Long Thudding Poems
Long Thudding Poems. Below are the most popular long Thudding by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thudding poems by poem length and keyword.
In a quiet night of deep sleep
The blankets harbor me – the night to unfold
A myriad of dreams my unspoken secrets keep
As cinematic stories attempting to be told
The curtains open while orchestral music sweeps
Awakening chaotic shapes from my subconscious mode
Faintly rising as poltergeist’s breath that creeps
Through blasting winds from raging storms so bold
My heart pounds like thudding wolf’s feet
I sneak into dense groves of trees lined with gold
Where upon the ground white bones sleep
As I fall to disappear like mist into the fold
Overhead, ferocious menacing sky breaks
With bolts of green jagged crystals - Behold!
Crashing through a cat’s eye as gargantuan streaks
That quake and pound the ground, then explode
A distant caterwauling yowls in throats that shriek
Mauling the earth with penetrating claws exposed
As ashen fang gleams as it thrusts to pierce and seek
The taking of blood slashing, so fiercely, so bold
I feel the weight upon my chest and cheek
The vibrations of fear are purring. then implode
As my breath quickens….. I awaken to peek
And there he sits – waking from his sleep
My big black cat looking utterly freaked!
July 3, 2022
City At Night
by Edmund Siejka
It was cold outside
I hadn’t shaved in days and I was hungry
I was going to walk it
Only a few blocks
Through the same streets I walked every day
So how bad could it be
At 1 AM?
The Diner’s neon sign
Shone in sharp relief in the night.
A greasy spoon type of place
Inexpensive meals
And large portions.
The waiter leaned against the chrome soda dispenser
Dark circles under his eyes
Anything good? I asked
Everything’s good he answered
Quickly taking my order
He resumed his post.
I’ve been coming here for awhile and I don’t ever think I saw you around
Without turning around
I answered the stranger
I’m just getting something to eat.
I’ve been around lots of places he said
And I think I can spot a victim of disappointment
I’m a writer by day and at night a denizen of the streets
Because of who I am I have become frugal
So, I eat here to stay alive.
Ignoring him I started eating
When his chair creaked and swiveled
I caught sight of his back when he left.
I left the Diner around 2 am
Footsteps echoed around me
Anxious I looked around
To be sure
I was alone.
Up ahead
Two men were talking
The taller of the two leaned against a car
Arms crossed against his chest
Watching me as I got closer
Cold night, isn’t it? he asked.
My breath curled out in the frigid night
I carefully answered,
Yes, it’s a little cold
Out for a night time stroll? he inquired
Before I could answer, the shorter of the two turned away
It was then I quickly turned
And hurriedly walked away.
Behind me the thudding sound of a car door slammed shut
Loud laughter broke the quiet of the night
Theirs was a private joke
And I was the intruder.
Powerfully displayed in a coat
Of brilliant crimson, alive
With flaming wings dancing in a dewy
Glimmer of morning sunlight
Washing the dawn with a vivid
Flash or color so animated
It breathes joy into the start
Of this new day, this new light
This new thought
I wonder at its constant thumping
Against the image it sees on the sliding
Glass door – where he glimpses himself
And must think, despite the mourning,
That he has finally found her, the one
Who he mated with once upon a time –
Mated with for life – forever and always
Their love was supposed to have lasted
Eternally without parting
He creates a flash of stunning scarlet
As he knocks a ‘thud’ against the glass
Where a mirrored image of himself
Keeps him coming back for her, his bride
The bird that flew from his life
On some dazzling morning, rich like this one
Rays embracing the skin like a prayer
Quiet and gentle, the image of inspiration
A dream awakening
Will this cardinal ever give up and move on
Find another lady to bring him solace?
His steady knock on the sliding door is becoming
A nuisance as annoying as a dripping faucet
Tapping – thudding – slamming into the glass
With an endless optimism, sure he’ll eventually
Uncover the love of his life, the mate
Who is no longer there to tell him that
His feat is already defeated and he needs to
Give it up before he finally gives into the grief
Crashes into the glass too swiftly and commits
Suicide, the ultimate downfall of his winged pursuit
His chasing of a shadow, the reflection of his hope
Widowed, he aches for his beloved
Defeated, he never gives up
The breath of hope whispering in his ear
Reflecting off the fear that he has lost her
His winged wife
For life
This or That Volume 2 Poetry Contest
TITLE CHOSEN - Forlorn Hope
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
April 11, 2021
from this temple way up high
I see the city of gold below me,
and it shines no more.
What I help build with my hands,
now condemns me...is my curse.
I can see the great kingdom,
Strong with the kings might,
but damned with all his bold.
The jungle may breaths life
but for me it casts dark shadows of death.
In death there is glory,
so I will not shed a tear of sorrow.
For I'm a fearless man...a brave man.
And know a cowards spirit is taken into the underworld,
a place where the devils and demons dwell.
Where there is the colour of red,
there will be the colour of black.
Where there is light...there must be dark.
Upon my mind the shadows fall,
the darkness has taken my soul.
Thudding in my ears rumbles the sound of a drumbeat,
and I hear the distant sounds of the pipes as they play a tune
A tune that calls my name to the jungle.
Chants surround me as a trance befalls me.
I`m not quite alive...not quite dead.
As I lay upon my stone throne
the sky...the priest in my line of sight.
A dagger hovers over my spirit's light.
I am blinded by the daggers gleam
I see my beating heart the hands of this bloodlust priest,
and also see the feathered serpent flying.
Flying down from the empire beyond the clouds
to take my spirit to meet the gods that look upon us all.
The gods who determine this civilisations fate.
the gods who are judge and executioner
But these are the gods whose
ream I will now forever reside and feast.
I hope they now are appeased,
so upon this ground may their light shine.
To bless us with endless bounties.
To keep this civilisation forever free.
Change...we all must bear witness to.
For one day the mighty will eventually fall,
and be written into
the damning book of souls.
--------
written for the book of souls contest.
Not sure what this is growing from within
feeling like the quiet crescendo of a violin
rising higher, feather-floating up through the air
the intensity keeps building, and I am made aware
of the color of my soul - the emotions that I hide
the feel of the rollercoaster as I get on to ride
the dips are so fast the turns so exciting
the thrill is sweet and quite inviting
the laughter erupts from deep within my belly
it makes me feel like I am in a tub full of jelly
soothing and delightful, such sweet bliss
like the feel of the flutter after a first kiss
violin playing, gently and low,
the rollercoaster begins to slow
does it have to change when I climb off
the thudding of my heart will beat soft...
Content yet wanting more will be my request
this is what its like in the middle of happiness....
Form:
Should Dina Gloat
Dina’s story starts with, Should I gloat or not.
For more than thirty years Dina lived at her address in a first floor flat. Her neighbour above her gave her no trouble. It was hard to tell if he was in or not, he was so quiet. Her neighbour suddenly fell ill and left the property and within weeks he moved out.
The flat was empty for a few weeks while the landlord was refurbishing it.
All of a sudden, someone moved in. The amount of thudding, noise, and loud music coming from the flat was horrendous. Dina went upstairs to ask the new neighbour not to make so much noise. It was a woman she apologized and said it won’t happen again. Dina thought that was the end. When the woman upstairs invited men round the thudding got louder and this went on for weeks. Even when Dina used the bathroom the thudding and crashing of heavy objects didn’t stop. It was then she realised that the woman was a drug addict and did drugs nearly all day. The only people that would come to her flat were drug addicts doing drugs. The smashing of heavy objects onto the ceiling went on for months. The authorities didn’t do anything. If Dina complained to the landlord the thudding would be worse to the point of jumping up and down on the roof.
Eventually one day while Dina was sitting in a war zone as she thought she heard cries for help. It was the woman upstairs being attacked by one of her druggie friends. Dina stayed quiet and listened and did nothing. All Dina could do remember the number of bashings on the ceiling and the terrible nights she had sleeping and being afraid of going out.
The druggie managed to make it to her door and run out flat with her being chased by a drugged up male.
Dina laughed, she couldn’t believe this happened to such a nasty person. Who knows who called the police and the male druggie was arrested in the street. After a week the female druggie packed her bags and left.
All Dina could do now was laugh her head off but didn’t say a word to anyone. She wonders if she should gloat or not. If it happened again, she would not lift a finger to help.
My knuckles are raw from the cold subway pole,
and the guy next to me smells like damp wool and cheap coffee.
He’s staring at a cracked phone screen,
his thumb scrolling past headlines, dinners, divorces.
We don’t talk.
Nobody talks here.
But under his heavy black winter coat,
somewhere behind his lint-covered tie,
a small fist of muscle is slamming against his ribs.
Thump.
It’s a clumsy, desperate noise,
like an old radiator knocking in a basement.
It keeps time against the black tunnel outside the window,
a persistent thudding negotiation with the dark
that just asks for enough time to get to Tuesday.
We walk around pretending we own the sidewalk,
worrying about the rent, the teeth that need fixing,
the text message left on "read."
Every wet breath is a lease renewal
signed in the dark without our permission.
I look at the girl across from me,
her eyeliner smudged from a long shift.
Her chest rises.
The cold world looks the other way,
indifferent,
and lets her have another minute to figure it out.
It’s not a grand design.
It's just a truce.
A messy, fragile truce,
kept alive by a pound of red meat
stubbornly refusing to stop hitting the wall.
When I thought of dreamland
Sleeping
The dozy dreams-cape dazing
Deep into that darkness shuddering
Nightmares
I crave the trembling, thudding tingle
In my shrieking, I could not awaken
Chattering and chattering with my fairy tale
Am I in dreamland
Shall I dream now
Quietly
Yawning, rubbing my eyes
In my shrieking, I awaken
As ghouls throw its ghost against the dreamscapes
Remembering many thudding, epic nocturnes
Is this a nightmare or is it cramps, pangs and pain from something I ate
I'm in dreamland my nightmares got me by the hand
Please, please somebody wake me for in my dreams I'm scared
Nightmares
Keeping me in fear in here DrEaMlAnD
8/2/19
written words by James Edward Lee Sr., 2019©
The bell rang once, a faint tingle;
clear, sharp in the cold, numbing air
yet strangely muffled in the mist.
All heard it, the distant, single;
ting, behind the droning prayer.
Though not a soul among their midst
affirmed each other that they heard.
The rope slid by black-gloved fingers
while the casket heavily sunk,
The vicar’s final mournful word
hangs above them all and lingers;
another ding, a thudding clunk.
Eyes quickly turn towards each other
others stare towards the ringing sound.
Disturbed unkindness ravens crow
above a grave; Elsie’s brother
interred beneath this Holy ground;
some twenty-seven years ago!
Unseasonal summer rains at once burst
Everywhere litter and garbage dispersed
Making men run here and there for shelter
In no time, life becomes helter-skelter
Unexpected like facing an old friend
Heat waves turn into zephyrs in the end
Enraptured by a great relief to hearts
Pleasant weather diffused in many parts
Unlucky for farmers who toiled year long
Grains stay afloat; a heart rendering song
In the wink of an eye, things go tumbled
Happy dreams about their kindred crumbled
Unkind like a bad master who reviles
Vicious arrows of words for making trials
With tongue lashing, makes the servants feel hurt
As huge hailstones thudding down with a spurt
Unfurls an eye feasting vibrant rainbow
Cleans air and makes leaves look fresh and aglow
Koel starts singing as if spring gets back
A curtain raiser to ‘Fall’ next on track
Place: 2nd