Long Snapshot Poems
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In the void of my transitional mind,
the aimless scatter-shots of snapshot in kind
finding itheir way.through pokes in the brine.
Saran wrap bindings of biased memories, invent orys,
and tupper-ware leftovers tidings of dreams, kept palatable for the aroaming beasts.
I find the manipulations stirring like mercurial-gravy,
sardonical Last Suppers of my humanity at
the toppings station, insulting.
Where's the variety, where's the if there
is a will there's a way?
Where's the frikkin beef?
I heard that commercial say- (I agree,
where's our defense against the dark arts Teacher
or our non f'd with bandwith to have our say?
;My Atriuk-Consultants,
disappearing, through a buffet line
of suitors for my gun hand-as treason's malignant mercenary gland.
Stranger in a strange clan.
Now every thought is like a remembrance, a
severance to pay for it all.The tying to-me
in Gordian crossroads mocked silverly
by multi directional unabaiting winds
blowing adversarily.
Each pointing "this way you fail !"
"Every which way a noose !"
"This way you fall !"
Of on the loose this way dungeon echoes
a calling as dark corridor Shades
with no true form to call.
The past haunts, the future calls,
lost in the chaos urn, as time falls-
in diminished return,
for the base is nearly full to lay
as a squandored mound of time.
Like shooting stars across the sky,
my dreams flicker, then fade and die?
Searching for purpose, to see what sticks.
I fire all of my rounds at once
In this endless maze of day and night I pace
these walls, like those Demonic Shades,
who chant "hey Jude" and perform "Jude Law"
in Shakespearean play, "There's something about Mary...
whomever target to sway. Come wicked this way s.
But in the darkness, I find a kin-spark
guide in my self defense,
of cheerlead everence in reference to
hope belonging to everyone the same.
A torch in the deepening dark
to saber heroicly for my good name.
Iwill rise from the sullen ashes,
strong and brilliantly bright, aiimless no more,
faith in my sights.
Pull !
Let the scatter shot fall where it may,
I'll carve my path, come what may.
For in the chaos, I see the arts of strength,
the part I play,
I find beauty's confidence and vision
in the facets of my jaded heart,
that maybe I can help the World in some small but
contrite way.
Zooming out, I take it all in- the big picture
Is this what you thought it’d look like from the outside after everything was said and done?
A flawed image of our wasted youth
I pan in; seeing the fine lines of your words scribbled across the page
Did you mean them, or did you mean to just fill the empty spaces of my heart with false
intentions?
I crop it, making it seem perfect to everyone else except me
I’m the only one who knows the truth- cutting off all your lies to make you appear infallible,
isn’t that what you thought you wanted me to do?
Preserve your precious reputation?
I can’t be sure of you, but I can’t read your mind.
I feel cornered in your intoxicating atmosphere which swirls about with deception and greed
I breathe it in and it burns in my lungs
I’m becoming something I always swore I’d never be
This air smothers the flames of my inner most thoughts, swaying me into believing your
every word
I am under your spell as you swear you have me tucked under your wing
How did we begin to soar, even when I knew we were bound to skim on the sea of disaster?
I’ve become a jealous conniving monster
Hungry with desire for something that only temporarily satisfies; your love
It seeps into my soul and wrecks the film of memories taken by my mind
The perfect image of you is gone forever
In its place a gaping hole
I’m at the bottom of it, waiting for the bucket to carry me up from the failure of this lost
wishing well
I call but no one answers
I may drown in my own apathy before you come and save me and help me remember how
to feel anything at all
It’s a cycle, I know
But I can’t help but continue to trust in your saving grace- you save me from the darkest
demons alive in my heart tonight
A more threatening force than you could ever pray to be
Who should I let hold me hostage?
The jail cell in my mind?
Or a place in your arms?
Is one more costly than the other?
I will never be sure, but I know I will always be indebted to you
My greatest joy
My biggest downfall
And my best mistake
You knocked the wind out of my sails, and sank my ship
I now drown in your love
Calling out your name to save me from myself
I feel my last breath escape from my lungs
I am now your corpse, floating lifelessly in your shallow pond of pride
Form:
his last gasp was quite lengthy
trying to go out with a bang as usual
a rationalist manifesto covering his face
accompanied by a cotton field work song
his grip went slack under the torrent of images
fortunes have been lost in that snapshot parlor
shook the money from the pockets
of many a surviving Siamese twin
blessed with a rugged set of mouse buttons
he pitched head first into the theocratic miasma
since a rescue by wisdom eluded his pilgrimage
and its inner parade of flailing penitents
he died to a real slow slide whistle tango
from a regrettable strangulation of debate
and terminally transparent eyelids
at least the bastards left me to my fate he mused
just as a legion of parachutists
crashed and tumbled through the roof
it was an Exist-o-Gram from my dear mother
but first a word from our sponsor
Hi there Mel Linger owner of Mel's Futon Corral
so jump in the calaboose and come on down
for a steal of a deal and a big gold tooth smile
clear and sunny in the lowland swamps
now for some traffic from overhead
fully awake after the reservoirs of hell broke loose
his mathematician’s mind calculated
how long until earthly paradise
it was a delusion but a lot of them work
time to risk the entire skin layer he fielded
searching for the trail to civilization
he shinnied up his collective unconscious
an optico semiotician on a paranormal safari
and began to read mom's holy missive
son, your persistent mania for self dialog
requiring a frequent bath in statistics and terror
has left you under the juggernaut's wheels
for some fashionable occult mystery
humor him it's a mud fest in there
relaxed again and ready for
the ever enchanting silhouette of flames
he spread his wings and noticed
there were no wings too late
his nipples were erect with drama
moms lips floated above and spoke
the extraterrestrial rushed up at him
the Cherubs chirped and twittered
as he rowed over the spillway of oblivion
and stood before the ancient ones
boy were they ancient decrepit even
connected to bubbling jars by their sex organs
apparently this made them really smart
the one labeled mom bubbled and spoke
lose the kilt festooned with skulls son
later that day a marsh fire swept through heaven
and a humming bird took nectar from his ear
Ernie was a hell raiser
A daredevil of sorts.
He was popular in school,
A natural at sports.
A kid in a candy store
Is the way Ernie felt.
All he had to do was smile,
And every girl would melt.
But he had eyes for Sally,
The only girl for him.
She was aces in his book,
A beauty, tall and slim.
They married after high school,
The Fall of thirty eight,
Ernie earned a scholarship,
At Arizona State.
While he worked for his degree,
Sally clerked at a store;
But their dreams were cut short by
The Second World War.
Ernie became a Captain
In the Army Air Corps.
He proudly served his country,
Like his father before.
Sally trained to be a nurse,
She wished to do her part.
Then word reached her that Ernie
Had earned the Purple Heart.
He’d engaged the Japanese,
Out in the Philippines.
Shot down at Corregidor,
News came from the marines.
The next three years passed slowly,
And Sally tried to cope.
But something would not let her,
Lose faith or give up hope.
Then in early November,
Of nineteen forty five,
The Army called to tell her,
Ernie was still alive.
Parachuting from his plane
He broke one of his knees,
But still avoided capture,
By hostile Japanese.
He joined with the resistance,
A ragged, motley band,
And offered his assistance,
Though he could hardly stand.
The rebels had a medic,
Who tended to his knee;
But without proper treatment
It wasn’t meant to be.
He would always have a limp,
And Ernie knew the score.
His future would be different,
Than what he knew before.
Somehow it didn’t matter,
If this wound changed his life,
If upon returning home
He’s greeted by his wife.
For she is what he fought for,
For her he would have died,
Only she can ease the pain
Of his next labored stride.
The ship made port in Richmond,
And Ernie said a prayer.
Then through tear filled eyes, he saw
His Sally waiting there.
For a moment, time stood still
Every detail defined,
Imprinted like a snapshot
Upon each of their minds.
And like an old time movie,
They met in an embrace.
End credits rolled as Ernie
Wiped tears from Sally’s face.
They drove into the sunset,
Holding hands and grinning,
Though tales end, we know this is
Only the beginning.
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
Earthdate/starttime: 11/04/19 01:10:26 AM
Earthdate/endtime: 11/04/19 02:55:46 AM
Poetic snapshot regarding immediate
actual, physical, spatial... environment
pertinent, relevant, salient... yours truly
commenced within fleeting electronic
date/time stamp indicated above bereft
attempts to describe character sketch,
whereat I sit within Apartment B44:
taking immediate lock, stock & barrel
ordinary repeated situation witnessing
garden variety *****sapien imbibing
familiar scenario, while spouse sleeps
near proximity, CPAP machine regulates
continuous positive airway pressure
offsetting sleep apnea breathe more so
she can breathe free and clear preventing
airway from collapsing when she inhales.
Nothing particularly spectacular wee hour
this ordinary moment beckoned, challenged
decided... attempt to focus (laser like) sense
and sensibility without pride, nor prejudice
essentially simply worded still life repeated
predictably, & regularity glossed over other
instances finding impetus preying upon pro-
fun ditties, and expansive vocabulary unsure
communicated printed idea understandable
aware some readers disinclined wading thru
thicket (quagmire) of verbiage, hence eureka
experience to corral immediate circumstance
(think Will Rogers' 140th birthday his home
spun extemporaneous anecdotal nuggets.)
Many occasions embarking upon complexity
aspire to elaborate intricate worded webbed
(wide aye bother) complex edifice ambitious
invariably confounding unsuspecting readers
suddenly sinking within quicksand helpless
against salvation, hence painstaking effort
to asseverate downplaying sesquipedalian
rather toning down syllabification sharing
trumpeting, undulating humdrum existence
verily reporting sleeping on floor - courtesy
restless leg syndrome, which affects the mrs.
Marriage basically no match heavenly made,
nonetheless dynamic linkedin travails values
wifely attentiveness to prepare unrecognized
frying object (best described as pop slop), +
she tends other domestic chore, viz washing
soiled clothes nsync of kitchen, whiling away
(think dervish) stoking chaos within invisible
re: nearly infinitesimal speck within Milkyway.
My name is Spencer Byron.
My first wife Addy died tragically in 1991.
A devotee of surprise. She was so much fun.
The breadth of love is unchartered territory.
Not all loves can be explained.
There are many aspects of love.
Today my wife's name is Amy.
She knows little of this.
She mended my tattered heart left by Addy.
A night this week in our New England hometown
in the crushing crowd leaving the show
I saw a flash and a glance by Addy
between moving heads and shoulders.
Same exquisite, classic, good looks.
Same beguiling presence of my love thirty years ago.
How could it be?
After the crash, in the morgue
I'd sent her off to eternity
with a teary kiss on her pale, sweet cheek
before they took her away.
There are many aspects of love.
Where did Addy disappear to that night?
With an old snapshot the next day,
secretly I went to the hotel near the theater
on a chance. To my surprise,
she and her sister were staying there.
Should we, could we meet?
The sister answered the hotel room door.
I explained that her sister had a haunting
resemblance to someone I'd loved thirty years before.
Then I saw her - same long thin neck, deep brown eyes,
hair up in a twist, surprise in those eyes.
When she first spoke, my heart leapt.
The urban myth is each of us has
an exact double somewhere in the world.
There are many aspects of love.
We talked timidly, as the sister went to make tea.
She leaned forward, touched my hand and said,
"Dear heart, I seem to know you somehow".
My head exploded, I was filled with infatuation
once again. Spinning, it took me over.
How quick it was. I tried not to show it.
Stumbling over rushing thoughts,
I knew to withdraw, to protect myself from me.
"Dear heart" was Addy's pet name for me!
Startled and backing away, I left my personal card.
Later, I got a handwritten note on my door.
It said, "Dear heart, I met you two years ago in Brussels.
Your name was Emile Ibsen.
You were thirty years younger then.
We made forbidden love.
Should we do it again?"
There are many aspects of love.
Colored Pencil Illustration G.Gaul 2023
Preface to this brief bitty
written snap ting snapshot – word ditty
dates back before I reached gritty
age of eight and fifty, aye recall a kitty
rescued by my youngest sister, who took pity
and felt aghast,
at a potential cruel fate no witty.
Upon return home from an Antioch College coup
(so many diverse work experiences required -
some involving offal goop
i.e. case in point being this anecdote,
which may fall outside the loop
of common “hands on
off fish shawl” employment,
thee tasks on par with handling poop
stoically accepted by Shari Todd
(name of said sibling),
who when home from Davis, California
(albeit temporarily, and before she returned
to Yellow Springs, Ohio) divulged
how she did scoop
dread, dreck, dregs, et, cetera –
i.e. by product amidst fish farm
didst set her dead against being linkedin
purr animal cruelty, thus play role of troop
er – which tummy
earned her kudos a resounding whoop!
* * * * * * * * * * *
Before launching into this poem purr say
lemme mention how thine late mother
took an immediate affinity and hence no delay
that this lucky creature became akin to a bebe.
Main Coon, Felis catus, nicknamed Boozie
raccoon features, face mask, brown thick costume
handsome boy, affectionate personality, expressively vocal
Pink wet nose, emerald eyes, pointed ears
cavernous mouth, sharp teeth, rough tongue
striped design, massive fluffy fur, bushy tail
Soft paws, padded cushions, retractable blades
wild animal, predation urge, survival instinct
agile movement, swift motion, unfortunate victim
Door prize, flies feast, whitened bones
loyalty strong, pageant display,
splayed across kitchen table courtly dignity
Quiet house, sonar sounded, Cheshire upward smile
purred softly, rubbed legs, warm vacant lap
Jumping agility, firmly sequestered
Contentment expressed, internal hum, reciprocal therapy
beautiful petsmart, little monkey, comfortably sleeps
peaceful slumber, wakeful stretch, ideal life
Fortunate intervention, cat whisker to demise,
brush avoided becoming piscine meal,
kingly privileged role, heartfelt love.
Friday rolls around
I am too excited
My pennies are saved
My outfit’s sorted
Bath and make up, done
Ready for a big night out
One problem
It’s the afternoon
Tick tock,
Tick tock
Hurry the fek up Mr. Clock
You really, truly hate me
'Cause of you I’m late for work
Early for fun
You bore me to hell with your incessant tick tocking
If you had a real face I would…
I’ll have a drink
Chill
Kill some time
Just the one
Lightweight
I sip Whisky
And twiddle my thumbs
Bored on the highest level
Eureka!
I’ll check the Net
Laptop open
Booting up
Logging on
123 ABC
Bingo, I’m in
Surprise
I have three emails
Junk!
Unless I needed to grow my ***** ten more inches
Date a married man
Or join Mob Wars and get one million fake dollars for online poker
Now there’s a bit of competition for you
NOT
Facebook is where it’s at on a Friday afternoon
Isn’t it?
Let me see if there are any interesting status updates
Nope
Unless I care that Trudy is having a nice cup of tea after getting all her ironing done
Wow, Susan planted apple trees on her farm, and took a snapshot (WTF?)
David is with Mark, Kate and Lesley somewhere near Southend
I’m glad I’m thousands of miles away from the weirdoes
Oh, wait a second
I have an invite!
And it’s something to do with food
My profile says I’m a chef
I post tons of pictures of food
Finally something worth opening
Wrong!
Amy has invited me to join Chef World
Now I can work in a virtual kitchen cooking virtual food after spending all day in a real kitchen cooking real food
Idiotic waste of time
I click the link and enter a bright red kitchen
Timers scattered
Pots and pan readied
Bacon eggs, beans and fries to cook
All need coordinating
Timing is crucial
And she’s off
Fries on
123456
Bacon, wait for it
Wait for it
On
123
Toast down
12345
Beans on
123
Toast pops
Burnt
Crap!
Fries burnt
Eggs burnt
Crap
I try again
And again
After 4 hours I’m a virtual pro
The phone rings
‘Kim, I’ll be there in ten, be ready.'
'I'll try.'
You've had all day, what you doing?’
'Murdering time.'
Form:
well, there you go, sweetheart;
i have done it at last -
the unthinkable, the reckless, the bold
and possibly suicidal thing...
i have gritted my teeth and hurled myself out into the
void,
into all those endless miles of frigid soul-sucking vacuum
that stretch, echoing, fatal, between us;
i have broken all taboos, all our silent intense oaths -
i broached the subject of marriage.
oh yes, shudder in your shoes and recoil...
it lies before us in the ether,
that doomladen ritual of wedlock, of entwining souls,
that old ball and chain...i dangle it before you now,
like a baited lure, a mace with shining spikes
ready to be driven into your heart -
or mine
and in so doing, i have committed the bravest rashest act;
i have relinquished all my carefully hoarded power,
risked all, life and heart and soul,
for this kamikaze mission, this fairytale yearning...
i have placed my battered self esteem on the table
a crude bargaining chip,
and raised the stakes to their lofty teetering peak
and in so doing, i offer you my throat to cut,
my veins to slice,
my life to choke from me as you see fit
i have made myself both hunter and hunted,
doomed whichever way i turn -
and all for this;
a closely guarded longing, an image of you and i, a dream...
you in pristine white suit, tousled black hair tumbling over
masculine shoulders, standing at the altar;
that sacrificial place -
and there am i, beside you, shining and radiant,
an angel with luminous smile and turgid crimson heart, bursting
with so much fabulous dreamed-up love i can scarcely stand...
it is a beautiful snapshot, composed of mist and moonbeams,
of my own fervent imaginings
a fool's hope, certainly, but also a tenuous possibility...
and for this, i have risked all,
have danced myself a merry jig all the way to the edge of the grave -
and here i hover, white-lipped, wild-eyed,
in limbo between ecstasy and crippling goddamned despair;
with only one word from you to decide which way i tumble -
to decide how i will live...
or, bitterly,
Die.
Have you wandered off the beaten path and blamed someone other than YOURSELF? Or could it be that you never walked the path of others, because you were alone and LEFT. Did someone hurt you when you ran from the room in a rush, never telling others how you FELT? Perhaps it’s time you take responsibility and say what’s on your mind, rather than remain STEALTH.
We were made to be inquisitive and to question, but you never knew, because you never asked. You cry and weep inside while something holds you BACK, and you surrender, keeping on the mask. Most of us understand being afraid, but it’s not good to remain in the closet, not accepting the TASK.
Open your eyes, your ears, and you might just see and hear someone new, and discover it’s really you. Even you have yet to know the real you, because like a snapshot UNEXPOSED, you are still ENCLOSED in the shadow of the negatives. You are like a birthday or Christmas present, so beautifully wrapped. Don’t hide or be afraid of yourself or your shades of GREY, because you reveal your true colors when you step out into the light of DAY.
You have heard it said of you, “He’s/She's quiet and cool, so cute and plays by the RULES”. But did you hear when they said, “There is a dire need for social TOOLS”?
Perhaps you have allowed others to define the person they think you are.
This, you must forbid to be so, and slowly open your closet door.
Come on out my friend, show yourself, and have your SAY.
Let’s fly a kite where it’s windy at the beach or by the BAY.
Come on and unwrap yourself, because you have been put here for a purpose.
Unwrap yourself, because no one else can do what you were designed to do.
You have been gifted and touched by God’s hands of GRACE.
Step out into the world and leave your unique TRACE.
You need not rush, but proceed at your own PACE.
You are more than a pleasing face in a quiet PLACE.
Without you, we will digress as a human RACE.
So unwrap yourself, because you are truly loved
cj04102015