Long No escape Poems
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I am the prisoner of my own silence,
locked in a cell made of hours and shadows,
where loneliness wraps its cold fingers around my throat,
and the light outside is nothing but a forgotten dream.
There is no escape—
no door, no window,
just the echo of a heart
that shattered long ago
and no hands left to gather its pieces.
I carry the weight of a thousand unsaid words,
each one a stone,
pressing down on my chest,
a burden heavier than time itself.
I call out to the world,
but my voice is nothing more
than the dust of past hopes,
scattered on the winds of absence.
I am both the wound and the bandage,
the broken glass and the scattered reflection,
each fragment a memory
that cuts deeper when I touch it.
And still,
no one comes to repair me,
no one hears my cries
in the hollow chambers of this soul
that has forgotten the taste of peace.
I see the world move around me,
its colors vibrant,
its people whole,
but I am a shadow beneath their feet,
a forgotten poem in a language no one understands.
The spaces between us grow wider,
and with each passing breath,
I fall deeper into the hollow that lives within me,
a place where love once bloomed
but now withers without a name.
And so I remain—
a prisoner of my own grief,
a heart too broken to heal,
too lost to be found.
There is no escape,
only the weight of time
and the endless ache of what could have been.
Of course,I read the manual.
Who hasn't?
Words,nothing but words
Until it happens
And then it is burned,branded and imprinted
Graphically and indelibly
Into your brain.
Sleep brings the nightmare alive
Again and again
You witness it over and over
In all its starkness
There's no escape,no way out
You can't stop the bloody train in time
All you can do is spectate
An unwilling and helpless participant
By the time your eyes pick out
The figure poised on the parapet
Vulture like
You are at the point of no return
Slam on the brakes
Jolt the passengers awake
The body in crucifixion mode
Glances off the cabin glass
Pupils dilated and inward looking
Staring within
You stand frozen
Unable to avert your gaze
And then time stands still
Journey and jobs disrupted
Until the gruesome recovery
Is complete
But that frozen snapshot
Haunts my memory
Flashing up
When least expected
My albatross
Seared into my mind
Spitefully roosting
And beyond oblivion
Torturing my soul
And draining
My will to live.
O, elusive muse, mysterious and profound bruise,
you bewitch my soul, never to be found in the way of former use.
In your absence, I am left with bittersweet
caramello pain,
forever longing for your ephemeral archery reigns,
to stick your finger in and frost your tips, lips, hips.
With every plié, a heart skips a beat,
as feelings pirouette upon your rage
and bloodlust and cage.
Each soft tendu, a love story paged,
imbued with passion's fire, never to age.
But doth wrinkle rings around my heart like a chain,
loosely at first.
Then comes your tools of torture,
your sandblaster-twirls deoxyribonucleiy
amidst a dreamscape host given wage,
unfurls, serpentor,
hyour body, an instrument
for efficacies' grand gauge.
Through leaps and bounds, love's whispers
take shape, like an hourglass shaken
to be thrown to the Leviathan sea.
Given over to the carcinogenie of winds,
carrying own lamp of photosins seeding plans.
Your occulant lids, occupancy Inn
unfolding a tale stolen from Wonderland
with narrator mouth agape.
Like a hellmouth opened revealing iron rows
of oscillator teeth, of to then throe.
I know there is no escape, but surrenders
oasiatic retreat of blue snows.
From your sire nyour cover of cape.
Spellbinding me to the elements
like salt in the wound to taste and one to grow.
O, ballerina of love, your steps mesmerize,
evoking metamorphic fertiles,
lilypad touchstone monads of diodes and control pads and padded rooms of the matrixed "mad",
making us crystals of your rites,
constellate consulates of your Medusaic petrify,
metamorphed from pieces of coal-
fitted for pressure, heat of becoming
from your diamond bit drill.
But beneath the surface of t h i s-
frozen-heartless veneer,
y o u r c a r o m i n g d a r k n e s s
come to take me away-
lies a fire, a longing, a blaze yet unquenched
Ignited by the spark of hope,
a steal cable between your wench
the yearning for warmth
worked by passion match.
There eyes an unaided flicker,
Me, the Wicker-man
struggling against your vice grip,
your tangle of betrathed lisp.
I am tied by your poetry,
your visa drip, feminine W I C C A - Beltane slip
of slip.
A bridge too far,
of golden vistas burning,
now, there is no return.
For me, only to find your drowning sea or burn.
once you take that first step down the path
the decision has been set upon and you cannot go back
now it is up to trust, that invisible demon or angel in waiting
right or wrong the pendulum will swing in either direction
time a curse or a blessing guided by a compass
beholden to no one it has its own destiny
for love once betrayed is a vengeful enemy
setting off a cornucopia of storms of anger
unleashing the torments only goddesses can bestow
their ire thrust forth like a thunderous lighting strike
wishing to smite those that have broken her heart
there is no hiding from the maelstrom your betrayal has unleashed
bringing embarrassment to those that inhabit castles
a dire misjudgment in a moment of voluptuous temptation
is there now regret to having succumbed to human wontedness
it would appear so, hands now tied striding towards the inevitable
step by step moving closer to the sentence handed down
the walled fortress now a corral with no escape
and then I am there, she and a legion of men in waiting
a gilded sword sharp as any in the kingdom prepared
her golden hair blowing in the wind, delicate features revealed
utter beauty astonishing in the backdrop of a scorching sun
how could I have traded this for a night of passion with another
now I am pushed down to kneel before her my heart racing wildly
she is judge and jury and as she draws back the sword
I wonder if there is one morsel of sympathy in her repertoire
so I close my eyes and ponder why has my lust brought me here
all the whilst listening for the whoosh that will end my days or not
Andreas Simic©
This poem was created using ONLY the titles of poems I've written. Many of them were posted on PS, but not all of them appear here. No grammatical articles of speech were used.
I danced in the rain on silver wings
our whispered words,
"Make me the reason you breathe"
Whispers dried on the vine
whetted with deception,
branded by flames
disillusioned with love
we turned our backs on forever
Dark sombre nights, my heart cried
tears in the moonlight
while sunlight sleeps
Alone in my grief, a soul depraved
layer upon layer, shoveled from the grave
Night rituals
no escape from the pain
night visits to a vile place
darkness in starlight's bloom
emotionally naked when forever is severed
Heartache wears a face of woe
Memories linger, wistful memories
Drowned in passion, with remorse
Farewell to our yesterdays
Treacherous Heart!
Human imperfections...mortality
Outracing death, an uninvited guest
Shadow of my lover
Love's tragic death
In darkness I dwell
in crypt hued grey
in shrouds of silk
Weep not for withered petals
sing no canticle for me
For love I have died
Inside
A broken mind
Darkness rules with ruthless joy
No escape to find, no backdoor in this evil hell of mine
Just me and my shadows of the past
Haunting
Taunting
Tirelessly torturing
Shamelessly demolishing what I am, what I once was
Innocent
Never any relief, never are those memories kind
Alone trapped with my demons
Please, no inh more please !!!
Spinning in an endless circle a loosing war,
Fighting to leave the madness behind
Vanquish my demons one by one
Feeling alone, numbness and pain,
I'm going completely ing insane!!!
No one. Can save me, no one
I ignite, Bursting into flames,
Alone, trapped with my demons
It’s just me my demons and my broken mind…
Obsessive, cumpulsive disorder,
OCD,
Intrusive thoughts,
OCD,
Overthinking
OCD,
However you want to say it,
It all means the same thing,
It means sleepless nights,
Pages and pages of writing,
long walks, with no music playing,
Because the voice in your head keeps you entertained,
It’s overthinking until there’s nothing more to think about,
But you’ll never get to that point,
Because there’s always something,
It’s getting stressed out about the little things,
Because everything matters to you,
It’s replaying convos in your head months after they’ve happened,
But you keep doing it,
Because somewhere between then and now somethings changed,
You just don’t know what,
You wish you did,
But you dont,
It’s planing conversations prior to doing them,
But them never actually happening,
Because that’s what OCD is,
It’s thinking of every possible scenario,
But forgetting the possibility of never running into them,
Never needing to talk about it,
Never being asked the question you thought would come up,
Its a hard thing to live with,
But there’s no escape,
There is no way to stop thinking,
The more you try the worse it gets,
But saying it’ll never get better is false,
Because it does get better,
Eventually you’ll learn how to manage,
But manage doesn’t mean solve,
Manage doesn’t mean fix,
Manage doesn’t make the pain go away,
Manage means it’ll become liveable,
Tolerable,
Bearable,
But the pain never fully stops,
The headache never fully goes away,
But the voice in your head will learn to whisper,
As you find your peace,
But it will never stop talking,
And that’s the way it should be,
Because that voice is you,
It makes you who you are,
Without it,
You wouldn’t quite be the same.
As much as you want it to leave you alone,
And you’ll spend nights banging your head,
Trying to silence it,
It won’t leave,
It’s apart of you,
And making it leave is cruel,
Because you couldn’t live without it.
So although it sucks most of the time,
And it can often ruin your mood,
It also makes you care so much,
It makes you never forget the good times,
It makes you nervous and excited for what the future holds,
So if I had the option to live without my OCD,
I’d say no,
Because it’s me,
And I am it,
And I am so grateful for that
This is for all the ladies out there
That no doubt will relate
To all the woes of wearing a Bra
To which there seems to be no escape?
So, firstly we have the bra that rubs
It stings…. you can’t take much no more
When finally you rip that bra off
It’s rubbed your skin red raw!
The bra where your boobs bulge out the top of the cup
Or hand out underneath
You have paid big money for this bra
Yet, you are still getting bra grief!
Then there's the bra where the straps “continually” fall down
They will never sit in place
Pulling them up constantly
Trying to hide the absolute irritation on your face!
We then have the bra that lacks support
With movement your boobs just jiggle about
Let’s hope there’s no need to run
As you will totally knock yourself out!!
Lastly, the underwire bra
This one worse than all the rest
Looking down in complete horror you see
A large round wire poking out your top sitting on your chest….!!!
"I wandered lonely as a cloud." William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a boat
a shallow dingy left behind,
alone in marsh of reeds remote
my paint now faint so unrefined,
my only hope the next high tide
on brackish water then I’ll ride,
in aimless drift left up to fate
the wind and wave upon the bay
on rhythmic swells, I’ll grow sedate
with naught to see through mists of gray…
on ripples pale so soft so free
my destination out to sea;
that distant place where lay the sun
across the sunset waters west,
the ambiance of cirrus spun
to brush with colors every crest
where I can bathe in shades so bold
of melting solar marigold.
Yet — let go I must of wishful dreams!
My lifeline dispossessed I strayed
and followed streams with other schemes —
now lofty tide cannot be swayed,
a rustic wreck in reeds reposed
their wind-song whispers I’m imposed.
There’s no escape their soldiers’ lance,
the blades of green so tall and crisp,
with waves they undulate in dance
and breezes ruffle tassels’ wisp,
though swans find beauty mid the reeds
—a wistful coward’s bitter weeds.
Susan Ashley
January 14, 2023
~ Second Place ~
Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 25
Sponsor: Mark Toney
~ Poem Of The day ~
January 16, 2023
Poet’s note: this poem was inspired by, but not written for, the contest: “I Wandered Lonely As… Challenge”, sponsored by Natasha Scragg and judged on September 24, 2022. Thank you, Natasha, for the beautiful William Wordsworth quote and for the poetic inspiration.
Photo: gettyimages; Jay Fleming
Intimate Friendship
An appetite for a soulful intimate bond,
A craving every moment to talk and meet,
But still groping deep in a worldly pond,
And constant gaze at the door wanting to greet,
Can it be just crazy love and romance?
And not an intimate relationship to treasure,
Leaving into leftist stance by any chance ?
How could the intensity one ever measure?
When my every breath inhales his scent,
Every murmur and beat says his name,
How can he ask me to be prudent ?
And hang on to later put off the game ?
Intimate friendship is ethereal, would ever last,
No escape, no excuses, perpetually aghast !
Written August 30th, 2014
For contest 'Sonnet on an Intimate relationship' by Regina Riddle
Awarded Rank 5th