Long Strung along Poems
Long Strung along Poems. Below are the most popular long Strung along by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Strung along poems by poem length and keyword.
A banana peel littering the sidewalk
A candy wrapper lying carelessly on the parkway
An aluminum Coke can, crushed, by the side of the curb
Cigarette butts scattered randomly on the pavement
A plastic diaper stuffed into a trash container
A ballpoint pen, squished, bleeding in the roadway
A torn knitted glove abandoned on a park bench
Sunflower seed shells strung along a sandy beachfront trail
A careless remark, tossed out haphazardly, devastating a reputation
A promise broken, unintentionally, rattling around our soul
A lifetime of effort, squandered, forever unappreciated
Love spurned, nonchalantly, rending our fragile heartstrings
A spirit flies alone there's no love true without saying goodbye
soul searching deeply without sacrifice your gone
walking golden sands inside the heart all wars are won
Hand in hand slowly strolls on golden sands footprints left
as you're daylight played warm tricks our destiny ties us beyond
put under one spell lost in lonely you one beautiful memory
Drowning inside your Heaven drifting faraway tears
to hear the winds breathless whisper softly howls out your name
holding you dream magic as your voice enters feelings flow
An aura of beauty appeared within reality coloring a rainbow
or was it just a figment of imagination never existing
strung along believing in something real
Salted from the deep ocean waves crashing currents
rising emotions turning tides weeping is it wrong for me in the scrapyard
among'st twisted metal to want to hold you love one last time
(Terza Rima in unrhymed Tercet poetic format)
The unveiling confusion, infirmity,
the stars align with impunity.
To mock with signs
for seasons maligned in perpetuity.
The whore gives a peep-showing
no integrity, no humility.
The curtain draws open triple x,
Priestess in bold neon, font
sirens of the Media Multiplex
singing, dancing in seductive song.
Stars of staged and screened.
Alien dialect, speaking ambiguity,
all Nightmare at Christmas season long.
Oscars Wilde nativity clip clip scene.
Selling vintage vaults in Lots of salt,
veins of carotid archery,
Taught high strung looking back,
strung along by drafts for the daft;
washed with eros triggering
nostalgicfibromyocardier celebrity endorsery.
In Pyrotechnicolor- Fantasia -feastiality.
**** burns Fairytail obscenity,
for Toddlers, infants and Teens.
Minds in utter solution,
feeding abreast of endoctrinating ***********
matching the strike of keroscene tik tok meme.
Hookers-hooking the onlooking hungry
for Hunger Games
in Running Man, Bloodsport Jeans.
After: "Letter of Mithridates to Phraates, King of Parthia"
Historiae VI by Sallust
*****************************
I am a man more poisoned against than poisoning.
That’s my version anyhow, and I’m sticking to it.
Don’t blame me for having survived a few meals
Which others, less fortunate, could not.
All that doesn’t help me now with Pompey at my throat.
Pompey, plunderer and bully, who has enough wit
Only to command a Materialschlacht,
But that is child’s play with Rome’s support.
Rome! Scourge of cities, tribes, peoples, nations, all mankind,
Were not the Pillars of Hercules, the western shores
Sufficient for your ravenous appetite
That your eagle eyes scan my realm?
O Phraates, King of Parthia still unvanquished,
Had you but lent your ear to me when together we
Might have rid the East of this ill-begotten son
Of Mars. Small the credit, so great the loss!
For Rome, unchallenged, bestrides the Great Sea. Eastwards
He surveys my mountains and your rivers, groves and plains,
No doubt beyond. Remember Alexander,
Who sacked glorious Persepolis.
You vainly sue for peace, like credulous Philipp once
When fondly strung along with Rome’s promises of “pax”.
And what of Carthage? Where now her wealth of gold
And purple? Barren her poisoned lands!
Mind you, I’m not well-placed on a high moral pedestal
When it comes to poisoning, but limits I respect.
A few enemies now and then, I admit,
Died at my table. The ham was off!
But the earth is sacrosanct. I never salted fields,
For Rome’s venom is stronger than aught I ever brewed.
Where shall this end? Shall Rome vanquish all nations?
Shall all cower to his bloody sword?
But Rome! With surfeiting the eaten, not the eater,
Prevails. The whole world is, even for iron digestions,
Strong meat. It is the sun, not Romulus, whom
East and West obey. Helios rules.
With Rome to east and Rome to west, then two Romes are there,
And I do fear for man and earth. The approach of death
Lends men insight. I fought, I won, I lost in war.
My spirit is still king. Sirs, your health.
The last round! Like Carthage we lose to Rome the third round.
Once more is the Gordian knot in twain. Quirites,
The gods look down. Remember Alexander,
Who died of fever in Babylon!
Down a runway skybound
to cross a continent,
see from a window
a city fall away
with bright beads
strung along a coast,
then turning inland,
clumped townships
shrinking to solitary lights
sunk far apart
into hours
of featureless dark.
Disconnected
from the earth,
let the mind paint
the blank distances
and wander landscapes
of Namatjira's hills
and ghost gums
and photographic stills
of outback towns
and along railway lines
spearing the horizon
where a big sun
hemorrhages
into an evening sky.
Then settle back
and allow a familiar picture
to arise from behind closed eyes
of light patched office towers
and stacked apartments
with tall derricks
puncturing the night
as it slides by
in soundless haste.
And way below,
playing out on some
inner screen, follow
stuttering road signs
and arteries of red tail lights
leading to narrow alleys where,
as if funneled into an ear,
you hear the sound of sirens
being dragged
along hot, crowded streets.
In time, let the noise abate
until faces dissolve and life
slurries back into a thick
air conditioned hum.
Doze a little
then try to unpack
the images collaged
across the hours.
Nothing adheres.
What had once
held together seems
to fray and fall apart.
Feel a slight unease
as the engines begin
to throttle back and comence
the slow descent. There,
bubbled on the horizon,
see the glow of city lights
drawing in a converging arc
of flights like moths.
Notes.
Namatjira refers to great Australian and First Nation painter,
Albert Namatjira (1902 - 1959) famous for capturing central Australian landscape including the iconic Ghost Gum, a species of Eucalyptus tree. His work speaks to a deep spiritual connection to the land, something held by his people for well over 40,000 years.
Poem refers to flight across the continent of Australia, East to West, approx. distance 4000 km.
While some may write about their life
Wishing the facts we're more like fiction
Some draw off the lessons taught
Others with pieces missing
And then you have the happy clan
All good natured sages
Where they wine and dine on better times
Positively filling the pages
Either way it's okay with what they say
Not one write is wrong
Rain or shine each day riding the poetic wave
All strung along by the poem
From the simplest of words to those seldom heard
Whether you do or you don't rhyme
Comes packaged as the disease and also the cure
Darkness as well as the light
Some only write when they're down and empty
Filling the void with thoughts and words
Some when love is a-plenty
Begging those words to be heard
Either way it's okay with what they say
Not one write is wrong
Rain or shine each day riding the poetic wave
All strung along by the poem
My uncle took me fishing.
He’d smoke his favorite briar
Stuffing the cherry blend in with stubby
Welsh fingers more suitable for digging coal,
Than compacting mulched tobacco leaves.
A line taut between his index finger and his thumb,
He took a thready pulse of a line strung along the pole.
He told me stories of his growing up:
Painting my grandfather’s car ruined by feathers
Blown in from a cock who’d recently been plucked.
He would hand the pole to me to relight his pipe, he said.
And fumble among the hundred pocket vest
Pockets for his Zippo lighter
I liked surreptitiously to smell
And play endlessly with clicking of its top.
A trout would tug my line, bolt arching up
Above the water’s edge and topple back to tug again.
I’d play it back and forth until I played it up on shore.
And put it in a basket made of hardened wicker weave.
Some men fish for fishing's sake and others to make fishermen. (2/7/02)
At the end of another summer day
Rainbow of deflated asses crotches and breasts strung along our deck railing
Flail like a Tibetan prayer flag
Under the smoky umbrella of burgers and brats
Grilling for dinner
Souls adrift from their left behind soaked skin
The sleeves and pantlegs re-begin
Arms and legs jog in place
In the cool lungs of a dry evening breeze
Moon sheen of shoulders and knees
Minutes before dawn
Creased pressed and ready for a new day
They kick and whisper rearrange themselves by order
A titter of
Generations past present and future
Here the people come!
Grandpa and grandma moms and dads sisters brothers
An army of kids teenagers to toddlers
Hurray! One by one
Like rays sprung from the sun
Once again
Off
The dried suits are plucked
Hot bodies slip back into place
Here we go
Body and soul
Made whole for another summer day
Of swimming.
Once upon a Christmas Time
I was happy you were mine
Now this holiday is sad
Thinking of the love we had
That you threw away like trash
Making me fall hard and crash
Breaking me from outside in
How do I start to begin
Unwrapping the pain you left
Leaving me with no regret
The bows of love that made me smile
Are shredded ribbons in a pile
The paper signed with both our names
Is now burning in the flames
The present of my love each year
Was torn open with hate, not care
I was the star that tried to shine
And sparkle when you were mine
Stringing popcorn all night long
Until my love you strung along
Songs of joy and laughter sung
Till your voice of lying stung
Snowmen built up from the ground
Like our life till it fell down
Hot chocolate with marshmallows
Can't keep me warm from the cold
That froze my heart into ice
Now nothing can crack or slice
It back to a hot beating rhythm
My mind can no longer fathom
It melting ever again
I am giving up on men
I love you, what a lie!
I could see the strain on your face
when you uttered those words
Love’s reflection is about joy,
you looked like a man who just lost his best friend,
that’s probably what you thought
when you said goodbye to your bachelorhood...
alas don’t worry, I’m not blind,
I sensed the tacit words,all over your face
I’m tired of being strung along
I’m not a puppet and you’re not my master…
tell me you love me the one minute
the next you’re hanging on some other
woman’s lips as if you’re breathing patterns depend on it!!
It’s over, I’m done! Pack up and go on your tombstone,
the words liar and cheat will be embedded in bold!!