Long Singes Poems
Long Singes Poems. Below are the most popular long Singes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Singes poems by poem length and keyword.
The cob webbed city sticks to my dirty skin,
as I pass through its predator strings.
On the corners are hustlers, men with wigs and worn heels,
selling their wares, fighting with women,
over property rights.
Traffic moves slow, crawling along like a large slug,
melting into the blacktop.
Your eyes get accustom to waves of heat,
rising like dragons from the burning street.
The musky smell of filth singes the air,
while old men linger by drug stores and bars,
smoking old cigarettes they found, coughing.
Hey buddy, do you have a light, some change?
Still, I'm alone.
A wanderer, born from tainted soil,
surviving on wits and will.
Stopping at every liquor store and chili parlor,
searching for pennies.
Knowing each minute as a day,
as I stick on the soles of society's shoes.
A reminder they don't want to see.
That young is old when left to fend for themselves,
and evil is a weapon never born from a gentle touch.
Gray days are constant,
as life becomes motion with unintended reasons.
Stopping long enough to disappear in the city's web.
People passing by see only dirty shoulders and backs,
leaning against graffiti walls,
trying to stay out of the rain,
until the doors open and the soup line moves.
It's there I feel human, before wandering back,
to my rags and cardboard.
I'll try to sleep away despair as humanity passes by,
with their cold collective misunderstanding of misery and pain,
carried on the backs of the unfortunate homeless,
as we lay in the garbage of society's world,
crying without tears, holding on,
until we just let go and fall into the abyss,
where our bodies are then removed as Jane Doe.
contest A Poem Time Forgot
Their raising that black flag as everyone looks in horror
As the Iraqi defenses sag they burst on through the door
And the ghastly sights we see and how shocked we are
Saying this shouldn't be, no one should ever go that far
Sometimes 25 are killed in a day as America cringes
And the words people say for their own heart it singes
Then they vote pro-choice and they don't even realize
The silencing of any voice is the same where satan lies
But America kills far more as to God they also overruled
If it's killing the unborn you're for, you have been fooled
The Creator has no distinction each Created in His Name
However in what you have done carries a lot more shame
Ironic in the land of the free 3,000 unborn a day are slain
Over there what you see is the same as what you engrain
But we dispose of our dead, a slurry of 3,000 unborn a day
So whatever you have said, of yourself you must also say
Jack O' Lantern jeers through
molten screen
With fiery eyes and a fifth sense
so keen
Masked goblins saunter in shadows
unseen
Wily Jack swills jade folds with
florescent stream
Billowing ghosts in phosphorescent,
satin mantles teem
Stolid Jack bathes in Hoary Frost's
velvety Vanilla Bean
Gaunt Scarecrow from barren field
garnishes Per Diem
While gilded Jack siphons his rich,
mellow meringue
Black-caped witch casts spells
hinterland residual to glean
Domesticated Jack scans hearth
skimming every melancholy dream
Rabid bats swarm o'er stinging
insects with stealthy sheen
Endearing Jack charms fluttering
moths with radiant gleam
Bleary-eyed werewolves' curdling
howls seep through each woody
seam
Spry Jack o'er quilted courtyard
flutters his palling requiem
Creeping ghouls seek spilt warmth
to redeem
Jilting Jack singes their hems with a
boiling steam
Upon a ridge
In misty blue
A lone tree sways
In song.
Dew drops race
A morning chill
Calls upon the dawn.
Seasons change
Rearrange
A flowers dream
Is gone
A skyward gaze
A quiet place
Reflecting
A long lost song.
Within the wind
fluttering grass
murmurs
a muted hymn.
A thousand blades,
a thousand braids,
all of it is him.
In the breeze,
sun-baked leaves
sink
unwillingly.
A blistering blaze,
a faltering gaze
singes
the lonely tree.
In the clouds
an old man smiles
his face lit
by the sun.
Pupils chase
a sinking flame-
paradise?
But a bittersweet escape.
The evening seas
beckon the moon,
stars wishes
burn abloom.
A fluttering gaze,
dissolving rays
seeking
A long lost face.
Promises not kept are like brutal blows,
ruthless ripping words are the harsh slashes.
They strike unaware where latent hope grows,
cleave through the ruptured heart as it crashes.
The mind becomes angry fire of the wild,
uncontrolled, it simmers the blood of pride,
flares to burn the gentle patience defiled.
Not dowsed, it singes sound senses defied.
The smoke billows up opaque and intense,
conscience trips losing its stability.
Vile breath is charged with ashes of hate dense,
face of restraint they destroy instantly.
Anger then turns to perilous terrain.
That’s not safe, so get away from it sane.
Unmet expectations hit hard
they damage what they would,
unkept promises are like blows
they strike where hope grows,
unkind words are harsh slashes,
they rip through, the mind crashes.
The mind becomes the fire of the wild
Uncontrolled, it boils the blood of pride
as it flares, burns the gentle patience,
undowsed, it singes the sane senses,
untamed, it blazes relationship chords,
so long preserved to build the bonds.
The smoke billows up thick and intense
upset conscience trips losing its balance,
heated vile breath is clouded by the ashes
the patient facade of restraint they deface.
The flame flows in the inflated veins
no more carriers of blue blood within,
the heart turns into a volcanic inferno
erupting fiery lava called anger to flow.
November 8, 2017.
Having taught GCSE’s, A-level’s and degrees,
Sue switched to primary teaching with a PGCE,
And won the Yorkshire/Lincs Sportsperson twice,
Was given the MBE for her services to charity.
She’s a patron of Rainbow House, disabled kids,
Which offers them conducive education, trying,
And she organises fundraisers for cancer research,
Along with encouraging sports games by coaching.
Sue has attended every Paralympics since 2000,
And at the Commonwealth Games in 2002, 2006,
Won two gold medals in the Women’s EAD Singles,
Where she did not panic, tense up or get into a fix.
Originally as a child, she played as able-bodied,
But her Ehlers Danlos muscle, ligament disease,
Meant that Sue used a wheelchair from age 17,
And her debut was the Euros in 1998, a release.
By 2005 she was the European Champion, gold -
Sue had won silver in 2003 as a pregnant lady,
Gold in 2013 at the Bayreuth Open in Germany,
And she took a bronze in the Europeans heady.
At Vejle in Denmark, 2015, she won the bronze,
In the team class 4-5, and at Lignano’s Master,
She won a bronze for the same event, the team,
But Sue won another bronze for the singes caster.
She just missed out on a podium finish in Rio,
She comes from Dodworth, Barnsley, S Yorkshire,
She was born on the 19th day of August in 1972,
And trains in Barnsley. She’s a mum of two, on fire.
Unmet expectations strike hard,
hurting where they languish long.
Unkept promises are blows earned,
hitting where they find no resistance.
Unkind words are slashes harsh,
ripping through the calm conscience.
The dormant volcano within the soul
then gets the upsurge of melted psychic mantle
in the crust of brittle tolerance,
that collapses in the caldera cradling the vent,
reaching the magma chamber in the core.
The soul erupts the lava in the wild,
burns the gentle patience as it flows.
Uncontrolled, it blazes the heart,
undowsed, it singes the sane senses.
The smoke billows up thick and intense,
clouds the deranged essence.
Words rise like Sphinx from the toxic ashes,
perish the patient face of mental restraint.
The flame surges in the stream of neurons,
no longer the carrier of conformist signals.
From the volcanic inferno of the soul
the erupted fiery lava called anger flows
in the torrents of blistering words,
scalding whatever comes in the way,
blazing a furrow for the reticent life.
Unkept promises are like brutal blows,
ruthless ripping words are the harsh slashes,
they strike unaware where latent hope grows,
and cleave through ruptured heart as it crashes.
The mind becomes raging fire of the wild,
uncontrolled, it simmers the blood of pride,
flares to burn the gentle patience defiled.
Undowsed, it singes sane senses defied.
The smoke billows up opaque and intense,
conscience trips losing its stability.
Vile breath is clouded by the ashes dense,
face of restraint they deface instantly.
Mind then turns to volcanic infernos,
with dancing lava of anger scorn flows.
Besotted, beguiled, bewitched,
I walked outwitted and benumbed
into her web of love willingly.
She stared at me like
a black widow sizing up her prey.
What draws a moth
to flirt with the flame
or a nimblest fish
to bite the deceitful bait?
What lures a fawn
to step on the snare?
What heavenly bliss do
fools in love seek to attain?
As the moth
singes in the flame
and brings not its wings
to steer away
Nor the feisty fawn
set itself free
try as it may,
So does he
who’s smitten with love
to wiggle and thrash about
like the foolish fish
until his last breath!
He who dallies with a maiden
With rue his heart is soon laden,
Dabble not with this flame of love--
A firestorm from the heavens above.
Slip away, oh, slip away
at the first light of day!
~Form: 3 Freedom