Long Premonition Poems
Long Premonition Poems. Below are the most popular long Premonition by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Premonition poems by poem length and keyword.
Quick don't make a sound step up to the table
Take these drugs and feel alive again
Everything you've ever wished for is just a pill away
Just don't let your feelings sway
The premonition is lost behind his eyes
Lay closer and let things come to life
The thrill has left a sliver of hope
And these livid dreams are helping you cope
Your bedside manner is lacking in a wasted time once lost
The profane and profound impersonate the rich and the loud
In a time where we all resist the hand that feeds
The breath of life blows out the candle of death
So take heed and don't make a sound
Creep through the darkness to search for the light all around
A ragged whisper sends a chill down your spine
Struggle to keep your balance she says you're all mine
Touch the water and let it cleanse your drunken soul
Let's make believe we're all something more
You'll be dead by morning's end
You'll be dead by tomorrow morn
Sing to the dead for us and grant them peace
Let them know that heavens been released
I tumbled beautifully through the air
Pirouetting in this downward spiral
Knowing I had a target to land on
Instinct and premonition were my guides
The warm embrace of my perfect memories weren't there to catch me as I'd hoped
Instead, I plunged headfirst into a warm pool
Simultaneously, I felt happy and scared
So warm, yet shivering
I twisted around to take it in
And there you were
You belonged to someone else
The person I called my closest friend
But you weren't satisfied
And all three of us knew it
Smiling underwater, you reached your hand out
Whirlpools opened around us as I took your hand
It was odd, but I knew it was right
After all, I'd done something like this before
His chains were cut and I carried them instead
My instinct was to cut them again and run
Yet every chance I had, I avoided
The chains vanished, yet I remained
The trials and troubles never mattered
Somehow, it always worked
The ocean we traversed turned ever warmer
As we grew ever closer
When I was a broken man
You were there for me
And you put my heart
Right where it belongs.
Simplicity in a solution,
the answer to everyones prayers.
Mind clouded noise pollution,
our garbage dump of human despair.
Difficulty with all of lifes indifference,
an emergency broadcasted test.
Visualizing pathological belligerence,
intoxicated on this sober quest.
Degree of difficulty a premonition,
80 grit sandpaper likes it rough.
The ignorance in all the indecision,
the Idiot says enough is enough!!!
bmdavey@
02/11/16
17 is the Lucky Number, I believe so.
Odd 17 shrugs at me, saying, “Please make me do."
The Holy Book, there as I found before.
17 times, He mentioned love, quite a metaphor!
Weeping Willow missed empath in reason
"Mercy, no Weakness!", warns blooming season!
Voices echoed in a Friday sermon
"Mercy!" They advised 17, " No, premonition."
17! Two times a high-five! And I got a Ten!
An incidental talk, an aura , then!
17 is a Lucky Number. Fact. Idyllic.
Not insane and neither alcoholic.
Mislead or Dead ones, 17 times in Holy Book
And know this! Playing wildest guess it took!
17th president! While lamenting for Lincoln!
Lincoln, never dead! So strong a vision!
I was supine, Lord! In veneration!
7-24-2019
17 is the Lucky Number - Rhyme Poetry Contest
Theme: Faithful Fear
Sponsored by: Lu Loo
I’d planned the vacation of my life to see the world rolling on ice, but the summer heat was so extreme that it almost sinks my summer dream. The path was clear but I could not find a suitable place to stay over there.
There were too many places with too many happy faces, and Vladimir and estrogen were sitting on the throne smiling. Godot was not there but they had so much to share. With decoration on their cheeks and courage beneath their feet they got the audience to rise to their feet. They brought the house down when Vladimir roll the ball on his nose and estrogen catapult it to the back of the net with a head roll; that’s the way of clowns when no other strategy is found.
The temperature suddenly rises and we had to cool down our bodies with a block of ice, and moments before the summer begins, I could hear the bells ring. It reminded that summer is here and there is nothing to fear.
We have waited for this as if it was a promise or a premonition from the deity that everything will turn out right and we will end the bull fight, and send the bulls back unto the pen and keep the surface wet, they will never get out to chase the people about for the next fight will be in four years’ time when the temperature is right.
Summer is slipping through my finger, and I have so much to deliver; I have a meeting to attend, a court order to upend and a vacation to spend. When all of this is over, and we have crossed over, we will rise to the occasion once more and spread everything out on the floor. Summer is slipping through my finger, and I have a meeting with my employee and a dinner with them and a message to send. The table is already sent but the company is struggling with enormous debt.
When everyone bonds together and sign the document, miracles will fall from heaven. You don't have to scramble for food anymore and you don’t have to wipe people’s floor; you will have all the finance you need to keep the doors open and to satisfy your greed.
Come with me to the shores we will take the ferry next door; it’s about time we get on the ship and crosses over to begin the trip. Summer almost slipped through my finger, and I am glad that you are here to help me cross over.
Where a rustic bridge once crossed from my hometown in Iowa
over to Illinois,
I used to go and play at a spot
where children’s feet ran helter skelter through sand.
It was long, so long ago.
In summer’s dusk, I held on to one of the park’s swings.
With feet pumping, I lifted into the air;
it was as if I almost flew above the water.
The Mississippi River had become a long grey ribbon
beneath the darkening sky.
What strange gloom flowed over me
while all of those around me were so happy?
I sit here in this park fifty-some years later,
and it dawns on me -
My childhood foreboding was a premonition
of the very way I’m feeling
right here and now.
for Mark Toney's
2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 27 Poetry Contest
One wish is all that
is required to be simply commiting oneself
to that dream so unreachable by hands,
that leave streaks of hope
on someone's face
so improvised by time;
we can make our fates and wait,
but others are followed
by impredictable luck...
that they conjure a oath,
so obdurate, to obliterate crime!
Unlike the changeable seasons,
the human heart turns its attention
to easy and obtainable things:
being so unremorseful and oblivious...
lurking where dangers lie;
knowledge seems
a primitive belief,
unhesitantly swallowed by
an unperspicacious pessimism...
to justify their criticism,
enough to throw foolisness into action...
when their pique should die!
They should see generosity
as an act of kindness and dignity,
not a demonstration of weakness;
martyrs, saints and ordinary people
felt love and openly showed it...
can they follow in their holy footsteps?
Unlike the changeable seasons,
every intricate landscape
takes on its own diverse shape,
obeying a law so orderly;
we human beings
premidate a future without a plan,
and vainly glorifying ourselves...
ingnoring any premonition!
We turn ourselves into a deity,
thinking to be so invincible...
defying,crushing everyone
and everything...to reach,
without sweat or obstacles,
an unearned reward which
can be so horribly futile!
Because She Craved the Very Best
by Michael R. Burch
Because she craved the very best,
he took her East, he took her West;
he took her where there were no wars
and brought her bright bouquets of stars,
the blush and fragrances of roses,
the hush an evening sky imposes,
moonbeams pale and garlands rare,
and golden combs to match her hair,
a nightingale to sing all night,
white wings, to let her soul take flight ...
She stabbed him with a poisoned sting
and as he lay there dying,
she screamed, "I wanted everything!"
and started crying.
Keywords/Tags: Rose, Roses, Flowers, Materialism, Possessions, Shallow, Shallowness, Greedy, Greediness, Desire, Lust, Craving, Cravings, Gift, Gifts, Gift-Giving, Ingratitude, Ungrateful, Ungratefulness, Pomp, Circumstance
What The Roses Don’t Say
by Michael R. Burch
Oblivious to love, the roses bloom
and never touch . . . They gather calm and still
to watch the busy insects swarm their leaves . . .
They sway, bemused . . . till rain falls with a chill
stark premonition: ice! . . . and then they twitch
in shock at every outrage . . . Soon they’ll blush
a paler scarlet, humbled in their beds,
for they’ll be naked; worse, their leaves will droop,
their petals quickly wither . . . Spindly thorns
are poor defense against the winter’s onslaught . . .
No, they are roses. Men should be afraid.
The Monarch’s Rose or The Hedgerow Rose
by Michael R. Burch
I lead you here to pluck this florid rose
still tethered to its post, a dreary mass
propped up to stiff attention, winsome-thorned
(what hand was ever daunted less to touch
such flame, in blatant disregard of all
but atavistic beauty)? Does this rose
not symbolize our love? But as I place
its emblem to your breast, how can this poem,
long centuries deflowered, not debase
all art, if merely genuine, but not
“original”? Love, how can reused words
though frailer than all petals, bent by air
to lovelier contortions, still persist,
defying even gravity? For here
beat Monarch’s wings: they rise on emptiness!
raven of the marsh sounded the alarm
mystic named Marilee listened carefully
first the bull frogs, then the spiders, now this
three signs in three days; mischief was afoot
spirit was in the air, Marilee strived to identify it
A chill pierced her soul; she felt threatened
this was not a spirit guide she knew or a loving ancestor
Clairsentient, she sensed lilac and an ironed linen
an old-fashioned entity, possibly female, but maybe not
you do not know me, the spirit told her
this message entered Marilee’s mind
her neck hairs stood up on edge
the air was heavy; she took a step
the entity followed her
what do you want? She asked
not with words, but in her mind
the lack of answer shook her a bit
the sky was filled with grayscale fuzziness
the woods felt ominous tonight
Marilee walked toward her garden
she had a strong feeling turkey buzzards would be here by morning
an unsettling premonition
Did you notice the first fall breeze?
Cool and crisp it feathers your face
A premonition of winter’s freeze
But gentle like a silken lace
The leaves dropping as the colors change
And earth begins it’s dormant nap
The autumn breeze so lovely and strange
Points out the path on winter’s map
The first fall breeze gently reminds me
Of the long gone days of my youth
Refreshing as I searched for the key
I hoped would bring wisdom and truth
Refreshing as it was but knowing
The first fall breeze had made it clear
Mother Earth with splendor showing
The pure white winter drawing near