Long Roped Poems
Long Roped Poems. Below are the most popular long Roped by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Roped poems by poem length and keyword.
Why I Will Always Be Alone
emptiness craving amorosity loathing darkness vintage dreams ravenous/heart gong a silent beat, shivering the desire bed empty since you left. Sex boiling with potent fire, aflame with thought another intracranial aneurysm; ganglion carbuncle inflamed headache tonight lying down before taking a pill. Open then heavily anchored, closed roped in thick tresses bountiful poppy opium smoke. Once was alive then metamorphosised a unisex transmutation: sod-asexual changeling.Come here lick me uplift me load me with your woes want to drink from your mouth a sup sip so succulent splaying my for you to suck into from, rape me with your love take it all leave now me with nothing at all, a lonesome child.***** Majora two cutaneous folds that extend downward from the mons pubis-+ Pussy — kiss me dead.
I sit engulfed in silence.
I lie alone in the immutable dark.
Despondent or merely lazy? Just what am I?
Poetic ideas are empty, my pen is still,
I try to write about my emotions.
Nothing emerges. There’s only emptiness.
For all around is hushed and all is dead.
How oft have I yearned for poetry?
How oft had I dreamt I am wallowing
In perfect tranquillity?
Sleep brings with it a ghastly dream,
Going through a portal grey
Into a swirling, ugly, evil fog
Of another time, another world.
Hush, sirens sing a ghastly lyric.
My mind is roped against a mast.
I pass into a shadowy glade
And walk upon a pebbled path,
No footstep resounds back to me
No living thing is seen around.
Lightening snakes amongst the clouds
I expect thunder but hear none,
I see the water fall o'er the brink
No roar registers in my mind.
I wake, I sweat from brow to toe,
I try to rhyme; I try free verse.
I shiver in the heat of muted night.
I wander around my chambers,
Noiseless rooms, devoid of life.
I roam amongst my memories,
Pain grips fast my mourning soul,
Then, unashamed, I weep
And yearn......
Just for an epic poetry.
Placed 2
19 May 2018
Who will tell how I roped the moon
When life has changed from place to place
And only in mind will be seen my face
Who will tell the stories I lived
How will be known my life a gift
The places I've wandered the wonders I've met
The good that came with no regret
Stories I've told and no one heard
Who will be left to carry my word
Christ if He did not already know
Would have questioned what He had to show
So many listened but never heard
His heart He poured out in every word
Jimmy Stewart was shown his life in a nights swoon
From saving his brother to roping the moon
From saving his town and his families birth
He then knew his life he then knew his worth
Who will show my life for me in time coming soon
Who will tell how I roped the moon
On a journey without any ends
Felipe never experienced real friend
So then
To start a new trend
He began to stand on two ends
That stand together roped tightly bend
Double douching destiny through a different lens
No pretend just blend
In a different way
Hardly recognized but bold, would say
it does not matter if people turned against me
They were the catapult that landed me on my feet
To see
Life began for me
When I was stepped on talked about misunderstood misery
Art classes choirs filled with glee
No one can be happier than me
See
It took pain to put me were I am
Whether if it were foes, associates or even Fam
Like Joseph in the bible they meant it for bad
Made a smile frown simply sad
Threw in a pit left all alone
Called many of times no one answered the phone
Grown mature and faced many obstacles
Stabbed and pulled like hair follicles
Gifts made room
Standing before great men women even moved
Were astonished and stood to there feet
Felipe was ran over but Felipe now can see
The beginning may have seem like an end
The end to his story has just began!
Her heart was like the eye of a needle and I the thread.
Stuck between two fingers, each time I'd get close.
I'd veer too far left or too far right, never in-between.
Nervous in motion A thin thread roped in ambition.
Though I loved her deeply I couldn't get her to see.
No matter how hard I'd try I always missed the loop to her heart.
The cold steel that looped in oval shape.
I've made peace with the thought that nothing lasts forever and though thread.
I've binded myself in knots, wondering if she ever saw me the way that I saw her, everlasting.
Believing that we could be woven in the thickest of bonds.
I loved her with the entirety of my everything I had to give.
Without arms I had nothing to hold above her head.
But no matter how many times I missed her.
Her shoulder became colder and colder.
My thread torn seam from seam.
It wasn't until then that I learned that somethings are better left untouched.
You couldn't rattle Tex
Ice water in his veins
No one ever saw him wince
let alone complain
Kept to himself, he did
Felt life was meant to be hard
Carried his lasso and holsters proud
Tackled fool rustlers, no holds barred
The range was his home, an honest calling
One where he gave his cattle free rein
'Til sundown was nigh, when he'd change his tune
Call in his options, by the light of the moon
Came a day when his ten-gallon hat
No longer was seen on the range, working at
The craft that he loved, more than life itself
Tex had roped his last steer, put his reins on the shelf
Over fury,over fright did she dwell.
Under strife,under shame: who can she tell?
Road thorned with scorn and mockery.
She was birthed as others were,
In honour,was she celebrated.
Stars of beuty twinkling in her eyes,
Tiled with radiance was her smile.
Ears set consciously like the brick,
Round waist, punched back,rolling like a steel.
Wealth was to her no problem,
Health,yet,was no problem.
Odds of nature in her found no delight,
Hacking her beautous qualities was this plight.
Animals have with what to feed their offsprings,
Diana had none,not even little and hollowed like a ring.
Night and day did she of this weep:
'Holy Lord,Let joy to me clip'.
Busty suitors had approached her frequently,
Roped in by the intensity of her beauty.
Elation had had her when they came:
'Ah! you have no breast?',all would say the same.
She has been living without a maiden's value,
Tell us please,what can we do?.
18:01:29:07:43
it was that dull ache that kept her going
a longing for freedom whatever that meant
confined to the straight-jacket of her mind
she tore at the shackles until her heart bled
clots obstructed safe burden-less passage
stenosed angry valves of calcified reason
fear-full emotion angst existential pain
tarred and feathered she hung on to hurt
became a victim of self-imposed torture
powerless tied to the tight roped noose
eyes gaping in terror torture blindsight
mouth twisted in agony and void scream
her ears throbbed from constant drumbeat
released vile pus that would not scar over
formed venomous channels into her brain
while relentless torture became the norm
all she did was to speak out against injustice
demanded to live and narrate her own story
pure untarnished by complicit thought control
but they crushed her pen and broke her fingers
mocked all resolve and continued to pulp her
into surrender and waited for her to give up
they fed her night mares and rationed the food
but insomniac and starving she became immune
to deprivation and depraved masters of evil
twisted wrists though fractured and disfigured
shaped her escape when handcuffs loosened
sharpened restraints into blades of defence
the ache did not vanish but altered her view
on humanity incarceration and empowerment
liberation comes at a price and increased value
she locks the door behind me and glimpses revenge
no pardon no thumb screws not even cut throats
for when oppressors have no one else to persecute
but themselves the ultimate punishment is served
23rd April 2021
Writing Prompt Ache
Constance La France
Love is not known and
can never be known, for
love cannot be weighed
like bullion or flour,
love cannot be roped:
a wild mustang running
free, never tethered,
never corralled, freer
than the North Wind....
Love has its own mind:
it comes when it comes,
will not hear entreaties,
will not beg its bread...
for love rules all worlds
and love soaks all life.
Love is a gangster,
obeying no laws,
taking what it wants.
And love is a priest,
making holy life's dirt,
redeeming then the
wreckage of hope by
pouring its holy water,
quenching all longing.
Love is a magician,
appearing in two hearts
at once, transforming
the beast into a man,
a girl into a woman:
an alchemist always
changing lead into gold....
And love can never die.
When the heart it holds
beats its last beat, then
love will soar with soul
to the next world...
for love is the only key
that can pry open
heaven's heavy door.
Love is not known and
can never be known,
for love is God,
and God is Love:
love without end....
[rec'd N/A in Brian Strand's 'All Yours' contest, 4/23]
Hank had cowboyed on the Triple T Ranch fer nigh on fifty years.
He'd rode the range herdin' beef peerin' betwixt his hoss's ears.
Durin' cattle stampedes he'd broke bones and many a time was throwed,
And he'd been astraddle his saddle so long that his legs was stiffly bowed!
He loved the cowpokin' life but he didn't become rich by any means.
He'd even come to savor Cooky's usual grub of bacon, taters and beans.
Durin' brandin' time he roped and branded many a steer's scruffy hide.
He was a master with the brandin' arn and he wielded it with skillful pride!
He liked lollin' 'round the campfire a-jawin' with pards beneath the stars,
Sippin' java that smelled like old socks, smokin' roll-yer-owns and ceegars.
He pulled many a nighttime guard duty in sleet, snow and peltin' rain,
Blowin' on his harmonica to calm skittish herds which was quite a strain!
He'll miss huddlin' 'round the bunkhouse stove as storms blew driftin' snow,
While he and his pals listened to Tex sawin' away with his fiddle and bow.
Hank hung up his scruffy boots, tattered chaps and sweat-stained hat.
He'd already given away his well-worn saddle and his 44 caliber gat.
This was Hank's last roundup herdin' cattle to Abilene up the dusty trail,
Cussin' and sweatin' to get 'em loaded up to ship on the Chicago rail.
He stopped by fer a few snorts with the boys at the Long Branch cabaret,
Then cantered off into the sunset on Old Dan his trusty hoss, callin' it a day!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved