Long Spurting Poems
Long Spurting Poems. Below are the most popular long Spurting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spurting poems by poem length and keyword.
Inspired by Glenn Hughes song "Save Me Tonight ( I'll Be Waiting)"
You’ve left me, traced the trail of melting mirage,
I feel deserted like the desolate sands of dune.
How sadly my pent-up words ‘I need you’
I say with despair, you do not know.
On the sighing sea made of billion drops of tear,
descends the somber shadow of night’s slate sky,
split by the flying flash of a shooting star,
dissolves like my memory in the horizon of oblivion.
The transient flame of devoured desire trajectory
furrows in my mind a blazing trail of yearning.
I can’t trace the track of the spurting star,
for it flies away like the flicker of your love.
I sleep at the desolate edge of the lonely night,
I haven’t seen you shine like a star in my sky,
for you disappear behind the cloud of trance.
I’ve lost you, for I didn’t dream enough.
Your essence is with me as my second shadow,
fused with the abysmal darkness of my soul.
How many candles my love lights for you,
I’m waiting with pining heart to tell you.
As you walk away from my waned wasteland,
you’ll find love, not yet lost in the wilderness.
If you stand by my side under the bejeweled sky,
you’ll see the moondust set us aglow.
Take me through the night to the sunburst dawn
to your meadow gleaming with dew of longing.
That’s when you’ll feel you’re in love.
I’ll be waiting for that day till the end of my time.
A poem penned in '61; loved by all, a favourite of mine
Performed by Bella, my sweetest grandchild, when at the tender age of nine
Draped head to toe in a purple shawl, with a purple hat plonked on her head
Stance bent forward, stick in hand; gazing in wonderment laughter tears I shed
For Bella parodies the art of growing old when she performs this hilarious skit
Her favourite part as she makes a start is reciting the line, ‘and I learn to spit’
With great aplomb her head held back she aims towards the sky
Holding her breath to gain her momentum spurting her spittle way up high…
Written 25th January 2019
Contest: Purple 2
Sponsor: Kevin Shaw
Contest: End Feb 2019
Sponsor: Brian Strand
"When I am an old woman I shall wear purple" a poem penned by English poet Jenny Joseph and is renowned and loved worldwide. If you do not already know it, I highly recommend you take a look, and hope it will bring a smile to your face whatever age you may be.
Life, like a practiced comedian on the stage
Keeps smiling and frowning in turn.
Under the embers of joy that spark from our hearts,
Lies the pulverized heap of charcoaled dreams!
Sometimes I find life, a tight rope walk
When a false step can prove so very fatal
And fear it might land me in some bottomless abyss
Demanding me to proceed with utmost caution
At such times, I raise my heart in prayer
For divine assistance and godly intervention
Sure, this abidance in God keeps me on
When life turns a trek through labyrinthine paths
While staying at the Himalayan heights of joy
Sometimes I feel hurled down into the nadir of despair
Soon after proudly flaunting my trophy
I see myself smashed into utter defeat….
When trials and sorrows, thus dominate my life
And joy, I find is only a passing phase,
I turn to inspirational books and biographies of men
Who have dared and won against all odds
And thus fuel my mind with fresh hope
Sometimes when I feel moody for no reason
And am weighed down by an inarticulate ache
I make a stroll into nature, to the silent shade of trees
To hear the nightingales sing, to see the bees collecting pollen
To feast on the beauty that surrounds,
And inhale the salubrious air that comes wafting
Then I am filled with a new vigor and renewed zest
Brightening every corner of my darkened mind
In all ups and downs, when life becomes full of care
I withdraw into a lonely corner with my pen and paper
And tap at the fountain springs of my imagination
When a cascade of feelings plunge down from my heart,
Spurting out in broken jets with or without rhyme
Unveiling inmost secrets and thoughts of joy or gloom
Then it quickly hands me down with a therapeutic effect
And the storm inside ceases and a divine calm settles
April.3. 2022
What Keeps Me Going Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Cecelia Hopkins Drewer
Woe quenches me with regret and sadness
Sick of the quarrels
You scorched me in Your wrath
War has just begun
Sick of the lies…their hope dries…
Devouring us alive like fire,
Spurting out from beneath us…
I can hear their cries
As I smell their fresh flesh crackling in the fire
I pick up my pace…RUN RUN away from the danger ahead of us
Our feet are dragging on the floor
No one can save us anymore…
Don’t hunt down my desires – I’m begging you for mercy!
You don’t understand
Where my heart naturally lands
LET GO OF MY HAND…
They’re dripping with sticky sweat
You make me awfully upset
You wanna bet?
Oh, our minds do pile up with worries and debts!
Our minds do pile up with past grief and regrets!
RUN RUN away from the living hell!
You ran away as I begin to fall away into the darkness
The thought of you hovers around my brain
Like a fly obsessed with a light bulb – am I really sane?
My mind spins round and round…without any sound…
I’m lost in my own maze…I kneel on the ground
And pray for forgiveness…
Shed radiance in my future dreams!
You swept away my sorrow
I must wait until tomorrow
I wish for that feeling of accomplishment
Of surviving the sleepless nights
I long for an adventure of excitement
My thoughts are like floating kites,
Drifting away into the sky…the black, gloomy sky…
Fighting relentlessly in my mind…
I’m trying to pray for hope in mind…
But, I feel that I’m rather…blind.
I AM BLOOD
I am blood, representing strong emotion
Pumping strongly from a distressed heart
I was merely a gentle and constant flow
Now, suddenly a geyser forcefully spurting
The cause is not ecstasy, as it is hurting
Whatever the reason, I would not know
I’m also the messenger sent at the start
And in time, all will gain a clearer notion
it’s not just blood when hearts pour out
More a vibration one can sense and feel
There are signs that some may detect
But with both eyes closed, it is clear
To see resonance that comes with fear
That stifling a thought cannot protect
And feeling raw emotion is very real
As knowing the truth dispels all doubt
Where Has All The Beauty Gone?
There is no time like the now times,
The ever-present blood-swooshing times.
Time again to surrender as a smitten lover surrenders,
To the never-ending rhapsodies of erotic impulses,
Which exhale as a listless leviathan exhales,
Basking in the swishing waters off the windy capes,
Naked, but kept hidden, in the unknown anterior rooms,
Of a hundred dark mansions in the draping hollows,
Encased with ethereal atmospheres and essences,
In stony gold, glittering emeralds, and smooth diamonds,
All dazzling the senses with spurting explosions of light,
Of helpless exaltations and cooing astonishments;
Now they’re seeking the old nights and the old embraces
In the gaping moonlight, amid intense and timid arousals;
Their blinking black eyes squinting from behind the papered walls,
Of dustless airless rooms with drooping statues of dead poets,
Alive still as they rise again in mythic intonations,
Making suave movements with pointing soft fingers,
Upon the moist nape of blond submitting desires.
Watching in spirit now as they once peeped at lovers;
Peeping and prying and peering from behind infinitesimal holes,
Never seen before by the living or the bereaved,
Nor by the delirious or the unjustly defamed;
Now they just bite us, the souls of the dead boys in blue.
And they watch us from behind those bare walls,
Those breathing twitching snarling walls.
So, where has all the beauty gone?
[ Poet’s Note : This is the second of two poems personifying Truth ]
NATURE OF TRUTH : Part Two
Truth shot point blank through
the centre of her forehead
blood spurting, soiling fine furs of
humanoids at play with slick lies
and shallow Hansard words
trying to acupuncture Truth
Blood that stains and weeps and
weeps
blood that runs and will not hide
Truth collapsing in a heap in a corner
rise up again !
pulled firmly by the hair with wide
open fingers
Truth rise and rise and rise
dance with Courage
find amethysts in hard hearts of fear
cradle them to Moon for blessing
connect with fluffy clouds where little
girls see God
Truth ! be washed by midnight rain
plait yourself softly with invisible links
where choralists sing falsettos in
unbroken voices
Truth then waltzes with Love
women with baby curls taste
hot bread
Truth springs up again and again
She rises from oceans and
mountains forever and ever
Right here !
©GhairoDanielsPoetryandSong1990
Water Hand Pump
I wonder whence the pipe goes?
Underground Niagra, Mississippi or Caspian Sea?
Working the Up-Down Handle like Punching a PIN,
A Subterranean ATM of Cool Crystal Quench,
Sometimes the Handle Ignores Rapid Work,
Just as Licking a Stamp, I Have to Prime,
Give to Get, Down Goes Wet, Up Comes Sublime,
As If Sensient, What Goes Around, It Understands,
Physics Doesn't Play Games, Invest the Good,
Even Salt Water Brings Up the Sweet,
Not Machine Psychology but Leather Swelling,
Sealing the Gap Between Bucket & Sub-Dwelling.
Now Primed, Pumping Towards the Ground,
Creates Cavity 'Tween this World & Maybe Hell,
A Spurting Fountain Results from the Well.
If Only All Life Were Clear & Transparent,
Nature's Dignity Comes from Innocence,
In Figuring Things Out, I Stand More Erect,
Glimpsing, Enacting Cause & Effect.
Written by Gail DeBole
On October 12, 2023
Updated on October 13, 2023
These words that pour out from thoughts.
Randomly without making patterns, at first.
OK. Sometimes making random patterns.
Spurting out and mixing like
Ingredients for a batter.
Swirls like nothing else.
Until cohesive in my mind.
Maybe not in yours.
Meaning in my world.
Sometimes in yours.
Meaning that sometimes escapes me
Until a future epiphany crystallizes.
Orange grapes floating in a sea of waves.
Meaning and importance that can be suspect.
See what I mean?
They all end up on this screen.
The blade cut deep
She died laughing
Death was a relief
Unlike her life
Riddled with betrayal
He noticed no blood flowing from her hateful body
He was always sure she was bloodless
She certainly lacked all human feeling
But even a witch like her would possess some blood
He bent down to check just as she was rising
Something in his brain registered
Sudden disbelief, sudden shock
Words in mouth froze
As the knife entered his neck
Spurting blood in all directions
His fingers tried to stem the flow
She watched him
Fascinated at the pattern, he was painting
So strange she thought
He always said she was the bloodless one.