Long Suction Poems
Long Suction Poems. Below are the most popular long Suction by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Suction poems by poem length and keyword.
When our volcano erupts
Love-like lava
Lava-like love
Has begun to flood
Lipstick kisses, our hot river
Hug quakes
Thighs sigh, thrust, quiver
Our fountain will always shower, deliver
Zeus commanded Venus,
And placed us on a blue Zenith
Atop our own mound,
Not a living shadow around
Undiscovered map,
Completely oblivious
If we get lost, in my pocket,
I have a compass
The moon is in its' gibbous
Then the rainbow market of flowers
Darkened down beneath
Turned themselves green ugly
Wind began to curse and cuss
There will be no dividing or conquering us
Legs, like roots
Arms, wrapped and suction like the octopus
The closest star to this globe, rose
So far yet so close
Fought against the waves
Victorious again, against our atmosphere
Peeked along the equator
As it did for the Pagans and Romans
Ancient times and now..........
Two thousand sixteen years later
I place it in your palm my lava lover
We'll scale back up our volcano
When the sun climbs down for its' slumber
Bathe in our lava love forever
Written: September 15, 2025, for a contest sponsored by John Lawless
*********
Perhaps it was never love—
just a fipple of breath in velvet dusk,
a suction of names unspoken,
burnished by the stygian hush
between your glance and mine.
Perhaps the ossuary sang first—
an aria of alabaster bones,
each note a necrotic lullaby.
We writhed in the molten ache,
palliating truth with ephemera,
inveigled by the aureate hush
of what we dared not name.
Perhaps this is the Desideratum—
a triptych of sacred forgetting,
Lethe in a chalice of dedication,
The hex of hope is still undulating
beneath our slack-jawed silence.
(hub bur rigid version.)
All la names bespeaking deity froom
Noah Mo' Room India Arc
of Covenant to Blood
(sweat and tears) of
San Gennaro devout wowed,
and/or Turin shroud
consonantly demonstrably,
desperately, faintly, glumly
yet plaintively, muttered aloud,
no evading the steadily avowed
Atheist approaching funnel
(dum mental) stormy cloud,
cuz far as the eye could see -
at least by this Beatle browed
bipedal hominid (north, south,
east, and west),
the conical, demoniacal,
and elliptical endowed
sky high reversed cone, bow wowed
wailing 10,000 maniacs +
same number of banshees
wove weft and white
across wide whirled web
whereat, the black vortex
vacuumed everything
in sight (chowed
down) with loud violent row
dee earsplitting sound everything
within a vast path got plowed
obliterated, and annihilated proud
lee into bajillion smithereens,
hence mine entire being
held spellbindingly agog
frozen in place ruff akin
to well trained dog
without a chance to bark a blog
mired stock still courtesy, sans
extreme fear comp
pounded (zero apr) via
quintessential supreme tear
roar immovable paralysis
plus helpless as pollywog
lacking seizure of critical
whatsapp cerebral cog
as if blinded by a mental fog,
cuz nothing withstood
the incalculable suction
emitting barrage of sounds -
hmm...methinks or imagined,
I heard cry of a hog
amidst the pandemonium,
plus uproarious, ominous,
and insidious howl,
though still some
scant miles removed,
the deafening roar
felt like top of my head
blasted unable to jog
free (like a bajillion trained
thundering monsters at log
er heads) these screaming
quasi nemesis seemingly
horrifically, and directly
into my tender ears.
Across the daily bridge I stoop,
to gaze upon the world,
always with the option overhead,
two faces of the same mint,
or just as likely liquid mirror,
in the very widest sense,
but such ad hoc aspects wanting,
further clarity as time unfolds,
ripple of the passing current,
flutter from a proud human voice,
stir in the second musings,
the sort that flit erratically,
with side to side dawn chanson,
Am I lost to early groundswell?
when observing without ruse,
at the recess of each bend,
as I journey through the morn,
with that omniscient perk,
one hailed as living wonder,
which far too few revel in,
despite its spectrum burst,
those clouds of energy,
magically arouse contagion boundless,
catchment hub without a catch,
spiral vim catcher taking hold,
keep that thought circulating,
hold that second, clutch that minute,
grasp the hour, stake your day,
season doesn’t matter at this point,
exhilarated cluster like a roundabout,
whirring, spinning, care free,
vortex, suction cup, tantaliser,
ample flourish latest vocal trend,
inhibition, tight restraint, closed lip,
inapt, not welcome, not here,
if only life zest would prevail,
magnet for enthusiast of whom,
the myriads exalt subliminally,
I swear an oath to cosmos,
unswerving in my fervor
Whit wet Vetted Splendour...
Pervaded mounded jeweled ground
gunmetal sky incessantly
pelted and did pound
asper staccato round
arhythmic, emphatic, melodic sound
to this clown,
who felt housebound
as precipitation reigned down.
steady rain quintessentially
patterned oodles of necklaced
mini mellow marsh lands
wee hour early this morn
after drenching rain abated,
I set foot upon the sponge
bobbing soaked boggy badlands
highland manor saturated
feet immediately sank deep
quickly submerged whole body
subterranean suction suffocated
without objection relinquished
superfluous lifesource (mine)
feeble writer (me)
oblivious pathetic simian
high jinxed human
resigned purposelessness necessitated
liberating meaningless NON GMO
gluten/ monosodium glutamate
free corporeal essence
hungrily gulped into Gaia's maw
vanished without a trace
transubstantiated (uber vacuumed)
wrought into indiscriminate
requisitioned, repurposed, reincarnated,
recycled carbon based materials,
where sedimentary processes metamorphosed
formerly insignificant (lava lee
liquidated louche) passively
recalcitrant know-nothing
dynamic forces glommed,
within whirling wide
webbed sized cauldron
crucible distilled basic
constituent building blocks
combining deciduous non
bull leaf ving Earthling
(poet wannabe) unrecognizable
disseminating Harris jackknifed ludicrous
johnny come lately
legend (nixed son)
across avast subterranean
shiftless tectonic world
property, asper oblate spheroid
incorporated within manifold biosphere
improbable far fetched fluke
identical likeness of self,
(nor any deceased life replicated)
will ever trod this planet again!
"The silent cry of a newborn, the one that no one hears.
Can bring a grown man to his knees trembling with fear."
Every new parent has a fear of making a mistake
The combination of excitement and exhaustion is an emotional roller coaster
There is nothing that compares to giving birth to a newborn that cries silently.
It begins at the hospital, the parents can not rest.
They must learn to be nurses, therapists, special need advocates, and pharmacy techs.
They have to know what it took years of schooling for others to learn before they take their baby home.
At home fear sets in. Mom and Dad have no time for each other.
Their house is always busy with compassionate strangers coming in and out.
You can't spend a day cuddling with your newborn in yellow pajamas and messy hair.
If you finally find a moment to sip your cold coffee from the morning,
That's when it will happen.
You haven't checked the crib for half an hour so you rush to her side
Beads of sweat around her collar, moisture's matted down her hair.
Her mouth is open wide and her tongue is quivering but there is no sound.
Her face is not flushed, her tear-stained cheeks are bright red.
Her tiny fists are clenched and white and her legs are shaking.
You wonder if she is just upset or is something hurting.
She has a soiled diaper but that will have to wait.
You can't give her a bottle or take her to your breast.
Your newborn baby is fed through a tube leading to her stomach.
You can't risk the chance of aspiration which to your recollection means fluid in the lungs.
Step by step you suction the mucous that has built up in her trach.
Her eyes open wide are piercing right through your heart.
Finally, she relaxes her tiny body goes limp in your arms.
An occasional gasp is her only movement as she has fallen asleep.
There was no time to console her and now you sit and hold her.
Thanking God for every breath she takes.
02/01/2021
The quote is by this poet.
Written for: Break My Heart, Why Don’t Cha Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Is it stress,
or loss, despair and survival
we must discuss.
Stress is just the symptom
of a universe intent to destroy the individual
before it births new life. It sends the dogs
after us, after the holocaust, in the tattered ruins
of our city.
There is this despair and expectation
of destruction, but somewhere there is still also
simple sky blue,
flowers among railroad ties,
true love between sexual partners.
Is it sex,
or love, companionship and reliableness
we must expect.
Sex, only eternally laying
my head at your queynt, can interest me sometimes.
Your legs lead to a pleasure that seems infinite
and smells perfect.
So there is this tenderness, a
connection like a suction to the biological, ephemeral
as snow on the ground,
one elk in aspen,
death and nothing less.
he hides himself into an empty wrapper
a hollow shell that remained after the storm
where life once resided before the heavy toll
of addiction arrogance destruction hurt and
the combustive mixture of void and destruction
an all-inclusive ticket to stagnant displeasure
a homeless abode untenanted wreck
futile worthlessness vacant desolation
disconnected and detached he does not half fill
the cover where isolation has taken his place
and shielded nothingness evaporates from his mind
in which melancholy oozes lost hope
a sheathed vacuum with suction pump attached
portrays the only reminder of motion and living
he feels very little but pictures himself
as Dali´s warped melted clock
a time bomb disguised as a land mine
for good expandable measure of meaning
12 November 2023
"Lord, grant Your divine healing..."
This is my spirit's plea
Now that I'm confronted with my Dad's groaning angst
While he writhes in pain, struggling to express himself
Here in the Intensive Care Unit which is his haven this Christmas season.
"Lord, your miraculous healing is needed..."
This is my soul's whining
Whenever I see my Dad's agonizing response
Toward seemingly endless needle pricks, catheter changes, suction insertions
As he strives, yet suffering, to seek relief.
"Lord, pour out your healing that's merciful..."
This is my constant prayer
Since my Dad's afflicting blood sugar count
Along unstable blood pressure rise
Oppresses him grievously midst laboured breathing.
"Lord, Your gracious healing* is besought..."
This is my humble cry
With faith in His power for my Dad's health-restoration
So as to recuperate from his stroke
Toward praise-filled thanksgiving and joyous homecoming.
*Luke 9:11 ... He (Jesus Christ) received them, and spake unto them of the kingdom of God, and healed them that had need of healing.
December 24, 2018
7th place, "LET 'ER RIP #2" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John lawless; judged on 12/29/2018.
When the ocean swells the boat of life shreds shoddy anchor line
I put to words from pen and keyboard what matters most in time
and seek a buoy a float some flotsam dejected towards the storm
then hope for tides for rudder oars and compass worn and torn
Cannot want not pretend the sails are healthy all is mighty fine
attempt to find refuge shelter calmer waters in poetry and rhyme
listen to the climate forecast watch the stars that seem forlorn
seek charts and words’ expression transposing dusk to dawn
The waves and swelling torrents thunder remain whatever spell
fills sadness metaphors lost rhythm alliterations sent from hell
The weather remains whether or not I scribe my melody and tune
cacophonies or lonely harmony despondence hewn and strewn
In sink or out of kilter self soothing or shouting angrily is what I got
some scribbles join some dots to pointed hooks not to loose the plot
Apocalypse may find its way or not when Armageddon calls seduction
yet poetry verse narrative or stories fend of that teasing deadly suction
The worldly whirlpool will not succumb or surface because I put on paper
destruction mindless soul depression timid aspirations hopes or vapour
when steam cannot be rescued the pit and bottom loom away from shore
But writing keeps me just above the water line and I cannot really ask for
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