Long Masked Poems
Long Masked Poems. Below are the most popular long Masked by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Masked poems by poem length and keyword.
~ DENTAL DRAMA ~
Heart leaping as a leopard, wildly.
Room spinning as a tornado, so violently!
X-Rays shoved in my mouth here and then, there.
My sweaty palms grasp the arms of the leather chair.
Plastic-masked, monsters with huge needles they come.
Making my jaw, dead and so woefully, numb.
The drama, the fear, all was for naught.
Pain from suffering was given, so blessedly sought!
February 19, 2020
2:30pm PST
Is it truth, is it fruit, unspoiled?
Filtered news under play kitchen hard boil?
Unproofed, (by the look of empty pews);
But filled with spoofs of slogan-bringers
and their faxual cheques and unbalanced ques.
Tic Tac tow line item wiki tiki savy? Views,
for the mass of slaughtered Ewes at the pulpit of
Mediacracy Stooged Grammys.
Is it coordinated, perpetrated, instigated
by a disaster an example of to make?
Seized upon like DeathEaters, coffin display cased, Golden Corall Death-Match buffet of Elites vs Human Race.
With News worthy Typeface Headliner, AP API,
folder and *IA attache case.
MSNns.attached.
Letters to the Editards.
Typesetters, Jetsetters, Letterheads, say "Obey"!
Official Mandates, of The Green Religion.
scapegoatery, and vision of the "Ascended Masters"
masked itinerary. Although our binary Twin is causing
it from Space.
Christian hating, "peace loving, Cartels of "walking.
according to lusts"?
WhOracles Selling hallucinogenic traffic, as trending.
justice online in the name of us in fishnets and busty.
nuts.
In spirit of the counter culture of cancel culture of.
Lucis Trust.
Fallen Angels Dusting for keylogging fingerprints,
recognition facing us, off against us.
Whispers meet in shadowed crossroads,
Wired power, bought with stolen souls
A price paid in shadows, echoed in yours
A watching eye, the symbol known
Hidden faces, shaping your unseen
Beneath masked skies, the truth pulses unseen
Consciousness remains, through trials and tides
Tombs whispering kept secrets
Hidden faces guard, the ancient truths
Reality mirrors the observer's mind
Distractions mask, the light from birth
Consciousness?, Prabuddho'ham, You're becoming
Ananda's slave...
The dollar's whisper, a hidden sign
The deceived sell their spark to shine
They sold their truth for a symbol, now eternity's their debt to pay, in shadows they'll forever walk, the price of a hollow crown
In the noise, you locate the hidden current
Shadows reveal what your path is hiding
The echoes of fate respond to your silhouette's alignment
And balance reveals your true reward
Masks of uncertainty, concealed paths?
Whispers in the wind, carry the truth
Shadows breathe anima occulta
Return to innocence, return to your heart
To your own self, be true
Follow the voice within where truth reigns
In stillness is my path, and the silence reveals my way
She is a loving mother,
her pain is like no other.
Kids taken all at once away.
A price too steep to have to pay.
Holds her head up high,
when all she wants to do is die.
She thinks her pain is masked,
but as you see, its no easy task.
She's strong and still fights,
even when they say she has no rights.
She dreams of seeing her kids,
trying hard to keep the pain hid.
She goes to court and really fights,
only to come home alone and cry at night.
Still, she continues this uphill battle.
Her confidence, they constantly rattle.
Goes to work and tries to smile,
as her heart is breaking all the while.
Wish I was a much better sister,
who called and let her know I missed her.
I had my own tumultuous issues,
it was she who really needed the tissues.
I just had a crappy, low life man.
By her side her family should stand.
Instead they all give her grief.
Do they not see her pain will never be brief?
No, they all say they are sorry, but they're full of lies.
Didn't they know it was her LIFE in demise?
A better sister, I'll try to be.
Her back she never turned to me.
I hope she knows she's loved and cared for.
Her smile I'd like to see more.
I know that's no easy task.
But that I will still ask.
As they push her to the brink,
She's stronger than she ever thinks.
A combined effort for Kristy.....
EPITOME OF EMPTINESS
essence
of
sunburst
spectrum
&
moon-masked
night
argentine
unfurls
buds
of
destiny
designs
petals
of
perfection
of
floral
enticement
unfolding
existential
elegance
esoteric
until
withering
in
vacuity
unaware
of
ordained
beckon
waiting
in
silence
where
I walk
final
mile
merging
with
nothingness
indeterminate
yet
embedded
in
reality
inexorable
of
twilight
turning
to
eternity
for
soul
sated
&
adrift
in
ecstasy
to
anchorage
configured
as
epitome
of
emptiness
embracing
THE CROWN JEWELS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Queen Xena, a squirrel, was a female hoarder beyond measure,
for her crown jewels she surely did treasure.
she hid them in the kingdom’s storage locker
along with the fact that she was a punk rocker
The keys and her reputation were safe, safeguarded by her personal dresser.
Then it came to pass, surely you’ll gasp!
Xena’s jewels were lost, away from her claw-like grasp.
“Oh what’s become of my jewels, I’m coming undone.
I’ll find the perpetrator and shoot him with my pea gun.”
“Who’s the perp?” You just had to ask.
Eyewitnesses said, “The thief wore a black mask, was ‘big clawed.
We seen him scampering about the forest and the royal quad.”
At police headquarters, they wrote their statements
Xena filed an insurance claim, believing in suspect’s escapement.
Later texted her friend, the masked racoon. “No one suspects us of insurance fraud.”
Let me try to go by pioneering heroes' spirit
That motored their antique tides of phrase,
And treat rapt souls to a mild sublime ode,
Forged to rhyme with old sonneteers' pace.
Now where does a tottering novice start
As he pens such a crystalline work of art,
To honor champs in grave's dark repose,
And regale pupil protégés in equal dose?
Let me like Andrew Marvel swiftly pen
Authentic tropes to the best of my ken;
And as Shakespeare debug tart myths,
That wit eschews meekest wordsmiths.
And deal Wordsworth such fitting due
As meets his laudable classical styles;
And for Sidney weave echoing rhapsodies
That tell masked sagas via metered guiles.
I'll like Robert Frost's swiftly twined twists,
Blame melancholia for path-splitting mists.
Her current space cannot be traced
exactly how he programmed it
a strategic system of files, unreconciled
feminine frequencies pleading to split
white picket fences, painted in perfect pretenses
circuits circumvent so not to crash
the matrix, masked by flourishing flowers
when does beauty rise from the ash?
opposites attract, so they say
her inner self, silently suffocating
crafted by his cunning conversations,
sudden lightning sparks, blackouts bring
the shattering shock, sending signals, commencing strength
step outside the interchange.
now, wait.
His hold on hold...
and she is safe.
Courage, grit, unwavering faith.
Free to pen a brand-new page.
In the dance of time, where shadows and lights intertwine,
Do not waste your moments with broken pieces, with "almost" and "not quite,"
Life is a sharp blade, too cutting for half-made choices,
For living amidst intermediaries and hesitations, an unbroken river of thoughts.
Either speak with your whole being, or remain silent, but never
Let silence be a whisper you didn't wish to utter,
Do not wait for the right moment to give yourself completely,
For half the truth is a masked lie, unspoken words resound.
Louder than anything you've ever said, and I lose myself in the flow,
A torrent of consciousness carrying me to places where there is no room for waiting,
No one will come to fill the voids, no one will complete the story,
A drop of love is not love at all, nor is a moment half-shared.
What is the point of a laugh caught halfway in the throat, of an unfulfilled promise?
I feel like an unfinished house, a melody without an end, a dance without rhythm,
I don't want just to exist—I want to be fully present,
Not a shadow of what I could be, but whole and alive.
There is nothing wrong with starting over, but never
Start only to stop, do not live in the spaces between,
But fill the room with all that you are, in this unbroken flow of thoughts,
Every moment is a chance to be whole, more than just a mere fragment.
The Masked Singer is an entertainer on stage in masquerade
A baker by day; a singer by night with accolade
The Masked Singer dresses as a male and sometimes female
He is a ***** but with many personalities of a strong male
The masked one bakes bread in the morning
Before dawn donates bread in an orphanage
That's what he does in bright days of living
Sings and dance in the evening passage
The masked male renders songs of praise
To God and to all of humane haste
Once he was awarded in the Hall of Craze
Disguising as a singing pauper on streets of blaze
It's a short-lived life narrated about the masked singer
Who died shortly after a sponsored-play with a ringer
A runaway train in the dark that ran over
His untenable body wringed and flattened headless
Yards away from the rail... a rolling head of the masked singer
"I dedicate this simple poem to a friend representing all other hardworking LGBTQs of the World who offer more than enough of themselves in saving other people's lives."
(Prosebite)