Long Paralysis Poems
Long Paralysis Poems. Below are the most popular long Paralysis by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Paralysis poems by poem length and keyword.
Blades of grass, wet under foot, insect eyes
Dusk, offset by the cricket orchestra
Muted and receding into the trees and bushes,
Tickled by the wind, rattling snake tail wind
While we may be in the company of wolves,
A long legged friend is late for the party
Eyes, little iridescent stars
Attending to each one, and look there,
There she is, making the most beautiful geometry
Parallels within the octagons, pulling silks
An arm for every task, little perpetual motion machine
Is that the Queen of the Night under the rusted iron?
A forlorn lady, black patent leather, kill a man, maybe two
With her danger red symmetry, oozing with youth
And a penchant for paralysis, no one can resist her wine
Then there's the hall of cob webs, threadbare handkerchiefs
Left by ladies who exhausted all of their company
To be a spectacle under the moon, in the wood pile
Dressed up in the finest furs, all earth tones
Stepping out to introduce themselves in girlish droves
Venus of another sort, these little cursed jezebels
Hovering on the skin of the water, or on the red brick wall
Must frequent every happy corner, and slip away at a moment's notice
A real lady always knows when to say goodnight
Such graceful exits through cement cracks
Back to the parlor, to glow in the dark
And they become spiders again
A monster they call me, but I was once a man.
I loved my younger brother as only a brother can.
But also I loved Tatyana; she was my heart’s desire.
But she beheld my brother Sergei and my hope became a pyre.
My heart she shattered and burned to the ground.
I felt forced to kill my brother, for without him around
Tatyana would have to be mine, can’t you see?
But what did she do? She fled away from me.
I sealed my fate by killing Sergei on their wedding day.
The Dark Ones would give me power if I’d do as they say.
Murder empowered me, but also it was my curse.
Super strength and speed were mine; but there are things worse.
A vampire who reigns supreme – that should be enough.
Instead I suffer loneliness; my grief is so very tough.
Tatyana was repulsed by my killing her groom, my brother.
But how could she be mine if she could love only another?
She went and threw herself from the castle tower.
Saving her was the one thing for which I had no power.
Oh, the agony I suffer because she took her life.
Why did she have to want to ever be my brother’s wife?
My kingdom Barovia is a cursed landscape.
It’s surrounded by a mist that no one can escape.
Yet this is my protection since I can’t be touched by light.
Tortured by my love of Tatyana is to be my plight.
I can shape-shift and control you as a vampire with mystique.
So go ahead and call me monstrous and sadistic.
Even if you drove through my heart a wooden stake,
a short paralysis in me is all that you would make.
There’s a way that I can die, but do you suppose
I’d tell you just like that? I have way too many foes.
I’m Count Strahd van Zarovitch, and I wield great might.
Let others suffer the same as I. In that I take delight.
When you look at your reflection in a mirror, what do you see?
I see a failure, and that failure is me.
I feel like I’m stuck yet I pace up and down.
My face is etched with a worrying frown.
The problem is I tend to fester and then over-think.
At times It’s so bad I feel like I need a drink.
My stomach’s in knots and my mind in a different place.
There’s just so much that I simply can’t face.
But this analysis paralysis will not be the end of me.
First steps needed – deep breaths and a cup of tea.
Music helps me to relax and to calm.
I know that I have support so I’m safe from any harm.
I’m loved by others which makes me warm inside.
I will keep on going – one day I’ll hold my head up with pride.
Last night I dreamed I was being sexually assaulted. It was happening behind a big store sign set up on a sidewalk. The guy at first was just talking in a wheedling way about having to take care of a child and wanting my advice. I said I had none but he insisted on telling me all his boring ****.
I tried to leave from behind the sign but he grabbed my shoulders and was tossing me on the ground while grinding his face into my neck. I tried to yell but couldn't; tried to fight back but was paralyzed. Suddenly the natural sleep-paralysis broke and I threw myself forward, landing hard beside the bed, twisting a leg muscle pretty badly. I think it may be the first time I ever fell out of bed.
By Parizo Van Thulare
Too much feelings that I've invented
Too much much of my time that I spent
Loving the wrong
Hoping for the best
I've Sacrificed with all I had
Telling myself I would be enough
Thinking some days I will sing those of Ralph
Unaware I was polishing a dynamite
That which fell on my phalanges
That which put my soul in paralysis
Yet here I am on the west
With no tear to shed
No feeling to share
My heart is in square shape
No beats ,I feel no change
No ticks , quite as the orphanage
I fell but my feelings won't catch me
I tried but love won't let me
Sometimes I'm bored
Not for long I abort
How am i going to live with such an empty heart ?
How long will it take my scars to heal ?
I feel no love anymore
So down ,all of me is lost
Ungodly Gorgeous
Written By: D. Collins 10/29/14
She’s so ungodly gorgeous she should be ashamed of herself.
Possessing so much dominant beauty over everyone else.
The air stands still when she walks into a room.
She gives a winter chill to hot days in June.
She is nature showing off with near perfect design.
An anomaly created only once in awhile.
She’s ungodly gorgeous with tantalizing traits.
The envy of all women and their persistent hate.
She doesn’t wear make-up. Her hair and nails are real.
Her pearly white smile really enhances her grill.
She has a body that took the form of an hour-glass.
And, a personality gleaming with unparalleled class.
All traffic stands still when she’s in a public place.
There is instant paralysis in seeing her lovely face.
She’s ungodly gorgeous compared to others I’ve seen.
Without doubt, she is the Goddess we see in our dreams.
Anna and I were sitting on an outdoor bench. To get some fresh air, our classes are virtual this week and we were feeling claustrophobic. I was working on a poem idea on my iPad and Anna was uploading an assignment from her laptop.
The bench is by a walkway and there were a few people passing by. I asked Anna, “What’s an alternative word for paralysis?” And three rando students walking by answer my question, in less time than Anna can even look up from her Mac.
“Tetraplegia,” says a girl on the far side of the walk - who passed us right to left - her friends laughed at her for answering my question. “Palsy,” says a guy who was passing the other way, on our side - he didn’t even look up from his phone. And last, a guy behind the girls says, “standstill.”
I just look up and smile - I love this place. Everyone’s friendly and collaborative. There’s an almost homogeneous curiosity about the world.
“Maybe I should create a sidewalk, crossword-puzzling channel on Twitch?” I ask Anna, who just shook her head, “No.”
A shadowy figure has visited thrice.
It's neither demonic, human nor a creature.
It has no form, no voice, no face
Nor has it any feature!
When it arrives tween sleep and awake
Where dreams and reality merge,
There's full body paralysis but a very active mind
A bolt of fright through me does surge!
Each time, it puts pressure on my chest
But stops suddenly pre suffocation.
Though it doesn't exist, its presence feels real.
Is it only my imagination?
This silent shadow turns the room cold.
It switches off inner fight or flight.
But the freeze mode sets right in
As this happened always in the dead of night.
I'm curious to know why it appears
During times of stress. What's its identity?
Does it know that neurologists call it
An aspect of Narcolepsy?
Written 11th December 2021
For the Paranormal Contest
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
I endure my arrogance like a leftover twin
absorbed during gestation,
seeing myself in everything, not only the eyes
that watch me rocking back and forth in a corner
in order to flip my house right-side up.
What’s left on the roadside is me, too.
I am wholly grateful for the retrospect when I listen,
slump-cheeked and reddening with introspective embarrassment,
dumb as an eyeball glaring down the barrel of a mandatory gavel,
self-awareness knows when you know they got you.
Argumentation is the art of capitulating as a sail
pulling down your head in a strong wind,
it's knowing when to go method, get Zen.
It is the biggest picture, zoomed in to view a passage,
out to capture rainfall in a tarp, knowing
the ocean won’t miss a few drops,
let's call it a potion.
Of my arrogance and I, our story, I will it
to the lowest bidder, as sinners seeking
asylum in an empyrean reliquary,
only the meek may enter,
my barrier is wrestling whether an artist should
be making their own bed in the morning
like a rusted hinge I stay pinned to the mattress
grasping at a careworn comforter, with both hands
weighing the gravity of the imbalance, the divisions
of labor unfavoring the languishing necessary
to push past the paralysis.
I will that our seizing be taken for breathing
and leaves us to being, finally, at rest
with ourselves.
Without intervention of opinion, although taken
with salt, is a different flavor of reason that brings us
to an alphabet soup I see myself in, because this soup,
too is part of the arrogant everything I earlier mentioned
is my twin.
On her birthday, her father gifted her with a manuscript
Meditational insights, he could not as yet publish
The treatise was titled ‘Truth of Life Decrypt’
‘Read by touch’ he urged ‘start to finish’
Life is a flow; thus, do not try to hold
Rather, surf over the waves in celebration
Explore wonders yet untold, be fearless and bold
With mindful eye, feel sensations of offered vibration
Analysis is paralysis, all that is, is pure consciousness
Clear light dawns in aliveness of vibrant silence
Recognise the trinity of our innate awareness
Centred in heart as bubbling innocence
Feel the rhythm of breath as life in-pours
God Himself breathes life into this feeble form
Cessation before exhalation can open hidden doors
Melding self therein, we feel a gentle, benign bliss storm
Such was the hypnotic synopsis of the books preface
Inviting her to contemplate, reading between lines
Fears and desires the nemesis, life not a race
Boundless joy is ours, if with love we align
Now not merely reading, she is so living
Meditation her default ever flowing orientation
In God trusting: imbibing, assimilating and releasing
Distilling each impulse in the omnipresent love vibration
12-May-2021
He gave her a book poetry contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose