Long Singed Poems
Long Singed Poems. Below are the most popular long Singed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Singed poems by poem length and keyword.
Paint a smile on my face, until mid-poem
a grimace arises and an acrylic peels.
What are these dark angels that cast such shadows
over my cheer,
force my hand to sketch
the grim roots of charcoaled teeth?
The sun is struggling to rise over a pastured valley,
while ravens pluck at my eyebrows.
Dark wings and meadow daisies mix and blend.
Death Head moths now emerge,
a word-canvas is once more lacquered over
by a dark and deep-throated coloring.
As quick as lightning, a clownish grin
flashes forth from singed paper,
such comic relief begets a portrait
of my surprised
and beamish laughter.
I toss fire down your throat
pour you your bullet, goblet to gullet
glass-jacketed explosions
line my wall like church organ flues
ablution for absolution from desperation
libation-liberations for exaggerated exhilarations
bottled fevers for believers
kneel your mind
choose your raptures
you’ve come to my altar
now your blood I’ll alter
shaken, stirred, swirled, singed with little bonfires
as potent a potion as you like
each percent speeds your ascent or descent
your thirst it’ll wet and abet
I have spirits to lift yours
a cure in every liqueur
bubbly for the lively
painkillers for loners
oh, I’ll hear your confessions too
earshot with your liquor shot, on the house
no judgement nor penance
just a warped sense of time to let you unparch your soul
salvage the day
and get ready to face the next one
I’m your friendly mercenary-priest
enforcing a restraining order against reality
one more?
Day joined to expired day,
nights lost to darkest night.
Another year has defected
to the phalanx arrayed against us,
their iron hooves now thundering,
their sheer number mocking
our plundered ranks.
Do we then muffle our laughter,
and await the slaughter?
Do we extend our wrists,
by the flood of years barnacled,
offer them to the tides to be manacled?
But no, we shall not forfeit the coming dawns,
nor grovel before time’s ghastly taunts.
Let us thumb our noses at these turncoat hours,
so their cackles shall forever be jarred by our song,
their armors singed by our bonfires,
and their bloating flesh branded with our footprints!
Let us empty ourselves into tomorrow
until we’ve drained our marrow,
so that the moons shall remember
that one sepia heartbeat in time
when we rose to the smiting hand,
again and again,
until we were deaf
to our hearts’ murmurs
and blind to the stars.
In the domain of dainty dawn gentle zephyr flows,
rippling the lustrous facade of the placid lake.
On the lap of the silky lotus leaf floating lonely,
rolls restless a dazzling drop of water.
The sparkling rays of the rising sun
transform it into an opalescent pristine pearl,
that the leaf embraces with love lest it falls,
but doesn’t get attached to its possession.
As under the sun the lake water simmers
within the cauldron of the scorching day,
the lotus leaf singed by the burning heat
scrunches up to see the end of its time soon.
As destined, the water drop wistfully dries up,
freed by the unattached longing of the leaf,
and disappears with the drifting air to obscurity,
for it’s a transient entity, never possessed.
On the wilted leaf in the twilight of my languid life,
floating on the ebbing tide of the consumed time,
my essence turns into a drop of elixir I embrace,
as it glows detached under the divine light.
Enveloped by the patina of permanent peace,
my soul lies within the fold of sublime serenity,
waiting to be released unpossessed,
to merge with the absolute one in the eternity.
_______________
November 5, 2022
Contest : Writing Challenge-Unburden A "U" Word
Sponsored by : Constance La France
Some say the summer sun,
drove them to the jagged peaks,
where they pressed their feet in snow,
and froze, defeated, swallowed by silence.
Empty skies above,
Hollow fields below—
Who will recall their vanished songs?
Who will cradle their echoes?
Others recall their beaks filled,
with plastics from tainted fields,
like cacti bristling through sand
choking the voices that once soured.
Some saw a trembling mirage.
A pool that shimmered, then dissolved;
their throats dried, their voices shattered,
Their chorales silenced by drought.
Empty skies above,
Hollow fields below—
Who will recall their vanished songs?
who will cradle their echoes?
More birds succumbed to wildfires.
That burned forests to blackened bone.
Their feathers lying singed in the ash.
Their shadows fallen, stilled, and gone.
Yet in the hush of this dawn,
a single feather drifted on the wind.
A faint lamenting chord was heard—
Perhaps the birds may rise again.
Where have all the birds gone?
Long time passing; long time ago.
Empty skies above,
a feather on the breeze—
a faint call in the hollows
Let's pray the muted sing again soon
In the silent spring.
In the silent spring.
Selected by the swift sound of hand to shoulder blade,
The bells upon their ankles sounded like seven trumpets
to me. I had been a chosen sheep among the Shepherd’s flock.
Lead me my Pharisees, I wish to see feel the glee in following
the Lamb within me.
The weight of my new necklace, crudely crafted of twine and timber,
swayed in a schism'd rhythm between my shins
bruises born from my steadfast faith. For I have never fasted
Before, all there was in my Ziploc bag was a single raw egg,
Two slices of wonderbread, three matches with no book.
I heard fireflies bounce in the air between my ears,
I could not see, you see I was blindfolded, but I felt no fear.
The marching sounds stopped, balsam trees surrounded me
and the rest of the chosen tribe.
Night befell the evening, the stars jumped and danced for me
For the Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty, His strength
flowed like the river Jordan in my veins. I had no chains.
Never had I felt grace like this before.
We awoke with gnats in our nose, centipedes between our toes
We arose, and our trials we must undergo.
Silence is the sound of our worship, broken by the
wood bashing between our bitten legs.
The kindling was wet, the bread was stale,
forging for food in the raspberry bushes, hunger flashed
in front of my eager eyes.
Memorize second Corinthians, some stories
I no longer care to remember. I felt the splinters
in my shins, the twine singed the hairs of my neck.
The breeze swung between the leaves and sung chants
that worshiped the King amongst kings.
The counselor crept out of the brush, and with
immense embarrassment I flushed
any of the chances of becoming one of the chosen few.
I could not immerse myself within the verses.
His eyes struck disappointment deep into my gut,
his knife drawn I knew I was cut.
The log crashed to the ground like lightning, the
twine left my skin red and raw. It felt like the
sting of a thousand roses thrust upon my nape.
My cross was no longer mine to bear, it was the end
I didn’t care.
I didn’t care.
I didn’t care.
I descended from the shining hill, back to
the cabins and basketball nets. I had failed.
There is a creek I will never wade, never cross,
I drowned in my disdain, my faith may be lost.
Another camper, another kid, lost in the flock
of the Shepherd’s failed kin.
I've gone through some emotional,
Spiritual and mentally challenging days
And I've learned to keep my faith in God
In the face of my dismay
I know hard times will always come
And that there will be rain
But with my faith in the Lord God
I know I will sustain
Paul himself had some rough days
As he carried forth his mission
He had road blocks along the way
Requiring some tough decisions
And when his godson Timothy
Needed support as well
Paul wrote a letter to him
A lesson in faith he did tell
A lesson in keeping the faith
African Americans can empathize
They kept their faith in the midst of slavery
And came to realize
They never let go of their belief
During the rapes, murders and lynchings
And never forgot the love God had for them
During the flayings, fetching and flinching
My ancestors held their heads high
And built houses to worship the Lord Christ
Never letting go of the promises
That He made over their lives
Forever praying never straying
From the message of love and hope
Never regretting and never forgetting
What they had to do to cope
A lesson in keeping the faith
By placing their trust in He
The Holy One, the Great I Am
Who gave them the victory
From the Middle Passage through slavery
The Civil Rights and Black Lives Matter
Movements
Our ancestors placed a faith in us
That won't diminish nor relent
For such a time as this
Our faith in God is all we know
We've gone through the bigotted fires of hell
And survived the racism inferno
We thank God we didn't perish
But we are singed around the edge
Because our faith in Him
Kept us from going over the ledge
And when I remember by Mom
And how she encouraged me to pray
She planted a faith seed in me
That has thrived in every way
A lesson in keeping the faith I now truly get it
That no matter what life throws at you
Just trust in the power of the Holy Spirit
Molding The Children of Time…
An igneous, metamorphic warmth
Singed my being leaving
My sable body in a convulsive state.
What touch was this that I had
Never known and will never
Know again?
Shall I forever be a transient
Traveling this silicon path of time?
Will the turbulent tides of the lives
I lived ever end their to and fro search?
The stone cold reality meanders
Through opaque minds whose human roots
Have been exposed and sheared by the volcanic
Wash that continues to bleach away true sown seeds.
Yet, like Job, God demands that I too,
Be put to the test that they must and will succeed
As we dig out the destinies that the soil of time will bear.
The seeding journey continues.
Yes, the harvest remains plentiful;
And the reapers remain few.
TWIN FLAME
confection of ideas —
candles understand
each other’s name.
soul sisters with hearts leaping
in breasts of recognizance —
breathing fire,
lighting up eyes, cheeks, the world.
red-haired stepchildren,
denied by society...
but arm in arm —
infinity rings.
one singular flame becomes blue
divides
each follows the flame
to the end of their rope
looking to bond
one with an angel...
one with the jerk...
the chasm between them
a smoke filled space
where no hope exists
they doubt friendship’s game
in golden years the smoke clears
but the rope remains singed,
irreparable
not even a tug-o-war can be played
one flame rises in death
the other descends in ashes
5/14/2018
For Twin Flame Contest
Beyond the skills of escorts
and the appeal of other playthings,
smolders the need of the soul
infused to best every man.
Twelve years have taken
the scars out of the memories,
from the last time I was
up and through
just to come down and out
to find every fairy tale
extends it’s hand
to some tragedy.
The odds don’t warrant
the time of practical effort.
Too keen to the liabilities,
always calculating ends.
It is not the demands of over
or having to start something new
rather, better to remain alone
than to be let down again.
But now I see you,
and it makes me pause
so still, with the whisper --
Are you sure?
Falls into a deafening singularity
forbidding even a scream, it’s escape.
I sit and can only see
the touch of Heaven
reaching across the Caribbean
to color your face.
As your smile holds the songs
of every dawn’s temptress,
under the soft disposition
of your eyes
rests a divine spirit’s symmetry,
smoothing features
while lensing each strand
the perfect frame.
That once moved a favored King
to murder a man, only to bring
the sword into his own house.
Enabled an army to take
a strong city with just one horse.
And enslaved the envy of Venus
to sharpen leaden arrows,
but fury slipped her hands
and bled her wrists out.
Blood clotted on the cold muck
of her grave, a suffocating cocoon.
Immersed the viewer becomes,
and timeless the window
of the heart that is God’s craft,
denying the deceiver’s forgery
of any singed carnality.
As if proximity has been given
within the mist of your perfume,
in just this one picture
of your face.