Long Thuds Poems
Long Thuds Poems. Below are the most popular long Thuds by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thuds poems by poem length and keyword.
An echo of footsteps fill the serene salty air,
muffled thuds like faint taps in slow motion,
moving in a somber sonata over a creaking pier.
The bitter breeze is a harbinger of forthcoming storms,
but in an empty promenade the silence is soothing.
My anchor heart finds comfort at the sun shimmering,
upon a lullaby of waves calming the senses,
I lose my thoughts, almost forget myself,
as they softly caress moist sands,
sinking deep into trodden grains,
each ripple touching my hollow soul
like messengers of prophecies,
with sweet premonitions of pleasure and treasure,
but some resemble embers eternally burning,
leaving behind a directory of debris,
engraving intensely, as each fragment
weighs me down like burdens from a wreckage.
The mind ponders,
how I am a northern shore
whilst my life is a southern coastline.
What could have been and what will be,
what is mine and what is not,
what I actually deserve and what I have got.
In these internal fragilities,
we are like estuaries without an embankment.
But in this stillness the sunset is evidence
how the end can be graceful.
I gaze towards the ceaseless seas,
wishing the tide could carry me away,
but I am a broken boat left to rot
upon cold sands on a winters day.
Sunday Scribble
From the first of my birth
Until my dying days
I lived life expecting the worse in every case
Night times I couldn’t sleep
Seemed stress had me over whelmed
To strong to weep
A fatal crush no individual would care to keep
An unforgiving face no man was prepared to meet
Through the mud and water
Brutal thuds, a careless mans order
I smiled only to allow my spectators to live worry free
In my deepest thoughts
I only visualized those who would stand and burry me
Ashes to ashes, mysterious flashes
Unto my final lay
My surroundings seem to hurry me
What else is one suppose to do
A failing adolescent whom rose to truth
Dreamt upon soothing times
To remove me from these shackles in my mind
A prison, a convict’s yard
I couldn’t escape, seems the sun picks the bar’d
A broken ornament, a gift from the scar’d
The emotional down pours that reveal who we are
Who’s to say I’d never change
Only to grow to be the same tainted man
Reality dawns upon my blister painted hands
From alternators and scrap metal parts
Only to submit them to junk yards
For a true earned strained heart
That’s no lie; I learned my true hand to poverty
Casualties missing me, meant to be slobbery
Imprints of a father chasing after me
Now that the world prays me gone
I reside beneath my own shadow
Dwell against this concrete walk way all alone
No regret spots for me, suffering is my only home
Shall it be a merciful dawn, once it’s all shown?
Questions for which I can not answer on my own
Teary nights, not enough said in past conversations
Deep within your regrets I could feel you mourn
A painful constipation
Subordinate clauses, fallen from the wrong information
Now above the stars
I’m sheltered in my own constellation
So go on, bury me
To my enemies, this is the last of me
Please bury me
No interest in your sympathy
Bury me
Storm
Storm approaches with "wailing" winds
Fierce faced clouds "whoosh" across the sky
Lightning "crackles" then "snaps" and "pops"
Thunder "rumbles" with heart "pounding" "thuds."
Autumn leaves "scrape" across sidewalks
Then turn silver in torrent’s "rustle"
Windstorm "slams" into the trees
"Howling" "whispers" turns to "shivers"
Shutters "bang" in the "roaring" wind
Raindrops "sizzle" on dry earth
Downpours "splash" in growing puddles
Gutters "drip" – downspouts "gurgle."
Passing storm slows to a "trickle"
With "pitter-patters" of tiny raindrops
Water "drips" from leaves in clear "trickles"
Like a soothing fountain "burble."
Note: Am still having trouble with bold or underlining function so I put the onomatopoeia words in parenthesis.
10-26-21
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Contest: Onomatopoeia
I, Lazarus*, have seen the brickwork sky,
Its throne is made of night!
Its salt and lime are drying to the eye,
My wandering…
a sound! a rumble, and a flash of light!
HHHHHHH! How sweet first breath!
That tasting life had tasted only death!
And what is THIS, that thuds against my tomb?
Awaken, Heart! And greet thy new-found groom!
Who is HE, that speaks with sudden waking,
As though forgotten dawn was newly breaking?
I cannot know, though memory tells me so,
I am a Man, and not a man of dough!
O bright the door that leads me back to life!
But, bidden! I must change my sleep for strife!
Thank you, heart-friend!
I thought that you’d forgot!
Who made me breathe, ‘I AM!’ when I was not.
Forgive! I cannot hear, my head’s like snow,
AH! That’s it, ‘loose the man, and let him go!'
1/31/2017
__________
*Lazarus was a friend of Jesus Christ, who raised him from the dead
From Noonlight to Moonlight
I'll chance to mention a jaunt once took, along a sloping ridge; coming up steady o'er jakes ravine, cross the creaking pinewood bridge, tethering up the hosses, to a half charred lightening stricken tree; we gazed right down the 'scarpment at cattle roaming free after muffling up our riding boots in swathes of Hessian brown; stooping right over we made our way, by the darker shadowed ground, we got to to a stand of trees, that offered the needed hide; scuttling there as quick as quick, until we were inside made sure no herders were present, heard no sounds borne on the breeze; we picked out a couple of young heifers, this side of some bouldered scree then raising our crossbows silently, as moonglow licked each bolt; we loosed ..Whoosk.! the thuds)) sounded so strong you almost felt the jolt.: did i see a gleam in Mikkies eye?? could it be a heartfelt tear?? I said we had no real choice you know, my voice edged with tension & fear, a quick smile shot right back at me, as gazing deep in my eyes; she gave a hard kick into my shin, catching me by surprise!! saying now while I' affix the lariats Joe, you vamoose up the mountainside; get the horses and drags back soon, in case the rancher makes a ride, so I lit out for the ridge crest, my heart was beating wild." While swearing that damn hussey's more capricious than a wayward child; once on the ridge i scramble down, back to the waiting steeds quickly pulling the halters loose, my mind intent on speed!! soon I'm back with Mikkie, we pull the heifers onto the drags; then we're coaxing our horses up that draw!! headed for the safety of our own distant and shadowy crags. copyright Joe Maverick.co.uk
I stare into your eyes. Your smile so full and
bright
I think of and hear the sound of your voice.
I close my eyes and see your soft skin touching
me
I feel your breath, your warmth, your grace so
near to me.
I hear the whistle go
I feel my heart becoming cold
For now the time is here
Time for innocence and love to disappear
I look at your smiling face
I say a prayer for you and the human race
I put your picture in my chest pocket next
to my heart
Hoping if I die we will never part
The sludge of mud and blood under feet
Running now towards death soon to meet
The thuds of men hitting the ground
The cries and screams surround
Fear takes a hold of me
Rage burns a hole in me
I kill what's in front of me
Bayonet stabs so viciously
I feel the temper die
I pretend I hear a lie
To retreat, to retreat!
I see them come at me
Through the smoke I hear their
battle roars
I am spent, I can fight no more
Shot several times I feel no pain
I hit the ground where I will remain
I try to find the picture of you
I look at your pretty, smiling face
My eyes subdue, I feel deaths embrace
I tighten my grip around the picture of you
I rest my eyes to die knowing...
I truly love you.
Wearisome Thuds and Music Thru the Wall
Brown, red, cinder walls, sounds from down the halls
Walls so thin the sounds echo off the walls
Woken by someone knocking on my door
Hush! Listen! It’s the stranger from next door
I fret and sweat, I'm so very upset
Will he complain about my lazy pet?
Slowly, lock my door, not making a sound
Quiet snort and very slow turnaround
A peep hole look beyond the door he calls
With shawl over my shoulders, my pet crawls
A hiding place kiddy and I to pray
Good night I say that he will stay away
5/13/2016 Revised
Who's Your Neighbor
Brown, red, cinder walls
Sounds from down the halls
Someone knocking on my door
It’s the stranger from next door
I fret and sweat, I'm so upset
Wonder if he likes lazy pets
A peep hole look was a let down
Beer belly, short, dressed like a clown
Quiet snort and a turnaround
Lock my door not making a sound
9/8/2015
It's not really fair for the one who stays in fear of being defeated, whose choices are swept away by the other's single choice is a single self.
It's not really fear that keeps one too near to the One whose freedom is strangled by tendons not tender.
It's not really tears that tear one up, while rage rallies beneath the veneer of endless courtesy and, no others hear or care to see tears turn to spikes of glass and facade.
It's not really reasonable when one can't appear, to not want to be here, can't stand to sit here while others over there admire ones choice, because they don't have to be here.
It's not really real, dare not say how one feels for dread of dull thuds from sharp judges’ mental mallets.
It's not really just, when fine lines so thin, keep one wrong or right where they want one.
It's not really good when one lonely one side steps tomorrow to stop feeling.
Sorry.
Forest Fire Devastation
Careless person with a campfire decided to leave without putting it out.
Animals knew something was up when they heard crackling all about.
Full blown forest fire, trees were popping and falling down with thuds.
The animals were leaving quickly, but their nose was full of cruds.
Air was difficult to breathe, many animals succumbed to the smoke.
Quality of the forest was something not easy to breathe, it was broke.
Animals laid down, and waited for the end, exhausted and full of fear.
Heard the trees popping, as the fire got incredibly close and near.
Birds left before the ground turned an ugly horrible black.
Quick devastation; deceased animals were not coming back.
Woods began to smell like death. There was a feeling of rage and hate.
Human fire fighters soon arrived, but they were way too late.
Craziest time in virulent living
when protest is black and white to erase
invisibility
when fueled rage overtakes urban pockets of beauty
when the ash from smoking crater anger sears
public spaces
or an insurrection unachors reason
Shifting focus from a virus, hot iron of deep confusion
Pandemic cruelty to the unprotected masses
Indelible marks of worry
Frayed threads of crazy in trenches of stand off
A nightly-news world reduced to sound bites
Are we on the right side of change?
A turnstile that thuds constraints and fury
Hard scrabble life, a gnarly tale
No sleeping bag comfort
in living, oxygen thin
with nothing left to conceal
Hope sustained in the roulette wheel of history
that breakdown is temporal
that an impasse will give voice to the suffering
that things strained heal
Even the iron-cold ground boasts transformation.
Poem revised: October 9, 2021