Long Liquefied Poems
Long Liquefied Poems. Below are the most popular long Liquefied by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Liquefied poems by poem length and keyword.
Temperate gold buds, untrimmed, lease heaven,
In the wake of an avarice moment,
The grandeur Laurentian Abyss, she came.
Love witnessed a desire being potent,
Her hair the color of passionate heat,
Trailed sparks in the carved vale of the Abyss,
She brought the ardor of men their defeat,
And vanquished hearts with her outpour of bliss.
Genteel tasks in her liquefied domain,
Her expressed lured eyes left their thoughts to wane,
From Neptune Masiff, left many in vain,
The heights alone made the challenge, a strain.
Abyss turned Masiff, mermaid of pardon,
Her laughter championed her trust wanton.
"Resurrection of a sinner! "
I was lost in the streets, gave in to a life of lawlessness. Governed by cigarettes and booze.
Chasing after dirty skirts and lethal injections so lethargic they caused a time skip that made me miss out on the important stuff like mama's birthday, no hooray!
Woke up in a mortuary with no obituary late in January this got me worried.
The voices in my celeberum amplified to a point of sezing, sneezing and reaping the bad seeds l sowed.
I owed it to thy self to stand up, dust myself up and find myself.
Liquefied my demons and flushed them down the river Jordan for salvation.
Took papa's advice and turned my books and hooks into tools of success.
The Bible became my best friend, traded my pipe for a hymn of Psalms in order to see the light and never allow darkness to blind me again.
Meditating each and every time the serpent tries to tempt me, forever thankful to the Alpha and Omega through Jesus Christ for untying the rope that threatened to obliterate me.
Now l see my face on billboards, magazines, newspapers and all forms of media people crave to digest, my life now an inspiration for all.
Christ lionized my talents for flying ads so all can hear about his glory and power...
Amen!
But Never Forget
Stoned out his lonely mind and drunk on booze and oblivion he headed straight
into memorial abandon doomed and entombed smashed forgotten and lost forever
He once was Jack but his friends called him Daniel or Beam a proper lad walking
the tight rope which snapped under the influence too staggered to walk thus he
took his proud chrome machine home from his drinking hole past the cemetery
Ten drinks too many ten commandments ignored the message of grapevines which
haunt him though he still is too pickled to wake from his coffin nailed in the sand
He turns in his grave deliriously trembling from within crashed skull and bones a
statistic foretold an accident waiting to happen grape wrath wreaths draped over the
anger of the innocent victims of his reckless slaughter in another man’s family’s grief
Buried and berried his final resting place revolves around the plight of his victims
overgrowing vines drape the tormenting obsession with liquor not bearing up to
the promise but a killer instead creepingly depicted through the inscription of
'bastard’ carved in the stone hiding the shame he never absolved nor confronted
His mates do not remember him much and do not visit the funeral grounds as they
are always too drunk and only occasionally toast to how much drink he could stomach
and after a while the rampant sleaze of uncultivated excess sprouts just as untamed
as Jack the lad and his liquefied liquidation of a moribund life lost in the undergrowth
When the dust and the seedy sediment has settled Jack’s mother still mourns what
still festers under the surface and the descendants of the hapless casualty killed in
the process wish for the grape vines to smother to maybe forgive but never forget
Drab pigeons in flight, skimming over the streets
Swift, restless movement, but going nowhere
Cleaving curved wings in the hot and stagnant air
While no one takes notice of a gray day's defeat
They circle and settle, no rhyme or a plan
They perch, then depart, feathered gypsies who roam
Chasing the shadows, surveying the land
They scavenge the streets, for a place to call home
Summer that coils between cracks in the concrete
Liquefied smog brews far deep in the bone
Pigeons fly low, testing virtues of streets
Assemble in flocks, yet must forage alone
Searching at feet of the crowds who walk by
Waiting for nothing, just a crumb from the sky
…..
Drab men walking circles, slouched over with scars
Their only companions are ghosts of defeat
With no place to go, except under the stars
They huddle in corners, as the bitter night peaks
People and traffic are pounding the beat
No one gives notice, while they travel not far
Down sidewalks, and litter, in the noise of the street
Like pigeons in circles, where home is the dark
Summer that coils between cracks in the concrete
Liquefied smog brewing deep in the bone
And gray absent eyes, testing virtues of streets
Just litter on sidewalk, where cruel winds have blown
Searching at feet of the crowds who walk by
Waiting for nothing, just a crumb from the sky
………………………………………………………………
Near the horizon the blue hills cascaded in waves,
Over the emerald slopes of rhythmic undulations
Surrounding the hamlet where my home was once.
The flotilla of ivory cloud drifted in cerulean sky where
Amplified joy of my childhood soared with the kites I flew.
Liquefied pearls flowed in the meandering crystal brook,
Girdling the verdant meadow, and from its gentle slope
I sent out paper boats to sail to the distant sea unknown,
Carrying the rainbow tinged teenage fantasy of mine.
Flash from the past glitters even in the twilight hour,
Lingers to brighten up the fading corridor of memory.
As I walk the last mile for the unknown destination,
Suffused with the seamless satisfaction life gave me,
Highly adored childhood treasure I preserve in nostalgia.
December 9, 2020
Contest : Any New Acrostic About Nostalgia
Sponsor : Line Gauthier
Trust ~
a mourning sparrow
f o r s a k e n in the russet rush
of monstrous myths,
clouding the cashmere cusp
of dawn’s delicate arms~
of love’s liquefied thorn.
While I trace the wrinkled rays
on the frozen side of the sun,
where the moon, in silence,
peeks to speak
nothing but dialects of the forgotten ~
ash-laced memories
forged in veins of weeping ice
into the form of this
black diamond heart,
aching in nostalgia,
refusing to break
when your name ~ still dulcet ~
bruised the air
like a fairytale
lost in the wintry wilderness,
as petals of promises wilt,
painting a landscape of lament.
Perhaps
I reigned in the ruins ~
an unthawed queen,
gliding glacier dunes,
played like a pawn,
sculpted in life’s illusions.
I’ve tasted
the flames of Cupid’s
frost-kissed arrows,
while seeking comfort
in checkered longing,
within squares of solitude…
Now I hide honesty
behind chained chambers
of a kingdom
unmoved by jest or foolish games.
They know not
the storm within me,
that weighs heavier
than the crestfallen sparks
mimicking
snow-glazed heartbeats.
Yet I know
what I knew was never reliable ~
imprisoned in gold and pearls,
threatening the throne,
as if destiny drew no other design
for the ones
who sit beneath storms,
singing tunes of tornadoes,
wishing someday
rainbow arcs would shed
their fog,
drip tangerine tones of
lucid lilac
and
carnation clarity ~
O heed these unspoken pleas...
i am honestly drawing a blank
i am struggling to underline the underlying reasons
my head is spinning and the rest of my body is stone still frozen
just yesterday, we were laughing it up and being big ole kids
interrogative sentences are dominating my thoughts
excruciating exclamatory expressions are slowly boiling my body
the bed that she sleeps in is warm and comfortable
the basement sofa that i am sleeping on is old, worn, careless, and cold
i stare at the pitch black darkness and do not notice daylight creeping in
the space has turned into an alternate reality with no close route to escape
i start my day with a liquefied case of babbling bubbleguts
as i head upstairs with an already raw backside, you smile and say good morning
your smile is the prettiest that it has ever been
your routine is as smooth as us getting along on a regular day
before your true inner emotions come out, i grab a cheese danish and an orange juice and head back downstairs
i don't know why i got this stuff for breakfast because i just cannot eat
my stomach is in too many frustration knots
my head is not throbbing from the multiple blanks that i drew throughout the night
i slowly and reluctantly head back upstairs with a prayer bag filled with peanuts
love is a zookeeper with a thick layered itinerary
if it all was so simple, i actually think that i would lose interest and remain ignorant
Go to the sea if you feel slight
On a blue draped dreamy night
When the sliver disc of the sky
Dances with the sea on the sly
Riding silent waves rising high
Reach the moon you would try
Cut slice of still sea on its side
Like the birthday cake liquefied
Drink to celebrate time you got
Someone for you has brought.
The sea would enter you serene
With a piece of moon's silver sheen
That sparkles broken on the wave
A dear birthday gift you can have
And save in your heart’s recess
The waves would drive in pulses
Blue blood in cascading arteries
And transmit harmonic melodies
To the heart that would beat in glee
With the rhythm of the dancing sea
You would invent an abode to reside
Hear songs someone singing inside
For you would be lifted above
The rolling waves silent in love.
Written : August 26, 2017
March 29, 2020
Contest : Strand Choice T, Any Form, Any Theme
Sponsor : Brian Strand
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At first, the sky split like wet paper,
a soundless tear widening~
then came the howl,
not wind but something older,
chomping away at the edges of gravity.
Cities collapsed inward~
skyscrapers bowing like stalks of wheat,
glass raining upward into the maw of clouds.
The ocean stood on its head,
fish gasping in the sudden air,
their silver bodies flashing
like discarded coins.
Somewhere, a child’s laughter
was cut short by the taste of iron,
their mother’s hands clutching at the ground
as it liquefied beneath her.
Dogs howled in unison,
then fell silent,
their throats full of ash.
The tempest had no name,
no reason, only hunger~
swallowing forests whole,
leaving behind teeth marks
in the bedrock.
When it passed (if it passed),
the survivors dug their fingers
into the new earth,
pulling out fistfuls of blackened roots,
wondering if the sky
would ever stop chewing.
They named the silence aftermath,
counted teeth marks on the horizon,
licking their wounds and
tasting the residue of swallowed cities.
The wind, when it returned,
carried only echoes~
not of voices,
but of the absence
that gnawed louder than their hunger.
What grew first were the questions,
twisted as the scorched trees,
bent toward a sun
that no longer recognized them.
The Bowman's Shaft
Solo archer gathers mist of amour clouds, dipping venturous arrow tips in a veiled concocted potion, drowning its mettle in a whimsical bliss of a dreamt liquefied mirage that defines the elixir,
Cupids errant arrow is liberated openly o'er the arc of a rainbow, exuberantly hunting its e'er sought Terra, whereto, it scarcely flutters passed feathered twain turtledoves,
Trifle off-track as projected, titillating a canine whose tail waggles unceasingly as its tongue laps remarkable welcoming faces,
Then piercingly redefines a right-angle course, that mids passionately, a well-managed bramble with shoots flowering in vivid red velvets,
Calculably sailing o'er gray-haired couple, whose one hand hugging canes and their free hands locking each other,
Promised target a fused-kissed envelope proffering treasured eloquence of, Missing You, in numerous expressions, introducing assorted confidences perceived by yearning intrepid bluish eyes whose heart grows e'er fonder.
2019 November 04
*2nd Place*
Metaphor of Love
~~Bobby May