Long Sandwiched Poems
Long Sandwiched Poems. Below are the most popular long Sandwiched by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sandwiched poems by poem length and keyword.
Puzzling, miraculous and random
Are the ways of life
Thinking, probing and planning
Warding chance and incident
Avoiding event and inadvertence
Moving with care and caution
One tries to steer through the trail
But he reaches the crossroads
Pauses to know the right path
To reach the destination of his choice
But all remain mute
The crossroads do not speak
He is all alone, and lost
Fortuity takes over and he moves
Sandwiched between right and wrong
The road leads to a blind end
Devoid of options he Stays there
Days, months and years pass
Collecting his cool and strength
He starts the journey again
With gusto and delight
Flushing out his solitude and seclusion
Finds a multitude of souls
All haphazard, ignorant and confused
Unable to guide his bruised past
Simmering inside
He continues with his quest
Encounters a wise childhood friend
Opens his heart to the sharp dude
But what comes out of him is:
‘Life is like that, dance with destiny’
And the void continues
the tears quietly leave my eyes
but their path does not seem
to have a rhyme or reason
and they have no destination
no purpose but to outline
my ‘self-imposed misery’
with glistening and watery pain
i want to cry
every hour of the day i want
to cry out and shout my anger
at a world that doesn’t give me
answers to my desperately
fervently whispered questions
and i wish on every first star
i can find hoping
that my prayer will be granted
and this all ends
lost and dead inside
i float through an existence
filled with silent sobs
and nights of lasting agony
not from anything valid
just from the disgusting and despised
life i make my self live
yet if i knew how to escape
without being gone forever
if i knew how to fix
this hole in my heart i would
do it and be happy after
and not have to worry about this
pressure in my chest and this constriction
in my throat and the nasty creature
that gnaws at my insides
the creature that is anger and
depression two sides of the same coin
with terror sandwiched in between
these free-flowing thoughts that course through
my fingers and out onto this screen
do not seem to have direction or any
order and truly they don’t
except to highlight the darkness in my
soul that buries deeper into the shadows
every minute the blackness that engulfs me
grows stronger and i pant
out of breath i try to reach
the lighted surface but am held down by
the tendrils of agony that have
wrapped around me
the tears quietly leave my eyes
but i make not a sound
alone as i am
there is no need to let anyone know
of the knife protruding from my chest
and the needles that pierce my mind
letting these ramblings leak out
and drip onto the page
where they lose all meaning and are
only a jumble of words trying and failing
to shift into coherent sentences
akin to the pieces of my life
that are racing to fit together
into the picture they are supposed to
create but the salt water is melting the
paint and the colors are bleeding
until i am unrecognizable just
pigment no living painting
in the sight which is blinded by
the tears that quietly leave my eyes
and drop to the floor.
I dreamt that my uncle sat next to my father in a field.
They sat upon a concrete slab. I think a septic tank.
Their coats beside them and a guinness bottle in the uncle's hand. They had been
saving the hay.My uncle was also looking across the open road and could see a river
and he was wearing a no sleeved jumper. 'De jar vous' hit me in real life.
(I actually saw this complete scene thereafter including guiness bottle in reality).
Another time I dreamt I fell out of our bed and became sandwiched between the bed and
a wardrobe. I struggled with my elbows to raise myself up.Then, I suddenly had a torch in my
hand and shon it through the pitch black ahead. A torch in the distance switched itself on in mid
air and shon directly back into the light of my torch.-
(I then woke up ) !
I heard a story from my Mother who at 10 years of age was saving hay with her mother in 1941.(People in Ireland then lived far a part in terms of walking and all were farming).Both were alone in the huge expanse of the field forking hay. Then in the ditch a cry came out and
frightened my mother. A whaling type of cry she said. Banshee, who knows!
However, My grandmother clutched her close and immediately said to her 'John Flynn' has died and we better go up to me house. Grandmother knew well a distant od neighbour was ill and had been for days and may die. After a long trek through the fields to the house and after one or two hours a knock came to the door. Another neighbour called and said that indeed this man had died. She never said she got notice of this to the neighbour from the ditch and thanked the caller.
(How could such a thing be treated in such a matter of fact way by my grandmother)?
Ian Foley
Form:
There are tons of things in the world that really matter.
And then, there are those that make you say, "Who cares?"
I was awakened this morning thinking about the word, 'WANT'.
If one broke down the word WANT, what would it look like?
If one saw the make-up of each letter, what would one see?
Does anyone even care about the individual parts of a word?
Oh, pardon me, my name is Triviality, and people call me Trivia.
Anyway, I was thinking about the four-lettered word, WANT.
I saw two 'Vs' that form the 'W' and two lines that made the 'T'.
The low-capped 't' has a vertical line that is curbed at the end.
The infamous 't' has a much shorter horizontal line crossing
the curbed vertical line just below the top to form a cross. It's
not that I don't have better things to do., but Trevia is my name.
I know. If this thought never crossed my mind, who would even care?
On a side note, the one lone vowel 'a', lives among three consonants.
But hold on; I'm almost finished. There are two crucial letters to go.
Did I tell you that my name was Triviality, and people call me Trivia?
Anyway, to me, the 'a' and the 'n' in caps have a uniqueness about them.
They are quietly sandwiched between the 'w' and the 't' to complete the very desirable word, WANT. The 'a' in caps is an upside down 'V', bridged just above the bottom by a horizontal line. The 'n' in caps is created with two leaning 'Vs', like identical twins, one up and one down. It's not that I WANT to spend my time like this, but what can I say? They call me Trivia.
062522PSCtest, Premiere Poetry Contest, Brain Strand
the Babylon of bubbles,where plastic shamans blow illusions of loveto a mixed people of iridescent colorssandwiched between a soapy film of confusionMan’s disillusion of building a rainbowed utopiaas they dance and sing in the high places hiding behind a green treeForgetting man shot the first arrow at heaven,as the pot of gold, at the end of the rainbow,calls the kettle black accepting everything,without central rule is the babbling freedom of anarchySlaves to their own sins promising liberty God is a God of order and not the author of confusion There is only one Way and He does not need the help of manWhat is highly esteemed among men is an abomination to GodMan’s attempts to build a utopia will always, become a bubbling dystopiabursting, into endless lulu tearsof a seared consensus, suddenly a rainbow policemen awakes,somewhere off the grid in Kansas,with a headache and an empty bottle of snake oil
On my way to work this morning,
Sandwiched between two perverts,
I opened my eyes to look beyond the sky;
Someday, I will be out of this bus!
Standing in an overloaded BRT is quite a challenge,
Different flavors of armpit odor diffused through the air;
From the rotten tomato to the concentrated ammonia and decomposing rat flavor,
Certainly someday, I will be out of this bus!
My wallet gives me hope..yes I’m saving...
Someday, I shall ride my own car,
And enjoy the warmth of its air-conditioned aura.
I shall cruise this whole city with joy in my heart,
Silently acknowledging passengers in the BRT.
As we approached the unfriendly atmosphere of Oyingbo market,
Polluted by chili pepper powder;
Passengers sneezed and coughed as they inhaled the air;
Simultaneously arguing about opening or closing the windows.
Everyone seemed confused;
I was more bothered about the phlegm from the old man that had dropped on my cheek!
Amidst all these, I still tried to wear a smile,
Yes, my fat wallet gives me hope.
I shall begin my driving classes in the coming year;
Certainly someday, I will be out of this bus!
Alas, we got to the bus stop.
Everyone pushed, squeezed, trampled upon, and cursed one another.
Everyone wanted to alight at the same time...
I waited in the now spacious vehicle of receding putridity;
Receding passengers I mean...
So I could alight in peace when the rush was over.
I checked to see that my dress wasn't too rumpled,
Lo and behold! My handbag was wide open.
?With trembling fingers, I delved into it...
Wallet had disappeared!!!
("Anagogical Moments Merit Badge" #39, 2011, original oil)
As Above So NOT Below
The tripartite world of material appearance
Sandwiched between the infinite depths
Of the unconscious
And infinite expanse
Of transcendent supraconsciousness
Encompasses all that is and isn’t
Known and unknown
Desired and undesirable….
Confused, turned upside down
By our own inverted perceptions
Most of us contentedly live
Lives of ignorant bliss
Even though it’s more often one of suffering
Nestled securely in the middle
Within the sandwich of two ineffables
High and low.
And then there are the few
Driven for whatever perverse reasons
To escape the safe and mundane
Striving for transcendence
Most often settling instead for descendence
Into the unconscious.
This is the easy path after all
The downward path of gravity
Earth Mother
Universal womb
And holy bhaga.
And so we go
Tempted by The Fates to strive
In whatever way they guide us
For the unattainable
Or that which once attained
Dissolves all other….
And so we rise
You and I against all odds
Against the force of Nature
Somehow turned upside down again
Totally mixed up and thus righted
In our confusion
Breaking for a surface
Which holds the light
A surface dividing
The above from the below
The earth from sky
The Mother from Father
Our past from future.
Rising, propelled with the last trace of breath, prana, chi
To break the surface
And cycle of existence
To finally at last break free.
To take another
And dive again.
(11/23/23)
My witchy teardrops, dandelion oil, mystical, magickal dust
Faerie Tales, cockatiels, sandwiched between rusted trust
Of movie reels, bootlegged steals, cyber-world, & for reals
Myself as a wild-child & lonely found you across the sea
At the time you didn't know that soon you'd be her final reason to breathe
And you'd be her reason to believe
You'd crack the door to your heart, & then slam it when I was near
You liked to lock up the most attractive parts of you because of your simplistic, insecure fears
I wasn't allowed to be welcomed into your heart for years & years
I'd get too close & once more, you'd slam the door yet again
If you felt out of control of your environment - then nobody can possibly win
You're mad at me for the lack of interaction - but attempting to interact with a workaholic will never yield compromise-able satisfaction
In my experience with you, it always held an unpredictable, bottled-up reaction
Instead of cuddling, smoking, & just relaxin'
This non-communicative, Scorpio, an eloquent, self-confessed introvert would always stay deeply immersed in your work
Never really gave an attentive chance
Even through our initial, fiery romance
You seldom got to experience my mind & body both - like rhythmic, melodious smoke
The worst time for us to be together back then
But something told you that we were worth sacrificing the work we put in for many years being metaverse friends
That was a roll of the die I didn't want to try
We'd have to sacrifice all the time spent, or end up simply saying our goodbyes
the trepidation-monger
offers his wares
at a discount
sneaks in a price hike in
every now and then
relabels panic and anxiety
three for the price of two
best before tomorrow
he serves a long queue
hyperinflation
calls for more worries
and he dispenses
feelings of dreaded alarm
but not to fret
he has unlimited supplies
unchained at his shelves
he is not perturbed
by internet shopping
because virtual distress
is only half as good
as coming face to face
with the façade of sheer horror
a consumer society
overwhelmed by
fast food delivery
of gloom sandwiched
in between lost hope
and trepidation
unleashes its offer of
unlimited causes
for despair in light
of dark purchases
across the road in a small outlet
a little old lady offers happiness
free at the point of delivery
priceless to good homes only
money does not cover her cost
and yet she engages in
the trade to grant transient relief
from fear of fear and its triggers
an unsung hero
because most people had forgotten
how to sing dance and enjoy
so exhausted were they
from finding reasons
for misery and deceit
she is too old to call
her venture a start up
too wise to wrap up
her gifts in fine glossy paper
a rubber band will do
to contain comfort and courage
calm and cheerful she greets
an occasional customer
and advises to look carefully
at the writing on the wall
graffiti maybe but scripted with love
Sand of wisdom, I seek for your counsel
since you're prudent in warning against building on sinking sand...
Oh, your choice to interview me is commendable...
well, take these ABCs sands for character-building:
Always take a firm stand whether you're on rocky or sandy ground
Blossom beyond sandy soil if that's the only one available
Carve creations circumspectly using sand in your design...
Dare to do the impossible through God Who made sand everywhere
Explore* more, to learn about the greatness of the sand...
Wow! I am now getting your sandy point...
Are there some more?
Free yourself from getting sandwiched through faith's fortitude flight
Gear toward gracious glow while basking along sandy shore
Heartily share hope as you collect sand for your hour-glass gifts
Instruct about healthy benefits of walking along the sand on barefoot
Jubilantly pursue your dream of painting sunset brightening white sand...
Yes, yes... I will surely publish your advice
May I have your parting words, please?
Keep on appreciating life as gift, bearing in mind sand's vitality
Live along leading of the Lord, leaping high, leaving footprints in the sand!
Thanks so much!
*Daniel 11:32 … The people that do know their God shall be strong, and do exploits.
November 28, 2022
Edited on March 30, 2024
12th place, "The Interview (2)" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Anthony Biaanco; judged on 4/28/2024