Long Petrify Poems
Long Petrify Poems. Below are the most popular long Petrify by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Petrify poems by poem length and keyword.
Crystal ball, thy spirit.
Cast thee a mighty spell.
Vision sacred, let's hear it.
Voice of mine, pell-mell.
Tress and trawler, set thy hooks.
River bed to dredge.
Recipes we learned in books?
Formation, wild wedge.
Coal, control, bell toll, sail, soul.
Down the delta wide.
Wasteland, when you set a goal.
Woe, when you betide.
Chicken farm, thy tender.
Politics, tough thy game.
Doubtless, O defender.
Katabothron, quay, claim.
Current, channel. Atmosphere.
Particles, spread out.
Cloud cover, sere or severe?
Cannibal, red rout!
Trickle, stickleback. Code crack.
Fortresses, thy stack.
Under attack? Dinner pack.
Flak ahead? Shellac.
Yawndrift, yucca, yellow eyes.
Oceanic rift.
Circumspect the council's cries?
Petrify, wood. Gift.
Bank, holding of money.
Tornado, spinning fast.
Clown, well, life is funny.
Mead honey, my good ghast?
Mosque cowed covenant I keep Putin off...
and withheld broadcasting
the following communication
tucked away these many years,
when president number forty five
donned, jump/kick started, and tweeted
thru his musky, albeit flabby mantle,
a rallying cry forewarning onset of Mag(m)a
bubbling, gurgling, lobbing, and spewing lava
against backdrop of his trumpeting vitriolic
political preservation, salvation,
and veneration, though with hold
ding temptation tomb mike -
(make) pence sieve lee clear,
the immoral majority mold
toot hoods, (those bajillion
Americans unanimously polled)
did want me to broadcast, communicate,
and declare, sans incendiary fold
drawl (folderol) feigning migrant accent,
(no matter I'm getting older than Methuselah),
nonetheless Ivana trumpet from Taj Mahal
straight to Mar-A-Lago) all told,
plus thank Republicans
(past or present), who extolled,
an invisible grandiose fire walled
barricade (donning, enclosing,
and fortifying) against Carl mauled
din lookalike hackers,
despite one sporting "FAKE"
hook nosed, hunchbacked
adorned, donned with (Turin) shawled,
shrouded, and disguised vagrant, indigent,
double chinned agent - bald
(except for being bewigged),
viz flowing locks of "FAKE" gold
in toe with Amazon heavily funded
unbridled trailing retinue
chanting appellation Matthew
Scott Harris alias Oswald),
no matter said faux
renegade twittering lobbyists
to flock (like lemmings) within his fold,
and will laughably petrify
any vigilantes dead cold,
what with his bugs
bunny eyed (What's up Doc)
intent reader rabbit stare,
that doth playfully scold
any Bare Ladies scantily
linkedin, NOT nsync
with netiquette politesse mold
gobbledygook communication, (asper
my pork chopped message
higglety pigglety divulged)
obeying tacit gold
din rule to hoodwink public, nonetheless
lemme exemplify, how I plan to hold
world web electronically hostage
by secret Ransomware sold,
thru dark wide whirled web
cryptocurrency bitcoin blockchain trolled
under auspices, sans
omnipotent NON GMO
gluten free CRISPR rolled
oat sized INTEL nanobots,
no bigger than mold
spores heavily monitoring
meant to fortify electronic threads
woven into a virtual tapestry
likened to Dickensian chain e-mail
intent to foment pandemonium
at expense to captcha totalitarianism,
whereby democracy imperiled.
Your goodliness and Godliness parades around in my head
and makes me scoff.
I used to be that way too but the devil came by with her enticing ways.
She had such a convincing spiel, I followed her gladly.
Understanding now that the sinner part of me is more fun than not.
Do you want to be stagnant? Stale? Left in the dirt?
An old maid or worse?
Your prissy ways and persnickety attitude
is going to cause you to petrify.
You will never experience the little death if you remain on this track.
Come play with me, hear the pipes? Frolic and dance; the time is ripe.
You deserve to live; eat from the fatted calf, drink some red wine.
Stop standing in the mirror of others, nurture your wanton side.
Lust and love, that’s all there is baby, and money and greed.
Let yourself have a taste of the life you crave, the good life.
They who pressure you into purity are jealous of your youth.
They want you to become moldy, green, yesterday’s bread.
Do not waste your talents, your hunger is vast
You are voluptuous, adventuresome. Taste some life my friend!
Let me help you by leading the way.....
There is a name the dusk will keep,
A low, unuttered thing—
It stirs beneath the olive leaves
And will not rise or sing.
Rocco, they said, as if a bell
Had tolled beneath the sea,
And something cold with jeweled eyes
Turned once, and looked at me.
No wind had moved, no branch had sighed,
Yet stillness grew so deep
I felt the world draw in its breath
As though it feared to speak.
Basalisk—O shadowed word,
With fire beneath its skin,
You walk the edges of the heart
And turn all longing thin.
For beauty held too long, they say,
Will harden into stone,
And eyes that dare to love too much
May petrify their own.
So let me pass with lowered gaze
Where quiet mercies lie,
Nor meet the gleam that stills the soul
And teaches it to die.
Yet somewhere in that silent dark
A fragile sorrow wakes—
For even stone remembers once
The shape that love could take.
Carved of one stone strong, you and I
In our texture same lattice lie
Oneness binds our grains together.
Eroding times' wrath can’t alter
Twined heart's tie even if they try.
On our common strength we rely
People don't fail to wonder why
In diverse life stature we are
Made of one stone.
On us, time a river flows by
Souls shine, two minds fuse, petrify
On face of lithic still mirror
We see us made for each other.
For final sleep on bed we’ll lie
Made of one stone.
Written : November 4, 2017.
Form : Rondeau. Syllable count : 8 each line except for 4 in last lines of stanzas 2,3.
March 23, 2020
Contest : Strand Choice O, Any Form, Any Theme
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Never have I felt the sun shine
Or heard blowing wind speak
Within this cavern I align
Frozen in stalactite confine
I dream drips of dew drops unique
Formed by the sun I seek
One of the countless stalagmite
Protect the cavern floor
Facing our northern brothers height
Waiting here unmoving, my plight
Made of their drops, solid to core
Yet I want to be more
Not to be still rock formation
Dependent of their scrap
To grow on in bright elation
Not in this darkest damnation
Not to feel like nature's mishap
To feel caught in a trap
I could be flora lush and green
Pure dew on fragile leaves
Only my wildest roots unseen
Branches with elements convene
Reaching for solar rays achieves
Reprieves by shadow thieves
I’ll wait for giving’s from above
Fall to our rounded tops
Our centuries of growth thereof
To petrify, not push or shove
Wishing this muddy water swaps
With fresh gleaming dew drops
Inspired by the song,
Dance Of Death by Iron Maiden
Let me tell you a story that will petrify you
I will share what happened
One night when I was in Paris on vacation
I was drinking coffee at a cafe
At a table alone in an outside terrace
Then, I decided on a walk under the moon
With the stars winking at me
I was enjoying the solitude
Unaware that I was being followed
From a distance I was being stalked
I ran feeling scared and fell
As something cold touched me
A handsome man stood blocking my path
Oh, there was evil in his eyes
Lets go for a drink he suggested to me
Reaching out for my hand
That is when the dance of the dead began
As that hand felt dead
Into a circle of fire I was led
I seemed to be in a trance
Soon, I was encircled by the dead
Dancing with the dead
Time stopped and I was frozen with fear
But, still I danced
And the blaze of the fire grew higher
I danced on burning coals
But felt nothing
My soul and spirit was leaving
Oh, if only someone could pull me back
If only someone had witnessed this
I danced, and twirled and sang for them
They watched me with dead eyes
Lifeless, empty men
They had ascended from hell
I danced with the dead, laughing
howling for them
My body felt heavy and cold
As I danced in the circle of death
A fight started and took the attention from me
I fled running faster than the wind
I just looked straight ahead running, running
Thinking they will come after me, I am doomed
I should have said my last goodbyes
To my family and my friends
Since that night when I am laying in bed
I wake from my dreams to dance with the dead
Since that night when I am laying in bed
I wake from my dreams to dance with the dead
To dance with the dead
I remember those days when I'd pray it would rain
My heart then a vibrant flower in full bloom
I recall the drops hiding tears from unending pain
Trying to mask the scent of betrayal's perfume
My heart then a vibrant flower in full bloom
She forgave freely without regard for her sanity
Trying to mask the scent of betrayal's perfume
Her petals slowly petrify surrounded by inanity
She forgave freely without regard for her sanity
Though that flower still holds her beautiful pose
Her petals slowly petrify surrounded by inanity
They can no longer get to that perfect stone rose
Though that flower still holds her beautiful pose
I recall the drops hiding tears from unending pain
They can no longer get to that perfect stone rose
I remember those days when I'd pray it would rain
10/13/2016
Cackles were heard from down under on a hill far away
fifty little saucy spiders scurry helter skelter out to play
A hefty witch stirs her cauldron next to her Bagoon
snake eyes spoon an evil mush as feet dance around the room
Strumpa strumpa crumpetta crumpetta, stomps and rhythms yes they're dead
The stars in heaven grow fangs and the moon wears a skirt of thorns
chainsaw demons flee the sky with decapitated scorn
Oh my oh my Halloween frights are here, although the night is young
old smelly garlic garlands have been strung,
Strumpa strumpa crumpetta crumpetta, stomps and rhythms yes they're dead
She's here to petrify, terrify, horrify and glorify her trade
when they get here they will drink purple blue Kool-aid
Oh Gee Oh Gosh she has lost her pompadour galosh
perhaps its hiding in the pumpkin squash
Strumpa strumpa crumpetta crumpetta, stomps and rhythms yes they're dead.
The Slow Fade
I'm not here to feed your ego like a hungry god,
Or to validate your decisions like sacred dogmas,
You remain stiff and refuse to grow like spring flowers,
I will begin my journey toward fading like the mist,
While you petrify in your own mausoleum cold.
I'm going to start acting like you, mirror of cold crystal,
To reflect your actions like stains upon the soul,
You push and pull, stop, then start again like the waves,
You force me into this fading like a sad liturgy,
Until my existence becomes phantom in your eyes.
I'm not here for your crumbs of dried affection meager,
My hunger for more cannot be postponed like death,
You flee when connection comes like storm over fields,
Now is the time for my fading like the morning smoke,
To melt slowly into the nothingness of my own choice.
I don't feel you in this void like in an ice sarcophagus,
But rather as though I've been a puppet in your theater,
You resist all emotions to avoid even more the contact,
You push me into this silent fading like into a burial,
Where words die before they find their way to the heart.
I will no longer follow you like a mirage in the desert,
When choosing me makes you tremble like an autumn leaf,
You act as though loving me would be a bitter chore,
For this reason I choose to fade like the evening shadow,
To become an untold story in your book of melancholy deep.