Long Veins Poems
Long Veins Poems. Below are the most popular long Veins by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Veins poems by poem length and keyword.
Africa mother Africa
Africa of scrumptious haven
Slowly stretched
Into an unscrupulous savannah
Africa of whom my grandmothers
Now sits and cry
Singing her present gore
Silhouette against her ancient glory
Your blood flows on our streets
And on our streams
Your beautiful black blood
That in time past flows in our veins
Africa that birthed warriors
Of ancestral citations
Now puppets of millennium recantation
The sweats of your toils
The scars from your slavery
The cry for your freedom
How come this has now
Transformed into a mastery
Of your present folly
You whose back was bent
To pack from her plenteous plantation
Now breaks in the continuous bid
To pick form her present carnage
Oh, sweet darling...
You are, to me,
What air is
To my lungs
And what nectar is
To a hummingbird.
The spark to rekindle
A moribund flame.
Season after season,
You shall remain the sun
In my bright summer day.
You needn't tell me
How much
You love me,
Because I see it
So clearly in your eyes.
I feel your deep love
Flowing through my veins.
And I love you
Just as much
In return, dear.
The ways
That I love you
Far outnumber...
All the fishes in the sea,
All the flowers
That bloom in spring,
And the incalculable grains
Of sand on the beach!
Most of all, it goes...
Without saying,
I love you
The way
You love me...
To the moon
And back!
'Love Me Like You Mean It' Poetry Contest (Winner: 3rd Place)
Sponsored by Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
Date written: 11/29/2019
Do those who do not read poetry know that they live in vain? It seems not...
Under the opal sky of the evening, long shadows descend,
while my heart sinks into the great ocean of melancholy,
thoughts intertwine with clouds, dissipate,
like incense smoke floating among memories
and whispers forgotten in the dark corners of the soul.
Do those who do not read poetry know what they are missing,
in a world without sacred rhythms, without words that bleed
on white paper, like an open wound in eternity?
They do not feel how verses flow through their veins,
turning blood into liquid gold,
which shines in the moonlight,
like a secret promise, always unfulfilled.
On nights without verses, what remains?
Only the dull sound of silence,
like a lost echo in the empty sky,
where stars are born and die without leaving traces,
and dreams unravel before taking shape.
My soul, a cascade of desires,
pours into the abyss of the unknown,
where every word is an incantation,
a string of black pearls sinking
into the depths of oblivion, where there is neither beginning nor end,
only a perpetual now, an infinite nowhere.
Do those who do not read poetry know that they live in the shadow of an incomplete reality,
that their soul is just a pale sketch of an unfulfilled masterpiece,
that without verses, the world is a theater without actors,
a song without echoes, a sea without waves?
And yet, here, in this heavy silence,
where only the night and I still listen to the heartbeats,
I feel how every unwritten verse presses on my chest,
like a bittersweet burden,
reminding me that poetry is the only spell that can save us,
the only lighthouse in the storm of life,
the only flame in the endless darkness.
Do those who do not read poetry know that they live in vain? It seems not...
That rage of anger flung from your mouth,
Spat at me just like a punk song.
Rehearsed groups of words making toxic ideas,
Ideas that make me sound wrong.
And my blood flows hot, veins erupt in my eyes,
Filling my lips with a roar.
And we both fight and yell, all logic is lost,
Yelling 'til our tongues are both sore.
I love your raged heat, I love your venomed lip,
I love that you're caring so much.
And I'm torn in the moment, my opponent of hate,
Now your body I just want to touch.
Then our fighting lips meet, and they fight in a primal,
Our lips punch and they push and they shove.
And our rage has all gone, gone to our heart,
And we spend the night making passionate love.
Barefoot, I want to leisurely walk
Feeling soft sands and pebbles as I stroll
Uncarelessly, nature's wind will blow
Along is my hair that lossened from a bow
Little waves from the sea will wet my feet
Yet, I do not care let it be, let me feel
Spreading and raising both arms open wide
Immensely uniting with the air and sun glow
Closing my eyes and bare my lips though
Blood in my veins run deep warmth
Air enters freely in my lungs
Swaying lightly my body on left and right
Dancing with nature a sweet flight
I start to sing songs and hum,
Singing soulfully on top of my lungs
One with awesome nature, not with anyone
Indeed a wonderful magnificent hang
by:
olive_eloi
11:46 am
02/17/2014
------------------------------
There’s something about poetry that grips me
Like gravity does the moon,
While I keep trying to let it go
It treats me like a loon.
As if I can’t control myself
And these urges in my veins,
To compose another line or two
And extinguish all the flames.
Like a Phoenix that keeps rising
From out of the deep dark blue,
And never allows my mind to rest,
No matter where or what I do.
To alleviate these phantom-like flashes
Of memories like comet tails,
Shooting across my mind and sky
As if carrying the Holy Grail.
Portending they have something important to say
To the world, to you and me,
And yet in the end it’s more like the wind
Whispering like Sirens of Titan, “Set us free.”
With notions of emotions
Full of love, lust, hate and loss,
The circle of life through dark and light
And Jesus on the Cross.
Let the words come forth right out of the source
Of wherever thoughts are conceived,
The Quantum Field, the “Plenum” revealed
The Great Maker of all we think and believe.
The vacuum of space where only a trace
Of vibration quivers out there,
Sending the Muses to confound and confuse us
Poets who dutifully dare.
As I do what I must to let go and trust
These poetic thoughts that abound,
That the words will unfold like silver and gold
And a treasure may someday be found.
© Terrell Martin, 02/22/2025
Cast aside, he plummets to the desolate earth.
Hymns of his treacherous heart consume his ears.
Tears aren’t shed, pleads aren’t wailed
He’s left atop the desecrated hollow ground.
Azrael, the Angel of Death, come
snuff out his remaining life.
Azrael, take up your bloodied scythe,
carve off his wings,
and leave clotting crescent scars on his back.
He needs his wings no more.
Kiss a crimson smile upon his neck,
he’ll not sing anymore.
Left broken, flies descend upon him.
The flies sing a song of lies.
Devouring the words, he wished he had heard
at the time of his descent.
Chewing away at who he was
Ushering in who he will become.
Neither an angel,
Nor a man.
But something else.
The flies swarm the pit.
His body lies at the center of the crater.
A crimson smile graces his neck.
Murky eyes yearn heavenward.
Maggots nested within his flesh,
eating away at his unbeating heart.
Crawling through his veins
Multiplying, devouring, transforming
The quaking rot of his new body
Bleeds veiny wings
that beat against the blackened earth.
His baptism is a vile mass of
maggots, blood, songs, and flies.
His new body
Ugly, but defined.
Flies dance upon his unblinking eyes,
He can’t cry. His tears have since dried.
The fall desiccated his eyes, stealing his cries.
Ears echoing with fading hymns,
He is dead but persists in consciousness.
Maggots worm out from his red smile,
forcing him to gurgle,
“I am the Lord of Flies”
The flies buzz in victory,
Using their teeth
the maggots squirm out of his orifices
hatching from his flesh.
They raise their bodies heavenwards,
In praise of their new lord.
Afro Beats pulse through my veins/
Deep House vibrations as Dj Vertigo X manipulates the house vinyl/
The booth is alive/High-end sequences intertwine, complex melodies wrapping around me/
Jazz Hip Hop can you hear it? Waiting for the breakdown/ Do you feel It/
The echoes of Pete Rock and DJ Krush are in the air, a dance house of history, Bling to Swing, a playful soundtrack creaking in my ear/
Downtempo grooves guide our feet, Drums thumping, bumping/
Upright bass grounding our soul/
Melodic piano loops drifting, Chords and chromatic notes shifting/
Herbie Hancock to D’Angelo, From Prince’s Crown funk to our very own, Soulful loops, Jazzy Keys, Miss Anderson wants to sing if you please/
Tempos shifting, HI/high/treble/Top/ 85 BPM, 104 BPM, feel that ebb and flow, man, the sumptuously smooth journey unfolds/
Afro Beats and Deep House collide/
listen, baby, I ain’t talkin no playboy jive/
HEART OF RUST
Today is another day.
My heart is turning brownish-red.
I walked away with nothing to say.
My words are now all rusted.
Without regretting yesterday.
I hide behind the face of the dead.
My world has turn upside down.
Suddenly my body is heartless.
My memories drip like water into the ground.
My blood swirls making my veins useless.
The stale oxygen leaves my body with no sound.
Pouring rain decaying my stubborn heart's illness.
Living in a forever color of dusk to dawn.
My heart continues the cascade with dust..
Reversing the feelings wishing they where gone.
I'm lost in this sickness, of no trust
Storing my heart in a forever pawn.
In hopes that no one ever removes the rust.
By; p.d...
.p.s., I know these poem does not follow the rules... Lol..but I had an old rusted poem..laying around....
#The_song_in_my_heart
Jingle bells serinates, soothing my soul, flowers in my heart compete to colour my spirit with their joy illuminating colours and elegant shapes, a poem I have long been meaning to write, which words got lost in gravity, unwrapping inside my heart
trance of shivers down my spine, makes butterflies in my stomach run amok, the twinkling, like fairies in Disney world, painting masterpieces of joy and art in my brain, with their pure furs and feathers
Milk and honey flows in my veins and arteries, triple echoes in my heart, the colourful life giving december blue and white butterflies, dancing side by side with happy song signing birds, dropping a basket of peace and tranquility to my heart door
My smile opens a window of crystal sparkles brewing inside me, the joy light blurs the galaxy, been sad way too long, its time I ascend and own my joyful throne, set my self gratifying selfish rules, to love and be loved unconditionally
Serinaters, dancers and masqueraders paint and fill this world with art, sing songs of love and happiness, paint artifacts of hope and peace, dance like heaven on earth, the song in my heart, continue playing, distraughted souls, tilted hearts, ravished minds come a little closer and listen to heal, to the song in my heart
#Poetic_Ink