Long Mysterylost Poems
Long Mysterylost Poems. Below are the most popular long Mysterylost by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mysterylost poems by poem length and keyword.
Deep in the piney woods
A call beckons across the branch
A call that isn't animal nor human
A call that makes your hair stand alert and skin prickly from fright!
The light of the full moon awakens the spirits and the calling from the piney woods.
If you doubt my story and risk your very life, then make sure you take a
weapon into the piney woods. Well, I believe the call is from the ghost of the moon
shiners that have lost their lives in the mica mines many years ago.
The mica was
big business one time until the mines went dry.
The deep holes were perfect cover for the moonshine stills until
the revenuers caught the culprits. A great gun battle raged until death.
Today the crumpled mica shimmer in the red clay is all that is left of the mines.
The local children like to scare
themselves with the
abandoned rock graveyard along the edge of the piney woods. If you look close at
the mound of rocks...it appears that there is a bony hand protruding from the grave
and pointing directly at you to leave. The ancient thick cedar trees seem to
guard the graves and whisper "Warning, Warning."
In 1969 there was another vilolent firey death on the road through the piney woods.
A man died inside a burning wrecked truck, screaming
"Don't let me burn to death" repeatedly until the bitter charred end.
When the moon is right the echo carries his screams across the hills.
A young man only age seventeen lost his life in a fatal car wreck on
the steep curved road. His life was taken so fast; he is said to walk
the hills searching for his sweet ride to
carry him on his journey, unaware of his eternal fate.
On a short walk along the shallow creek bank reveals an old rock formation covered
in moss now but built by a people of long ago. Maybe Indian or early settlers,
no one knows the architects but if you stand in a certain spot where the
ground is always wet with a reddish ooze. You can feel a cold icy finger
across your face and neck.
Is the call a young buck calling his bride in the after life; is the call an
evil doer fighting to avoid beelzebub's snare? The apparition can be seen
briefly if you desire look when the wind and moon are right. Waynesville
holler offers more
than beauty in the day but beware of the moon lit walks that
young lovers
brave or you
may be the next victim of the piney woods!
Act 1: Scene 1: (As the curtain opens, we see the bulky frame of Farmer George. He paces
the worn floor of his large open kitchen. He has just come in from harvesting his crops.
Seated at the table is his wife, Florence (Flo), a more educated person, demure, and usually
calm. Today she sits, as if in peril, large green eyes darting nervously back and forth as they
follow his every move. Across from her on the table is an uncut melon; next to it, a large
knife. Both husband and wife appear agitated, and an argument is about to ensue as George
leans suddenly forward, glaring at his wife’s startled face, placing both his large rough hands
heavily down on the table squarely in front of Flo. . . )
Flo: Mercy, George, what’s gotten into you? You’re nearly giving me a heart attack!
George: Don’t tempt me, woman. I want an explanation from you and I want it RIGHT
NOW! No more ‘a this dilly dallying around. What in tarnation was ya doin’ out there?
Flo: Why, I’ve been in here cooking, can’t you see?
George: Cooking? Cooking? I’d say you been cooking up something all right and it ain’t
been here in this kitchen!
Flo: Why, whatever do you mean, George?
George: I seen you out there by the barn, Flo. Don’t you deny it.
Flo: I am being perfectly candid with you. I’ve been right here cooking you this supper since
4 o’clock! Why on earth would I be out behind the barn and at this hour?
George: That’s what I wanna know! I seen you from the field, Florence. Not more than
fifteen minutes ago! I might’a lost some hearing, but I sure ain’t lost my sight yet! You was
runnin’ toward the house like yer skirt was on fire. So whaddaya not telling me?
(Florences’ gaze settles on the one kitchen window, and suddenly her eyes get very large. At
this precise moment, a loud crash is heard from outside. Bruce picks up the knife from the
table and dashes off, bellowing, exiting stage left.)
For Rambling Roses' Act 1, Scene 1 Contest
French trader Tavernier in a greed-inspired way
Glared at an idol of a temple in Mandalay
Prying a gem from its eye socket, a curse prevailed
Tavernier died bankrupt soon after making the sale
Louis XIV bought the stone, 1668
A gift to his mistress, Louis had it cut heart-shape
For dabbling in Black Magic, this madam was burned
A century passed with the curse’s power unlearned
The diamond was then bestowed on Marie Antoinette
For wearing it with boastful pride, Marie lost her head
She lost respect from the commoners of her nation
This gem has since been linked to the French Revolution
Cut far smaller, the gem resurfaced, 1830
When a London banker bought the rock of infamy
Henry Thomas Hope survived; the curse appeared to break
For 70 years the Hope Diamond’s wrath lay in state
A Hope heir’s marriage collapsed; his wife evoked the curse
As she foretold, subsequent owners’ fates would be worse
French broker Jacques Colot went mad, suicide his road
Sultan “Abdul the Damned,” insane after being deposed
Then to an American the Hope Diamond was sold
Washington Post owner Maclean watched horrors unfold
Other household members died, but it was Maclean’s son
Ten years old, struck by a car, his Dad’s mind came undone
Ultra-light ray tests caused the mystery diamond to glow
With safety in mind, Hope’s eerie stone found a new home
It remained locked on display in the Smithsonian
Could it be to blame for all that’s wrong in Washington?
Tragedy also tied to raiders of King Tut’s tomb
Perhaps lessons can be gleaned from those who met their doom
Robbing temples, burial sites, outcomes always bad
Greedy souls’ quests for wealth can leave them totally mad
So don’t expect me to purchase a diamond in the rough
Considering this gem’s history, a sandstone’s quite enough
HE is the ONE...Look to the SON!
Ever been misused
Ever been abused
Ever been falsely accused,
Ever been raped
Ever been taped,
Ever been talked about
Ever been kicked out
Ever been full of doubt?
B u t G o d...
Remember when you heard no
Remember when they said you
can't go
Remember when they said you're
too slow,
Remember when the doctors said
you wouldn't make it
Remember when the lawyers said
you couldn't shake it
Remember when the enemy said
you wouldn't break it
Remember when you thought you
couldn't take it?
B u t G o d...
How about neglected
How about disrespected
How about arrested
How about tested,
How about lost everything u had
How about cut, sliced, or stabbed
How about pushed, shoved, or
grabbed,
B u t G o d...
Have you been attacked
Have you been threatened
because you were black,
Have you ever lost your breath
Have you ever stared in the eyes of
death,
Have you ever been addicted to
any drug
Have you ever missed a guns slug
Have you ever been exposed to a
bug,
Have you been in a car crash
Have you ever felt like trash?
B u t G o d...
Are you still in your right mind
Are you still capable of telling
time,
Are you still standing
Are you understanding
Are you still comprehending,
Are you still breathing???
B U T G O D!!!
HE is the ONE...Look to the SON!
All was dark and quiet in the house as I got up to pee
Not a sound from a mouse, but I could hear my hammering heart inside me
I was so scared of the dark and hated getting up in the middle of the night
I knew bogeymen lurked in the trailer park, but thank God for my night light!
I listened to the stories told, never knowing I would witness it first hand
Seven years old and what I saw I couldn’t understand
Walking past the living room door way, I saw her sitting in a chair
She wore a white transparent negligee and had very white hair
The room was eerily cold and truth be told, I was utterly mesmerized
My hand on the door post, I knew she was a ghost, but not anyone I recognized
She never once looked at me, but seemed to star in another direction
Like contemplating her reality and if she had a spiritual resurrection
I blinked an eye, that’s how fast she was gone. Never to be seen again
I’ll never forget that July the beating beneath my breastbone, and her very pale skin
She’ll always be in the forefront of my mind, a lost soul, lost in time!
Her spirit is still confined and so I give Amy Green my story through a Rhyme!
*Written for Amy Green’s “I Saw With My Own Eyes” Contest
Maybe the songs have robbed me,
Losing on words, depth and passion,
I lurk around for death.
Like a crushed piece of paper
Once sheltering the secrets of a lost soul;
I glide to, where the vile wind takes me.
As i listen to the melodies
Of melancholy,
Under a moonlit night,
Looking at a bridge, that cant take me to heaven:
Behind the wavy trees,
Alone like this night,
Alone like me, leaning on my Wall,
With the vision stretched beyond the stars,
And hands hanging lose, like nowhere to hold on;
I want to ask that stranger over there,
"Do you know that I see you?.."
A gust of cool breeze broke the spell,
Lazily I look above,
I see the night sky like a chiffon veil.
As the shadow drifted from a rare inspiration
To darkness...
So did my words,
I am just a crushed piece of blank paper,
With no secrets of my lost soul
And no vile wind to take me away..
....................In the dawns' refuse I have uncovered
Wonderful treasures & memories....
Jewels once lost to the distant past, That have arisen
From the recesses of life to rejuvenate the primal
Urge that has long slept inside this
Broken castle of words.
Here now, I send out vultures & crows
To re collect all parts of myself lost to the corners
of the known world,
I have sent out owls to take flight, transmigrant
& swift to reclaim the blazed trails of my youth
\in all the Unknown galaxies and inner spaces
of all that we as humans can ever be.
In the unkept ruins of the night
I have rediscovered all that I am
beneath the silk skin of beauty;
I have caught from the voice of
her secret lips serenading
my tongue.
-----
A face with no name,
her eyes icy cold!
She masks herself to hide the truth,
of the fear her heart molds.
By definition and in theory,
by deaths design.
To be tamed she may,
but will never be confined.
You search so far, yet,
you will never understand.
The true depth she carries,
in the palm of her hand.
Paralyzed by her aura that surrounds her,
seeing only what she allows you to see.
Hiding so much to never be found,
the rest, under lock and key.
The waters run deeper,
than one would think.
Drunk by her charisma,
without even taking a drink.
Her spirit captures, it devours,
suddenly, you've lost all control.
Engaged to the idea of it all,
now your lost inside her beautiful soul!
Past my hearts window comes the cold weeping wind;
Of a tiny voice heard at the edge of night's end.
A small precious child we shall never know.
A lost little soul who lived a nightmare of woe!
Little Lisa the girl who weeps into the night.
How the days for you must have been such a fight.
The nights you spent weeping in fear of the day;
Never given a hope for a life in loves way.
I ask night's embrace of the love that we send.
To Lisa...who's gliding...on currents of wind!
Ever in heart does the chilly wind leave it's mark.
Holding little Lisa who weeps in the dark!
*Dedicated to all the precious children we've lost in this sick world...J.M.A.