Long Spillage Poems
Long Spillage Poems. Below are the most popular long Spillage by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spillage poems by poem length and keyword.
"I did not but see her passing by, and yet I will love her until I die."
~ Robert Menzies
You don't know I am aware of the depth of your despair
Or that I hear you crying when you think no one’s there
The ailment within your heart is more than I can bare
Yet, you have the innocence of a child
I watch you disappear in shadows and I say a prayer
Sad, am I when in your eyes there's a blank stare
I would ask what makes you frown, but would you share
Yet, not so long ago you smiled
Silently, you tiptoe, timidly trying not to make a sound
What do you write upon page after page, spiral bound?
I marvel at your drawings, only those that I have found
Yet, I wonder why you feel exiled
What burden gives you cause to wear a dolorous face
I would offer you my heart if your pain it could erase
To brush away your sorrow, my hand would give chase
Yet, the secret you hold is not reconciled
I am helpless when clouds in blue above, you color gray
Can I breach your wall of gloom and make it go away
How do I paint a rainbow in your sky every single day
Yet, no list of answers have I compiled
It's an antidote, I seek to end the spillage of your tears
What cure will abdicate from the throne, your deep fears
Tell me, my love, why you've strayed from me for years
yet, I know our love has not been defiled
Do you feel locked within the vault of a sepulcher room
Sweet bud, without reason to open your petals and bloom
A gardenia in spring, scent lying trapped inside a womb
Yet, would, if I could, join you in your world beguiled.
May 6, 2023
Writing Challenge ~ 'Y' Words
Sponsored by Constance La France
We came upon a clearing
In the scattering of the town
Bomb damage as scenery
In this place called Caen
The village square we reach
Shell casings pepper the ground
Blood and spillage flows
War is all around
In the distance we hear
That the enemy are retreating
The losses our heroes
In this theatre of beating
The local school
Which had seen the worst
A tribute exists
Of the fallen first
In the debris there stands
His weapon of war
Upon it sits
The helmet he wore
This patriot
Of the land of the free
The Stars and Stripes
He will no longer see
As we continued our quest
To free Europe and beyond
So many solitary helmets
Will unify our bond
.
Inside our living room, there stood a table.
Three legs it had; its round top was unique.
Mom kept it in the corner, and she’d say
so proudly that the table was antique.
Well polished, it had a vase atop it,
and flawless was its base, legs widely splayed.
One day, with Mom away, we moved it to
another room. A few games we then played.
Our chairs fit well round that three-legged table
as we played our Yahtzee and Crazy Eights.
A lovely afternoon we spent, just I
with two of my dear sisters as my mates.
One sister (I can’t recall which one now)
brought drinks to us, and just as Mom walked in,
I spilled my drink! Mom became hysteric
as if I had committed some great sin!
She yanked us off our chairs and quickly wiped
the spillage – yelling at us the whole time.
The table got put back into its corner,
and we were punished for our little crime.
The vase was put back on the table’s top,
and we three got no soup that night to sup.
Mom’s in a nursing home now; we’ve all grown.
I wonder where that table ended up!
Between the lines of Poetry Soup
Lies partly hidden the real scoop
Poets with emotion’s overflow
Spillage of which, they do not know
Leaks between lines of what they write
Discerning souls, bring them to light
Fellow poets with the same disease
Wanting to love, wanting to please
Can read between the lines so fair
And see love affairs recorded there
And secrets longings all scream out
Though unstated, there is no doubt
Which poet is in love with whom
Which affair is destined to bloom
Clear to read Love’s Richter scale
The in between codes, never fail
Poems present and poems past
Love or friendship, which will last?
Terms of endearment, every one
Is a love song that can not be sung
Between the lines, you can’t deny
Is where love affairs are flying high
For we are poets one and all
Programmed, it seems, in love to fall…
With people whose words do ignite
Who caress the soul with sheer delight
Chorus:
Between the lines
Between the lines
The love is there
Between the lines
The long standing and hidden pain
The hints of a love gone insane
Between the lines
Between the lines
YOUR love is there
Between the lines.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
In my hand the ink drips,
commotional emotions at large,
patches has failed.
Nails and swords, pierce the hearing ear,
fussed drops of lethal dose,
push me to the edge,
for adrenaline chokes my conscience,
lead tracks,
Perforation of daunted untrampled dark corners of my mind,
diffuse me from this dungeons,
Let the near and afar witness
and preserve my presence
for days have surpassed others unrecorded,
I'm poetic ink,
unleash and infiltrate the soul
for the present to inherit the marks,
Was just an ink, they said,
Lil to their knowledge,
This is a force to be reckoned with,
if today imparts none,
Tommorow might be in vain,
shallow and void,
the ink drips.
Feed the soul for the mind is unguided and clouded by rage, assert the uncertain, pull me closer for the desire is ravenous.
Hand me the cannon, mass distraction at need.
I blow the missiles my presence is not for the immediate
but the wild and beastly,
human essence at awe,
look and listen,
read and understand,
this ink echoes, wisdom
and intellectualism.
breed the inbred.
My crime would not go unpunished,
spilling the ink is my servitude,
don't wanna account for my silence,
for I'm delegated,
to empty this ink before my return,
dust to dust, ash to ashes,
none must pass here before bowing
and acknowledging the spillage,
for I am poetic ink.
#Poetic_Ink
In my hand the ink drips, commotional emotions at large , patches has failed. Nails and swords, pierce the hearing ear, fussed drops of lethal dose, push me to the edge, for adrenaline chokes my conscience, lead tracks, perforation of daunted untrampled dark corners of my mind, diffuse me from this dungeons, let the near and afar witness and preserve my presence for days have surpassed other unrecorded,
I'm poetic ink, unleash and infiltrate the soul for the present to inherit the marks, was just an ink, they said, a Lil to their knowledge, it's a force to be reckoned with, if today imparts none, Tommorow might be in vain, shallow and void, the ink drips, feed the soul for the mind is unguided and clouded by rage, assert the uncertain, pull me closer for the desire is ravenous.
Hand me the cannon, mass distraction at need, I blow the missiles my presence is not for the immediate but the wild and beastly, human essence at awe, look and listen, read and understand, this ink echoes, wisdom and intellectual, breed the inbred,
my crime would not go unpunished, spilling the ink is my servitude, don't wanna account for my silence, for I'm delegated, to empty this ink before my return, dust to dust, ash to ashes, none must pass here before bowing and acknowledging the spillage
#Poetic_Ink
Between the lines of Poetry Soup
Lies partly hidden the real scoop
Poets with emotion’s overflow
Spillage of which, they do not know
Leaks between lines of what they write
Discerning souls, bring them to light
Fellow poets with this "disease"
Wanting to love, wanting to please
Can read between the lines so fair
And see love affairs written there
And secret longings all scream out
Though unstated, there is no doubt
Which poet is in love with whom
And which affair will surely bloom
Clear to read Love’s Richter scale
The in between codes, never fail
Poems present and poems past
Love or friendship, now which will last?
Terms of endearment, every one
Is a love song that can't be sung
Between the lines, you can’t deny
Affairs of heart are flying high
For we are poets one and all
Programmed, it seems, in love to fall…
With those whose words can so ignite
Who touch our souls with sheer delight
Chorus:
Between the lines
Between the lines
The love is there
Between the lines
The long standing and hidden pain
The hints of love that's gone insane
Between the lines
Between the lines
YOUR love is there
Between the lines.
Eileen Manassain
we started together,
you and i.
we grew as we
wandered this earth,
the smell of soil permeated our senses.
we stayed so close
our roots began to bond,
the origin of our creation
became a union, an abomination.
given the choice
between their doctrines,
and their children,
they chose the scripture.
instructions
on how to raise
saplings and sinners like us.
over time,
our roots were separated
into divisions.
they hoped
that the sunders
would prevent our sins.
as if grafting our stems
in new locations
would be a solvent.
but we are of a long line,
an adaptive family tree,
not connected by dna
but a community nonetheless.
we learned from our lineage
to forge our own paths
unafraid of the trek ahead.
despite the watering,
the spillage onto our new leaves as
an attempt to squander our strength,
we persevere.
but this drowning
continues
and digs
us
deeper
into
the
ground.
soon,
we're
six
feet
below
surface.
the leaves and the buds
have erroded,
diminished
into a future fertility
for the sediment.
their attempt
to drown us out
with a downpour
has succeeded,
the moisture turned to rot.
but my dear,
no matter where you
may rest now,
i know that in the end,
our bones will be laid the same,
and our remains will one day
grow again to full bloom.
Uncomplicated me
I thought I was colour blind
free thinking and kind
with an evolved mind
Loving and accepting
of the ones I find
Yet my blindness
Is that of privilege
I'm just a visitor
in the Global village
From my narrow thin mind
there is too much spillage
Although so many
are forced from their homes
My life seems carefree
I am deaf to the groans
Brown women wearing veils
that can't protect them from stones
I live in a white washed place
No "Freedom Marches"
for men of a different race
Yet, if I look back and trace
there are darker stories to face
We all took part in shameful things
Yes, we share in the disgrace.
Highways of tears
Rivers of shame
There's always
someone else to blame
Residential schools
Each child got a new name
They were forced to forget
the place from where they came
Prisons filled
with black and red skinned men
They can't forget
this now or that then
Promises and promises
but who how and when
Or will their children
have to live it all over again
So yes
No longer colour blind
With the opening of my mind
I let colour seep in
Starting somewhere different
today I begin
Because I know
it shouldn't be
just the privileged who win!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sky splits open at dusk,
spilling its ink across the horizon~
Why not walk barefoot into the spillage?
The door is agape,
the dog dreams of a wider yard~
Why not let the wind rearrange the furniture?
The train station at midnight
is a mouth full of swallowed departures~
Why not whisper your name to the tracks?
The moon is just a rock
with better lighting~
Why not throw it at the dark?
The coffee grows cold
while you debate the weight of its bitterness~
Why not drink it anyway?
The sky is a crumpled receipt;
the trees are shaking loose their coins~
Why not pocket the afternoon?
The door is ajar, the train is leaving,
your name is half-formed on someone’s lips~
Why not answer?
The world is a question
posed in a language you’ll never decipher~
Why not answer in tongues of your own?
Why does the sky refuse to explain its blue?
Why does the ant carry twice its weight without complaint?
Why does the river bend but never asks permission?
Why does a child draw a door on the wall and waits?
Why does a dog dig up bones it didn’t bury?
Why not touch the stove just to feel the burn?
Why not let the unanswered questions linger?
The world is a question you refuse to ask,
a dare you pretend not to hear.
Why not? Why not? Why not?