Long Morbid Poems
Long Morbid Poems. Below are the most popular long Morbid by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Morbid poems by poem length and keyword.
Tired of sterilized poetry
And endless odes to beauty
Though life is so full of these
And everything sweet to please
There is a much darker side
Where sorrow and pain reside
Where shattered dreams do haunt
Rejection and madness taunt
Tired of sterilized poetry
That tells an idyllic story
Where life's as it’s meant to be
And sunshine is all you see
What about the living hell
Souls under an evil spell
Where fear rears its morbid head
Monsters terrorize in bed
Tired of sterilized poetry
Where love’s a sweet mystery
Passion’s power is hush hush
Euphemisms used too much
Where people do not care
Their souls’ desires to bare
So afraid of being real
Or allowing hearts to feel
I’m tired of sterilized poetry
That shows the hero’s glory
Ignores the losers who bleed
And the hungry ones in need
That pretends life is alright
And there is no endless night
That’s perfumed with flowers fair
Not the stench of evil’s lair
I’m tired of sterilized poetry
A fairytale like story
What of the blood, sweat and tears
And the tales of wasted years
Betrayal sealed with a kiss
Everything good gone amiss
I’m tired of sterilized poetry
There’s more of what’s meant to be
Let poems speak of real life
Highlight agony and strife
Shades of sexuality
Degrees of conformity
Speak of you and speak of me
The thirst for eternity.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
It’s terrible to be in my shoes
While you live your never-ending nirvana…
Shedding good news
You’ll live to meet your demise…I see your flaw!
This want of freedom is beyond description
I need to hold your hand…this is a hard decision
Lead me to a dazzling land
Don’t be afraid; don’t move a muscle
I understand…I understand…
I cannot provide you with any insight,
But remain prudent
Remain content
For the time being…and lay on someone else’s shoulders
Rely on your intuition…and fulfill your ambition
Hold on to your gift of healing
Without letting go…
Letting go…
Open wide your mouth,
So I can fill it up with positivity
There’s no point in crying…
No point in lying…
There’s a chance for you
To drown your misery…
This uncertainty…this morbid envy
Reigns over me…
I got to overcome these dark enmities
This failure mindset…this horrid melancholy
Grows inside me like a cancer
You ask of me silence as I Rome
Saint peters square gathering hymns
beneath Di Vatican where Satan sits
in solitude a prisoner of haste awaiting
a time to live a time to give malice a
wretched sea urchins filled with rapture
borrowed by solace envy kackling carny
unfolding aimlessly becoming nothing in the
eyes of God sending chills of fear weathered
under the soil sandals of the child of God wrath
behold the tyranny engraved over the watchers
minds eye calling to pontius pilates consciousness
professing goodness portraying the death of Christ
from a morbid dream shared by his wife come to me
now seek truth return void from your sinful actions
hatred devoured love conquered an yet I am still here
Her hair, blonde, is twisted in the wind.
The whipping strands are the colors
of the shinning cropland
by which she is standing. She is alone
by this golden feed that is bounteous; wholesome as breast milk, as youth.
Her young face is turned away,
though her face is radiant like the Sun,
her tresses the flames..
(Perhaps her locks are more like the hue
of the gold sought by the pioneers of the 1800's Gold Rush. Then again, no..)
Her face has freckles that are sorrel-dusky
sun-spots as the star roasts the "spires"
of the semolina(wheat).
The schoolgirl is poised,
the saffron spelt(wheat) is erect
under the royalty of the thermic Summer
empyrean(sky)-wherein a solitary cloud
is a blossom, full of grace,
yet a cloud is never delicate like the flower-
and the girl's tale is morbid..
as is the cancer caused by the sunshine.
The future Harvest is burned as the Sun
kills the land..the young lady
reaps an unquenchable lust 'til the cessation
of zoetic puissance.
Yet the flowerly nebula
becomes a cloudburst..
the sunlight shimmers;
her cilium(hair)
metamorphoses into gilt lavaliere(jewelry)-
a gleaming tiara.
And the ignited pedicle(stalks)
bend as the rain-drops sparkle. And yet
a maiden crown of light-
her fair-haired halo-travails a genesis,
within which the roots of the Earth
glaciate,
within which her strameneous mane
becomes like straw, easily snapped;
and is now shivery split ends.
'
I'd bloomed from the warm glow in his eyes.
He had been my sunlight when darkness loomed.
His arms protected me, for he was my safe haven,
but too soon, the light faded from his hazel eyes,
and his voice, a gasp when drawing a breath.
His life was pilfered by Death, the morbid thief.
Stolen from us were Utopian days of splendor.
The painful loss is a burden I must endure,
uncertain of how I will face tomorrow alone.
I wept in silence until the bronzed edge of twilight
chased prisms of light from pastel skies.
A shroud of gloom veiled the wound in my heart
as I felt the gatekeeper gently touch my arm.
Layers of cold black earth now separated us.
I still held the red rose I'd brought for his coffin.
Streaks of tears washed blush from my cheeks,
while I shivered in fear without his hand to hold.
I was years older since morning had dawned,
wilting like the spray of lilies, heads drooping.
They were withered and dying, their beauty lost.
Once vibrant and sweet, their fragrance fading,
they lie on a grave for which they were grown.
On alabaster marble, my finger traced his name,
wishing love's affliction could somehow be rescinded.
I was at the impasse where life and death collide.
I stood, but left my crushed red rose on the chair,
for unable was I to whisper 'goodbye.'
February 5, 2021
Break My Heart, Why Don't Cha Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Of thee virtual netherland...
courtesy one spellbound wordsmith
within apartment b44
nestled within a manor
(and manner of writing)
atop nondescript Schwenksville highland.
All gibbets zing aside
I got noose for you,
yours truly enjoys harmless chide
ding even kibitizing about,
when cessation of consciousness occurs
leaving terrestrial plane
frequently incorporates divine spirit as guide
absolute zero escape
regarding death to override.
Oft times ('specially
these latter unsainted days and nights)
death doth haunt me atheistic zeitgeist
which thoughts of my demise
crowds out purposeful thinking
in the twitching mind kempf
paradigm of this atheist
hence, he betook himself
to this MacBook Pro,
while swiss side dull ideations
for professional intercession,
deadline could not wait
asper affecting s cathartic,
emetic, harmonic tete a tete
and providing a meaningful surrogate
to expunge morbid mental state
accessed Open Office
and let fingers (of left hand)
do talking heads
to an imaginary therapist
across this qwerty keyboard
allowing, enabling, and
at the quickest typing rate
striving to cap cha dismal, gloomy,
and ill lust tree us deplorable
mood aye equate
with pitching into
a bottomless abyss where pate
fed ceaseless diet of NON GMO –
a last repast
the grim reaper did orchestrate
gluten free, an extra heavy dose
of monosodium glutamate
which ingredient doth
BuzzFeed thine appetite
for total mortal exterminate
'thou no need fermi to rush,
where angels fear to tread,
cuz tis better late
than never, the apothegm,
credo, ethos...foreign ha Kate
the caterer maintains
an open exit from life,
and cares only
that each soul doth feel elan,
joie de vivre, and psalm times
a leaper chants, ecstatically finally
gustatory humming don't jubilate
for your final homecoming, or else
the mailer daemon lived
a devilish life will instigate
a de coup age d'etat,
but such extreme
measure for measure heed doth hate,
yet exceptions always made for a date
particularly when henchmen to die for
golden opportunity
to snatch a generic guy a create
an underground soiree will cease,
when ashes master
of hell raising circumstances
twill use as bait
let underground missionary be advocate.
Life, here hangs on a filmy thread of hope
Unskilled acrobats, making tight rope walks
With the deep chasm gaping below
Some too fatigued to feel the stress
Empty beds bearing
The scars of lost battles,
Shaded rooms brooding in the gloom,
Pervading silence speaking mutely
Of burnt hopes and dreams,
The morbid stillness occasionally broken by
Stifled groans and whimpers.
In a corner room, he lay,
A dead heap upon the bed,
With no one to keep vigil,
Loneliness, his only companion!
Crowds of fans queued up once
To have just a glimpse of him!
Now suddenly grown older
With all energy vanquished,
He stares into the claws of Death.
His frail emaciated body,
Rejecting the drops of toxic drugs,
The dried up neurons refusing
To send signals to the brain,
Eye balls sinking deep,
Cheek bones sticking out,
Tentacles of cancer tightening hold
On every lobe of his lungs,
He lay- on his bed,
A dead log tossed by the currents
Moving in and out of consciousness
He finally slipped into the snares of Death.
The vanquished soldier exited out,
Sans songs, sans fanfare!
________________________________
Sept. 24.2022
Honorable mention in Brian's Contest
~ Placed First~
One from the Dark Side Poetry Contest
Sponsor- John Lawless
Bad luck could hit hard…
It’s difficult to catch a flash of glory…
Unfortunately, we end up with the wrong side of the coin
It’s tricky to snatch eternal glee…
I wish I could increase your motivation and prove your significance
But I have none that I own – you made a big impact on me believe it or not
I want to grant you success…or I’ll let God work His magic
I have the passion to accomplish my jubilant goals – I just got to be energized…
Be strengthened and have self-reliance
I prey upon confidence…
I pray for your dreams to fall into place…
I have no choice, but to find my way out of this labyrinth…
OUT OF THIS MESS…
Suffocating me in harsh distress…
Dissatisfaction could shatter your hope
We are fading… we’re fragments
Escalating ferociously…
It’s almost impossible to remain at ease during these hard times…
Fortunately, we have a chance to be on the right side of the coin
The most difficult part of living is…
Dealing with the outrageous crimes
Bad luck
Is totally a morbid result in life’s situations…
I believe that you could endure
The catastrophe that burnt up your
Last drop of courage…
What a tragedy you turned out to be…
Your morbid luck drained out your bliss
And inflated you with squalid misery…
Your morbid luck dragged you
Into the abyss………
They told me to tell it like it is
Not knowing I'm quite the wiz
Spilling magic on this page
With the wisdom of a mage
Darkness fills up the world
As chaos and discord are unfurled
We didn't pursue a righteous path
And now we feel nature's wrath
From hurricanes to floods
As Russia spills innocent blood
The world has given in to insanity
As we slowly lose our humanity
The news has us hating each other
So now it's brother against brother
It's all so very sordid
And the outcome is morbid
While the billionaires lorded
Record profits they hoarded
Can anyone else hear the call
Even the Romans can see the fall
But we still have the gall
To think we can stall
The fall of it all
The writing's on the wall
We used to dream and have hope
But those same dreams are torturous as we try to cope
Knowing it's game over for the American Dream
And now we all just want to sit here and scream
I wanted to share written magic
But the truth is it's all so tragic
Because it's tough to be in the biz
Of telling it like it is
But somebody has to do it
The ones who went through it
Truthfully, the ones who blew it
And deep down we knew it
I collected my feelings off the shelf
So I need you to look deep inside yourself
Can you say it from the chest
That you're doing your best
Can you find it in your very core
That you couldn't be doing more
Because I know I could be
And I think you will see
You could be too
But it's not a reason to feel blue
I just have to tell it like it is
We have to tell it like it is
10/28/2022
mystique mist
of opaque veil
designs in desolation
amorphous ambiguity
swathes with singularity
penultimate pathway
obscure
at terminal time-post
of future crypt
a m b I g u o u s
sunset swansong
in transient twilight
resonates
in void valley
of abandoned present
silhouetted still
on somber skyline
of indigo filigree
morphing into
melancholic epithet
e n g r a v e d
turmoil threads
embroider morbid motif
at pallid tassel
of obsessed clouds
latticed by passion clumps
with fervor fringe
f r a y e d
sensuous storm
from onyx horizon
ornate once
with halcyon hues
constructs chameleon chimera
of configured illusion
on yearning canvas
ablaze in cold flame
of dormant desire
f r o z e n
memory menagerie
from burnt relic
flies away
in wasteland whirlwind
u n b o u n d
hope shards adrift
in poignant current
of fluid psyche
ductile
flow flustered
in sullen stream
of billion teardrops
in twilight terrain
reminiscent
of remnant rays
of sublime sunset
shape shifting
to intuition violin
r e s o n a n t
symphony echoes
the last vibrato
behind fallen curtain
for the lone audience
latent concerto
suffuses listless life
with tuneful resonance
of sonorous sanguinity
e t e r n a l