Long Slab Poems
Long Slab Poems. Below are the most popular long Slab by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Slab poems by poem length and keyword.
My love, Josefin Slab
My first thought the time I wake up
My inspiration in moments I create art
My joy when we chat and laugh together
My strength when I'm on job
The last person I contact before my sleep
The only girl in my mind
The beautiful creature I found
With your sweetest voice and charming smile
With your amazing chatting emoji and laughs
And that walking-dancing baby emoticon
With your crazy mind I love
One with wonderful picture posing
With your brilliant yogurt skin color
With your perfect dressing fashion
With your fantastic ideas and advice on me
From your inner attracting power
A person I can submit my soul to
A person I commit to end in love with
I'm too favored to meet and know you
It isn't enough saying I'm crazy about you
You made me love
You're my weakness.
You make mincemeat of attention on calling my name
It's splendidly something we're grabbing ourselves at
My sleight of hand is premiered by your discernment
But understate yourself in giving someone a drubbing
And provide no rooms for amendments on your skids
Which depreciate the possessions in your proficiency
To affect wiping the floor with joyous love of ours
Really that it needs our synergistic ink to put on paper
I wish to destruct that part of you, likewise you'd
Unto me to paint the tints, shades and tones of loveliness
To sketch the signs of courage and put tolerance details
Keeping warm hues and cold saturations on our tongues
Kindly I request to open your mind and meet with mine
That we can share such fruitiness as matching goals
Safely and sufficient enough getting to our destined cliff
Though you impairs the ontology behind, I quite wonder!
I'm no more down at heel as you slowly met
And no longer experience little love laughs
Which solemnly stole my entire belief on
To smell the sense of dirt on our papers
By free graphite shine no other can see
In that a wild manner stirring sincerity up
My keen to rub the dots of one another
An eraser whose outcome is dusty
The pixels I granted to suit the resolution
The saturation of my tolerance being warm
With all recipes from your soul make up
Frozen springs partly exploiting our intent
A little I'd hatch is a one you crossed
A garment you wore set your eyes into no blink
That my feet found no sand to stand on
But only sweet regrets and sad charms to fall in.
BOTTLE DANCE
Across my land, abysses gnaw at automobiles,
From the foot of the mountain,
To the shores of the oil fountain.
Certificated youths drinking piss to mellow their brains,
Clutching at wheels, dodging bumps into fog lights.
“Stupid, ing dog” curse survivors of amputation “you bastard”
“Who cares, you swine” retorts I the offender
just before crashing into the next one.
In my shack, counting my yields and sighing,
evading the burning eyes of hungry breeds.
How did I ever get here?
In the ring stood I, surrounded by Foncha, Endeley, Jua and Ntumazah
Um Nyobe sang the UPC song and they danced.
They danced the bottle dance.
Sandwiching in the center, on the slaughter slab, my motherland.
Nigeria to the left, La Republique to the right,
Trampling upon outright independence.
Foncha danced and Endeley danced and Nyobe sang and Britain watched.
The tune was clear, the rhythm was jazzed but the lyrics were blur;
Whence had a nation’s independence,
Been conditioned upon attachment to already independent states?
So how did we ever get here?
A loaf of bread baked in the flames of WWI
And served into the plates of Imperial barons of foreign insanity
Too blind to the tongues of oneness.
Drawing a line far far away in the halls of mirror
That tore grandmother’s breasts apart.
The story of the Ewes of Togoland
Was being whispered in her land while she slept.
A line dragged across the highlands of the Adamawa and drained into the Atlantic,
Sullied the virginity and orthography of kamerun.
Grooming a set of dysfunctional twins through years of alien doctrines,
Only to be reunited in an unholy matrimony called Cameroon or Cameroun.
Testaments of tongues foreign like those on a devil’s Pentecost,
That sowed seeds of immortal division.
So this is how really I got here!
A son deprived of the warmth of a Mother
Drained of her milk,
Tapped and shipped offshore.
Scorned and oppressed by a brother,
His name slowing fading away from the sands of time.
And now, the land of bottle dancers clamour for a new dance:
For I know how we got here and I too want to dance;
Federation to the left, secession to the right,
Trampling upon the pseudo 1972 re-unification.
The blood of the brave pipe the tunes
And rhythms of gunshots meet hallelujah,
Sang in a coffin.
Crimson Waves Flow, As From A Red Rose,
(From Sonnet Triples)
In Time, its eternally winding winds
therein flows a grace not to be denied
Earth, Mother Nature, oft man's truest of friends
are tears of joy when in purest Love cried!
Crimson waves flowing as from a red rose
as a brave seeker his true love thus finds
she, rare beauty from head to dainty toes
loving in return sets Love chains that bind!
Together, bonded as romantic pair
soon days and nights become one joyous blur
she a graceful goddess with Raven hair
he handsome prince, sworn to never leave her!
Mother Nature, Spring's new to all given
weds in bliss, true-love and happy livin'!
Robert J. Lindley,
Sonnet- Triples, ( From Magnificent Book of Fate and Life )
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Eternity, Its Scope, Life Its Great Game
Consider the Vessel of Hope, its Flame
Eternity, its scope, Life its great game
Imagination, fairies dancing, trees
Love, sweet romancing, the birds and the bees.
Consider the Season, Spring- Life's new rains
Sensuality, its breath, birth- its pains
Youth, its brevity, Time its flowing winds
Passion, deep longings, what future portends.
Consider the End, darkness, all thats gone
Mere Words, written on slab of cold, hard stone
Sorrow and Loss, finality- the Grave
Truth and Light, mercy, faith that truly Saves.
Consider the Vessel of Hope, its Flame.
Eternity, its scope, Life its great game.
Robert J. Lindley,
Sonnet- Triples, ( From Magnificent Book of Fate and Life )
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Alas, Such Is Mystery That Awaits
Beneath the rainbow, its treasures so hide
for most of life is a great and wild ride
yet within dashing days, some loss awaits
little is gained, if one too oft tempts Fate.
In our daily walks, temptation abides
from darken traps, we must close seeking eyes
with illuminated truth, search for more
dare to sail, land on paradise sweet shores.
When adversity, both heart and soul breaks
could it be a testing, that our tree shakes
shall we, in despair- curse this given life
or courage, battle world's usual strife?
Alas! Such is mystery that awaits
As we but dwell firm, within Hands of Fate.
Robert J. Lindley,
Sonnet- Triples, ( From Magnificent Book of Fate and Life As Was Once Lived )
Orphaned Slab
by Odin Roark
They call me a foundation
once supporting siding and stone
wire
plumbing
shingles
Through the doors of my house
trailed family and friends
across kitchen floor
slanted slightly
letting Benny’s agate marbles
migrate to the corner
Atop my shoulders
a house of character once stood
usual middle class floor plan
even allowing spidery webs
their solace in pantry corners
squirrels their roof
foraging to cottonwood trees
shading the three second-story bedrooms
kept perfect for home visits
from children away at college
Downstairs
Everett’s TV room rocker
always moving back and forth
massaged my back
well
it was a mild massage through the flooring
mostly my imagination
coming as it did
through layered rugs and cat hair
Yeah
used to hear mother’s complaints
“That old vacuum is useless. We need a Kirby, damn it”
He’d usually stop his rocking for a second or two
then let her know “Just lean in more. All it needs.”
and back to his rocking “Kirby. Out of her mind.”
But
Come spring break
Sara’s boombox
was rocking of another kind
no imagination needed there
reminded me how secure
this old foundation was
until the afternoon when…
Felt like a distant train
but the clackety-clack of rail cars
was out of sync
out of control
Wind moved in
then rain
then wind and rain
then that God-awful train again
had to be from Hell
or someplace worse
thundering through…
It was a long night
Been a long couple of weeks
Weeds and spider webs now connect
through cracks in my body
A squirrel or two survived
peeking about once in a while
still clinging to their downed cottonwood
wishing the foraging path was still there
wishing there was something to forage
Me?
Well
I’m just a surviving foundation
awaiting tomorrow’s sunrise
hoping for just the right temperature
early in the morning
before the sun adds its bleaching effect
and I start to remember again
Perhaps I’ll have earned
some afternoon showers
some nourishment for the weeds
some droplet sparkles
for my spidery friend’s web
and who knows…
We’re regretful of so much loss
the other slabs and me
but a foundation is a foundation
that’s what we’re built for
The start-ups
The start-overs
Orphan today
adopted tomorrow
So goes the life of a slab
A life some might say
is a thankless existence
Not so
The company wishes to research an idea.
Creating slotted aluminium frames that
Would be 18 inches thick centered between
Two areas.the external area would be double
slotted to house a poly thermal fiberboard which
Is housed behind a weather sealed plyboard. Which would be tightened
A sealed with weather resistant sealant.
The interior would be a weather sealed
the fiberboard internal plyboard would be to
exposed to create an interior wall. The idea also is designed
To use rough untreated lumber both interior and
External. With in the 18 inch cavity sand, cob, concrete
Or strawbales could be used to create the complete
Wall. An aluminium frame using the same dynamics
Would make the roof creating a pocket to be filled
With dirt, rammed earth, or cob to create a roof which
Could use external roofing to complete the project.
The structure would sii on footings and a concrete
Slab would be poured internal to create a floor.
Using rebar in both wall and ceiling is make uniform
Structurally sound walls to protect you from the elements.
Over lapped roofs to rid water run off.
Door and window kits designed to create a designers appeal
The structure to be priced under $10,000; with connection
Packages to create the mansionary roommate of your personal desire. Wealth determinational appendicitis dwellings. Using earthy materials to lessen the price of
Construction, allowing the aluminium and wood to create the
Desired look. Stain and shellac the plyboard. Scorn and oil
The untreated lumber. Create the perfect look.
Research and development.
Idea two...
Use untreated lumber to create 16 inch agaped boxes of fill
With a mixture of dirt and cement with rebar; of make the boxes with plyboard exterior attach rebar,fill two inches of cement fill with straw and.mud and cement mixture cap the top with cement.first you have to drill holes for bolts to attach new sections of the same material. Use plyboard to cover the area. This walling process can be used with a tracoring plan to allow the walls to be site receivable once cured.
Or creation of an aluminium frame with fiber walls walls
With poly insulation boards agaped and filled with earthen matrails priced under $10,000 to be attached to a trailers chassis.
The rat tiptoed to the house, picks up a thread
While the soft spoken black cat is, still, in bed
Sleepy, but, she is to battle it, to win, for today
To gain her breath, in solitude, for another day
At first, she will fetch water, from a sacred well
Passing through the silent field of fears, of hell
While the sympathetic morning moon watches
And giving her consoles, with uplifting touches
Of hopes, to warm her shaken, but noble heart
From the cold of early morn, that torn her apart
Before the fading moon could bid her goodbye
Her tiny feet has swollen red, like a chicken fry
The rat sadly waves her bye to the fading moon
She kisses gladly the first crow, with her broom
To sweep the scattered butts, of Marlboro Light
Before favored kitten come, and give her a fight
She uses her magic matches to light the sticks
Delicately set at the center of a three big bricks
Eggs and bacon, with riz Cantonese to prepare
The boiling silvery pot, patiently, waits her care
While the family feasts, the rat runs to the room
To fix the beds’ pleats, and then, she will zoom
To clean the ruin of wars, on the two slab tables
Before, she finds herself drown, in little bubbles
Her paled skin got burned, from the blazing sun
While the soft spoken black cat enjoying the fun
Of watching, the afternoon entertainments show
That the rat never sees, for she has list to follow
But, before the day ends, the poor rat was bitten
By the soft spoken black cat, left.....right up to ten
That made her soul cries, under the mango tree
Hides her tears, in the dark, no one will ever see
Only when the soft spoken black cat’s gone away
Thus, the rat feels happy, for she has time to play
In a world, where no creatures exist, but, just her
She now lives in illusion, in her own, fake laughter
The rat has beaten many times the first cockcrow
For the soft spoken black cat, not to live in sorrow
Till she left her, nothing, but full of fear and wraths
Forever haunt her, even if, she takes dozen baths
O God, the rat has a phobia, ‘cos of this black cat
Won’t you ever pity seeing her sleeping in a mat?
Or when somebody, with shot, scratches her tail?
For I cannot stand, seeing how human beings fail
1. INCIPIENT
the smell of burning body helps me sleep at night
i'd rather ignite this spark in my stomach than shove bread down my throat
singe this hollow home
choke these lungs with bone dry soil so nothing can grow
and maybe they brainwashed me
or i did it to myself
but all of my dreams lead to being skin and bones
the humming of crackling wood whispers
"starve"
i listen
the humming of crackling body whispers
"this is all your fault"
2. GROWTH
this skin is getting too hot to live in
i, the embodiment of a fire breathing dragon
i hunch over
choke on second hand smoke
and misconceptions
there are so many ways to feed into desperate
too many ways to swallow yourself whole
i let this esophagus sizzle and cry
i lie arms spread naked on the bathroom floor catching my breath
a slab of meat thrown onto a cackling grill
fatty and full of blood
sized up and bitten into
violated by my own opinions of beautiful
where bitter
where acidic
where a dysmorphic enemy does not linger
nibbling at my tonsils
3. FULLY DEVELOPED
i am engulfed in flames
these charred hands stain my body with words like
"bony"
like "thin"
like "sick"
this flesh can't escape the freezing creeping up on my being
the trembling of limbs
the chattering of teeth
is a physical trophy
"congratulations!" you are one flicker away from broken
winter almost melts me
christmas and thanksgiving
piles of food fresh like flesh mocking me
rotting in front of me
a mirror image of my organs and intestines
abandoned and squeezed
some sort of puzzle
pieces twisting and breaking
i sit quietly
they ask "aren't you hungry?"
i don't tell them that it is too late for this fire to be put out
or how often i dream of drowning
4. DECAY
a guilty arsonist
i toss my lights and my matches
sweep up the ashes
what is left of my home
and i start building
i blow out the candles
shove my hands into the wreckage and chew it up
i won't spit it out this time
i fill myself up
i introduce myself to my reflection
say,
"hello. i am healthy"
say,
"i've missed you"
a phoenix flies over a body she burned
a city she burned
a world that she burned
says
"go. go find out what happiness tastes like"
On a shattered pebble beach my kernel,
becomes this dervish dancing to the maniacal symbol rash tune,
of inchoate monsoon grass beat timpani,
that’s dimly frowned on by sonic virtuoso,
but terms like briny carrageen sea sweep gain purple splotch kudos,
I gaze with indigo ocean eyesight,
at sheer rock face sunken mould gradient,
where faculties solicit august maxim,
from eternal parchment, grain whirl sand dune smorgasbord,
mud-strewn psalms primed and pumped by ebbing sotto voce stream,
gust smitten lighthouse whose solitary pulsing wink always welcome,
syntax that gray matter genesis scorned geoform tag,
I scribble quintains in a quagmire that ooze magma inkling,
prose stolen from jagged facet incline or whatever,
has this elemental moment turned ghost writer by sixth sense?
saline vista swung pivot on tsunami doorway,
brackish carcass rife with clamped seashells as mirror,
weather-worn thoughts skim eccentric apex,
behemoth undertaker facing self-scripted gauntlet,
but this pilgrim shall yearn evermore imbibing loose mist,
with marble slab as jotter and squid ink another fountain pen,
who really knows what tidemark gems may yet surface,
do metaphors sequester diurnal cycles like day/night swop?
rhetorical or not this lambent aspect must be met on grit-etch blue boulder,
vice-grip of visual plunge belies gravity,
yet this blustery conundrum is just this water drop,
something inconsequential for one clutching at faint will-o-the-wisp,
pepper-strewn haze does obstruct linguistic odour,
despite a caustic rebuff from deep down warden as inner slant,
zany whirlpool blob grasping at ambiguous twill plume,
faraway tangerine canvass might stir tongue-tied raw sketch,
ingenious quest might throb for charmed portrayal,
nought shall thwart this dreamer off-course,
spectral pantoum, geometric quatrain, jewel-crust tanka,
prolific silken sentient suzette an overarch odyssey,
regardless of vernal totem, sumptuous literary harvest,
with its dogged catalytic compass point,
to maunder without curb despite prevailing opus storm,
sculptured outcrop on an apt idyllic text,
once off ephemeral from boundless paragon,
a colour burst vocabulary pending but when?
Through the chambers of silence where lost time stirs,
In the room where once hopes blossomed in a flight towards the horizon,
Now stretches a wasteland that whispers from shadows and profound horrors,
All for your diaphanous light, for your silver rays that shatter.
In the altar of distant youth, where my dreams walked unceasingly,
I've searched throughout for hidden spells in corners of unending, untouched world,
Which spirit of darkness did you penetrate, did you seek with your full, spherical eye?
Emptied of eternity, scratching for the key that pours freedom into the clear sky.
Underneath a cloak of stars, your serene gaze wide open with breadth,
Just a moment in the eternal, when the full moon shows your essence, reveals what is to come.
How could I have suspected, with my unripe mind, with the unknowing mystery in fragile dreams?
A demonic truth, only understood when the light dimmed and evening turned late.
Was I your celestial meridian, the point where destiny diverges,
Where my blood might boil like some heated metal in Vulcan's hearth,
The teeth to become sharp swords, the soul, a wild, wandering beast,
In a world of night, strong and thirsting, a shadow that lays flesh low.
Oh, Moon, your play of fate has woven my heart from shadows and grace,
Enchanting lady of the night, I find your mystic artistry now bitter.
You, now weaving my deep chain of curse, are the saltworks that burns in my dreams,
And I, prisoner of dusk, search for a respite of light, but fall back into evils.
But you, guardian of the night, in your astral dance resembling both fortune and doom,
You watch my descent into the abyss, to see the beauty of the horror you without mercy or spot have staged.
The stranger, myself, transformed by you, a wildness I now carry at my chest like a heavy stone slab,
Whose genesis is repentance, and every heartbeat, an echo of a world that once was.
And yet here I stand, beneath your cascade of cold lights,
Where flesh ends and the spirit outstretches its wings, softly so.
Seeking an escape, amidst memories, amidst ruins, in their darkness,
In your celestial crater I find myself, a sharer of the night, of nights bathed in tremble and thrill.
He was only a sheepdog
But his death has bitten
Into my soul ever since.
As a pup we brought
Him from his home
In Ireland
Where supernumeraries
Are drowned
No small farm needing
More than one mutt.
His reddish brown brother
Had been our first choice
We were left , my father-in-law's choice,
With the black and white collie.
Now his residence would be
A Scottish housing estate
We all grew to love him
I became his alpha male
How his ears would prick up
And he would sit attentively
At the window,
Awaiting my usual time of arrival
With a welcome where,
With tail wagging furiously
His paws would reach up to my chest
As he sought to lick my face
From strength to strength he grew
A tireless walker,chewer of carpets
Chaser of sticks and thief of Sunday roasts
How we all used to smile
When he darted to the opposite end of the room
Whenever my son burst into tears.
This had to be his way
Of saying,"Don't blame me."
He was right at home
Running round the street
With a gaggle of kids
He found his true metier
On returning to the farm
Where he was born
For two days he sat
And watched his brother
Bringing in the cows
And then relieved him
Of his duties
This task he performed
With great gusto
While his brother skulked off
Glad to be relieved
Of his daily chore
He was so much at home
On the farm
Revelling in the freedom,
Enjoying the work
And he was so much bigger
And more energetic than his brother
Tragedy struck
On our return home
Tied to the garage door
To keep him from getting
Under my wife's feet
Meant he could not run away
When a little girl kept blowing
In his face
Self-defence saw him
Nipping her in the neck.
That is what sealed
His death warrant
Gloom settled over our home
That nip might have been fatal
Fatal it was for him
The death sentence was passed
That last long walk
Was our rush to judgment.
We walked slowly
His head hung low
Never had I known
Him so quiet
He entered the killing room
Unflinching and calm
The vet's needle did the deed
Seeing his young body
Stretched lifeless
On that cold dark slab
Has burned my soul
With remorse
Ever since