Long Piteous Poems
Long Piteous Poems. Below are the most popular long Piteous by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Piteous poems by poem length and keyword.
The ***** she brought to the marriage
is bawling again.
Something must have woken it up
as it slept in its drawer
where she keeps her special underwear.
Turning to me in the dark.
"Can you see to it?" she ask sleepily.
I turn the nightlight on.
Opening the drawer
piteous cries fill the room,
they jump through walls
causing neighbors to dream
of riding motorbikes.
I wrap the toy up
in a small child's blanket,
its sobs becoming quieter.
She stir under the blankets.
"You always did resent it, “
she mutters.
I slip into a dream,
one where the *****
sleeps happily between us like a baby,
maybe I’ll buy her a dog.
Oh Hillary, dear Hillary what did I hear
Your emails were given without any care
The powers that be have relented this truth
To empower your foes with the absence of couth
Oh Hillary, dear Hillary what did you say
More "glittering generalities" one could absorb in a day
Just listening and knowing that the general facts
Have no fidelity or sincerity when down to brass tacks
Oh Hillary, dear Hillary your words should take heed
Perverting their meaning by twisting their deed
To make claims of human kindness with your heart fully filled
With the ice of deceit and a soul that is nil
Oh Hillary, dear Hillary you seem larger than life
But the facts of the matter are way more than rife
Your little mind, soul and heart is piteous at best
To think you can fool all of us is one naive, shortsighted and ill-advised test!
Oh Hillary, dear Hillary you're like a chick out of its nest
Your posture cannot cure, nor your clothes deceive the best
Of the denizens of state that require you to be strong
When deep down inside you indistinctly don't belong.
From Fifteen to Fifteen,
All the love and memories and framed moments in between,
befitting we fell on artificial lovers holiday, you with brow the jaw
the hair, me with the lust the love the desire,
a willing participant
I purview no writing on the wall
the depths of pain to come that future is so far— I cannot see it,
the willingness to be vulnerable in your love,,, surmising I won’t be
around long enough for its piteous end…Ah but I am the tortuous the
pit,
the glare of eternity is now before me
The end-- the end of us all
this rock, this ball spinning with mad energy in the universe, and the
tiny dramas played out laughable ha ha ha! Laughable….
In the agony the depths of despair you know you’re alive… the spirit
awakens it wishes to flee the tomb of flesh,
all the symbolism in numbers 13 unlucky, eight you are, 15 your gone…
a cold and rainy November condensation-- fogging along with my breath
The interior of my car—obscures my teary vision of you driving away….
its the 15th of November, it is raining—so am I
I’m still here…
Flip flops and straw hat adorn him, beach wear suits him nicely
Kind is he to her as he scoops into a bucket measuring precisely
Casted are his piteous passions in sunstruck warm sands
Gently shaping and capturing her likeness, she is in skilled hands
Stooping over chin to knee he bares bronze shoulders glimmering
Her features delicate, her hair etched in his mind flowing, shimmering
An energy is sensed as sand and water caress through his fingers
Behold if only Aphrodite answers his prayer, he pauses and lingers
Recollection clears a birth, breath of life be given this inanimate object
A saintly face faintly appears, he’s fallen in love with his imminent project
Sculpting feminine curves slowly surfacing, an hourglass figure shaped
An alluring amazon controls his very soul, an apotheosis angel draped
Belief in a statue which comes to life, vehemently pangs the phenomenon
Alas the last touches fini, fervently he unveils his seaside Pygmalion
And without further ado, emerging from the ivory sand, he prizes
An obsession his idée fixe at the edge of the pier, a sand goddess arises
I tell the tale of a widow,
aged only twenty-three,
in this I have first-hand knowledge,
she was mother to me.
We lived in a house by the waves,
father lay in an ocean grave,
and many men would vie to ‘save’
a woman so pretty.
So met a young man named Calvin,
who’d seen twenty-six years,
he lifted her form father’s loss,
helped dry away the tears.
She lived in sin, within his arms,
he seemed so helpless to her charms,
it left her neighbors quite alarmed,
and some did speak their fears.
They whispered that young Calvin was
a lout and a drunkard,
seen him carousing in taverns,
and oh, the tales they heard.
He’d have a drink, then want two more,
Bbow all his money on the whores,
the damndest rake along the shore,
these stories did disturb.
But ma chose not to believe them,
tried to pay it no mind,
even though as a sailor he
was gone months at a time.
She clung hard to her point-of-view
that her Calvin was ever-true,
an outlook shared by very few,
they thought the man malign.
Calvin had been gone for four months,
and rumor had just grown,
they said he’d sired bastard kids,
other women he’d known.
It soon became talk of the town,
we kept hearing it all around,
and ma’s depression did abound,
heard her piteous moans.
It finally came to a head
when I had turned just five,
a neighbor came racing to us,
Calvin she had espied!
Her man had not traveled that far,
he was down in a local down,
her reputation, it was marred,
she shut herself inside.
It was only a month later
when he ‘returned’ from work,
and mother, she lashed out at him,
called him ‘liar’ and ‘jerk.’
She told him that he had been seen
drinking with ladies crass and mean,
she declared it an ‘awful dream,’
so massive was her hurt...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
The mortal extraction of your consciousness.
Each word hums through my blood, the slaps of silvers coaxing the cries of my crimson.
A label of eternity, meandered into the muster of your grime, breathing my bond to life.
The bond of my cease.
The bond of my desire.
The bond of my boon.
The serenity of your essence sprouts my veins; a constant bourgeon to the yield of my being.
I am bound to the tranquillity of your solitude.
Each kiss a desperate gasp for something but the void of my arteries.
Each kiss a piteous offering for something but the eternity of my devotion.
Each kiss an awaited bequest for something other than the relict of my bloodline.
I am yours.
A previous assertion to the testimony of your love.
A current avowal to the testimony of your pledge.
A future declaration to the testimony of your tenure.
Belonging is a concept etched into the dejection of my skin; a belonging embedded within each breath, sending way to the rock of my revolve.
I love you.
Though, three syllables will never be enough to articulate the exploitation of my dread, forever marred within the lines of my shambles.
Yet, even then,
I love you, my moon.
On such a dreary and dismal night;
no moon in the sky to give them light.
The black cat and the raven, out for a stroll
through the neighborhood to take in the sight,
saw a bloodstained image that chilled to the soul.
In the distance was heard a piteous scream;
like a scream only heard in a hideous dream.
The cat to the raven, “What do you make of this;
are these sights and sounds really as they seem?
Are we walking through hell, or is something amiss?”
The raven did say, “My friend cat you’re not so versed;
neither is this a dream, nor are we cursed.
On the threshold of November, a conception is seen;
the date today is October thirty-first,
the eve of All Saints, known as Halloween.”
September 25, 2017
He was in love, deep, romantic love.
She was standoffish, aloof, above,
no need for pointless ideas thereof.
It was forbidden, like fox and dove.
His clay a gritty earthy mixture.
Hers a sweet creamy marble picture
of comfort, a permanent fixture.
His secret love a proscribed stricture.
So he sat at her feet each long day
writing the love words he could not say.
He greatly feared from her side to stray
lest someone come and take her away.
He searched for the same magic by night
that brought him to life and gave him sight.
Hoping that her stone wings would take flight
and sweep them from this piteous plight.
...She had a surprised look when he knocked on the door,
had trouble meeting his eyes, and glanced at the floor.
Jack too was nervous, had trouble speaking his minds,
stammered and said,”Hello Kay…it’s been a long time.”
She asked if he’d like to come in, and he said yes,
he walked to the living room with a pounding chest.
She made them both some coffee and he started to say,
“I know it seems kind of weird, me showing up this way,
but of late I’ve been looking at what I have got,
and I know, from the outside, it seems quite a lot,
but I don’t think I’ve been happy since I left your side,
so I guess I’m asking if you’d give us a try…”
Kat met his eyes with a sad and piteous look,
said,”Can you see the picture right there, by the nook?
I’ve already a husband, and sweet children two,
so I’m sorry, But I will have to disappoint you.”
Jack did see the small picture, and he forced a grim,
it’s not like the chance of this hadn’t occurred to him.
So he gained his feet sadly, saying that he would go,
Kay said,”Please, wait. There’ something that you should know…”
He paused for a moment, saw the pictures of the kids,
could one of those small children possibly be his?
It was then that Kay spoke, and her face looked fright,
“I thought you should know the truth, about that last night…
“You are still holding a torch, that much is clear to me,
but you should know that, even them, we never could be.
You wanted to part, to tour and win great fame,
but you never once asked if I wanted the same,
and in truth, even then, I thought of a settled life,
or children and my own home, of being a wife.
“I thought it would be easier, avoid a hard scene,
if I acted like I didn’t want to kill you dream.
Cowardly of me, but we were so young back then,
and I hadn’t yet figured what I sought in men.
But now I want to be honest, we couldn’t last lone,
and I hope all this will help you try to move on.”
Jack just stood there stunned, his whole psyche now in doubt,
he said nothing, just felt numb, as he made his way out.
Driving to the airport he felt a deep despair,
the one woman he loved…whose heart was never there!
The one thing he’d known, this ‘one truth’ that he had claimed,
had not been returned, just a mirage of his brain…
CONCLUDES IN PART IV.
ANGEL MIDWIVES - SHIPRAH AND PUAH
Two women who were fearless and bold
Saved little lives from death's threshold,
Their harmless hands were sure bloodstained,
When they brought boy babies to life's fold -
But a glimmer of hope in dismal crisis remained.
They feared God and disobeyed the king,
Helped ladies through conception painstaking,
Gave heed to the baby boys' piteous cries,
Let them live overruling orders heartbreaking -
Blessed with homes, they were two angels in disguise.
10/08/17
NOTE: This poem is inspired by EXODUS 1:15-21
15 And the king of Egypt spake to the Hebrew midwives, of which the name of the one was Shiphrah, and the name of the other Puah:
16 And he said, When ye do the office of a midwife to the Hebrew women, and see them upon the stools; if it be a son, then ye shall kill him: but if it be a daughter, then she shall live.
17 But the midwives feared God, and did not as the king of Egypt commanded them, but saved the men children alive.
18 And the king of Egypt called for the midwives, and said unto them, Why have ye done this thing, and have saved the men children alive?
19 And the midwives said unto Pharaoh, Because the Hebrew women are not as the Egyptian women; for they are lively, and are delivered ere the midwives come in unto them.
20 Therefore God dealt well with the midwives: and the people multiplied, and waxed very mighty.
21 And it came to pass, because the midwives feared God, that he made them houses.