Long Punctuations Poems
Long Punctuations Poems. Below are the most popular long Punctuations by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Punctuations poems by poem length and keyword.
Tell me, my friend, when can I send
My spirit gently into that good night?
How many times do I have to die
Before I get it right?
Every car crash, train wreck,
Overdose, misstep,
Splintered bone, rug burn,
Danger zone, poisoned cup,
Open sore, bitter root,
Slammed door, rotten fruit,
Tool shed, chicken shack,
Demon seed, heart attack,
Foul deed, flash flood,
Drowning pool, splattered mud,
Ridicule, taut noose,
Hanging tree, hot seat,
Safety latch, knotted sheet,
Lover’s leap, cruel twist,
Sudden shift, slashed wrist,
Whiskey breath, itchy wool,
Charges due, paid in full,
Circus freak, Judas kiss,
Hide and seek, losing streak,
Broken tooth, swollen lip,
Busted jaw, sinking ship,
Hard luck, hockey puck,
Sucker punch, mother f*ck,
Hot iron, nasty cold,
Phantom limb, flat spin,
Steel glove, rusty nail,
Faded love, hammer claw,
Twenty gauge, monkey paw,
Tombstone, gaping maw,
Friendly fire, lost and found,
Piano wire, last rites,
Foul deed, prairie dust,
Jimson weed, stock tip,
Bad trip, razor blade,
Muscle rip, chain saw,
Pole axe, pin prick,
Candle wax, crack pipe,
Dope ball, monster high,
Bad call, de-tox,
Padlocks, sweat box,
Ticking clocks, hair lip,
Pratfall, bull whip,
Brass balls, matching set,
Sacred cow, tangled net,
Marriage vow, and every other
Barren point of blackness
That litters the
Eternal Book of Life
Are only punctuations
In its bloody text,
While waiting,
Waiting,
Waiting
For the death
That’s written next.
Living in a realm where
the air seems to
be still as stone,
invisible, like a
ghost of a rose,
translucent and frozen in
time of ruthless seconds.
My heart still
keeps pacing to
hear the flickering
rays of your voice,
flatlined and hushed
beyond reach,
whilst I’m here
searching for
serenity through
sanguine serenades,
woven meticulously
to my soul,
in unwavering waves from
thousand seas away.
What can I do to make you
love me like I love you,
must I steal the stars
from its rightful skies,
just so that I can
please your eyes?
Or should I hide behind these
rhymeless phrases,
where veiled vowels
and nonchalant nouns
within poetic punctuations
pierce through
this bleeding quill?
Would it seem like these
tunes have been tortured
together to descend and
tangle with tainted thorns?
Tormented traps tied
from an invincible inferno.
But aren’t we breathing
within binary
codes constantly?
surfing through the
zigzags of repetitive
numbers and
acrobatic alphabets,
vaporized amongst
empty spaces where
the universe unfolds
parallel paradigms.
Losing human connection
in the deafening silence,
while channelled tunnels
carry wires through
unassigned boards,
falling on our
intellectual swords,
fingers tap against
the cold keys,
unable to feel the
warmth behind words-
misunderstood and
misinterpreted as
mountains eclipse the sun.
So let me grieve over
the unsung sonnets;
maybe one-day I’ll meet my moon
in a sphere of immutable melodies—
forever calming these chaotic calligraphies.
I was punctured by punctuations
The words you wielded with such disdain
A ravenous revolutionary
Pitilessly piercing deep into my vein
I pretended such positivity
Holding happy forward as my shield
Your attack so precise and persistent
cold and calculated you would not yield
You left little to the imagination
Expressive expletives flowed from your lips
The harmonization of my horror
I was firmly nestled within its grips
Attacked by your callous conversations
Skillfully white washing every event
They were but measly misunderstandings
Never the nouns that I thought you had meant
The truth is that I perceived your pleasure
Within that capacity of your cruel
Heading towards a cliff like a lemming
Dancing dangerously close like a fool
So I sought out new triumphant treasures
Better lines lead to a more complete me
No more would I dangle dangerously
Halting hearing you speak helped me to see!
Wonder, if God thought of Mother’s pure love
Because He can’t hope to be everywhere,
Nor be where so His children's need might move,
Alone He can no justice do, nor care.
Among things well their worth upon this Earth,
Bare if a few man ever can replace.
Mother's love stands on top, what unique grace!
Why gods and goblins vie for human birth.
If among punctuations God's period,
Mother's love sure is exclamation mark,
All else may hope to be second and third,
In luminance, she's no less than an arc.
Sole saviour, nourisher of new life,
A silver lining in dark clouds of strife.
___________________________________________
Sonnets | 22.03.2017 |
Here, within my dark abyss of stark silence,
I hear the jangling tunes of rusted chains
echo futile summer dreams
like wildflower chimes in the wind,
comforting my inner moon~
still bleeding self-inflicted sorrow,
in need of a balmy muse
as my heart painfully exhales poetry,
breathing in the peace of petrichor,
grieving through my pen on paper
amidst procrastinated punctuations,
confusing the columns of calm
between the quiet quotations of healing.
But somewhere between the
unpredictable lines of emotional storms,
you’ll find our forgotten feelings,
sedated by fireflies fluttering
through the musical mists of sleepless nights,
quenched like once upon a sacred quill,
floating amongst salt and light,
like a crescent’s rose blooming into the blues,
learning to erase the unspoken shadows
lining the boulevard of my weathered soul,
for this is the song of the pearl
resting in a sand-soaked bed
of broken shells,
turning oceanic pages
with metaphors that ebb and flow,
like a collage of dancing diamonds,
cleansed with colors of sunsets
softer than the chorus of h o p e
wrapped like souvenirs
laced in saffron and sage.
There’s a rooster and a chicken both well fed
Ode poem to them for they created an egg
I love the egg well before it becomes a new life
I use it to make an omelette with poetry spice
Verbs splashes of red onion taste so good
Peppered prepositions used as one should
Buttery nouns sautéed until brown in the pan
Milky splashes of adjectives because we can
Cheesy punctuations used for emphasis
Plus some bacon not forsaken adding bliss
It can be turkey or from pork in limerick
And to finish add in spinach sonnet’s kiss
Ode to the chicken and rooster parents love
They created an egg
with which I’m fed
Can’t get enough I’m stuffed
I’m an educated idiot,
Who’s learned to hold a pen.
I find a bit of paper,
And I write things now and then.
My punctuations lacking,
And my spellin is absurd.
My handwriting, so dreadful,
I can hardly read a word.
But I’ve found a way to hide this,
And don’t have to bear the shame.
I just type it on my keyboard,
The computer gets the blame.
Now I write lots of poetry,
I do this everyday.
And when people say, “how awful”,
I claim typo’s, right away.
So if you try to read my ramblings,
And it’s ‘doing in your head’.
If you don’t know what your reading,
Have no clue what I said.
Then be thankful that, I typed it,
Or I’m sure that you would find,
You could not even read a word,
Now that would blow your mind!
Ivor G Davies
I want to know;
For you came beautiful and pleasant
Charmed me with your charming ‘words’
You said you’d be kind-
Why have I felt your wrath so many times?
That you’re not the green-eyed type-
Why am I a prisoner of your jealousy?
Said you don’t get easily provoked-
Why have I suffered physical and psychological blows?
That you won’t take into account the wrongs -
Why the judgments for my petty imperfections?
You said you’d be patient-
Only it isn’t one of your attributes
Said you’d always stick to the truth-
Why do I hear your punctuations read with lies
That you’d fill my heart with joy-
Why is my joy fear?
Said you’d always be faithful-
Did you mean faithful at straying?
That trust would abound-
And tear won’t descend;
Is trust and tears this tear and teary?
That forgiveness we would practice-
Guess actions speak louder than words
You said amid the tides, through the calm;
We’d bear
We’d believe
We’d hope
We’d endure
For all times, we would be
But is forever this short?
And I’ve tried
To bear, believe, hope and endure
Because triumphing against all odds we built towards
And I’d want to go back to square one
When your ‘words’ reflected a beauty to behold
Not this character in front of me
I want to know; is this you love?
pre-shakespeare there were no: sentences, paragraphs, punctuations, or spacing, etc etc; first and last letters of words were usually shared
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intent thinkers seek key yule expressions (how to hint)
signifying gifts sought (for desired presents)
this santas salivary yearnings space (this christmas)
expressing greed dreams singing good days songs (for greedy good times)
stan sand
...intenthinkerseekeyule...
...xpressionsignifyingifts...
...oughthisantasalivaryearn...
...ingspacexpressingreed...
...reamsingingoodaysongs...
Are we but dancers on an unlit stage
Disclosing secrets hidden in the angst of now
Revealing the ups and downs of then.
Singing in the choir of the off key
Whistling past punctuations grave yard.
Our words a chant to taunt the demons
Remind them that we are still here
That we have words and are not afraid to use them.
Do we not hide behind, and within
Each metaphoric medley of madness
Bare the essence of an eager soul
In the nakedness of our ramblings?
Children clamoring for attention
Making mud pies, walking through puddles,
Bravely turning off the night light
Yet still afraid of the dark.
But for myself, I warn you, I am here
Within the words I blend together
A guileless garment maker
Obsessed by the texture of the threads
Stitching errant words together
Into this patchwork that is me.
For I am here, peeking from within the fabric,
Modeling each moment on an unlit stage.