Long Torched Poems
Long Torched Poems. Below are the most popular long Torched by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Torched poems by poem length and keyword.
Das dada = codified bonafide anachronism
me thoughts infused
with thom hankering for yesteryear
circa antebellum i.e.
American Civil War era veer
rilly, teetering, smoldering, rumbling
upon iniquitous tier
United States greenacres crossroads
with petticoat junction spear
ritually hexed courtesy anti abolitionists
pitted against unfair
slavery, yours truly spellbound
gravitating, fixating, entrancing,
an invisible sonneteer
disembodied spirit transported
back in time,
qua closing first decade
of twenty century aware
how historical events will unfold,
yet lacking means
to affect alternate outcome,
though yearning to spare
fledgling democracy deaf to blare
ring coming fury me unseen
relishing preponderant naiveté
and childlike innocence
before internecine warfare
many stripling young lads,
yet to sprout facial hair
trumpeting, scampering, rejoicing
after favored lass with no care
gathering rosebuds while they may
before their brave hearts got
touched, torched, taxed...
with fire, ah... so cavalier
wondering, speculating, nursing
curiously piqued how adaware
those who frolicked
within Autumn mist did revere
observing what didst appear
oblivious laughter and attitude
analogous to good cheer
omnipresent at Renaissance Faire,
no doubt trials and tribulations
compromised welfare
envious countless scores generations
past knew not global threats,
nonetheless societal fabric circa
early/mid nineteenth century
severely wrenched when
Emancipation Proclamation didst declare
manumision, though sadly
blatant anti semitism, bigotry, racism...,
trumpeted within rank putrid odor
doth still fill the air!
The tale of the sinister Prime Minister of Israel
Latest eruption but your corruption will not avail
Wiles and guile on trial as does rile and defile
Knows if loses his job..without fail going to jail
Beyond the pale conned so can derail & impale
With war crimes of such scale no comeback trail
Lebanon carry on in his coffin will be the final nail
Political suicide Persian incursion Gaza genocide
Should be tried lied about Iran as folks fried died
Benjy the truth denied said plied with Israeli pride
Ghoulish prankster & foolish gangster can't hide
Missiles flied but hard as he's tried end of the ride
All did begin with Benjamin chagrin making a din
But his entire liar empire on fire torched from within
Every debauched sin held to account no more spin
No matter colour of skin Zionist zealot plot must bin
Burn Benjy burn return to concern about kindred & kin
The Netanyahu retinue in full view cannot continue
What will he do well facts & pacts will skew & slew
Vicious acts hate does imbue pernicious plans pursue
Will still spew discerning they're now turning the screw
Critics form a queue too late your fate coming for you
Will rue the wars he does renew well let him fret and stew
Always biffing and tiffing like he's been sniffing some glue
Because boo hoo after another boo-boo you're in poo
Phew and about time too..
The star fragment has chosen another.
Darling, if your heart is righteous—
and if you desire to guard the cosmos,
I will wait a hundred years for you.
When these colors fade to grey,
you’re a million miles away.
Galaxy heart, soar as high as you want my love.
Torched within, I yearn for those eyes once more.
These endless cycles of night and day,
light and darkness, they both exist inside.
I must see you again.
Yet, I can’t bear the torment of isolation.
Spilling grounds, wind cyclones, eruptions.
Signs of your imminent arrival.
I can’t endure this anymore.
My time here has been a spec in the span of your quest.
The power of the cosmos
My galactic empress.
Now that the storm has finally come,
I wait patiently in the field of flowers.
Dreaming of seeing my shooting star once more.
I haven’t forgotten your canvas, paramour.
If I must wait another hundred years,
I will follow your path of stardust.
Because that is the will of the heavens,
the fate determined by the stars.
Taunting nightmares emerge in the night
Wiggling their way through the gray to appear
In sharp colored images of the acute hindsight
Shooed away from the light of reality’s sear
Torched to misty nothings in busy moments
Endlessly they wait for the dark they don’t fear
Damned is the path that flows with heart’s intent
Doubly damned in the wishful forgetting
Rousing demons that thrive on torments
Etching, they grind-scratch in a bloodletting
Amorphous artists that rearrange the real
Making sure there’s a sensed regretting
Zealously, they carve into the now surreal
(8/25/2020: ’96 Sea Ray 400; Bethel Is.)
MARIETTE TURNER RICCARDO FROM OLD PHOTOGRAPHS FROM MY GRANDFATHERS COLLECTION OF SHOW GIRLS FROM HIS 1968 VEGAS MAZAGINE CHRISTMAS EDITIONS HOWEVER MARIETTA WAS MUCH MORE THAN THAT A JEWISH WOMAN WHOSE HUSBAND WAS CAPTURED DURINGWW11 MY GRANDFATHER TOLD ME SHE WOULD COME TO THE CAMP WEARING ONLY A FUR COAT MY POP WOULD HELP HER VISIT HER HUSBAND WHO WAS CAPTURED BY HITLER'S MEN AT ANYRATE AS I MOVED BACK NORTH STOPPING IN MARIETTA GEORGIA CROWN MOTEL SUFFERING TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY AFTER WITNESSING A MURDER AND FOR HURRICANES I CREATED MARIETTA KEATING A CHARACTER OF SORTS I WAS QUITE DESPERATE TRYING TO KEEP CIRO GARGANO AND HIS CRONIES FROM EXTORTING MY POETRY HE LATCHED ON TO MY POETRY ACTUALLY TRIED TO PAY JOHN GOTTI JR MAFIA DEBT. BY EXTORTING MY LIFE TO FEED TO THE GAMBINO CRIME FAMILY TO SETTLE HIS SCORES OVER THE PROPERTY ON SHERIDAN ROAD HIS TAILOR SHOP IDEA THAT FLEW OUT THE WINDOW WHEN HE TORCHED THE BUILDINGS TRIED TO WRITE AND HIDE FROM A MAD BOMBER USED CAR SALESMAN MILWAUKEE CRIME BOSS ARSONIST WHO LITERALLY BLEW MY BRAINS OUT GARGANO WAS ACTUALLY EXTORTING MY POETRY RACKETEERING MY POETRY TO SETTLE SCORES WITH GOTTI SO I REMEMBERED JOHNNY DEPP SECRET WINDOW HE ALSO WROTE IN A PENN NAME THIS ALLOWED ME TO WRITE WITHOUT THE STRESS OF GARGANO RIPPING MY TITLES HACKING INTO THE POETRY SIGHT AND WELL MARIETTA KEATING WAS BORN SO WAS HOLIDAY BILLIE CPL KING MARIETTA RICCARDO MERLOT YES AFTER A GLASS OF MERLOT I BELIEVED THIS ALLOWED ME A SAFE SPACE TO WRITE IN COMPLETE PRIVACY IT IS TRULY HARD BEING A WRITER PRIVACY IS EVERYTHING THANK YOU MARIETTA KEATING WE MADE LOVELY MUSIC TOGETHER MARIETTA KEATING MY ANCESTORS CARRIE KEATON ISOM KEETON MY GREAT GRANDMOTHER A ROYAL QUEEN CARRIE KEETON CONCIEVED MY NONA WITH WILLIAM MASON ITALIAN MASONARY BEING A WRITING TAKES PATIENCE YOU HAVE TO HAVE SIUTER NYMES TO PREVENT FATAL STALKERS FROM EXTORTING YOUR WORK I LOVE WRITING TRIBUTES TO MY ANCESTORS ALL APART OF MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY I APPLAUD ANTHONY PUZO MARIO PUZO MARIO CLERI IT'S HOW HE CREATED THE LAST DON
GOD BLESS ALL WRITERS
PRIVACY IS SO CRUCIAL IT IS TRULY
A BLESSING TO SHARE MY GIFT OF WRITING
WITH THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD
GOD BLESS AMERICA
Sprinkled over time of passing he finds legacy’s fathomless treasures
Finally he comes across a few pages of his father’s diary from the War
Loss fear survival battles a bullet here and there and grinding demise
Longing for home land and loved ones scripted in Russia’s wide open planes
Glory Defeat Unspeakable Blood Who is to Judge
If One has not walked in those military boots
And yet this is history a personal narrative a segment of the son’s truth
Hard to forgive but not to forget in the quest for understanding and light
He has not fled himself from chains of tanks crushing not only miserable frost
But comrades in arms receiving recompense for invasion and perpetration
There were concentration camps in his way what Did
He do what Did he know and how and or what Did he fight
A belt buckle survived and the offspring wore it at Dad’s last journey
Had always believed it was the Army’s with Swastika and inscribed
With ‘Blood and Honour’ as a pledge to insanity and conquest’s decree
Tight around waist and courage for a cause thankfully fallen between cause
Research has found a new meaning and the prong for the
Strap had been the emblem of Hitler Youth’s torched madness
Why did his father hold that memory so dear was it pride recall un-reformed
Delusion and what other remembrance has beentaken to an uncomfortable grave
07th June 2018
I can face a bear and not back down, I can face that bear without fear.
I can fight a shark in water against my nature and I will fight that shark till the death..
I can fight in war not afraid, I can walk through fire be burned and still go, a flood, an earthquake,
tornado, hurricane, any natural disasters horrors, none which fill me with worry nor fear.. I can face a killer, a monster of men, a devil, a demon or anything in between and not break.
I can be stabbed, burned alive, drowned, torched, and every horrible thing that can be done
to the flesh and it still wouldn't drain my strength.
I can be called names, bullied, threatened, made fun of, verbally and physically abused,
yet my mind will still be peaceful, sane and sound.
But...but...I cannot face my memories, not a single one. I cannot face my memories, I will
come undone. I cannot face my memories, they alone have the power to destroy.
I cannot face those memories it means hearing my own heart break. I cannot face that type of
heartache.
I cannot face the loss of those I have loved and died, I cannot face the damage I have
done to other lives. I cannot face the truth that I burry deep in lies, deep, deep inside .
I cannot face the pain I have desperately learned to hide.
I can not face time as I know it laughs in my face. I can not face the time lost that can never
be replaced.
People say they admire my strength but they do not know the truth. They see only the superficial
side...the side that's full of the lies, they only want to see, I guess it's easier to except.
But, My Darlings, my dears, if you came near, you will see what time has done to me.
What time has stolen in my youth, just to break me in my old age, as it reminds me that
it's time, in the end that makes us all afraid.
"Burning Bushes Treacherous Cargo"
They say hell
is on fire
but there in
The Lawrence Forest
exist many,
burning bushes
waiting on deliverance
delivering messages,
hidden shadow angels
waiting for their
Bardo exodus
they are
allowed to
come and go
but they are
drawn back
to their torched
habitats
like moths
to flames
their footprints
scorch the missing years
in the desert sand,
the place of the great undoing,
and through that wilderness
broken they glide across
the slippery mossy passages
towards the banks of Styx
waiting at the River’s edge
with tokens for the
Elysium visits
twin flames
lost souls
for once
and all
clearly see
the other
for what
the other is
you will not see
them clearly
unless
the match
is well lit,
they carry
their own light
in the shadows
they shapeshift
a staggered procession
they come and go
exchanging contracts
where sentences
are despatched;
the words
with a life
of their own
are released
like promises
in the flow,
returning in the
wake of the boat
the Ferryman
takes them
journeying
through
strange channels
deep and unclear
towards
the most clear
and shallow
some will say
treacherous -
cargo
transferred
back to below
so above
back to above
so below
burning bushes
treacherous cargo
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
I burnt myself on a funeral pyre so often
only to rise and melt my wings on ascent
Then I tried Odysseus’ underworld instead
but Ariadne’s thread did not glow in the dark
When my Trojan horse stopped at the Styx
the stamp in my passport refused passage
to an inner Self immolated at the stakes
of bewitched destiny spelled in its charcoal
Ashes and heated smoke screens surrendered
At gun point from an armed barrel I revolved
reincarnation showed no mercy nor fortune
Jesus might have died on the cross but mine
was too difficult to bear and Judas kept calling
The wheel of life had no spokes and no centre
the rim lip continued to fail the kind kiss of life
as much as I tried a rectangular peg in a round whole
I could not square the circuit like a circus clown
in frivolous garments shredded to ragged attire
even the Buddha’s loin cloth slipped from my waist
Wasted I counted a trajectory of celestial promise
and came to realized that Phoenix needed a comet
for a torched body and mind have to settle before
they can fly high above and narrate their own story
As wax waned and polish refused to stick on demand
ember of incendiary destruction warranted new flight
once freezing and fighting rested in smouldering flames
23rd March 2021
Satsuma Tumour
Sense of Humour?
That Groomer Rumour
Cometh the Hour
Cometh the TAN!
People Power Glower should Flower
Grassy brassy knolls
But proles at the polls
Sold their Souls
To joust like Faust
Ignore Marcel Proust
Cower before the Ivory Tower
Odd bod elite’s law
Tweets of Sod and God
No Enlightening
Repeats the prism
Or algorithm beats
Every criticism schism
“Ism”..a frightening..lightning rod
Pot..black..kettle knack
Debauched cheats pedal to the metal
Out of whack flak attack
Unsettle our mettle
Plot to settle that score
Scorched and torched serfs
Any petal in fine fettle
& the earth's core