Long Slits Poems
Long Slits Poems. Below are the most popular long Slits by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Slits poems by poem length and keyword.
"Home isn’t where you are from, it is where
you find light when all grows dark." ~ Pierce Brown
I once lived in a happy home, overflowing with love,
but when I was given cause to leave, it became a house.
I've moved on and so has he. I've found contentment.
In a sanctuary I reside, complacent without a spouse.
I'm not hiding away as a recluse would from the world,
nor do I flounder in an ocean of tears, fearing to drown.
I never complain of being alone, nor am I ever lonely.
My once-upon-a-time home is gone; Camelot fell down.
In my new home, I feel protected from Cupid's arrows.
No longer am I a target for the imp's misguided dart
The last one left a scar that thoughts keep from healing.
Since I've moved, I've stitched the open slits in my heart.
Walls keep intruders out, but I don't live in seclusion.
I have many friends, so don't ever think of me as 'glum.'
My house is a haven where only the invited come inside
I don't hide my heartstrings, but I choose who can strum.
My dwelling is not of brick and mortar, nor cast in stone.
I've not become cold natured, heart hardened as a beast,
but I will never offer myself again upon a banquet table
unless I'm the one who willingly opens my door for a feast.
A house can have a hundred rooms, no locks on its doors,
plush furniture, Persian rugs on the floor, and fine dishes,
but it will never be a happy home to those who live inside
unless it's nurtured with love, not with dreams and wishes.
Steel blue eyes matching hair
concentrating hanging on every word
Wrinkles form around the perimeter
Guarded, buttressed full natural lips
Intently hanging on every word
Kicked by unaware intruder
Mindlessly stumbles over a misplaced foot
focus back to ancients
Partners hair white as untouched snow
at daylight
Oblivious to the world
They chat, express entwine
Lands lending to the intensity
of their conversation
Bent elbow on sunlit sill
show slits of silver of her eyes
locked in on orator slight
response reflective repose …
Animated expressions
move this speech
Steely eyes locked in
rock back now broad smile.
Lunch is over …
I kicked a stone down the road
It hopped and stopped like a toad
I picked it up and examined it
It had some rough edges and little slits
It had a stony vacant, forgotten look
Did it lose it way or roll down from a brook?
It seemed so cool and quiet, unperturbed
I carried it home and held it under a light
The cracks showed up like a crinkled face
Had the wind sculpted it over the years alone?
That night I woke up with a start
I was feeling helpless, stuck, shapeless
and caught out cold in the dark
my eyes were closed and wet,
A stone had left its mark!
11.8.2021
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
Breath grinds stone in the hollow chest,
time loops, cruel clockwork chewing marrow.
Each step refracts an endless cascade,
mirrors eating mirrors, swallowing meaning.
She watches herself dissolve, still walking,
hands trembling over undone buttons.
The walls bend inward, whispering static:
a language faceless, flat, unending.
Memory slits its own throat quietly,
bleeds until the air stinks of void.
Faces blur, cruel smudges framed in frost.
Fingers forget what they’ve once held.
The ceiling fractures, mercury spills night.
Dust coats the tongue, sour scripture of collapse.
Sanity laughs, teeth like shattered porcelain.
She screams and keeps on breathing.
Nothing stops. Nothing starts. Stillness spins.
Somewhere in the debris, she remains
a scream folded inside a name,
a self rusting softly in endless loop.
In every apple, an atom resides;
in every Adam, an apple abides.
So it goes and goes, apples
toppling off tables in rhythmic waves,
falling through slits, convincing themselves
they are particles instead.
Whether in a pie or the depths
of your eye, it remains a life
enlaced with apples.
Even saws wield charmed abilities
to see both down and up, felling
trees born from swallowed seeds
of time, nestled deeply, inside apples.
Apple begets apple, begets knowing,
tasting apples sideways and blindfolded,
shielding your naked red delicious
from no other than yourself—
though some claim it was the figs.
Apples in motion deceive, looking
at you like two when you blink;
it's wise to check the number of shadows
before expressing a sly look or disagreeing
with reality, mattering up the gravity of it all.
Too much energy and not enough ease
for Adams and atoms in a closed system
cloaked in apples, lifting their skin
revealing only what you inquire of them.
The method of questioning determines
the taste of the pith—whether it dances
towards you with the hip of a granny smith
or slides a groove, creating gravy stew.
It depends on you and how you pose
the question to the apple.
Slicing knives are apples too, as are hands
that grip the handle and the cradle
of air, in the up-and-down jitterbugging
of the relentless rhythm of the dropping blade—
all still atoms, as we've covered, which might have been figs.
Keep your wishes unspoken
Let your dreams dissolve in the morning light
Beware of your thoughts
Make sure your words are correct
Feelings of others outweigh your tripe liberties
You can only save the world by being the same
Oneness of life and purity of visions
Mock and hate any individual danger
Shutdown voices with alternate views
Saftey is the warmth of likeness
Comfort is the joy of conformity
All alike and equal in outcome
Beleive is you are taught
Be as you are told
All is planned
For peace
For better
For the common good...
The lost lamb has strayed from the flock
A shepherd returns her to the fold
She tells the other sheep of her freedom
Running free with the wild goats
That shepherd grabs her
And slits her throat
Dresses her carcass for the evening meal
This was the one to kill
Her will was too strong
Never stray from the flock
Never bend from the fold
As I woke up in the night
I felt a whisper plainly light
It won my urgency and might
and left this stricken heart afire.
'Twas then I recalled amongst the ashes
a tragedy of placid acid
my conscience stained in moonlit blood
beyond these thoughts, just slits and gashes
Once more, to still this beating heart
I tried to nod and play my part
But it seemed my role was far ambitious
my guilt led me to emptier dark
In emptiness I started praying
believing He would be forthswaying,
maybe, even turn these drapings
into sympathy delaying
It seems the source of my DUE misery
was of a transformation of my making
the downfall plotted against my taking
the brother a thorn of mayhem
I grinded his bones and shod my feet
until next lifetime I'll retreat
Until next night-time I'll believe
the lies I fed my soul to sleep
I heard the whisper, ever certain
A gentle tap, a jilted stirring
Except I now know the referral
that taunts and spoils my peace, eternal
It felt so real, a blattant lie,
Those swirling colours that painted my mind,
of fictional characters beyond this light,
just dreams illusions and deep rewinds.
And as the night faded away
So to the whispers dared play.
Into the silence, I stared ablaze
Afraid next nighttime's slumber scare.
Breath grinds stone in the hollow chest,
time loops, cruel clockwork chewing marrow.
Each step refracts an endless cascade,
mirrors eating mirrors, swallowing meaning.
She watches herself dissolve, still walking,
hands trembling over undone buttons.
The walls bend inward, whispering static:
a language faceless, flat, unending.
"Echo without collapse"
Memory slits its own throat quietly,
bleeds until the air stinks of void.
Faces blur, cruel smudges framed in frost.
Fingers forget what they’ve once held.
"Echo without collapse"
The ceiling fractures, mercury spills night.
Dust coats the tongue, sour scripture of collapse.
Sanity laughs, teeth like shattered porcelain.
She screams and keeps on breathing.
Nothing stops. Nothing starts. Stillness spins.
Somewhere in the debris, she remains
a scream folded inside a name,
a self rusting softly in endless loop.
"Echo without collapse"
Sleep, my small beloved pet.
With small beast paws tucked underneath your small beast chest,
slumber on, sweet cat, with nothing to arrest your little nap.
So are you telepathic now?
Your sweet beast eyes are opened wide to peer as I lean near
to study your eyes flecked gold with oval slits.
I wonder how you see me.
Am I grey or brown or am I some strange shadowy form?
Or in this well-lit room,
am I as vivid to you as the hue in which I'm viewing you?
Here with me, you have no fear,
but when you dream, perhaps
you wander ancient plains of Egypt or of Africa,
and catching sight of me inside your dream,
you flee to go prowling through ghostly reeds
where the howls of predators - jackals, coyotes and wolves -
echo in the still of night. Then do you creep into a secret place
to awake in the morning to an orb of sun and go running with companions, tumbling in the grass as you play?
Late in the arid heat of afternoon,
do you lay your beastly head on paws,
and dozing the remainder of the day, dream of a distant space
which is very small and where a strange species looms?
And where among that tall species is one who meets your needs
by bringing you food and who grooms your coat and keeps you safe,
who sleeps curled up beside you on her bed,
and who sometimes - curiously -
watches you as you lie sleeping.
From 2017 Now used for Lu Loo's Love Is the Answer poetry Contest
Ocean waves woke me from my temporary state
I opened my eyes to a sky full of twinkling rhinestones
there was a peace here that permeated my soul
not yet, my internal voice whispered, but soon….
I was now in a tree, in the Amazon jungle.
I could hear all kinds of bird sounds.
A black shadow was sitting in the next tree, staring.
his eyes were slits, but I saw he was a puma.
There was no fear, only curiosity.
I felt I could converse with him, and him with me.
Or was she a she?
Before I figured it out my alarm rang.
My soul slammed back into my body
I heard a loud gasp
It was me.
Astral travel? My husband guessed.
Good guesser
Written 11-29-2022
Contest Journey Without Movement
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker