Long Vacuum Poems
Long Vacuum Poems. Below are the most popular long Vacuum by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vacuum poems by poem length and keyword.
Are you seated there
No, I am standing in a space
Layers of avid air
keen to occupy horses
for a race
Where else is space
Well it is in the milky way too
Joining you and me
with an invisible string
crimson and blue
Can you show me
Well, I can, but five thousand
years you have to be
in wait to see
almost an eternity
Why so do you know
Yes a little I do
But first can you please
have the glow
of your face
occupying a pretty space
I mean the face for the bees
Can you have it
floating on a cup of coffee
or Darjeeling tea
It's so cold this evening
Oh yes, with it here you are
How much sugar
Just what the space of a teaspoon
can cocoon
This too a space?
of the ilk of the vastness
of sun and moon ?
Yes dear there is nothing empty
But there is plenty
of warmth from your fingers
lingering in the space between
the brown surface and the rim
pretty and slim
just look it gleams too
To return to
where we got glued
It would take that huge time
for the light from us
may be many more plus
to reach the silver sky
to make us visible there
and without light, you know
no sighting is possible
not even a particle
Saying this he
in a coffee-heat spree
switched off the room light
blossoming quite a few tulips
warm and tight
Is the space a vacuum
Well both yes and no
But in the long run no
Like between us it's space
But not airless
Up to a certain point
in the sky so amazing
it's a blue space
courtesy dust particles
in oxygen
And then, her eyes now bigger,
it's dark and dark and dark again
until when
there is another planet like ours
along with a luminous star
How vast is the space then
Hard to define
Almost endless vacuum
dust gas and other bits of matter
floating around
Not sure
if there are
universes further
like ours
in the space
Then there are
the black holes
Souls you may say
of gigantic stars
that had collapsed
Why, is it a hole
Not exactly, dear
Nothing can escape its pull
not even light
so dense and tight
In the huge emptiness
is traveling
the radiation
emanating through
the Cosmos
But no more
The scent of the flowers
in your braids
stirring my nostrils
Need a barricade
Musings on space Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
January 15, 2021
A hiding place, a warm and darkened room,
A lit doorway, bright against the dark,
Cold against the warmth, a frame for odd
Assorted stranger-forms whose faces loom
As quarrels over (what?) convulse and rend them,
Leering laughter giving in to vicious
Sneers, bared fangs, silent snarls
Of wretched, clutching, atavistic mayhem,
A terror once removed. Inside that hole
Distant from the proximal horrid window
Where twisted evil shadow-puppets fight
Peculiar faint amusement seems to roll
Like waves around the cave, detached and born
Of safety via distance, of certainty
That out would never be in, that warmth was safe,
That war above, so far away, forlorn,
Could be watched as from a languid seat
Far recessed in a darkened empty theater,
Nestled snugly, listening to the voice
Which comments on the raging battle heat.
From somewhere up, behind, not left nor right,
But from the center, voice and fight both
Directly sensed, as if they each occurred
In a vacuum, touch and smell, sound and sight
Being interchangeable and void.
The fighters jab and poke, madly gouge,
And neither gains advantage, being justly
Matched, as both are faceless, the man
At left pitted fair against the shrewish
Plot of his opponent, evil woman.
Both in turn appeal for judgment, turning
Away from fighting to glare and wave and hiss
Silently for a verdict on the ghastly driven
Feud which now has stopped, as it began,
Abruptly, and receiving none, for in
The silence no answer can be given
(Besides which, being taken by surprise
And overcome by sudden fear, aware
Of change in circumstance) the watcher is mute,
The murderous woman lunges at his very eyes
In deadly assault, bent on maiming, killing,
Groping fiercely at his open throat
For no apparent reason; and the comfort
Of the soothing voice utterly halts.
Words without sound fly like spears between them
Accusatory fingers gesture madly
And spittle from their half-crazed livid mouths
Wings through air in visual acid anthem
To this grisly deadly tandem fight
That seems the worse being set in relief
By the rectangular hole that serves as both
Window and door, divider of dark and light,
No protection, as threshold battle threatens
Him within, as blind hatred rages
In deft slashes of lengthy fingernails
While foe from foe extracts macabre debt.
So when the webbed-tide snares the lunars nether recesses in its glow casting shadows that arise among the craggs wedged beside some cliffs of common confirmed debris of the unnamed fallen heaps of mucked mired forgottned decay of worthless grime not meriting the struggles of a just reclaim promptly caused to fester including the residue of the reprehensibles whose lacking morals that from some particular decedent, intrusive spirit of Ne'ermere that steer souls to the steppes of the moors, where thou commands those hounds that wish to sever your sensitive skins and drain your spirit waters down that moat where your convictions will spark a lifetime of despair, honors the ambling of the blood moon of its wayward course of trailed afflictions that you wished and begged for death's swift visit for the determined inklings inscribed on petals of the columbine and their guarded secrets, steeped in the devil's brew of stirred concoctions meant for the hags of Ne'ermere and the warlocks of destruction and mayhem who pounces playfully on their prey of the misguided who are filled with disillusioned words that are as hollow as you, e'er stretching the imaginative liquified existence exposing a mirage of iniquities galvanizing its hold of treasured happenstance of certainties lost, fulfills a page of the intrepid who is but a shimmer presenting hope a hand of salvation gathered up in a smotherance and they'll all flicker away, anointing souls spared the vacuum of insignificance for doomsday is here bridging the channeled souls in their mortal state of decay of their tenous grasp of withered mass of fiberous veins where remnants of vigourous life succumbs to their true demise of the incredibly hideous and the indescribable now in the passage way between dying and death of their heinous acts of torturous screams bellowing throughout the chamberous pits of the unwanted dead where the lame, mute, and deaf search the living dead for their body parts, of severed limbs, eyes that hang out of the eyesockets, the unjointed tendons that flay about ever so freely, stenched air that festers while not only choking of whatever remians, seemingly an act of deceny, bestowing on the residue of assemblage from the former occupant, might be afforded an instantaneous journey into the sunrise of the...everlacking.
2019 September 18
The bluebird's nest
A mother bluebird sits on her eggs,
fretful and worried, looking for the dregs
Of the life that belonged to her.
And all was peaceful and all was right, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And all was good and all was bright, in the bluebird's nest that night.
But the alien, the stranger, the outsider,
armed with the knowledge of her own survival
gently places a small token of success,
an egg that will hatch to be a blight upon the nest
that will suck everything away and leave only bones behind.
And all was peaceful and all was right, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And all was good and all was bright, in the bluebird's nest that night.
A set of blue gems
with a spark of life inside
yet among the sapphires was a pearl
the alien, the stranger, the outsider
emerged from inside.
And all was peaceful and all was right, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And all was good and all was bright, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And the alien, the stranger, the outsider
having clawed its way to life
Like a vacuum, began to fill itself up
With whatever may come before it.
And all was peaceful and all was right, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And all was good and all was bright, in the bluebird's nest that night.
Growing in strength, stealing the nutrients, the life from those less fortunate,
It began its takeover.
The little bluebirds quivered beneath it.
It will truly be the death of them.
And all was peaceful and all was right, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And all was good and all was bright, in the bluebird's nest that night.
Draining the soul from the nest
Turning the mother bird into a slave of her own child
The bluebirds had no future ahead,
Muddied waters,
An empty horizon.
Emaciated, they began to lose hope.
And nothing was peaceful and nothing was right, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And nothing was good and nothing was bright, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And the little bluebirds died in the night,
and the alien, the stranger, the outsider had taken everything it had wanted and thrown it all away.
It lost the one thing he didn't feel it needed.
Its "mother's" love.
And all was peaceful and all was right, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And all was good and all was bright , in the bluebird's nest that night.
Dawn Forever Rising
It starts
Street lights fade
their tiny soft-winged tenants flee
checkerboard facades change
last night's illumined squares now dark
become but yesterday's portals
some polished
some weather streaked
all reaching to reflect first breath
Steam ascends from the city's vacuum
gratings rattle with subterranean yawning
people-movers wind their way
through mazes of starts
stops
Topside tracks
like fixed contrails
glisten with frost
not yet enjoined by speeding transit
their skeletal tributaries
readying the trickle of humanity
into a mass ocean of glass and steel survival
Uptown
Downtown
A street sweeper's tire rubber and swirling brushes
beneath the overalled believer in Lottos
holding firm the wheel and gears of faith
of trust
gathering gutter-lodged disposal
glass and plastic
paper and cardboard
spinning into the vortex
lifting yesterday's careless cast-offs
inviting today's Starbuck anew
reflections of another kind
Leashes strain from anxious sniffing
bladders hold
ready to burst
seeking just the right tree
the right hydrant
the "ah, yes" that only a canine can know
Rays of sun begin spilling down alleyways
the long-tail rodents scamper for cover
their bellies full
seeking safety after a long night of ancient ritual
food of anything
digestion of history
all in a night's work
Suddenly
Full light cascades down avenues and streets
itinerant pigeons and seagulls spread habitual wings
ready to adore the steadies
the loners
park walkers
window ledge dependables
homeless with dance cards of crumbs
envying the moneyed insomniacs throwing chunks
baguettes gone stale
fit for few
a feast for many
senses loving the coos and warbles
the bobbing thank you
the reciprocal bonding
few but the lonely can appreciate
Finally
The steel and glass imitation of nature
comes fully alive
a sun's illumination without reserve
energy's provision for another day
Rich mix with the poor
money exchanges hands
the hotdog vendor
the hedge fund taker
the cookie jar provider
Most become tomorrow's yesterday
knowing little of the other light
requiring no rising or setting
illumination that never grows dim
something as nothing
forever light
never of darkness
Such for some
awakens from a New York sunrise
this dichotomy like no other
forever reminding
our eyes of dawn
one's inner light
is forever rising
Space Rock Climber was born to the void
On an asteroid named for its ores and metals
Orbiting the sun one year after another
Morning never comes
Day never breaks
Silence goes on forever dead
A 10 year old son abandoned by parents
Who moved back to their home planet, Earth
The boy climbs rocks for a living on a rock
Food ran out two years ago
The climber turned to stones and minerals
Surviving on dirt sustenance alone
Rocks stay in place forever with their flavor
Easy to hunt down in craters
Black skies scream at the stars
Lack of atmosphere, depleted air
Low oxygen, no spare tanks, parental lies
Laid out on the platform of dark horizons
No one lives for long in outer space
Parents should not leave their children all alone
Like so much liter waste and weightlessness
He forgot their names
Embraced the great beyond as his domain
They had no room on board the ship they said
If only he were a little lighter
Perhaps he would fit between the gold and silver
Shipments of such commodities are revered
Rock climber has no name
It is not needed in this environment
Temperatures run from the sun
From hot to cold as is expected
Climate fluctuates that way in space
The young man stays the same
Stands on solid ground
Time sets no limits on the day
As the asteroid tumbles on
No doubt it has directions figured out
A barren rock is not a proper home
If he could remember, he would forget
It's for the best
Abandonment is not healthy for the mind
Mom and dad left him minors tools
Smiled and gave advice
They told him to climb high ridges
And wave good-bye
It is a trial out in space
Cry’s go unheard and serve no purpose
The vacuum of the void defines survival
This is the only world he knows
Rock Climber goes up the granite inclines
To find minerals for his soul
He grows too old to work
Then something happened
As luck would have it a collision just occurred
An asteroid hit his little world
Hurled him and his rock back home
Finally he would see the Earth
Enter the atmosphere in a hurry
Just in time to tell his mom and dad
Don't worry! Don't burn alone!
I'm here so we can have a blast together
It was quite a surprise to us
when monsters came out of the night,
the beasts and bad guys of legends
who for so long gave us a fright.
We thought they lived on movie screens,
pulpy books, and local folklore,
until they came to prey on us,
and we all learned that they were much more.
The panic, at first, was intense,
folks were dying, it seemed surreal,
vampires, zombies, werewolves, ghosts,
and other such beasties were real.
They were as bad as legend said,
but we soon figured out one truth,
the ways to kill them in legend
really worked—we knew what to do.
The werewolves were the easiest,
you just bought some silver-tip rounds,
given all this country’s hunters
it took two years to gun them down.
As for ghosts, if you do not know,
ectoplasm is diffuse matter,
floating in air, it is easy prey
for the common vacuum cleaner.
Then dump it into a furnace,
and watch the ghostie burn away,
old houses everywhere were safe,
no more hauntings came into play.
Vampires could blend in the best,
of the monsters they killed the most,
UV flashlights or smeared garlic
was all it took to make them toast.
The zombies, good lord, they were slow,
and not all that hard to destroy,
army snipers would take head shots,
and attack choppers were deployed.
They’d shoot down with their miniguns,
guaranteed they’d catch zombie head,
since the undead liked to cluster,
an easy target for sprayed lead.
We even had a kaiju-type
dragged its lumbering form onshore,
just as big as a skyscraper,
a three-hundred foot carnivore.
We fired antiship missiles,
half-dozen of them did the trick,
set up some coastal air patrols
to take care of the beasts right quick.
In retrospect, it all makes sense,
after all, we are humankind,
we’ve been waring since we could walk,
countless weapons came from our mind.
We’ve killed sabertooths and smallpox,
run down real threats without pity,
killed tens of thousands in battle,
even nuked two of our cities.
What’s a werewolf compared to that?
What threat’s a vampire these days?
Those beasts should be afraid of us,
since we always find ways to slay.
Maybe we need better monsters,
a challenge for our evolved state,
something that can inspire fear,
the kind we can appreciate—
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Written: June 09, 2024 For Ink Empress Contest
“a mute tongue is a slave to silence” - Silent One
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Let his eyes, his hug, and his grasp
convey what his mouth fears to say
His mother keeps an eye on her kid
In his first winter, he caught a lot of sun —
and watched the dust and air
Getting to the crib by horseback
Silence —
Through the susurrus sound stream
coruscating crimson spills subdue
whilst words whipped wassail
deep within a stymie pirouette
speaking in scarce slave silence
twisting mental sinews —
wrestle within a tight wooden link
In the recesses of a soft tongue
There is silence and no vitality
spewed utterances induce shame
letting souls bleed silently
Then, fear and doubt percolate.
Silence —
Endless streams of ingots land down
umpteen, rejuvenating, and dewy
signs of trust, optimism, and passion
Innuendo arty souls, albeit poetic syntax
hamstringing people with an arrow —
words convey verisimilitude vacuum
life thrives inside the one with insight
his devotion expands spreading apace
peaceful and fulfilling, ethical goals
erase worries, tears, and years.
Silence —
Lost in a celestial room, in a dream
flicker of fleeting rage
frightening fetching to fall in fetters
unexpected cacophony of sounds.
a wail escaped —
at the beckoning of serenity,
words gushed out forcefully
as if through a sluice
a stunning orchestral serve
was launched —
wonderful whirlpool
of seraphic wispy whims.
Silence —
He broke beyond obmutescence bounds
effortlessly eradicating despondency
and invigorating the once-quiet abyss
silence akin to a servant's shroud
have the courage to voice our opinions
exude confidence and vim
disrupt the enchantment
soak up the language —
let your tongue reflect and respond.
an inner whirlwind.
Silence —
Quiddity of nature resides within
the wreath of gloomy academia
such my final words, pulchritude
words with plumose wings
branch stretching —
whittle vine from the brittle barks
alpine brightness, as speckled embers
as pogonip laden its lair
moments before the kiss perches
snow covered it under Winter —
and forgetfulness blurs my dreams.
Silence —
I see a shiny castle
On a high mountain top
Surrounded by a starry hassle
Of bright dancing stars
With moon hanging on its pillars
In the bed of puffy clouds
I see the candle light
Shining through narrow windows
Of the top floor arched pillars
My heart fills with unbearable
Longing and desire to touch
The light with my fingertips
I know I have to reach it
In the darkness of the night
I start my pilgrimage
That lasts years of despair
Being lost and scared
Taking risky paths that lead
To the darkness and demise
I panick and gave up many times
After thousands of sleepless nights
I float in the vacuum of despair
And I am losing my affair
With the shiny alluring light
But in the depth of starry night
I see the omen of hope and delight
I see the lights of castle’s
Narrow windows every night
In dreams of deep insomniac daze
I see my hands reaching the light
In one passionate flight
But it seems the castle evades
My desperate attempts
And flies deep in to the
Darkness of the abyss
After all those years
Of exhausting search
I am hopelessly lost
Sinking into dark cold empty
Nothingness I give up my
Precious task once again
I spend eternity in suspenseful
Numbness till one day
After light years away
Suddenly I see the magical
Light flickering again
Much closer than ever
In front of my eyes
I reach my arms cautiously
But the light doesn’t shy away
For the first time I try once again
Almost touching its fiery edge
In one leap of despair
Hanging up in the air
Suddenly I see a bottomless abyss
That separates me from the castle
After so many years of attempts
I am no longer afraid or tense
I take a deep breath and descend
in to the pit of running waters
Into the coldness of unknown
Unrecognizable scary world
That I never encountered before
Emptiness surrounds me
After all those years of being lost
I no longer struggle I must
Descend into the running waters
And float into the infinity
But once again suddenly
I feel solid ground under my feet
And like a bird in one leap
I fly to the mountain
Till its shiny top
With the wind behind my back
Where the gates of the castle
Are invitingly open
And I step in to the
Magical light
That I was chasing all those
Long years of
Being lost
In darkness
An evanescent bouquet of skewed briars,
is how a tinsel laden tawdry essence wickedly unfolds ,
scuppered signpost to a fetid human compost,
faint light pendant on soul crushed quantum migrant,
who might chortle at vivid veil flimsy vacuum,
skirt recklessly around bogus symbols,
peer behind the squalid limp sodden hedge,
mock myopic moribund mist upon boundary busting dawn chimera,
sneer at synthetic spectrum elastic in its irritating tidal wave surfeit,
cerulean fabric‘s milky way escape plot,
in a perilous quest for that eternal tape loop mantra,
the synaptic heart of that vainglorious horizon,
self-knowledge under charcoal moon and silver cloud veneer,
or feral waste rapid fire contagion,
the indecisive day glow dither on the margins ,
of fly weight feeble frantic dash,
that velvet shadow treason daubed pettifog,
known as tangential wanton cobweb fester creed,
the mind a bloated ripple vortex numbing in its scope,
golden mirage but faux fur real concoction,
against the banal backdrop of complex-ridden superficial eddy,
from floral garland poseur stricken en train,
some vox pop indignation mere shrinking violet showcase waver,
the gleam-hued truth has this dastardly demonic derailment,
that I brush aside as spiteful oxalic sting repost,
that deceptive mint green forest of chameleon cant,
sly nuanced molten maple syrup hint,
from out of kilter tree pierce otherworld,
unseen yet bliss-edged virtual garden of firm conviction,
not just from isolated enigmatic individual script,
such as torrid turbulence or mindless scattered rim shot,
when conventions can be altered in exotic prose,
human zeitgeist has this far too often penchant,
for silkworm rapt effervescent double speak,
whilst plain unvarnished uplifting utterance,
resides within the deep crystal spring well,
of us torch aloft emerald earthling sages,
please augment the rock buttress stark phrase,
whose bluntness is a carrier pigeon of candor,
devoid of muted gray cloud blind waffle,
aromatic sprig to giant spasm of bold pluck,
quandary of human race at hearth,
frightened cliques, hidebound yes men who yen,
to swim the azure gulf of august freedom,
to the Eden where lucid tongues herald pristine witness.
where values at the centre of our being should blossom