompanying passengers
namely my sister,
and Dunning family did display
anger at recklessness,
though harsh words
merely exacerbated upset
lass - earlier today
August seventh two
thousand nineteen flay
grant over cockiness
best appeased with je
nais sais quois gentle
kindness versus reprobation,
yet quite aware
castigating shrieks nee,
livid rage reflexive from
kid sister otherwise mellow
nonetheless hardpressed
regarding this fellow
to envision ordinarily
calm, cool and collected
sibling to rage and soulfully bellow,
yet informed charming product begat
courtesy mine biological
flesh and blood no
benefit arises to chastise
i.e. figurative flagellation
pinging hither and yon to and fro
but eternally thankful no loss of life...
whew, this dada would never know
reason nor rhyme
to continue livingsocial
purposefulness would heighten grow
wing suicidal ideation - I haint joe
king absolute zero
willpower to write poe
whit tree and/or flash fiction
decidedly, essentially, fervently toe
tilly tubular lee mein
kampf spirit bro
kin, analogous to falling off
skyhigh wall apropos
bailing out hatch of airplane
minus parachute gratefully dead
upon impact resembling red jello
splattered, the closest
aye attain tubby jiggle oh.
They sat at a table, weathered and wide,
Under cottonwood branches, side by side.
The July sun filtered through leaves like lace,
Softening time, and softening space.
Years had passed—some sharp, some kind—
Each carried stories, heavy with time.
But here they were, two hearts grown old,
Still warm, still curious, still untold.
She smiled at him through lines of grace,
Brushing hair from her wind-swept face.
“Tell me,” she said, with a quiet sigh,
“Why did we break up? Please tell me why.”
He blinked, then chuckled, slow and low,
“I honestly… don’t even know.
Maybe fear, or maybe pride,
Or just the ache of growing wide.”
He spoke of work, of quiet nights,
She spoke of love, of wrongs and rights.
But in the hush between each thought,
A closeness bloomed they never sought.
“Coffee dates sometime?” she asked at last,
Letting the moment not rush past.
“Maybe supper too,” he said, eyes bright,
“Some evening when the stars feel right.”
And nothing more was planned that day,
Except to let the past give way.
To something small, and sweet, and true—
A second chance beneath the blue.
Scott W.
...His hand flashed fast, the Colt spoke loudly,
Dalton was struck, flew back wildly.
Silas shifted right, cut down that man,
still fumbling with the gun in his hand.
The other man threw his hands up high,
said Silas, “Run, or you too will die.”
The bandit scrambled, leaving the bar,
Dalton still breathed, but wouldn’t get far.
“In what wourld could we ever be kin?”
snarled Silas, standing over him.
“When you get there, find Satan and tell
him how a Hamlin sent you to Hell.”
Dalton’s breath rasped, the fear present now,
wanting mercy he’d never allowed,
but Silas cared not, slowly took aim,
then sent a bullet straight through his brain.
The saloon was still, people hiding,
Silas straight up, gun still smoking,
said to the bartender, “Sorry for the floor.”
flipped him some gold, then strode out the door.
On glossy pages generally reserved for stars of stage and screen
golden calves lounging casually on cushioned chaises, deities of decadence
sunlight streamed in black and white through filthy, filmy windows
as flies converged in the corners crawling over themselves in a frantic frenzy
I could hear their communal buzzing echoing in my ears
facing my own fears for my future
forcing myself to read past the first paragraph
Another photo followed, captured on the same sort of camera as the famous
The bathroom of the apartment one level below
black slime soaking through the ceiling, oozing down the walls like ectoplasm
congealing on the cold tiles, dripping in the sink
I could smell it in the ink
the sour, sickly sweet, pungently putrid scent of a slaughterhouse
The identity of the source of the gore from above
gleaned from the contents of his wallet
removed from his back pocket as he lay face down on the floor
by the thickly gloved hand of a man in a moon suit
He had been drawn to the city decades before searching for fame
to see his name on marquees
hoping his face would soon grace the covers of magazines
like the one I was currently reading
His neighbors knew nothing of him
describing their fellow dweller within the walls of the run down slum
as a silent ghost
rarely seen but for a moment before vanishing behind his door
as if he had condemned himself to solitary confinement for his failures
In the end no next of kin could be found
His ashes collected in a tin container sat on a shelf
in the city morgue for a year
before being dumped in a hole dug in the ground by a stranger with a spade
in a corner of a neglected cemetery
along with all the others who had died alone
unclaimed, unmourned, unrenowned
-
Kin
by Michael R. Burch
for Richard Moore
1.
Shrill gulls,
how like my thoughts
you, struggling, rise
to distant bliss—
the weightless blue of skies
that are not blue
in any atmosphere,
but closest here ...
2.
You seek an air
so clear,
so rarified
the effort leaves you famished;
earthly tides
soon call you back—
one long, descending glide ...
3.
Disgruntledly you grope dirt shores for orts
you pull like mucous ropes
from shells’ bright forts ...
You eye the teeming world
with nervous darts—
this way and that ...
Contentious, shrewd, you scan—
the sky, in hope,
the earth, distrusting man.
Originally published by Able Muse
Zephaniah 3:17 KJV The Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing.
Grace more abundant
Than words could reveal
Feelings so pure, honest
They color hearts kind
Bring joy and love to mind
Goodness more thoughtful
Than blessings of delight
Glowing so brilliantly
Alive with knowing, insight
Whispers of light shimmering
Psalms praising and playing
On the sun’s soft light
Filling spirits with devotion
Intimacy and inspiration
Amusing the imagination
Prayers of peace and promise
Linger on the palette
Rich with love and kindness
Arousing peace, dancing
With bursts of creativity
God sings , shouts, sends
Blessings we wouldn’t expect
Brilliant, beautiful blessings
Breathed out of God’s own heart
Vibrant, vital and luminous
Faith awakens the assurance
That we have all we need
Miracles we’d never fathom
Wonders so jubilant, dreams
Flowing with milk and honey
Love lingers on those souls
Who know God will complete
Each and every thought – He marvels
In the creation He esteems
His children, His design, His dream
We’re blessed to be kin to the King of Kings!
Be kind to others
As you would have even your ecopolitical enemies
and win/lose ZeroSum competitors
be kind,
feel kinship,
speak kindly,
listen cooperatively,
take turns co-investing in win/win solidarity
with ecological empowering
enlightening interdependent Us.
Be not unkind to
or against Others
As you would not have even your Lose/Lose
non-ecological monoculturing,
out of control,
beyond healthy curiosity,
runaway wealthy StraightWhiteMale privileged,
RightWing negative Patriarchal Capitalists
become un-ecologically unkinned
against you
With the nearly unforgiveable audacity
to camouflage
patriotic nationalism
with anthrosupremacist rights of Earth ownership
to remain stubbornly win/lose
against healthy matriotic ecological views
of cooperative co-empathic integrity
As also Green CoPassionate wants and needs
roots and seeds
for polypathic communication
Refining win/win messages
healthy choices
wealthy voices
that regenerative democratic energy
is not necessarily not PatriarchalCapitalism degenerative
RightWing Yanged-out meanness energy
does not yet equal Yintegral Green LeftWing
exponentially spiraling synergy
As monotheistic Yang
equals not not ecological Yintegrity
exponentially squared
As EarthSpace that kindly matters
is also not not resilient Time
ecologically ex-potentially squared
in-formationally cubed
and kindly spiraling health dynamic
co-relational fractal wealth
Is not quite the same
as either proving
or disproving
that controlling PatriarchalCapitalism
reversed through principles
of both polyculturing and communal
healthy root systemic wealth
begets necessarily ecological kind co-relationships
Not bipolarizing out of control
not judging
disapproving
criminalizing
punishing
taking win/lose revenge
blaming with leftbrain verbal dominance,
overpowering by shaming right mindbody
neuro-sensory
co-passionate prime non-zero kind attachment
Zone of internal
polyentheistic nondenial of divisive secularizing turmoil
inviting WholeEarth Tribal co-investments
re-memeing
cooperative Green Indigenous EarthWomanist
kind memories of PolyCultural Communalists
Who really just don't have time
for all that nonsacred
monotheistic PatriarchalCapitalist sin
and mean ignorance.
Hi biscuit, you’re mighty and cute
So acute in hearing that I’m spearing fruit
Perhaps you didn’t know, I’ve lived in the South…too.
Entertained a name in the halls of high school
I thought it was cool, even back then
We were Rebels
Trivial this trivia of mine
Confuses many versed in sublime
My Confucius IS confusing
As are my rhymes butt
So what if they are
They’re just in my mind
Xposing me in a Leonine wind
(out of the skillet and into the…?)
bhindi, also know as a gem
... we banter in Bantu, know?... KinGumbo?
Layers of players in a game of purr suits
and sLayer the Dragon thought I said suite
So he booked a room and waited for treats
meanwhile…
Derelicts were there as centurion scribes
Bricks they made while recording tribes
Bows they carried low and to the side
... On a long coarse
I watched the hoarse-men ride.
Primus asked and the filly said hey…
Ask again in the proper way
Cute doesn’t cut it, the Cupid had to say.
Especially, if the gravy is grey.
”...oh look Vincent, it’s your lobe dear…” ;)
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