Long Rattling Poems

Long Rattling Poems. Below are the most popular long Rattling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rattling poems by poem length and keyword.


Medusa

The Medusa 

I painted a picture of a tranquil bay, a red boathouse
rowing boat, golden pebbles in shallow water 
naturally, the sky was blue, the mountain afar hazy.
A noise upstairs, the woman rearranging furniture
doesn’t go out and gets bored, breaking the dream.
When she was done, I looked at the painting again
it had changed; the boathouse had holes in the roof
 the mountain was too close, gloomy and snowy
 In the sea, a medusa, with tentacles reaching
70 years back in time when the aside was spoken 
lasted into the future.
The sting of the medusa had a woman’s face, stung.
When the aim of the bite had gone, the hurt had not
putrid through the ages, a wound that does not heal.
The upset said: “we can no longer tolerate this slight
against us.” We are a proud nation.”
No one knew what the remark was about, it had been
vindictive, and a demand for a historic apology was issued.
Sabre rattling, ambassadors left armies at borders
 war broke out.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Aggression

snakes uncoil...
            ready to strike
                   before
          rattling their tails.
    flames of rage crackle;
             white-hot on
                 highway.
               two drivers
                   hissing,
               exchanging
                invectives
 madness reigns supreme!
  game of Russian roulette
                   played...
     with lives on the road.


Writing Challenge - Yalto Form - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by  Constance La France
Date: 12/03/2022
Form: Verse

Morning

While the morning dozes in handedly
The sun paints inciting vegetation 
Bit of greenly sward, applauds, snappishly 
Moving, moping, in startled asp'ration 
Lying in torment, unpretentiously 

Wide-eyed land, romps energetically 
Iridescent sunrise, floating flightless 
Forenoon savors in sparkl'ng veracity 
While the world spins in absolute hushness 
And rattling in sweet regularity 

Gloating tenderly, in edgy touchness 
Warming the earth, raindrops, tumble from sky
And cockcrow holds its head high, in closeness
Feathered creatures in day peep, unify
Untamed wild, fills local space, once afresh

Premium Member I, Zombie, Part Viii: the Ending

There’s no greater joy
Getting back a loved one lost
Price paid, but no cost

Tactics once employed
By the Monster and his crew
Work no more on you

Healing you have found
You have taken higher ground
Beat the Monster down

Doppelganger’s gone
You will sing no more its song
Do no more its wrong

The Zombie’s shaken
From nightmares you’ve awaken
Conquest hard taken

Daemons exercised
Your life you have taken back
From fiendish attack

Honor highly prized
The ending is now the past
You have won at last!

Sulking in the cage
The monster’s making his plans
To once again rage

Rattling his chains
The daemon waits to regain
Control of your brain

You still must defend
For the Monster lurks, my friend
To return again…

To one’s self admit
I am an alcoholic
I’m bipolar too

Duel diagnosis
If you are, what you know is
Don’t let your guard slip

There’s miles yet to go
Take it one day at a time
And you will survive 

This time you have won
But beware of the Daemon
It’s never ‘the end’…
Form: Haiku

Premium Member A Quiet Break

I rented myself a cottage,
In a quiet and peaceful place.
I needed time to sort my life,
To give myself some space.

On the morning of my departure,
The sun was shining bright.
I didn't know it was about to change,
When I arrived that night.

I settled down for the evening,
Glass of wine,and book in hand to read.
I needed peace and quiet,
If In my quest,I was to succeed.

Around 10 o'clock in the evening,
Tired and surely spent.
Up the stairs I did climb,
And off to bed I went.

A startling noise awoke me,
A tapping rattling sound.
Dazed and confused, suddenly awake,
With noise's all around.

I crept towards the window,
Branches banging on the pane.
The wind had started howling,
I could hear the windswept rain.

I heard the rumbling of thunder,
See the bolts of lightning strike.
Lashing rain upon the window,
In the tempest of the night.

I look towards the woodland,
I see a shadow standing there.
Red eyes reflected by moonlight,
Towards the cottage it did stare.

The cottage lights a beacon,
It must know that some ones here.
My legs like lead,I can not move,
I'm sure it's getting near.
          ____________________
If you want to know what happens,
I'm sorry you will have to wait.
My story will continue,
If the shadow reaches my gate.

21/10/2021
Form: Quatrain


Here

Ohio is right here, and the rattling gold of
earth-born corn is here.
All over creation the sky is wide open
and the green and yellow stalks are swaying
right here.

Here the wind-songs are rough and ready,
yet they are as holy as any prayer.
Over there a stand of trees
where the olive frocks of summer
sway and shimmy.

The mud and dirt here is as good as any,
all just as rich as anywhere else
and the grubbing creatures in and upon it
are our wealth

These fetched-up farm fields
are sure-enough an atlas,
the roots of heaven rise below us,
time delves and sprouts here,
the sky descends to till the soil.

This is the land beyond the great river,
the sun nests here, and the stars appear
reflected in up-turned eyes.

We are the unrolled map, we are rural Ohio,
come walk over the world here,
rest on a wayside bench, linger long
or stay - right here.

Premium Member Summer Love

Summer love, a man, a woman, conception, a new born 
Ring the bells, amplify megaphones, bugle the cow horn
 
The ceremony begins, baptism, cries, holy water 
From two one, family, father, mother, son or daughter
 
A priests blessings, proud grandparents, proud parents, birth anew 
Hospital papers, a birth certificate, much to do
 
Tears from parents, tears from baby, tears from all, tears of joy 
Breast fed, nipples, milking mothers, changing diapers, oh boy
 
A songbird sings, rock-a-bye-baby, lullaby's at large 
Aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, sitters take charge
 
A pacifier, a cradle, corners of stuffed toys 
Hanging crib toys, singing toys, jingling bells, rattling noise
 
A new generation, of life, all this, in summer love 
A woman, man, baby, a family, from god above
Form: Sonnet

Unreliable Ride

My memory is like an ill-tempered old car
that refuses to start
on cold, miserable mornings...
or sometimes stutters
and shudders to life
in fits and starts with rattling parts

Names and faces of those behind me
shrouded and clouded in thick exhaust fumes
'til memory resumes and smoke starts to clear
...oh, what was the year?

Then suddenly (without warning)
the engine revs high, and I start to fly
downhill fast, into the past
brakes not responding, gripping the wheel
too much to feel
that terrible fear- stuck in high gear...

Old trauma impacts like a car crash
re-living events that
don't always make sense
deadly debris and jumbled bits of trash
litter my head, feeling half-dead
confused, in a mild state of shock

Although a car is a useful thing-
sometimes it's safer to walk!

Premium Member Testing

Lisa was carefully pulling a strand of cotton candy off a paper-coned “barbe à papa” - winding it around her finger while absentmindedly gazing at a carousel. She seemed hypnotized by its white horses, trimmed in gold, with their brassy red and blond manes, as they hopped, like slow-motion rabbits, in circles beneath wreaths and garlands of colored lights. 

My watch jiggled me awake, mid-dream. I was bemused. It took me a moment to orient myself. I groggily pushed the sheets off and performed a big stretch. It's Monday morning, I think. “Alexa, what’s today?” I ask, to be sure. “It’s Monday, April 25th,” she says.

A beautiful, if cloudy spring morning was going to bloom on the other side of my jacobian glass windows - any minute now. At least according to my weather app. “Alexa, good morning,” I say, to start my rattling, sputtering, steampunk sounding coffee maker.

College time is warped, measured more in deadlines than minutes. There’s no plan other than your class or test schedule and let me refresh you on the rules – there are no rules, I’m free to do whatever I want. I actually chuckle at that thought. 

College is transformative but there’s a hoary sameness to it. Read, discuss, review and test - wash, rinse and repeat. This morning is reserved for test review. I have a final this morning - well, sort of. 

Some classes have a quintet of tests instead of a big midterm and nerve-racking final. It smooths out the stress, but you still have an almost forensic exploration of ideas, and you want the answers queued-up, ready for easy access.

I quickly washed and donned my workout-wear. A glance at my watch told me I was right on time. I’d loaded my shoulder bag last night, with my book, highlighters, my phone, Air-Pods and a water bottle. I grab it as I head out. I’ll do my review on the treadmill. 

Anna opens her door just as I do mine - perfect. We’re off to the gym.

The Hunt

Lamp light flickers in the howling wind
In the cove with blizzards cold that stings
Rattling glass and metal house a fragile flame inside
Balanced there on ancient oil
Held by the trapper's nimble fingers
Frozen as they go
Fox pelts are dear
Fetch very little at the trading post 
Snow piles higher than prices ever will
The thrill of the hunt is gone 
As the game goes on for miles
Legislators took our guns
All weapons banned forever
The only way to catch our prey
Is to strangle them to death with hands
While they lie sleeping
They must lie better than Senators
To pay the price for living

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