Long Unburnt Poems
Long Unburnt Poems. Below are the most popular long Unburnt by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unburnt poems by poem length and keyword.
ODE TO A NEVER RECEDING ECHO
For Onyebuchi
Day and night in an eternal combat.
A truce : the eternal cycle of night and light
Lost in the ruse of an eclipse.
Where is the truce in the ruse of going and coming?
You found yours swinging on that threshold,
Where udara tree dances to the choirs of the wind.
Then you bend to itch the scratch.
The debt of birth repaid too soon.
Where lion wimp and head dancer limp!
Crippled Aligo!!!
Have you journeyed through the chart on your palm ?
After a drunken sip of prerian spring.
Soured tryst with Sophia.
Cherubim through the umbilical returns
To the progenitor?not conceived! Unborn!!
Halo on rusty hair sits.
Or was it your iyiuwa. Unburnt
Pleat, unpleat then pleat…
Under the star-apple tree,
Where all roads meet
Do not live on the threshold
Stay with me, ignore the whispers of these shadows
Itching your feathered cap.
You have sucked through this nipple time dry
Leave her, now flaccid, bosom. see she shrieks.
Head of the Baptist shrieks
Superfluous gift for many half Christs,
Too proud for Baptism.
I wonder why?
A pine piercing the sun
Withers at the descent of a dozen, score moon.
Eleodimmuo it is you I am calling.
You, eternity lost in time.
A dance to a never receding echo
If now is dusk, I hope the echo stays
At least,for me, a pedagogic star.
While the magi?me, beside the manger wait
For the birth of light.
While owl hoots dove’s lullaby;
Vulture hatching in eagle’s nest.
You are my Ogbanje, my forerunner
Even if the lips of days hums dirge as they pass
Now, Soldier ant from the udara returns. again.
Matching, invading my tryst, feasting on a depleted layer.
Futile to chase; deliberate in pace
Need I learn this tune?if it never rest?
Fallowed stream bites as dreams cradle me.
The black thing chants Ogbanje, Ogbanje and I sign
At this never receding echo.
In memory of Onyebuchi
If you in dancing to, faults, my beat. see a fore admission of a mortal's fallibility
Uraoma Nwannem
© Chikwado Nwattah . 2014
In a shroud of darkness
Her stallion neighs , leading death to
where death preys.
As black as the night as cruel as the day
Her aura speaking , in different shades of
grey
Steadying her steed ,the stench of fear
she inhales,
A smile so malicious , in comparison even
Hades would pale.
In blood soaked linen she prowls the
streets
Watching and yearning for hatred to
spill free
For blood to seek blood for vengeance to
covet thee
In the darkness of the shadows she
patiently waits
For when death calls, even fate makes
haste.
In the valley of death,
A golden gate is all that stands in the way
Of greedy wicked souls and judgement
day
Peter's gates seal shut And death stakes
it's claim
With a reign so great even the Roman
empire of olde, would in fear,disappate.
It sends forth its flails
A sentence to forever serve,
For when a black soul is captured
Only it's charred flesh remains unburnt.
Into the flesh of the damned it sinks it's
ravenous teeth
Untill their black hearts
have no blood to bleed
Christened with the power of Hell's
unrelenting Prince
To the depths of the underworld each
soul is dragged through hell 's fire,
forever to stay
Alas! Not even the most powerful can
conquer death
Their wretched lives full of fear and hate
Can never compare to their gruesome
fate
They scream in agony, fuelling hell's
vengeful fire with their pain
Their burning bodies for all eternity , in
hell 's fire will remain.
No bad deed, remains hidden,
no soul left unturned.
For when death stakes it's claim
Time shudders and in the name of destiny
you will disappear.
Once death's icy grips stain your foul soul
You will learn that even an infant ,
suckling on it's mother's breast, is not a
pure soul.
Form:
Milk bottles we would rinse out and return.
Pop bottles take back to claim the tuppence.
Kellogg’s cartons collected for the kids
To cut and paste and learn creative art.
Unburnt cinders reclaim from last night’s fire
And add to burn again with today’s coals.
Rinsed food cans collected by rag-bone man.
Blue sugar-bag take back to the Coop
To be filled once more with weighed out sugar.
Cut up old clothes to use as cleaning rags.
Collect carthorse droppings for garden plants.
Newspapers take to chippy for free chips
Or use to roll and twist as fire-lighters.
Naught went to waste in those austere times.
Half a heart
If I am at work
or at leisure
with half a heart,
No echoes, no thrill ...
Like an unsung song
broken strings of piano,
Waiting no mend
dying slowly, forgotten.
Like endless nights
staying dark and cold,
Some unburnt coal
with embers, frozen.
Like flute immersed in water
as no air enters or leaves,
Descend deeper, unblown,
unkissed, drowning.
Like a stone at the shore
I wait for a new sun
A wave, give me shake,
to make afloat, alive.
Else let tsunami engulf
or repatriate my bubbly half.
Written Jan 7th, 2016
For contest "Free verse extravaganza"
Sponsor- Catie Lindsay
Some of the benefits of life
are to be able to use what we have learnt
stuffed full of knowledge so rife
some of which when we find usage get us burnt
Although most of us will encounter some strife
a few lucky ones choose wisely remaining unburnt
treasuring the wildlife while avoiding the lowlife
once a wife is chosen things have to be relearnt
One night to be awoken to cries of go get the midwife
eight miles I ran as it was dark I did not get sunburnt
I fetched the midwife who bent my ear with her strife
said by now I should be wise and why had I not learnt
Safely home the wails grew in pitch and were so rife
I was living in fear that things that should be weren't
and deadly aware of what could go wrong ushering in afterlife
so now my life I have revalued learning all that needs to be relearnt
once again spelling are British English which often differ from American English
The Vessel pt. 2 - Leviæthan
I
'neath the grim pallor of a Plutonian moon,
Sheltered in the cloak of Phantom's embrace,
A tempest rages within flesh,—entombed
Ash and soot caress expressionless face
II
Deep into that fire peering,
Long she stood there pondering, hearing
Voices, distant,—haunting, searing
'round a pyre—
Shackled bodies, writhe and hiss
Blackened pillars,—listing, burning,
Seize the souls upon them spurning
Faces, obscene,—enticing, stirring,
A sweet longing like unrequited kiss
O' What vile savagery!—provoking,
Her weary flesh into approaching
Weary flesh,—engaged, encroaching
Shorn of tattered garb and ragged stitch
—
Light and shadow, rhythmic’lly dancing,
Upon the flesh— lures her eyes adrift
Wolves hone in,—circling, incanting
Pounce upon prey and bind it swift
III
Lo!
The horror within her mind unfolding,
Lashed to the pyre—
To this pageantry, beholden
Her wail a dirge,—reshaping, remolding,
Their chant with a hex through fervent lips
A darkest machination set in motion,
Soon...
"Soon, I shall be," softly spoken
A hushed mantra into crescendo growing
The throng, strident!—quake like shaking fists
The earth shudders! Parts beneath their feet,
A chasmic yawn of indeterminate deep
Vengeance interred, on the precipice of sleep—
Awakens!
Through arms outstretched, a wind howls and whips
"So, I Shall Be! Reborn! Unbroken!
Take This Flesh And Bone —As A Token!
Payment! An Oath With These Words Spoken!"
Echoing through the endless Abyss
Shadow and flame,—coiling, rising,
Kisses flesh,—unburnt, undying,
Her voice, shrill!—harrowing, climbing,
Shatters the firmament with perfect pitch
Down!—
Down rain the heavens upon the wicked—squealing,
Whose sloughing facades,—smoking, peeling,
Reveal faces, familiar,—cruel, deceiving
Raze and ruin by one decried, "Witch!"
—
Within the veiled darkness sempiternal,
Souls, like dying stars, ignite The Black
Falling embers till bloom inferno,
Long she gazed into the Abyss
—And it smiled back
IV
Through a mirror darkly, her mind unbroken—
Phantom bestows a Faustian gift
Laid to rest—
No epitaph, no words spoken
Upon her brow, placed a gentle kiss
A cocooned cacophony of crickets serenades overgrown fields,
drowning out the creaking of rusted cars long since abandoned.
Maroon and sable tents blot the dilapidated ground—
bloated and weathered,
strips of fabric flapping in the harsh elements.
Legends of wraiths wander,
replicating whispers of infected insanity.
Laughter lingers in suspect echoes,
Rippling from pasts reborn in presents: futures to be later replaced by the past.
The smell of burnt sugar crackles with the purr of buttered kerneled corn: invading the nostrils with senses whose stimuli feign belief.
A faint humming of Entry of the Gladiators creeps in loudening crescendos, adding to the cacophony deigning dormancy in the field
Fragmented timelines intersecting by the call of the Barker
Stained cotton candy melts, reconstitutes, melts once more
Saturating replicating stands with insidiously sticky omens
Ghastly sickeningly sweet mori mementos
Resurrecting the dead from preternatural slumber.
Within fractured milliseconds, the cycle of the tormented deceased rise
From the ashes of unburnt airwaves,
Rippling through screaming minutes yet frozen in the midst.
A varicosed bearded woman floats aloft grassy overgrowth
Reanimated tigers lurk and phantasmal elephants howl,
Rings round the air in gaseous hush, like cigars puffed by moustachioed men of game,
Insufflating smoke with striped suits in candied reds and white.
The air rises to the resurrected show,
Cries confused for laughter tickle cochlea of the living.