Long Quenched Poems
Long Quenched Poems. Below are the most popular long Quenched by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Quenched poems by poem length and keyword.
Empty walls become the
out-of-focus billboards of thought.
Simple, seemingly insignificant things
become springboards of
flushing emotions
that cannot be quenched nor withheld -
impossible to ignore their swells
while headaches grow from trying.
Must I let it go where grief can sleep
with me in our own quiet place?
No ... these intense exaggerations of emotion
are not born from loss or death but
from love and life!
Look around and know
they will grow once more.
Our journey is here for now;
we will join our lost loves in good time,
but
we have more yet to love and lose ...
Harvest Bounty
Season of harvest, horn of plenty;
Tiller of soil reaping the fields:
Grains and legumes, hay and vegetables,
Fruits and plants, and gourd family genuses;
Filling silos, barns, pantries, and cellars.
Grapes abound, on vines climbing trellises,
And plump, red tomatoes dangle from stakes,
While apples grapple to keep from falling,
And livestock fatten on pastoral grasses.
Reaper of fields to feed the many.
Crops quenched by rains and meandering streams
Are ripened under the inexhaustible sun
And spring forth produce abundance in season.
Cornucopia spilling over with autumn goodness.
All eye admiration flood upon your presence
Beyond words, this mind bleeds,
Crushed by your metaphysical yet practical brilliance
Deafened by the hilarity of your quirks
Envying those that may embellish in your jests
Frozen in tears where the past brings smiles
Groveling beside the untouched potential
How is it you excel among such fetid company?
Initiating your moon-shines like the sun is your god
Jumping jacks pounding these ever depressing soles
Kittling the fingertips mindfully so
Lackadaisically glancing upon our stranger-friend relationship
Mustering the audacity to surmount your eccentricities
No one could ever quite notice before
Opulent in knowing you have captured so many
Pained inside to the very last penny
Quenched from courage, I remain caged in your glory
Rabid to agitate your unacquainted waters
Suckling upon the overflow—
The leftovers that offer richness I will never know
Understanding you wholeheartedly—I quiver
Violated by the comfort tease of your words
Wondering how love can surface upon unsteady oceans
X chromosome searching for a sharp fool within a current of chaos
Y chromosome spinning, slightly hidden with a small, sparkly smile
Zealous in the frivolous chase—I was latched from the start
NOW YOU’RE HERE BY MY SIDE
When I think back, on hollow days,
and all those gloomy nights-
In the darkness- searching for the light
Empty faces,
were all I beheld with these hungry eyes
love has been kind-now you’re here by my side
In a desert,
of people so thirsty and unsatisfied
you have quenched me- now you’re here by my side
Now you’re with me,
My solitude is over- no more silent nights
Love has been kind-now you’re here by my side
Chorus
Now, the time stands still…
The sun burns hot- on the horizon…
You have been-the answer to all my prayers
When I think back,
on hollow days, and all those gloomy nights-
In the darkness- searching for the light
Now you’re with me,
My solitude is over- no more silent nights
Love has been kind-now you’re here by my side
Chorus
Now, the time stands still…
The sun burns hot- on the horizon…
You have been-the answer to all my prayers
Repeat chorus
Finale
Love has been kind-now you’re here by my side
Love has been kind-now you’re here by my side
John Derek Hamilton
June 25,2018
The rains came and quenched the thirsty lands.
I looked to the Lord, but raised empty hands.
I fell to my knees, weighed down by the burdens of the earth…
My heart and soul are full of faith, hoping for a new birth…
What are you doing Lord?
The time is coming quickly to see the move of God’s hand…
Hours seem fast then slow, anticipation moves as Time's sand…
No longer burdened am I by what wishes hope forever to bring…
Though weighed down in soul and burdened by sorrow, with tear filled eyes I sing…
I sing of His love, I sing of His wisdom and I wait for His water…
I sing of the clay, I sing of Him molding, and the hands of the potter…
What are you doing Lord?
If any man lacks wisdom, my Lord, what would that be?
Not wisdom of words but of you, please help me to see…
To see where you are taking me from here at this time and place.
Afford unto me just this once, a little more touch of grace.
Lord, tell me please, oh please! What are you doing Lord?
Then the lord said, “All you need to know, is to seek my face”.
Copious tears flowed gently in the dire disaster
but we're not in brutal excess.
Doom occurs precisely in a proper time
when subtlety is humorless.
Fierce passion, o heart, gaily
decorates your soul brightness.
And we are inseparably united
in our wistful sadness.
However, my conscious mind is
precisely a vacuum-sealed recess.
Who merely performs reliably
exquisite poetry for the curiousness.
Querying anxiously, he has enflamed
the dear heart of eternal nothingness.
Feasibly my vital burning has been
quenched for untold sadness.
Written: October 14, 2021
To this Mourning idle day,
To the silence of this uncertain night;
I offer the quenched melody
shrieking boastful, in silence of gloom.
In the sombre piano, Chopin
upheaves restlessness crying in fright.
This worklessness pinches deep
the needles, of loneliness wringing again.
An upbeat mourn yearn shows
to reach the absent overwhelmed be.
Here reaches out there to then,
where the answer would approach back.
Sucked back into vacuum black,
Away from the light heavier than dark,
Bleeding in red rose covered
in throes of pain, and beauty of blood.
Leaving behind or being left
behind the curtains of worldliness,
Grounded set her eyes silently
Breathing among the needles of needlessness.
Spongy brown fingers quenched by gentle tide
Eerie boardwalk creaks near the white sandy beach*
Lapping crystal mix of silt risen rush
Injects me with lovely imaginings
Purrballs scooping milk with ridgy cupped tongues
I'm zebra confined, house stripes shade on sun
Pallet paradise by the pier, free rent
Fat foot kids trample, rudimentary rods
Raised to find fish among pungent mangroves
The label I hide on my wine bottle*
Some ask can they come into my cubby
I wander off, tell them sure, it's all yours
Kids are too big, - I like them less than cats
They told me of the psycho cat's demise*
Psychotic in my absence, poor purrballs
A busy home befitted me, writhing
With action, scratching, litters, loud implores
Wrapped leg tailed affection restored meaning
Virus had no impact, purr friend Kingdom
Council had no business disrupting us
Sabbatical dreams after quarantine*
Let me sit again amongst my purrballs
Families leave with their buckets fishless
Within woody walls, water tint glass green
I lay blanketed by fish fattened cats
Piled purposefully, though haphazardly
On rocking vessel built of curved pallets
Bobbing on mangrove mazes burgeoning
With seafood delights no can can contain
Vino voyages bring my purrballs back
6th September
Collaboration Poetry Contest
Sponsor : Kim Rodrigues
I own only a phone, with no font change
capacity, may edit to bold if I get to a PC.
* end of lines marks the prompts given.
Humdumpty was an analyst, a Cambridge Ph.D.,
A noted bio-atomist, whatever that might be.
Indeed, from earliest childhood it was his single aim
To analyze no matter what might enter his domain.
He analyzed his father's watch and next the neighbour's cat.
Ah! Little more was seen or heard of Felix after that.
Astounding learned pedagogues, hard pressed to keep his pace,
Humdumpty grew up daily--in knowledge if not grace.
And then at university his intellectual power
Decimated Einstein and the works of Schopenhauer.
With ease that was amazing he romped a Double First,
And yet, for all his learning, nought quenched his burning thirst.
Despite the storm, and tumult that marked his inner life,
Humdumpty found the leisure to woo--and win--a wife.
He loved her--Oh! so dearly, his idol and his joy!
Alack! How oft our dearest 'tis we ourselves destroy.
One day in stormy weather he raised his eyes above,
And posed himself the riddle: "What constitutes her love?"
One night--to angels' weeping--the dark thought seized his mind:
"By scalpel and analysis the answer I shall find."
Full soon she took a sleeping draught, and when the time was due,
He set about his gruesome task, inspired by love so true.
How tenderly, how lovingly, he cut into her heart.
With what profound emotion he set his spouse apart.
To isolate that molecule in which all love resides
He scrutinized each corpuscle, and did much else besides.
All data was computerized, and ere a while had passed,
A reasonable hypothesis was imminent at last.
How tantalizing is the truth, how far--and yet, how near!
'Twas in the corner of his eye--and then would disappear.
It dawned at last upon him, his efforts would prove vain,
Unless he somehow managed to join her up again.
Of every art that served this end he tried the whole range through.
He first tried biophysics--and his last resort was glue.
Alas, alas, Humdumpty! There is a fateful law:
Some things men set asunder no mortal can restore.
They did not need a hangman or Madame Guillotine.
Before another week had passed, he died of bitter spleen.
Now some say he's in Heaven, and others, he's in Hell.
I'm not a theologian, it's difficult to tell.
For sure, he cut his dear wife up, and who would call that right?
But was it not his quest for truth that brought about his plight?
Beside the gravestone grim and grey, where the cast off shells of bodies lay
Seeking contact from within, this night she comes to summon him.
"Master won't you hear my cries, I summon thee to come alive"
As thunder breaks and storm clouds gather
Four winds of hell come together.
"Spirit from the ground arise,
As moon eclipses, time defy's".
No sooner said ,as soon is done, and stands before this unholy one,
Her request fulfilled, she's left so weak, as to his words, she hears him Speak,
"At last I breathe, inhaling your spirit, at last this thirst is quenched,
Your heat to warm my cold blood, the taste of death, a foul stench,
Fragrant the black rose that adorns my coffin, be still and welcome this night.
Your eyes recognise this presence before you, the tearer of corpses delight,
Fear denies your movement, no escape from this your fate,
Come unto my will, I leave this grave of mud and hate,
Placed within this wooden case
I give unto you this final resting place".
His touch upon her pale flesh, begins demise of consciousness,
She slips into the sleep of death,
As he devours the last of her dying breath.