Long Knives Poems

Long Knives Poems. Below are the most popular long Knives by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Knives poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Traffic Jam Schadenfreude

Every morning, I work from home
I turn on the radio, if I'm unhappy and alone
You hear so much misery when the car jams are told
Make you feel happier, if you're mean and cold

The outbound George has a disabled tractor trailer
Some drivers now are cursing like a sailor.
On the inbound Holland there is police activity
Imagine all those slowed drivers, it's like captivity.

(chorus)
There are people who like pulling tails of cats
Others freakout Grandma by attaching bells to bats
But me, I enjoy the misfortune of those who drive
Comparing our fates makes me feel more alive.

On the Pulaski skyway it's a waiting game
I bet Mr. Pulaski would have not delegated his name.
Its bumper to bumper after Passaic Avenue
I bet those drivers are steaming too.

At the exit ramp an accident partly blocks
That teen driver just learned life has hard knocks.
Heavy delays, so many drivers annoyed
But the traffic jams give me Schadenfreude.

The Lincoln backs into Weehawken tight,
They’ve been stuck in that tunnel since about midnight
Makes you wonder, and contemplate
Or if you're like me, you feel really great.

Add up all the lost hours of lives
No need for bombs, no need for knives
Time that could have been used for better things
All the waste, we should have wings.
Form: Lyric


Onions

my dear friends,

i am writing to address
a memory of sorts:
a lovely barbecue,
evening, on the beach.

you all brought
ingredients
to pile on my barbecue.

you all brought your onions
your palette knives
your cutting board
and one of you were
cutting onions.
                at the beach.

the juices, they pricked
pricked my sockets for droplets.
oh, it was lovely,
the sizzling crackle of veg.
and i took my chair,
i examined the burns.

the sizzles, the pops, how the knife had painted
the onions
onions!
red onions in the sky .

it scorched my eyes
oh! the taste!
and you were all so thrilled
to share your creation

the meal was fantastic
filling for the night, but for days after
i couldn't rid myself of
onions
without cutting them away from my eyes
so i vaguely remember
in a dream like state,
one of you took your palette knife
and scooped them out for me.
i cried and shook for hours in relief!

and, oh! what a time.
and, oh.
onions.

Hunting Vacuum

Speaking to the clock
"tick-tock..tick-tock..."

The Cold breeze whispered in her ears:
"Kill and I will clot..
Like a cherry on top,
Thou shall suck the ruptured spleen
Taste of blood, thine eyes shall gleam.."

She grinned in mockery of their fears:
"yes Master! I read your chimes,
In my alleys, wisdom sublimes
Into the smoke, of a stale corpse
My rhymes are written in ruby drops.."

Night has fled beneath her eyes
And there, she stood by her prey:
Thorough, and her hair was dark
Conscience seldom would embark
Her psyche, she had no doubt
Loved the redness on her pout..
The glee that death had given her
Made her fly into the azure,
Choice of knives, 
Choice of lives,
Or raw, she liked her meal
Broken bones, 
With fleshy robes 
Alive! It made her feel:
Fingers dripping blood,
She licked the floor..
For more,
Poor prey! she kept it still
As she devoured to the heart..

The Cold Air embraced her in a passionate kiss..
Esctatic shiver in the icy trance,
She had her dessert:
Eyes that lolled on the couch,
She plucked, as per her divine vouch,
Time had passed, without a glance..
 
She leaves the night for the damned
Until hungry again.
© Iman Roy  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member A Crimson Leaf

As summer's vibrance begins to unfurl
 It looks askance at its last butterfly
 Then whispers the wind as falling leaves swirl
 In hues of red and gold dancing on high

 A crimson leaf floats gently to the ground
 And there it lingers for a little while
 Awaiting gusts of wind to come around
 To take its journey to a leafy pile

 A distant birdsong echoes in the field
 The old windmill creaks as it starts to spin
  Apples fill barrels of a farmer's yield
    Knives are ready to carve the pumpkin's grin

 My thoughts linger awhile, and then take flight
 And takes me peacefully to autumn's night
                              --
 10-1-19
 Your Best Sonnet July-December 2019 Contest
  Sponsor: John Hamilton
© Joseph May  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Sonnet

Adding Up

Heartbreak Poem


1 + 1 = you and me
But why does that math not add up?
Cuz you keep me up past 3 am
And telling me you found someone new 
Why would you do this TWO me?
1, 2 many times you've broken my heart
When will it stop?
Us divided 
Her added
Where was us in this equation? 
Maybe you did it all for show?
There was no us
There was you and what you wanted
Never had things the way it could be
And maybe it was for the best 
That you left me
And maybe if I let
I can forget you
But what if I don't?
And what if I cry?
Maybe it hurts
I can't deny
All those memories 
Then the fall
Yeah we had these
And yes their awful 
But what if they were all resolved?
The unadd and the heartbreak that follows 
Some many questions, never answers
When will I know you only did it for you?
Didn't care how I would feel 
I should have put two and two
It was all for fame
All you cared was for the attention 
Didn't pay no piece of mind
I'm not one to have some vengeance 
Even though you were never mind
You broke me, hurt me
All for your gain
Then you left me
Broke and in pain
So maybe I did like you
And maybe I wanted to give you a second chance 
You didn't have to
||Hurt my heart||
It's over now I guess 
Erased from your life
For good
Those words cut like knives
And it surely could 
I'm not built for this kind of math
Maybe I should go my own way
Take a turn, find a new path
And you can stay
Stay in my life as a distant memory 
One that I might not want 
But it doesn't have to be
One that never will disappear 
This heartbreak might never heal
But I do know I can try to deal
Deal with the past and make a future 
One with you forgotten
And it's in my nature
To make sweet from your rotten


The Greatest Father Ever

Unlike any other king, my father is the most powerful
He can build a mansion in seconds still he chose to be humble 
He prefers giving to taking for this is his principle 
Sacrificing himself selfishly just so I can live on

I remember the way he looked at me when he saw me sick
I could tell he was worried and  all he wished for was a speedy recovery 
I saw him folding his hands in prayer and blessings was all I felt descending 

Many times I wonder why the care is much 
So I do things intentionally just to see his wrath
But all I get from him are words of change and such
Which makes me feel guilty and emotionally touched

There was a time he left his throne and came to the street in rags
He heard and saw the bad guys who wanted me beaten to death
He fell and took the blows and bleeds from their knives for me
I couldn't help but scream my hatred for my painful lags

If I could do things over I'll live my life again 
and never take it for granted but live with joy and fain
For his hands are soft and kind and his eyes filled with love
He is the God of all gods and THE GREATEST FATHER EVER.
Form: Verse

BETRAYAL - More than BROKEN

It wasn't the betrayal itself that shattered me,
but the smiles that masked the hatred.
It was the deceit behind the love they wore,
and the realization that every shared laughter
was a facade for the knives they held.
It's not the betrayal itself that shattered me,
but how I let them unravel the secrets of my heart,
offering my vulnerability to their sight.
It really isn't the betrayal that shattered me—
it was the ease with which they daggered my heart,
with no regard for the friendship I once held sacred.
It was the innocence in their eyes,
and the cold truth: my heart was never worth
what I believed it to be.

©Mwila The Poet 2025

Silent dark

shadows
”When you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives.”  
—Lauren Eden, The Lioness Awakens

i was raised by the dark—  
mother taught me to swallow  
the unsaid. my tongue split  
on edges, learned to sip honey  
from blades.  

shadows don’t starve.  
they chew the unspoken:  
hiss of struck matches,  
salt of a wound,  
a fist clenching grief  
like a prayer.  

i wear my scars as cutlery.  
each night, i set the table  
with my father’s silence,  
my mother’s marrowless bones.  
i eat what the light abandons.  
i drink what it fears.

Apple Heart

My heart is an apple
You slowly peal it
The you cut in to half
Then you cut in to slices 
Slowly you cut it, slowly it hurts
I thought you have stopped cutting
Because for a minute you have paused
My heart is an apple 
Sweet and sour at the same time
You enjoy sensing my fragrance 
By cutting me slower and more
My heart is an apple
You want to peal me every day
Cut me or Bite me,  it hurts the same
My heart is an apple
A jam is good in the morning 
A Pie is good for dessert at night 
What ever you want you can make it
My heart is an apple in your hands
You can enjoy looking at me
You can cut me with your knives
You can bite me with these vampire teeth
You can eat me between your lips
But, it's fine!!! I agree
Since you are the only one who gets to taste me
© Kaila B.A  Create an image from this poem.

A L M O S T a B a B Y

so, who is not dishonest,
    right from the word go?
   who put the I before promise?
it was you because I said so... from the word go 
       when I was nearly a child
 you were almost a baby
it is not time that decides
      you don't get to play me... almost a baby  
                                              almost a baby

          now as the world divides
        and it's all forks and knives
              now I live a thousand lives
           All of them tainted, I'm tainted

standing tall in my shade 
 you were almost a baby
ne'er had call to be afraid 
        Well, not until lately... almost a baby 
when I was nearly a child
 a'playin' knock-a-door-run
          s'bold, gentle and wild
      Now where has that boy gone?... knock-a-door-run
                                                        knock-a-door-run

          we are now civilised
       I'm the creative one
              devising alibis 
         and I am going, I'm gone, I'm wasted

when I was nearly a child
 you were almost a baby
Form: Lyric

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