Long Pacified Poems
Long Pacified Poems. Below are the most popular long Pacified by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pacified poems by poem length and keyword.
Willingly, I ran
That was the first sign my life was falling apart
Strange bike that brought me back in one piece, damn you
That hope of abduction never came to fruition
I am complacent in the wake of my life’s finale
Climbing those eight flights of stairs
Only to prolong my denial
Too choked to speak
Life has always been easy
I realize you are a hologram
Motion picture of a mother
You are complacent in the wake of my life’s finale
Sent to bed at five o'clock
The same time it's been since yesterday
I fake asleep
When you walk in with my father
Coughing lies and webs of drunken incongruencies
I am complacent in the wake of my life's finale
We eat, and I sit by the water
Black tide splashing up to my toes
For a moment, I dream of drowning,
Fanatically gasping for air
I'm pulled away by the arrival of pasta
I do not eat, but rather stare as you finish
One, Two, Three, Four
Glasses of wine
I threaten to walk until I'm pacified
Moron, you call me
As we arrive, safely
Climbing those eight flights of stairs
Only to prolong my denial
My eyes are closed
I fake asleep
Sober at midnight
I said something that had scared you, though you don't quite remember
Please talk to you
I liked hearing you beg
Ignoring you in my bed,
I fake asleep
I wake up alone
Breakfast waiting for me
I do not eat.
Yesterday did not happen
I'm seventy feet under
Quite easy it would be to die here, I think
I wish I had.
I was complacent in the wake of my life’s finale
Resurfacing, I refuse my favorite fruit
I do not eat, but rather stare at the water
For a moment, I dream of drowning,
Fanatically gasping for air
I’m complacent in the wake of my life’s finale
We drive in silence
Still crunchy from the salt
I fake asleep
I never woke up
Hypnotized by your lies and
The gaslit fire that kept me warm in my slumber
I dreamt of drowning,
Fanatically gasping for air
Until I fell still, complacent in the wake of my life’s finale
It was my birthday; only God knows the year
we played 8-ball, downed platoons of whiskey and beer
After last call, things got a little hazy
The next day my buddy Jake filled in the blanks.
Seems I begged him to drive me to the sinful silver state...
Instead, he pacified me with a fifth of 180 proof.
The last thing I remember was tugging at my shoes.
The next morning, I found a shoe between two panes of glass.
Looking like a pair of patent leather jets that had run out of gas.
The landlord just shook his head, said Get to work then laughed.
With head filled with neon mist and a fist filled with glaze...
I climbed up Jake's ladder and squared up with the pane.
Based on a true story-the name was changed to protect the guilty
Painting a picture of porcupines playing
Pincushions parked in the field
Purple and pink for this playful perception
Plans of their purpose revealed
Painful endeavors of pacified pranksters
Preparing a pie at their place
Pecan or pumpkin, pickle, pineapple
Pieces are smeared on their face
Putting the paint on some powder puff paper
Pleasure in each stroke is plied
Pausing to peer at some porpoises playing
Prancing in pansies they hide
Puzzling problems with pretzels and peanuts
Posturing people to prove
Pistachio perfume in prime presentation
Preaches that peaches will move
Polishing pastels on pre-printed pages
Prized the possessions we seek
Paisley the plumes of a peacocks posterior
Portraits now come take a peek
Pampering pelicans play the piano
Pure as a piccolos prayer
Picking a parcel of plum flavored pudding
Poetic prose fills the air
Pleats in my pants shout in proud proclamation
Puddle my pores that perspire
Poodles on playgrounds prevent prosecution
Plotting my hearts pure desire
Passion precedes every past tense of parting
Piled with a presence so true
Painting a picture while purposely dreaming
Promising my love to you
Traversing the petrified pining wasteland
I reached the emerald meadow,
emerged from the abyss of condensed aloneness
to be with you, entwined,
in the stellar sapphire night of desire,
but the enchanting echo of your faint footsteps
faded away from the portal of my heart.
What stayed with me
was the sound of silence you made,
I heard in the music of memory,
hidden in the fervor of my emotion, unexpressed.
As the ticking clock of our sanguine time stopped
at the edge of eternity,
my yearning like the sun
flaming the fleeting horizon
engulfed you with the sensual spectrum of craving,
the pacified passion got configured
into the unvoiced language of love,
composing the lilting lyric of belonging
intonated by my ardent words, unsaid.
When drifting on the delusive trail
of the melting mirage of memory menagerie
you disappeared like the dry dust
of the caved-in dune of the desolate desert,
I heard the mute me murmur, I love you,
I never said to you.
more often than not, a knightly surge
combs a pawn me,
especially after the stroke of midnight, when
hermetically sealed in my rookery,
where bats in the belfry
flap their wings at the speed
of sound times ten
thence, this king heads to his counting house
(which doubles asthma
Perkiomen Valley bishopric)
to economize on space,
especially during tax time
(as April fifteenth slowly approaches,
me heartbeat doth) quicken
though becalmed, when imbibing
idyllic, fantastic, and bucolic kingdom
Americana paintings courtesy, sans nomen
Percevel Rockwell, thus jitteriness pacified,
particularly speaking
on the telly phone with Ken
Burns, whose trademark documentaries,
particularly War between the States,
where even roosting hen
got into the frayed scrimmage vis a vis, even
chilly being egged on to surrender as Ben
a fit to this American
Civil War Yankee incarnate,
whose doodling word
ya probably don't give a hoot -Amen!
A methylated river,
Is cursed forevermore
Its waters will forever,
Lap a sulfur shore
A crimson fire river,
Of burning and sulfur,
Forever will be known as,
The Nahar di Nur
Its waters burn and blister,
They tortuously bend
To Tartarus below,
They slavishly descend
The crimson fire river,
Of burning and sulfur,
Forever will be known as,
The Nahar di Nur
I murmured to myself,
“How desolate a sight!
To behold, on this mountain,
On this supernal night!
What demonic Naiad,
Has done this to the land?
Was it Angel, or Watcher,
Nephilim, or Man?”
A Naiad of the forest,
Suddenly appeared
She told me, speaking softly,
(Which pacified my fear)
“I am no Angel, nor Watcher,
Nephilim, or Man
Yet I will surely tell you,
Who did this to the land”
“The crimson fire river,
Was once a lucid stream
It waters had the clearness,
Of a lucid dream
The fragrance of the river,
Perfumed the summer breeze
Its all-surpassing beauty,
Excelled the Pleiades”
“Yet now, the crimson river,
Is cursed forevermore
Its waters will forever,
Lap a sulfur shore
The methylated river,
Contaminates the land
Polluted by the wanton,
Activities of Man”
When the Naiad finished speaking,
She began to gently weep
Tears had starting strolling,
Down her silent cheek
She said, “Oh, in exile -
I must leave this weary land,
I must go and find a place,
Faraway from Man”
“To find waters everlasting,
As the streams within
The waters of Meribah,
The rock of Rephidim
Yea - I must fly away,
To the streams within
The waters of Meribah,
The rock of Rephidim”
Then the Naiad vanished,
And was seen no more
The only sight was current,
That lapped a sulfur shore
And the only sound was silence,
Yet unbeknownst to me
The Naiad still was weeping,
For all eternity
And the methylated river,
Is still crimson to this day
Forever will its waters,
Lap a sulfur bay
A crimson fire river,
Of burning and sulfur
Forever will be known as,
The Nahar di Nur
The autumn forest turning to framed landscape painting
absorbs on canvas the sound of rustle the leaves make
on the serene shadow engraved on the stony ground,
waits for the shrouding winter when the whisper of wind
would freeze and fall with snowflakes floating in chilled air,
blanket the cacophonous ambiance of nature on the edge,
subducting the twitter of invisible birds long disappeared.
Stealthily comes the spring and wakes up the supine buds
that unfurl with the soundless cadence of blooming beauty,
under the fleeting clouds sailing smooth in the cerulean sky.
As the amorous night descends swaying like drowsy drizzle
of silky darkness dancing to the dormant mystique melody
of moonbeam rippling on the patina of suspended stardust,
creating the hue for night’s tear drops, dew of my meadow.
The meadow I reached traversing the petrified wasteland,
emerged from abyss of condensed aloneness to be with you
in this dreaming night when the echo of your faint footsteps
faded away for the journey ended in the portal of my heart.
As ticking clock of our time stopped at the verge of eternity,
my yearning engulfed you like the sun flaming the horizon,
where the murmur of entwined hearts dissolved in oneness.
Pacified passion communicated in voiceless language of love,
composed the lyric of belonging inscribed in words unsaid.
Written : September 1, 2019
Contest : Strand Pick 3, Any Theme, Any Form
Sponsor : Brian Strand
A child of the moon she was
But quite the troublemaker she also was
Practicing forbidden magicks
While her older sisters did sleep
And what a big bang it was
That sent her into the ether
Shrouded in blue light
She did fall into a slumber she did
A being of the night he was
But quite misunderstood he also was
For his name was Dracula
Drinking red beverages at night but never blood
But what a big bang it was
That sent her crashing through the roof
Shrouded in blue light
She did awake she did
A wand of magic it was
But quite magicless it also was
Losing all of its magic moon orbs
But fret not said Dracula for he could help
And what a big bang it was
For our two spooky heroes
And Dracula fell into a coughing fit
He was dying he was
A thriving Halloween city it was
But quite full of mystical moon orbs it also was
Dracula took the witch to see
Frankenstein and his monster
And what a big bang it was
When Frankenstein's monster burst through the door
But he was also best mates with Dracula
They did hug they did
A genius of science he was
But delightfully friendly he also was
Giving the witch a tracking device
So that she could find her lost moon orbs
And what a big bang it was
When the sensors finally activated
Magic orbs were everywhere
The did find they did
A jolly good time it was
Watching our spooky heroes work
Finding magic orbs all over
While dancing with ghost boys and girls
And what a big bang it was
For the last orb was in the belly of a dragon
Who Dracula pacified with his last beverage
It was the final orb it was
A spooky party it was
Full of ghosts, goblins, and ghouls
A night to truly remember
But Dracula was nowhere to be seen
And what a big bang it was
When the witch found him dead outside
Holding a letter with his last words
That did make her cry it did
A child of the moon she was
But magicked back home she also was
Before dawn and her sisters still slept
The final words of Dracula resting beside her
And what a big bang it was
For him to have thanked her
For giving him the time of his life
She did fall into a slumber she did
7/8/22
"A stupid Battle"
So much I always had in mind
Another toke and drink of Spanish Wine
Back in flight among satellites
In multiple ways an increase in appetite
Continuing to strategize
I'm not here to 'catch a vibe'
They always try to analyze
There's nothing I have to hide
Even though it's technically confidential and classified
It is soon to catalyze
Once it's ramified
Hung up to dry like cattle hide
Cast aside
Dissatisfied
Far from pacified
It's been a sad decline
Not all shall abide
It's typically an argument and debate, rarely is it ratified
Quick to stab you in the back with knives
All these narcissists tantalize
Worldwide, way beyond Anaheim
Remember, often problems can arise
Another fool acting asinine
Trying to cut, get back in line
I don't mean to be alkaline
Just looking for my Valentine
There's no need to agonize
A stupid battle of not being able to set a glass aside
Got it all wrong, never had it right
Only concern was to love a girl like Vanna White
The old dog got a bit long in the once powerful teeth
Crushed his fangs on carrion left by the rest of the pack
Pack of cards delivered by being
Pack of lies suspended in truth
It was time to gather wounds scars and loosening grip
Maybe a new trick here or there on his visit to the tomb
Tomb of words written in anger
Tomb of scripture seeking resolve
He came to settle under Buddha’s levitating canopy
Put a fig in his mouth and tasted life’s intricate journey
Journey of illusion dispersed onto time
Journey of rest conveyed by places of comfort
Just out of sight but in contemplation and mounting doubts
As he minded himself he gazed upon a rusty barrow’s wheel
Wheel of Karma forgotten at peril
Wheel of fortune bestowed by grace
How he wished to be complete and deigned by composure
Fallible imperfect merely normal and at peace nevertheless
Less longing pacified in weary soul
Less adjudication clouding tranquility
When he took of his loin cloth and stood naked and stark
Reflected aberrations and fear a vulture caressed his skin
Skin full of hardship impermanent and mortal
Skin tattooed with ink and smouldering ashes
Prey and predator became one as shadows grew longer
He kissed the scavenger and blessed his parched tongue
Tongue of voices competing for insight
Tongue of deceit croaking temptation
The corroded buggy turned into rickshaw and palanquin
Floated on the river and embraced a path of reprieve
Reprieve from agony depression and void
Reprieve from the suffering of all suffering
He never found that intangible metaphysical wisdom
Abandoned his search for mystical philosopher’s gold
Gold never needed for making honest amends
Gold buried with a pot of tar oozing compassion
21st January 2020