Long Scull Poems
Long Scull Poems. Below are the most popular long Scull by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scull poems by poem length and keyword.
your foulmouthed shout
weaves angry waves
bashes my ear drums
pierced I wail in vain
as the echo gets closer
staccato crescendo
climax refrain
can’t shut you out
cannot withhold
silence won’t come
until the final note
that fails to abate
our melody out of tune
sweet memories wane
why so cruel I dare
to object and stall
in anxious mourning
beaten I tap on my scull
hardcore discordance
dis-phonic noise pollution
where harmony morphed
into orchestral acrimony
until I dust off the harp
restring my guitar
triangular chords
block coda and pain
reclaim my own music
mute your assault
scream as loud as you want
eat your words
digest my freedom
croak as you wish
while I breathe fresh love
15th April 2021
Contest This or That Volume two
A far Cry
Sponsor Edward Ibeh
Cast Away And Close
Cast away on an island surrounded by seas far apart from
my soul mate and lover I am now viciously dependent alone
independent in solitude for a day years or forever or not
Connection I need and therefore I would want my ~ ‘Mind’ ~
to not have been knocked out when the mast of the vessel
collapsed on my scull when dehydration set in coming to shore
Without healthy senses I would die in recluse could not overcome
contused bones and bruised Self a squashed heart punctured lung
had no way to recover in view of starvation of tummy and soul
In itself this required ~ ‘Fortuity’ ~ the luck of the draw when the storms
arrested my journey condemned me to change my perception of
retreating into myself while I searched for some foodstuff and water
Without the grace of good fortune thanking well meaning stars the
Universe or some Goddess in gratitude would be bereft of thanks and
of meaning since in that case my life and reality had ceased to exist
Healthy reason and feeling saved by good luck and some tatters of judgement
would complete my kit of survival when combined with ~ ‘Hope’ ~ the
for ongoing search for meaning my plans evolution and dreams
Otherwise dead in the water and my longing stuck in the sands of
crusted time and oblivion the crystals of being any re-writing
of future and belonging once more would lie shattered and crushed
Me on that island and my story narration in such troubling challenge
facing trial and summons tests of my strength and acceptance
would be futile and senseless without
~ Fortitude and hope in my Mind ~
29th November 2016
THE GOD IN ME
I am learning - Keep getting burned though, I must stop trying to make everyone beautiful and accept the fact that "God also made ugly for a reason".
I need to stop consuming the contents, while ignoring that scull and bone on the label.
Beautiful outside and corrupted inside can also be misleading.
Pumping pride into people and painting them beautiful.
Does not make them beautiful be.
It only makes me vulnerable.
Right in the middle of my
laughter,
I grabbed the hand of another cut-throat.
" Oh, you charming devil,
tricks are for Kids"!
The spirit of discernment ascended,
“oh my God I am blessed”.
Yes, people who really know me, know, and have envisioned this to be my downfall.
"Being weak for people", "allowing empty souls to come to close", too soon, too fast.
The sudden death of my daughter left me vulnerable, and I was not able to discern.
Kai, my daughter had warned me, Janifer, my best friend has told me – Yes, those who love me best, have warned me.
Yet here I go again pouring energy into strangers, Strange attention whores,
who drains my battery?
Yet, there are angels those few in a million, who feels me, loves me, demands nothing.
Uplifts always, and since I have already found those people –
I will not further crowd my heart.
Meaning my heart hotel is full –
So, until someone moves out.
I will continue to love the ones who already occupy my heart, and not take in anymore homeless people into my kitchen to sup.
To the people who have warned me ...” Thank you, I finally see what's up”.!
Noise in her Mind
I know her so well she came long ago to visit my being
we share beauty and bedlam boudoir and kindest of spirits
She walks like a cat woman hears like a bat feeds birds
quietly she soothes thunder’s volcano howls with the wolves
Klimt’s Kiss Vermeer’s Girl With Pearl Earring Botticelli’s Venus Degas’s
Dancer In Repose Fedro’s Much Better With Age she
absorbs pastel and paint strokes symphonies on canvas
so many facets big bangs and roaring giggling convulsions
Sometimes Woman Laughing from Goya’s dark paintings
a Broken Column like Kahlo’s when some Munch’s Scream
invades and infests silence deep inside her beautiful scull
Voices shout from profuse directions focus condense and
refract confront tease torment disagree and interfere with
calm serene serenades when a few notes tender chords
and accord vanish into cacophonies misleading the song
I know her so well admire her resilience and how she copes
with the noise the disruption and the ballet of so many
different views pandemonious clangour onslaught of turmoil
as she appears calm on the surface orchestrates quiet composure
How she holds it all together I cannot really fathom with all that
jumbling distance so close and yet so far from my innocent mind
My Venus Of Milo has taught me so much most of it all and over
above that imperfection is a wonderful gift and very complete
Scull in the waters under the sun’s incandescence.
Go along with the wind’s rhythm and my heart’s cadence.
Sail far until orange firmaments paint you into black.
Know where you are heading – don’t you ever come back.
If someone finds you alone in the riverside floating,
You’ve got the opportunity to tell my words that are worth-sharing…
“You’re special and worth to be loved.
You’re more than any riches; don’t think you're unloved.
You’ve got a million reasons to feel joy in your heart.
Your stories are fascinating and they’re worthy to impart.
Don’t let your grief and hatred live in you forever.
Soon you’ll flourish and be greater than ever.
This universal love shall be passed like an endless ripple
It should last to save one or triple.”
January 8, 2021
The Last Love Letter Contest
My pen, as though wounded, bleeds,
Who on earth, its blood-flooding sound, heeds?
Tabula rasa papers turn pregnant,
Messages of peace-brim-filling excitement;
Midst clanging of shiny swords,
Who witnesses the wounded words?
Poetry is for lunatics, they say,
Might moves mountainous sway;
Blood should paint the world maps,
Dead should adorn the scull-caps;
Shells should illumine skyscrapers,
No podium for poetry-papers;
They march forward with philosophies such,
Though fear within, deadliest weapons they clutch;
Like monsters and vampires they fight,
Many, to Hades, take their flight;
Peace-poems, often, become wraps,
Of their not-so-hot-potato chaps;
My wounded heart, together with my pen, yearns,
Insane humans to realize their hate-churns;
Having battles lost and won,
Laurels of pride, heads adorn;
Losing wife, children, friends, kith-and-kin,
Sensory organs, like neon gas, brunt within;
Those survive try to trace and read the peace writings,
Die, ultimately, in perennial musings...!
28 March 2022
IF YOU READ THE WORDS OUT LOUD IT MAKES TOTAL SENSE!
Once eye never had a hare out of plaice
Now I’m going bawled and eye am feeling blew
People are laughing and are starting to stair
Eye am going horse telling them my tail
Sum folks are very suite and don’t mention my bold scull
But others have no hart and eye hate the way they teas me
Eye am not vane, but my heir has not groan for sum weaks
Who nose what will happen, eye cannot altar my hare with die
Eye think eye knead to ware a flour in my lox and eye will look sew sheikh
FICTIONAL WRITE USING HOMOPHONES
09~19~16
Drawn to the graves
Unbeknown clarity develops like root canal treatment
festering wounds and scull bones loom on the route
In reason and feeling I have no choice but to venture
an ancient drill grinds away carbon in my father’s grave
Gravity certainty narrative German post war collective
guilt betrayal crimes against humanity ‘we only followed’
Orders commands yet propagated propaganda and demise
a generation later my prerogative to look away falls by
The wayside on the path to Auschwitz the stench the cries
train tracks total war extinction ‘Lebensraum’ final solution
My officer dad a cog in the wheel just a soldier or willing
perpetrator and I too am getting longer in the tooth of time
‘What did you do what did you not’ and on a map in the
cellar times and postings little flags of when and where
I cannot avoid the void any longer and my atrocious search
for atrocities smoulders at boiling point and the search is
On for the roots which must be exposed from gold fillings
extracted to knowledge before cavities lie filled with pain
Might be covered with exposure of who I am as my father’s child
spinning on high speed mostly out of control
the washing machine failed to conclude any
of its operation according to a wished for manual
given at birth he had not much choice in the matter
due to the lottery of inheritance he missed the bonus prize
surely his emotional mind had often given way to reason
but logic hardly ever stopped the autopilot in his mind
and with the off button defective it guzzled energy
which his thinking muzzled confused inconclusive repetitive
not so much a merry go round but rather a scary rollercoaster
plunging from great heights into nowhere in particular
but with nauseous combustion and vertigo squared to infinity
stop he pleaded and begged for a power cut or the bailiff
to disconnect him from such uncomfortable corrosion
because he himself just could not find the trip fuse
was never able to cut some wires nor change charge or course
inevitable depression provided only temporary reprieve
and alcohol simply increased the ugly voices after a blackout
how he wished to wash his thoughts manually with a bar of soap
but even then procrastination took over and merely smudged the stains
it bordered on incurable insanity but by then he had well crossed any frontier
and to emigrate from his own self required a valid visa for healing
when he did not even know where his expired passport lived a new life
in the past he had paid for expensive medicines kind therapists and doctors
which numbed him for a while or simply passed some time with empathy
yet there was no cure insight no major insight and still misfiring synapses
he joked sometimes that he had seriously considered a frontal lobotomy
but the idea of a sharp instrument passing through his eye socket did not appeal
suicidal ideation changed into self-pity and the machine kept spinning in vain
when he discovered ego-cide and acceptance of suffering karma and gratitude
his life changed dramatically as the cyclones rotated into more conventional drift
eventually he realized he would have been much worse off with a cement mixer
because then the pebbles in the cauldron would surely have shattered his scull
27th August 2024
I rowed from Cambridge where
my scull was slapped by the wake
of the long boats from MIT and Harvard
then dodged the hodgepodge of
tiny sloops in the lower basin
competing and sharing the venue
along the bank in my "own" space
I drifted
flags waving from the shore spoke of the night
the Esplanade was awash with revelers
so many flags moved and reflected
off the lazy waves and celebrated
to the hum of strings straining to tune
the Anthem was the birthday hymn
The Stars and Stripes Forever
wrestled with my recollections
of "Web- Footed Friends"
Until Longfellow's soul hovered - smiling
and Tchaikovsky's gift reverberated
shell and cannon echoed over the Charles
and through the city spires
in the brilliant sky colors danced with
each embellished percussion
candles for THE birthday and
wishes for peace was in the hearts
of all who shared