Long Turmoiled Poems
Long Turmoiled Poems. Below are the most popular long Turmoiled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Turmoiled poems by poem length and keyword.
Eclipse begs beasts bays: Chaos and Havoc
as the scheming plots a clock, e'er so close.
Ill sprites hover and bobble ... spasmatic
entities let loose their suffering throes.
Screams and wails are a precursor outbreak
of the cavernous peel that the master--
is nigh--and that the hellish host bewake,
yond slithered pets whip, for the taskmaster.
Becalm, bestilled, beware forevermore,
whilst the knell toils its toll and the uncoiled
hast sprung a boy no more behind the door,
third strike's out a poise shadows earth, turmoiled.
Minute passage as minutes flash a fear,
fourth nil toil nexus whence hell domineer.
“A meager life!”
the world hurls out.
Brooding rage stirs -
grave music in mind:
an orchestra of feelings,
unsatisfied turmoiled thoughts,
perceived by paining wounds -
heartbeat
with frightening velocity.
An enfant terrible -
Alone,
singing to himself
a parable:
paradoxal
to martyred music,
divining
death
while the blithe world laughs
with an uplifted voice.
A broken vessel
trapped in
shuddering darkness
and contrasting quietness
secret stirrings,
saturated senses -
quick ticks the clock…
A twilight lit room:
shining whiteness spreads,
as stars burn bright
and rain sluices down
over sun burnt grass
and folded flowers,
the silver moment
bleached with rain
dies in darkness,
while a woeful crimson
glissades across eyes
acknowledging sorrow:
maybe a disguise
for vengeance.
A voiceless void:
phantoms of thoughts
from which even
shadows flee.
A lovely child -
alone;
smothered,
by bloodshot clouds…
and nerve strained eyes...
The ocean waves
foaming at the mouth, frothing and churning
in turmoiled tempests unyielding
with time marching on, the seconds ebbing in then out;
saltwater sprays
burns the skin chills the body
and the moon pulls and tugs
at the sands on the shore.
The weather changes quickly
summer turns to fall, autumn spinning toward winter
spring nothing but a memory
as the earth revolves around the sun;
there slip the years with its memories,
the age of youth lost to hurried revelations,
too late to go back again, to dream of future yet to be
and the footprints in the sand of you and me.
She walks with dreams, deep passions woo,
Into euphoric ambience of a moonlit night
Carrying sweet secret, so intimate and true,
Sprouting in her womb blossoms of delight.
Though they are together, he feels all alone,
Trapped in turbulence of memories unkind,
Nothing she can say would emotions atone
Grief of matrimony he chose to leave behind.
Agitating unspoken, dissonant pulse of strife
His turmoiled heartbeats now brutally amplify
Frightened by weary past to embrace a new-life
When spiteful bonds of yore earnestly decry.
She tries, yet decides, now is not the time
Waiting till moon and stars are so inclined
To witness with Venus, dear-moment sublime
And unveil the script that destiny designed.
Clenched clandestine vibes utter a soft sigh
As happily her stomach churns butterflies;
And, until next-time, she bids him goodbye,
When they’ll guess the color of baby’s eyes.
Vulnerable she feels now, how will he react:
Will he welcome baby, yet harp in the past?
Will he face with courage or opt to retract?
Convulsed, she shudders~ will this love last?
May 5, 2023
Placed 1st: Pick-A-Title, Vol 36 – Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Outside the city where the pomegranates grow,
Where that ocean that gently sweeps my brow,
Collides with the rurality of the cows giving milk,
In a fusion spring loaded with happiness and silk.
My true love comes to me,
My sweet blossom of agony,
Offering affection and love,
Rendering light from above.
Leaves that brush up against my dark complexion,
Swirl with buzz for life’s energising bright reflection,
So active in their encouragement to ponder anew,
On distances and hesitations that become only a few.
My true love comes to me,
My sweet blossom of agony,
Offering affection and love,
Rendering light from above.
Rows and rows suggest the answer to all frowns,
Is to inquire with nature and ecology’s ready gowns,
Wear them with pride because dignity will at last fall,
When reason and truth wade the dark, turmoiled hall.
My true love comes to me,
My sweet blossom of agony,
Offering affection and love,
Rendering light from above.
I sat at the exit of life,
My ears perceiving diverse trends.
Tis about the misfortune of the fortunate,
And the rebuke of the appraised:
Turmoiled state and heightened corruption;
Na Buhari.
Removal of subsidy sustaining scarcity;
Na Buhari.
Petroleum stretched her wing and soar to
145 naira;
Na Buhari.
Increase in price of goods;
Na Buhari.
Troop of sermonizers stealing away hearts;
Na Buhari.
A Boyfriend smashed the heart of his girl;
Na Buhari.
A mother kept seven meats in the pot but
finds just one:
Na Buhari.
Landlord increases the house rent:
Na Buhari.
Pastor lays curses on Members:
Na Buhari.
Caught in hunger's spell, a man willingly
visited death:
Na Buhari.
Different heads making noise in an hall;
Na Buhari
A man who woke up late for work;
Na Buhari.
A tailor who missed the proposed design;
Na Buhari.
Your Techno WX3 contract virus;
Na Buhari.
Even of what he knows nothing about;
Na Buhari.
Mr?
Ensure you do an affidavit.
Let them keep calling it,
You'll know that's not your name.
Oh Buhari.
18: 01: 20: 04: 55
If there is a god and how is it possible, there is not,
then he would be right here
sitting next to me on this bench.
He would already know and see
the peace and tranquility
lying in the midst of the yard’s activity
as it is set aside from the world around.
These wooden fences
high and stiff
close in this safe escape
from the turmoiled anxiety beyond the gate.
He would rest momentarily
recalling to me the story of the first garden
with all its possibilities,
now lost.
The trees would bow in the wind
sweeping a grand display of thank yous
in gratitude to the wonders
of his magnificent design.
The waters would flow clear and untainted
singing praise to its Creator
who gave life to all around
the birds, the fish, creatures and humankind.
Then, when he was satisfied and refreshed
with the beauty, hope and love that thrives
He’d move on
to other tasks.
I dreamt I saw you
And you talked to me
Even though I was hurt
And my eyes were full of tears in that dream
And I was leaving you because I was not ok
It felt like my turmoiled emotions were lightly caressed and embraced
Waking up I felt strangely satisfied
Something I haven't felt since I lost you
And that's just too many years ago
I knew we had a toxic association
But half of me can't figure out if you were toxic too
Even though I was broken in my little ways too
Making myself prey to those who were preditors
And I can't for the life of me figure out if you were just preying on me
If me and you meant nothing to you
When we meant the world to me
And maybe I know and I am a little too afraid to accept the truth
And maybe I am just totally incapable of accepting it
Because in this lifetime nobody does but you
And I can't be with anyone else
And that's a scary thought
And I want to break from this misery
Because nobody deserves to hurt me like that
And gets to live without losing me
Call me a coward
But even though the story of my life reads like a disjointed paragraph
I believe it was necessary to lose you
The greatest holiday gift I ever received
Goes back so many, many years
Before my life became turmoiled
And before my tears for fears
I was a child like many out there
Torn, strewn and split of kin
Mother and father in differences
Confused at seven, wearing their same skin
For I was one of the lucky ones
To a Highland Estate I would go
It's on the west coast of Scotland
Where my holidays desired me so
Secretly I internally smiled
For a whisper of where I was heading
To live with a movie star hero
No longer my life was in dreading
We were picked up by a man so fine
His manners were an absolute joy
Regimental he was in his approach
To me, just a seven year old boy
We travelled through the village of Plockton
Crystal clear waters edged to it's shore
I knew from this very moment
Being here ebbed previous family sores
On entering his house I was in awe
Movie pictures came to my view
They were images of James Bond
At seven I was totally through
A voice called to me
Hey James! sit down and I'll tell you me
Still in circles in walking awe
This is what he told thee
My name is Patrick Dalzel Job
In the Second World War I served
But this recognition I bestow
Humbles me to it's deserve
This honour that's been given
Was blessed by a colleague in war
What desired Ian Fleming to be so striven
Possibly, what we were fighting for
We served on the same destroyer
Fighting to make the future free
His tribute, in his novels I became
James Bond, it's incredibly me
Not many seven year olds have stayed with James Bond.
This seven year old Scot's boy has, maybe I learnt?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patrick_Dalzel-Job
Daylight breaks as the mind wakes upon first breath
and swallows the punctual death of yesterday spent.
Intent now lies in the present of foreseen fading time,
just a mime a moment forward of the words we utter,
of cluttering acts we will our bodies to wonder through,
blindly we pursue the pleasures of our probing intellect
and inject our pulsing veins with poison’s vigor.
Of past pains kept we gain nothing but a taunt trigger cocked,
shocked at our own suffering unlocking lived lies
we see through slits that were once open eyes of ripe
as if a clay pipe in the petrified hands of others to hold…
cautiously controlled…a mould that meets infraction.
I lay back… smoke the cigar of sensations,
deeply cracked I find the cures I’ve been craving…
a kind of meditation in my own revelations of real
as the mind’s wheel turns my burning brain against shame
I feel…
and the game of blame ingests the same that is me.
Silently we disagree with our own visions and voices
of choices chosen by the ideals of what we’ve been
as though we have gainly grown insane by future’s unknown
we exist as calculating clones drowning in droves,
flashing our fabricated fears in circumstances self born…
torn apart by past pains kept.
We are adept by the tools of fool’s lost flame
as we proclaim in promises that we love the truth,
in ruth reality we want to believe that which we love is true,
a brew of heart’s tricks often mastered by disillusion
a failed fusion of thought’s want and need…
and we bleed…
by past pains kept we are turmoiled in trouble’s clutch
like rotating winds of repetitive failures forlorn..
touch it…break it…
you will see…
it is nothing but self born.