Long Thrash about Poems
Long Thrash about Poems. Below are the most popular long Thrash about by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thrash about poems by poem length and keyword.
Diane Perna
BURNT TEARS
I remember a tormented childhood with
Dad’s words laced with poison and Mom
tossed acid on my tears by saying no words
to stop it and even joined it.
I remember that even though I was a small
and frail child that didn’t stop them
these parents left me to thrash about life
with their painful insults.
I remember because my spirit was crushed
I wore an unmistakable frown
the wounds of my heart were inimitable too
as was the damage to my character.
I remember Mom laughing when I swallowed Clorox
and should’ve warned it wasn’t apple cider
what I was left with was swallowing burnt tears
and always wondered if anyone could tell.
I remember my sorrowfulness like
hot molten metal running over me but
I kept it locked up and bound because
I only found judgment that silenced me.
I remember pressing on through to another year,
month, week, day and minute with the blare in my
head of the brutal belittlement so evermore
I carry the memory of those burnt tears.
dear poltergeist
as I compose this letter to you
I am tired
but you are not
my enemies have come for blood
they cheer for I will soon die
my god hides his face from me
I am tired
but you are not
for you are beyond all sleep
and you live through death
and in this moment I accept
that you will never leave
so live through my death
I will reject you no longer
you are always welcome in my home
make your noise
fill this earth with your fear
scrape flesh as you have scraped my walls
thrash about
throw earth and bones as you have done to the chandelier
you are free to
topple my enemies as you have toppled my urns
give them no sleep
shake
thrash about
you conduct the drums of war
for you orchestrate victory over the great silence of Death
and afterwards, you shall knock on the door
and you shall not knock twice
for the door is open
celebrate
scream for joy
show them your dance
make your noise
make them know
let them know
you make the sound
they make the silence
you will not be denied
let them know
only you shall stand
sound the drums of victory
thrash about
let them know
you live
I AM HERE
YOU SHALL THRASH ABOUT WITH ME
WE SHALL LIVE AS BROTHERS
SING
DANCE
SCREAM
BREAK BONES
TOPPLE WALLS
SCRAPE FLESH
YOU SHALL NOT SLEEP
YOU SHALL AWAKEN
FILL THIS EARTH WITH YOUR WRATH
CELEBRATE
LET THEM KNOW
YOU ARE THE ONE WHO KNOCKS
YOU GIVE THEM NO SLEEP
YOU SHALL LIVE
AND THEY SHALL FALL SILENT
NOW.....
SING!!!!
If you want to avoid waking up to a sea of Rubbish in your lounge,
You might think about Turning off your TV and internet,
Before you turn out the lights.
And if you want a comfortable sleep,
Don't leave your laptop or cell phone on all night beside your bed,
Or you may wake to find a river of rubbish in your bed,
And have need of a coffee to clear the rising mist that fouls the air in your brain.
For if we have any connections with the virtual world past the stroke of Midnight,
It will be the rubbish from that world that you will be receiving,
Rubbish of a kind that once you get stuck with,
You will find it hard to ever get it out of your mind.
Even a small river of this kind of rubbish,
Will be hard to cross,
And any hope of re-connecting with friends and family on the opposite side,
Will depend on you finding someone skilled in building bridges,
Of the psychological kind.
A sea of this kind of rubbish may sweep you so far offshore as to take years,
To find you and bring you back safely.
Prolonged exposure to this kind of rubbish may lead to your mind being
Controlled from the virtual world,
And your fate will be sealed and your life hang in the balance,
As you go out into the street and the world beyond,
With waters from this sea of toxic rubbish, dripping from you,
Like blood from a near fatal wound,
That others are afraid, to come in contact with,
As you thrash about wildly and indiscriminately,
Not even knowing the reason why.
I think of death and wonder,
I think of death and wonder,
What would it be like
To depart this life?
Perhaps to drown?
Ah yes, to drown
To choke, to gasp,
To feel the flam in my throat
The Water in my lungs.
To feel my life ebbing, ebbing,
As I thrash about,
Pulled deeper by my efforts,,
Helpless, Hopeless?
I think of death and wonder.
As I see myself,
On the pavement
In some darkened parking lot.
There are footsteps,
Someone yells,
"Oh My God"
"There's a woman here."
My limbs are tangled,
I'm a broken doll.
As my life's blood flows,
Through the cracks in my forehead.
I think of death and wonder,
Stairs? Of course the stairs,
I fall quickly.
Moaning as I go, moaning....
Death, to drown to fall,
To waste for weeks upon a bed of pain.
Death comes for everyone
And He will come for me.
I think of death and wonder,
As one who lifts a sweet cup,
Red as blood to her lips,
And drains the Nectar.
I go not as some weary soul,
Beaten and used by some cruel Master.
But as one who with a light heart,
Takes up a good book, by a favorite author.
I think of death and wonder,
As one who cheerfully embarks
To a unfamiliar place,
To see a most beloved friend.
Even now I hear the ringing
Of those distant bells.
And stir as one just now awaking,
To meet a Happy day
In no real sense is he alive:
a wind-up toy, personified.
A message bundled with a drive,
he neither eats or can divide.
Two hundred million like himself,
each one distinct, yet all the same.
Possessed of vast genetic wealth,
new life’s potential in this frame.
Like pointing north, returning home,
he has no eyes to guide his flight.
A haploid on a beacon honed,
attractive forces are his sight.
A mitochondr’al battery
will keep him till it runs its course.
For five days, if it matters, he
is driven by an unknown force.
That is to say, unknown to him:
the enzyme, ABHD2,
creates the urge to swim and swim;
there’s nothing else that he can do.
And swim he does! Five body lengths
traversed before a second’s passed.
If salmon-sized, this feat of strength
is fourteen miles per hour; that’s fast!
And not just fast, but also far;
a mile or two would be the rule,
approximate, but close, on par,
for swimmers swimming in a pool.
And now we know he does not flail
or thrash about while in the water;
a corkscrew does his path entail,
much like an eel or playful otter.
The journey’s end, target in sight,
the bodies littered all around.
A chemical and wondrous light,
a flash from zinc when they are bound.
It seems two things come with this flash:
the door is closed, he’s merged herein.
He does not care; his merry dash
fulfills the goal: new life begins.
----------
for the 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 21 Poetry Contest
sponsored by Mark Toney
written 05/14/2022
Besotted, beguiled, bewitched,
I walked outwitted and benumbed
into her web of love willingly.
She stared at me like
a black widow sizing up her prey.
What draws a moth
to flirt with the flame
or a nimblest fish
to bite the deceitful bait?
What lures a fawn
to step on the snare?
What heavenly bliss do
fools in love seek to attain?
As the moth
singes in the flame
and brings not its wings
to steer away
Nor the feisty fawn
set itself free
try as it may,
So does he
who’s smitten with love
to wiggle and thrash about
like the foolish fish
until his last breath!
He who dallies with a maiden
With rue his heart is soon laden,
Dabble not with this flame of love--
A firestorm from the heavens above.
Slip away, oh, slip away
at the first light of day!
~Form: 3 Freedom
While I sit here, distraught and destroyed,
while I thrash about, weeping for all that we were,
while memories make my eyes overflow with unending tears,
do you even bat an eyelash at the past?
While I walk alone, on this lonely, clouded path,
while I rail against this fate, forever missing you,
while here I remain, mired in misery and woe,
do you ever regret even one thing?
While I've spent just over six months drifting,
while I've spent them confused and weary,
while they've ripped me open, torn me down,
have you even once missed what we had?
While I've been wishing, pleading to forget,
while I've been wanting nothing but to be gone from this,
while I've been defying myself by yet loving you,
have you even once had a feeling for me?
Once, our lives were so linked,
and I never would have had to ask this;
I knew what was going on in your life,
what made you smile, what made you cry.
But now, all that's seemingly forever changed –
apart we live, and apart we stay;
I miss you, in every possible way,
and I just have to know.
What has been happening, inside your head
and inside your heart, while we've been apart?
What has the universe done to you or for you,
while it's been eating me alive?
I may never know, the answers to my questions,
I may never again touch the magic that you are;
I will never again be the man that I once was,
but I pray I won't stay this mess that I have been.
Patchwork Musings
Vying for order
This square
That corner
One's center
These squared-off life experiences
Know well jockeying for position
Is fraught with chance
Disappointment
Acceptance
The waking state knows
Nothing resolves naturally
No stitch in one's original design
Arrives at needle's focus point
Matching perfectly the original intent
Red threads
Clash with its attracted yellow
Black outs white
One's colors
Opting to make permanent
That square
Or the next
Find unraveling threads
But a question of time
Permanence better hung
On the wall of one's imagination
Still
We hope
Will our dream impressions
Be nestled beneath chin
Or atop restless feet
Where nightmare's fragilities
Thrash about
Disturbing tucked images
That lovingly comfort
Dream's Neverland
So long
This task of bringing together
The peach trees of youth
Nestling next to briar bushes of adolescence
Awaiting adulthood's gnarled disappointments
One's patchwork cover
Taken every night to bed
Merely wants the blanky of security
Insuring a safe slumber
Until tomorrow
Where more patches await
Silently you watch me suffer
My cries for help unanswered
I thrash about in my pain
Driven insane by….
The Silence
“She will survive.
She will rise.”
You comfort yourself with these words
Sure that you will not be summoned
To attend a funeral
Ah, there is truth in that
You WILL not be summoned
For there are no attendees
At the funeral
Of a soul
A heart
A dream
Of Love
…….Silence……
The thrashing and moaning lessen
Time passes
The silence... d
e
e
p
e
n
s
You breathe a sigh of relief
It is over
And yet
The silence is broken
Something keeps playing in your mind
Music
Notes
Sorrowful wailing sounds
You cannot block out
It is the requiem
A dirge for my dead heart
Thoughts resurrect
A love still burns
Finally…
You come to search
To find
To verify...
S....i....l....e....n...c....e
Dead hearts don’t speak
You missed the funeral
And the burial
Now….
Do not disturb
My resting place
Yes, stand there
Stand still
With bowed head
Listen…..listen to the silence
A silence matching
The silence
Of your own dead heart
Listen....Listen to
THE SILENCE
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Pick a Title – Wild Is the Night – Sponsor: Edward Ibeh 1-9-25
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wild Is the Night
Night wakes
In atonality of imploding infernos
Stretches,
Tossing matted tresses,
Throws off serene quilts
Of winter’s full golden moonlight
To thrash about with bare feet
On icy floors,
Tripping over the remains of dawn
Where shreds of crumpled thoughts,
Like shards of icy hailstones,
Claw at windowpanes
Clothed in nakedness.
Night shivers
As jumbled fangs of hunger
Rattle chimes and unbroken stares
When gusts of darkness ravage lullabies,
Gnaw on jawbones of savaged dreamscapes,
To race through hairpin curls of obsession
Night huddles
In tempests of dead ends,
Decorated by fixations,
By graffiti of the grotesque,
Where despair masquerades in cyclones of deception,
Storms of mania as solutions.
Whispers of wind driven earworms hatch,
Step in front of Heaven’s voice,
Cutting into Heaven’s heart
With blades of infected gales;
As the blood of angels stains doves
Anxiety floods in downpours
When the litany of the hours tosses and turns
In explosions of black noise;
Wild night paces in midnight,
Caught by scurrying tornedos,
Waiting
For the first light of resurrection.