Long Squealing Poems
Long Squealing Poems. Below are the most popular long Squealing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Squealing poems by poem length and keyword.
Do come, my love, for I insist!
Within the darkest crevices of time, we fight, we cry, I die
As vision gives us knowledge, we descend farther into the grime
Curiouser and curiouser, we fall in dark crevices of time
Molded by imagination’s ink, the tentacles stretch outward
Singed from top to bottom, see the glorious coals sparkle
Yes, even before their completion into diamonds never comparable,
It is the very time in between the transformation that enchants the very soul
For in this time, I see the very worst of you,
How it shines without shame, aching to be tempered,
Crushing to prevail over its creators,
The tentacles squirming in hollow defense,
Ink spreading in the dark blue waters of deepest sorrow and agony
How your beak ever pecks upon its prey,
Dashingly exquisite, its sharpness—petulant in its purpose
And I say to you, as you destroy—come, for I shall not back away
When the weapons you hold fall upon my budding flesh
Growing despite the damages you have made
Come, my love, come!
See how my wounds have me, exalt me, trust me…
Into a reality I deeply fall, forcing you upon your knees
For how I know, through your destructing ways,
That together I will always make us be
Come, my love, for I die,
Heavy in the ecstasy of grief,
See how the fairy trees dance upon woes and lift hearts like plucked flowers
How demons with tempting eyes move as squealing moths crawl toward our fires
Wishing the burn of the coals, yet never touching such change
How the light floods through and through, to every dark corner and fissure
Licking the bonding surfaces with perfumed oils crackling
The black tentacles scatter outwards, forming a wall around the growing blaze
My eyes close—from those very eyes you came
Descending to ascend, my love you crave
Trusting the time I have tamed in last feat,
You rise into the everlasting restoration of our name
My son-in-law took my 15-year-old granddaughter for a driving lesson.
She has a permit so she needed an adult.
On the way back they stopped for ice cream, and she wanted to eat hers
so my son-in-law was driving back.
A truck tried to get in between my son-in-law’s car and a new Camaro.
This is a two lane road, but the truck was driving too fast to stop, so it sideswiped
them both.
My son-in-law said he watched the other driver in full police uniform get out of the
brand new Camaro. He thought “This is going to be good!”
The driver of the truck pulled out, squealing his tires.
The police officer told my son-in-law “I can’t go after him.
I just got off duty. Did you get his plate number?”
My son-in-law said, “It happened too fast. Didn’t you get it?”
My 15-year-old granddaughter held up a piece of paper.
“I got it,” she said.
Proud?
You bet.
We learned later that the hit and run driver is also only fifteen.
It will be years before
he drives again,
and I cannot imagine his parents’ delight or
the enthusiasm of his
uncle when he gets to make that phone call tonight to the child's parents.
A difficult lesson.
Especially when you hit-and-run.
I’m taking too long in here.
This cart I am trying to steer.
Is squealing around corners constantly.
There’s nothing except throwing groceries in endlessly.
The wet floor sign is laughing too hard.
I still need to buy a thank you card.
But words don’t exist in the confines of the store.
Just lines and scribbles galore!
Ribbons streaming from nowhere.
Like sadness from a tearful pear.
I could leave this store at any time.
But not without an angry lime.
Not without doing something odd.
Like catching bags of chips with a fishing rod.
Eating a pastry from a display.
Jumping around to avoid the fray.
I’m taking too long in this place.
Where I can feel the freezer section’s embrace.
The cold is not the only thing in me.
I wish everything was free.
Free like a smiling flower in the floral department.
Which is beautiful despite dismemberment.
I wish I was free too…
In this store with too many tears undue.
If you think the first restaurant was bad,
Well this one Is worse,
There’s a dead guy in the kitchen,
Brought in by the hearse.
Boogers in the burgers,
Flies are in the soup,
The smell of chicken clutter,
Is coming from the coup.
The cow is just a mooing,
And spitting in the fries,
The chicken is a cooking,
We can all hear her cries.
A boa constrictor is in the dishes,
Hissing at the cat,
The pig is just a squealing cause their pumping out his fat.
If you order a drink here,
You may live to regret,
For the first taste of wonder,
Is a rat “that little pest”!
I’ll put it plain and simple,
In fact, I’ll tell it well,
If you decide to keep eating here,
Surely you’ll go through hell.
A majestic banyan tree standing tall and free,
Ages old, witnessing my life's journey .
In the lane's corner, its presence stays,
Reminding me of trajectory of happiness and sorrows.
I reminisce sitting by my bunglow's windowpane,
Watching roots curled deep, like life's enduring strain.
Birds nesting high, their songs so sweet,
Leaves fluttering green, and children squealing with delight at your feet.
Unfazed by storms or scorching sun's rays,
You stand serene, teaching life's precious ways.
Symbolic of eternity, benevolent and true,
Your roots remind us of our origins anew.
Mystic aura surrounding you ,spiritual feelings rise,
In your shadow, life's lessons unfold before our eyes.
A grand old banyan tree wise and strong and free,
A testament to life's journey, for me.
Copy right @tej.patnaik
It all began in the summer of 1876, in which Brother Clive Werthings had returned from
feeding the sow. He walked through the kitchen door and into the morning light shining in from the window. With great distress he uttered the following:
“The eyes of the pigs came alive!
Their dead eyes and ordinary pig faces
We’re preaching to me! Squealing
Away with you, away with you! They shouted!
I swatted them with my hands
And as my hand swung towards their pinkish flesh
My fingers turned to hooves!
My arms shrunk to the size of their front legs!
It was blurry, muddy, and I could not think straight
And so I started to pray and I forgave God for all the things
I swore against him if he’d just release me now…
Brother Werthings took a deep sigh as his family of on-lookers watched breathlessly.
He had been to the asylum once, his mother thought in communal privacy with the others.
And now this, she thought. She watched him finish:
“And then he did. He released me.
The next moment I was on my feet
Staring at the stupid pigs.
I simply turned around and
Walked back into the house.
A new man.
Brother Werthings took a profound step forward, consequently out of the ray of sunlight coming in from the window. He then repeated in the shadow:
“I am a new man now.”
The family lived on, living out their lives: a proud ship, slowly rotting in the vast sea. And years from now, one looking out, or looking in, could never know the full truth regarding the validity of Brother Werthings’ statements.
Though on his deathbed, struck by tuberculosis, he demanded on his
tombstone be chiseled:
Clive Werthings
1847-1897
The Eyes Of The Pigs Came Alive!
cousins squealing with delight
hugged by tens of aunts and uncles
grandma’s tree with the bubble lights
Jesus stuff all over the place
Nativity scene not to be touched
Grabbed up by uncles and aunts
tickled by some
kissed and hugged by others
here comes Uncle Bill with his rough beard
Enduring it for the sake of everyone
Cookies in trays hither and yon
Chocolate candies only found at Christmas
Pine needle smells
Oranges in stockings
Joyous laughter as Mommy turns into a child again
Siblings fighting over cousins
Playing with grandma’s jewelry
Christmas music
Christmas joy
Christmas magic
kept out by nutters
in side
in sighs
inside
they would have to
kill to get passed
i hear the clacking in the buzz
wrong answer
pass go
Andrews
and drew
the second favourite card
get out of gaol pronounced jail
free like the son
that copied the mother
smothered
and lost in a
tunnel vision
why didn't someone use the glove to fix everything
well of course
the squeals of no equals squealing
i'm lost
sorry got to go one of the others
wants its turn
buy buying byes by
bees beeing bees in the begining begging on the breeze
yeah i know beeing is wrong
being fun knee
teah funny was meant two
What is a bove
and have i only seen one?
lerts all over
but never seen a single won
z's row as seas arose
buy a not her an otter
spelt an other weigh
I am never jealous, but theirs an evil in my eye
Step forward and cross me, and soon you'll wonder why
No matter where you are, it doesn't matter where you hide
For I'm the clever one, who'll find you and watch you slide
There are some things that you will never own, nor I, so read my words
For if I have to find a reason, my actions are seldom heard
These actions I speak about, are the watching of your life fade
And the squealing through your last breath, your body in dying cascade
I am never jealous, but theirs an evil in my eye
Step forward and dare to cross me, and soon you'll wonder why
The world is small enough, it takes nothing for me to try
I can only ever promise, take what is never yours, and you will rightly die
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/me-3.php
so often now
Boris the imbecilic
non party go
cry if you want too
you would cry too
if you happened to you
One kicking cat
one a rapist
i would vow never
to kick a ball again
The cheeks have turned
and i have cricked my neck
Andrew guilty but still they give him shelter
No wonder Harry got to
Fork my lines like a L
------------------------------I---- ------n
---------------------------------g- ---t----i
----------------------------------- -h--------n
----------------------------------- --------------g strike
A Sim
a lea
similarly assimilate a simile
S------------------------e it can get worse
--m-----------------l
---------------i
well going by our history
i am ashamed there is a you and me
i hope the cats and dogs reign
shh there goes another squealing
songs of panic
too late
or just too soon