Long Smoldered Poems
Long Smoldered Poems. Below are the most popular long Smoldered by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Smoldered poems by poem length and keyword.
Forgotten Wife
WHY?
I’ve asked the question,
A thousand times or more,
What more could I have done?
As I really didn’t understand
What changed?
What had changed this man?
That man I first married.
Ever a handsome fella
Dressed in khaki clothe,
Fresh faced,
Gentle, caring,
Considerate loving husband,
Before going off
To that stinken foreign Asian war,
Off to an unknown uncertainty.
But the return of my warrior
With loving arms a beckoning,
For him
Discharged and released
Into this brand new horizon,
Subtle changes first unnoticed
In having my man returned
Expecting a life of wedded bliss
And endless joy of peace.
However I the wife
Began to have this battle
Of fighting an unknown war
Where bouts of anger,
Sulkiness,
Depression,
Suspicions easily aroused,
Periods of unexplained darkness
Of something bottled within
Easily the order of the day.
His children who knew naught
Of happenings abound,
From a father who found
Everyday faults so many
Drove a wedge
Between parenthood
And the siblings of his groin
Forcing them out into a world
Of the unexpected
Out there
Into an misunderstanding world of unknown.
As loyal wife of long ago,
Taken vows “till death us do part”
Now a suffer in total silence,
Tormented by the grief
Sometimes in disbelief,
This deep seated anger,
Which smoldered
Like an un-erupted overdue volcano
Deep inside the belly,
Every day became like torture
In trying to understand
What really changed my man?
As I now do sit
On this carpet
Of lush green grass,
A lonely tear rolls down
Head bowed
In deep respect,
For me now a reality,
He has left the place
Truly gone forever,
Off to his lastingly resting place
And for this old soldier boy
‘Tis for him a much better rest
Than all the confusion of his mind.
I gaze!
I fix my eyes on bronze plaque,
His name,
Rank and serial number inscribed
An azalea grows in a terracotta pot
Marking the spot
Where they lowered the casket
Three days after that fateful day,
The day they buried my man.
I being the widow,
The mother,
And once his wife
Must now have inner strength,
“O God I wish I had more,
But why Lord oh why!
When he returned,
I still ask the question
What did change?
My lover,
My husband,
My man!
Forgotten Wife -
WHY?
I’ve asked the question,
A thousand times or more,
What more could I have done?
As I really didn’t understand
What changed?
What had changed this man?
That man I first married.
Ever a handsome fella
Dressed in khaki clothe,
Fresh-faced,
Gentle, caring,
Considerate loving husband,
Before going off
To that stinken foreign war,
Off to an unknown uncertainty.
But the return of my warrior
With loving arms a beckoning,
For him
Discharged and released
Into this brand new horizon,
Subtle changes first unnoticed
In having my man returned
Expecting a life of wedded bliss
And endless joy of peace.
However I the wife
Began to have this battle
Of fighting an unknown war
Where bouts of anger,
Sulkiness,
Depression,
Suspicions easily aroused,
Periods of unexplained darkness
Of something bottled within
Easily the order of the day.
His children who knew naught
Of happenings abound,
From a father who found
Everyday faults so many
Drove a wedge
Between parenthood
And the siblings of his groin
Forcing them out into a world
Of the unexpected
Out there
Into a misunderstanding world of unknown.
As loyal wife of long ago,
Taken vows “till death us do part”
Now a suffer in total silence,
Tormented by the grief
Sometimes in disbelief,
This deep-seated anger,
Which smoldered
Like an un-erupted overdue volcano
Deep inside the belly,
Every day became like torture
In trying to understand
What really changed my man?
As I now do sit
On this carpet
Of lush green grass,
A lonely tear rolls down
Head bowed
In deep respect,
For me now a reality,
He has left the place
Truly gone forever,
Off to his lastingly resting place
And for this old soldier boy
‘Tis for him a much better rest
Than all the confusion of his mind.
I gaze!
I fix my eyes on his bronze plaque
His name,
Rank and serial number inscribed
An azalea grows in a terracotta pot
Marking the spot
Where they lowered the casket
Three days after that fateful day,
The day they buried my man.
I being the widow,
The mother,
And once his wife
Must now have inner strength,
“O God I wish I had more,
But why Lord oh why!
When he returned,
I still ask the question
What did change?
My lover,
My husband,
My man!
Acid reflux ~ 7:00 post meridiem September 24th, 2019
Ah... nothing more enjoyable than acidic gastric fluid flowing backward into esophagus, resulting in heartburn, disrupting pleasant dreams, nor unsure how successful literary endeavor crafting poem regarding aforementioned will yield.
While deeply asleep
during late afternoon siesta
above name named date/time,
yours truly immediately awoke
with a start, at strong violent
urge to upheap
I made little or no bowed peep,
but sat bolt upright stock still
tear ducts activated eyes
as if ready to weep.
Sadness less pervasive than fright
since reverse peristalsis uncommon
within body electric regarding plight,
which analogous volcanic eruption
albeit bubbling magmatic flow slight
reverse peristalsis found yours truly
on par with fire breathing dragon ar
goo ably momentarily nonplussed -
while dry cough minus gushing lava
gratefully only smoldered before sim
ring upper gastrointestinal tract did
allow, enable, and provide mouths
full of distilled water quench sudden
unquenchable thirst relieved result
ant unpleasant aftertaste (no pun
intended), yet distilling humor helps
me weather, manage, cope... with
unexpected physiological fee nom
mina - shot straight up within digest
heave tract, and did lament this rick
hitty packet of muscle and bone aft
times susceptible to disheartening
woebegone news afflicting this non
Norwegian bachelor farmer, whom
if the missus cooking triggered bout
unleashing bit torrent of unsavory
plate tectonics, perhaps indicative
of continental drift shrunk down to
miniature, where fault in thee stars
must be held in contempt of court
if for no other reason, I just wanted
to incorporate said phrase, tip here
me got some legal lear'n, when truth
Philly admits he seems to know less,
the he learns, which prompts me to
posit emphatically that ignorance iz
equivalent to bliss, thus presenting
quandary how kin this pronouncedly
reasonably intelligent garden variety
*****sapiens unfetter himself with
cumulative knowledge without reek
horse to invasive surgery such as...
prefrontal lobotomy, or te deum down
smarts some unknown cyber surfer(s)
could easily misconstrue as vainness,
smugness, quintessential pomposity?
Hot In Havana.
.
It was a sweltering hot sticky Havana summers
Velvet star-studded night
I was sat enjoying the scene
In a dance bar
As someone played the piano accordion
And guitar
.
Suddenly I was aware of a shapely silhouette
Stood at the door and I was transfixed by what I’d seen
And slowly she sauntered in swaying her hips
As sultry as a feline in her tight figure-hugging backless dress
Figure of a dream the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen
With a red rose tucked in to her glossy raven hair
With eyes that smoldered and could light up the night
And smooth tanned skin and pouting sensual ruby lips
Long legs in fishnet tights
.
Out to thrill and out to kill
All eyes were on the unknown stranger
As she stood poised at the bar
The room filled the ceiling fans spun
As men smoked their Cuban cigars
.
As the room got fuller the heat got hotter
And couples took to the floor
Suddenly out of nowhere
The was stood in front of me
I had seen stood at the door
.
Without a word she grabbed my hand
And led me to the dance floor
My heart was beating so fast
And I was sweating from every pore
Her scent was heavenly and heady
As we swayed and spun around
To the bands delightful sound
Her eyes beckoned me as a siren
To come even closer and hold her tight
Her lips were full sumptuous and pouting
The butterflies inside me were fluttering
And I was melting with euphoric delight
Like a moth to a deadly flame our lips
Almost met then she pulled away
She was just a tease and we could only play her way
Even though I was on fire
Both drenched in sweat
She let me kiss her bare shoulders and long neck
I could taste her perfume
As we swayed across the room
Other men tried to flirt with her
But she only had eyes for me
And I was drowning in ecstasy
.
We were both getting thirsty
So I weaved through the dancing couples
And headed for the bar
Through the haze of smoke from the cigars
When I came back cocktails in hand
She had gone and left the red flower
And a note saying
Thank you love Edwardo
She wasn’t a she
But a man.
.
Peter Dome©©2020.
I think friendship breakups are so weird—
From belly laughs and soul-deep chats, moonlit strolls and silly spats,
Yet another slip and the thread of camaraderie is severed,
casting shadows upon the remnants of what once thrived.
You think I do not care,
when, evermore, I was the first to be there,
not for laurels, nor reconciliation sought,
but for the girl whom I most adored.
The love of our ways lingers in the air,
a timeless bond whispers through our songs.
Tears gather like silent raindrops,
reflecting the unspoken sorrows of my heartstrings,
which begin to strum with the memories of our everlasting love.
You say I have everything,
You say I stole what was once yours,
But here I am, hiding behind closed doors.
I’m trying to escape the echoes of you,
but whispers pull me back into the same pain.
I can't breathe; I'm gasping for air,
anticipating betrayal, like poison in the air.
The knife never left my back—it remains,
turning my world to darkness, drowning in pain.
I’m blinded by everyone else's emotions,
suppressing my pain to aid your wounds,
emptying myself in the process.
I gave you everything, only to be left in freefall.
I didn’t think our friendship was ending,
but the sharp pieces keep us from mending.
You cannot see from my point of view,
so as you sit there with the image that I do not care,
I will sit here, glad I made it out.
Overanalyzing every angle,
the nights when confusion consumed me,
wondering how I kept sparking the flames of fury
that smoldered deep within your soul.
I know it wasn’t my fault,
I know you were still learning,
but you crossed the lines we once drew,
turning our bond into something untrue.
Our friendship didn’t implode over a single drunken night;
it unraveled because I ran out of the will to fight.
The once-blazing flame of camaraderie has now dimmed,
but even though we sailed off course,
navigating this storm of life together—
however briefly—
remains, without question, my favorite chapter.
an ugly gray rock, so I kicked it along
amused by my memories, humming a song
it was jagged and rough - I gave it no mind
and punted it thrice, then left it behind …
I changed up my hum and walked on alone
not thinking it special, (it WAS just a stone)
yet the farther I got from where it had been
the more I considered that "plain" rock
again
something about its proportions or form
contrasted just slightly, was not quite the
norm
the way that it tumbled, or lay there, just SO
or maybe the way it had bounced off my
toe
whatever it was, I could not quite discern
but decided right then, it was worth a
return
so, I spun myself 'round, headed back to
that spot
still not sure of WHY - just a feeling I got
but when I returned, it had broken in two -
an incredible OPAL flamed red, green and
blue!
scant had I known just what "ugly" could
hold -
all the prismatic colors that smoldered,
untold!
well …
I couldn't help think that a lesson was there
of the plain folks we see, that we pass,
unaware
for they are more precious than any gray
stone
with such wonders inside - yet we leave
them alone
perhaps if we gave them a wink or a grin
we might find the bright of their beauty
WITHIN
the colors that light their charisma and
grace
the complexion of charms that don’t show
on a face
the places they’ve been or the roads they
have run
their moonlight romances and days in the
sun
the wealth of their spirit, their talents and
rage
they’ve a story to tell, if we’d just turn the
page
so, I keep in my pocket, a piece of that rock
to help me recall what I learned on that walk
not to take "plain" for granted, or push folks
aside
but instead, look for sparks of their fires …
deep INSIDE.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Overlooked Beauty" Poetry Contest, Jesse Rowe, Judge & Sponsor.
Don’t mind your habits, but they’ve made your mind.
Round the next corner, things will get better.
Until that one fell day when you do find
The credit’s come due and you’re the debtor.
You’ve hidden yourself away out of fear
With sea-green moat, tower, thick sandy walls.
Predators finally could not come near
But no one else can come knocking at all.
Pick yourself apart thoroughly, the pain
Is less than if they figure it out first
Sisyphean task for your fevered brain
A foul practice, but better than what’s worse.
The lonely stone walls, old bones in the keep,
Dragons in the moat, free from invasion.
A lofty view of the bustling street
Looking out from the high crenellations.
At dark shadows you jump, the things you fear
All may have once contributed to it.
But all these things become irrelevant
When you find out that the fuse has been lit.
What smoldered for ages has now caught flame
Under countless, caked layers of plaster
No longer doubtful luxury of blame
To avoid an explosive disaster.
From numbness has hardened the deepest ache.
Seems the one in the keep is missing, too.
Unaware, the demon your soul did take.
The cold, eroding bones are inside you.
Ash grey fuse angrily throws orange sparks,
The why of it no longer relevant
The pain no longer to slumber in dark.
Pinch it, douse it, the fuse will not relent.
Deeply, you know this can’t go forever.
It will put an end to you, and quite soon.
Search your mind, desperate for the lever,
Disarm the bomb or get blown to the moon.
Loved ones wouldn’t begrudge your departure
If they could feel the burgeoning horror.
Or so you think, blinded by the torture
What they see, somehow not in the mirror.
Bet your quickly ticking life it’s too much
When you are the bomb, so hard to diffuse
Leave the Keep's safety, risk the human touch
This lonely fight you do not have to lose.
3/20/16
This shell crumbled and fell when hearing the words you said sent me strait to hell.
Blackinening depths weep in night not to ballistic to fight for what it is by right.
Despair and creeping wounds come in unfairly.
Dare they do the damage I cannot bare?
So please spare me from not who would care.
This hole in my shattered battered heart has brought tol into this sensitive innocent sole.
To sore higher to the core of all-extreme would be dropping knees to the cold hard floor.
His hands can wrap around my neck in a trap as air may clog my throat and drowned without a whimpering peep of a sound.
Tantalizing words cause harm like the bleeding gash flooding in my arm.
This knife cuts into spaces so deep like the life I keep smoldered in blood traces smeared on the walls trapped in the shovel cases.
As my heart deprives, it ends the lies of all lives with the endless goodbyes.
Tears fall on the lovely fire rose as it grows prosper flames,
But only love it tames.
Take the spear of death to place in my heart and embrace all that has been torn in death apart.
From the start to end no part can mend as I search places to defend and faces to descend.
I place my hand upon the never touched and watched as it turned to sand,
But the sand burned as I still yearned.
Show the way from deaths dependence day as the others pay just like the dagger will slay.
Love so free in unpredictable moments dangerously as you cast upon me.
See the blood and feel the flood as real as it is when it will seal.
Lifeless whispering flesh turning into dripping catering mesh lose what was already lost.
What is the final cost?
When facing the winds of the red sea remember the pacing remembrance that set me free,
But sealed him ever to be by death decreed.
Form:
ASHES TO ASHES
If all of me sums up a to a pile of smoldered ash...
Then all of me could fit into a glass;
If that's all I amount to on this earth,
I pray my soul finds everlasting worth.
Who Jah bless let no man curse?
Ashes to ashes – dust to dust.
Afraid of the fiery lake, will God open up the gate?
Pray, I did not wait up too late.
to say forgive what I've done wrong.
…I can tell when the Almighty has my back.
I can tell when he intervenes …
Like today when I called the bank.
And no one ever called me back.
The statement stated, an overdraft.
Yet South Africa had a cyclone draft…
Media said 150 people died.
My friend Ann said…” that’s a lie”
More like 10000's lost their lives.
Frantically I called back the bank again,
To ask about the overdraft they sent.
Worried I had overspent;
To my surprise, they said: “there’s none”.
I said why did you send this notice? She said:
“the day it was sent money came in”
I said. “oh my God”: “You are still my friend”.
I asked no more questions I just said a prayer…
About God sending me money out of nowhere.
Trying hard to keep my nose clean… while here
I want to amount to more than just dust.
On this wretched earth
I don’t want to slack before I die,
Don’t want to be cast into the eternal fire…
Don’t want to worry about my spiritual deficit.
Paying my dues, while I am on earth…
I pray my soul finds favor in the afterlife where it counts-
More than mere dust do I want to amount…
As I sing my eternal dirge…
Continue to shine your light on my feet, I urge.
If all of me sums up a to a pile of smoldered ash...
Then all of me could fit into a glass;
If that's all I amount to on this earth
I pray my soul finds everlasting worth.
I scorn thee, Puberty! Damn thee as well,
Thou abominable herder of shame,
Will thou findeth glee by my told sarspell?
I beseech thee of ineffable name,
Rendereth thineself as quiet slain game,
For thine cruel ends be reached, let thine eyes droop,
Immortal Rite, meeteth Poetry Soup.
Forsaken specs findeth young Phillip (me),
He the first noble son born of Sir Mike,
That betrothed Diane, mother of he (me);
Neareth NASA lived they by Houston’s dike,
We plus two girl offsprings I still dislike;
Turneth back time to nineteen ninety five,
Thus now the setting as ocean, we dive.
I of ten years then plus three more years aged,
By mine mom’s woven hand rags yet adorned,
Draperies bindething spirits encaged,
Mine lot too ignorant still ‘be forlorned,
For two years would pass ‘fore Nike I yearned;
Looken now friends, at thine narrator’s dress,
Mine costumes for school were each mismatched mess.
And hath we not yet speaketh mine afro?
Then let us for humor’s saketh too laughs
For atop mine snow pale flesh did it grow!
It was beneath that nest mine brain did graphs
On one Tuesday morn; during sixth grade math,
Unbeknownst of a sneaking wretched pest:
That ineffably named prepubescent guest.
Still in present times remember I can’t,
What the hell kindled mine loins ablaze,
Yet fiery flames of embarrassment
Secretly smoldered through my brainy haze;
When mine teacher upon me called that I raise,
And thus stirred the scene I’ve oft reflected,
The moment I’ve chosen for my most embarrassing?
When in 6th grade math class I stood up…
…fully erected