Long T Poems
Long T Poems. Below are the most popular long T by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long T poems by poem length and keyword.
Glass shattered Saturday afternoon tea for S I L E N C E
holding steady raven momentum for its own r i p p i n g
fire from heartbeat slashes its void to tumble wounds of
wisdom weeping slow dirty tears of biting burns inserting
into wordless flesh of waiting before window panes were
smashed with stone docile ornaments, rampant afternoon
unvoiced holding a blank white canvas for dripping
bookshelves tumbled, poems torn to sheds, laundry strewn
with glass splinters as lead, aphonics slithering into dried out
stewpot waiting for maniacal tsunami to cremate emotions
tweezer them from dna soiled in possessive prisons ridiculed
Divinity spoke in all pervasive silence on testing timeline taut
holding breath to His nostrils imbibing a billion frequencies
I chose to brave open His serene lips for unutterable L O V E
lashes He crafted brushed breathy implicits with assent
for missions of courage traversed embracing solitude
observed in stillness whilst across eerie forest moss
carpets I deciphered “They Don’t Care about Us”
hush self wears a daisy cloak from heavenly dew fields
luminosity unzips not as lies hop chaotic across
spiderwebs it can chameleon transmute into gentle
streams to soothe that which hides for right timing
~ first bud of white rose birthing delicacy or benign
waters over pebble backdrop quietude
biscuit baker feeds jealousy, deceit, shame, guilt, indecision
escapism ~ swampy keys of stagnant quagmires will too utter
her heart’s eclipsed light breaking egoic invisibility as
softly I breathe her shadowed taciturn s t e a l t h
quiet petaling garment breaks open blackout mission
regurgitating quantum memories incubated in beckoning cell
fertility for decades perhaps centuries, marching crusades of
soul conquering ancient lands, majestic mountains, raucous
seas, ports, yellow spices, when women with babes gagged
anguished longing for men to taste their honey in serenity
hot crusted bread speaking truths of labouring backs bent
cows chewing cherrywood cuds ~ what could be a more
knowing t r a n q u i l i t y ?
now wafered soundlessness is lamb yet diamond piercing
raw, a lark offers sotto tones as harmony cupped in two
musing wings to ascend where it can quintessentially
quiver, hover in expectant repose for another silent mission
I'm sitting here right now, just thinking back through time,
about all the things I've been addicted to, through out my entire life.
now this has got me thinking, why was this so,
why I thought so many of my addictions were a good way for me to cope.
Addicted to lollies and video game as a child, they made me happy.
Addicted to violence at 9, because love was about control.
Addicted to writing at 10, a place for me to hide.
Addicted to smoking at 11, don't know really why,
also addicted to masturbation, to take my frustrations away
and addicted to movies, cause there was silence for a while.
Addicted to Alcohol at 12, it made me feel good inside.
Addicted to cannabis at 13, it freed me from my mind.
Addicted to hashes oil at 15, progressing I guess.
Addicted to gang life at 16, this was what I wanted to be.
Addicted to the party life at 17, it got me away from home.
Addicted to prescription medications at 18, a whole new world to see.
Addicted to gambling at 21, a real emotional ride.
Addicted to various T.v show, a way to fantasize.
also addicted to arguing and fighting, because I was always right.
For the next 5 years I went back and forth through all my addictions you see,
never really knowing where I fit in, because none of these were me.
so long was I trapped by addictions, in my mind it was the way to survive,
I truly thought my addictions were the only things keeping me alive.
Addicted to Yahoo messenger at 26, only thing on computers I knew how to do.
Addicted to bebo at 28, cos all my friends had one.
Addicted to helping people at 30, so much pain I could ease.
Addicted to tribal wars at 31, because I lacked satisfaction in my life.
then came a new addiction, to publish what I write.
Addicted to education at 34, so much I needed to understand.
and of course there was face book, well everyone is on face book.
Addicted to reprogramming myself at 36, this is where i'm at now.
i'm also addicted to my children, for they give me strength when i'm down.
I look back on my life and all I see is a lot of misery,
so coming to terms with my addictions, is my a new fight for me,
once I understand and embrace them all,
I can teach my children there's a better life in store.
I know I will never be free from addictions,
because I have an addictive mind,
the only difference now from then,
are healthier ones I find.
M.Mahauariki © 2012
Form:
Have you ever been on the edge of insanity at once in your life where you just feel like it's the end where you've lost yourself completely in what you trust which is your mind and your heart deep inside your chest and you just can't find any way out of it, I'm not so sure if it's just me or just a chemical imbalance of the brain in the mentality that we all get when things just get out of whack suddenly. I went to the book store today and I strolled on by toward a section of books where Philosophy lied and where Philosophy lied, Religion lied and where Religion lied, Politics lied and where Politics lied, so did Confusion. I have never been utterly so interested in my whole life where these things must have come from oh so long ago and yet at the same time, I probably never will, never will know the secrets of what's to come and even when the question is asked; "What happens after we die?" Ohhh; I don't know, Heaven? Hell? Reincarnation? We turn to bits of dust and grime? Or perhaps just the materialized particles that hide within the ground we walk upon today but regardless, I know that whenever the time is right, I'll figure out the answers when I've adjusted. I've never felt more depressed than what strong beliefs lead from me were suddenly destroyed and brought amongst others in different ways when they have been blind most of their life too like I have. Oh what a shelter society this small city has lead me to, or even worse what my parents have lead me to. How come I was never taught the study of Theology at an early age? How come Politics didn't matter to me by the time I realized what it was? Sometimes I really wish that I was raised on freedom of religion or read more books instead of sitting on my fatass all day with my father, watching T.v and suffocating in one of the many small apartments we called 'Home.' My Dad had never taught me anything, come to think of it. My Mom taught me a bunch of things but not enough. She was such an overbearing mother then again so how could I have stood a chance in the first place? But being so young still and weed messing up my head, I think it's time to somehow move on and continue to absorbed knowledge, grab some patience too and just get myself out of this mess for once; I know I have said this other times before but this is where I seriously draw the line. I can't believe I keep letting this happen to me.
Form:
Placed 1st in Contest
rain shine so divine
sprinkle blessings kissings wet ~
feet in leather boots
~~~~~~
Rain-shine sound patter
mad hatter
Alice lost in whimper drops
coatless with Rabbi Rabbit
ruling
\|||||||
////||||||||,,,,,
///////.////////||||||||||||~~the r
Ain in
sPain f
Alls mostly
on the //////~~_____?•
plain rain is my gain drip
to refrain D
from disdain r
O
Keep p dripping
Ing
everyone
SANE planting \\// \\// grain …..
::::::::::
torrential rain potential
Puddle H
Ubble Oo00orainnoshame
huddle close
s
H
O * * *
wers for blue flowers | | |
so they cower
in ROYAL tower /////|||||||::::::://///\\\\\\
///\\\\ a shimmering sleet
of rain glimmering
on street
rainbow sheet covering
a fleet of SHIPs
2 dip so neat
sweet
RAIN AGAIN bleat bleat
SODDEN EARTH
joyful mirth
|||||\/\/::::::::||||||•••girth birth water
w a t e r FILTER b
R
OK
en
G. R. A. T. E. F. U. L 4. RAINDROPS
buckets of rain
there’s a hole in my bucket
rain s
E
e
P
s
sneaking
holy r A i N
Rain S. h. I. N. e. ••xx
ON ••
_______\\\\________
Who is responsible
domestic violence?
in the home...
responsible for rape?
while bullying in schools
escalates?
fact anti-social behavior
begins in the home!
millions of excuses used
drugs-sex-mental illness-debt
alcohol-infidelity-uncompromising
ass-hole
why not blame stress!
to name but a few...
thats' new, slap on a label
anti-social cripple
self centered compelled
subservient with a death wish
co-dependant on a mission
many incapable of raising
families successfully
matching crime to criminal
sooner rather than later
people who want children
most should be screened
the ones that have violent
tendency maybe steralise
these...
protect the unborn spirit
this cycle of perdition
simply 'cause some can
protection remains
the question...
until we fill up our prisons
or doctors fill out prescriptions
or do drugs - prostitution
or some souls
simply disappear
abuse of the sexes disaster
children
lives destined for remand
some cultures self destructive
buck the system for a laugh
self discipline escapes them
some victims choose suicide
alternative families to the rescue!
marriages deplete
truth uncovered
primary social group
breaking down
mere survival havoc wreaks!
social injustice
social acceptance
to live in a relationship
without independence?
when we break the cycle?
we immerge stronger-
children safer
home wreckers
so yesterday
some sexual couples
complete disasters
I deserve a happy life
a happy life I've got
living without violence
is where we all need to start
repeat not the acts of
your fore mothers forefathers
the violence does not work
mental physical verbal abuse
is a hostile mind at work
he's weak disqualified from life
primal evil reactivated strife
programmes of violence repeated
not strong enough in mind deleted
disrespected, feared, without
honor in most cases cannot repair
don't be a victim, of archaic hatred
suffer little children NOT!
this world though numb
Is nevertheless disgusted
authorities ears to the ground
we have heard your cries aloud
take it from one who knows
let all that s@%t go!
don't repeat their mistakes
look inside make new choices
you decide fill your life with
love...
...or misery will connect the dots
The elegant thoughts of a precious mind the computational formula of a wicked demise.
Conceptual seires of theories a conspiracy to seduce persuasive succulent poetry.
Wicked mistress of promiscuous thoughts succulent dreams aromas of fresh gratuities a blurring of mixtures to blended abstracts.
Funnels draining the gravity of intellectual force to persuade a complete set of cycling ways to convey. The Amoure of flashing movies pictured all in the thought whispering speeds of domesticating breeds many ways a heart bleeds. Bundles of delightful Joys the taste of blissful, many ways eye's see to conceive the thought.
The almonds of joy roasted to enjoy conceptual way of a thinking blinking fast ways of thoughts. Orchestra's of notes orchestrated instruments of Beethoven's musical symphonies. Genie in a bottle unleashing the mysterious, unveiling imaginative ways of cultivating the seeded flower to bloom.
Enduring the elegants of an elite Romance rhythm of a Romans aroma's to inhale changing the taste of eloquence.
The artist works mending fears transducing hours to love live love with the sweat of fears8.
Rome's architectural wonder the protects precise sculpture of a wordsmiths glamour. Struts the catwalk with a book 2 premiere, lives on set, broadcasting his heart to revere.
Prince's of prancnig dressing rooms, Broadway St of dramatic dramas, elterically shocking emotions paints new moon phases, mixture of Picasso's colors a dramatization of pain seats the audience.
Photographer of a pictured humanity, colors rainbows of negativity with brilliant prisms.
A King to lion's spiritual pride brilliance of a star, rearrange the theater's of studed premieres, lives with sentiments of love's lifetime unconditionally the greatest of philosophy.
Unique elegance of sun setting romance blinding the artist of a premiering wedding, preaching the marriage of universal energy.
Rays of hope displaying poetry of wholehearted hearted beauty.
The statue of persuasive values premiering spiritually harmonies the elegance of mankind.. Energies of unleashed imaginations dreaming of pots of gold, loving the insecurities of the worlds diversity walks the testimony of £ove.
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Pen's Broadcasting Brilliance
21st century's Poet
#WickedRomancer
?#poet #poetry #poem ?
Khi mà ngu?i dân b?t d?u nh?n ra ngu?n nu?c sinh ho?t ngày càng m?t an toàn thì cung là lúc h? b?t d?u chú ý hon d?n nhung dòng thi?t b? có ch?c nang l?c nu?c.
Xem thêm: www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLbcg7JZIaaoLH1mPhyRMmZCqGyPsXSOB9
Trên th? tru?ng hi?n nay có hàng ngàn các dòng máy l?c da d?ng c? v? m?u mã l?n tính nang, tuy nhiên chúng ta không th? dánh giá qua v? b? ngoài c?a nh?ng thi?t b? ?y d? bi?t du?c thi?t b? dó có t?t hay không, có cho ra ch?t lu?ng nu?c du?c hay không, mà chúng ta c?n ph?i d?a vào co ch? l?c ? bên trong thi?t b?, cùng v?i h? th?ng l?c nu?c c?a s?n ph?m.
V?y thì khi mu?n ch?n mua 1 dòng s?n ph?m l?c phù h?p v?i nhu c?u s? d?ng nu?c c?a gia dình mình thì nên ch?n dòng máy nào? Khi mà trên th? tru?ng có quá nhi?u dòng máy d? cho b?n l?a ch?n.
Không ch? nh?ng dòng máy l?c nu?c nhu là Nano Geyser TK5, hay là dòng TK8 m?i du?c yêu thích c?a thuong hi?u Geyser mà dòng máy l?c Nano Geyser Ecotar 4 cung vô cùng n?i b?t. Ðây cung là dòng máy l?c trong s? nh?ng dòng máy c?a Geyser có kh? nang l?c nu?c vô cùng t?t.
Xem thêm: www.facebook.com/maylocnuocnanogeysertk88loithehemoi/
Không ph?i ai cung bi?t 1 di?u, dó là ecota là v?t li?u x? lý t?ng h?p do t?p doàn Geyser nghiên c?u và phát tri?n lên. chính là v?t li?u da nang nh?t có kh? nang x? lý du?c nhi?u thành ph?n t?p ch?t ? trong nu?c, mà ch? c?n nh? m?t v?t li?u duy nh?t này. V?t li?u da nang Ecotar có th? x? lý du?c toàn b? các thành ph?n kim lo?i n?ng cung nhu là các ch?t hóa h?c d?c h?i khác nhau nhu là thành ph?n Amoni, s?t, nitrat và nhi?u ch?t khác gây h?i d?n s?c kh?e c?a ngu?i s? d?ng. Chính vì v?y, v?t li?u Ecotar dã giúp cho dòng máy l?c Ecotar c?a thuong hi?u Geyser tr? nên vô cung uu vi?t và d?c bi?t n?i b?t.
Bên ra thì dòng máy l?c Ecotar 4 t?i các c?a hàng May loc nuoc Geyser tai Dong Nai còn có kh? nang c?i thi?n ngu?n nu?c m?t cách vô cùng hi?u qu?, và giúp ngu?n nu? có m?t v? thanh mát t? nhiên. Chính vì ngu?n nu?c ngay sau khi du?c x? lý, luôn có du?c s? tinh khi?t tuy?t d?i và v? ng?t mát vô cùng t? nhiên. V?y nên n?u s? d?ng nu?c du?c l?c ra t? máy l?c Nano Geyser Ecotar 4 thu?ng xuyên d? dun n?u th?c ph?m thì ch?t lu?ng b?a an c?a gia dình b?n cung s? du?c c?i thi?n và ngon mi?ng hon dáng k?. Nh? vào nh?ng uu di?m dó, nên dòng máy l?c Nano Geyser Ecotar 4 cao c?p này, luôn dón nh?n du?c s? yêu thích và uu tiên l?a ch?n t? phía khách hàng.
Part Three
...swishing away with your sunshrivelled burgundy knotty arms with broad disdainful harvesting sweeps the cobras come out to water in the sweltering heat by the thatched fly-buzzed hole
your low under-the-breath warning tones a reminder of the will of your self-inflicted charge
you never ate until i gorged myself
like the dutiful wife given with a dowry
watching me all the time through the shield of the wisp of cloud of cheroot smoke in your sentinel corner against the far wall your eyes glinting fearing that i might take exception and even before my plate was half-empty you had already darted across the kitchen floor to bring me more fried brinjals mashed greens fried and sliced plantain the steaming rice lying bare by its metal cover hanging on the lip of the open pot-mouth in a clear aluminium pot by my side
now they say you are gone for some plotted and took your life in haste
even before you had time to ensure an heir
others say you were alone dismayed abandoned by your own
prey to enchanters coveting
the plot of land the house derelict forsaken by your absence
they say some one else caretakes it for himself
others no a forbidden son of your husband’s has raked it for himself
alas would you have known how landless nationless stateless i’d be
this dot of ancestral land clinging-clanging in memory
did you know then you might never see me again
nor probably ever hear of me
or if you had how might you have taken it all
did you believe the tales true and false they told
or only what you wanted to hear
of your precious prince you once served in silence and
who had gone to slave in other lands
Notes
eevaa peerankal muuvaa marunthu is a take on another well-known Tamil proverb: eevaa makkal muuvaa marunthu meaning “children who obey even before the order is given are a God-send”. Here, in lieu of children, the word “grandparents” is substituted
chembu: a small usually copper vessel shaped like a rounded vase with a tapering neck and open mouth, used for holding drinking water or milk
kuul: thick holdall gruel which may also be highly spiced
chemman: red soil
Vaithi: ayurvedic doctor, practising the traditional Indian homeopathic medicine
© T.Wignesan 1997 - Paris May 7, 1997 (from the Sequence/Collection: "Words for a Lost Sub-Continent")
SUDDENLY SOMETHING
Have you ever spent a night in a six by ten foot cell?
Well that’s where my FESTERING fears dwell
And no one with a prescription pad will write for a junkie born and bred
Did you ever wish more earth dwellers would all suddenly be dead
Look, there’s a pretty little miss, oh it’s daddy’s little girl
She dances on my feet when she starts to whirl
I told her to hold down her pleated skirt when she begins to twirl
My little girl with a smile and every tooth a perfect pearl
In silent supplication I’d sneak up to hear her prayer for that eve
I just wanted to hear daddy’s little girl pray and then I would leave
First she blessed the Almighty, his spirit and his soul
Making prayers come true was her sole and only goal
It could be a league of angels advising her on the right thing to do
Or sprites to make all things look like new
It might be little singing stars, from above came they for you
So your daughter can ignore an errant and off key dove pleased not to coo
She looks completely comfortable in a cloak and coat of cashmere
S**t, I’d trade an arm for her body no matter what she may wear
Whatever happens next is only though fate to be willed
And if you listen closely one can hear the breeze being stilled
Alas she grows nigh with hips swinging and lips moving
And then those loquacious lips emitted “would you care to have a tea”
I knew she could hear by heart from across the table
And then it was only silence, lovely her and me
“Look, me and that lady over there are wearing the same dress”
And so whatever she was going to do it may have to be under duress
“that lady has the a copy of my original,” and she was enraged
Something tells me your friends have never been caged
I’ve been penned up with a pen, pen pals and ten pencils, but only one isn’t too dull
You’d think out of all those pencils there’d be one sharp one to cull
So you’re daddy’s little girl no longer my sweet
But I’ll let y’all know when next we can meet
So when I first talked about being caged in a cell
if asked for the truth my story would be difficult to tell
Because each eye a gem, each tooth a pearl
So tell me sweetheart, are you still daddy’s little girl
© 2011.……free cee!
And s.b.---if you are gonna ask me, so where’s the nexus from one thing to another I
say go have another glass of vintage brandy.
Dear Reader,
Greetings! I hope you are having a wonderful day, or evening if you are just reading this.
No, really, from the depths of my soul, my spirit waves a double-handed "Hi!" to yours.
Come, bring your philosophical coffee cup or tea cup or cup of whatever your favorite
beverage is and sit beside me, across the e-ther. May I ask why you are reading this? You
want to read poetry, I understand, and this is not really poetry. Or is it? Could this
count as free verse? I would not call it a sonnet or a haiku, except in the loosest
possible definition, in the way that drawing outside of the lines can be a drawing and a
de Kooning painting consisting of a chunky orange paintstroke can be considered to depict
a woman. But what makes poetry poetry, or art art for that matter? The medium? The
observer? The intent? Surely Warhol's footage of people sleeping would never be considered
art except for the presence of the camera and the eventual distribution. A man sleeping
miles from a camera or canvas would not likely be considered art, so does the camera
serially produce art? Most people would not consider home movies to be art. So is art
merely a stamp that we all carry around in our frontal lobes? Is life a form of art
regardless of what we call it? In this day and age, in which all rules seem to be broken,
rewritten, broken again, stretched like an old t-shirt, ripped, worn as a new fashion, and
then broken again, have we evolved to the point where we see rules as artificial labels,
something outside our own world that no more exist than the square root of negative one?
Is this letter a poem in spite of itself? What do you think? We may never know for sure,
and if this entry gets deleted from the site, I suppose the answer is a thunderclap "No."
In fact, after thinking it through, I am fairly confident that this is actually not a
poem. These labels are an earnest attempt to creates links in the world, without which
this entire treatise would make no sense. What would Petrarch have thought? What would
Warhol have thought? Or Andy Kaufman? Either way, I guess this is probably not a poem. But
thank you for having read these thoughts of mine, swirling like pagan revelers around my
head. Thank you for reading my non-poem which may actually be a poem but isn't. I bid you
a wondrous and blessed day. Or night.
Yours,
-Michael