Long Strangles Poems
Long Strangles Poems. Below are the most popular long Strangles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Strangles poems by poem length and keyword.
Strong emotions & passionate desires always dwell
in deep waters
Swim in this well of currents that flow freely even if
they're within close quarters
Dive deeply into shallow thoughts & mine your mind
for pearls of wisdom
Jewels are often just below the surface hidden in plain
sight but you don't see them
You can free them with your attention as observation
helps them breath
Cultivating the minds fertile soil frees up space for
them to breed
There's a need for us to grow toward the sky just like
trees
You stay stagnant when you lack the water that's
necessary for your seeds
Is it me, or is the world trapped in a field of dreams
full of weeds?
It strangles ideas before fruition so their fruit you
never see
Your fruitful mind longs for the freedom that birds
enjoy unencumbered
Free yourself from the things that bind your wings
& keep you tied to deep slumber
When you meet dread
Be unafraid
Fear lurks to feed
To consume need
Dare to live bold
More warm than cold
Fear strangles cheer
Watch faith flood sphere
Seek light in truth
Action moves proof
Fear spreads false blame
Play your own game
Be of pure mind
To act in kind
Fear cannot be
See what you see
Joy moves deep cheer
Live faith sincere
Fear is but fear
That much looks clear
Seek that sure light
Watch love bloom right
Fear is but dark
Gone as light sparks
Colours now tint
What grace now mints
Leon Enriquez
29 December 2017
Singapore
SEPTEMBER 2001, 9/11 New York
(Dedication: To Those Souls Who
Left Us So Abruptly That Day. RIP.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In crisp refrain:
Feel so much pain,
Loss felt again,
Tears in sure strains.
Fate hits the face:
In that sad place,
A tragic space,
Anchors odd grace.
The world awoke:
Watched terror yoke,
Huge fatal strokes,
In dying poke.
Yes mind still sees:
Madness set free,
Harsh tragedy,
News on TV.
Hijack of jets:
Terror did set,
Crash wrought dead bets,
Tears beyond wet.
So much of pain:
Now surge again,
A nightmare plain,
So many slain.
Such grim horror:
Tales of sorrow,
On the morrow,
Sad strokes borrow.
Our human tears:
Outbursts right here,
In fatal fears,
Drowning all cheer.
Pictures now flash:
Glimpses still dash,
That fatal crash,
Towers turned trash.
Terror strangles:
Burns and mangles,
Fear now shackles
Our mad tangles.
Here and now see:
Can love set free?
Can hurt hearts be
A kind story?
Leon Enriquez
11 September 2017
Singapore
THE IMMORTAL
“Once there was a tree, and she loved a little boy.”
Shel Silverstein, The Giving Tree
You will go to the land of Oblivion to remember. You will bring in the hands the faithful document of your calligram and the children's bread, as always, under the arm. You will turn to see, and there will not be a column of salt that will martyrize you the rest of the way. Your map is the snow, but, it is in the forest's fire that the Silverstein's tree awaits you, on its stump, sit down, your feet burn, your heart goes out through your mouth. Do not be afraid to take it out and lull it like a meek bird that trembles wounded. These things are and were written, but not as you will imagine the journey to the center of the seed. Go with peace, the root of your flesh and my flesh is hollow. Sometimes you will see orchids grow from their venom, but don't be afraid to take them to your chest and rub them as a symbol of your purity, they are helpless, they wither. Don't believe me a single word, shut me up with your back and follow the voice of the river peeking in the distance. Upon arrival, observe the water twitter, and the water birds that simulate fish but that nobody has seen and you will doubt. Perhaps it is an illusion, a deadly rant that collapses to mourn over the grave of heaven. A cold, cold in the neck, which strangles in the brain stem, and yes, produces a fine rain that transcends ghostly pain, and there, incline to its throbbing. Don't leave, the night waits intermittently, it loves you, it needs you in its orbit because you know its tunnels and without wings you fly. But it is not all. The absolute flash of a star at death is that; a poem that opens in solitude, in loneliness, and then, who reads?
#The_gun_shots_in_my_neighborhood
My heart bleeds, as my mind wonders, I wonder if it be not a mother's child at the receiving end, wondering if while I'm busy wondering there be a life that's being lost in the very moment, I wanna go and see, help maybe but what if I become a casualty, my conscience strangles me
The shots becomes consistent, I catch traumatic flashes, how long will this last, how long is long? When there longer be daughters and sisters to call?
My body start to shut, turning numb, the pain dement me, I wanna shout for help, but who must come for me ,when I too chose to be coward for that victim of the gunshots, my bloated silence, is now turning cancerous and contagious, everyone is now prone and at exposed danger, our not acting upon violence, busy ticking our names and calling us one after the other, that is a list of graves we are to fill
The blood to my heart start dropping, dripping in tiny drops, the strength in my body fades, palpitations crawls in, my sight start impairing, think I'm dying, a last shot is shot from my neighborhood, I'm waken from my ignorance death, these are the gun shots in my neighborhood
#Poetic_Ink
Subways swim underground
like whales swallowing dreams.
I sit blended into its whirring cavity
A hostage inside this vehicle transporting prisoners.
I see my face clinched in the window’s reflection
Shifting with blank gazes into stark musings
as the whine of electrical motors wail
like the Sirens from Homer’s Odyssey calling out,
seducing shipwrecked promises of my tomorrow.
Anger becomes sorrow that strangles my belly into fits.
Rocking in this womb like a transient clock
the tickety-tickety-tickety of the tracks
count the moments,
hours, days, years swiftly stolen-
by those who inhale the air I cannot breathe.
I am suffocating!
To keep from drowning
I clutch the rosary around my neck.
Kindred voyageurs reaching for hope surround my crucifix
palms up-with the penance of heartless ambiguity.
Such cruelty these smiles hide, disguising their comfort
from a sadness where justice might free me
to pacify their souls in the name of their God
A melting pot – a stew of skins-congregate in colors,
waiting with bones boiling in this racist broth that ache with loathing,
on the train of hungry whales that stalls tired and derailed.
I have sacrificed family, friends, and homeland to touch the soil
of this land of promise. But there is little harvest here.
This shallow ground fatigues my fate and sucks it dry
yielding barren fruits of truth
as empty as the desert from which I fled.
Stranded once more on this oasis of lies
this nomad searching for a more perfect life
Made in America.
August 8, 2021
A Brian Strand your pick Poetry Contest
Artist Credit: This poem was written for the image "Fata Morgana" by Swoon
The definition of Fata Morgana is: a mirage of multiple images that are distorted and magnified to resemble elaborate castles.
a girl a child a life of 12 years
a by stander an innocent with no sense of fear
coerced, bribed, begged and beckoned
kidnapped, stolen, beaten and threatened
the thoughts now that run deep through her head
is how soon will they find me or soon will i be dead
he gags her, he ties her, he drives her to his lair of death
her heart, her soul, her mind will soon be at rest
he picks her up and puts her in a cold damp room
shes scared as she shivers and ponders her doom
he needs her so he feeds her as he keeps her alive
so he takes her and he rapes her for his sexual thrive
as daylight draws near and the sun starts to rise
all you see are dry tears that flowed from her eyes
with bruises and cuts and blood from her thighs
she was pure no more in her killers eyes
he despised and hated what she had become
unknowingly ignoring what he himself done
his anger and temper begin to arise
as he contemplates death for this young girls demise
he cuts off the cord from the lamp on the desk
he strangles and chokes her until her very last breath
then he drives her and dumps her small body to rest
the next morning they find her with a note on her neck
saying I HAVE JUST STARTED SOMEONE IS NEXT!!!!
WISH UPON A STAR
eyes drawn upward —
like a candle on a cake
first birthday or too old
the lottery is billions upon billions
tickets bought
blowing dandelion seeds for surety
tremor of seedlings like flesh
burning your palm
wanting your death
one star stands out amidst the myriads
richer than all kings
waiting for the poor in spirit
to rejoice with open arms
while money strangles the sea
crushed and fluid plastic —
even the wisest heart pinched
the saint patiently waits
for the sweetest answer
placed in folded hands
and worn out knees
a Father smiles and grants
eternity and all the treasury
the inheritance overflows
a luckless star fizzles
the blessed one glows
10/20/2018
FIDEL Castro! the Diablo of Life succumbs to Death
Castro! the devil’s advocate
orchestrated hooligans.
Kept a destructive quest.
Turned a civil nation chaotic.
Death, destruction, and demoralizing tactics
Fell tears through the land.
Millions of cries hit the skies over Cuba.
This a cry that would never stop.
Endless shouts for mercy keeps climbing to God .
The terrifying Diablo lassoed hate into the children
and grew generations that altered this beautiful land.
This a man with demonic eyes.
He squeeze the air out of their lungs,
Without chains they were in chains.
burnt the innocence,
strangles those who oppose,
and drilled fear in the land.
Castro the Diablo of lives even in death.
© Al. Juman The "said" Poet 11/27/2016
Gnarled trees yawn under a starless sky
As a swift coldness mixes with the "howling wilderness,”
Crescendos until pure silence strangles the macabre atmosphere.
Preparing for the imminent journey, I place a slip of paper under an obsidian crystal,
Lay my favourite burgundy blouse upon a distressed bedframe.
The tick tock, tick tock of the clock cracks at 1:16 a.m.,
Stopping time in its tracks as the Harbinger draws near.
I gingerly, and without hesitation, kiss the love of my life on her forehead,
Careful not to wake her from her peaceful slumber.
No need for her to know that the last grains of sand are flowing through my hourglass.
When the dawn crests the fading indigo sky,
And the first birdsong of a new day floats through the breeze,
She will discover the heartbreak then.
But for now, just let her drift through dreamlands.
I don’t want to go, but my tenure in this existence is through.
I hear a knock—only I can hear—on the front door.
As I move slowly from room to room,
The unbearable physical pain dissolves.
I begin to feel so much lighter.
Opening the door, I look back at what I will leave behind.
He says, “Don’t worry, my child, you will be reunited with her in what feels like mere minutes,
For time as you know it doesn’t exist in the other realm.
Patience—peace everlasting is within reach.”