Long Lacerated Poems
Long Lacerated Poems. Below are the most popular long Lacerated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lacerated poems by poem length and keyword.
As taut breezes whip on a chilled evening,
I find her standing upright---relentless firm
murmuring vexedly which drain all exchanges
beyond amity. My warm glances try to uncover
how the pain of disorder all began :
Yet how unbending, even obstinate her will,
all those grates of words so stern that I and kin
endure the torment of our lacerated feelings:
O dear sister, it is hard to reconcile
your two opposing worlds--
the quarrel of your manic storms at its peak
while tangy air twirls outside the garden
like a hearth's need for clarity…we keep
our tones hushed and wait, wait until
a clear energy releases this implacable mind
from blinding yet another evening of reality:
Twilight draws near…she slips into oblivion,
peaceful, not knowing this part
of her masked entity holds her enslaved..again.
7/20/2019
John Hamilton’s Intransigence Contest
Tell me those lies
you alone can tell
with that spark in your eyes
as accompanying jest
I’ll take the mirage
of love my friend
hide in a smile
the pain
of a heart lacerated
by claws
hidden in softness
of paws
Trust me it’s love
Autumn tears
falling
washing wound
then covering
with sunset leaves
capping
with snow soft gauze
protecting
from passionate winds
while resting
in arms of love
protected
Trust me it’s love
Sun rays peaking
then hiding
through wind blown
curtains inviting
to flowering branch
where hiding
love bird is singing
and waiting
for heart to get drunk
on sunlight
dreaming of paradise
awaiting
Trust me it’s love
Pearly moon light
romancing
pupils seem to vanish
reversing
pale night sky
into an expanse
of serene blue light
breezy spring scent
inebriating
music of stars serenading
two hearts
circling each other
Forever in love
Sixt Place Winner: Brian Strand Contest 1290-2/29/24
First Place Winner: Brian Strand-All Yours-3/4/21
Sixth Place: Craig Cornish- Blue- 1/11/19
Sixth Place: William Kekaula- Say It Again- Contest-5/15/21.
Third Place: Brian Strand-No 1203-3/27/23
With the melodic cadence of my fervent heart,
pulsating with the charming tinsels of mesmeric night,
gleamed my love for you with the enticing tinge,
suffused with the sequins of the argentine moon.
I felt in a trance the sweet touch so tempting
of your captivating charisma intangible,
but you drifted away from my engrossed perception,
like the chromatic cloud wafting in the twilight sky.
In the blooming valley of flowers my cataract heart
cascaded as a stream of embedded melted emotions
through the turquoise course of lingering longing,
and on the plateau of yearning I wandered beguiled.
From the ebony edge of the fallen gloomy night
the storm clouds surged with blades of shearing pain,
lacerated the lilting facade of the sky, I called my heart,
where the shards of dream sank in the tears of despair.
Losing the desire in the debris of the broken heart,
I sauntered sullen to the shore of silent sorrow.
My infatuation swirled away like dislodged surly sands
in the remote time’s tide when I thought you were mine.
The transient trajectory flame of devoured desire
furrowed in my marooned mind a blazing trail of longing.
I couldn’t trace entranced the track of the spurting star,
it drifted away like your love, for I didn’t dream enough.
From the ebony edge of the opaque night of despair
storm clouds surged with thunders of tearing strife,
splintered my remnant dreams dispersed in debris,
and I then realized my heart couldn’t yearn enough.
The sound of your voice in the avid air of my yearning
echoed with melody in the void of my lonely heart.
How complete I was as it delighted me to the core
to get the feeling of togetherness, I couldn’t let you know.
When you left tracing the trail of the melting mirage,
I felt deserted like the desolate sands in the dry dune.
My pent-up words ‘I need you’ remained sadly unsaid,
floated way in the whirlwind of sandstorm to oblivion.
Your essence stays with me as an indelible image,
fused with the onyx motif of the abyss in my heart.
I’ll light there a million candles of love for you,
so, you’ll find the lost way to return, and be mine, forever.
I'm jabbed at my side with plummet and jab, and yet I must grin and bear it,
I'm abhorrent with scorn for those who must mourn, but then I indifferently swear
it.
Pathos and play this is the new way to read past a cover,
But to sured dismay this supposed display is nothing but a buffer.
Acceptance in many, a noble pursuit but is it worh scrupulous losses,
For every companion is lost in a canyon of lacerated crosses,
For sin and lamehnt are the only avail when deceit is a popular practice,
Honor and grace can prove ugly in taste for those who apparently lack this,
Jest in the cruel and pain in the righteous seem to be the new standard,
So why not be masses with sections and classes and measures of Lucre as
spirit,
The reason is subtle it's muffled in evil, but one can still hear it beating,
Through hunger and death, bloodshed and stress that seems to incumbent the
streets,
The beat of one's own heart, it has all the answers to questions regarding the
spirit,
It's written in code for angels and God so only who listen will hear it,
To the sainted listerners, it's an astute obligation, to grin and bear the malice tht
the deaf hearts do commit,
For at one time or another, we have done unto our brother in a contradictory
fashion that what he would have us do,
So we have to keep on sinning and never cease our grinning, when we really
want to burst into a burning flame of hate,
For others haven't heard the news, that not to be true to yourself is to lose,
So priviledged few, that have a clue, will simply have to wait.
Man has...
One body,
And one soul,
But two versions of self.
One that the world sees clearly;
A smiling, all-is-fine mien;
A face unmasked.
One side of self
Brimming with confidence
And compassion.
The other, hidden
From the outside world;
Cold,
Cynical,
Judgmental.
A pained face, concealed
with lacerated wounds unseen.
A face behind the veil
of self-doubt and insecurity.
A self, a face
hidden in the shadows,
afraid to turn around
and be illuminated
by sunshine,
but which one is true?
Date written: 04/28/2020
A glass of vodka on the table,
A chocolate joint between the fingers,
A Tokarev in the bag,
The brain infused with adrenaline.
Misery, a nightmare,
Being poor, a curse,
Forced to drown in illicit transactions.
Survival: a necessity to exist,
Bound to poverty since the placenta.
Murder scenes as the only spectacle,
From the watchtower, the horizon is mortiferous.
Reality proclaims its sentence with a firm voice,
The cruelty of the street teaches raw lessons to worn-out heels.
Gagged souls count the dirty money that corrodes their future,
A pact of survival sealed between greasy fingers and clenched fists.
The heart hardens to feed a hungry mouth,
Prayer turns into calculation, cash becomes language.
Yellow smiles are sold, worn-out allegiances are bought,
Eyes assess, tongues negotiate the unforgivable.
A shiver of metal recalls the origin of the debts.
No respite, the market demands its tribute without mercy.
A verse carved inside lacerated fists,
Ultimate testament of a centuries-old ordeal.
Word Lyric #9 for Music
“Testimonies of Old Hippies”
We are still traveling by the speed of mind,
We’re the old freaks, and survivors of the great Be In,
Winsome hippie girls, now old and still kind,
Play pan flutes with feathers glued to their skin.
We were there when Joe and Jimi stole the big show,
With their mythic renderings cast in vinyl stone,
What was it? Where are we? We did not exactly know,
Janis and Pete and Alvin Lee lacerated the night alone.
And we heard The Bear boogie on down the wooded road.
Some of us saw magic mushrooms smiling on a giant toad.
Richie Havens and Carlos Santana let it all fly as we sat there,
Far away into mind space, their epic explosions resounded,
Electric guitar hysterics with screaming rants compounded,
We were all laid to waste there, in the rock n’ roll blare.
We old freaks still travel by the speed of mind,
Old dudes, and hippie girls hang around and are still kind,
We still secretly toke at midnight, all of us with the ghosts,
Of Joe and Jimi, when they sliced the sky, before that vast host.
The world came together as one —
Or rather, acted as one, like in the
Days of Noah, in the first lockdown
Following the first pandemic of flooding.
There was the smell of a virus.
Thick and heavy, it held the lungs hostage.
There was a confraternal mass, and between heaven and hell
An iota of odour, bigger than the sinking sun, hung in the stratus
Dour moments followed us to the bedrooms
Where we cringed without facial masks.
As we sneezed, the earth caught cold and shivered.
I never knew that viruses were also weapons.
Vaccines became the new baptism.
Darkness descended quickly every evening
With patterns of winter during wars of attrition
Global hate paused as the clocks ticked loudly
Hostilities ceased.
Material envy retreated to
The back pews of desolate churches,
Fragile and lonely with the silence of the wilderness.
The beasts of the earth visited on tiptoe — as hard times
Would come and go;
We were reborn, and clutched at the saddened minutes of
Borrowed sanctity.
Holed up in lacerated mattresses and hovels of death,
Many made music alongside silenced choirs
That hummed trembling hymns from distances brought nearer home
By visuals of horror.
The earth was on her knees,
Addled by the haste of her own funeral,
Subdued by a thunderless, voiceless rainstorm,
Cremated without the need of wood and fire.
The smell of the virus came with the intensity of balmed sin.
It was sin itself.
Recovering from that attack, that invasion, that lockdown
Would require the touring strengths of the dove and raven,
Who would cruise on the wings of passing time
To secure a landing word of caution,
With or without olive branches on their beaks, displaying
Redrawn maps of fumigated paths and ravines of earth.
Love lost; love found.
My Love Lost,
Like lancinate waves that ebb and flow lapping on
Lacerated lace, laid hold labored and languid,
Lonesome, lucid breathing, labile labiate sand.
My Laborious Love found,
Like a linear lattice of limitless love,
Leaps as a leaf spin with the wind, as truth in life.
Loops around labyrinthine of emotions,
Loyalty evolving of labored lasting roots.
3/20/2022
My Lost And Found Love Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: JCB Brul
lancinate- painful as if caused by a sharp instrument
labiate - resembling or possessing a lip or labium
My dignity MUST remain intact
while i conceal my lack of tact
i will still trust my instinct
to give up my “pleaser” stint
So in this particular instance
i CHOOSE to stay firm in my stance
against all this negging going on
Just give over with the egging on
I simply refuse to oblige
Your offer to indulge
in the tussle and rumble
inside a mud pen rife in grumble
I'll have to turn down for now
I just cannot afford, to allow
you, to nudge me into reacting.
From the way you keep on acting
i can tell you are really itching
to rip off all the stitching
where my heart was lacerated
the heat from your hatred
Is rather daunting for me
your words to this day, haunting me
Yet I refuse to be deterred
from my path, I won't be deferred
I'm intent on being true to my nature
i won’t hand you the aperture
to have me for your scapegoat
I won’t let you lay the base coat
to better showcase my unraveling
Your actions are rather revealing.
they clearly show ill intention
I refuse to give that any attention
I'd sooner revel in my newfound peace
build back my resilience by the piece
Soon, i will find a home for my presence
worthy of my energy and essence
I CHOOSE to align with values, that reflect
the importance of compassion and respect
Form: