Long Stab Poems
Long Stab Poems. Below are the most popular long Stab by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stab poems by poem length and keyword.
Neighborhood Gossip
He walks all alone and does evil things,
quietly making puppets walk without strings.
He's the only one who emerged from the wreck.
When you sleep, he'll stab you in the neck.
Am I Wiser Now?
I wanted to know what it all meant
so I visited the Asian continent.
Am I wiser now, back in my hometown?
I have jet lag and walk upside down.
Life Mission
The doctor gave me a slap and shook my head,
until he had fully scrambled my brain.
The nurse gave me a diaper and the doctor said,
"You've got eighty years to unscramble it again."
Unimpressed
He's well known and he's well read,
but I wouldn't be misled.
Even lettuce has a head.
Bee Orientation
Welcome, friend, to the hive
It's true, no one gets out alive,
but, before you're done,
you'll have lots of fun.
She is the Flower Amongst the Flowers
Like her fellow kind she is graceful as her petals reach for the morning sunlight
Soft and gentle in the cool morning breeze she sways
In that moment there is calmness that belies her truth
For she sheds the morning dew drops like the tears of someone you hold dear
Her long slender neck carries the heavy load which grows with time and maturity
If she had lips one would need to be cautious for she is laced with thorns
Thorns that can stab you whether wittingly or unwittingly and make you bleed
The cuts sharp and piercing and not something to be taken lightly
They will leave you in pain like a heart that has been torn
Her beginning is like most from a small acorn of a seed she begins to sprout
Only a glimpse of what she will ultimately become shows in those early days
But one day her long stem like the legs of a shapely woman will be firm and supple
Time will pass and she will outgrow many of her family
She will be more popular and hold a special place
When selected for meaning in people’s lives
Like the moods of a woman her colors are varied
And carry with them the potential for an array of emotions
The deepness of meaning representing the well of life
Sometimes half full and sometimes half empty but always refreshing
Each color part of a spectrum and the bounty of feelings it can bring
The folds of her blossom are complicated and intricate yet delicate
From a distance she stands out to your eye, her beauty catching your breath
Her shapeliness recognizable on sight like a familiar friend, relative or lover
She is the flower among flowers
She is the rose
Andreas Simic©
The good existed long before the bad
The bad can be turned into good if
You can change your attitude!
For now, your boldness may be one of passivity
But the magnitude of your purpose can change the bad!
Are you witty?
What a pity if you don’t know that
The bad can be turned into good!
Arrange your thoughts and have
A certain amount of gratitude for your life!
Some situations stab us like a sharp knife
But the art of life is controlling your emotions!
With your careful devotion to making things right
The bad can be turned into good.
Many burn with anger and
Then become a stranger in life
The good existed long before the bad
So why be mad
Instead, be glad because that
Which is sad can be turned into joy!
Arrange your thoughts now!
Be brave and remember that
Tomorrow always comes after the dark
Mark Frank
Copyright 2022
It’s not easy to be me,
I realized it now, even more.
I trust too soon,
Give people the benefit of the doubt.
End up, hurting.
Betrayed by their nature,
I am like Alice in wonderland.
Chasing an imagery friend.
I want to believe there is good in everyone.
But how could I?
You have more enemies than friends.
It sound so cliché.
But it’s true.
You are deceived by many.
Reached out a helping hand,
When they needed a friend.
To be stab in the back again.
I live in a world,
Where I am the fool.
To trust too easy.
~~
Oh sweet the forest path where I always meet tranquility,
Thoughts of peace that mingle with the sky above me;
A king has created a forest circle, a ring so calm,
An earthly realm, so heavenly and full of divinity and sanctity.
I draw out my muse and ponder in awe my life,
A princess born my parents tell me, now ageless is my spirit;
Roses red stab my fingers and I have bled into the earth,
And we the children of the world are free to find a path.
With him, the king and with prayers, soft, dim and whispered.
_______________________________
February 1, 2015
Poetry/Verse/Prayers Soft, Dim And Whispered
Copyright Protected, ID 02-637-480-01
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
Another morning drowned in the tar of nightmares,
Where hope commits suicide at the tip of a deceitful syringe.
Demons scream insults, eyes stab like blades,
And smiles are but traps with finely sharpened swords.
Humanity crumbles in the ashes of its own betrayals,
Their outstretched hand hides a blade, their blessing, a curse.
We pray to sterile idols, we sacrifice the soul for a few clicks,
And today’s kings rule on plastic thrones.
They say evil is the exception but I see it reign,
In the streets, in the homes, in the hearts, in the palaces.
I saw kindness strangled beneath the laughter of a cynical world,
I saw innocence stoned, sacrificed for aesthetics.
I believe no more but in my rage, my pain, my memory:
They alone do not betray me, they alone speak truth.
I wander through a desert of shadows, with no guide, no faith, no brother,
A voluntary exile from this planet rotting with war.
If the universe holds a scale, it tips toward decay,
And I, surviving on principle, sink deeper into the crack.
A victim's lament, a silent ordeal, one final truth:
This world is but a circus of demons in search of humanity.
Niel Charles was a regular thief, I hope ' not a killer?
Well he came to grief; Bury St Edmunds. Market town
June 2021 himself he found. Tryiing some doors at
private houses around, its what he was doing no need to spice it.'
A father and son surname King, went to confront him
And here is the thing,' one with a knife; the other a short sword
Both going seperate, is what I've took on board.. Some
Altercation must have ensued? Between Neil and David
King, the father as told in the news' Neil was fatally
Wounded and died.' David called the cops thirty eight
Seconds inside.) His son named Edward was he a part?
Of the death of Neil? That touches different hearts' Neil
Left a sister, who no doubt grieves.' Theres a mother and
Wife Heather..King who believes.' That this was all a tragic
Event..Yet the 'jail time given does not represent' a just
And fair handling, of the case as tried..ninteen years for
Edward on the inside, David got twenty one is it harsh? What
To think? Should they appeal? Look for a chink? Edward a
Store worker David he built..Now what a lot they have lost..
And a man was killed.' So much sadness in this affair,
Did the system deal with all aspects fair.? It calls for
Refection on our values in life, for the many decisions
That affect everyone on all sides.'
I think my problem is that to me love hasn't a definition
Love is a moment, a future, a scene
There is not one condition
Love isn't even always a human being
The door with white cracked paint squeaking
Door handle cold to the touch
Splintered wood floors creaking
A simple farmhouse yet there isn't much
Placing a new leather bible up on the fireplace
Next to the jar of wilted petals
Carefully placed on my grandmother's lace
Memories that don't sting like nettles
A slightly scratched record mumbles "Burn, Burn, Burn" by Zach Bryan
A candle burned down to the end of the wick dances back
Smoke graceful, looks like an angel flying
Staining the white ceiling, distracting from each little crack
My love comes back, boots wet from the morning grass
Still smelling like smoke and hay
Pouring whiskey into his favorite glass
A swinging bench lingering each morning we pray
Homemade bread in the oven, the scent weighing down this tiny home
The "just because" flowers catching morning sun
Hand made towels hanging on each handle, each carefully sewn
This house carries the scent of every loved one
The dog catching butterflies right outside these doors
Like how I hopefully caught loves eye
The grass as green as mine, whiskey warm as yours
A touch that doesn't send shivers down my spine, I don't have to ask why
Swing dancing in the rain
Laughing in the living room
Frolicking in the sun with this energy you just can't drain
Smelling the field of irises in full bloom
Love is the simple things
The things that just are beautiful without having to try
Love isn't something that stab and stings
It should hold you when you cry
Love is not desiring more than what already is
Love is what God gave us, it is everything we have seen
These lives are ours and we are his
First John, chapter four verse nineteen
On this radiant moment, a ceiling
of new moon beguiles the park-lane
where the breeze tosses its wings,
lit by a fluorescent in a haze I can't
comprehend--- a whip of angst encircles
my despair unrelenting to the beat
of a warm summer eve so glorious;
and yet, my spirit drowns from pain,
from the absence of love 's loss in ruins--
there is no recourse except tear
my life, amble alone in the stab of dusk;
Till a streetchild's voice blows through
my hardened ear-- soft, soothing--
that my inner tempest releases
a spark...his angelic presence rivering
through fresh mist alive with young eyes
dipped in joy: this waif without a name
offers a mangled grip of blooms, a smile
haunting as it is giving: in freeze of night,
I find one of earth's better angels
amidst this heartburst almost suspended by
time's daring request to snuff my hours!
Twins two headed, thy talents.
What on earth to say?
O kings majestic, paid rents?
Otherwise dismay!
Viralized infection?
Excuse means cut it out.
Downward thy direction?
Challenger lost his bout.
Ground, thy gold. First bought, then sold.
Polled and doubly old.
Warrior fierce, with hands a-cold?
Broken was the mold.
Things did not turn out right?
Well, smile on it awhile.
Counted stars in dim twilight!
Golem, please use thy guile.
Northward pointed all thy ways?
Dim like lingering days.
Stray not, travelers, from thy maze?
Carrion crows a-craze.
Flock of sun god, on thy left!
How to be bereft?
O dark chasm, stab to heft?
Open like a cleft!
Rock, thy rolling motion?
O portal, open wide.
What a quaintly notion!
Wormhole, thus woe betide!
Avalanches breaking free!
Devil seeking fee!
Dark fire blessings, may ye be!
Thunder o'er the sea!
Cold as harvest winters?
Autumn can have its chills.
Children can get splinters!
Grave robbers, paid thy bills?
Opopanax, thy delight?
Opium, pain is good?
Ore atop the hills of night!
Sirens sang of 'should'.
Doom, thy cloud. O burial shroud!
No use talking loud!
Widows, are thy heads a-bowed?
Fields of salt a-plowed...