Long Terrified Poems
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Decided to speak poetry
Words are painful
To not be hurt
Thought to be friends
Not to be in pain
Guess the revelation is not that powerful
To be terrified is understandable
Frightened too
Guess the Divine needs to convey
To transfer the truth
Certain women are having difficulty
Read their stories
Where is your compassion?
Did you not feel it too?
Higher power is you
Those women had, are having difficulties
Told the Divine not to be powerful
Mad or angry
Don’t be
The unborn are suffering inside
Women
Ladies
Mother
Can’t bear seeing her child suffering
Thought Humans needs to mirror the Divine
Ended unborn suffering
Tell Higher power the unborn are safe in heaven
The Divine wants to give women chance/choice to save themselves
Have pity on them
Population needs to hear the truth
To understand, discern, comprehend
To live harmoniously, peacefully
Calling the Divine
Hear the population
Unborn, living are suffering
Tell Higher power the truth
Written: 06172020
Poetry form: Dramatic Monologue
I have done everything in my power to become detached from the world.
Reassuring my decision every time I stare into your eyes.
My means of survival solely in the revival of your lips.
The light a reminder of the shadows that lay.
The past tense of habits no longer existing.
Thus-kissing you has become my favorite habit.
The more gently we treat each other,
The further and further away I become.
Throwing caution to the wind when it comes to you, each other-me.
It is through this perspective that I have learned to scream.
Scream every time it comes to you, scream when ever I feel this emotion rise.
This need to let you know that I am alive with each and every chance presented.
You being the cup that overflows each time.
Spilling all over my hands, my shirt, my mouth.
Traveling to a special place in my heart.
The horizon of a new atmosphere.
All of you in liquid form. Becoming a part of me.
And when you spill we both become terrified.
But not because you searched for me when at my lowest.
But because we were attached.
We were terrified.
Terrified in the sense that we trust each other with such sentiment.
The nature of what makes us, us.
Exploration the space around with loving eyes.
Our vessel made of tin.
The merge of planets happening inside of us.
Defying the means of gravity.
New galaxies lit by the sun.
The sun light of your smile.
Everything that happens within coming to light.
I have done everything in my power to become detached from the world.
Ignoring programs and other satellites.
Deliberately floating away in your eyes.
Detached from what was taught as the unknown.
New beginning
What is love?
It is simply the feeling of
Being scared and terrified and vulnerable,
As if every breath you take is borrowed
From the heartbeat of another.
Angry and excited and anxious,
Caught in the whirlwind of wanting too much,
While fearing it will slip through your hands,
Like sand in the wind.
Frustrated and standing on the edge of a cliff at all times,
Between the urge to leap and the terror of the fall,
Each moment a balance between joy and despair,
You jump.
You jump off that cliff edge.
You leap off with all those feelings clung to your chest
Knowing the terror and the thrill of it.
But you feel safe to fall.
Because they'll catch you.
They will catch you
Every single time.
The full moon lit up the night sky
A wisp of cloud passed it by
To add to an eerie atmosphere
As if something gruesome might appear.
The gates to the graveyard groaned in the wind
As did the groans of the grave stones twinned
And the night demons were on the prowl
As the wolf cried out with a harrowing howl.
In the chapel attic a light appeared
And the girl in the red dress everyone feared
Was staring out with blood shot eyes
As the living dead heed her cries.
The door slams open, a priest appears
Holding a silver cross that the demon fears
As the holy water burns the skin
Of a possessed soul steeped in sin.
The ghoulish corpses to the girls demands
Descend on the chapel, as the devil commands
And the sweating brow of the terrified priest
Does little to ward off the devils beasts.
Reciting Latin, the priest persists
As the decomposed bodies in the graveyard mist
Aim to transform him into one of them
So he keeps reciting over and over again.
The girl morphs into the devils form
But the priest refuses to conform
And so with a scream the girl is thrust
Way up high, as she continues to cuss.
‘Lord save this soul’ the priest declares
‘Release this soul from this evil affair
And with this water I purify thee!’
And with that, in an instant, the devil did flee.
It is said that the girl did not perish
But became a nun of the local parish
And yet on every full moon night
It is rumoured that the nun was nowhere in sight.
And so tonight, as you lay in your bed
If you think this chapel is somewhere else instead
Beware as the full moon glows
That the girl in the red dress never shows!!
Paranormal Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Robert James Liguori
29th December 2021
- [ ]
My underactive mind takes my ideas swiftly away from us,
Kicking them in mean ways into corners, under redundant debris.
But wait I say, protesting
It does no good; my status quo mind is done.
Ideas are now kaput, thrown away in all directions
Nothing tidy about her terribleness, certainly not cleansing or kind.
I try to coax out my sensitive muse, but she is in hiding, terrified.
Worn out and sad, for our underactive mind is insisting on its way.
Wants concretes and absolutes, tired of imagination winning daily.
Maybe tomorrow? I suggest to muse gently, stroking her faerie hair.
Muse is in fetal position now, tucking her face under fluffy blanket.
I reassure her gently as we drift to sleep in perpetual soul land,
Knowing our ideas will be replenished and revived by morning.
Pandemonium
P aranoia proliferates among pretending believers
A nxious and terrified by extremist behaviours
N arcissisitic society of self obsessed materialists
D emand and devour all hedonistic offerings
E nveloping themselves in nationalistic fervor
M anifesting their opposition to a united world
O bedient only to their own selfish myopic concepts
N uclear war again raises ugly spectre on the horizon
I deologies clash like the Titans in battle, while
U nderlying hatred, animosity and xenophobia
M anoeuvre mankind masterfully to monumental misery
John Derek Hamilton
July 07,2016
He sits in the attic all day, trimming his fur
A creature without a name or a country
Climbs into my closet an hour before bedtime
I sense him, but cannot see him
For he can be invisible when he wants to be
I sense he has fangs, and claws
He wants to hurt me
Of this I am sure
I am terrified, for his presence is suspected
At first I think he is under the bed
My mother looks and assures me he is not
I know something is there though
Something evil that will grab my foot
I cannot fall asleep, for I am terrified
My heart beats triple time
I hear a snarl and I scream
Something under my bed laughs
The closet door opens.
It is my worst nightmare
Coming to life
While thunder rolls over the scene:
lightning bolts, ignite tinder trees.
Plummeting drops douse the ground fires:
but, torched by cinders, the trees' crown.
Suety smoke inks ebon clouds;
while thunder rolls over the scene.
Terrified of loud thunderstorms,
critters flee the stench of burnt wood.
Strong gusts morph into swirling winds
lofting plumes of hot embers high.
While thunder rolls over the scene,
molten lightning lights up the sky.
Dwindling fuel feeds fire's demise;
when the wind shifts upon itself.
Forest fires die out over time,
while thunder rolls over the scene.
Darkness falls blood swept fields today
Haunting sounds come from shattered bone
Stench floats, hangs from bodies decay
and cries are heard in fields of stone
Terrified men will turn to clay
Anguished faces that have no name
They are stepped on as they moan
No questions asked or feeling shame
Moonlight filters trees burned away
Hearts turn cold while fatigue has shown
Blood sticks to boots from the footway
Each man apart feeling alone
Sees his name on a gravestone stay
From this wanted war that they blame
As some scream out from deaths they own
No questions asked or feeling shame
Army of men cry from the frey
and hear whispered sounds, dead men groan
The cursed memories they will weigh
Men curl in darkness, fear has grown
They had to pass through hell's archway
and found no heros or acclaim
Only meadows of death they've sown
No questions asked or feeling shame
The anger comes, they can't postpone
Dead men's faces fill their mind's frame
Their nightmares now will set the tone
No questions asked or feeling shame
I changed ABABBCBC to ABABACBC
contest Ballade
4/28/15
Ran; they were running up the hill.
Sea was rising to level unseen
I sat in my old shabby car,
All terrified of what it could be.
I floated in it and was stuck among branches.
The water receded, I was saved, might be.
My eyes opened to “Happy Birthday to you”,
The chorus held me in dismay.
They laughed as they never did.
I smiled stiffly and hugged them fast.
“Noah’s day, would it be?”
Was it a predilection, my dream?
By afternoon, we celebrated my day.
All were lost in merriment and they
Laughed drunk, as thunder roared
And rain became more intense.
Someone busy on network, shouted.
Still silence: each gaped at the other;
Never heard before: the capital was
All in flood since some hours and
People were running to safety
While underground parking and tunnel
Were pools of death; people perished
Shrieking for help till their last breath!!
27/08/16
Contest: A Deluge (Julia Ward)
A real tragic event on 30th March 2013 (eve of Easter) in Mauritius
and I had a dream some days ago and forgot about it.
My twin nieces and son birthday was being celebrated on that day.
Port-Louis is the capital and the hill has a church of "Mother Mary" as
seen in the video. In the interview some people said they were floating as in
the "Ark of Noah". You may watch.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0m1bzvm0408
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dOLzWFjn97s
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8VO6uRLFDp4