Long Mortalities Poems
Long Mortalities Poems. Below are the most popular long Mortalities by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mortalities poems by poem length and keyword.
On a hillside,far in country
Water edge of dark unforeseen
Like a soul, creatures scurry its depths
Tormented life behind the walls
Trials of endurance, tragedy in lost
Dead of the Soul it lives to feast
Buried like the dead only to be alive
A second breath just to die again
Like a plague devouring our every being
Lost in a world of conflict and love
A demon within covered beneath the skin
Seeking guidance, comfort of existence
The Being within driving the soul's darkness
Like a ghost, a puppet on a string
All I am, eyes of picture past
A future among the God's of mortalities
Drowning myself in sorrow's grief
Blood shed walls emotions speak volume
A dying being crying out the depths
A long time forgotten, escape of reality
Dead of the Soul, vengeance blood drips tasted glory
Inevitability
David J Walker
This is how I turned 20
With plenty of time left to
Opine its wastings awaiting
The sun to set
The weekend to come
Christmas
Birthdays
Summer vacations that
Race past the calendars edge
This is how I turned 30
Looking over a shoulder
To see who is catching up
Who is making up
For past mistakes and
Begging for retakes for the many
Wasted opportunities
This is how I turned 40
Feeling the changes
To my body and
The beliefs scattered over
The spectrum of
What is or
Is not to come
This is how I turned 50
Bracing for mortalities
Callings
Hoping that believing
May facilitate the stalling
Of recompense
On the final tabulation
To come and, oh
Tipping is encouraged
This is how I turned 60
In quiet contemplations
reflections
Concerning the reality of or
The days of coruscate refraction
that belong only to me
Is this how I will turn 70
in the insouciance
of what will be
is the outcome inevitably
predictable
I am the Dark
Silent to unfair Partialities
Subject to Social Vulnerabilities
Witness to Minor Criminalities
Idle to Public Responsibilities
I am the Dark!
Resulting in Mass Atrocities
Waking up to Stray mortalities
Numb to Countless Disparities
Failing to Prevent Cancer Calamities
I am the Dark!
Driven by guilty Estacies,
Working for Common Fantacies,
Outstanding Plans to Briberies
Muted while recognising fake abilities
I am the Dark!
Enough said! Enough not done!
Echos from the Soul!
"Work and Resolve!
Dream and Build!
Volunteer and Give!
Lead and Change!"
Trust in the Light!
Delight the Right!
Whispers cloud the judgment of weakened minds
wreaking havoc with the fragile balance of id and ego
humbling the sprout in its new greenery.
The winds are made of whispers, fear is their home
and each human husk shivers at the sound of them.
The unknown comes in the whispers of dawn,
the burgeoning of night, the bloody bath of birth
and the shriveled skin of the corpses we become.
Whispers cloud the rage of temporal reality
beckoning with their softness, tonguing the ear,
licking the neck too soon stretched on mortalities noose.
Reference Carrie Richards – A Dream in the Mist – line 9 whispered steps
Kiss me when the sun sleeps
when the blazing sun doth rise,
hold my trepid skin timorous
with a requited reassurance
we’ve not been broken
of soulmate incarnate
ecstasy within our grasp
of this comes beautiful
hold me tight, my love
Nirvana’s desaturated shade, awaits
soft pink and warming gray, above
behind a burning turmeric glow
under an apocalyptic sky
brawn banished, lips silenced
after every word is spoken
sanctioned skeletal forms
melded are two mortalities
fusing into one metaphor
birth of man, woman, death infinite’s
earth, wind, fire, water embossed
no diener for dystopia
only death lives in destruction
crimson deserts recreated
ashen corpse servant
no hand his bones shall fall
sealed is our eternal love
our homeland a morgue
ossified cartilage caresses
immortalization in
pulverized sand dunes
touched by the flurries
of vaporized gold dust clusters
opportune eyes fell upon
excavating earth organs ripped open
evil befell the resilient relentless
by all that glittered gold
golden buried stones
by the arid drones
our existence erased
no genogram depiction,
not relevant to treatment
ashen of undying souls
are there more lives,
…what do you think?