Long Threaten Poems
Long Threaten Poems. Below are the most popular long Threaten by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Threaten poems by poem length and keyword.
Alas, you may have noticed if
you’ve looked around the world these days,
you don’t see werewolves or zombies,
no vampires or mummies at play.
The whole world seems to have lost that
thade of mystery we once knew,
The creatures that stalked us of old
have become remarkably few.
There’s still a few out there, I know,
good old Dogman up in Michigan,
but for many of these creatures
their wild days have come to an end.
Now what’s the reason for this loss?
What has brought about this strange thing?
That’s easy enough to explain,
we humans are great at killing!
Yes, just as with normal animals,
we kill off what might be a threat,
something threaten might endanger out lives
is something that we can’t abet.
So just like predators and small pox
we saw the job was done,
heck, we published how to kill them
in all of our horror fiction!
Stakes, silver, garlic, and headshots,
we let all the world know how to win,
to the point out nights have become safe,
free of all the creatures of sin.
But if you still want to see them
then I have some good news for you,
you can see them all down at the
Endangerer Horror Species Zoo!
Now we got ghouls, goblins, wendigos,
your Demons, your banshees, and sprites,
we got all of the B-team monsters,
but most folks come for the big five.
I guess we should start with the werewolf,
each must roam in his own separate pen,
their spacious and lined in silver leaf,
we don’t want them getting out again.
The only ones left are the old ones,
so old they no longer transform,
they just stay werewolves all the time,
apparently this is the norm.
whatever the case, it’s good for us,
people can see them fur and all,
through a foot-thick one way mirror
that forms the enclosure front wall.
These eight foot beasts eat messily,
yet people gather when they feed,
yhey act appalled by the whole thing,
Yet they consistently watch the scene.
And when those lycans howl loud
it pieces right down to the soul,
ten times the fear of a normal wolf,
the spine tingles, and blood runs cold.
But people like feeling afraid
so long as they know they are safe,
sometimes we’ll drop a rabbit in there
so folks can watch the beast give chase.
Why do so few of these beast remain?
think silver bullets plus machine gun,
most of them now are heads on a wall,
we’re luck to have more than one...
CONTINUES IN PART II.
It was as real a fear as any that one could encounter.
Fear is torment, and comes with the purpose to intimidate and eliminate. I have encountered the fear of punishment and fear of bodily harm. I have feared darkness where one is at a loss of his surroundings.
As a child I was terrified of polio shots administered once a year.
There are fears that come and go, and we learn to adjust and adapt. There are myriads of phobias and fears that threaten us all, but there is a fear I wish to share. It is a fear with which I struggled and have had to confront, conquer, and dispatch.
I fought for several years until I conquered and overcame 'the fear of failure'. This fear did not accompany me at birth as if I inherited it from ancestors. I created conditions and aspirations that painted pictures of accomplishments and achievements whereby I dared not to be anything less than the master of all my hopes and dreams. I could not accept the normal or the mundane. I believed that I would excel no matter what. However, I came to realize that I was being captured and imprisoned by my own mind set. I was becoming obsessed and driven to avoid what I perceived as an unacceptable life, and thereby becoming afraid of what might become a reality. Thus the 'fear of failure' in reality reduces one's abilities and capabilities.
When I released myself from the drip of such a fear, I became free to let go and let me be the best me that I could be without trying to please and convince me as well as others of how wonderful I could be. It was a fear from which no one else could emancipate me. God's wisdom and grace granted me the sweet freedom from the fear of failure.
09132017 PS Contest, Fear 2, Debbi Guzzie
We lie in the dark,
my back to his chest, clinging to one of his arms.
This moment is beautiful, tender, and I cherish it.
The silence is broken and his voice rumbles in my ear.
"Tell me about your past, my dear."
My life flashes past my eyes, quick as lightning.
Panic sets in, I gulp, sweat, attempt to avoid.
He sees through it all and persists.
Tears threaten to overwhelm me,
as internally I burn this moment into my mind, heart, and soul.
I silently tell him, my love, goodbye.
"My young life has been hard, painful, overwhelming.
I've been shot, nearly stabbed, nearly choked to death on the railroad tracks.
I've screamed for help so many times by choking on pills, sitting on train tracks, slicing my wrists.
Abused by a brother, abandoned by a father, neglected by a mother.
Kicked out, homeless, stealing candy from a gas station."
His arms tighten the more I speak, and I regret telling him anything at all.
But he has asked and I cannot deny him.
The words begin to flow like a car crash that I am powerless to stop.
"The abuse seemed kind when it happened, from lovers of my past.
Though each had specific rules, that I discovered fast.
I could not touch one unless upon seduction.
I could not trust her, for her death was near upon my fingers.
I loved one; they preferred to see me suffer, for I wished to make them happy."
I can feel the anger radiate from his body,
coiled tight, wanting a target.
I know it's fueled by a sadness, I cannot feel.
And yet I continued.
"I've suffered from nightmares for years, waking to tears or screaming.
I am easy to fright, even when unwarranted.
The PTSD causes me to flinch or jump at near every sound.
PTSD, insomnia, depression,
I've fallen down flights of stairs,
taken care of everyone else and have neglected myself."
I stare into the darkness as the words finally stop,
everything that ever happened replaying through my mind again,
from a new perspective.
Still I cannot feel the true tragedy of it.
I realize I have recited these things, in a monotone voice.
Devoid of the pain I must have felt.
But I am the rock, the caretaker, the forgiver.
He is silent with me, his arms an iron cage,
and I cannot breathe.
I do not mind.
He inhales deeply, his voice nearly inaudible he simply speaks.
"I will always be here for you."
And my heart finally breaks.
Where does my conscious go, when demons raise their fiery eyes,
They steal my very soul, killing all which is sanctified,
Engulfed by instant fears, no longer hearing loved ones cries,
The beast within appears, telling me I am justified,
I have already lost, no reprieve from my mortal sin,
All reason now is blocked, as I become the beast within,
No pity can I feel, as I make my grandiose stand,
Yes the horror is real, as I destroy all that I can,
Where do my feelings go, when demons raise their snarling lips,
Bringing an all new low, into my life now torn to bits,
Certain of being right, I flail and thrash as if in fits,
I threaten and I strike, with great fury the demon spits,
Yet I still stand and shout, my ugly hate and derision,
Accusing lies said out loud, revolting words - degradation,
Just look at what I’ve done, I scream my blatant confession,
Ready to blame anyone, for my evil molestation,
Where does my true love go, when demons raise their gruesome head,
Destroying all I know, without slightest hesitation,
There is no where to hide, hideous deeds - infinite dread,
Shame crushes senseless pride, nothing left but devastation,
Recoiling in horror, reality enters the room,
Now begins the torture, judgment of my now mortal soul,
The evil that is me, my conscious has become my tomb,
I look and all I see, marks my spirit and takes its toll,
Where does salvation go, when demons raise their awful screech,
Making damnation grow, as dark shadows envelope me,
How can I persevere, and escape from this demon’s reach,
For he is always near, and may kill eventually,
Cold and chilling insight, I now realize what is at stake,
And the one path which might, protect the ones I truly love,
But how can I just leave, this world I worked so hard to make,
And cause even more grief, for family and God above.
Where does my resolve go, when demons raise their deadly claws,
Tearing at all I know, stealing my conscious care and pride,
I can’t run anymore, all is destroyed everything lost,
Now beaten tired and sore, I’ve lost my path into the light,
Who can I reach out to, when all I love recoil in fear,
Eyes beseech black and blue, where once was love - now only hate,
Yes I know - I’m the cause, the reason for each falling tear,
And while demons give pause, I must face my terrible fate.
Form:
I wrote this about the recent passing of my mother, Annette. She was a rock, kind and
loving, my confidant and best friend - a Godly woman. I miss her already, deeply.
She died on January 24th, 2009 at 10:30 p.m. due to complications of a UTI that went
septic through her system, and a blood clot that formed in her foot. She suffered and
painfully fought for three weeks... she was facing multiple amputations of all her limbs
and multiple organ failure. She was only 61.
My heart was imprinted greatly with her love and I am thankful for her. She made me so
much of who I am today.
Letting Go
by Amy Swanson
Letting go
of things that I
once held dear, believed in
My soul
stripped bare
in agony, for all the world to see
Heart beats
yet
it feels so cold inside
Silence
sits like stone
in my spirit.
Life has led us
on this
journey...
but one lonely road
sought us out with furious speed;
A road that was not wanted or desired.
How can you
be so accepting?
How can you
not be angry, as I am?
How can you
... still believe?
...and how will I
ever again believe...?
I feel as though life took a wrong turn...
or someone didn't write the script correctly...
it wasn't supposed to be this way.
I weep
great sobbing tears
that threaten to rip out my very essence
The pain so sharp
like knives of ice
The judgment harsh
unfair and undeserved
Sternly....
mercilessly...
delivered.
They say that there is peace in death
but there was none
only cruel suffering
that should not have been allowed;
torment inflicted
poor bruised body
until
so still you lay...
life was no more.
I ask, "What meaning can there be?"
I strain to hear the answer
but there is no response...
only unwavering silence.
A part of me will never be the same.
Existence I now view with different eyes.
if zee al chemist trump doth win go hide in the bunker
to save your ass
brace yourself as this don holed
confabulates that gold iz brass
and conjures prestidigitation
like spinning false hoods in2 truth - crass
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
a synonym force head fabricator -
will threaten democracy, thus be afraid
as this pompous voice quotes
from hiz playbook, which = a charade
the hard core truths, he
(who i liken to the plague) doth evade
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
and dreams up fault of Barack Obama
for extinction of dinosaurs,
crucifixion of Jesus Christ
down fall of the Roman Empire,
or far tethered Fred Flintsone ca fetching an escapade
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
yea...this rip pub lick'n presidential contender
evinces a psyche that did brexit n got frayed
building and monopolizing castles in the sky -
nonexistent as a grade
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
school fib - or donning role
as play ground bully teaming with ivan
the terrible to dominate the greensward
in the above fiction, but...man
that loose canon dressing his
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
"make america great again" gag line - whar i ran
and mid eastern countries will rise
as one cheering him as star of global hit parade
despite any raging oppositional pandaemonium
birth er ring a conflagration
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
kenya believe the world acquiesces
to thine projected masquerade
blocking im grate shunning crowds -
which number of people rival in size
taller (if stack one atop thee other)
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
than the trump tower casino or high rise
with his signature - hm...mebbe funds provided
by drug lords, the swedish house mafia
or terrorist ties???
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
whom security details silence by tossing a hand grenade
sham on you Potemkin village people for quaffing draughts
from elixir purportedly to transform visage with trademark
swept back, wavy and coiffed hirsute.
Form:
Given as a gift from Germany to Kabul zoo in Afghanistan
No fields to run in - just a miserable enclosed barren land
You were blessed with a beautiful lioness partner, Chucha
She must have made you feel no less than a majestic Shah
You survived against all the invasions, and the bloody wars
Behind those dark miserably cramped closed barring doors
You were a survivor, that against all the cruelly made odds
Was even threaten to be killed, by the unholy Taliban sods
But your loyal keeper fought for your life, using the Quran
With the prophet Muhammad to aid you to all understand
That an animal is to be respected, he also had his own pets
To kill Marjan, would in the end, will leave you with regrets
But you were brought down by an egotistical Mujahedeen
Who you killed for mauling your Chucha for fun it seemed
In turn the killed brother gave you three grenades as a gift
The damage it caused you was more than deserved - swift
You lost your sight in one eye and near all of it in the other
Because of a under deserving revenge of a grieved brother
You lost all of your teeth, with the blast all of your hearing
Yet you survived, to Afghans, you became more endearing
That they took it upon themselves to then kill this very man
For the ignorance of the situation as he did not understand
You had thought this man was a threat to your lioness pride
As it was in the end his own fault he was attacked then died
As the wars in Afghanistan raged so did the famine drought
When it came to food for you there was too little of it about
But the Afghan people gathered in force to see you were fed
No one wanted the Shah Marjan from hunger be found dead
You came through all of this, skin sagging on a frame so lean
But for it all, never did once made you ferocious or be mean
Your beloved keeper walked with you within your enclosure
Despite your injuries you always maintained your composure
Your name travelled the world, and they wished you the best
But after a quarter of a century you then laid yourself to rest
This tribute is to you mera jaan Marjan – the pearl of Afghanistan
May you always with Chucha, fly free, high above this desert land
Higher and higher with the longed for eternal peace may you soar
As the winds carry along with it your once mighty and proudly roar
The mists of time,
they once more dissipate,
we return to mighty Alahsar,
come, my Lords and Ladies,
come. on golden wings,
Alahsar,
the golden beauty of dreams,
it does await us in its wonder.
The mists now clear,
we now see great glory,
in its golden splendour,
the dream called Alahsar dows stand,
as you may remember,
there was great revelry within,
a night of celebration did sing,
it was rivalled by no other.
Hearken to my words,
the song shall now go on,
The revelry sings in the streets,
great joy is singing,
there was joy and merriment,
in great abundance,
every soldier, not on duty,
they were within a dwelling.
They were not alone,
much mead was flowing,
their joy was abundantly clear,
they now had their play,
primal passion was the dance,
on the first level,
to primal passion,
these warriors put their strength.
Upward, on level two,
the streets full of revellers,
couples dancing,
men showing their prowess, in games of strength,
such fun and frivolity,
the storm above, in its full glory,
A cheer goes up, cries carried aloft,
"The Dark Man comes."
There is much shaking of hands,
many hugs of friendship,
tonight, the people were one,
there were no petty feuds.
The Tigress, now arriving on level four,
her eyes gaze upward,
men, women and children play around her.
Now, voices are raised in songs of victory,
how sweet is the sound,
songs that would fill the warrior's heart with pride,
songs sung of a far antiquity,
also, of course,
songs sung of the golden king's exploits.
Songs of praise, ringing in the ears,
to the greatness of dream's mighty jewel,
songs that heap golden praise,
upon the majesty of the golden king,
loud and proud, voices hang in the air,
Alahsar, the golden jewel, alive with golden song.
now, for one moment,
our thoughts leave the merriment,
this was a troubled time for the golden king,
darkness did threaten the golden kingdom,
Only the golden king and his advisors knew this.
The golden king,
who, this night,
would drink the cup of celebration,
tomorrow, he may drink the dregs of sorrow's cup,
before an untimely end,
enough for the 'morrow my Lords and Ladies,
we look to the night of celebration,
let Alahsar praise the Dark Man,
let Alahsar praise all those he led to victory.
To Be Continued..........
In May of seventeen seventy-nine
Henry Clinton was having a hard time,
so tired of the rebels still fighting,
had to somehow get Gorge Washington
out of the looming Hudson Highlands,
and then force the war to a final ending.
He marched his army to the north
meaning to shut down King’s Ferry,
threaten West Point and draw them out,
determined to up the ante,
no nonsense was he to bandy,
his men took Stony Point.
With the King’s Ferry now block and closed,
across the Hudson supplies couldn’t go,
Washington found himself in a hard place,
with a foothold beneath the Hudson Peaks
the British now could his main camps seek,
he could not let himself be displaced.
From atop a nearby mountain
he saw the British were building
abbatis and gun emplacements,
with scarlet the point was filling,
he knew that there’d soon be killing,
he would retake Stony Point.
But then the British made a mistake,
trying to set bait Washington would take,
sent Tyron to raid towards New Haven,
but Washington was not a damned fool,
he saw what they were trying to do,
and in the Hudson Highlands he remained.
Drew up a new plan of attack,
then Mad Anthony Wayne he called,
a general of temper and great skill,
they would see the British fort fall,
the garrison their troops would maul,
they would take Stony Point.
See when the British had fortified,
they had forgotten the river had tides,
and that a beach would soon be exposed.
It was a long shot, but one they would take,
if they could get behind the lines would break,
so only the best troops were picked to go.
No bullets would be in their guns,
stealth and steel would be their choice,
the only way they could be sure,
detection they had to avoid,
there really was no other choice
to penetrate Stony Point.
Wayne then split his forces into three
to face Britain’s seven hundred fifty
and sent Murfree to face the center,
his job was to raise hell and distract,
while to the north Butler’s troops would track,
from the south Wayne’s main force would enter.
At midnight they would all attack,
Under cover of the deep night,
white papers were stuck in their hats,
so they could see who not to fight,
bayonets set to stab and bite,
they marched for Stony Point...
CONCLUDES IN PART II
Convoluted; buoyant, defiant contention,
sleeps in the corridors of mind.
Dreaming of release from constricted womb,
in portraits of terror, undeserving.
Memories of ancient; promised ascension,
returning, discerning, by design.
Opens vacant eye wish; to murky clouds of doom,
suffocation; signaling, unnerving.
Father Time is tiring; musing on his throne,
queen is overdue, for a son.
Females halt the flow; murderous reprieve,
questions for the kingdom, yet unsolved.
Advisers inquiring; gathering of stone,
debating precious things with loaded gun.
Reputation swallows; reasons to conceive,
if harvest isn't held by hands of God.
I will not condone; the emperor sans his clothes;
jesters are not captured in these frames.
So the uprising; stirs a rhapsody,
genius can quell dark regression.
Tampered comfort zones; threaten to expose,
witch trials complete with charred remains.
In the downsizing of my voracity,
the fated have no time for confession.
Through much dissension; and chartered celebration,
clutching spirits huddle in the night.
Harem is debating; adorned with feathered fears,
eager whisperings exiting to pray.
Spiraled inquisition; guiding my elation,
to thwart the scheme of hallowed parasite.
The lady in waiting; not controlled by tears,
no dirges for dead offspring hold sway.
And so I writhe; thighs chained fast,
by bonds of here; now, and then.
Conceptual delight; yesterday seduced,
hearing the midwife's joyous scream.
Empty arms beckon; to be filled at last,
I drink this beauty down like sin.
Swaddled in velvet; guarded by truth,
caressed by a mother's sacred dream.
Lost in sweet illusion of tiny sapphire eyes,
measuring the wonder that I see.
So in conclusion; genderless surprise,
this child of newborn word resembles me.