Long Latching Poems
Long Latching Poems. Below are the most popular long Latching by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Latching poems by poem length and keyword.
And when i climbed the mound of grass
The sun set at a stop
Birds came swirling round
Outcrops in the light
Waves crashed under, instability;
Glass houses and rocks.
I think i got there.
I think i managed, because i could see so far out
And when i set up my gear
To yell out to the climbers
I cupped my helping hands around my mouth.
Many couldn't hear me
The glare of red would blind them,
And they could never figure which way to clamber.
Oh, i didn't get it
Where should the left hand grasp?
Where does the right foot get off?
So i'd lean further out to them,
I'd talk them up and on.
My right hand to balance,
My left foot latching on.
And to think i actually made it,
To think i was content...
I guess you wouldn't have guessed.
And in my memory,
It's too much red. I can't recall the day that i fell again.
Falling into a sky of light,
Baby blue and red.
Birds of prey to peck, to steal away my pleasures,
They tell me i'm in debt.
Did i not feed them before?
Did they not eat my grass.
And now many talk
But many cannot listen.
The glare, it always blinds me.
Me, I couldn't listen.
Where should my left hand grasp?
Where will these birds of prey peck.
On which foot did I set off?
Will someone keep me in check?
But oh, I'll never get it
Fearing when dampened grass gives way--
I won't be ready to jump off.
My master's shaft of light is forbidding;
Still, I have enough sense left to keep hidden.
If he cannot find me, he will not hurt me;
my silence, a bold plea for safety.
Beneath the dank hay, prayer makes perfect sense -
what he does not know, my only defense.
His flashlight flickers while making its arc
trying to root out the truth in the dark;
The battery dies; my brain gives birth to flight;
the barn door clicks shut, a plan starts to ignite.
The lock holds his hope for my safekeeping
when he returns, I will not be sleeping.
Knowing not to wait for his light's return,
I kindle the hayloft to cause a slow burn.
Hoping the dampness slows down a fast start,
this new shaft of light warms my anxious heart.
Sure of his soon return with dog and with cane
I wait my escape from flogging's sharp pain.
Hearing both my foes and the handle’s quick jolt,
as they head for the blaze, it's my chance to bolt.
Latching the barn door, ere I make my flight,
dark clouds cover the moon, shielding its light.
Headed to unknown beginnings, I now succumb
Everything's behind me, everything's become.
Author’s Notes: last line is a reference to Tap Turns on the Water by CCS (Alexis Korner, John Cameron)
February 13, 2013
i am...
without mercy!
my thirst is
unquenchable.
i'm a predatory organism
inhabiting
and feeding
off your flesh;
latching on
like a leech,
slurping your blood
like Count Dracula
then licking my lips
with delightful glee
your blood is
my nourishment, you see.
i suck you
bone dry
steadily;
draining life
out of you
as I'm cackling
at your skeletal frame.
you are...
my host.
Date written: 01/22/2021
Under Bryony’s Spell
We met by chance. She caught my eye
as I strolled idly ’mong the trees.
Her endearing smile lit her face.
We clicked; we talked; I stayed till late.
She was strong-willed and confident,
reflecting pure Pokémon breed!
Funny at times, her laugh tinkled
like a wind-chime in summer breeze.
I was under her spell, bewitched
as avidly she entangled
herself around me, coiled tendrils
vigorously latching on to
my unresisting emotions.
Soon darkness fell. We spent the night
within each others arms. Her greed
matched mine. Bryony and I, two
wild climbing vines entwined within
the blooming realm of fantasy.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: In Words She Blooms
Sponsor: Casarah Nance
© 30th August 2016
I'm going back to the beginning of the ending in everything. Like the past kaliedascoping inside a mind wired with colorful glimpses hiding behind reflective times. I must reconcile the spinning and twitching of memories flying by, by balancing out my time in this present life, latching on to the fact that I attract the most unrelatable circumstances to my table of unfed; crying icicle tears of lonliness...Asking, why do I even try to make sense of all this mess? Hmmm...What a situation I have looking back into....Its a maze-filled haze of unregrettable, tending to those psychopathic energy draining endeavors....from misguided tenderly trying to fix the situation into a happily ever after ending that never materializes because.......
In the beginning, there was the original sin; whereby evil seduced a new creation into the delusional thinking that there was more happiness in the taking of what didn't belong to her, than by being obedient before her maker....Beguiling her wiles was a slithering satanic smile with the plight of her newborn, slain inside murderous intentions rendering her immobilized with desperation riddled, there was no forgiveness, depression; the first instance of mourning through the imperfection in her choosing her type of seperation anxiety bereft of a Father leaving her cold naked and exposed because of how she chose to reject what was perfectly shameless and holy,.
If she had a chance, would she go back to the beginning making the ending amended, choosing wisely, instead of putting faith in a fork- tounged liar that promised.....her eyes would be opened and she would be just like God knowing evil and good, that she would never die....because of the evilness. in his lie.......spinning the kaleidoscope into mind bending times...my oh my,....
Drawn by subtle intuition
I follow a winding path
into the heart of the woods,
emerging in an open glade
where feeble sunlight falls
upon a moss covered wall.
Isomorphic intimacy holds
me in a trance; latching
the present to the past, as
nostalgia flirts with mixed
emotions. Resting my hand
on the stone slabs I caress
the rough texture with affinity
sensing the agony of collapsed
aspirations, decayed dreams,
and the utter helplessness
of the irreversible.
--------------------
This poem has been published in a PoetrySoup Anthology:
“Reflections on the Important Things” Nov 2023 (print)
"Wall in the Woods" contest
Sponsored by Craig Cornish
Placed 3rd
© 11th October 2020
The poet is a physician of sorts
tending care to the physical
of his craft -- His patients, the
hearts and souls of humanity --
Latching belts on sleds of words
a-summit he descends, precariously
no safe tracks when in lyric free-fall
Altitudes and scathing depths
are the wails and screeches of
his siren journey down -- when and
where, a dicey pit travel...critics
offer no parachutes...and his lovers
often unavailable, amending their
own wrong steps. Can a writer really make
it safely to the other side, through the creative
pressures of ever revolving mantles and imperative
crushing cores!?
"Powerful addictions sink their long, hooked talons into the afflicted, latching on" - quote by poet
Life is hard for Rod, an addict
Living with chronic pain
For years, he's been wrestling with
Two unrelentingly tempting afflictions;
Drugs and alcohol.
Both threaten to suck him
Into the vortex of self-destruction.
If he manages to pull himself
Out of the abyss of one addiction,
He sinks neck-deep into another.
Rod's drug of choice is Percocet
He has tried to untether himself
From it to no avail.
He has successfully quit alcohol
Only to be reeled back again.
But he's putting up a fight
Day in, day out, determined
To get clean and sober,
To defeat demons without mercy.
Godspeed, Rod!
F Form - Free Verse - New- Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Theme chosen: Life
Date written: 02/24/2022
When night falls and stumbles into slumber
reshuffles memories and tumbles crumbles
minds and mines of coal dust into icing sugar
it transposes trifle tribulations and awakens
Where evening stars and creatures of the dark
mix and mingle myriads of constellations shine
lunar aspirations convert converse in quiet sleep
they silently expose fake impositions of delusion
Why and how and for what reason a cruel world
in guise of rationalised temptation in quite some cheek
and bum and bottom line prescription untangles in
the solace soul and solar comfort of caress eludes
We may be well advised to choose between and
well beyond advancing torturous flagellation of
fool’s false impression misguided paradox reality and
walking sleep catching dream latching over and above
When evening mist and dusk beholds no further
prison walls of misconception’s assault on sanity
imprints no further coffin nails on human nature
the radiant twilight unfolds to tell the story yet again
08th February 2017
My Head of Words
Down the block around the corner is where I left my head....my head I said...face red...crying letter filled tears...these words I see...I write them down for hear cheers....cut to the shape of my mind distant from where I stand....I must of
planned these simple finding words....never tripping...but gripping...latching on
to this constant conscience consequences...that leaves me with no hope but I cope with **** in my mind...nonsense....yeah I know but this bean-stalk of words
continue to grow...no sense of direction...forming a new out look discretion....
whats my motivation....life....life is beautiful...but hard....rewarded to us by God....
I guard my words with my mind...so no one could see...judge...laugh...point...so I used to write for me....now I write for Poetry Soup...and...my new friends of poetry
By:Peter T. DeSpirito