Long Volcanic Poems
Long Volcanic Poems. Below are the most popular long Volcanic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Volcanic poems by poem length and keyword.
I'm trapped in this cave
Enslaved by a legion of chains
Your puppets jeer and taunt
Painting the wall as droplets fall
The cobra dance in the flame
Scarlet and velvet choke the air
Till a heartbeat broke in the lair
Creeping echoes from the deep
Stir my memories from their sleep
Your eyes hollowed
Your heart borrowed
You .... whore, let it ..... rain!
Volcanic skies feed your ...... greed!
Burn your tapestries, soaked in sin
Treasure the rot that festers within
As Cleopatra choked on the serpent’s kiss
So Drown in venom. Drown in bliss
My epiphany, late
For I was far too blind to see
Your love a mask of lies
A vampiress, thirsts for her meal
Crossing the sea with blood to spill
You clouded my crystal cerulean skies!
A succubus in disguise
'seeing red the siren screams'
Plundering hopes and dreams
In the path of Vesuvius
Drums of madness of the chorus
'Crimson emaciated curtains descend upon the floor
Moribund, eviscerated, veiled; the music is no more'
Your eyes hollowed
Your heart borrowed
You .... whore! let it ...... rain!
Volcanic skies feed your ...... greed!
Burn your tapestries, soaked in sin
Treasure the rot that festers within
As Cleopatra choked on the serpent’s kiss
So drown in venom. Die in your bliss
I hate you!
I hate you!
Your eyes hollowed
Your heart borrowed
You .....whore! let it.....rain!
Volcanic skies feed your ...... greed!
Burn your tapestries, soaked in sin
Treasure the rot that festers within
Cleopatra choked on the serpent’s kiss
So drown in venom.
You .....whore, let it .....rain!
Volcanic skies feed your .....greed!
Go drown in your venom.
you (unholy) (bloody) gorgon
You! Ouroboros-cursed (witch)!
i... hate y-oooouu...
i... hate y-oooouu...
i... (bloody) hate you...
I... (bloody) hate you...
around eight hundred million years ago
they say the earth was frozen whole
there was nothing then to know
no life with any soul
two hundred and fifty million years ago
this world was engulfed in volcanic flame
ninety percent of life, lost in the glow
no god or government to blame
then came ten million years ago
apes start descending from trees
eventually hominids start to grow
using stone tools for their life’s ease
it was two million years ago
the world feels a habilis migration
these hominids are now in full flow
coveting land is now their fixation
some one million years ago
Erectus, take control of fire
cooking food, they come to know
a fueling of, their heart’s desire
only a few hundred thousand years ago
Sapiens find a source of power
words, as well as spears they throw
and earth sees a coming of its hour
it was just seven thousand years ago
using stone is yesterday’s news
metalworking changes the status quo
igniting, a technology fuse
some five thousand years ago
Sapiens ego is now flying high
there is heaven above and hell below
a wondering, cognitive shift to why
it was just two hundred years ago
Sapiens numbered around one billion
using resources they cannot borrow
no worries, they just carry on
so where do they now go
unknowing, they become eight billion
as their earth, begins to feel this blow
a collective perspective they shun
so to you, a thousand years from now
please look back on us with favour
we did our best, thought we knew how
and hope we left you, something to savour
Tonight I will not write
of stars, nor moon,
seeds of wisdom--
just mind flattering
bloom--
Nor will I write of love--
neither here nor above;
though our dearest
sentimentality, the heart,
too often foolishly enacts
its own fatality;
and if I decide to write
(which I have not yet)
it will not be the common
dark vs light--
No, not this, low, literary-fruit
will I harvest, arm and lather;
pick high and low to gather--
likewise, I will divest of
good angels vs evil counterparts--
my rules, my pen; therefore, for me,
some spades can be clubs,
and all pointed diamonds I declare
are now well-rounded, suitable, hearts--
Nor will my Poetic-theme
be of great, vast seas;
nor smaller phrases
of streams—the writer’s
usual surge to roar
that calms to a sleepy bore….
and certainly not
will I write about depth
of self esteem--
the shallow image of self
often incapable of
of deep, worthy gleam;
though seldom do others
see us mere puddles
as we to ourselves
are wrong to deem
(though never approaching
the great-self,
alas, most of us
will only let dream)--
so, tonight, self for me will rest...
and if brought to theme
it will only be for rhyme, my easy best;
Oh! That Poetic Shopping-cart:
shelves of prose! Aisles of mesmeric gleams!
like Poe’s mystic schemes--
clouds feeding voraciously off headless peaks—
those fantastical shoulders we desperate writers
must climb if to find our lofty seeks--
all creative mind’s begging for such volcanic leaks—
No! I will not pontificate on these, for the best programmers
many do still believe are little more than
Charlatans or geeks--
Nor as subject will I attempt the Divine;
our soul’s hope to progress, as wine,
to some vintage state--though, without tasting,
when compared to life’s offered new...
such abstaining, perhaps, not worth
the spirit's residue--
Nor will I attempt metaphors yet more mysterious--
maybe, even delirious; though often told
such intoxicating views, like the morning dews
can be practical lifesaving for both greens and blues--
sadly, such pasture-valleys thoughtless men
have turned to breathless, rat-infested alleys;
No! Tonight
should I decide to write
I will write of other things…
I will write...hum….
I will write… simply, Goodnight….
What do we perceive to make of this word
Generated in this modern mans world
Lets take a trip back, lets look and see
What makes a Miracle to be
The awesome explosion of millennium past
The very first day life took it's first gasp
The very next day we began to evolve
It was the day, Earth started to revolve
The revolve is our generator of the life we see
As we read this line, it was to be
Organisms small, that grew so tall
Past life's creatures, that existed to fall
But its in the newer world, the Miracle came about
Out of the ordinary, which led the people to shout
Eventful happenings never seen before
Volcanic eruption, opening Earth's door
Meteors streaking across the sky
Crash landing, tell me why
The Earth quakes to shake us up
Fissures, abrupt
Weather patterns all year round
As we grew, we had to understand
We are further on than we were before
This Miracle word we have come to adore
An earthly spore a child born
A mum and dad, the righteous norm
Freeway pile up, they all survive
How could anybody get out alive
Hudson River, plane splashes down
Hero Pilot, not one did drown
Through my eyes it's a word i see
In other eyes it's their perceive
Inspired by my favourite band Queen " The Miracle "
Black is the color of the ground
Which encircles the placid lake.
Volcanic cinders now surround
Desolate earth formed by raging quake.
Large rocks, silhouettes on the shore,
Provide shelter for small critters.
A place for winter's yearly store.
A place where pikas raise their litters
Lassen Park, a home for pikas
Who run around all summer long
Gathering supplies as fast as
The warm rays of the sun remain strong.
The extensive snows of winter
Trap the pikas safe in the den,
Where stored food is now their center.
When snow melts, an escape will open.
Though forced beneath the rocks to dwell,
The pika plans his life quite well.
*the pika is a very small lagomorph that is related to a rabbit.
10.
You are ever my love’s delight,
I lie with you through peaceful night,
our love shall be a golden sight.
Now I shall know love’s own true bliss,
I lie with you, we share love’s kiss,
nights like this I would never miss.
I caress your temple of gold,
with such gentle touch, I am bold,
love’s own heart, your heart is the mould.
Now in the stars, we share love’s grace,
our bodies join in Heaven’s space,
this is the ultimate embrace.
explodes, within you, evermore,
volcanic heat within my core,
11.
Volcanic heat within my core,
shall spread within you evermore,
the angel that I do adore.
Now you shall forever be mine,
your kisses taste of love’s own wine,
be my eternal Valentine.
Now, we do lie by starlight stream,
in the heart of a midnight dream,
in silver light of Luna’s beam.
Primal passion does have its dance,
we always come to take love’s chance,
the night is filled with sweet romance.
We now lie upon love’s own share,
we have now opened love’s own door.
12.
We have now opened love’s own door,
we lie now on love’s golden floor,
you are the love I do adore.
Now, we shall lie in peace awhile,
we shall find joy and we shall smile,
you are a lady, with such style.
Diane, you are beauty supreme,
love of my heart, my own life’s dream,
you bear the light of Heaven’s beam.
Love of my heart, my very own,
my Valentine, before love’s throne,
now, I shall never be alone.
I stand with the one I adore,
standing together, on love’s shore.
13.
Standing together, on love’s shore,
looking out on love’s land once more,
we shall feel as we have before.
Now, my love, we share one more kiss,
to fill our hearts with loving bliss,
love, we two, we shall never miss.
As together we do dance on,
all our troubles, they are all gone,
we lie upon our star-filled lawn,
What joy, we both find, deep within,
when love’s own fanfare does begin,
we know, together, love we win.
You are my joy within love’s space,
you are my love in Heaven’s grace.
to be continued..........
In Mexico there are no aliens with visas
If you listen carefully earthquakes whisper
A carriage lumbers along on 3 square wheels
With sounds known only to God in His infinite wisdom
Plump women sing volcanic tunes to platonic old men
Leathery faces trace their lineage back through time
Struggling through dirt streets to church
Pot holiness causes the donkey to sink inside
The happy mule pulls the cart while humming
Minstrel songs in burro languages of long ago
Knowing there is a carrot at the end of the road
Volcanic Ash Wednesdays come with a cross
Once a year cemeteries come alive in November
It must be the 1st. as the marigolds are fragrant
Freshly cut flowers with aromas arrive
Day of the Dead is a colorful occasion
Picnics are fun for those above the daisies
Dancing on graves gets crazy
"Just take this chalk," (so went his talk,
to servants sent before):
"And do not balk. When you uncork
good liquor, mark the door."
This way, the churchman planned to pass,
when pausing for a rest,
fun nights in vino veritas,
partaking of the best.
"So, sup the wine, and if it's fine,
write on the lintel (lest
I miss the sign and fail to dine
there) 'Vinum Bonum Est!'"
Off went the servant at a trot.
Would we were in his shoes!
To earn our pay, we play the sot,
by "testing" all the booze!
From bar to bar, he wanders far,
obeying that behest:
but "Vinum Bonum" starts to jar:
He shortens it to "Est"!
He sips this wine, he guzzles that,
and if he is impressed,
he makes a holy concordat,
and marks the doorway, "Est!"
Down through the Alps the servant wends,
to tread Italian soil:
so many blends, to greet as friends!
Unto his task, stays loyal.
Both white and red, their bottles bled,
are flowing like the Arno:
by destiny, the servant's led
to Montepulciano!
Volcanic slopes (some are the Pope's!)
make wine that's heaven-blessed:
and, titillated as he topes,
he chalks up, "Est! Est! Est!"
Some days elapse -- a week, perhaps.
Beneath the tavern's eaves,
round Bishop wraps the sweetest of traps --
he arrives, but never leaves!
The wine is fine -- almost divine --
Soft, like an angel's breath;
To toe the line, he's disinclined --
and drinks himself to death!
And though this tale's beyond the pale,
a moral you may wrest --
each holy grail's adorned with nails --
go slow with Est! Est! Est!
August Promise
Every year I say, come August and I will go to Norway
but every you’re the flight ticket goes up, when mulling this over
it is suddenly, September wonder-full is the weather
of the sun, clouds and occasional rain.
The rain in Spain does not fall in my vale the lake is dry has for years
nevertheless, in September, there is a new spring
green grass and flowers more demure in colours
So, what, I hear you say, and I agree beauty does not need to be explosive
as we have had enough of car bombs and other colourful devices
killing people whose only crime is a lack of dress sense – a black bra under a white blouse
and tasteless golf pants.
Long walks for us elderly we look up and for a fleeting moment
Ask rather banal questions,
something told at bible classes we endured at school
“who created this wonder?”
God never gets the blame when storms sink ships, and there is landslide
volcanic eruption, not to forget the endless war the smell of cordite drifting afar.
We have the fallen angel (the devil) to blame for that.
Our towering talisman…glowering totem…manic volcanic Viking King..
The flowering genesis of a powering nemesis…
Herculean but Sisyphean struggles showering..
The penury of injury…intrigue of fatigue…cavorting
With the clarity and lack of charity
Of ripsnorting depravity and disparity of sporting gravity..
Another unfair body scare on the square or Stokes lair…for our oh so rare.. devil may care…flair compere with his flame red hair…
Lifts his head..this lad instead..after his century score.. Mr Chutzpah thought of his Pa..
From afar..giving the four finger nod to his God…who he did adore.. his Dad..Jed..
Echoes of the potential exponential reverential sublime prime of the Big Ben chime…
For the first time a 5 fer and a ton in the same game…
He already stands tall in the hall of fame…bat and ball..
In the field.. got it all ..but makes you dream of what could have been..
Or still could be...the punter chunter plea..
Crepuscular muscular taunts haunt…grim rasping demons grasping his limbs..tinging..singing impinging…
Why won’t his body and boots be in cahoots …swingeing bingeing like Roots…
No synapses collapses..eschews tussles and issues with muscles tissues and sinews..
Becomes the most impressive.. expressive..leather wizard…willow warlock..
Our ever present iridescent primal tribal bible…another level devil..
Resilient.. brillant…heroic..stoic..the sort of hard fought cohort
That makes Test cricket the halcyon don of all sport..