Long Muffle Poems
Long Muffle Poems. Below are the most popular long Muffle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Muffle poems by poem length and keyword.
.. and these distrustful thighs
From this heart that shan't lie
Lips that shan't diss
Eyes that shan't blink
Hands that succumb will
Lord save me
From those things that tangle
Ones that dazzle
Like the moon it tussles
I do nothing but muffle
Make my body rumble
No choice but cuddle
For 30 shekels of silver
Or 100 agarot to ease her
Lord save me
Since you've made me
I was ok with my ribs getting aged
Lord save me
From this slippery hair,
On a sleepy head
which illuminates not
But we slumber thus
.. in cleavage that torments
She that ensnare
this apple that we ate
From that which was forbade
that I can't evade
Man is greed
This paradox he found
Lord save me
Paradise i lost, she I found
Where will I be hence?
Her tanks won't let me rest
Like paradise it tents
Now 'me awaits my comeuppance'
What is next..?
Banished to hell
Or what do you call earth?
Another chance they said
More sins or less?
Day joined to expired day,
nights lost to darkest night.
Another year has defected
to the phalanx arrayed against us,
their iron hooves now thundering,
their sheer number mocking
our plundered ranks.
Do we then muffle our laughter,
and await the slaughter?
Do we extend our wrists,
by the flood of years barnacled,
offer them to the tides to be manacled?
But no, we shall not forfeit the coming dawns,
nor grovel before time’s ghastly taunts.
Let us thumb our noses at these turncoat hours,
so their cackles shall forever be jarred by our song,
their armors singed by our bonfires,
and their bloating flesh branded with our footprints!
Let us empty ourselves into tomorrow
until we’ve drained our marrow,
so that the moons shall remember
that one sepia heartbeat in time
when we rose to the smiting hand,
again and again,
until we were deaf
to our hearts’ murmurs
and blind to the stars.
Silence.
For over thirty years he longed for a night free from the snoring that her sinuses caused.
Foolishly, he thought he could sleep much better if the grating sound did not echo in his ears.
Now he lies restlessly, unable to sleep in the silence.
Darkness.
The pillow he often placed over his head to muffle the sounds coming from the other side of
the bed,
Also helped shield his eyes from the glow emitted from the nightlight she could not sleep
without.
Now he lies anxiously in the darkness with the unplugged light laying harmlessly on her bed
stand.
Unencumbered.
His uncontrollable habit of wiggling his foot at night, which helped him fall asleep,
He consciously had been suppressing because the motion bothered her rest.
Now, free to wiggle in the empty bed, he lied motionless, too tired to move.
How he longed to hear the snoring he once thought he detested.
How he wished he could gaze upon the outline of her sleeping body in the shadows cast by
the nightlight.
How he desired to feel her elbow poke him in the side to still his gyrating foot.
The silence; the darkness; the freedom to move;
What he once considered long lost friends were now his enemies.
The sleep lost due to the sounds, the light and the restrictions on movement were a small
price to pay for having her by his side.
Now that he is free to sleep in peace – he cannot.
He misses her too much and the pain in his heart will prevent a restful sleep for a long time
to come.
After her mother died she watched her father begin to fade away.
He was always a quiet man, reserved, polite…soft spoken.
but now he hardly ever said a word…she could see his heart was broken.
When he did speak…it was only in whispers…he told her silence was his choice.
He did not want a sound…any sound…to muffle the memory of her voice.
When she asked him why he stopped his morning walks…he smiled,
“I am happy sitting here…thinking about her.”
“Besides,” he smiled, “my feet aren’t as trustworthy as they used to be…It seems they don’t know where to go without her.”
She stopped by every day to comfort him…the father she adored…but with each visit he seems a little sadder…a little older…he seemed to fade away a little more.
Until the day she came and found him in his favorite chair…his favorite place…he’d gone to be with her mother…and for the first time in a long time…he had a smile on his face.
“Goodbye, Daddy.” She said kissing his cheek…then laying her head inside his palm…”Have a safe trip…and when you get to Heaven…say Hi for me…to Mom.”
Then glancing down she smiled through her tears…as she whispered, “I’ll miss you Daddy…but I am happy knowing…even though it took a while…you’re feet know where they’re going.
It is the longest night.
We tread gently through the wood,
Feather moss and beech leaves
Amber soft under foot
Dampen and muffle the rustle of our winter coats.
There's a snap of the twig
And a flutter of woodpigeons lift,
As if applauding the return of the sun.
We watched them fly
Through the crackled glaze of bare branches -
“As our lanterns burn bright,
Our feet seek safe ground.”
We bow low to the Holly,
King of the winter,
Bejewelled with berries and crowned in thorns,
Hosting a chiming of wrens,
Who herald our journeying
In bursts of sing-song -
“Fa-la-la-la-la!”
Onward through the valley
We step into the footprints of darklings,
Deer, fox and badger.
Cross pilgrim paths where flints glint,
As if iridescent tiny tombstones
For the butterflies and dragonflies of summers long passed.
“Our lanterns shine bright,
Our feet find safe ground,
We walk without fear
In the dark all around.”
At the heart of the wood
We gather near the great oak,
And together we light a fire.
Watch as ribbons of flame
Caught from flashes of sparks,
Illuminate our faces in the cinder glow of midwinter.
Alongside us, pixie-cup lichens wassail a promise of spring
An oath as unbreakable as our human cups of plastic and tin.
With mulled apples, honeyed and spiced
We welcome light in.
Feast upon pastries of fruits in a marzipan of delights.
Feeling blessed with good cheer,
We start the new year.
Driving home in the car,
From the road I see stars of wonder.
I see trees a-glisten with tinsel.
Windows lit golden under twinkling eaves.
I am sure I can hear, and the wind whispers, “listen”
As I opened the door,
An echo once more, held soft in the still of night –
“May your light shine bright,
May your feet walk safe ground,
May you seek without fear,
May you like what you found.
Stay near to each other,
Offer comfort and cheer,
Come back to the woods,
Each solstice, each year.”
An unexpected burst of energy
helped fashion a second poem he
ving up from deep within the key
per of Matthew Scott's ideas - nee
i.e. unexpectedly manifesting que
cull lee coalescing, buta not three
endeavors crafted since quota we
kind to exhaust passion before zee...
land revisited, when
a call for shot eye
guarantees, a dearth of ideas
will no longer fly
with plentitude, whereby
exertion from this guy
will necessitate to type
briskly before hie....
ah...whew...just when
I felt at a loss what to write...
bitta bing bitta bang
(optional chitty at no extra cost),
lo and behold ear splitting,
appalling sounds did in vite
until dusk hands clapped
over each ear tight
to muffle noise pollution spite
fully generated by
rambunctious youths,
who know no right
that gunning engines quite
obnoxious, and that conviction
edited (by me) tubby polite
buffer this chap hunkers
down for the night.
the following constitutes the e-man
soup pay wanton declaration
emphatically, independently,
and obnoxiously
transmitted thru ether
these loathsome roar of dirt bikes
punctuates the formerly quiet air
where local high school
teenage mutant ninja
male turtles blare
(an educated presumption)
at top notch threshold decibel
definitely inducing deafness,
which will soon be clear
to those motorheads
flooring accelerator scaring deer
and other sparse wildlife,
whose engines I hear
miles away, cuz this bard ****
got extreme (ear river rent)
hyper sensitivity to sound
perhaps linkedin
tummy predisposition,
could allow ma
Walking Out on the Devil
Of course this is what I asked for.
Exactly what I wanted.
Some would say,
Even what I deserve.
I knew it would be hard.
Maybe not this hard.
I had expectations of emotional loss.
But I didn't think I would lose everything.
Walking away from you was akin
To walking out on the Devil.
I walked out of Hell
With my soul intact.
I left everything behind.
The hot heat of fights,
That warmed the house
From room to room.
Pillows that were once
Used to muffle cries or
Punches to my face
Lay unused now on the bed.
The pictures still hang on the walls.
They cover the holes
That angry fists hit
Through broken drywall.
Scars in a house,
That didn't heal.
Bruises on my body,
Nobody ever saw.
Today it is cold.
Bitter as the snow falls.
Unlike your hot temper,
And demon screaming.
I'm hungry and tired.
But telling myself
That this is still better
Than life with you.
I look inside the window,
Simply passing by.
You sit with her,
Your next victim.
I want to open the door.
Scream and cry at her,
To please run away.
But she is already lost.
Your hand is atop hers.
Your devil eyes are locked
On your target.
She laughs, innocent for now.
It is enough that
Your Hell let me go.
I made it out alive,
That I walked out on the Devil.
I'm convinced that she
Is doomed to her own fate,
Caught under your spell.
So I continue walking into the night.
I knew it would be hard.
Feeling cold and alone.
Leaving everything familiar,
And seeing the Devil with fresh prey.
I MUST EMBRACE THE ENTIRETY OF MY EXISTENCE
I must quietly acknowledge my tenacity and strength,
deny the words and actions of narcissistic
controlling forces, and individuals who have tried to muffle,
my thoughts, worship ... and hopes.
I am a twig that bends with the wind
and refuses to be broken.
A seedling that could not be crushed
through adversity … but will sprout.
I will rise, fall and rise again.
I will innovate, invent, create,
paintings and ...poems.
Despite aging, social and racial inequities,
I will muster the courage for difficult pathways,
all the while challenging situations,
not of my own … making.
I will confront the improbable and the impossible,
with gusto and with great expectations.
Offering to Infuse the wisdom of scriptural truth
in the minds of all meek and truth-seeking individuals.
Regardless of race, social, or … economic background.
I will lend my voice to present the clarity
of God’s love, wisdom, justice, power, and
his purposes for us, and his will for our earth.
A restored Paradise, through the reign of his
anointed son, and King … Jesus Christ.
I desire to do this with love and empathy,
as I attempt to gently pierce through the clutter
of unscriptural doctrines.
I know this will require my love of mankind,
my courage, patience, and tenacity. but always, always
the essential force of … God’s Holy Spirit
and his blessings!
May 2, 2022 copyright
All rights reserved
Contest: Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
SponsorBrian Strand
Suddenly there was a cold draft
It was chilly reminiscent of a wintry shower bath
Making the body freeze
With a tundra tease
It came from up there
Screaming icy air
Was it a duct?
Where the warmth got stuck?
Like a refrigerator open door
Luring a bear into making an easy score
Dressed in the appropriate hibernation muffle
Before escaping doing a planned shuffle
Closing the door
Than crossing the frigid floor
The draft did stop
And soon it got very hot
Suddenly there was a cold draft
Apparently one or two countries had a wrath
Notice came in the mail
Failure to respond meant going to jail
Reporting to camp
With a form signed by a rubber stamp
Boots on the ground
Glory and honor it did sound
As copter blades twirled
And butch haircuts curled
Things went down
Hopefully the bodies would be found
Closing the casket
Family wearing black veils to mask it
The draft did stop
And bonding financial transactions started to get hot
Suddenly there was a cold draft
Foaming an artistic craft
Not a bad deal for a first round that was picked
A social prop soothing the issue that made them ticked
Corona was its name
Perfect for the conversation game
Debating with a laugh
Communicating about the calculating national debt math
Not using any sharp words as spears
Just a nice talk over a few beers
Going down like a saintly breeze
Unlike a French wine next to cheese
Closing the tab
Before calling a cab
The draft did stop
Making the bar flies bug out cheerful not angry and hot
As a child, nature was my mate,
and then a silent location to meditate.
Whenever I want quietness,
I'm off toward the wilderness.
Beneath forest shade, I'll unfold,
I'd design my own virtual world.
Under that similar lush tree,
I'd embody my peculiar reality.
Where life was silent and lovely,
without insect types, bees mainly!
Alone with my mind and emotion,
I can muffle the outer vibration.
No need to feign or rush humanity,
the ceaseless noise of road melody.
Written: July 16, 2022
A Quiet Place Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose