Long Stampeded Poems
Long Stampeded Poems. Below are the most popular long Stampeded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stampeded poems by poem length and keyword.
When I was born I forgot the plasma cradle,
forgot the in-keepers daughter
who had suckled lips with pints of brewed chyme,
forgot the liquid yoke of the now unknown.
When I was born
the light was in other people’s eyes.
My father was faceless,
my mother the only tree in the forest.
Her warm lodging hands lifting to coddle
spills of milky thirsts into mew-shaped narrows.
When only a dim cask of sight
I began to wink the world into shapes
I buzzed and gurgled like bee in a drain.
I howled inside a germinal brain.
Skintight I bloomed around a query of flesh.
Early things showed up to crowd my eyes,
back-lit beings leaned over a bar of sound,
spoke in suds and froth.
Later --- who can tell
when ‘later’ becomes a thing?
I saw through a bat-winged door
daylight from night,
colors stampeded in to beg a drink.
Early things,
the green of leaf and lawn,
red and yellow plastic shakers
mouthed to sooth raw and runty wonders.
Incomprehensible snow on a wet nose.
Then that light-box of undeveloped things
fell apart only to come together.
I saw the faceless changing,
and where a garb of perception
fell to a fitting room floor
there I was
an early thing blinking and being.
I was not in a wrong place
Neither was it a wrong time when I met my fate
I was unarmed with my sweat’s worth
Another day’s dime in my pocket
I was confronted by a flood tide of an angry crowd
Their faces were unrecognizable, the voices too loud
I looked over my shoulder, there was no one in sight
Pointed accusing fingers rose, I started to take flight
It was too late to escape, the tide caught my feet
My whole body was stampeded and I failed to breathe
I tried to hang on to life but my arms where weak
I could not swim to safety, the shore was bleak
My defenseless body succumbed to the violence
In the attacking mob’s fuming eyes I saw hell’s darkness
As I gasped for breathe
My soul was unshackled from the earth
I ascended into the heavens in God’s hands
As my blood was dripping from my attackers palms
The vengeance became senseless, guilt swallowed their hearts
They left the scene heads down, could not look God in the eye
But I was now free like a bird
Rising above clouds the feeling transcends flying
I thought I would be dead
But on God’s right, I have just become undying
I cry for you now, you who are ladened with hate
I cry for you because the blood of the innocent is never drying
SAY NO TO MOB INJUSTICE
It is an injustice to an innocent soul, to your own soul and to all
Written: May 11, 2025, for contest by: Sara Jama
Quote: “Let the beauty of what you love be what you do. Sorrow prepares you for joy." By Rumi
********************
Sky unveils a deep, katabatic chasm
Fuchsia flames ignite blooms, slicing in layers of strife
Brilliant yantras reside in our mental spaces
As we boldly paint our stories upon chattered hearts
Harboring emotional shrapnel and sorrows.
A memory prison beckons us to descry
Heart-hyacinths, mysterious luna
As sapphire armor shields my spirit,
While magnolias, mist—bereft of magic, wafts rot in time.
I no longer wish to conform to the lamenters
I feel like a ghost playing pranks after being imprisoned
Surrounded by shameful shards and a gloomy silence
Soft sighs leave emotional marks on the skin
As I grieve and descend into the abyss.
Hope hatches a hopeful heart while malaise mourns
Struggle and bloom quarrel in my heart's heavy cloak
A kismet-woven quilt groans as it falls in harsh brooks
Wicked words scatter like venom in a broken glass.
Vehement rants veiled in vivid visions of the soul
Everything hurts, and shrapnel pierces my core
In a heated chaos, whispers sprout Kenospia kernels
In cosmic calls, I gain wild, wielding a quill to sever ties.
How can love bear pain or looming ruin to serve solace?
Heat fuels molten bronze as heaven whims.
Painful pillars tugged at my chest, luring my torn spirit
Lost lifesaving light wanes as lethal rise dims into the chasm.
Little hurts cross defects, sparks ignite a vast blaze
Torn souls find a stern shelter, and an icy stream kills chaos.
Shame glistens in the moonlight, and stampeded disease stings.
One legged evil brownie with a lopsided top hat
Was tired of crab legged crone thinking she was all that
Her feather and sword gave her instant jurisdiction
Her thought her followers fell under some addiction.
Her flag-waving ways were annoying to Buggy B Biff
She smelled like a cadaver for he had caught a whiff.
She was beyond ugly with twelve ruffled hideous boots
He put on his spurs, gun belts, and plaid bagpipe flutes.
She was stirring up the women. He saw his own wife!
Who was screeching and screaming, holding a silver knife.
He crept up slowly to Creelah, the crab-legged crone.
All he wanted her to do was to leave the women alone.
Bam! The trigger was pulled before he even realized.
He had shot the old skeleton dead, he quickly surmised.
The women stampeded the stage, and kicked him to death.
The last thought he had was, I should not have taken the meth.
The tall black tulips stood
Stood over the petunias
Purple petunias
Shining and swaying in the sun
Stretching
Stretching to the far horizon
Tall and proud the tulips stood
Over the purple blanket
The herd in the distance snorted
Scratched
And stampeded toward the tulips and petunias
A heard of white mean oxen
Stampeded
Stampeded over the tulips and petunias
Over the purple blanket
Viola’s Mother shouted
“Viola!
Viola, get under the table!
The table!”
And they all were covered
She and her brothers were covered
And her sisters were covered
Covered by the white cloth
And in deadly silence they waited
Waited
The white oxen trampled
Trampled the furniture
Burnt
Burnt the curtains and the houses
Banged
Banged up the piano
Destroyed
Destroyed up and down, right and left
Stole
Stole the precious things
Killed
Killed the neighbors
The young wide eyes
Black eyes
Did not understand why
Why
White oxen had so much hate
Why so much hate
For lovely black tulips and purple petunias
So many black tulips
Lay dead
Up and down, right and left
Dead
Other tulips fled along the railroad
Fled
Others lay bent and injured
Injured
Protecting the young petunias from the herd
Never
Never to speak of it again
Only
Only rising, rising
To survive
(published in Verse-Virtual in July 2021)
”He is a Poet”, It was said of him.
And so they sought in proof a poem, made alone for them.
A tome for all the ages, every eye, and every ear.
Words of witness dedicating prose, to those would hear.
So he complied. Rolled up his muscled sleeve of thought
and pounding words like blacksmith sought, to swing them to his side.
For what is poetry but words, like cattle in stampeded herds,
or formal, business-structured, Oh so neat,
every word and every sentence measured to complete.
Why, he could write for days on end, make poetry, or just pretend,
as long as everything would just combine,
to give the folks their simple endless rhyme.
But this is not a poem, as It has no heart.
True poems come, not on demand, but as with art,
they are created by, an inspirations’ spark;
then guided by one's passion to their universal mark.
For what is poetry but prayer, holy in its plea
to set the heart of every person soaring ever free.
These words… these very words he wrote. He wrote for you;
that you would know the beauty in the moments shared, so few.
He could not give more love to you, than you already own;
if he might open all the hearts and souls of angels shone.
He could not add one ounce to all the joy you might allow
within each heartbeat, where we hear, the voice of God somehow.
A voice that whispers to us all, the word we need to grow,
"Love", the only word, a poets’ heart need ever know.
Contented! My life was perfectly fine.
Unaware - I did not know I needed
anyone till my eyes met yours, divine;
my unsuspecting heart torn, stampeded,
beset by tantalizing emotion.
The room - you on one side, me the other -
unsettled in this reeling commotion,
taunted, I feel claustrophobic, smothered.
My heart - set ablaze by love. She whose calm
was undisturbable is shaken now.
Approach I must, your eyes are gentle balm,
their light calling beneath your kingly brow.
I start your way, you turn t'ward me. I bow
before your throne...who was content...till now.
Copyright, July 7,2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
If only it didn't just take a second to get to heaven
The devil's smiling, bet he didn't tell you it's the fast track to hell
My smile's only temporary, but so is this life sentence I've been given
I never was asked if I wanted to start living.
So I'm..
Hanging by a thread
My sanity is laughing at me
In the mirror, staring at the person
Who seems to be wandering
Empty and lost, like a penny on tails
Unlucky and left behind, story of a person
Such as mine.
My confusion is confused
Piece of mind tattered and loose
The love song from my heart, sings to the wind
Carrying on, I think it's never to end
Because it winds like the river
Occasionally winks and sparkles
Off a sunset reflection, searching for a tomorrow
But sometimes deep blue
Sad, like the pulsing veins
Of a heartbroken poet
Insane in the brain.
If only you could see me, then maybe.
If only you could save me, yeah then maybe.
Then maybe
Tears wouldn't run down the face and
Hurry away from the pain in the eyes
Of a person with nightmares
And teardrop filled skies.
A person who dreams of a better tomorrow
But memories are the chains
Bearing back her heart
And holding the jagged pieces together
From falling apart.
I'm lonely
Do you see my face?
I'm trying
To get a grip nowadays
Yeah you could help me
Get me out of this place
If only, yeah if only.
Hoping one day another
Will hear her song through the breeze
And linger back to the place
Where she kneels hopelessly
Desired to be glued together
Band aid, or tacked
She just wants to become whole again
And never look back.
Wants to trampled by love
Stampeded to the beat
Of love and loyalty
Someone she can keep.
Her broken smile will reign
And she'll rip stanzas from her soul
Trickling toxic tragedies
Painting pictures in your eyes
Watch her sorrows like a movie
On replay in your mind.
Her theatre is her torture chamber
Lashing you down to your raw memories
Don't look around, don't hide
Don't let your mistakes trouble your mind
Your blood is flowing
And you've still got time
To change the future
Is to change your mind
Maybe, then maybe.
You could save me
After you save yourself
Then you could help me
I've got nobody else, if only.
Yeah
If only.