Long Stunted Poems
Long Stunted Poems. Below are the most popular long Stunted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stunted poems by poem length and keyword.
Sun's rays glint through the glistening pines
Residual moisture imbibes the fawning heat
A cloak of needles hovers over the clandestine copse
Fertile fortress clothes the stunted flora
A whispering breeze bristles through the jaded cones
Resinous scent blankets the blanched meadow
Fondling fungus shrouds the damp floor
Glittering flora splices the distant, tawny terraces
Frothy owls hoot above the hoary mist
Foraging squirrels funnel through the fallen, nutty residue
Hollow bark clamors with the jackhammers of restive peckers
Decaying mantle rattles with the sounds of boring beetles
Cackling turkeys scour the ridges for autumn's latent seeds
Petulant peccaries prat and preen through the bleached undergrowth
Earth-toned stags nestle in the deep thickets
Rippling brook gurgles through the sunken hollow
1. Young, old, healthy, sick such plasticity
the clean or not, such flexibility
your side is always strong in the pull
for once, darkness should smile and overrule
none wants to be a part of this album
inevitable is its growing sum
your statue, no one will build and erect
even the bad hate your path so direct.
Chorus
To some, you snow job
with sweet berries of carelessness
to others you set a trap in a gorse
you’ve added my boy to your tinder
no matter your might
the rough road to your dungeon
will never be tarred.
2. Such innocent face you made a mug shot
against his sacred existence you plot
when a specific borderline door bangs
on everyone connected, sorrow pangs
he struggled hard but you labored the point
bit by bit and slowly, you cracked life’s joint
the market smiles to the sea through the wharf
when taken, life is stunted and a dwarf.
Chorus
To some, you snow job
with sweet berries of carelessness
to others you set a trap in a gorse
you’ve added my boy to your tinder
no matter your might
the rough road to your dungeon
will never be tarred.
3. Why is your cell a permanent station?
Why are you above human reaction?
You trace and follow him with dark time lords
so much pain has always been your known style
sits as the king of the dark for a while
sapping souls you now cruelly mechanize
more you want, your aim is not fertilized.
Chorus
To some, you snow job
with sweet berries of carelessness
to others you set a trap in a gorse
you’ve added my boy to your tinder
no matter your might
the rough road to your dungeon
will never be tarred.
a cog in the wheel and a log on the fire
of dreams I hallucinate unless the days
are visions of sleepless delusions of truth
its real and surreal when nights close in
I used to be a knight in shining armour
kissing the princess after conquests won
life matured and dreams changed their way
I became chipped wood shaved into pieces
abrasions of a sculpture unfit for purpose
a brigade of chainsaws stunted my growth
the forester ruled relentlessly and debrided
what was left of saplings and torn offshoots
roots failed to spring up from the underworld
weeds’ thorns cut deep into vulnerable skin
and festering wounds oozed poison at will
one day however a creek crept up from below
viscous tears gave me a springboard from arrest
I plunged in slow motion to follow the stream
when I reached the ocean I feared to submerge
too vicious were tides and the surf sucked me in
drowned me but spat me out ‘return to sender’
still dreaming I built a beach hut by a rock pool
drift wood sea shells and white flag of surrender
octopus’ arms released me to become a dolphin
no more do I have to save the world on my own
because a small marine fairy liked my abode
fixed my anchor with love passion and kindness
the sand quakes and spray caresses our bodies
embraces night terrors adopts them as friends
for honest companions can weather the storm
14th April 2021
stories that hurt
heal the soul
if your heart can listen
to a sky full of scribbles
stretched o'er a
sketchy road
you know I
never wanted a cancer story
but now I
know it's easier
to fight the kiss of death
than what eats my soul
for the withered spirit
of stunted dreams
who feels no pain
letting life trickle away
there is no cure
only
perched upon the precipice
of eternal night
the instinct for survival
staid death's yearning
from my
stony heart
not caring
somehow
made me care
made me care---ful
full of care
for you
for ours
it was
the almighty
grinding clanking
industrial whirring
particle accelerator
isolating protons
that cured me
but it felt like a
reckoning
day after day
after
ninety of them
and the crystal revelations
have not ceased
since the last Geiger counter beeps
comforted my soul
now
more than ever
my love
(and you ARE my love)
I need to give you the sun
and stop craving the darkness
yes
I made lots of windows
and plenty of room for your light
and never intended
it blind me so
but I pray fervently now
to the voice in my head
please put back the universe
for I am a fool
to believe
these derelict dreams
are my soul
and we live (and die)
together
with all that we touch
with ALL
that we touch
no
my love
(and you ARE my love)
you are my dream
and we only LIVE
together
to stop needing the ray of you
that shatters my darkness
is
to drown in a hopeless sea of binary code
.....slowly sliding off the refrigerator door
to put a keyboard to my head
and commit
poetry
for you my love
for you
Please pardon mine assertion
I dared to surmise
familiarity with me,
an avid reader and prolific writer
(mainly to appease personal pleasure)
thus upon embarking upon
reaching out, your curiosity piqued.
Daily onslaught from schoolyard
punkish bullies ace
thus, storybooks provided
haven to experience liberation
cowardice, fearfulness, insecurity
low opinion regarding base
sic selfhood writ large upon,
this then diminutive carapace,
I firmly believe stunted growth
with me hallowed face
non-verbal passive behavior
ideal fodder did grace
for carnivorous, ferocious,
incredulous, and malicious preface
to young adulthood oppressing
quiet soul as if race
sing existence qua
Wounded Knee leg uss see
(possibly trace sub bull
during fertilization,
conception, and accruing
gestation within, what
would become a ways
trill womb did) fetal wretch.
Mailer daemons choked bravery
absent courage did endear
grievous inner mission
self-starvation parents did fear,
(which evolved via gradations)
omitting first one repast to share
then two, and finally declining
sustenance into a lad opting to die
butta as a licensed practical nurse
(LPN) this then puny guy
became top priority,
and my mother resorted
to whipping high
lee nutritious concoctions
in tandem with
giving me iron injections
Catch a stone and throw a bone
Immortals sleep when you close your eyes
While the ants defy the sunshine
We're drowning in puddles
And paving roads over grave stones
They say hope is dead
Hope isn't dead
It led us out back and put a bullet in between our eyes
While chalk crumbs fall from our mouths
We're stunted by pretty boy marching bands
Filling our minds with rubbish
While the news tells us which shoes to buy
And who to hate
We're subservient to the pulse of irony
And nailed to a coffin
Of installed emotions
And programmed reactions
We're no longer a crowd of people
We're an army of robots
Deleting our feelings out of fear
Of offending the sunflowers
We sit before glowing screens
That erode our minds
We're trapped in the haze
As time ticks slowly by
We'll truly live our lives
In the seconds before we die
As we realize
We watched all our time burn away
In a lifetime debating human rights
And when the ground is shaking
It's another war in the making
We woke up this morning
To find water tickling our toes
As we fall beneath the waves
Somewhere in the background someone screams
But we can't hear
Over the sound of nobody caring
Catch a stone and throw a bone
Immortals wake when you open your eyes
As a bouncing baby boy
syne of tragic travails in the offing tolled
courtesy analogous bell think Pavlov's employ;
yours truly me mama's apron strings rolled
secure around stubby fingers brought joy
created and garnered webbed wold
between she who helped beget me thru ploy
constituting biological reproduction.
Peter Pan syndrome
not recognized as bonafide diagnosis
encapsulates mein kampf and hard times,
whereby mine childhood's end
dreaded, linkedin and thwarted adulthood
courtesy Anorexia nervosa
(long before said illness
the popular rage
during roaring (2000) twenties
mainly among females)
as feeble attempt to avoid
transitioning into manhood
evidenced today upon
cusp of twilight (zone) years,
when dark shadows (albeit psychological)
metaphorically house these lovely bones
id est twenty first century caveman
with stunted body, mind and spirit.
I feel invisibly chained
to mine early days of yore,
an idealized stage since nostalgia tore
at short lived mettlesome breastplate
activating devastating - festering civil war
leaving seeds of potential emasculation
these approximate three score
years since exiting birth canal,
when both parents in their prime
tickled pink and enthralled
with choice of lifelong paramour.
Renee Cardone therapist
associated with SpringFord school district
doxyme portal allows, enables,
and provides telemedicine
cited how I, a long haired
pencil necked geek aging baby boomer
essentially lives marginal existence
self, constricted, hobbled, quarantined...
since... majority of half dozen plus decades
brought forth upon terrestrial firmament
circumscribing outer limits,
when on January 13th, 19xx
one strong contraction
I ain't kidding ousted
future adverbial, he/him one wily wordsmith
makes period dick exclamation,
viz noun sensible, proverbial...,
who dangled me like a participle,
(hence obstetrician put the scare
of wuthering heights
within yours truly)
well seasoned whippersnapper,
who frolicked in summer re:
amidst the purple rain.
A debauchery seed into an arid soil was the start of you.
Although your roots spread deep and wide in this uninspiring
patch of earth.
The growth of your trunk is stunted by a loveless life.
The sap of you is diseased with obsession and narcissism.
Your thorny branches are gnarled and grow many thorny gnarled branches
that bear small hard bitter fruit that falls to the ground and feeds the worms.
In your dotage years, the earth and the sun and the way things went
rotted you completely.
The memory of you is afflicting, yet heartening.
copyright 2017 Looking At The Light From The Bottom Of The Lake
Saturday night, party for two
I decide I am going to try something new,
While everyone I know is drunk at a bar,
I decided to take a ride in my car,
Admire the night, gaze at the sky
Think about if I had wings, where I would fly,
God is always there, so I know I am not alone,
Reflecting on some truths, and how I have grown,
It’s easy to do things the same old way,
But that’s how you get stunted, and become cold and gray,
I have many desires, my soul gets inspired,
When I marvel at creation,
It’s like having my own radio station,
Tuning into glory, treasures all around,
From the furthest star
To the smallest ant on the ground,
In such a fast culture, we seldom stop to stare,
At beauty given to all people, a gift we can all share.
BY: Sabina
We Are The Stardust Men
Dedicated to T.S. Eliot
We are the stardust men,
the wayward stardust catching men,
dalliances of mind and shadow occur openly,
As we have cast off our anchors
And await the tidal sway,
The open expanse of deep landscape,
Beckons the siren call.
We are the seeing men, the blind
far-sighted beauty-seeking tin men;
repercussions of old laws and rituals,
like drowning petrels, hundreds of them,
dot the landscape.
Where, oh where in the excrement of human habitation,
the many-layered strata of ham-fisted movements
did we fall out of our fantasies,
like stones from the shallow well.
We are the stardust men, looking for an atomic biscuit.
We are the rocky and mortar men,
Made of skin and water and fear;
Ham-fisted soul searchers, dressed in layered strata,
The stardust men,
Wrapped in haze and cloud,
As smoke wafting upward, streaming outward,
Unlike the tides clockwork geared up and locked in,
the conditioned we, breaking free,
Leaping out of the trees;
We are the blue-sky looking men,
the running free, cloud-seeking breathing men,
out to find brazen perfumes in the stunted dooryard,
out to seek other floral arrangements in the embrace.
We are the stardust catchers,
The brazen thumb tappers upon lost trellises,
All nets and hooks, attempting to catch
an elusive ambiguity.