Long Outcries Poems
Long Outcries Poems. Below are the most popular long Outcries by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Outcries poems by poem length and keyword.
Her persona is like
a portrait
of picturesque perfection,
embalmed in
bittersweet lavender,
unseen within depths
of tributaries of elixir.
If only they knew
the chaos that flows,
constrained in
a confined
gallery of grief.
Not everyone is
a master painter.
Some brush with brutal
bruised strokes,
provoking timeless
streams of
implicit secrets,
from crimson stains
on ivory satin,
where scents of juniper
evoke phases of
unpredicted phenomenons,
oblivious to chronicles
of forsaken tales,
which hide
beneath barriers,
many have struggled
to venture within.
But there is an artist
with a
pastel on his palette,
that can correct
her disfigured pigment.
He holds cryptic
calligraphic engravings,
veiled behind the inflamed
chamber of her heart.
He understands that her
spirit drowns when
winds are forceful.
How her
delicateness has
been sleeping
on withered roses,
wilted by
cruelest rays of a
summer
mourning
morning star,
Where bedtime stories
were puppeteered
by hurricanes
feeding on
fenceless vulnerabilities.
yet when
sleepless silence sings,
it can disturb
in reverberating
heavy metal screams.
So she echoes her trauma
through hurtful hisses,
poisoning with
vicious venom.
Her aura alters in
acrimonious attitudes
from serene sunshine
to furious gales.
She remains without
a grip on untamable
seasons of
unholy torture,
Only he knows the poem
in her eyes is the
last train home,
so he calms her
tempest temperament,
enabling hidden rainbows
in her mind to reappear.
He is a soothing
gemini night-flower,
even with outcries
of midnight thunder,
his patience resembles
raining jasmine water,
purifying
her murky waters,
into a crystallised milky-way
of kyanite desires,
guiding her
to swirl and swoon
into
whirlwinds of closure.
Blues in the Night.
A malignant moon
shines his metallic claws -
combs my hair and brushes me forward.
I am alone in the shadowy crooks
of a poisoned metropolis.
A clandestine garbage chute -
where waifs and strays burn
within the fetid bowels
of a cavernous concrete underbelly.
The orphanage awaits my arrival,
as muted outcries are crushed
beneath my footsteps.
A parentless prison
teeters atop Utopia's dreaded brim;
the hamlet where Orwell slew Hilton.
St. Peter has been released
and no longer tends the kitchen.
Agony and angel wings reneged
a redundant brotherhood of sorts.
His recipe for remorse shall be missed.
Blues in the Night.
In the distance,
feigned epileptic outbursts
placates a patron's fears.
Caffeine injections
stimulates another's venial sins
as it magnifies their cardinal options.
An insomnious woman converses
with a napkin holder. The surface
is dull and unreflective, like she.
Banter never-to-be heard
by her never-to-be gentleman caller.
I am home –
amongst the dead I adore.
A haggard waitress serves me a menu.
A laminated journal stained
with melancholy and mustard.
Desolation and demi-tasse
are tonight’s midnight special.
Ten cents additional, if you order deluxe.
Blues in the Night.
I twiddle my thumbs
for I have no other’s to borrow.
I catch my rugged reflection
in the asylum’s window.
I espy my counterpart again
in a twisted spoon -
realizing I’m three utensils short
from a grievous quartet salted
with Mack Sennett misfits.
A collection of dishes clatter
above the sanatorium’s jukebox.
I place my spoon on the counter
and pick up a lifeless knife.
I envy its potential and possibilities
as Woody Herman croons
in the background.
Genesis received no love as a kid,
Hated herself as much as everyone else did.
Never understood how happy children felt,
Never comprehend that she needed help.
So she lived life with many insecurities,
Fed them throughout her life, manifesting obese ignorance &
Unborn fatalities.
Poor Genesis.
Unintentionally subscribing to everything unpretty,
Failing at school & society,
Celebrating the self fulfilled prophecy.
Created illusions of grandiose propriety,
Just to conceal the pain that everyone else could see.
No one ever said success was easy
But clearly not a soul infiltrated to help her define her destiny
So she imposed her tragedies,
Exasperated her misery,
Spread it like angry poison ivy,
On every ambitious individual who exuded positive energy.
A victim turned bully, incarcerated within,
No determination or confidence,
just a replication of her beginning,
A cycle of reminders of what she could have been,
So hard, so cold, she sees no need to repent.
How many Genesis’ are there in every family?
In every industry?
Hating women & men & children alike,
Yelling consequences & smiling, unaffected by the outcries,
Simply because it represents their lives.
Karma & Affection, seeming to ignore her existence,
Painful, sleepless nights when the world is resting,
A sad series of events leading to an even more painful lesson.
Let not the world celebrate her demise,
Let us pray for her soul & her afterlife.
Someone somewhere loves you Genesis…
We usually pray for the victims of bullies and try to assist them. Often, the actual bullies have faced unbelievable pain and circumstances themselves. As a teacher, I have seen the pain in both groups. THIS is dedicated to the bullies...
[Our perspective]
Blackness superimposed by glowing blue
Smearing white spiraling cloud icings
Appearing applied by a painter’s hand
Soon to stretch and then to transform
As eventually will happen with all belief systems
The curvature and reflection of oceans
Vast emerald forests and rolling plains
Attesting to generations of hopes and uncertainties
Poverty, lost loves and sparkling newborn eyes
Shadowed by the serenity and wisdom of wrinkled faces
The fluid motion of our sliding blue oval
Across the windshields of descending spaceships
Eyes viewing us as we view our enemies
Our protests falling upon deaf ears
Receiving the same mercy as we have given
Rounding us up for grotesque consumption
With no regard to status or creed
Another food farm for galactic supermarkets
Where the cries of our children fade
Outcries unheeded by universal apathy
Being dragged kicking and screaming
From a cage of indignities
Fear so great we urinate our pants
Praying to God for deliverance
Oh God, help me, please, please, please!!!
[Their perspective]
They cling to their beliefs, don’t they?
Yes, whatever idea is most popular
That’s what they always call “faith”
Their mind is just like a computer
But with a richer and much tastier texture
Faith? So they think they’re right?
Sure do, right into my stomach, hahaha
Christians and Muslims, they both call us Satan
Pretty much, they taste about the same
But they’re not the tastiest of all
The lawyers are the tenderest
See, they’ve never done an honest day’s work
Bring me that one right there
“Now wait a minute, let’s talk this thing over”
Let’s don’t, but if you like we can say we did
Crunch, crunch, crunch, gulp
Form:
the highest peak for me is the element of praise
every disappointment is a gentle kiss from the most incandescent star
my forward motion stays inspired by the truth within the divine uplifting
to be truly blessed is to fly freely without the effect of meaningless outcries
instead of missing the ignition, i focus instead on the pictorial impact
with that inspiration i face the day newly renewed
the freedom that i feel today prevents my mind from being force fed endless fodder
the contentment i feel prevents my mental from being overtaken with life’s stresses
when the rhythm of time performs indecisive enactments in my vision’s ear, i brainstorm
each session is a thought provoking lesson, and the humbling is a necessary reminder
i take a closer look at how the gold converses carelessly with the silver
i take a deeper observation at how the sun cooperates with the moon
what i ingest is a phenomenal excursion into a magnificent quietude
the vibe of it all inspires a rare smile usually ever so shy
i wish i could take the antonym’s siblings with me
i wish i had a way to make them and their many relatives and offspring understand
however all i can offer them and whoever else are ornamental, yuletide wishes and greetings
as well as the most sincere hope that somewhere, someway, and somehow that i have inspired
A SMILE!
You ask me why I love mountains?
I smile in the silence and quiet mind
Seeing the golden horizon with the heavenly sky
To the deep green valleys and the floating white wings
Far from the humankind.
You ask me why I dwell in the mountains?
I cry and I can cry out loud for my heart is free of care
Seeing the distant snowcapped peak
I try to reach her my voice
And I listen to my own cry when she replies.
You ask me why I find peace in the mountains?
The city is down with curses
And here even when a lonely cloud floats lesuirely by
It gives me to breath a fresh air when it passes by
And when I see the same ridge again
It comes with a far horizon that flashes by.
You ask me why I find homely in the mountains?
Keeping company with moon, I never lost my way
Looking back I see the paths I have taken
Blue then, blue beneath the skyline
The moon greeted me with hidden tracks
Revealing the secrets in the forest
Even a leaf becomes a home down my way.
You ask me why I don't want to return back to the plains?
Wind in the vales still outcries my voice
Every droplets falling from the leaves recalls my tears
The clouds floating aimlessly shows me the distance yet to cover
And the misty morning cold holds my breath forever.
In a time of bad conditions; you can hear it in the air;
And there’s a feeling of being emptied that leaves a hollowness in the soul.
In those winds of stolen time blow the sounds of constant denial;
And with them lies a continual fear of being unsafe.
And always to the one who is often denied most; cone the outcries for mercy;
And their tears come as if presented as a down payment towards a guarantee.
But death often lurks in the lonely corners of the unused mind;
And enjoys a position overstated for merely that of one performing an errand.
And the messengers of the good news require their commitments from the stricken;
But the answer is love; if you love and are loved then you are blessed.
And the worry fills the lighted room where love has gathered round;
And they call out names and places to fill the room with sound.
Many days will the sun rise and fall on those who are in the family of love;
And patriarchs will sit at tables to dine and give thanks for their enjoyments.
He who circles the outer edges of the nucleus has his special mirrors;
And when asked of them their answers are; for now there is no feeling of separations.
I’ve been blessed enough
To be protected
Positive surroundings
Never been rejected
Never redirected
No misdirection
In my life to date
No bad decisions
That could’ve sealed my fate
But my fortunate status
Won’t allow me to stall,
Failing to see the world as it is
Outside my four walls
I can and will,
Still
Allow myself to feel
The very factors,
That force
The faces of fear
From those
That often shed
Agonizing tears
From angst
And ravaging years
Tormented,
By the hands of time
Forced down,
Forced out,
Forced to the end of the line
Enslaved,
By an oppressed mind-set
From a hope not yet,
Seen
Hope deferred
Depressing things
To the point of,
“I dare not dream”
Thus,
It seems
The band of healing
Should start with me
Beaming
Intensity
Baring
Charity
It’s inherent
That I help
Him, her,
You
To be the blessing
Towards a life anew
For those who choose
To live it
So my life of privilege
Should I not only accept,
For self
But for the world,
To be well
Therefore,
My benefits
Should outpour
To the outcries
To the extent
That opportunity extends
Starting,
A non-stop trend
Form:
Where have you been
Darkened with uncertainty
No place to be found
Chanted spiritual songs within one’s encouraging thought
I need to be free
I pray to thee
Thunder raw
Lightening outburst
Slavery was hard and tormented
Beaten and torn
Sunrises being a forbidden rise
Working on those cotton fields
Plantation ordeals for real
Wounds showing the many rebels
Trapped in a prohibited society
No pity
Freedom only a thought
Praying and constant praying
Singing upon singing
The slaves hope surrounded up in Heaven
Numerous cries heard
In 1862, the Emancipation Proclamation was documented, and Freedom became the word’s that Afro-Americans needed to hear
No more worry some of fear
It took place in Galveston, Texas
Years upon years of denial
Not knowing where nor if
Heaven the many outcries
Crisis finally came to an end
Freedom, Freedom, Freedom
From Slavery life into the light of the earthly kingdom
Sacrifice proven
Land’s wisdom
Dwell doers
The raw of thankful emotion
Smooth breezes and calm oceans
Life was and will be worth living
The call for Freedom
Emancipation at its best
Silently she slips
into another dream
she drifts through an illusion
that cloaks her memories in an eclipse
a shadow of her life
a reminder of the grief and strife
she's met by promises that cant come true
they lie on her soul like the morning dew
in the shattered mirror she lies
as broken as the memories she despised
in her dreams she painfully cries
desperately wanting to break free of the guise
Is this all one big dream
wanting to see through blind eyes
is a certain madness taking hold
or am i simply being far too bold?
Can i do it once again
bring myself to what ive been
slave away in the past
and forget the future that cannot last?
What thought she demurred
A dream that's deterred
Twice it sank
Twice it burned
And left with life undiscerned
can you know what you leave behind
when you move onto another road
to not see what others will find
a used up empty load
crying in the background
how the tides have changed
and as surely as the sun rises
the waves shall recede
a salty shore battered and broken
outcries in the dawn
of empowering need
left unspoken