Long Purge Poems
Long Purge Poems. Below are the most popular long Purge by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Purge poems by poem length and keyword.
What on earth is going on over there, do you have something to share, what on earth is going on over there, you are acting as if you don’t care. Is there any good news for us? Is there any recipe in the cook book? She always has something new to cook.
There is food in the pantry but the drain is clogged up, you have to get the technician to remove the plug before the day is done so that you can get the food from the pantry.
The wine is fine but there are few berries on the vine. You have got to put in a new crop before the autumn ushers in. They have the grain, the water and the drain; they just need a helping hand to clear the land.
The drums are leaving the town and the villains are homeward bound, the oligarchs are surveying the place and the customers are running all over the place. Everyone is looking for the best price before they roll the production dice. The season for the “bleeding” can be so demanding when you have twenty meetings in one day and nothing positive is coming your way. Negative energy will make you sick, and kinetic energy will throw you off the cliff.
Oh, I almost forget the shares; India has rice and beans to spare some people dislike the frosting on the cake because some flavors are out of date.
The Indian rice is white and it is piling up to the sky, the people will starve to death if you don’t act before the break of Dawn.
Narendra Modi, the King of the East must gather his administration in front of the beast, to discuss the rice ban before starvation devastates the land.
We don’t understand the reason for the ban, is it to purge the bad people from the land? You cannot allow the good to suffer for the bad or you will leave the entire world sad.
Prime Minister Modi is a good man and he need all the rice to feed the 1.4 billion people on his land .
This has caused some disruption in the global supply market. This is what you should do to protect the horse and the shoe. Export half of your rice to the globe and keep the other half to nourish your people’s soul.
You can add an extra dollar to the price to compensate for the ruthless sacrifice, consult your loyal customers and apologize for the rice ban.
You must put the politics aside and serve the people with much delight. Send the people to plant more rice and rescind the global rice ban, Prime Minister Modi…lift the rice ban.
Of first embrace and broken glass
I cherish that first spark
New light upon our forest' dark.
Do you recall that northern wind?
It came at first so swift
Perhaps our growing light enraged
Poor Hopelessness', her whims denied
Inspired shadows from retreat
Those having once left us in our light.
"There's hope for you!” her battle cries
“Forwards; towards the glowing night
Attack! The lion will not bite
I promise he will turn blind eyes
Go back! I will cover your eyes!”
“Follow storms winds descent
True path through forests dense
Enter hence.
Rip, tear, rent!
From low to high
Head to toes
Even to above
Where dark forest glows
Churn even these shades
Whites and grays
Yellows arrayed,
Where once were dulled
"My children do not stop there!"
She would say,
"You must inscribe them full
Lest unseen hopes, occupy as slivers
As pretending tones, they have been known to hide
Shimmers upon the edge of shades
We must leave them emptied, lost whims, denied
Their ways left as waste to ruins
Despairs do not relent with dooms
Leaving chance to sparks in time
Per chancing kindles from hearts that loom.”
“Descend, my raging opaque!
The dense itself engrave
Teach young love old lessons
That she may now know at such young age
The heart of this forest lessened.”
“Now go' my shadowed tails delight
Slice sharp paths without care
Cause those within their ears too bear
The roaring of fresh leaves…
Torn from their rightful place
Before the given time”
“Dying screams let them endure
Let them feel your shadows
….Purge!”
The cold so swift
We were so sure This was spring
........residues
Your body’s naked form, lovely
Dropping, encircling our flame
Dying breath
Woman’s instinct
Nurturing
Disregarding winds intent
Then came the rains' extinguishing
Saving coals
Your hands were warm
My feet were cold
I shiver at this memory.
…Rains cold intensity
The downpour overcoming
Me
I'm sorry I could not see
My circle enclosed circles now
Circling
I knew the dark complete
As our smoke heavenward arose
To late this pittance; ash offerings
Ashes on the ground
Then came the rivers rage
Cutting its path through the heart
Forever too leave
Forever leaving its mark
Upon our forest dark
Meandering on; its choosing path
And I with it beside; belonged
For a chosen time
My love again I say
For a chosen time
Do you understand?
I chose the time of days
My shame
The klaxon sounds and off we do scurry
Up to the gun house we head in a hurry
Through narrow p-ways and up noisy stairs
We pass each other with far away glares
What threat to meet, all do wonder
We’re well trained and there’ll be no blunder
Hatches closed and scuttles secured
Drive motors humming, we speak not a word
Ammo to the hoist, battle dress in place
Flash hoods cover all but our face
“Mt 51 manned and ready!”
Gas eject air pressure is holding steady
“Air action port!” our circuits align
Gun slews, the target to find
“On target aircraft!” the checksight declares
Our peril confirmed, no drill, all just a deep inhale
“Right and left guns load!” first powder then shot
To the mad dance, cast we all our lot
Guns loaded, we track knowing not when
Waiting the salvo alarm, the dance soon to begin
Fourteen men poised, ready for the show
Bound to each other, not for their own glory they do go
Gong! Gong! Fire! The first stanza a roar
Then rapid and continuous we feed each bore
“Bore clear!” signals to load the next round
As hot-case men pitch spent brass to the ground
Practiced harmony, each motion robotic
Load!, Ram!, Fire!, Eject! the cadence hypnotic
Smoke and flareback, gases choking
Onward we whirl, and curse the foe attacking
“Foul bore left gun!”
A stuck case has us undone
Pry bar in hand, the Gunner appears
The extractors are broken, confirming worst fears
Casing removed and the gun finally clear
Up all night we’ll be, fixing this gear
“Cease fire!” all safely emerge
Realize we now, our fears to purge
Destruction averted, another hour to draw breath
Till the enemy returns, seeking our death
“Police up that brass and swab out those barrels!”
The chief keeps us all intent on the peril
They will come again, or we will seek them out
So little rest we take, while the issue is in doubt
***************************************
This describes a live shoot from the prospective of
the men manning a twin 5 inch gun aboard a destroyer.
These ships were common in our Navy from 1944 through
about 1980. The "old salts" out there will find this very familiar.
This is a spinoff from my "Tin Can Sailors" write even though
the ships in that story were single mounts. Same gun, but
with just one barrel. Those were before my time.
Part Two
Do you remember your run-up to the crease
your Lindwall-delivery dragging the clasping flannel round hobbled boots
your anger
at the wicket that went on a no-ball
Do you remember your opening bat
that snicked the runs to leg and off
which dozing umpires signalled as byes from pads
Do you remember Brigitte
her perky bobtail
her boucles of prancing hair
lances on her forehead
sickles on her verti-vir-ginous temples
Where are the bridges you have crossed
and those you had planned
and those you saw grow pebble by pylon and cementing stone
where the roads you laid
up virgin forest and limestone
Where indeed the buildings you repaired
erected
re-erected and razed
and the thousands and thousands of miles
you rode the wild seladang of the primeval jungle
hand on hump
with no stars in the paly night to guide you
through venomous blukar
and the boiling green torture
seared deep into your burning entrails
these that now have run out on you
Watch now how the river glues under your fuming stare
when the monsoon torrents sweep the knock-knee-ed pylons to a side
those dry as split-bark legs of yours
itching once too often in comforting company
though a little spindly for a Pied Piper
Yet you made the puppety Peninsula run
down drains and monsoon pipes
to a purge-full sea
Who is there now who wouldn't wake to your fits of irrupting gurgly merriment
to ease the tension
amongst unlikely fellows
Who who wouldn't miss your seething whiteheat glee
at his side
You who knew how to accompany Kay and Richard
up to the closed door of your last night
a very good night on your lips
Your opening bat's duty done
the side shored-up in safekeeping
the last fast breathless ball you faced
nicking the bails off
You needn't return to the pavilion
for the standing ovation goes on
for you Bala
long after the cloddy-stumps lie slain on the tiled floor
© T.Wignesan 1993 August 8, 1993 - Paris [from the collection: back to background material, 1993]
Do you hear the chimes,
Of the poem’s rhymes,
Also those without rhymes,
How they reflect the times,
The elements of truth within eachofus,
Inspiteofus, trying to getoutofus!!
So that all may see,
Twiddle Dee,
Of the mind, you see!
So poets hold your position,
It is your only opposition,
To a world, in peril,
Love’s knowledge will make it’s stand,
As only love can!
A true poem is truth,
No matter how loose,
Is from truth’s booth,
Don’t try to, up it spruce,
For it is cutting your true potential loose,
From mind control, golden goose!
The spirit of heart,
Will always set the mind apart,
If the mind doesn’t start,
To be a part,
Of love, the heart’s start!
We are in the world,
But not of it’s peril!
The world grossly complex,
They say, too large to fail,
But it’s you and me they quell!
While the economy is sagging,
Many jump on their band wagon!
More tax, is faxed,
To the very max!
But the flop, is throwing money at the top,
Of the tree,
Of the economy,
As they say oh gee,
Taxes are free,
Are you kidding me!
By common nature you see,
To fertilize a tree,
And it is, love’s principle, you see,
A simplicity,
Which is the basis of all, reality,
As in agriculture, they taught me,
You fertilize the bottom of a tree!
But our leaders, you see,
Fertilize the top,
Cause that’s all they got,
Just the mind’s flop,
All this must stop!
They don’t give a flute’s toot,
About the root,
Of the tree,
For that’s you and me!
But the power of the bloom,
Will very soon,
Let the wild branches swoon!
Love is, our intelligent prune,
Let’s don’t be goons!
More taxes, more stress on the root,
That’s such a flute!
If we the people will take it,
Then by more law they will make it!
Meanwhile mind’s theology,
Is running down the leg of we,
The twiddle dee,
Of you and me!
Now we must prune,
Very soon,
Before we bloom!
For the bloom of unrighteous mammon,
Will cause the world great famine!
Like an unrighteous salmon,
Going down the stream man,
Which will spoil the root plan,
Which will not stand,
Being it’s built on the sand!
It’s the top that’s too large,
We must purge!
The wind,
Will begin,
That will topple this tree,
The economy!
Sooner is a bitter, better,
For later is the hater,
Not the lover!
johnmosesfreeman@yahoo.com
About 9 years old was the child
when nightmare first they dreamed.
For many years this nightmare
would often try
her courage to subdue,
but now her sleep is silent.
During the day she'd often play
with her dog, Whiskers.
Now this dog once bit her dad
to protect her when
she screamed,
but that's another story.
The dog had proved
to her ever loyal.
Her dream that night began
just like every other.
She was in the yard skipping rope,
Whiskers right beside her.
Suddenly the urge was great
to climb the tallest tree,
something she had never before
even dreamed of doing.
She must have sensed
her dog grow tense
alerting her to danger.
She scurried to the top
and when she sat she saw
the reason for the fright.
From this tree she could see
house and barn and yard.
And a man she'd never met before,
tall and strong in stature.
His boot and step
testified to his authority.
But the look on his face
spoke volumes more;
it displayed a
sickening thing,
Doing harm
brought him
intense pleasure.
He searched her home,
and inside each farm building.
She knew that she
would soon be found
when she learned all his tactics.
Every blade of grass he turned
and every bush he circled.
When this man approached her tree,
her dog went on defensive.
Whiskers' voice rang out a snarling growl,
his teeth were clearly seen.
His task was to protect this child,
otherwise he was NEVER mean.
The man then stood beneath her tree,
her loyal friend neutralized.
Immediately
she saw his chin turn upward,
and
SNAP
she opened up her eyes.
This nightmare flashed through her mind
gave rise to restless sleep
until age twenty-seven.
As she moved geographically,
her dream would change to match.
But some elements were ever constant:
hiding from the man of authority,
the EXTREMELY methodical search,
waking up when...
discovery is inevitable.
Now there's many nights
when she sleeps very little,
or not at all.
But when she does,
she finds her slumber silent.
She'll be forty next month,
something that brings on deep reflection.
The nightmare has come to mind
from time to time during
daylight hours of silent nights.
Now she'll purge it from her system.
She just wishes one answer could be had,
a loud, resounding WHY.
I sauntered in an evening mist
A midnight's heaven, magic-kissed
Lamp-lit raindrops pattered, awesome
Shining city turned violet blossom
Enchantments I could ne'er resist.
Adrift upon the Paris, proper
Wandered I, a Yankee pauper
Until a Latin damsel's ride
Paused, as she pulled me inside
(Not that I had mind to stop her).
Away, into another world
She and I were thusly hurled
A night of excess, spinning fast
Absinthe sweetened our repast
As did lips, and tresses, curled.
Club-to-club we smartly hopped
More green nectar if we flopped
Pushing tenders to their rations
Just to fuel our backseat passions
On-and-onward, 'til we dropped.
All seems dream now, in my mind
Still, I'd swear that when we dined
Famous folks from ages hence
Were with us for our merriments
And all the mischief we could find.
The best of writers in their day
Zelda, F. Scott and Hemingway
Gertrude Stein and Porter, Cole
Pined, polemic, from their soul
Life and love, the friendly fray.
No discourse was too far-fetched
Others, too, who talked and sketched
Pablo Picasso and Gauguin, Paul
Dali and Man Ray, surrealists all
On, the wilding hours stretched.
Ever poured the emerald potion
Crazy cogs in constant motion
Clouding, thick, the mental fog
Far beyond the hair-of-dog
Glasses raised for every notion.
Thus it passed 'til all went black
Awaking days hence in my sack
Believing now that all these things
Were just a night's meanderings
Or the ramblings of a maniac.
I set my mind to purge it all
Grabbed my phone to make a call
Then spotted on my bed, a note
Within the pocket of my coat
So I crumpled it into a ball.
You see, I recognized the write
I'd seen it on that misty night
When, with absinthe, we'd our fill
And Hemingway had signed the bill.
So I sauntered off into the night ...
Too scared to find out ... if I was right.
* FOURTH PLACE in the "Dreams" Poetry Contest, Nayda Ivette Negron, Sponsor. *
I close my eyes and I hear a sound,
Running water, joyful and unbound.
Leaping and roaring, swirling and swishing,
Loud slaps of waves crashing.
But the chaos yet fuels peace within me,
As I close my eyes and let my mind see.
Past the horizon, beyond the mundane,
My mind wanders off as I hear the sound of the rain.
Pitter patter of raindrops on the window sill,
Exuding calm as I stand still.
The raindrops purge the earth and all within,
Washing away my wrongs and my sins.
And I envision dew drops, sparkling and profound,
As they fall from blades of grass, purifying the ground.
And I find that sheer joy I can’t deny
Myself to feel through my mind’s eye.
And I can hear the wind howling through the trees,
Taking with it the seeds and the leaves,
It ruffles the feathers of the birds flying high,
The feel of freedom none other can satisfy.
A dazzle of colour, gray, green and blue,
Circling and singing a melodious hue.
And such are the birds that sail the air free,
That in my mind’s eye I vividly see…
And far off, I hear the fain song of a bird,
Ecstatic that the sun is now peeping at the world.
The first rays pierce through the darkness to reach the earth,
Lighting up a vibrant world, increasing its worth.
I can hear the pigeons cooing and the monkeys chattering,
Each one expectant and eager for a new beginning.
And a benevolent sun does smile down upon us,
Through my mind’s eye I can see him relish the early morning rush.
And through my mind’s eye, I witness time pass by,
As the sun hides his head under the blanket of his great bed.
And like the mice who play while the cat is away,
The moon peeps over the dark forlorn cloud
And invites a din magnificent and loud,
Of hidden creatures, loyal to the dark,
But beautiful and graceful like the singing lark.
With their voice like melody, they dance and fly,
This is what I see through my mind’s eye.
Animals of prey gear up for the hunt,
They move about stealthily, nighttime has begun.
An eerie silence reigns all around,
Such peace is very difficult to be found.
And again time flies as if on wings,
And the sun rises once more to brighten up things.
It seta again making way for the night,
My mind’s eye has shown me the most wonderful sight.
Time To Shower...When Pervasive Odor Of Ureic Acid
Doth strongly waft, sting,
and nauseate about me
olfactory nose flying zone
bombarding cilia of
nasal passageway analogous
to displeasure wrought by
crashing, deafening, exploding,
ear splitting xylophone,
also synonymous isolated like
barenaked lady within
remote location of Lake Woebegone,
voluntarily forced to bathe
in brutally cold
mountain waters oxbow lake
vaguely resembling out
size topographical wishbone
rescue unlikely since
bajillion miles from radio tower,
thus state of the art
electronically sophisticated videophone
good as worthless resignation,
sans fate linkedin tubby
mother nature's cryogenic specimen
more'n murmuring undertone,
where huge Arctic glacier overshadows
infinitesimally microscopic human,
one speck kin zee ditched
*****sapien subsumed
under superfluous tombstone
as frozen fountain head,
where Atlas shrugged,
nonetheless incongruous yen
to purge mine offensive odor,
where civilization footprint
sole lee mine alone in wilderness
thus farcical reason (without rhyme),
atypical, farcical, and poetical title,
yours truly didst stirrup and spur
inexplicable search for soapstone,
yet prospect to don measly frame
without gay apparel
(beastie boy bit figurative bullet,
and buttressed body in buff)
immediately augmented primal scream
to trumpet heebeegeebees
(teeth chattering yodeling
rendition re: stayin alive)
from this Rhinestone
survivalist cowboy wannabe,
began feeling comfortably numb,
and immediately prone
to become human popsicle,
especially when sub zero temperature
immediately froze water splashed skin
(like glassy sheet of ice)
glancing viz albedo effect
as blindingly white
snow capped mountains outshone
albino crags, offering
absolute zero, yes none
reassurance with insulated moonstone
sleeping bag useful
as yolked with lodestone
around neck - slow death by
freezing this knucklebone,
who sought cleanliness,
(and panacea to immortality)
joining exclusive polar bear club
(Ursus Maritimus very selective,
and only chose me) even
at expense of more'n
just frozen jawbone
plus Jack frost bitten cockles turned
deep purple as inkstone
used to write re: scrawl epitaph
on icicle glommed headstone.
Soul stripped.
Flesh ripped.
Hope lost.
Time moves on not heeding the cost.
Hurt buried aside in the ditch.
Anger flares like a flip of the switch.
Fist tenses,
Wrenching blood from within.
Fingers pawing at the line of life,
White with streaks of red pressed flesh.
Ghost pepper strongly inhaled,
Nose like a waterfall over the lips.
Eyes clenched as tears meet sweat of the brow.
Foot tapping unceasingly faster,
Knee and leg exaggerating the attack.
Yoke across shoulders crunching bones.
Arms crossed, torso giving to gravity.
Pores gushing both hot and cold.
Mind races with head pivoting,
Circular on it's axle.
Soul? The soul dancing??? How cruel...
Mouth ajar in disbelief.
Tongue scratching to arise from it's lair.
Cheeks numbing,
Throat choked.
The beat of the soul continues...
Mind dampens.
Heart weakens.
Gut set to purge.
Soul keeps dancing...
Heart, mind and gut can't hear the rhythm.
Body jolts in knee-jerk spasms.
Face curls in anger,
Nose crunches cheeks,
Upper lip cliffs out over teeth,
Brow furrows, slanted cynically.
Mind perks up seeking to undermine...
Logic with misdirection lined.
All except the soul act as one.
The body relaxes, the masquerade begun.
"Nothing ever did transpire,
There is no real reason for this angst and mire."
Lungs breath a sigh of relief,
Heart makes off in the night like a thief.
Outward appearance turns abruptly calm.
The soul leaps up, raising an outward palm...
"Stop this at once! We've done this before!
Leading only to hunger, depression, and gore."
Soul connected to the source of life,
Reaches through the smoke of daunting strife.
Louder and louder the truth is yelled,
Mind, gut, heart and body remain uncompelled.
Suddenly, a piercing touch from without,
Skewers the essence of each with doubt...
The soul is a right a truth must break,
A two way mirror reflecting a fake.
The mind is steadfast not willing to commit.
The heart is frozen as opposed to lit.
The gut uneasy in volcanic burn.
Body's composure lost in a violent turn.
The soul is heard, the unforgiven must cave,
History includes a pain never forgave.
Voice it aloud all five parts of being proclaim...
"Release, us at once, from this torture and maim!"