Long Peephole Poems
Long Peephole Poems. Below are the most popular long Peephole by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Peephole poems by poem length and keyword.
Peeling Back the Bubble Wrap
Peeling back the bubble wrap on the ancient of days,
Back to when Nixon was still presiding,
He, leading with paranoid deliberations,
Sold his yeses to the Goldbricks, and the Mustard Men;
And while he was dipping into the rubbery tides of the latex surfers,
I found your shadowy pointing breasts, shivering outside my backdoor.
You were standing in the dark, waiting for me to turn the key…
1973 was the year you taught me how to love a woman;
You, at 21 years, and me, ensconced in the stereo-lit darkness,
Of my dimly-lit bedroom on Hoover street;
You, wearing a wool skirt and that ruffled low-curving blouse,
With those tan buttons, like a half dozen corks, ready to be popped,
And you, sitting at my black upright piano,
The 1907 Schumann, made of stubborn black mahogany, and
You, with your long curved nails, femininely tapping the ivories,
Soliciting an intimate song I have since forgotten, but can still hear,
Your cylindrical tan legs pressing the piano pedals,
Like a fragile dancer made of fine glass, and
You, exploring human desire with determined pressings.
And then, into your garlanded home we strolled,
Hand in hand; And with our lips, we cleared the stoney path
Leading into the sun garden, amongst the cats and the posies,
And found astonished silhouettes behind the peephole.
Still peeling back the bubble wrap on the ancient of days,
Back to when my door was locked, and a green candle burned therein;
I saw you in the naked flickering, riding the tree of silver ascensions,
And with five pulsing fingers, I eagerly picked your finest flowers, over there,
Inside the throbbing, sun-lit bed of this poised sun garden; then,
You told me you loved me. Told me what I never wanted to hear,
“Even now, with me on top of you, in this silent grinding darkness,
I cannot bring myself to lie and say, ‘I love you.’
There is something about you I don’t want to know.
Yours is a long and complicated book I do not wish to read.
Your mind I cannot calibrate, or truly understand, so…I am sorry.
I deserve to be called an ass, deserve to be brushed off like a gnat, but
With you, my shoes never seemed to fit. My ears never seemed to hear.”
...when the copter went down, witnesses heard you scream…
“I am truly sorry.”
“It’s a terrible love
And I’m walking with spiders…
It’s a terrible love and I’m walking in
Its quiet company…”-Birdy
Three long claws enclosed around a lone beating heart
Stone talons gripping in happy malice, silently angry by its pulse it cannot feel…
The longer I stare into the hollow sockets seeing only ugliness,
The easier it becomes to break into pieces over the mere thought of you
I thought it was a dull beat- a throbbing, fading beat disappearing into the night…
Though your image, once so grainy, is becoming clearer and clearer in the fogs of my consciousness
I thought it was just a dull, callous beat…
But the more it throbs against the stone, the more the stone cracks
The more the demon cries in anguish…the more I fall
So deeply in love have I become,
I can barely breathe in this misty embrace
The suspense of your blows make my innards whimper…make my mind shiver
My tearful eyes cry for your assurance
My body changes through the peeks of your light
It is all a joke!
This is all pathetic, low, meaningless!
Surely these claws over this heart do not exist
Holding onto nothing but dead spiders who once weaved miracles
Dust and spider legs….spider eyes…they had seen so much…felt so much with their prickly appendages
Through a lovely peephole beyond the three stoned fingers…
I see the entire world where they must have crawled
A world holding you…
If only I could hold you too…
Something tells me I would never let go if I had the chance
Something tells me I would crush you
I would turn you into dust and spider legs…
And yes, as all demons enjoy, I would lose you
In the grip of the three stoned fingers
Unless…
You were that heart I thought I had seen…
The heart that continued to beat long after it was ripped out
The clenched heart that throbbed despite its crushing cage
The very heart that bled and bled for no body and all for the sake of love
Beating and beating, cracking those frigid fingers
Into dust…
And all of the fallen limbless creatures would gather round…
And they would tell me… “He lives yet still…”
Weaving in their webs the very bloods and salts you pumped
Within me…and beyond me
Dead spiders weave and weave and weave…
And unlike human hearts, their ideas never tire
An infinite door of midnight blue;
glowing peephole that is the moon.
Dare I look before turned to dust?
Yes, dear friend, I surely must.
In the midst, a city of finest gold,
large as the earth; immense and bold.
Quoins of pearl, this must be known,
the lusture seemed a life, it's own.
Rising from it, a mountainous temple;
whisps of prayers escape the steeple.
Without the city, fields of crystal flowers,
and trees more akin to wind chime towers.
Platinum trunks doning metalic leaves.
Angelic music when brushed with their wings.
Out from all this, layers of various planes
seemingly worlds of their own, yet all of the same.
Once starving children and homeless ones too,
with comforts of home; endless tables of food.
One plane of great sports, children running free;
prosthetics and wheelchairs, now trophies and glee.
Another, Indian braves running with buffalo,
women laughing carefree with children in tow.
Serene planes of beaches and tropical breezes.
On none was found pain, lameness or diseases.
Thousands of planes, but my favorite to view;
families and the ancients with no need of adieu.
So euphoric, this sight, but there is more to tell,
as three glorious chimes of the great temple bell.
All froze still as beams of golden light
transported them to the temple in quiet.
The most beautiful prayers and songs arose.
From within the city; pure love aglow.
Three bells again and all were beamed out;
some to the same planes, some different routes.
I wanted so badly, to open the door
and be in this place forever more,
but the door was locked and I had no key,
then an angel turned and flew towards me.
Approaching the peephole, that is the moon,
It said, "Don't worry, you'll be here soon."
I have need of a key, I began to implore,
and it slipped a note neath the midnight door.
I unfolded the note; three lines within,
and three nails fell out; payment of sin.
The first line proclaimed, the door was faith.
The second; the beams are God's loving grace.
Overcome by peace as I read the third line.
Jesus is the way, the truth and the light,
and I remembered a scripture that so sweetly states;
"For by grace, through faith, are ye saved."
Yet again the door is being knocked
For ages it’s been closed
Who's there?
The Sun looks down
The Breeze Halts!
Tulips raise their heads in delight..
But the Cascade continue to flow__ like an indifferent Bee
Knock___ knock___ Knock!
How persistent the knocking is...!!
But what is there?
Its light from the peepholes
Enlightens every corner of the Valley,
Old Cider tree opens his eyes
Sheds away, with one jerk,
All dead leaves...
Pale, sick and dried..
Which now floats on the waves,
Concealing image of the orange sitting sun,
In the cascade__ for a while.
At once, Gigantic Mountain roars in panic,
The sun closes its eyes,
Breeze hides away in a dark cave,
Tulips are now harming themselves in despair,
For the light from peephole is fading..
I can hear sound of a pair of feet going away..
There is but No more knocking…
It’s dark now!
Tiny little moon is waiting for the stars to shine,
The valley is silent
But noice of Cascade, ____ of distance Wolves
And somewhere far behind the Forbidden Forest
The door is still closed…
~~~~~~_____________***____________~~~~~
____________________________________________________________________________________
3rd December, 2020 (12: 01)
Originally posted in February, 2020.
Note:
Cascade symbolizes TIME.
Sitting sun: End of life or old age, sadness etc.
Somebody asked me what does the Line "Concealing image of the orange sitting sun, In the cascade" mean. Here is the explanation: when you get rid of your burdens, pains, worries etc, that's the moment when you are truly alive. You might you even stop aging if you are happy. Same happenens here, deade leaves of Cider (burdens, tensions & illness of it) hide sitting sun's reflection in fhe water.
And I hope you have noticed the pronoun *I* which as you can see, appeared quite late in the poem. Happens when you nullify/neglect yourself. This "I" is thematically very significant.
Plus note, the Valley is behind the forbidden forest, that is also thematically important.
Morning light shimmers
Floating dust welcome;
Excited salutation
World awakes
Noisy traffic;
Rush of work day
Knock on the door
Peephole lookout;
Real estate agent
Morning cuppa
Fortified supplements;
Health insurance
Bamboo trees
Walkway sentinels;
Windy voices hum
Old plumeria tree
Speaks in vivid colours;
Reds, yellows, whites bloom
Lift alarm screaming
Fire drill or short circuit;
Irritating noise
Balcony view
Ant-people far below;
Busy antics ply
Temple oracle
Praying on a wish;
Curious bystanders
Church petitions
Man keeps busy asking;
Attendance compulsory
Despite our faiths
Man remains unchanged;
Unsure and insecure
Voice of dawn
Hurling new songs;
Rapture unnoticed
Bold ideas fashion
New collections;
Recycle old orbits
Day after day
Same old, same old;
What's new pussycat
Hymn and prayer
Endless petitions;
Too much noise
Go deeply now
Linger right here;
Discern afresh
When, where and how
Who, why and what;
Unanswered questions
Weary and tired
Dreary world swirls;
Awaiting salvation
Look beyond reason
To fit new rhymes;
Seasonal permutations
Looking out
Peeping in;
Who cares
Lost in the crowd
I search for something;
I don't know why
Rules are rules
Useful as tools;
Transcend and discard
Once in a while
A sincere smile;
Cynics fling piles
Go beyond terms
Let feelings style;
Spontaneous voice
Seek then the light
Beyond meaning;
Seize true rapture
When the soul awakes
Magic and mystic
Charm with bold say
Words once empty
Pregnant with rapture;
Creation sings
In a clear vessel
The empty space:
Is most valuable
Go beyond form
Beyond norm;
Flirt with impulse
Words are devices
Language crude formats;
Soul sublimates
Sense a sure gap
Between said and done;
Herein possibilities field
Leon Enriquez
16 August 2014
Singapore
When they couldn't sedate me
And needed to cut strips of flesh
From my eyelid, I heard the sizzle
Smelled the scalpel burning as it sliced
And glimpsed the steam rising
Through a peephole under the
Sterile towel tent covering my face
Flesh harvested from my eyelid
grafted into the cavern under my eye
Pit left from digging the cancer filled
One hundred and twenty three tiny stitches later
an ice bag tapped to my head with a warning
it would hurt like hell when the Lidocaine died
I lied-I was going back to my hotel
And on that dark highway in the pouring rain
I could see well enough with one eye
Until sixty miles west on I-80
Burning hot all consuming hell, stabbing, sharp, wish I were dead
Pulled over into aq Wendover casino
To kill the pain
When I'm drinking and gambling, life doesn't hurt.
Faded away until it really wasn't there
Enough to sober up, get back in my truck
Poorer than I was--but money
Never made me happy.
You did
My emergency contact.
My ride home
Pathetic that this is your poem
You are not a bad person.
You gave yourself away.
You took yourself back.
And that's alright
I take me back, too
And like that, there's no emergency contact
No one to drive me home
And I wish you had a better poem
Than this...
I'm-hurt-you-should-feel-sorry-for-me
and my wounded heart
Attempt to what?
Get you back? Hell-no
Don't know what you were, or why
But you had to be removed
Just like the cancer in my eye--you had to go
It's not pretty and leaves a big hole
That some other part of me must fill
It's uncomfortable
And it hurts
Yeah...
and there's nobody to drive me home
But I've been through worse
I'm happy to turn the page
If there's something better for you
There's something better for me
Something better than this
Pain management poem.
That you will never read, but somehow
Makes me feel better
Adios, Felicia
Welcome signs spreads dah floor_
And here I stand just before.
There’s Happy people inside therein_
It's soon to open_ don't know when.
Peeping through dah peephole
waving to dah crowd_
doing my best_ not ta get loud.
I keep-a ringing dah doorbell_
could give a shout er yell;
darn things' a'working_
as far as I give tell.
Welcome signs spreads dah floor_
And here I stand just before.
There’s Happy people inside therein_
It's soon to open_ don't know when.
Seeing through dah win'da and whaddaya know_
They’s doing the limbo and dah dirty disco.
Musics' a'playing_ They’s a'dancing the jig
Ole man Thomas' bout to lose his wig.
There’s and ole friend o mine.
chugg-in on tasty moon shine_
while sipping Pete's brandy wine.
N starr-in at dah pretties n fine
Welcome signs spreads dah floor_
And here I stand just before.
There’s Happy people inside therein_
It's soon to open_ don't know when.
Aww smokes alive_ They got Toro cigars_
see-em plucking ashes in dah ole fruit jar_
n havin knee slappin funnin at dah end of dah bar.
Oh darnit to devil_ my unlucky stars
cain't they hear me bangin so_
won't be long_ but I don't know.
Its been a while now just a bit_
Lets turn the knob or jiggle it.
Welcome signs spreads dah floor_
And here I stand just before.
There’s Happy people inside therein_
It's soon to open_ don't know when.
Porch light shi-nin clean in my face_
what's dah password ta-git in dis place?
I can do dah tap, dah twist and dah flip_
Can I pleeease come in for just a sip.
Guard dogs a'barkin all dis time_
Inclined to become friends o mine.
Open up _if you’d be so kind
Or is membership here’s by strange design?
Welcome signs spreads dah floor_
And here I stand just before.
Why I keep a'knocking_ just what for?
Cuz whatever I do_ they just ignore.
Upon eve, in the morning of spring, I witnessed the waltz of Mother Nature through the
shaded evergreens.
An apparition, personification of my daydreams, she did a ritual dance on bare-feet, while, I
stooped down (hidden) on bended knee.
All the souls of nature, from the grass to the springs, sprouted to human forms around her.
For she was their Goddess.
An earth quake rippled through the ground up to the air, sound as an awaken soul,
destroying the old with new, an instant out of phase with time; Fantasy clashing with reality.
The scene before me was as dark as it was beautiful, violence intermixed with serenity,
exhilarating my soul with desire. This is how the moment was painted.
The dance floor was a battlefield of motion and form, chaos fueling their souls, the hour:
midnight. Sky was full of an alien audience of stars acting in accordance with their part. Air
held amplified scents from all of nature around them.
Magical beings like animals fighting for supremacy to exist, ripping at each-others souls, at
their organic flesh, shredding each-other into mulch. Music: the cries of the plants.
How deep the torment and content ran within them, ghosts of former selves floating to
heaven like angels. Others, regenerating into the soil their essence, sprouting up in
abundance. Mother nature their mediator. For this was the Waltz of the Seasons.
Then, as quickly as it began, all the magic faded to obscurity as Mother Nature walked on.
Leaving behind the coliseum of change. Leaving behind this reporter, observing through
realities peephole.
http://artcomet.blogspot.com/2009/12/waltz-of-mother-nature.html
Form:
Kiss of Judas, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s Le Baiser de Judas by T. Wignesan
In our century where one sells father and mother
Husband his wife and wife her husband
And who doesn’t with ease dispose the only brother
Gives up yet two scorched by blade and fire
Of course breath comes hard to him who thus
Horribly heartless sacrifices his friend
But efforts turn to Nought before man comes of age
Who without remorse at first is forced to vomit
Disembowelled in one’s own mummified body
No one’s spared by the multitude
Which draws us into it all like an epidemic
Each is smothered in the crowd as in the prison cell
All become lambs : who’s to be betrayed first
Under constant surveillance yet others to victimise
Each spies within the circle surrounding him
His soul lives stuck to the peephole
And if while in their midst they catch him in the act
To punish him they give him up to the Law
Thus every man in the steps of an apostle
Seeking to be approved worships the Law
The great one-eyed lady
The arrogant goddess
Whoever stands for such justice demeans his spirit
And creates in us a vile and villainous heart
In the name of the men of law and the public force
All functionaries like you and I
In this Darkness where Emptiness reigns supreme
I mete justice out to Judas
What he did he did for me
So that I might in turn do the same
Kissing the forehead in good faith
To such as he all over the earth
Every day umpteen times I vow
The mecanical anger
Of the labourers of the Law
(from Pierre Emmanuel’s Les Jours de la Passion)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, October 11, 2014
.Y r men dog if women cnt be *****es
Y r women hoes if men also out here gettin it
Y do we fite wit guns instead of hands
Y do lil niggaz get guns n think dey da man
Y did ppl tell me I was gonna be nuttin in life
Y did I fuk dat gurl? Dat was somebodys "wife"
Y do I get stared at by white ppl
Y do blk ppl die first in erry sequal
Y r we walkin through da world blind
Y dnt we let our inner souls shine
Y do we as men chase da cat
Y do ladies put it out dere to gives us somethin to bite at
Y do rappers influence kids to use violence
Y did da world fuk maya angelou to where she lived in silence
Y do ppl die at all
Y can't dey stay wit us n live a life so long
Y do dese fuk niggaz beat women
Y do dese dumb women keep lettin em
Y don't dese dead beat dads do somethin
Y don't dese baby mommaz stop frontin wen dey do somethin
Y I cnt jus have a gurl fo me n ain't fo da team
Y she gotta be a hoe or gold digga dats only bout dat cream
Y chiks fitin ova niggaz n vice versa
Y is ***** niggaz becomin contagious like mersa
Y do ppl talk about chu n den smile like thangs kool
Y do da person protectin his life get put outta skool
Y am I too nice to ppl
Y do I see through games like a peephole
Y r we shunned fo not goin to church
Y do da ppl dat shun do dirt afta church
Y da ppl dat dnt like me jus stare
Y do I be laughin wen i see em errywhere
Y am I such an ******* now
Y do females gotta keep playin around
Y u hataz mad at me
Y am I askin dat question? Y'all cn stay mad at me
Form: