Long Tragedy Poems
Long Tragedy Poems. Below are the most popular long Tragedy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tragedy poems by poem length and keyword.
From the catastrophic calamity they could not hide
Frantically facing the fear of a fiery death,
they cling together until their final breath.
Arm in arm; heart against heart...
despite the impending tragedy,
determined never to be torn apart.
Love kept them side by side
Bodies stripped of flesh and still they clung
in passion bound, to flames they had succumbed
Emotions run deep as I feel their suffering
and agonizing pain that accompanied the couple
who could not refrain from devotion, even near death
embracing each other in their last moment together
while being robbed of one more breath.
As smoke darked the sanguine sky,
it was inevitable they were about to die
I imagined hearing her whisper...
"Hold me in your arms so I cannot see
death in the darkness as it approaches us
as if it were night instead of day.
Kiss me when the sun sleeps."
Helpless to end her weeping,
he swept her into his arms as hot embers
rained down upon their bodies.
He held her tighter to his chest and cried,
"Keep your fingers around my soul
and know that our love will never grow old."
Painted as if lost in a nightmarish horror,
they remained until the end of their existence
insistent on holding each other tight
but helpless to offer resistance...
until death claimed them for its own
There was no pyramid to be found
where they'd be safe from the profound hell
that rained down around them.
Their only peace was that in each other's arms
they would meet death together... entwined
Centuries later, they would be found,
limbs wound together in a profound way.
Like the ancient Pompeiian volcanic disaster
where once lived a civilization of glory,
that perished to death amid smoldering lava,
bodies burned and buried in windswept ashes...
Escape was also impossible in that calamitous story.
The war is nothing but a metasexual celebration among homosapiens,
A grotesque dance of destruction, where bodies confront each other in an orgy of violence.
Soldiers become avatars of the primordial desire for control and domination,
A masquerade of power, where blood is the elixir of ecstasy and self-loss.
In the arena, hearts beat to a primitive rhythm, sprinkled with sighs and howls,
Shadows of an ancestral game, where victory is ephemeral, and glory a fleeting specter.
Weapons become extensions of bodies, while souls get lost in the battle for supremacy,
Each battle a journey into the dark abyss of instincts, with no way back.
Behind the masks of iron and gray uniforms, forgotten vulnerabilities hide,
Ordinary people transform into puppets of collective madness,
And on the battlefields, flowers are replaced by the bright red of blood,
In a grotesque bouquet, a symbol of a morbid celebration, without honor and shame.
The thunderous sounds of bullets become the soundtrack of this sinister celebration,
The entire scene is a frightening illusion, a manifestation of the darkness in our hearts.
And in each wound, in every lost gaze, lies the story of a human tragedy,
A tale written in blood ink, an elegy of souls crushed under the boot of war.
In the backstage of this metasexual celebration, the shadows of endless regret hide,
Humanity dances in a whirlwind of destruction, a prisoner of its own illusions.
Each battle becomes an episode in a tragic series, unfolding on the map of pain,
And with each sunrise, imprints of suffering and regrets remain in our world.
So, in the midst of this metasexual celebration, where war becomes a ritual,
A melancholic cry rises from the wounded souls of the earth,
Calling for an end to this macabre dance and the discovery of a deeper harmony,
Where souls can break free from the chains of war and dance in the light of true peace.
IV
Once more I have been given cause to dwell
On that ill-fated romance;
I saw you again yesterday, years hence...was
It just another casual dalliance?
The affected tilt of your cruel and
Arrogant chin, the high piling of a mass of
Staggering auburn hair;
And often I have wondered, just how did it
Come about that former calamitous affair?
Spontaneous they say? Personally I suspect
It was all rather contrived.
At that moment when I looked into those
Unaging, dispassionate eyes,
Still so very black, still so very heroically
Beautiful,
Although saddened with all the sorrows
Of a tragedy that only he and you full knew,
I found what had always been there and was
Most evident...
I needs not guess at your deeper discontent:-
A blind man's tale of lust and infidelity;
Your abhorrence of those sworn oaths that set
Sharpened keels upon white breakers of a
Sapphire sea.
I watched as you raised a hot cappuccino
To those perfect lips.
But what cared he for war and death? He took
His chance, plunged his mouth - and kissed!
Morning blaze like bullets through the streets and the temperature kept moving beneath my feet, I could hear the horses galloping on the track and the ferocious wind blowing through the street with love and mercy strapped to its heels. He didn’t know where to go for his contract had end and everyone had to move out of the lion den, but he had a mission to fulfill before he departs with love and humility in his heart.
Take me to the street where we first meet and tell me what you see. Look at the trees that hang over the road and examine how deep they run into the ground; count the number of old men and youth you see roaming around. Observe the people that walk on the street and listen attentively to their heartbeat. Examine the avenue that runs into the town and the street that branches off into the ground. You must know the difference between street and lane, and your life will never be the same.
He embarked on a journey to see his friend, but he was led to a different place instead, they took him on a winding path up a dirt road where ass and mule scamper about in the dark and children running about in the street with no shoes on their feet.
He was convinced that he had lost his way, but he kept driving until he saw a cross sitting on top of a mound and they told him that was the last place his friend was seen, before he left the scene. He could not say a word for the road had ended and there was nowhere else to go, so they turned around and went back to the town.
He could not laugh or cry for the shock was so great that, the only thing that he could do was to get on the plane and leave that place as tragedy bounce quietly all over the place.
Take me to the street where we first meet and take me to the exact spot where we tie the knot and repeat the exact words that you say when you make the decision to go away. The cross on the mound is the only evidence that is on the ground that will explain what is happening in the town.
Divine Intervention
Don’t be upset, don’t grow weary,
When plans collapse, when doors close suddenly.
A man’s heart deviseth his way:
But the LORD directeth his steps. (Proverbs 16:9)
You begged to get on that flight,
To your long-awaited destination.
But the gate was shut,
And your heart sank in frustration.
You wept, you shouted, disheartened by delay—
Until news came of disaster,
And your soul whispered, thank You, Lord,
For this was divine intervention.
You missed the train, because the tailor was late with your new clothes.
What felt like anger and wasted time,
Became your rescue—
The train met tragedy, and you realised it was not the tailor’s tardiness but divine intervention.
Esther was crowned, Joseph was sold,
Stories of sorrow in Scripture are told.
Yet God was working through every pain,
To bring His people life again.
What seemed like loss was God’s design,
Yes, this too was a case of divine intervention.
And think of us all—
When sin entered the world,
Darkness sought to consume us whole.
But Christ stepped down from heaven’s throne,
Took on flesh, bore the cross,
Rose victorious.
The greatest act of mercy was God's divine plan to save man
The greatest Divine Intervention.
So, child of God,
When plans are broken,
When roads are blocked,
Don’t lose heart.
Lift your eyes and trust His hand—
For every delay,
Every detour,
Every disruption—
May be His protection,
Maybe His love,
Surely it will be His divine intervention.
Praise Him!
Praise Him still—
For His mercies never fail.
Praise Him!
Praise Him always—
For His Divine Interventions.
Mausoleum and graves extremely old
They have not withstood test of endless time
Human love and tragedy long grown cold
Lay under protection of pure divine.
Weathered decades obliterated names
So many graves in decrepitude lay
Impetuous nature has claimed domain
Humanities spirit ever holds sway.
Listen carefully restless spirits sigh
Mournful whispers in ancient cedar tree
Seems they are reluctant to say goodbye
Bright future awaits they cannot foresee.
Spirits one day will arise and move on
Gentle Shephard takes charge his flock has gone.
Pixabay image by: MrsBrown
Something about the written word
It stirs me up inside
The ignition to flame my imagination
An alternative to an easy ride
My love of language is fiercely intense
Words, my cup of tea
It can mean whatever it makes me feel
Perception is up to me
No stipulations to what I read or write
No one can pocket what I receive
There is no giant leaning over my shoulder
Telling me what to believe
What else can create beauty out of tragedy
While mending a cracked soul
It's affirmation that we are not strange or alone
Yet equally unique and whole
It may be an adventure that would never come to life
Leaving you with a dream
Perhaps it's one's pain described on paper
Your own tears creating a stream
What is more powerful than an inspirational quote
You read as you begin your day
Often times it's your very own story. Fits like a glove
How you felt, but couldn't say
It could be a limerick that causes a chuckle
When the world can't catch a smile
Maybe it's words derived from your own tongue
Therapeutic to remember once in a while
Whether you hold the pen or retrieve the written words
It belongs to only you
Whatever you receive or bring to the table
It's honest, real and true
I was lying there pool of ashes, amidst ruins a faded glory
In the dark, outside the hustle and bustle , in seclusion
many many years.
Many storms did pass through testing me in the elapsing summer time
The wind chill , shivering cold a strong grip, haunted me days and nights
Yet again, a deadly lonesome , alone with the mundane, alone with gone days
An ashes of burned violin , left alone into an utter silence
I was undone, untreated, left alone with the progressing day
amidst an outcry, yet an indifference lingered on.
In the audacity of the unruly, no one was a reverie
out from nowhere, the awakened eve arose a croon
a weaving mesh of the cosmic creation. Even though I had the shade of the lamenting
A farewell with the tragedy of the departing of nothingness, no one.
Miles to go for a voyage, the trumpet enclosing toward an end
A sunrise, why the embellishing epiphany whence promising for the darkest night?
“Let this chicken remind you: linger too long in August heat, and you’ll end up feather-frazzled and fried in spirit.”
This chicken looks as though the sun itself
has grabbed it by the feathers and declared,
“You shall be my cautionary tale.”
Its crest shoots skyward—an exclamation mark
of poultry panic—while its eyes, wide as
two over-boiled eggs, broadcast pure despair.
August has wrung it out like a damp rag
forgotten on a porch rail. Every plume
is standing in protest, muttering,
“I did not sign up for this climate.”
It is the portrait of a creature fried
not by oil, nor skillet, nor recipe~
but by the merciless heat that turns
even the proudest barnyard citizen
into a frazzled, feathered tragedy.
Call it fried chicken if you must,
but note the truth behind the joke:
this one’s been sautéed by the sun itself,
and it is absolutely done.
When you look around at life and see tragedy and despair
and no matter how you try…you cannot make things fair
Sometimes the best that you can hope for when the day is done
is to balance all the sorrow with a little laughter…a little fun.
So to escape the sadness that surrounds us…at least for a little while
we paddled our kayaks to an island to find some things to make us smile.
For when we’re feeling sorrow and frustration with the ball in mankind’s court
we find it helps to to get away…and turn to nature for support.
So let me offer up some balance…at least for a little while
By sharing some of what we saw…some of the things that made us smile.
We got to the water early as the sun was about to rise…
and once we started paddling we couldn’t believe our eyes.
For not only was she announcing the beginning of a brand new day
but her light across the water helped to guide us on our way.
The water was calm and salty…the panorama wide…
our kayaks on the undulating waves seemed like a magic carpet ride.
When we reached the island we dispensed with the water shoes we wore
so we could feel the sand between our toes as we walked along the shore.
We shared our walk with sandpipers, and herons and seagulls in the sky
and as we searched the shore for shells…a stingray who swam by.
The sun was warm, the breeze was cool…the water…refreshingly mild
and once when I looked back though I can’t be sure… think our shadows smiled.
For a little while we only thought of the ocean, the animals and the land
For a little while it was enough…to make footprints in the sand…
As we returned to shore we thanked nature for presenting things to make us smile…
and for providing us a place to get away…
at least for a little while.