Long Lunging Poems
Long Lunging Poems. Below are the most popular long Lunging by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lunging poems by poem length and keyword.
Born of Spiritual Spasm
We can travel mindfully as with source light,
We can project our sullen spirits outward,
To a timeless harbinger, born of spiritual spasm,
Left invisibly on the shiny star of suburban Formica,
And now we are flying through the pull of the maelstrom,
Traversing cosmically toward a bristling bicuspid,
The standard source,
The standard ending point,
Where tired eyes find solace in the lateral moonlight,
Where trusted voices lend understanding in the sinewy shadows,
Asleep now as the Colorado dead,
Sleeping and sunken now in their timeless tombs,
Alive as the everlasting sleep, this girly sleep,
As it lurches like a ghost gazelle into the soft entrances,
Lunging and leaping into the dark, abandoned residences,
Coldly forgotten amidst the green serpentine vines,
We can sense the emerging timeless harbingers,
We can recognize the unending, standard sources,
Of the bristling bicuspids buried with the Colorado dead,
Sleeping and sunken now in the lateral moonlight.
Boys carry their snow sleds
up, up
to the highest peak
scaling risk
their voices pitched
chattering noise of expectation
frozen giddiness on snow packed hills
boys belly flop onto plastic sleighs
bubble-headed jauntiness launches them
lunging down, down
bewildering "swish" of speed
smashing white drifts
projectiles scattered
boys tossed in snowbanks like pizza dough spinning
baked together in joy
pushing the balance of extreme
runs repeated
brash, blunt, bold
epic span of freedom
ignoring downfalls from ill timed moves
in a lost sense of direction
gleefully tired
snow flecked
boys wheeze the icy air
make their way home
their talk clotted with bravado
beneath it, the unspoken promise to never tire
of boyhood
in twilight, the slopes gleam
gouged by sled marks
that clear a path for growth
targeted direction
and if boys fall from the path
are there souls
who'll notice?
when ruts threaten
when sleds teeter
in unruly spaces
Poem composed February 2, 2022
Pulled together
by a magnetic avoidance of loneliness,
fueled by an insatiable ardor
to evade a shortage of love.
Mutually splintered souls searching
for a place to embed and
implement a façade which conceals
mutilated minds.
Spurious attempts to disarm
the timebomb which is his mouth.
Futile efforts to escape
a mental cage
inflicting frightening fingerprints
on a shatter-able soul.
Cautionary writings on the walls
of his guise,
demanding subservient devotion.
Loud lashings from his slick tongue,
contradicting confessions of love and hate,
whilst ransacking an insubordinate mouth,
by extorting an opening through
quivering lips.
Transient,
insincere apologies
fall on deaf ears,
between briny tears plunging
down an anguished face,
debunking the reverie
that this is how love
is meant to taste.
A dismaying omen
predicting the dawn
of the end,
disguised as a single round, white dose
of insentience
aggressively shoved down
through tortured glottal wails.
Convulsive crying gives way
to comatose disposition,
displayed on a cold cement altar -
a sacrificial lamb laid out
for torturous vindication
of his deprived need
to strip of honor,
by forcibly desecrating
incontestable,
incapacitated remains.
An ungainly desperate last resort -
running with lead-like legs from a known enemy.
Flashes of head- lights and white painted lines,
don’t hinder a final attempt
at liberation or eternal rest.
Flashes of cold, dim swells of pain,
preferred,
over the clinging clutches of oppressive
maniacal hands,
lunging at the opportunity to subdue.
A harsh awakening -
in his lair.
A morning after like no other.
Hues of black and blue on
pale, dehydrated dermal layers,
serve as confirmation
of an undeniable recollection
of hair-raising anamnesis.
Painful retrospection
inciting an unrelenting
concluding confrontation -
never again
the victim will I be.
At the darkest hour of night
Before night shadows
Steal across the wall of darkness
Into the welcoming hands of dawn;
As with defecting soldiers
At Korea's demilitarized zone
With my spoke,
I stoked the fire
Sending it's glamorous flame
Spiraling, hissing, revolving and tumbling
Like a million ocean waves,
Unraveling itself in its splendor;
Surging, splurging and lunging forward
Like a roaring lion
Seeking to subdue it's helpless prey
We encamped around the fire
At the village ilo
Titled men of Onicha ugbo,
Telling tales of valor
To psyche themselves
To the point of equilibrium
As men saturated in a binge
Of snuff, kola-nut and red bull,
With eyes of fire,
Await words of armistice
From Ukwunzu village
Drenched in the momentous suspense
Characterized by the uncertainty and promise
Which sneak in with dawn
As night tired limbs,
Like a ship gliding through
A voluptuous Ocean,
Navigates the unwinding path of darkness,
Devouring it copiously,
Seeking with desperation
To berth at dawn's
Promising shores
Our despair turns to fear,
Fear begets ambivalence
And uncertainty translates
To aspirations for
Dawn's hopeful uhuru
What sorcery is afoot in the woods on this October night?
I stir a few embers, and relight myself
The humans asleep or dead, I don’t care which
I am alive, a fire phoenix, replenishing my absoluteness
An owl hoots a warning, trying to wake them up
I begin to dance, as warmth spreads throughout my timbers
Sure, you thought I was dead, but surprise.
I am replenishing myself, understanding no one else will
Sparks! A joy overtakes me as hope and optimism arrive
A flash of yellow, on her way to becoming full out red.
A flame. I scream with happy pops and smacks.
Bam! I am once again a full blown blaze.
Why do these campers never put me out completely?
Do I care? I am leaping, lunging, laughing, loving myself.
My yellows and oranges are dazzling the entire forest.
My flame shadows light up the tents of the sleeping.
I am mystical, magical, ethereal, an alchemist, a sorcerer.
How will they react when they realize I have again
Forsaken them, and burned up another forest thanks to them?
I am impassioned, alive, a full blown pyromaniac of a fire!
Sylphs, Fairies, Imps, Sprites
Moonlighting on the dark side
Bitstreaming the Night
Ology fractured
Today's Client, a new breed
That's the business
Mushrooming sales, sniffs
Crystal, clear intent
To manufacture
-oting with money
At the Poles, even my wife
There's Aurora now
Lunging from darkness
Retro grade it forward, Ho
Think plunges work well
Everything's for sale
Well, Specially People, Hell
Got a few right here
Ever since Biden
Been no need for deception
Magic, fade to black
That's a rap people
Cut it, print it, Sell it high
I miss the old days
Video stores, love
Obeying Constitutions
Common decency
If I could reach within myself and pull out my soul
a freed spirit on which wings grow
soaring high and pierce the blue sky
into the universe fly
the cosmos rhythm and rhyme
old and new as time
where whatever was or will be
eyes open for me to see
Star steps I walk upon
witness the birth of dawn
and dive into the abyss
a-washed in dusk's mist
twirl into the void
grasp the ladder with joy
ascend with wings unfurl
into the creation of worlds
Heaven could this be
I fall to my knees
and bow into eternal light
my soul glows forever bright
Paradise knowing all
I begin to fall
my wings fold and fail
into bottomless hell
with dark souls lunging for me
blue flames all I see
eyes closed in fetal position
swirling without direction
My screams make me awake
was it a dream or an escape
mortal man forsake
Star steps cannot take
is it meant to be
in the garden an apple falls from the tree.
If ever we needed to ventilate,
it is now…the thickening tragedy
of lies have become too heavy
for the respiration of living truth…
Indeed…the dire situation
has reached lunging capacity
and the alveoli of reality
are sparking gut-wrenching
diarrheic retribution…
Breathe people…breathe…
check the yellowing mane…
strings of manipulation pulling
thin loose-lips of a sinking ship…
Breathe people…breathe…
the corona of truth shines
its bright light of truth…glowing
around the dark moon of deceit
of Americanism’s tragic turn…
Be mindful… people …scapegoats
come and go…in God, we must trust…
rather than loaning our sacred lives
to ill-fated government iniquities…
As believers—in the Lenten resurrection—
let us be about the business of resuscitation
of our beloved dying nation—yes …ours—built
by the blood-brick masonry of our Ancestors…
Absent Motility Against Staid Inertia
impossible to describe listlessness
bedeviling this body electric aye attest
motivation to counter glumness
seizes motility temporarily
to stave off staid purposeless at best,
yet aware poetic obfuscation chest
barely delineates fierce hopelessness
assailing me,
when'r awake and/or at everest
feeding melancholy feedback loop
sparring against faintest
momentum - writhing psyche,
asper an unwelcome guest
emotional friction
bringing motionlessness,
where lunging futility
summoning ability
to muster joie de vivre
defeated willpower
no matter mental health
propped up
with pharmacological medications
prescribed by Doctor George Adams be hest,
yet tis NOT suicide, but general malaise
as if poison (or stung by a scorpion) jest
permeates thy being
sparking existential angst
hoop fully communicating figurative soffits
facilitating emotional bulwark lest
ye coon sitter
this lix spittled chap messed
up in the head, but also that empty nest
syndrome - a bird den, and nefarious pest
disallowing merrily rowing my boat
subjected to turbulence that doth wrinkle
space/time continuum quest
punctuating any attempt
to take fig yurt heave Newtonian rest
without being assailed
of drab quotidian predictability
re: envious papa
towards daughters adventurous lives
he rejoices (albeit vicariously)
respective lives where offspring lasso lassitude,
viz both their electric kool aid acid test
how fate didst in vest
waning wily woebegone zest!
By train, plane, by wings,
I hear the angels sing.
Their featherbell sleeves,
golden flutterbies weave
in mind-blowing confection.
I remember the affection
for long distance kin and kith —
missing links that make me writhe,
and Niagara Falls - its plunging
neckline, of psychedelic rainbows, lunging
catapult of sentiment and mist.
The kiss of sunflowers on smiling lips,
cruising excursions, explorations then kips.
The reward of sleep in the rocking cabin -
the deep with its sonorous spin.
Let the feathers fly! In travel, they win
and at last I’ll be calm of Hesperus dreams,
those dreams that come apart at the seams.
I hold tightly to sleeves, that cure of Spring,
a blizzard of lucid color that true living brings.
3/5/2021
Couplets - most with rhymes