Long Maddens Poems
Long Maddens Poems. Below are the most popular long Maddens by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Maddens poems by poem length and keyword.
shipwrecked delirious at 89 bunker street
there lives my cloudberry doll
singing the songs of the blue hour
there lives my chantress with wax wings
my dormant (tor)mentor of keyhole view
reanimér les mémoires d'automne
in cryptic silence of a ramshackle silo
too late! I noticed the pallor of peonies
now here come the sleepers of far-off borders
les visiteurs de minuit,
the soldiers of melancholy
obsessed with sacred orders
and the sleepers shall not be awaken
for their spirits are in a perfect rapture
along with the pain that maddens my brain
that's when the hunter becomes the capture
that's when their sight turns into sick
la gloire ignoré, les yeux fatidique
God is watching you. He is watching me
Whether you are a believer or godless
He is ringing the dinner bell, come home
Heaven's table is crowded with the dead
Stay away a little longer to make room
Don’t do anything to shorten your life
Don’t be in the wrong place at the wrong time
He doesn't seem to care if you run away
Your grave will be your seat at the table
Watch me head to the liquor store instead
How can a Father not see, I need rescue?
I guess that’s what 5150 is for when lost
A shot of Zyprexa to take away loneliness
Is He tempted to reach out to innocents?
He's all powerful, but sent out his broken Son
Leaving me with a devil who watches over me
Making me wonder if its eyes are mine
Shut off my brain calling me home
Perhaps that’s why I reach for the bottle
A pacifier for grown-ups without a guardian
Accept us however we crawl, do more than look
This day has already gone to hell, intervene
I’ll wake up tomorrow fresh as a wilted daisy
Will He look for me when I'm wasted?
Perhaps He'll applaud silently from His last supper
How well I walk to the gallows, weighted down
Tear off my nametag. His touchless gaze maddens
Everyone comes home when their sentence is up
I look up at the cruel sun, but don’t see Him
I just hear the damn triangle banging faith
I begin to see like He does, the utility in a vapor
Why does He make faith so impossible?
I guess I’ll watch my water fall and rise
Like His favorite Son's blood on the cross
Feeling abandoned by his gaze
Those who are cut to pieces
by those bloodthirsty killers.
They cry out ,scream and yell out.
They turn a deaf ear to those
horrific acts.
The deafening silence maddens
even the stony heart.
The wild sea burst into tears.
The bloody ire roars out
an action of revenge.
The fearful dawn is at death's door,
the sun never shines.
Maybe it is defined
a darkness to be their light.
They cut the thread before the Sun
.
I'm deeply saddened by the
bloody ring of the chain that happen to
them.
How inhuman can be a human being?
That cologne was the aroma of her love, I was sure,
Spirit within her crystal-like innocence finely pure;
Innateness born in her at very time of conception,
Divine decorum that pervaded her each perception...!
Herbal, spicy, floral perfume of her perfect psyche,
Within flutter fancies flawlessly like flowery niche;
Cherubim and Seraphim flying midst clouds of heaven,
Fairy of finest form, fascinated in clouds seven...!
And her fleshy fussy feminist fiber and flavor,
That, like satiating honey, ceaselessly I savor;
Beauty within and without; and her virtuous morals,
Amalgamation of wisdom and wit and love-laurels...!
Nail and flesh like combination of care and compassion,
Toward love-filled-reciprocity her endless passion;
These precious pearls have become parts of my lasting treasures,
Fragrance of this frankincense maddens me beyond measures...!
13 July 2022
Rhyme Rumi Quote Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
Festered lament maddens me
Why must the despair of my heart’s desire
Truly enlighten me?
I rested among the sick and lame
And found myself no different from the rest
For a troubled mind holds endless poverty
Penniless regret marks as a sickness no doctor can prescribe
For the bottles of balm are empty
And medicinal hope grows angry
I derived my madness from creativity
Revealing the remains of my humanity
‘Cool off, child’, I heard a soft voice whisper
But can’t you see I live off the flame?
It asks for no nickel or dime!
But it seeks to destroy all the same
The small voice returns at times
And often my heart listens
But we all listen
And only believe in the inevitability of pain
I speak of the majority
Not of you
For you are blessed and beyond disgrace
You have a life—a beautiful face
And most of all, you are rich
With attributes I can only dream of
You are rich with life and purpose
Holding inscrutabilities I can only wish to understand
You lift me without touch or care
Disposing me from your treasures
Because though you meant no harm,
You are rich with blessing
And must remove all possible threats
So my festered lament
Remains an enlightenment
I can say I am rich in poverty
But you are forever rich
In Mystery
What hurts the most is knowing
I may be wrong about you
For you are so obscure in this mind
And as empty as I am I wish to be filled
In your richness
But we all are filled to the brim in the end
And sometimes I cannot distinguish the good from the bad
There is nothing I wish to discard
So I hoard in constant deficiency and despair
And I hoard the idea that you are beyond compare
That you are rich
And always will be richer
Than me—or he
You promised to come back soon
Instead I received your letter of love
You had gone away to hunt for a boon
I am dying to be with you, by Jove.
The message from far away that you sent
Nevertheless fills me with an anticipation
It excites and spreads in air your own scent
In my otherwise forlorn, empty damnation.
Now, in the morning, bright flowers blossom
And in them, I breathe your sweet essence
At night the twinkling stars look awesome
Reminding me of our secret acquiescence.
The distant melodious tune jingles in me
An overpowering presence of you deep inside
The magic of your sweet words maddens me
Tears of joy gush down my cheeks besides.
I forget myself and in the trance of your love
I believe that I am in your strong, safe arms
I belong where you are, as if a hand in glove
My heart only beats for your love and charm.
I am thirsty and your love’s elixir I want to sip
My world now comprises of only waiting for you
Before my patience gives me a big bang and slip
Come soon and embrace me, love, I beckon you.
Date: 6.8.2014
And then ..
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
And then..
The ribbon and the cuff link
Escort the gent..
That annoy
Man about a woman
On the long wait
Of her dress up
But then..
The afterward will
Be splendid
When the deal is done
The beauty of her
Smart on your arm.
Before then ..
She vexes and maddens
And makes the blood boil
Too much wick and tick off
The man go nut's
He is in rut to go.
The stockings go up
The lipstick on.
The right way ?
Thats right
Her head rotate's
"How do I look
Is this colour right"
Inquiry ?
"My hair is sitting
In the chair"
She complains
Her miff continues
As if the mirror foils
Round and round she twist
My blood boils
As she pencils
Her lips red for minutes
Till it ends.
But then !
When she grabs my hand
After make up
The twist starts
And another gent
In the foyer
Get's the goat.
I feel A millionaire
When she leads
Me arm on
In those stilettos
Balanced and poised.
And then..
All worth the wait
We look superb
And me I feel like
the main lion
In the den.
The ribbon on the cuff link
What a hit !
And then
Bling !!
We cream the dance floor
And all the other penguins
Look on ..
Supreme la belle le beau ..
There is a sizzle.
Form:
Constructed, casting a common customary cornerstone
Sublime, super-strong skyscrapers successfully survive
Like many other matters, aren't these too destruction-prone?
They break and fall, partially or wholly, like a beehive.
Composed creatively; catchy; captivating; classic
Mysteriously melodious; maddens many minds.
Wafts in waves as each notation of it is dynamic
Which music, yet, perpetually its prominence finds?
Doesn't the bright sun withhold its vigour in the evening?
Doesn't the waxing moon gradually find its wane too?
Doesn't each flower that blooms fade, having lost its gleaming?
Isn't, like summer or winter, the fall too season's due?
Anyone ascending a ladder should descend as well.
If there's a merry marriage bell, shouldn't there be a knell?