Long Suffocation Poems
Long Suffocation Poems. Below are the most popular long Suffocation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Suffocation poems by poem length and keyword.
Hidden views exist, even for the best cameraman.
When it comes to hard labour, I’m incompetent.
The weight I carry, undermined due to stature.
Inside are struggles you can’t capture.
The day of difference unknown, like that of the rapture.
Have you ever had to breathe greatness for survival,
in environments where suffocation is natural?
When you swear to make it,
true love is kept as collateral.
But I’ve seen a king get poisoned at a festival.
I ponder and ponder.
Once a reject can’t be a failure.
If led astray, I’ll drown the sailor,
put his name on my cloth—
told my tailor.
As a reminder, I’ll do anything
to breathe greatness.
Form:
I don't know why
our world is going to die
air is in suffocation
light is in pollution
water is in constipation
suffering from optical illusion
man's ears eat
nose drinks and eyes talk
No argument God will brook
He used to look at me straight into my gloomy eyes,
In his sweet words and kisses and in his lovely arms I felt so nice;
We were filled with gladness, with promises and future plans,
Until I’ve found out that he’s a sky and I’m just a piece of land.
He is a sun who’s shining brightly into the limelight,
While I’m a little star aspiring to shine both day and night;
He’s a prince who cannot eat without his golden spoon
While I use pottery in yeoman’s house who is forlorn.
How can a lard coagulate with water?
If lightning strikes as prominent as the roar of thunder?
How can it be the two of us if there are many barriers?
I’m crying inside and I need prayers to become stronger.
Everything about you will all remain in my dreams,
Those promises of you, I’ll sing always in my mind as hymns;
I want to blame myself in possession of this loving heart,
Which little by little is killing me in suffocation all throughout.
July 6, 2013 2.23pm
( a poem not posted before for a contest. a fiction)
NOT FOR A CONTEST
I am dreaming the past
Past when KBC was the only station
Each morning started with the anthem of the nation
We had to know your intention
Before saying anything through the station
Each anchor had a level of education
While talent was just an addition
Any deviation
Captured the important attention
Of the head of the nation
Dreaming my past
Is all I want to do last
Streams of dreams I rather forget fast
Like dreams from my father
That choices have consequences
A grammatical sentence that became our sentence
Is every correctly stated statement correct?
This kind that litters my mind
Making me bitter
Tearing my heart into litres of tears
These dreams make me shy
Shy to try mention my name
My name that brings me shame
Shame I cant tame
Cant tame because my mind is lame
Tell me why my kind cant cry
When all I dream are tongues of fire
From gangs on hire
With orders from higher
Higher rot that burns like fire.
Dreaming that I cant have money in my pocket
Without getting something in their jacket
Vampires so scary
Scattered in my neighborhood
Thirsty for the last drop of my blood
Limiting my limitless potential
Potential so essential
For resource mobilization
With equal allocation not hurting expectation
For relocation before suffocation.
Dreams to revitalize my generation
A possible solution for this situation
In transformation of my nation
To grow without corruption
That is like sugar
Sweeter it becomes
And disaster it welcomes
But I dare dreams
Of peaceful elections
An end to preventable infections
Through certified injections
And an education without leakage
As a privilege
For everyone in my village
Laying my head on the pillow
Feels like my heart becomes hollow
From the beams of dreams that follow
Makes me want to jump from the window
And fall on the ground so low
Flickering pain into my bone marrow
Afraid it could happen again on the morrow
What do you see in your dreams?
Streams of dreams that my head cant keep
Make me wish for beams of dreams to turn the leaf
Of people who have a resolve and a belief
That we are better together
And we need each other
Without a bother
Of clannism
Of tribalism
Of racism
But a nation of inclusion
By implementation of all legislation
In word and spirit
Envisioned in our constitution
That beams our dream.
I am writing you in purple. Not the word—
the taste: that iron bite of violet petals
crushed between molars, the way they stick
to the roof of the mouth like communion wafers
dipped in wine gone slightly wrong. You understand,
of course, that I can’t help but eat
each sentence as I write it. The ink
bleeds grape-skin bitterness across my tongue,
tannins puckering the soft flesh
where speech should live.
The envelope waits on my desk, fat
with pages I’ve been licking at the edges.
Violet. That’s the specific shade
of metal—not silver, not quite lead—
the taste of costume jewelry warming
against a throat, or blood
when you’ve bitten down too hard inside your cheek
and tried to hide it, swallowing.
I seal this letter with my teeth.
The glue tastes like the end of something:
overripe, about to split, that moment
when a grape becomes obscene
in its sweetness, when fermentation starts
inside the skin and everything turns
to wine or vinegar—there’s hardly
any difference, really, just time
and what you’re willing to call it.
You’ll taste this when you open it.
The paper will dissolve like sugar
steeped too long, and purple
will coat your mouth for days: brutal,
gorgeous, the specific flavor of a color
that exists between a bruise
and a flower, between the blue
of suffocation and the red of wanting.
I’m sorry. I know you asked for yellow.
But yellow tastes like cowardice and butter,
and I have only purple left to give—
this bitter sweetness, medicinal and lush,
the aftertaste of beauty
or of poison. Sometimes
even I can’t tell which
Snow gathered momentum to a chorus of confusion
Echoes of tortuous silence
A vacuum of restless reprieve
Like moist drift sand it spread its treacherous message
Opened trap doors of innocence
Coalesced sinkhole’s dredged mud
Answering unspoken questions it decanted crystals of pain
Touched sentient clouds in transit
Sounded fog horns in distant mist
Before spring melted its steadfast grip on a slippery path
Night fell onto wild thunderous icicles for
Shadows beginnings and irretrievable end
Under cover of ice in the underworld of impermanent frost
The journey man brushed defeat
In cold blood’s sad circular flow
Endless void refused to halt rock bottom’s crushing arrest
Torched dreams once light faded
Shed darkness oblivion and surrender
Snow boots and shoe strings draped a noose of relief
Suffocation took one ultimate breath
Embraced nothingness and final demise
And yet the midnight sun sent just one single glimmering ray
A threadbare rope ladder of shivering hope to guide
Him to remove the pick axe from a lost mindless brain
A comet sparked fire from rage and ember from blizzards
The moon croaked on its mocking laughter’s disguise
For an avalanche had protected a glimpse of his soul
22nd January 2020
Who has the power.? Those who will apply power, gain more power.' And begin to
Appreciate how to exersize the power so
Far realised.' Reach out for power to
achieve
A full release.' Of files anywhere that have
Abusive content..Also there are records that are not in government files.' If anyone
Has such and witnesses, copy the photos
And other evidence, and share multiple of these among your group, and conduct a mass release to alternative media sources
Followed by mainstream outfits and pertinent law firms asking for their appraisal..Smash through the suffocation
Maybe.? awaken the powerful masses of
People ( who must realise they can use their voice ) and multiply their power and
Reach.)
The people of this world are like the three butterflies in front of a candle's flame.
The first one went closer and said:I know about love.
The second one touched the flame lightly with his wings and said:
I know how love's fire can burn.
The third one threw himself into the heart of the flame and was consumed.
The alone knows what true love is.
Rumi
I sit alone in a silent field of fairness,
under saffron rays kissing sunflower serenity,
among dawn's daisies and dusk's dandelions -
watching buds floating away with whisking winds.
Fate does not favour my quest to soar freely.
In a meadow of humanity's betraying breaths,
our buttercup souls become ambushed by a suffocation of sighs.
When there is no justice in spiteful judgement,
visions of Basilisk slither with a deadly gaze.
Envious eyes poisoned by potions of venom,
abuse the selfless mistress of my garden's muse -
but without Eve there would be no Adam nor Eden.
Weeping on the grave of her past self,
her fatigued spirit struggles to fight and rise.
I watch darkness ascend in springtime,
when her mind portrays a veil in the misery of mist.
I feel like a helpless flame burning in ivory wax.
Untreated wounds with time festering
into an ebony existence of self deprecation.
I can see butterfly hunters with their narcissistic nets,
chasing my imperfectly perfect empress of empathy.
Her heart hungers for a plethora of petals,
to hover from a ruby rose to lotuses of liberty,
but predatory birds like harlots and hussies,
have lured her into a withering winter colony of thorns.
Sorrow stitched her eyes closed with merlot thread,
as her sanity sits upon the edge of heaven and hell.
The Devil wears a hat with an emblem of her sins.
The bewitching conspiracy of his crimson eyes,
tempting to massacre the magnificence
of her invisible crystal wings of bronze and gold.
In a martyrdom of self-sacrifice,
love reminds her that kindness glows softly like fireflies,
as she tries to find light in a tunnel of lost thoughts.
The universe echoes her cosmic whispers of life,
as psychedelic ink shimmers like starlight in her veins,
pouring compassion into a selfish blank canvas of hearts.
Cherry blossoms tint the air pink
and she's looking at the world through their gaze,
but knows like everything,
their fragile beauty is only momentary.
Street alley stalls
Tourist bazaar fare;
Souvenirs to go
~~~~~~~~~
Seasonal fruit
A yearly dessert;
Duku escapade
~~~~~~~~~
Old colonial shophouse
Freehold property;
Modern facelift
~~~~~~~~~
Business cycles dash
Yesterday's bubble tea;
Today's cafe glitz
~~~~~~~~~
Shopping arcade
Organized pandemonium;
Electronic extravaganza
~~~~~~~~~
Bread and toast
Shopping mall happenings;
Cafe pondering
~~~~~~~~~
Old haunts call
Flavours and tints;
Urban oasis
~~~~~~~~~
Congested roads
Peak hour traffic;
Air-con consolation
~~~~~~~~~
Morning kungu-fu dancers
Graceful as swans;
Dreamtime exhibits
~~~~~~~~~
Busy feet carve
Grassy footpath;
Shortcut route across
~~~~~~~~~
Urban renewal
Unstoppable excavations;
Traffic clutter shows
~~~~~~~~~
October heat wave
Haze for added flavour;
Smoky suffocation
~~~~~~~~~
River boat ride
Clarke Quay encounter;
Delighted tourists
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
27 October 2014
Singapore
I want to know
The limits of your passion
So I wade into your sea
Reaching to the depths of you
Losing myself within your blissful currents
I Penetrate the force of your nature
Slowly I ascend
To the surface of your wonder
Riding each passionate wave
Until I feel your release
The calming of you
The beauty of your stillness
My hands stretch to your horizon
Marveling at the magnificence of you
You let them dance upon your softness
As I rise towards your sky
The winds of your changing
Caressing my being
You bathe me in a soft light
Gravity pulls me towards your moon
The stars adorn the blackness of your hair
Within your twinkles I am mesmerized
Confounded and elated by your orbit
Flung to the reaches of your constellations
You are the the beginning and end of me
The resonance of all my notes
The answer to my need
My inner sanctum
The softness of my cravings
The realization of my wonder
The space within my understanding
The hope I breath
The suffocation of my fear
For with you I have come to know
What it means
To experience
Limitless
Passion