Long Screeches Poems
Long Screeches Poems. Below are the most popular long Screeches by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Screeches poems by poem length and keyword.
and if I had a home,
maybe i could hide in it's womb;
crawling out to a new beginning,
but pieces of familiarity hold me ashore.
with winds so harsh and nights so cold,
there is a city in my dreams;
her soul screeches as she mirrors my own.
she has seen me, a quiet rageful teenager,
bloom into the arms of youth;
she screams her lungs out,
so I can breathe;
for I can only find peace in a tempest.
which city would do that for you, she asks?
An unfaithful tear leaves my eye,
I want you to feel like home,
as I fall into the dilemma of hope.
I am a mere stop in your journey she cries,
My heart cannot contain ambitions so high.
I will come back for you and your tides;
Your skies cradling me up as I lay beside,
I am haunted by where the journey decides I belong.
The many cities I have encountered,
They never wrote me a song.
A city up in the north, she sings lullabies
An old soul, she's very wise yet,
Not a single word when I had arrived;
Just a faceless soul and bound limbs.
She still manages to smile aloud,
Even cry when she's filled up to brim;
I look at her and pass by again,
still in search for a home,
but whenever a city comforts me;
the thread of fate unties,
and I am left again with a new soul,
figuring out her voice.
When is it time to finally grow up
Does it occur like a stranger that suddenly shows up
With the hands of a bomb that explodes and blows up
As the smoke burns the atmosphere as the heat goes up
When is it that you begin to see clearer
When you cast aside all doubts that makes you inferior
Grabbing hold of the present so the future comes nearer
As you begin to see more than just a reflection in the mirror
When do you begin to hear past sound
When the steps you take stride further than ground
Your actions emulate the knowledge you have found
Treating yourself equal to others around
When you grow up is it never too tough
Or is there a time to know what's enough
As if your emotions were calling your bluff
To remind you that reality is neither smooth nor rough
What does it mean to become an adult
The significance of adolescent hormonal assault
As bustling playtime screeches to a halt
While the wrong in your world becomes your fault
Yet the change is subtle you feel each day
Until the amusement has faded from the games you play
As your gestures of courtship you put on display
As affection is given with the attention you pay
As you learn more you feel closer to life's solution
Until growing starts to go up causing imbalance and confusion
You blame yourself for embracing your dreams living an illusion
And convince yourself that hope is mental pollution
But where the body stops the mind keeps growing
Until the knowledge of life starts overflowing
The illusion of hope is the only thing showing
As the fabric of our own reality we continue sewing
Visitors
Frantic bass shakes the farmhouse windows.
The red pop-top screeches into the driveway,
its driver pounding on the horn.
Two men in the back, shoulders moving to the beat.
The three vaulting in sync
over the doors
onto the pavement
sauntering up to the house, through the garage,
pulling open the studio door,
pressing into the dining room.
a breeze drifting through the open window
three figures freeze in place
fingers skimming beneath the jaw
chins quiver
ears resisting the tug of fingers
blinking eyes
fix into stillness
masks dropped onto the light cherry-wood table
under the flesh, a flickering translucence
bodies already thinning at the shoulders
the three turn toward the open door
raised fists closed in one last salute
the red pop-top backs out of the driveway
masks left discarded
on the dining room table
eyes unmoving
lips flutter
The stern sun frowns and mocks
At the hide and seek of creatures sly
In the dunes of the wide sandy stretch ;
One chases the other with survival shocks ,
While the wheeling winged vultures fly,
Viewing the supine, torn and scattered wretch
Being bitten or pecked in wild hunger,
With grunts and screeches to feel stronger .
The arid air greets the cacti hostile,
And the invisible , bleary blanket of heat
Envelopes, scorching and parching all through
The land of dying hope and dead smile ;
No shelter nor a hide anyhow to retreat ;
In light or in the dark , every meek move
Finds anxious uncertainty haunt with disdain,
Leaving no choice : breathe or abstain .
An awful aroma and fragrance dense
Fills the woodland and the thicket thickset ;
Whispering leaves and the avian melody
Back up the anxious roars, and chatters intense ;
Any venture ends up in sigh and fret ;
Living is reduced to a receding parody ;
Might is right, and success a chance ,
And futile, pangs flow in resonance .
Round the lake is the overgrown greenery --
A meadow of reeds and creeper- brace
Looking over the peeping lilies that smile ;
The large remnant mirrors the cosmic scenery
To make up for the missing trace --
A little domain to live in , the while ;
The spell of croaks and chirps in tune
Enlivens it's own ethos with the croon.
The cruel and crafty hunters of prey,
Wait to pounce on creatures indolent ;
Often the seeker is sought unawares as victim ;
And the run goes on night and day,
With a blend of action and reaction silent ;
No order nor method prim : just so grim !
The realm with space and possession is null ,
The impulsive spirit of life goes dull..!
On my first spelunking excursion with a few friends
I got separated from the group, and hysteria quickly overtook me.
The cave led to a dank cavern, and when I lit a match, I could see
a kaleidoscope of colors reflected in the stalactite encrusted ceiling.
Looking down, it seemed there was nothing but perpetual darkness,
and chaotic thoughts raced through my mind.
Suddenly I heard a cacophony of screeches and clicks,
clamoring towards me from the bowels of the Earth.
At that moment, it felt like the apocalypse had arrived,
and I half expected to see a horde of demons rushing to devour me.
Cringing in fear, I felt the sting of a thousand bat wings hit my face
as they swarmed past me, stealing my breath as I soiled my pants.
Terrified, I screamed like a little girl
in a state of panic, petrified with fear.
My friends heard my pitiful cries,
and a chorus of snickers and laughs preceded my rescue.
Hell's fury ignites the tormented winds of horrifying fire.
Earth's howls in pain, as its land degenerates into a nightmare.
Swirling red dust and sand tortured and tormented the fallen.
Blistering is the swirling ash and flame beckon into its calling.
Tornadic flames and ash forming a bird of fire, she screeches in pain.
Unfolding its magnificent wings of fire as its flight broke hell's chains.
Soaring above the inferno domain, she knows her creation.
With a thought and a word, she destroys this horrid desecration.
Empty darkness covers the domain awaiting its master's touch of light.
The phoenix, with another word of love, creates Earth’s beautiful life.
Gleefully you and I smile from a scenic window on life
Enchanted by nightfall befriending quixotic autumn sky
Embossing crimson brushstrokes on vermilion arc
Akin to a painting in classical style of renaissance art
Parading in front of our eyes on a thrilling train ride,
When orange glow of sinking sunset playfully smiles back,
As we savor shrimp-creole with red wine in the dining car
And train-tracks beneath us rhythmically clickety-clack
Negotiating the panoramic curves befitting forested lands
Announcing the mighty reach of whistling train-horn,
When the half-moon above peeks through twinkling stars.
Balancing gingerly footsteps we jaunt back to our roomette
Settling in on narrow bunk beds in a tiny modest space
Marveling the red, brown, golden foliage trickling outside
Falling on multi-color motif carpeting the misty grounds,
As engine screeches intermittently, braking, slowing down,
Screaming loud whistle-calls, approaching station stops.
We endeavor to sleep until dreams invoke beauteous dawn
Awakening to thick white clouds of dense morning fog
Slowly giving way to glorious sun-rays piercing the forest,
Where cheerful robins dance upon a long leafless branch
Welcoming marigold sunrise on the horizon’s blue path
As you and I reminisce in the whispering night of romance.
October 24, 2019
HM: Strand special by Brian Strand
From Atlanta to Washington DC on an overnight train
VIDEO/AUDIO on YouTube above. NOTE: On the video; double-click to enlarge, and/or, right-click for the drop-down menu and click on 'Loop' for auto-repeat, click settings and pick the highest level for quality viewing.
The Hub Of The Earth, I
Some vehicle screeches toward soundless nights,
a wheel cover errant for intimacy,
as it settles midst different roadside slights.
The decreasing engine roars criminally,
pruned for a snapshot temporal existence,
the bright hub unpolishes pitilessly.
The earth's orphans coexisting subsistence,
under new suns and periodical moons,
melts in a blink of an eon insistence.
Meddling miners carved canyons, felled forest looms,
a blue world shadows as a universe watch,
sculpt mountains, charcoal skies, oily oceans, dooms.
A womb will reinvent the species that botch,
our metamorphosis cast a new sasquatch.
2021 March 13
*1st Place*
ALL YOURS (Mar 20)
~~Brian Strand
Moonlight bright is my Pom-pup, white,
Follows me, like a guard, upright;
Suffers my shortest absence, tight,
Animal with loyalty-height;
Barks emotionally...
Stiff straight sharp ears listening clear,
Whispers of the breeze she could hear;
With toe-bean paws agilely steers,
Digging me with claws, my care cheer;
Meows mystically...
My parrot is a green garnet,
As though Artemis incarnate;
Takes pleasure in skate and gyrate,
Ruts, whatever heard; does narrate;
Screeches reproachfully...
Crown tail Betta, my fish-sweetie,
Seems symbol of marine-treaty;
Like white, black, red, green graffiti,
My aquarium adorn beady;
Rattles delightfully...
21 April 2022
The subway station heaves with muffled noise,
The shuffle of countless feet against the grime,
I am aware of unfounded disdain,
Coursing between strangers in the city's bowels.
The ancient fluorescents blink in yellow strobe,
Casting faint light on self-assuring cries and whispers,
Where breathy sighs of pity mingle with laughter
That hides like vermin in the concrete seams.
The old man's stare, bitter, unwavering,
Follows the young man with a foreign tongue,
Each syllable grating on his weary ears,
Each word a puncture in his sense of self.
The tracks beneath pulsate with distant rhythm,
An electric hum heralding trains,
And all around, unseen but felt,
Silent inner pleas for the world to be as I see it and want it to be.
The young man's cap is tilted with casual ease,
His eyes bright, unguarded, full of tomorrow,
While the old man's grip tightens on his cane,
Knuckles white with a lifetime's anger.
And then, a sudden scream and rush,
The young man trips, stumbles, and falls,
A quick descent into the void below,
His body meets the rails with a sickening thud.
The old man flinches, a breath caught in his throat,
The echoes of horror ripple through the crowd,
The subway station halts, a silence heavy,
As the train screeches, too late to stop.
The old man's eyes, now wide with shock,
No longer see the young man's accent,
Only the lifeless form where he once stood,
The shadowed truth beneath all their words.
The strangers around draw closer,
Their differences momentarily blurred,
In the shared reality of what they've witnessed,
A grim reminder of fleeting, fragile life.
The old man turns away, his heart a twisted knot,
The anger replaced with a somber void,
The self-assurance crumbles like brittle stone,
Leaving only questions with no clear answers.