Long Terrified Poems
Long Terrified Poems. Below are the most popular long Terrified by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Terrified poems by poem length and keyword.
Winter is like a refrigerator gone haywire
Which arrives on the heels
of an Abominable Snowman
The display blinking as ice crystals
Showing off her freezing prowess
Scaring the timid into calling in sick
Terrified of black ice or their insurance rates rising
When they slide into a semi on their way to work.
Winter is softened a bit by Kwanza, Hanukah and Christmas
But only a tiny bit, for we are still leery
of getting frostbitten toes
if we get locked out
and we are scared to death there might not be a Santa Claus
or that we were bad enough to get only coal this year.
Winter makes me smile
as her ice cubes drop with loud angry cracking sounds
as we scrape off our windshields.
This was the night I had never anticipated to come to me;
I had always imagined myself not being here in the past.
Those began around a year or two ago,
when I would look out the window into the lonely,
dark woods behind my house and saw so much,
so much that terrified me.
The notion of not existing terrified me later,
but during, it seemed wonderful,
like a fairytale I had always desired and longed for.
This wasn't the hope I wanted or needed,
but on this particular night,
every memory was entwined into one,
and that moment interwoven was asking me to go.
To leave somewhere else.
To depart for the ether,
that wonderful land of release
I had hoped to see.
MOONSHINE ELIXIR
My rose perfume scents the hospital room
where he returns for moonshine elixir.
My eyes, wide and afraid at the pale monster
who glows with pinkish cheeks as he drinks.
I scream, from inside my brain, as my mouth
softly moans, “no...no…”
My friend strung a cross - pressed it to my heart,
but he snickered, for i’m far too close to the dark.
He forced a nurse to remove it — she wore it
to ward off the evil, that terrified my bedside.
He told her, as he licked his lips, “Keep it on,
or i’ll send you next, to the funeral parlor.”
She pulls out a hammer and a stake, “That
would be a grave mistake, monster! Watch
your back. I know where you live. Do you
have time to move before the moon is through?”
He seethes, taking it out on me, raping me
of the rest of my lifeblood. He screams
at the top of his unholy breath…
The nurse’s hair caught in its vortex, the stench
of death she can’t escape. He vanishes
and fearfully he is able to find a new residence.
She must always watch her back, be careful
that no one unhinges the clasp at the back of her neck
...not even her husband.
Each night she hears a horrible howl, the wind blows the windows
and doors, a pale reminder of the evil that stirs...
12/21/2018
See my poem Victorian Virtue
S/He has heard something
somewhere
somehow
about sacred ecology
Wondering if this might capture
her own personal
and political
co-arising consciousness
empowering
overflowing feelings
for deep systemic theology
Unconditionally regarding
Gaia's original enlightened
liberating intent
empowering conservation,
resiliently resonant ecosystems
of Sacred Goddess Eartha
Embodied iconic health
co-arising ironic spiritual wealth
as resilient polycultural synergy
of robust polyphonic ecosystems
proclaims resonant multicultural integrity
of unconditioned wonder
That S/He has felt something
maybe someone
somewhere
somehow
co-operating sacred ecology
personally within
and eco-politically without
a punishing
traumatic shout
Absorbing environmental win/lose terrified stressors
co-passionately impassive
unconditional regard
for silent wonder
curiously engaging
furies of lose/lose escalating hunger
to bite the hands
and cooperative hearts
and co-invested minds
of compassionate root restoring win/win systems
resiliently determined not to judge uneased disease
as more powerful
or enlightened defense
than profound sacred curiosity
To uncover unconditional regard
for traumatic threats
in unjust retributive reaction
to therapeutic silent
hopeful
quiet interpersonal retreats
Waiting for a better day
warmer season
milder time
absorbing sunlight's health wealthier
communal sacred reason.
In less than 12 hours I will be starting a new job. The first job I've had other than working for myself doing remodeling for years. Ever since I fell off a roof breaking my hip in two places and hyper extending my right shoulder. I tell you this not because I want sympathy. A prayer might be nice though. Yes a prayer would be great. I tell you this because I am absolutely terrified. Afraid I'll fail. I won't be able to cut it. Yet I went through the entire application process and drug screen and every thing else involved. And it took until right now for the doubt and fear to set in. This writing is different than anything I've ever done and I doubt there's anything poetic about it.
But I needed to tell someone. And I hoped it could be you.
The Great Pretender
I pretend that I am strong
when weak is what I am.
I pretend I have no fear
when fear is all I know.
I pretend that I am laughing
when I only want to cry.
I pretend I'm having fun
when I wish there was someplace to hide.
I pretend that you don't know
when I can sense you do.
But still I don't pretend for me
I pretend so you don't feel bad for me.
I am the great pretender!
I don't want to be alone
but I don't want you in my pain.
I may need your help
but that doesn't make me want it.
I pretend I am proud and dignified
when both of those things left me long ago.
I pretend that I'm not broken
but I can't or maybe I won't hide it from me.
I am the great pretender!
I pretend everything is going to work out
and that I am holding it together.
I pretend that you can't see
But I don't believe it.
I pretend I'm not withdrawn
while I hide in the shadows.
I pretend that I'm not frightened
but I am. I am afraid.
I am the great pretender!
I pretend I know I can tell you anything
but I can't tell you everything.
Because what if I did?
What if I told you everything?
Then you would know
and you would be like me.
You would confuse what I told you with what you think you know and then. And then we'd both be pretending. And then maybe someday you would pretend better than me but then you would be the great pretender and I would be lost again. Left to only pretend I'm pretending.
No. I think it best if we just keep it real and let me go on pretending.
Because I am the great pretender.
ECH
Young Timmy procured a small lacertilian,
Envisioning quite a grand master reptilian.
It sat on the culinary table in state,
Gulping down the cheap scraps put on its plate.
The reptile expanded twelve inches a day,
And kicked the poor terrified house cat away.
It swallowed a massive, hand-kneaded loaf—
He’s a beast now, no longer a pet or an oaf.
Timmy watched while adjusting his neon-green cap.
It sprouted a pair of scaly wings,
Obscuring the view of all municipal things.
It perched on the roof of the family sedan,
And exhaled a smoke that choked the whole clan.
The populace panicked and called for the mayor,
While Timmy was grooming his saurian’s hair.
"He lacks any malice," the youngster asserted,
"He merely requires a land more deserted."
The city’s high leaders decreed it was best,
To kick the whole mess out into the west;
Now Timmy, astride his draconian prize,
Is roasting the cows on the pastoral highs.
Epilogue
The western frontier is now completely ablaze,
Obscured by a thick and administrative haze.
The boy and his beast have established a state,
Revising the regional tax structure rate.
The local department of wildlife agrees,
The dragon can nest wherever he please.
They manage the landscape with ultimate power,
Extracting a bureaucratic fee by the hour.
What is he doing? The Shigwonger did soon ask.
He is waiting for Halloween to begin, an enjoyable task.
I think he is a bit creepy, sitting on that gravestone cold.
I could watch him every day, the girl said. It never gets old.
The Shigwonger gave a shiver, a jiggle and a shake.
He did not know how much longer the moon would take.
Night would happen soon, and then it would be Halloween.
Who does he think he is? Asked the Shigwonger. The king?
The king of Halloween heard the whispering but dared not look.
He thought he had seen a Shigwonger down by the little brook.
The only creature he feared, which made hair stand on his neck.
Was a Shigwonger. Here came one now! He was terrified as heck!
The vogue today is to be “read”.
I was referred to Lallatoo by two friends.
They told me I would never forget my reading.
She was super mystical; I was astounded by her.
Are you a seer? I asked.
I consider myself a spiritual seeker, she replied.
I looked it up but there was nothing specific.
Are you a psychic? I asked.
I am a prophetess who understands runes.
I was attracted to the tarot, and now I read the cards.
Hence, I am a reader she replied.
I am as confused as ever.
She pulled things out of my brain I had forgotten.
Reminded me of things I wanted to forget.
You really are a seer, I told her.
Terrified of what else she might see.
They followed screams to where he died
his face showed he’d been terrified.
Though none knew why he’d passed that way,
...on ‘Devils Hill’ his body lay.
Around I feel a ghostly chill,
why must I venture up this hill
and see the place my friend had died,
right now I wish I’d stayed inside.
What is this shiver in the air,
each time I look there’s no one there.
An icy chill runs down my spine,
am I the one who’s next in line.
Here lies the spot he breathed his last,
again I feel this icy blast.
I think I hear his final scream,
an echo in this nightmare dream.
Surrounded now by thoughts of doom,
all that’s evil starts to loom,
playing on my inner fear,
my personal demons now appear.
I’m damned, I know, I feel my past
has finally caught me up at last.
I know that just to get our way
had often made all others pay.
There’s those we trod into the earth
while living high in joy and mirth,
my friend who’d died here yesterday
had shared the evil games we’d play.
Most times we made folks life pure hell
and once ignored an old man’s spell,
who’d cursed us both with inner eye
and said that when ‘up high’ we’d die.
We laughed out loud, the stupid thing,
we lived ‘up high’ ...‘high as a king’.
Could he not see we always win
by walking over men like him?
Oh God!, ‘up high’ ...he meant this hill!
where I'm now drawn against my will,
to answer for a lifetime’s sin
cursed by the way we ‘always win’.
Then suddenly from all around
a thundering voice then shook the ground;
”For all the evil you have spread,
today you’ll join the tortured dead.
Damnation, for your life of hate
has led you to the Devil’s gate.
Eternity to spend in Hell,
determined by an old man’s spell”…
Next day my body was found there,
none knew the misery and despair
that I’d caused others with my friend
to earn the horrors of this end....
Ivor G Davies
You have to put the coal in the furnace. My teeth begin to shake. It is cold here, but I am not afraid of the cold. I pretend I do not hear her. You have been taught this, she reminds me. Remember to put the mitt on before you turn the handle, or you will burn yourself badly. I am terrified, but her look pushes me into my shoes. My heart gulps at every one of the twelve steps to the basement. Sometimes there are rats down here. They do not bother
me as much as the coal furnace. It is scary and angry. I feel it despises me greatly. I am nine.
dragon lies in wait
i reluctantly face him
childhood furnace
Written 7-9-2020
Contest: A Memory Poetry Contest (haibun)
Sponsor: Line Gathier