Long Smoulder Poems
Long Smoulder Poems. Below are the most popular long Smoulder by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Smoulder poems by poem length and keyword.
What happened?
I bolt awake, the heat of the fire
Still burning in my brain.
Oh, it was just a dream.
Or was it? I look at my skin,
Realize it’s black and bloody all at once
Cracked, peeling.
I sniff,
The whisper of smoke still in my nose,
My hair.
A tear rolls down my pitted cheek
As I remember, like I always do,
After I wake up.
Reliving that night.
The last thing I remember,
I was
Home, entwined in your arms
(your fingers were entwined, too, in the hair I’m stroking now).
The heat between our bodies
So strong, that I pushed you away;
I regret it now.
(I just wanted a little space.)
Because the heat then became suffocating, consuming,
As you rolled over and said
this wasn’t the same anymore.
I couldn’t breathe.
Soon, I was sweating,
100 degrees and climbing,
as you got up and packed your things
then left the room.
The slam of the front door
Was the catalyst.
My heart was the match,
And I the fuel....
I exploded from the inside out-
The flame ripped me open,
My skin started to blacken and smoulder.
Stop drop and roll?
They never taught us what to do
In a human inferno.
In desperation, I laid there on the bed
You and I shared
My tears nothing
but puffs of smoke
as they fell uselessly upon my skin.
The tears I’m crying now
In the hospital bed
Remembering
Are no more productive...
But my dear friend sitting next to me
Who pulled me out of the flames
Is there to dry them
And to console me
Telling me I still look beautiful
the wounds will heal
And that you aren’t worth them anyway.
I now know what I have to do
once I can leave this place.
Months later,
My burns have closed, now only scars remain.
I walk up the street to the house you and I once shared,
Now only a pile of rubble.
Picking my way through the charred remains of our bedroom,
A curtain scrap there, a chunk of headboard there,
A stray blackened sock,
I stop, and kneel down in the ashes.
I begin to sift through the ashes, the memories, with my finger,
Both erasing the past,
And bringing it to life all at once,
Until I have found it.
A blade of grass.
One.
Standing tall, strong,
And unapologetically green.
In the middle of the ashes,
With the ruins of our life together all around me,
I delicately clean the area around the blade of grass
with my finger, and
I smile.
The virile Knight gives evil eye to all
And champion to all who missed the call,
A long forgotten conflict ripped our soul
The virile Knight defends the final toll.
(In a hole
Where the bones
Of the bold
Smoulder cold)
A wisp of whimsy light ignites the breeze,
As fox-fire floats a grove of willow trees;
A devious diversion brief with peace
But conflicts of convergence will not cease.
(It has been said:
War is only over
For the dead and the dead
And the dead, dead, soldier)
Give glory to the glory of the dead,
In sacrificial life are heroes bred;
They find their strength above the maudlin din -
Aware of who they are by where they've been.
(Life can be confusing
For a Vet who lives it boozing
'Cause booze will lose its kick
And leave a troubled Vet quite sick)
Your faith in friends and God has disappeared
Still buried deep in jungle heat as feared;
And dreams of truth once dreamed in youth were vain -
Too vain a brain can make a brain insane.
(All young and strong
In Vietnam -
Till dead from the blood
that they bled
From worms deep inside
they were fed)
Your wife and children gone so long ago,
Her claim to fame became but shame's dull glow;
Her main cognitions slipped and stripped all gears -
Aladdin on a carpet-ride in tears.
(Full blown crazy
Was your Daisy
Quite the shady
Little lady)
Now sunshine splitter's split the light of dawn
To blind and euthanize the spermless pawn;
Our Knight complains about the awful strain,
The pawn is gone too long and dies inane.
(We pay each day
For check-mate fears
And turn away
From all the tears
That fall like rain
From children's pain)
The dead now share your bed inside your room
And you assume their AWOL from the tomb -
But truth confides they hide inside your bones
And soon you hear their rising manic tones.
(They died as we cried
And they think that we lied
That is why they now ride
On our bones deep inside:
"Alive! Alive! Alive!
Our souls in you do thrive")
The ghosts of comrades past do crowd my bed;
I retch from stench of fetid flesh long dead.
But dead now in my bed are heroes all:
Dead heroes in my bed who met the call.
(The casualties of war
When war be but a lie
Will wander evermore
For they will never die.)
7/20/19
"I'll be your Joker"
Still a registered voter
Signed up to be an organ donor
And finally became a car owner
I rarely use a controller
When it's time, I'll man up and buy a stroller
As well as panels that are solar
Near and far from areas that are polar
Doesn't matter if I ever get a Range Rover
Or Roadster
I'm barely ever sober
Always been a loner
And stoner
3 months away from another October
If you want to be my Harley Quinn, I'll be your "Joker"
Not no poser
Where are you Scully? This is agent Mulder
Anytime you want, I'll be your shoulder
To lean on
From here to way beyond
For eons
Where's my Marge? I am Homer
I'll be your rock over and over
Since I've gotten nobler
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder
I've seen it so much, I could compile a folder
Life's one giant rollercoaster
It's really revving my motor
All these women giving me a b***r
And then the cold shoulder
As if I am an ogre
I remain a soldier
Drinking high end coffee, no more Folgers
Getting wiser and older
Becoming bolder
As the world gets colder
I'm not feeling dolor
Just multi tasking, while a fire continues to smoulder
Maintaining my composure
Finding closure
Getting closer
To greatness instead of being mediocre
I enjoyed the work I did with several growers
As well as trapping some gophers
Occasionally I'll partake in poker
Even though I'm not the best hoaxer
Once or twice I used a fire stoker
When it came to Mary Jane, I was a doter
A fan of it's fragrance, it's not what I'd call an odor
I consume some products made by Clover
And am usually in places considered remoter
It's time I get a toaster and holster
I don't really need a Flame Thrower
Or to get my face on a most wanted poster
Suit yourself if you want to wear a boater
Or choker
Houses in continual foreclosure
Not always wise to go for the price that is lower
Someday my mind and body will be slower
And one day it'll all be over
10-4 over and out
And now you know, what i'm really about
Not just by word of mouth
As they say don't look a gift horse in the mouth
Regardless of if you had your doubts
By: Dalton Ogletree
My world burns,
Its cities, towns and villages,
Plains, valleys and hills,
And the tops of mountains,
Smoke and smoulder.
No one knows whether he will return safe,
When he leaves his abode.
The mosques, the temples and the churches:
The sacred places of prayers are no more secure.
Whom we obey and whom we represent?
We have confounded the affairs,
The eyes are blurred with the mist of rashness,
We act but with the muffled hearts,
Baffled minds and hazy eyes.
Assuming we are right, others are wrong,
We have bunged to the humanity
The windows of our hearts,
And plugged the porches of ears.
We are moving farther and farther,
From one another, the gaps are widening,
Among hearts and among minds.
Ah! The distances are becoming immense.
We have launched a vain expedition
Against terrorism, but with out defining the term,
Its limits and boundaries,
Only to kill them whose noses we like not.
If one smashes my house,
Obliterating all the members of my family,
And I have no door to knock at for justice;
What should I do?
Why should not I make a bomb of myself?
Why should not I fasten
Explosives to contest the violent hands?
And this is being done in the world.
Though street, roads and parks are splattered with blood,
Human shreds are seen scattered,
And spectacles are too horrible to see,
Yet there is no terrorism.
All that we see is a reaction of our ferocious deeds,
In case we intend to impede the reaction,
We must stop the action.
To crush force by using force is an aged method,
Now for the sake of humanity discard the old measures
Deepening the roots of violence,
For since beginning mankind becoming
Fuel of the devastative devices, has suffered a lot;
Just once apply the appliance of love
To resolve the threatening issues.
One who seeds the bushes must be prepared to taste
The pang of pricking;
And one who plants roses might cherish himself
With enthralling colours and sweet perfume.
If one slaps me on the face,
He must be prepared to have two on both of the cheeks,
But patience is the best route to move ahead,
And the world lacks patience.
Necessarily to Samora
On the stream, a cork was thrown
She sank in
She tripped on
She was picked up
A beach, a wave and a sailing ship don’t matter.
You will arrive at the time of coming back.
-Faceless towards passion-
When the dawn was agonized, morning came
I’d be dreaming my dream
The delusion of paddling the sea of love without safety
That passing by valley slits the front of my house
Brings and takes water -don’t you mind giving me a cup!-
This instant…
Domesticated with pain
Your loyalty is vital and you are well-worn
Imagine you
Laying nearby in others snaky arms
The arms that shot my heart
---it shaded lights on more beats
Instead of the distance
Gone astray is not at ease. With the wind and with the wind
This instant…
Time struggle against time
As you smoulder my mind's eye into a fantasy
Days are nights and the same line of attack, sub- stories
Why reddish rose in my hand as you are all roses
I obey the truth; I’m only irritating other’s plant
I gain the fragrant of my tiredness –walking on by-
This instant...
Up above where air outdoes
The reverie is stubbornly standing
I still jump onto the floor preparing a glider for love
Uncut ropes and a silky seat for two birds
Poetess is my bird on shoulder, in veins and between bones
This instant…
Underneath the last sparkling star thinking and gazing
Into things that have been my own
That will never be my own.
Getting back to the memories
Swimming in an endless pool of images and words
Quenching the desire of missing, just somehow
This instant...
My senses flounce your absence
Your silent acquires me the language battles
---God! A German flight pierced the atmosphere
Shelled many wild birds there as I was only watching the scenes
This instant...
The valley’s slit leaves a border line
Face on the pane; I steal glimpses
Wiping away tears by sunny bar entity
Hanging on someone to bring me gathered drops
Steadfast-
“No more than one” I say to heaven-
You tempt me
As I sense your presence by my side
The whisper of your flowing silken dress
A whiff of fragrant jasmine scent.
You tempt me
With each flicker of your doe-brown eyes
Shadowed in lilac hues and full dark lashes
A smile, partly concealed on pouting lips.
You tempt me
With curvaceous waves of long black hair
Cascading by glowing peach-rose cheeks
Rising, falling on your breast with every breath.
You tempt me
As you stand against the evening light
The Aphrodite of my dreams and fantasies
Seductive, alluring and desirable.
I temp you
As gently I pull back my straying hair
Nestled on the fullness of my breast
Exposing what your famished eyes are feasting on.
I tempt you
In silent expectation my body glows
With purpose of fulfilment I slowly make my way to you
My haloed shadow dances on your rigid form.
I tempt you
Breathless, you lean against the wall
My desires surging at this sign of weakness
Within inches of your body, I languidly pause.
I tempt you
Sensuously, at satin ribbons my fingers pull
Until my struggling gown hesitantly quivers
Before it glides and gathers at my feet.
I tempt you
Grounded by wanton cravings, I look you in the eyes
I simply smoulder there within your reach
The final vestige of abstinence still lingers in the air.
I tempt you
Then I lean in, my breath is warm upon your check
Against your heaving chest my breasts now brush
I breathe and whisper softly “Come to me.”
I tempt you
Inveigled in this rare moment, my heart bursts
As you crush my body tightly against yours
You taste the temptress kiss that frees your needs.
I tempt you
For my heart has long been tempted
By strong unquenched desires
For you.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Co-written by Paul Callus & Eileen Manassian (Appassionata)
The Grief of Gaziantep.
Hotter than a Dragon’s kiss,
the seas boil under saffron sun.
Tiny thrumming mosquitoes zone on sweating, caramac skin,
Customer entertainment...hanging from shop fronts,
nine carat gold cages lure buyers in,
imprisoned, flush-red faced finches,
wings of pumpkin-orange
hypnotize purring feral cats.
The afternoon air laden with aromas,
Cinnamon, cumin, ginger...
Bluest sky tips to ripe pomegranate.
Anatolian mountain weavers peddle hand-spun carpets,
fine silk, cool cotton, warm wool.
Faded proud portrait of mounted Ataturk accepts toasts
from chinking, inky Turkish and golden-apple tea glasses.
Layered lutes echo the Ciftetelli as lovers entwine... ***
An odd guest delivers a soul-scalding gift.
Blast! Bang! Splatter! Shatters the buzzing streets of Gaziantep.
Poppy-red plasma sprays through ghost-grey gusts...
Whimpering, wailing, screaming, sobbing,
echoes of sadness rupture the sodden earth,
in once jovial corners, now cups of embers smoulder.
Still Mama’s jet hair moves...like Puma’s in slow-motion.
Leapt into an everlasting world of sorrow,
grief beat-beats upon severed hearts.
Ceaseless pain flutters on wings of wind,
as stretchers convey the motionless and the maimed.
A Jasmine flower chain now a poisonous asp.
The apricot horizon flits through boundless violet skies
as the barley half-moon sings with newborn stars.
Bleeding wounds will scab,
hope, the key of freedom, falters.
Swallows weave darkness to night.
Longings for the lost...
as loved ones whisper in their sleep.
*** Ciftetelli..Turkish Folk music often played at Weddings.
Dedicated to the Citizens of Gaziantep Turkey... Where 54 people (including 22 children) were killed and many injured by a suicide bomber on Saturday 20th August 2016. One mother lost four of her five children.
O to give from ifs and buts free,
To feel happy, pleased just to give,
Feel good that gift is well taken
And that, receiver too feels good,
Charity’s not to show who’s tall,
Give as, to gift is good nature.
It is flowers’ innate nature
To flaunt fragrance and spread it free,
For ego’s sake nor to feel tall,
They give till too wilted to give,
By birth bestowed with this trait good,
Happy, their fragrance is taken.
Lamps like, its light’s lead is taken,
It is the lamp’s born-with nature—
To smoulder till they are no good
To do so, they wish light’s spread free,
For, lamps are born their light to give,
And care to feel good nor yet tall.
A cloud never shows stature tall,
Has always given, scarce taken,
Born with a benign bent, it’d give,
To rain, drain its inborn nature,
Its virtue’s to give, and give free,
It loves to find earth green and good.
Man condescends to give, feel good,
To show off his pedestal tall,
Seldom is his charity free,
Weighs: what in return be taken,
Give so as to take— his nature,
Born is he more to get than give.
Birds be or beasts, their best they give,
Not for any altruistic good,
Because that’s their innate nature,
Not to show off their stature tall,
Yon of things given and taken,
Birds be from all worldly ways free.
Alas, head rules and heart’s not free
To decide, head all commands give
In this world by head be-taken.
____________________________________
Sestina | 01.08.2006, revised Feb 2023 | charity, heart
Poet’s note: Sheer instinct makes birds and beasts look after their newly born without expecting anything in return. But we as humans look forward to our children reciprocating when we are old, not do things in altruism. Why? Because man is being increasingly ruled by head, not heart, this Sestina feels.
You tempt me
As I sense your presence by my side
The whisper of your flowing silken dress
A whiff of fragrant jasmine scent.
You tempt me
With each flicker of your doe-brown eyes
Shadowed in lilac hues and full dark lashes
A smile, partly concealed on pouting lips.
You tempt me
With curvaceous waves of long black hair
Cascading by glowing peach-rose cheeks
Rising, falling on your breast with every breath.
You tempt me
As you stand against the evening light
The Aphrodite of my dreams and fantasies
Seductive, alluring and desirable.
I temp you
As gently I pull back my straying hair
Nestled on the fullness of my breast
Exposing what your famished eyes are feasting on.
I tempt you
In silent expectation my body glows
With purpose of fulfilment I slowly make my way to you
My haloed shadow dances on your rigid form.
I tempt you
Breathless, you lean against the wall
My desires surging at this sign of weakness
Within inches of your body, I languidly pause.
I tempt you
Sensuously, at satin ribbons my fingers pull
Until my struggling gown hesitantly quivers
Before it glides and gathers at my feet.
I tempt you
Grounded by wanton cravings, I look you in the eyes
I simply smoulder there within your reach
The final vestige of abstinence still lingers in the air.
I tempt you
Then I lean in, my breath is warm upon your check
Against your heaving chest my breasts now brush
I breathe and whisper softly “Come to me.”
I tempt you
Inveigled in this rare moment, my heart bursts
As you crush my body tightly against yours
You taste the temptress kiss that frees your needs.
I tempt you
For my heart has long been tempted
By strong unquenched desires
For you.
A collaboration between Paul Callus and Appassionata (Paul's name for me)
Woven are these pages in poetic verse,
With bare threads of our deepest feelings,
You will find laughter, tears and remorse,
and words of wisdom, prayer and healings. 1
The words herein form an anthology of love,
From the pens of poets from around the world,
It's a love only possible through God above,
Creating a bond of friendship freely unfurled. 2
Sorrows drip from our pens so poignantly,
Elegantly too our joys are expressed,
We can even imagine things we cannot see,
With imagery, our loveliest thoughts are dressed. 3
Metaphors and simile express the fire,
that smoulder in the bosom of a writer,
who only seeks to send to you with fond desire,
a verse to make our weary lives much brighter. 4
The poet mines the cave for treasures sought,
Walls encrusted with images from the past,
Chipping away at a long forgotten thought,
Emerging with gold nuggets at long last. 5
The entry of Divine words must be first,
because they always have the deepest meanings,
And they are able to quench our deepest thirst,
In spite of all our ailments and other misgivings. 6
Such highlight gratitude-assertions today,
Rippling with blissful hope for tomorrow,
Dispelling woes breathed-out by yesterday,
Assuring God’s presence midst blessings’ flow… 7
Emerald emotive urge surges in opulence
on rhythmic passionate flow of poems,
Earnest yearning rippling on relevance,
Verses shining, glowing, sparkling like gems.8
Poets polish leather letters with feather fingers,
Every word wild like the waves of the ocean,
Passionate paragraphs parade with clingers,
Full moon highlights heights of heavenly motion.9
If words were gold coins in a silken purse,
We would seek their worth in our dealings,
And we would wish to have recourse
To those gifts of verse they are revealing.10