Long Splintered Poems
Long Splintered Poems. Below are the most popular long Splintered by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Splintered poems by poem length and keyword.
Vertical Sea
Arise horizons tell us what you see
Vertical rain comes on high wave conclusions adrift in mist
Fortunes waiting out on the sea for men who come in ships
So much rain came in from all directions in one instance
Sanity was questioned at a distance along with risk
Vertical rain broke portal windows with such force
Eighty mile winds crashed in as well
Distracted men at playing cards, drinking rum for fun
Now huddled in fear within the thin skin cabin
No one slept inside the dead of hour’s darkness
Troubles bounced up and down out there
Pirates in the past fumbled their rich existence down
A new crop of water warriors can be found to take their place
Doubloons are buried in dark quarter’s underwater world
Above and below deck, inundated with storm and fear
Between each plank the storm took out more men
No thick skinned seasoned soul could harness or hold on
No salty language sailor could be heard
Above the tumultuous storm
The fierce beast rolled in on angry nature’s back
With it, folding over fifty foot waves, came torrential rains
Which pounded heavy on the bow
Churned up rogue waters on the vulnerability of sea life
Nature itself turned on them in adept ferocity
In violence it flipped the ship
Showed contempt for every soul on board
With total disregard for life and limb
And complete indifference towards the sailors
The blackness, void of light, could not help these tyrannical conditions
The monstrous storm consumed more than the rain
It drank up men and drowned them
Others flew in all directions
Most of them broke necks, died before they hit the deck
Instantly killed, dragged into the cold dark depths as well
All steps were in the wrong direction, in favor of the waves
They could not even cower in the craft or say a prayer
The boat and men turned upside down
The ship had splintered into nothing and flew into the gale
Only three men remained, bobbing on the giant waves
Flapping their arms like molested chickens on the sea
Tossed in every direction but straight ahead
Rogue waves were in control, in hysterical rage and agitation
No one knew what happened to the crew
They were never seen again
Horrible, my map upended our time with boot camp son.
Horrible to get back to base, not be caught, had to run.
Horrible, to see Mom hurried into hospice, her hours few.
Horrible when we heard last sweet breaths, as time flew.
Horrible when a tree splintered the roof of our deck.
Horrible, the tree balancing, just above hubby, in check.
Horrible when eggshells were underfoot, a bad spell.
Horrible the slamming doors, curses and raising hell.
Horrible the gall stones and bladder, ended grand visit.
Horrible the nightmarish nettles that percoset gifted.
Horrible heaven’s so far away, like pot of gold source.
Horrible, like vagabonds, earthlings veer off course.
Horrible, the end of a savory and sweet meal.
Horrible the rancid leftovers of mortal ideals.
Horrible when poetry is no longer wielded, engaged.
Horrible when Armeggedon speaks, when war is waged.
“Just because you are soft doesn't mean you are not a force. Honey and wildfire are both the colour gold.” ~Victoria Erickson
Tonight the moon sanctioned
her golden halo
to unfurl butterfly wings
rinsed with honey
and champagne ribbons,
as feathers of lunar crust rise,
to embellish the sky
with silver sequins,
drizzling second chances
upon fickle hearted dragonflies,
gifted as weapons of
deception to the sweltering breeze,
that wrapped my weakened knees.
I’ve always known trusting
is a losing game with no winners,
but why do I always feel
like an intruder sinking deep
into the depths of spiteful seas~
where planktons and stinging marine
nettles prick my untouched skin?
Yet I am still searching for
a singing star that wouldn’t
need written renderings of
how my black tinted glass
heart was left to drown.
Who would have thought,
there’d be more to the
onyx glittered
ripples that stream,
in teal blue waves?
If only they’d hear
every unspoken tale
of shipwrecked ruins
resting amongst graphite
motions of frozen intuitions,
forgotten through forsaken
lagoons amidst
fleeting monsoons,
left as memoirs along
soft coral mists swiftly
passing through patch
reefs in abandoned atolls.
So let me take my splintered
spheres to a realm of no return,
forgiving sinful anthems
that lured me to believe
that friends were more
than enemies in sweet disguise.
I am soft, not fragile,
neither am I a
shrunken blossom.
I am a tiger lily,
fragrant yet fierce,
ready to face whatever~
hypocritical fangs of fate
may serve in merlot wine chalices.
When we search for answers from egotistic minds,
life is full of meaningless questions that lead us nowhere.
You sabotaged the sandman who brought me my dreams,
corrupting and confusing the clarity of my conscience.
In a world of betrayal, I thought you were my
saviour,
but your promises were sworn from a throne of lies -
where you perch as the king of false pretences.
Tired from being a victim of your insecurities,
I am not your mistake nor your abandoned
trauma.
Fate led my empathic sanity into your labyrinth of splintered hollowness,
confining me within a soulless sphere of unfair
madness,
yet, I still remember how you pledged to show me the moon -
falsehoods which led to an eternal eclipse for my eyes.
You stole the silver sewn with perfectly metered syllables,
calming the storm I carry in cacophonous silence,
but now, all I see is a megalomaniac monster, draped in rose tones of synthetic rhodolite, pretending to be an ivory dove in a horizon of vicious vultures,
hiding behind a decaying province of black petunias.
Your synthetic smile veils your cruel character, afraid that the vermilion you paint across your
sunsets,
will reveal the poison you fed my paralyzed soul.
My ink will always portray your true parasite persona,
about your attempts to assassinate my authentic aroma,
as now i blossom in meadows without your
toxic touch.
The Oil Soft Yoke
Alas, the contest sponsors do expound
on how to sail your craft, and where it’s bound
thus must the muse-less vessels get in line
wander straight and never serpentine
for hearts are frail and distant widows peak
still hear cold vagrant cries of those who seek
a passage to a new world without rules
to build their frameless houses without tools.
And yet we stand in awe at castle gates
to view the masterpieces of the greats
ignore the splintered floors that bow and creak
believe the feather strong, the broadsword weak.
Embrace the furrowed rows, the oil soft yoke
for poetry when written ain’t no joke..
©12/24/2019
STRAND SPECIAL 8
Stones hide under rocks for cover
Left to their own devices they will never move
And don't have plans this afternoon
There is something about boulders too
Breaking loose from mountain tops
Roaring down with tumbling sounds
Stones have no choice but to follow in their actions
Join in the boulders calamity of gravity
Down with trouble and nothing better to do
One slip is all it takes to start an avalanche
When they crush the home set on the cliff
Make splintered sounds, cracking wood
It is too much collective heavy force
People inside become crumpled with the structure
Massive weight makes changes
Occupants of the house don't care for boulders
And stones don't think of murder
They hide under boulders normally
Occasionally rocks become emotional
Boulders roll over with indifference
When stones go down the mountain
Her long arms and long legs moved ferociously as her smooth naked body swirl around under the sky glow of the Southern firmament.
Her face an illuminating onyx.
Her hair bush and tight, resisting the spring breeze.
A melody engaged her mind, with unborn children singing a chorus of days that could have been.
She danced strongly against memories of being touched by so many men, and the chains of unrequited love and misery laid scattered in the sand.
The briny sea air stretched her nostrils, and salty tears ran down her youthful face.
Her brain and body still crave the euphoria of the 'snow'.
With a splintered heart she looked towards the heavens for a whispering of absolution.
The tide abused the shore and pulled at her feet, beckoning her to an eternity of peace.
She ran wildly away from a world of rigorous existence and towards the serenity of the sea.
copyright 2007 book of Labyrinth of Life
They fled their land to find safety
instead, they found
cruel life wherever they lived
They've lost everything
because they're that way
Their aspirations crumbled
and they lost all their aspirations.
Something I strive
to be among the shattered
in honor of the broken
Thinking about all tears that would be shed
their world caves over them
their optimism turned into terror.
I wish to be with splintered people
the face-to-face challenge, people
the unseen, unheard, uninvolved
The type who strives to lurk in shadows
couldn't you trust me?
Why do they need not be alone?
Why must they weep to sleep?
All hope is lost to them
only darkness prevails
Alas, act in a purely unfazed manner
not having everything handy
They attempt to comprehend.
leaving from one paycheck to another
cheering and clapping sans graceful motions.
They weep until their eyes dry.
entirely on their own,
they can only wish for brighter days.
when they could find solace
As their emotions hardened into stones.
I am neutral about skin color
or their perceived sin
or their need to be flawless to win
I start with sight and sound
despite aspects or ground
should never be, where they're found.
Modern stupidity in innocence
stupidly that shoves them to survive
Fair pretense and pure all
illuminating blind minds
Luminousness of noble ideals
may aid the underprivileged
or bless, the broken-hearted.
To heal their wounded souls
to bestow hope to the desperate
to promise salvation
to wipe away their tears.
I am overwhelmed by such a plight
who can grasp their insight?
or even sense being near the site
they may offer love I could not bestow.
Ultimately, we are all flawed
suffocating, we stagger
costumes and snob jokes
Victims of other people's poking
no one's heart is empty.
Complexity creeps into our minds
may rush if others approach
each unspoken and broken
For the sake of finding
excluded role hiding
cruel passion ridding
Need to see well where you're sitting?
Written: October 22, 2022
On the splendorous crown of my curtained heart,
shimmering amidst the tinsels of the cerulean night,
you gleamed suffused with the sequins of the silver moon.
I tried to feel the tempting touch of your elusive charisma,
but you glided away out of my sight like the autumn cloud,
across my articulated sky I had carved only for you.
Down the verdant vale following my cascading heart,
your footprints traced the turquoise trail of longing.
As I walked on the deserted garden path going nowhere,
the remains of my love glowed in wilderness, I discerned,
enthralled in the mesmeric embrace of the moon dust,
drizzling with the patina of your grace, I saw veiled.
From the ebony edge of the opaque night falling stealthily,
storm clouds surged with flashing thunders of tearing strife,
splintered the screen of my sky studded with shards of dream.
From beneath the dispersed debris of draped desolation,
I gathered the yearning fragments of my shrouded heart.
December 23. 2020
Contest : Your Best Free Verse 2020
Sponsor : John Hamilton
When the opaque nights are starless,
and the gloomy days cloudy,
the journey through the vale of life
is not easy as it is meant to be.
When the wilted flowers turn pallid,
and the defoliated trees brown,
losing tantalizing trail of the garden,
in the unshed tears of toil hopes drown.
The rough pathway of life I travel
is sorely tortuous and the time finite,
at the end of the dark tunnel
I do not see the flicker of guiding light.
When I am in the desolate wasteland
in the stormy nights the destiny brings,
the shards of the splintered sky fall
all around me, I forlornly see.
I do not question the supreme designer,
and His ways of manifestation,
but pray for the glitter of the starry nights,
and the shower of the sunny days’ shine.
Without complaint I endure complacently
the transient time’s turbulence as His gift,
wait for the spring of blooming flowers,
and emerald trees to enliven the blessed me.
When under the ruins of the fallen sky
my broken dreams lie in the debris of despair,
crossing the dark corridor I travel within,
and in the soul I discover the divine light.
I surrender totally to His omnipresence,
and remain subservient to His benevolence,
I get the inner strength to hold up the sky,
and that is what keeps me going.
_________________
April 7, 2022
Contest : What Keeps Me Going
Sponsored by : Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer