Long Shut in Poems
Long Shut in Poems. Below are the most popular long Shut in by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shut in poems by poem length and keyword.
Humans have long trespassed
and destroyed animal territories
Humans have poached
And selfishly encroached
upon animal habitats
cutting down trees to build
human habitations.
Now the tables have turned
Humans are quarantined in house arrest
while some lie sick in bedrest
So animals not usually seen are having a fields day
roaming upon roads, crossing the streets.
Reclaiming the once jungle lands,
that had been turned into concrete urban jungles.
It's better that busy humans now become photoholic
than forever queueing
in lines of heavy traffic.
Without human pollution,
nature is all the more photogenic
Mother nature all a creation of God
has now had many of us grounded
as she gives us a hiding
while we go into hiding.
Extraordinary turn of events indeed!!
In several countries round the world:
Discos and casinos vacated
Pubs and nightclubs evacuated
Bars shutdown for lockdown
People are behind bars instead of guzzling beer in bars
and instead of animals behind bars.
Humans compelled to hibernate
so animals busted their cell gate
Priorly animals were in an enclosure
Now they are getting free exposure
Self-centred humans cared mostly about themselves
but now the animal kingdom is the cynosure
Animals were shut in cages
and now human activity is under similar closure.
Ah, this corona crisis!
Is all this mercenary stasis
for humans a roasting nemesis?
A heavy price to pay for rapacious carelessness and arrogance
where humans acted like they are in control, like they
are controllers of this planet
and they could do anything they wish with it.
It's ignorance to think all this is mere coincidence.
Im relieved our Islamic prayers can be said any place, anywhere
to kneel and bow to the one true real sustainer of the universe.
We need to invoke and supplicate to the creator
who is still in control...
as prayer can really truly prevent fear and anxiety in such scary times.
"I suddenly realised that coincidence is a word we use when we are ignorant of the real causes." - Albert Salvadó
(I was impressed by the news story in which Kuwait had sent a special plane to Italy to specially evacuate their nationals from there when Italy was heavily stricken with the corona virus)
I am slid into the core of the big white tube.
It will reveal all my moving parts
all the flagging and wheezing organics
that reside in the same apartment block,
share the same airducts and plumbing,
but otherwise hang in semidetached hutches
strung around my walled city.
My neck hurts, the cat scan takes time.
I get to thinking about cats,
how they curl up to rest
in the most unusual places. Cat’s would probably
sleep well in this softly clicking tunnel.
My head needs a pillow, arms akimbo aching.
After ten minutes of thinking in this sterile cylinder
I am an annotated movie of my life,
a surface feature for the paranoia of clinging plants.
I trawl stagnant pools for whale calls
or anything that can sing in my turgid being,
but only a headless language
floats up.
I can only listen to organs stirring; some drool,
some open small gummy gobs and gills.
Dim rheumy senses squint. Pulpy cisterns gurgle,
glands groan under a weight
only a shut-in darkness can weigh.
Transportation hubs and their arteries
continue their tireless gift-wrapped deliveries.
Muscular chemicals continue their Peloton workouts,
but the body as a whole is still wearing away
what it can’t afford to lose.
“All done,”
a disembodied voice declares.
I am conveyed outwards
on the worlds shortest rail track,
leaving parts of my mind behind to clean up stray fears -
remove the litter of mad ponderings.
Results will be days away,
until then black cats in lightless rooms
must find a way to be seen.
Ragged
Ragged heartbeats,
Shut in
But not
Shut out,
Tattered heartbreak,
Tragedy
Flung
From high towers
Swooping down in towering tornados
Descending
Ascending from foul marshes
Quick sand
Stalking careless footsteps -
Stealthy quagmires – fetid slime -
Like a shredded storm -
Lurk by the doorstep
Round the corner
Up the highway
On the highroad
Near the low road
Alone
But not lonely
Colleagues of long ago,
Companions on the quests,
Coax my muse to contemplation
Far from the scheduled, frantic crowd,
Erratic cacophony
Blowing horns, sirens,
Lonely whistles of nighttime trains
In frayed harmonies
Wooing scruffy inner child
Emerge
Play again;
Bundled up against the frozen banshee’s breath,
Sitting in the lap of time -
Lost and unrestrained
In candied dawns and lavender midnights,
Ignoring the scream of seconds to pay attention
Startled by life peeping in through rosettes –
Intruder with vacant eyes -
Calling dance with the dance macabre
To the dirge of who knows when shutters close;
Turned out
Not turned away
Turning ‘round -
Grabbing the hand of verse – friend called lyric -
To the sound of remembered carousels enchantment;
Freeing elfin earthbound energy;
Essence escaping boundaries at a welcoming hearth,
Exploding
From isolation’s shabby womb.
10-5-21
Contest: “R”
Sponsor: Constance La France
Never pass a kid’s Kool Aid stand
Whenever possible pet a dog
Believe that if babies could talk
they’d tell us all to shut up
Stop talking to the driver of the car in front of you
Don’t pick your nose in traffic
WE CAN SEE YOU
The poor man’s Jacuzzi
Hot dogs, beans and a hot bath
Never lend your cat money
Remember the night she had fireflies in her afro
Sip slowly the wine of life
Ignore those who say “you can’t do that”
Remember .. we have the right to be right
the right to be wrong and the right
to keep our mouths shut in both instances
Never trust Spell Czech
Believe whatever you want
It won’t change the past or the future
It will, however, muddy up the present
John G. Lawless
7/5/2021
Maybe the boy is "crazy", but "crazy" for the sake of art.
...You thought: "I can see, I am etched in the boy's heart,
but he is still 'flying,' he is still striving to take off, he has
'wind' in his head." Quote from a Chagall letter: To My City Vitebsk*
WILD-WIND ROSE
Stirs emotions supernal — Chagall’s Bella catching the cerulean wind.
High, a kite with eternal surrender. Her Marc never shears the string.
Zephyr of bling, facet of reflections in the moorish blue-diamond sky.
Mourning spouse clings to her angel wings.
Provokes intoxication of her white-linen collar — a candle sputters
the yearning of passionate colors — a tightrope walker tiptoes
between the earth and heaven’s gate, too many years to wait.
The artist brushes a wild-wind rose.
He wanted to shake her out of every snowglobe he put her in.
Freely, he had imprisoned her in his paintings — his creations,
and forever his precious wife was shut in with a gold-plated key;
Chagall signed. . . to exalt admiration.
7/14/2019
for contest FINETUNE THIS COLLABORATION sponsored by Line Gauthier
*From Wikipedia
**Wind Rose - a diagram showing for a given place the relative frequency or frequency and strength of winds from different directions (Merriam-Webster)
I love my wife with claws so sharp
Tentacles sure to squeeze me tight
The fangs that sink into my heart
Consuming blood for pleasure
Keeping me alive vampire like for money
One eye positioned at the center of her head
Another one in back behind the hair
For good measure to watch me coming
And going from the past with attention to detail
A glare, like a lighthouse blinking out hope
A beacon from my giant uni-brow wife
Guiding me on to the right side of the rocks
Where crashes are inevitable up ahead
Nearer to heaven than one might expect
I know what is good but she knows better
It is best to keep ones mouth shut in front of honey
My one hump hunchback. Why not make it three
Through troubled waters she is still my wifie pooh
According to her decree and she is always creepy
Watching me from the back
Parting her hair in the middle just a little
Which is no small matter but a little scary
I don't really know her name but that's ok
She stands ten feet tall or better
Carries a machete in her iron clad hands
She is my two eyed wife with one in the front
And the other out back which is fine
So long as they both don't stare at the same time
Sometimes I'm afraid
I'm a man and men don't understand
It is better to do as she says because she is enormous
I love her because she is there
And she never misses with a knife
She is the misses and I am always in her sights
Desertion is a way o' death
That language of darkness loop
the babe of Seth
Sparked within confines o' wood
Coffins of Being misunderstood
Expression became a way of breath
Solemnly consumed
too many times revived
For darkness ousted that once filled fear
Inside a lonely spirit drowned in tears
Glasses fulI cried at night
In silent devillish angelic flight
Melody promised to voice concerned
Untill in clubs bars taverns a dream was churned
Yet empty pockets remain the start
Of more yearning within the dark
Of night and silent wish
To succeed even more
To reach and break the lease
Of poverty bestowed upon
A dark curse one night
wrong choice a soul forlorn
To let my inner desire soar
'twas of untimely concern
I wanted so much to learn.
Doors seemed shut in silent reproach
Gone are dogs cats plants all ghosts
Taken by the hand of loss
To the wind happiness was tossed
And turned into an empty hole
Where nothing else resided
But death over turned
Past fulfillment
my replacement for love
Untill no feelings reached out to above
The level of where the hole reached earth
There in the hole the darkened fear gave birth
To a spirit wrought in flamres
The product of spirit yearning games
I don't want to spread bad news,
So I can't say who told me,
But So And So was seen down town,
In most unsavory comp'ny.
It seems a shame that she can't see,
Her actions tell her story,
But you know me, I don't tote tales,
I just can't help but worry.
You should have seen her carry on,
Or so I'm told of course;
I can't say for sure myself,
And can't reveal my source;
For that might cause them untold shame,
And throw bad light on me.
I wouldn't want the town to think,
That I'd drum up such folly;
But mark my word, sure as I'm born,
That girl will rue the day,
That she set out and marked her course,
Along the wayward way;
But I don't like to carry tales,
So see this goes no further.
Just pray for her and ask The Lord,
To bless her poor, dear mother.
"THE WORDS OF A TALE BEARER ARE AS WOUNDS AND THEY GO DOWN INTO THE
INNERMOST PARTS OF THE BELLY."
Proverbs 26:22
(Did you know that learning to speak in two or more languages is not nearly as hard as learning to keep your mouth shut in one?)
For Conversation contest by Frank H.
I DREAMT A DREAM LAST CENTURY
I Dreamt a Dream Last Century,
That babies were forsaken in the name of expedience.
That borders were shut in the nation of hospitality.
That music faded beneath the strident silence of apathy.
And that all hope was lost.
I Dreamt a Dream Last Century,
That men manipulated the hatred of a nation, to blind babies to justice.
That women cared only for themselves.
That pastors preached hell fire in the name mercy.
And that all hope was lost.
I Dreamt a Dream Last Century,
That a wind from the east formed like a whisper.
I Dreamt a Dream Last Century,
That a wind from the east like a whisper began to awaken minds and manifest
rhymes and take the reins to a glorious revolution.
I Dreamt a Dream Last Century,
That a wind from the east caught hold of a generation and we said in
unison, “NO MORE!”
Amen.
~~ The Between Us~
The onyx darkness.... crawled all over me.
I, who lives in a land populated by free humanity?
Split in grievous parts by a 'cancel culture.'
Who has decided, who counts, and who does not matter.
Meanest, law breakers now rule this earth.
It's unreal and horribly dishonest of me not to sing this
mournful dearth.
Freedom shrinks like a punished, naughty child.
And the unwoked, "Woke" are anything but mild!
Murder, rioting~now quite an accepted thing.
But only for those within the palatial Woke ring.
Church doors are slammed shut, in so called free nations.
Priests are in jail, as God, not the state, is their true adoration!
Boys and girls, may no longer be addressed as such!
But,must ponder their sexuality and in primary grades, so much?
Is there a sane place in any country on this earth?
No, all choked with fear, that's why I write this with no mirth,
Go ahead, laugh your way out of slavery, you, who dream
you are free.
And like the foolish, powerful Egyptians, will drown shameless, .
and Godleaa, in another overpowering Red Sea.
4/8/2021
~2~