Long Numbly Poems
Long Numbly Poems. Below are the most popular long Numbly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Numbly poems by poem length and keyword.
I return each year to make my peace
I wade through quilts of grass and stone
Beside the mounds, of cold damp earth
And pray it's true.......that angels hear
Will gather 'round to listen, now
I need to know that somewhere there
is someone close, to feel my breath
To hear the words I've left unsaid
or accolades I should have shared
But words, too late, I've kept unspoken
inaudible, are broken tears
and with regret, I will come
to spread transparent words around
I should have sung them long ago
Toss them like leaves, so you would know
to catch them like the leaves of fall...
And gently you would gather them
to keep them for your heart to own
Through the years I've held regret
From things suppressed that froze my tongue
And with regret, words linger yet,
Still hovering to weigh me down
---------------------------
For Catie's Contest: "No More Masks"
Inspired by a poem by Angelina W. Grimke
The Eyes of My Regret
Always at dusk, the same tearless experience,
The same dragging of feet up the same well-worn path
To the same well-worn rock;
The same crimson or gold dropping away of the sun
The same tints, - rose, saffron, violet, lavender, grey
Meeting, mingling, mixing mistily;
Before me the same blue black cedar rising jaggedly to
a point;
Over it, the same slow unlidding of twin stars,
Two eyes, unfathomable, soul-searing,
Watching, watching, watching me;
The same two eyes that draw me forth, against my will
dusk after dusk;
The same two eyes that keep me sitting late into the
night, chin on knees
Keep me there lonely, rigid, tearless, numbly
miserable -
The eyes of my Regret.
Where Frozen Embers Still Burn
Frozen, in a darkened moments cold,
preserving, youth denied its growing old,
flames that severed psyches cord
arson at the hands of those who “serve the lord”.
Living in an ice block embered hate
all that might have been numbly laid waste
locked both in and outside of the gate
homeless amid the “keepers of the faith”.
Deafened by the pealing of the bells
sentencing a child to lifeless hells,
carrying the weight of sinner’s sin
because they told him it belonged to him.
Embers, that were tended, fueled with rage
warming, ever slowly, livings flame
refusing to be locked in clerics cage
torching the lie “I was to blame”.
8/14/2014
For Gail Angel Doyle contest
Where Frozen Embers Still Burn
Aye admit, an author's adept
and adroit mastery
to link words together subtly crept
(expressing contents
in a matter of fact
understandable fashion, except
for dissertations and/or kept
jargon for exclusive specialty)
posits, that my wordy verbosity,
revelation, viz "EUREKA" suddenly leapt
administers cerebral, harmful
offal psychological usury
verdict I accept
fomenting gobbledygook concept
might create notion, yours truly inept,
plus incorporating confessional backswept
facets of writerly person,
as sigh nearly wept
(drafting previous poem,
sans book review
like an emotional bit torrent windswept
"And I Don't Want
to Live This Life" anchored in concept,
qua raw maternal did severely intercept
the motherly bond Deborah Spungen
felt toward zombified miskept
incorrigibly, horribly, grievously...
tormented first born
or momentenous insept
begetting impregnation and early labor
Nancy Laura Spungen since birth,
perhaps seeped when aye slept
into nooks and crannies of subconscious,
though one could breeze thru said book
such evocative anguish left
me numbly bereft, yet acutely aware
to vicariously experience devastating agony!
Priscilla’s News
The Word
Threads every dawn
Dyed in blue
And
Purples hues
And walks in time
With the meter of a shuttle
A steady
Pulsing rhythm
The beat of warp and woof
Rising-falling
Falling – rising
Weaving seasons through the soul
Into new patterns
Of hope
Foretold –
Life born from an empty tomb
And ancient promise
Raised up in flesh
Called from the grip of a cerecloth
Shouting in triumph
Over mortality clothed in flesh
In bright threads of victory;
A season of the heart
Peering through dark threads
Of winter’s midnight
And passing over
The bondage of empires
And conquering armies
In crimson strands,
The Word
Proclaimed to countless souls
Shivering through each starless night –
Waiting-hoping
Hoping-waiting
Not knowing eternity’s covenant
Changed the pattern
Of each life which numbly wandered
From Eden to exile
Exile to Eden
New creations –
New highways leveled -
New valleys rise embracing mountaintops
Where footsteps
Joyfully announce
Good News!
Changing colors of despair
To brilliant shades of joy
In the handiwork of a new handmaid -
Woman of the Word –
Who did not travel the holy roads,
Or wait upon the Living Word,
But sees through eyes,
Once blinded eyes
That held the coats
Of hands that martyrs made,
The calling of the weaver’s wife
To raise a herald’s voice
In a foreign wilderness
For those who wait in darkness
Preparing a new made way
In a tent of tapestry – hearts interwoven –
Bound by the Word.
Divine Intervention
Dear Dad…I plucked a crimson rose that lay
upon your grave, as icy rain fell down
and joined my warm, wet tears that winter day.
Unto my heart, I pressed it close to drown
my mournful thoughts and feelings deep inside.
And then I numbly made my way back home
to grieve and heal with loved ones by my side.
But soon they left, and I was all alone.
That night I placed the crimson rose within
a random place inside a book of prose,
and it pressed flat for quite some time therein.
One day I opened it to find I chose
the place that God directed me to lay
the rose in answer to my prayers of where
you were in death so that my heart could say
that everlasting life was yours to share.
What I had hoped I know for sure is true...
for words within the page where that rose slept,
"The Grave," by Robert Blair...bodes life anew;
in God’s eternal life our souls are kept.
My keepsake rested in a book of prose...
God’s intervention was my only guide.
Mid secret pages dried your crimson rose...
God’s answer to my prayer…with thanks, I cried.
September 16, 2014
~1st Place~
Contest: Avatar
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Judged: 12/16/2017
Every poem I read these days
Be it love or pain, long or a short one
Leaves me numbly amazed
By how poets use the robot hand.
When praised, filled their hearts with pride
For an expensive tour on a free ride
Boastfully and arrogantly they will say
They frame the words and lines their way.
I stumbled upon one just the other day
Forced rhymes and commas in disarray.
Blind to the misstep, pride led him astray
In the summer rain, his thoughts did sway.
Every poem I read these days
Just reminds me celebrating a grade one cheat
Like winter's brilliant moon rays
Glitters at the dark of the night.
Your unique colors once flashed light’s perfection inside my
dark and with ecstatic presence you erased all the gray stains in
my heart. In embrace, through our words and shared actions,
our love merged and returned fulfilling, stirred and deserved
barrier-free years.
Now, you have spent months tinted as a disturbed and twisted
stranger. Nowhere did we swerve, no defining change occurred
yet you blurred. You will not converse or explain, but sadden
me by abandoning me to nurse this coarse pain you randomly
construed to be my forced companion.
Ignoring me and my kiss, my pleas fall infirm like harm-rinsed
germs that your heart brings on without remorse or rain clouds
aching for the storms. My amassed and treasured love depths
have collapsed beyond my grasp. Numbly, I hear the echo effects
of our shared dreams retreating steps.
I have known pain.
How to hide it as I live with it
Stuffed down
The muffled sound
Of objections to be silenced
It's latent trait subject to violence
I wait for grey skies
And hope that it will rain
So that my tears blend in unseen
The unacquitted tears
From yester-years
A smokescreen
I struggle to see past the haze
It’s extreme.
I listen to music on the radio
My voice echoes to the tune
Melancholy melodies
That wrap like a cocoon
Distant and sad songs
I sing along
Side by side the words
That reflects my pain for so long.
Just like my childhood and my home
The silence of my phone
Strangely comforts me.
Familiar emptiness
Words I can’t express
Memories repressed
I sat there numbly.
Skillfully mincing
Words I don't feel
Meant to conceal
While voices in my head
Breath threats of exposure
- Relentlessly.
Where is the door to closure
I desperately need?
My pain and laughter blend
I wear a smile
I pretend
And no one is the wiser.
Pain settles like a geyser
Waiting to explode
As I fight the urge to give in and implode.
I runaway I try to hide
I don't know where to run to.
I long for grey skies
That speak of rain
Inviting pain
Like lover's
That cry in ecstasy
I give myself completely
So that my tears remain unseen.
I'm sitting down on the fading couch,
awaiting the pearls to dribble off her lips.
My mixed up life seeks the comfort of words
to ease the wounds sewn by life's rips.
She spins tales from her journal of yesterday,
but nothing heals this hole in my heart.
Her ancient face trembles with emotion,
trying to give my boring self a jump start.
Numbly, I listen to these piercing sounds of advice,
sifting through the fractured thoughts of my brain.
Her mouth keeps pouring out distant sentences,
submerging my head within her long lost pain.
The medicine of relief comes when her voice ends,
and golden silences embraces my weary ears.
A secure smile strengthens her belief
that her prized advice would ease my tears.
DUMBSTRUCK
Every time I am with you, I am dumbstruck,
overcome with excitement, being stuck
in feeling funky, groovy, crazy like I am seventeen.
Hard to behave like a lady, nearing seventy.
Sitting across you, gazing at your smiley eyes
while we talk, sip our drinks between our smiles,
makes me feel a wild flower child instead of a grown,
mature woman for letting all my feelings out, known.
I am surprised for it was hard for me to like somebody
for my elusive heart was frozen in time, numbly.
I caught your eye and you melted my frozen heart,
made it feel again and warmed it until it sparked.
I am amazed by you and when I find myself dumbstruck
thinking of you under the moonlight, I become moonstruck.
Submitted on 8/31/21
Your Favorite Rhyme Poem In August 2021 Poetry
Constance La France
8/10/21 - Written
Dumbstruck Poetry
Charles Messina
8/29/21 - Judged (5th place)
Used: RhymeZone