Long Slammed Poems
Long Slammed Poems. Below are the most popular long Slammed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Slammed poems by poem length and keyword.
When under the gun how can one
not be outdone by nepotism
or overcome by favouritism
altho' the norm they're no more
than a form of terrorism
a nebulous opponent none can fight
on the human landscape
naught but a blight
from which we can't escape or run
any self-respecting someone would shun
and as for me you see
I was obviously yet definitely
born in the wrong place
at the wrong time with the wrong face
seeing promotion from outside in the cold
not a foot could I put over the threshold
what with doors slammed progress jammed
out of my depth in over my head
can't get a look-in may as well be dead
Lightning split the dark in stepped leaders, blinding veins,
and the thunder didn't just boom - it hit,
a physical strike against the chest,
louder than anything the sky had ever produced before.
The clouds blew open,
dumping a wall of rain so dense and relentless
that looking out the window,
five feet away was just a blur of white noise.
Hard, heavy hail began to hammer the roof,
and the gales shifted,
gathering into a massive microburst
that slammed straight down from the clouds like a falling weight.
The house shuddered to its foundation.
Picture frames shook loose from the drywall, clattering down,
while in the kitchen, the counters vibrated violently.
Drinking glasses hummed and slid across the smooth granite,
chattering against one another
until one lost its footing,
plunging to the floor and exploding
into a thousand glittering shards across the tile.
And then, without warning, the storm held its breath.
A stillness settled over the room—
a quiet so sudden and heavy it felt like the eye of a hurricane,
tricking the heart into thinking the worst had passed.
But it was only a breath before the tail of the tempest struck,
returning with the raw, unbridled rage of an EF4 tornado,
tearing at the eaves and screaming through the dark.
For hours, I stayed crouched in that darkness, trembling,
fearing the walls might give, fearing for my life.
I prayed—not with rehearsed words,
but with a raw, desperate sincerity,
asking for the sky to spare us,
for the storm to pass without leaving ruin
or taking what mattered most.
Slowly, the violent pulse of the wind began to soften.
The madness that had overtaken the sky drifted away as fast as it had arrived,
leaving behind a vast, unmoving stillness.
The house stopped shaking, my chest unknotted,
and in that total, sacred silence,
I closed eyes and offered up a quiet prayer of thanks.
TWO-FIFTEEN
The chiming clock announces two-fifteen.
Three tortured hours I’ve played it in my head,
Recalling every moment of the scene,
Remembering the bitter words we said.
‘Til, at the end you said you needed air
And slammed the door and ran into the night.
While, stubbornly, I thought I didn’t care;
You’d soon come back conceding I was right.
It’s rained since twelve and you’ve been gone too long.
You’ll catch your death and I’m the one to blame.
I need you here to tell you I was wrong.
I need to hear you whispering my name.
At last, you’re there, rain mingling with tears,
Safe in my arms: I kiss away your fears
25th November 2018
~POINT THE FINGER AT YOUR CHEST~
What have you done lately,
For your community?
Have you gone out and helped the poor?
Or are you, just a selfish, vain boor?
You want a change in your nation?
It's up to you to make a difference, not be
simply, "a mouth sensation!"
We should rally great citizen troops.
I am tried of blaming political nincompoops.
Don't worry, I do write poems about leaders, many!
But who responds to political spoofs?
Very, rare courageous few, if any.
We all, our arses we want cowardly covered.
So political poets, like me, get on a hit
list and are smothered!
But I don't care, but don't you see?
When you smother me, you smother thee?
So phenomenal is this inane drive to be popular here.
All poetical love, like useless junk in a car, slammed into
the rear!
9/7/2021
We never even spoke after your abuse left me weak.
Then suddenly, you called my name as if you desperately needed to speak.
I didn't answer, but I'm curious to know why you're calling my name,
because my body still feels the pain in my heart that you shattered when the glass broke my name!
To the point of being spread across the floor where my face would be when you placed your shoe upon my teeth.
With your intimidation of rage and me begging you to stop because I couldn't take any more.
So I ask again, why are you calling my name?
Is it because of the door that you slammed me into when you hit my body to the point of being broken, at two in the morning after you'd been drinking and smoking?
As I lay there trying to interpret the situation of being falsely accused for your miscues of sad failures, with little motivation, while I'm being abused.
Now I'm like a worthless failure of a woman with no value from being used.
So that's right, don't feel sorry for me; I'm content with what I've been through and who I choose to be.
You see, the younger me told the older me to wake up and be better for the world to see.
So I went out and self-trained my mind
to be stronger than anything that is not worth my time.
And I pledge to God that if He takes away this problem that's left me broken,
I won't put anyone back together again
because the price you will pay to fix it will continue to leave you with tears and silent words unspoken.
So, I lift my head up out of the womb of rebirth to be reborn with the idea that happiness will bloom me into the person who was lost and is now found in the rehabilitation of faith.
An ancient, desiccated
pharaoh awakened within
the subterranean labyrinth
of his limestone sepulcher,
Tattered, resin- soaked
bandages unfurled like
skeletal fingers from his
withered, emaciated frame.
A hollow, sarcophagus- born
shriek echoed through the
claustrophobic, dust- choked
corridors of the tomb.
Intruders trembled as the
reanimated monarch
exhaled a foul, millennial
breath of decay.
The curse of the scarab-
engraved scarification
manifested, binding the
tomb- raiders in paralyzed
terror.
His empty, shadowed
sockets burned with a
malevolent, incandescent
hunger for vengeance.
Grizzled, mummified hands
reached out to drag the
trespassers into the stygian
darkness.
The heavy stone sarcophagus
lid slammed shut, sealing their
horrific, suffocating fate.
Now, fresh blood seeped
through the ancient linen,
feeding the eternal, undead
king.
The labyrinth reclaimed its
silence, guarding the pharaoh's
newly fortified, immortal slumber.
I wanted to hangout,
to be with the cool kids!
There standing together,
leaning against brick walls.
Holding their cigarettes,
rotating the filter between thumb and fore finger.
Putting Export A's up to their mouths for an extended drag.
The smoke seemed to surround them in a cloud of respect.
That was the time before their fingers had become yellowed,
before their teeth had lost that Colgate brightness.
They, in that moment were at the peak of their perfection,
oblivious that sometimes, tomorrow can be a cruel joke.
"What are you looking at?"
I looked down at my suddenly fascinating shoes,
watched my shoes move me in a different direction.
Their laughter stuck to me like a piece of discarded bubblegum.
So I kept walking, until I found a different self.
Determined, I carved out my own itsy bit of coolness.
A certain walk,
a bit of aloofness.
Not trying so hard to be liked.
Me the mysterious stranger,
dark clothes,
an aura of dangerous!
I tried it out for a while,
It somehow seemed to work.
"Lamoureux, you want a cigarette?"
"Na I ain't into that Sh_t!"
I walked away holding my head high,
"whatever dude.."
Somehow saying no added to my rep,
a certain kinda bizarre respect!
Army boots, metal cleats clicking as I sauntered away.
Then I went home
Changed back into familiar clothes,
dressed like myself head to toes.
Just a bit outside of normal I chose.
Said goodbye to my make believe, didn't need it anymore.
Just walked past it and slammed that door!
I had known cool for just a bit, it never truly did fit.
That dark bleeding persona wasn't me,
I needed my inner awkward to be let free,
but without being afraid of what others would see.
Friendly is how I was meant to be,
so I started climbing high up in my own tree
Fully myself, not some fake man of mystery.
Adios cool self, you're ancient History!
Death met at work, a months' long livestock voyage
Appalling fate found forty men in ocean's contempt
Churned in days' worth of typhoon crazed torment
Upside down violence turned trapped crew to carnage
Water walled onslaught slammed seafaring stronghold
Cattle float stark on dark ocean, hooves raised, bloated
Vets embarked the journey, to bovine well-being devoted
Vessel of mass measures, by sea vehemence controlled
Taken from life during a shift, loyal young strong sailors
Skilled handlers, pined for infant families, scared at home
Mammoth stern dug beneath unending depth, groaned
Instruments steady didn't warn of ceilings spray showers
Tenacity kept crew clutching straws in relentless storm
Hull refused her duty, rising cold belly swamped within
Dutiful men tended soiled stock, their outlook grim
Windows disguised skywards, horizon stolen in scorn
Deck gave only feasible exit point, though death due either way
Going under or leaping off, bodies driven on stiff vein adrenalin
Forty faithful crew, prisoners in their workplace, remember them
Ninety children learn that dire time leaves their lives in disarray
7th September 2020
As I lay in bed at night, I think of the things in my life,
The places I wish I was,
The persons arms I wish to be held in.
My mind is restless and my body has turned cold, my eyes are glazed with the dreams I
wanted to live,
My vision of life has been blurred, illusions of a door opened to love slammed in my face,
Bitter yet sweet tears roll down my battered cheek, an empty minded fool lays awake
waiting for peace.
Standing on a sheet of ice, laying on a bed of nails, I’m wrapped In flesh, have broken bones.
A discarded soul of an undead child,
My eyes turn to a haze of blood red.
My skin a funny blue,
My dreams were severed by the wings,
That’s why I never flew.
Form:
foot in a blender
skin sliced thin, jagged
bicycle spokes spinning
how i learned to wear shoes
dad’s rottweiler-yelling
as mom assesses
claustrophobic on commode
dinner would get cold
cut into throat, nose, neck, spine*
red beets**
heel to toes ice cold
perched and prepared
by ER doc;
airtight in butcher wrap
dinner reheat —
words caught in my throat
tears freshen glass
i gulp
t’morrow’s door
slams on my son’s thumb
it hangs like a loose nail
hanging out on the commode
i scream
the children’s father assesses
my son’s sister slammed the door
...on the verge,
pindrop suspense
i warn my husband
not to blame
not to shame
i carry wisdom in my pocket
words to do no harm
carry the son, unhinged with tears
swaddle his sister with blanket
am i better than my parents?
i just have a leg up;
this time
my feet lead me, by example
10/28/2020
*reflexology reference
**embarassment