Long Torn Poems
Long Torn Poems. Below are the most popular long Torn by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Torn poems by poem length and keyword.
“Clocks”
Seconds bleed
your stories for a child
played for numbers
by an imbecile
with dedication
to ripping hearts to shreds
to replace their vacant
hours alone in bed
your life
sold for time
numbers
on a
treadmill
trolls begin
addicted to their
asinine mission
lacking gifts
and lacking vision
this is how they
spend
their time
counting numbers
counting lines
"Good morning
did you sleep well?"
They don't know you,
but they're counting
numbers
stealing your precious time
Paper thin
you’re torn
Cancer blooms
like mould it forms
Poetry in lines
inhaled, injected
and sworn
The hospital linoleum
Nurses shoes
make no noise
your life
sold for time
safe
politics
fey smile sublime
clocks
swinging doors
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
“If”/Killing Eve
https://youtu.be/2R4JP5bR734
They sea me without.
I carry a raven upon my shoulder,
A sundial on my back.
The hat I wear is made of ash;
Sunlight is what I lack.
I drag my feet behind me on sandy beaches.
The ball and chain my ankle bracelet bling.
‘If only…’ is a wish, a fantasy; it’s incomplete.
I never made it big.
There is a line of memories behind me in the sand;
It shows the places I have seen.
It is my reason;
The reason I understand;
The reason I understand why you do not understand me.
It curves around, beyond the boulders
And on through rows of palm trees.
This dream I have, I have always carried;
It has always been with me.
I leave my burdens at the door,
But desire is a flame that still burns eternal.
It lights up my face, when I see her face,
But inside I remain forever nocturnal.
I walk in foreign footsteps,
No guide or friend in tow.
I cross the sea of peace, love and empathy forever,
Alone in my sinking boat.
I carry only what I need to make it to the end of the sea.
The cannon ball attached to my feet,
Is expanding more than I would like it to be.
It grows with each passing full moon,
The only time I can be seen.
I hide behind a smile sometimes,
Before it rows away from me.
I have a conversation, with a man who sells only ale;
His face is full of redness and joy!
My face is always pale.
I take a sip of this rotgut and begin to waste away from the inside.
I sometimes hear a hearty tune and sing!
While all the time,
Inside, I die…
The noise is intoxicating;
The words they speak are so enchanting.
Sooner or later it becomes closing time
And I am left walking away from the dancing.
The maiden’s flutter their eyes,
I haven’t shaved in several weeks.
My life is worn away by the sun, my clothes torn asunder.
They flirt and kiss me on the cheek
But there is no more thunder.
They ask if I would like to join them,
On their midnight adventure.
I have no words, I promise to return,
But they never get a real answer.
They cannot readily see the hole in my soul;
Oh what a charmed life I live.
I try to laugh, so tip my hat…
…a pirate’s life for me.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Two hearts once beat as one in time..
Their voices sang a perfect rhyme.
Each thought, each breath, a mirrored tune..
They danced beneath the silver moon.
But she, in love’s unsteady hand..
Had strayed and broken what was planned.
A choice she made, a wound so deep..
That left him standing, torn and steeped.
He couldn’t see the shattered light..
Though she had begged and cried all night.
For every wrong he'd ever done..
She forgave him.. he, though, was none.
Her tears fell soft, a desperate plea..
"I’ve failed, but still, I beg you see..
I’ve wronged you, yes, but love still stays..
Forgive me, please, through darker days."
But he, with heart in shards and stone..
Could not forgive what she had known.
A rift grew wide, too sharp to mend..
A bitter grief he couldn't end.
So, they parted.. silent, broken..
Two souls, once bound, now words unspoken.
Her heart, though torn, still loved him true..
But in his eyes, that love withdrew.
Through years that passed, her soul would ache..
A heavy weight, a lasting break.
For all the pain she'd caused in haste..
And yet, in silence, love she'd chased.
But fate, with mercy, takes its toll..
And promises restore the soul.
In future lives, their hearts will mend..
And he will find it in the end.
For love like theirs, though torn apart..
Is woven deep within the heart.
In silent years, through lives they’ll roam..
Two souls will find their way back home.
twixt and tween two torn out tongues in twos,
shrooms shouted out where snakes often snooze.
warlock wishes witching hour was over today
but we are sitting in Salem, so hey, hey, hey
Where witches stir, and mock and feast.
There are werewolves and wizards, west and east.
Spritely spellbooks are spouting spells to do.
The witching hour overtakes me and you.
We hide in the corner, hoping to not be found.
The only two humans in this insane house underground.
Witch comes in and says “I smell” children and we freeze.
It seems easier in books. Now I am nowhere in ease.
I shush you, Sister, please do not give away our spot.
The witch begins chanting as she fills in a pot.
Her evil laugh almost stops my breathing and my heart.
I will finish this tomorrow. Remind me where to start.
There stood a tree
Bare and alone
Many storms had left it torn.
The branches wept
The leaves were gone
No more birds sang their song.
But far above
Their hung a fruit
Passion drenched through the roots
It hung forlorn, barely connected
Many passersby’s assumed it was defected.
But then one day
A man walked by
Fascinated, he let out a sigh
Where did it come from?
Surely it did not fit in here
How was it being nourished in all this gloomy fear?
He held it in the palm of his hand
And smelled it’s ripeness, longing for it to land
But as he pushed it to his lips
It began to drip, drip, and drip
The essence of its juice made his hands begin to bleed
For it was a forbidden fruit he had to leave
Baffled by his reaction
To this ravishing satisfaction
Startled by this moment of unusual pleasure
He knew in his heart he had to leave it forever.
He wiped his hands on that verboten tree
And mournfully knew he had to let that fruit be.
By Sabina Nicole
My heart has been torn..My mind assulted; Yet the dust it
Is settling, red dirt; black earth; almost grey bulldust.' I am
In my dreaming.' Deep yet alert.' I'm singing in tune, to the
Creak of existence's ancient harmony; Kukaburra calls out
The Goanna slithers, and I hear and see.' I see 1914 1918
The ANZACS pushed back, no more retreats;
Villers Bretonnaux.! I hear old
Morehead at Tobruck.))) No retreat he stressed though we
Die where we stand! This, the former headteacher Would teach rommel.! About defeat, and 'claus schwab?'
And old gorged psoriasis.' They remember.. Well they knew !
Axis powers defeated, by a strong
Army full of ingenuity ' i see migrant boat waves, coming in
Yet they got stopped.! The W E F did not like that one bit.'
A country that saw to its own best interests first.? And
Africa oxymoronically.) is next on the list.' This to them
Was insufferable.! Fast forward to the planned-demic
2019 covid 19.? W H O.' got real sick in 2019..? The door was
Going to open on egregious; sadistic; house arrest; they
Wanted to make an example, to humanity.' Here are the
Famous independant Aussies.' Melbourne forced into a
Stagnational state.' This is what happened to you Australia.'
You were to be broken.' Because of your independant spirit
And the distance that supported you.' a special effort was made'
For you might become contagious? and inspiring; to the whole
World.' WAKE UP AUSTRALIA..' Stand and defend.!
At the end of a very long day,
I settled into my comfy chair.
The soothing patter on the tin roof
and the old gum tree outside
surrounded me in a soft embrace.
I opened my book—
The Time of the Dragon Lady.
The first pages breathed open—
mist lifting from the Vale of Time.
Below its black hills, a village waited:
chimneys cold, bowls scraped clean,
children listening for wings
beyond the evening bells.
I followed the path between the lines
until the room fell away.
Then, over the black hills,
a dragon laboured through the dark,
wings frayed by weather,
the last of his fire
a thread of smoke along his tongue.
He had hunted beyond the frostline
for the hungry ones waiting below.
I read more slowly then—
knowing the long flight
that empties its bearer
before the door is reached.
When he came home,
no one asked for one more flame.
They brought berry-wine,
hot bread wrapped in linen,
armfuls of dry wood
for a fire he did not have to make.
In the warm hall,
firelight found the torn edges
of his wings.
Behind my ribs,
something gave way.
I did not turn the page.
I held the open book
against my chest
and wept for the dragon—
and for the part of me
that had forgotten
how it felt
to be welcomed home
before being asked
to give again.
My dream is taking me back- back to my old home,
the room that was mine is now faded in time;
torn curtains are blowing in the wind while I roam.
In the open window- I hesitate then climb,
I stand silent in the stillness with reflection;
the room that was mine is now faded in time.
Such sweet memories I hold to my heart with affection,
I can hear the laughter of grandma and mother;
I stand silent in the stillness with reflection.
Once that floor was shiny where I played with brother,
all my dollies used to wait on my bed for me;
I can hear the laughter of grandma and mother.
Beyond those tattered curtains flowers I would see,
I think those days in this home were my very best;
all my dollies used to wait on my bed for me.
I feel sleepy- so lay down in my old nest,
my dream is taking me back- back to my old home;
I think my days in this home were my very best,
torn curtains are blowing in the wind while I roam.
___________________________
August 25, 2017 (Edit 09/26/18)
Poetry/Terzanelle/Torn Curtains
Copyright Protected, ID 17-1065-001-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
In the landscape of entangled existence,
we traversed life on the path of no essence.
Ego chasing the mirage of endless desire,
wandering cynical in wasteland made us tire.
Vanity and craving innately compulsive,
distorted the ethos of obdurate ego obsessive,
conditioning the myopic vision to look at others,
self-awareness turning opaque wouldn’t bother.
The wheel of time churned up disorder dust,
in the chaotic cloud the disarrayed life would adjust.
In maimed moments of dispersed perturbation
truth oscillated on the ripples of confusion.
In the ordained flux of frenzied mental unrest,
things disheveled to change were put to test.
The alchemy of metamorphic divine intervention
unveiled the real façade of basic transformation.
Transmuted self-image escaped egocentricity,
got transfixed within the frame of empathy.
Heavenly intercession in the life reborn,
the strata of dense self-worth got torn.
In the halcyon horizon of the life new
the nascent sun of adoration arose with hue,
painted passionately the pining hearts
with color of love designing perceptive art.
“we woke up early one morn, ego shorn
it felt as though we were in form reborn
nodes within stirred, boundaries blurred
our head and heart, with love concurred”
(Quote by the sponsor)
Just recently my father told me it's time
Hey Son, amend such destruction abound
Surface fuelled antenna your mind will become
Out of the black into the blue will be you
Please admire the surrounds your now in
Beggaring belief that it was their sanctuary be
Chances, they've had chances, look now
Is this what's left, please tell thee!
Indeed father, all I'm seeing is destructive spread
Selected twisted torn amidst lifeless strewn
No care for around or even family born
Iconic, their iconic having lost their groomed
Tell me, what shall I do for it's always your blamed
Firing salvo's South and yet your cast aside
It matters no more Son, for I'll ever be shamed
I'm just a fallen Angel, of which they can't abide