Long Warning Poems
Long Warning Poems. Below are the most popular long Warning by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Warning poems by poem length and keyword.
Black star breaking in my chest,
light spills out where the shadows pressed.
I’m not falling — I’m shedding the weight.
I rise when the dark shell breaks.
There’s a pressure building under bone,
a quiet storm I carried alone.
Every fear I swallowed whole
turns to gravity around my soul.
A sphere of everything I never said,
every memory I kept unfed —
it tightens, pulls, begins to spin,
a dark star forming deep within.
No warning, no whisper,
just the silence growing crisper.
I feel the moment start to bend —
every ending wants to be an opening again.
Alien on the stage,
close encounter with my rage.
Black star, black balloon —
I’m breaking out of my cocoon.
When the dark shell cracks,
I get every missing piece back.
Reclamation in my veins —
I rise again, I rise again.
The weight becomes too much to hold,
the core collapses, bright and bold.
Not destruction — transformation,
a soft detonation of revelation.
Truth falls like cosmic rain,
washing off the years of pain.
The body loosens, the burden fades,
I step out of the ruins I made.
No fear, no tether,
just the self returning to the center.
Every shard I thought I lost
comes home, no matter what it cost.
Alien on the stage,
close encounter with my rage.
Black star, black balloon —
I’m breaking out of my cocoon.
When the dark shell cracks,
I get every missing piece back.
Reclamation in my veins —
I rise again, I rise again.
Endings are openings.
Grief is a husk.
The brightest truths
hide in the darkest dust.
You were never meant to stay small.
You were never meant to stay caged.
You were always meant to burst,
to scatter,
to return.
Alien on the stage,
close encounter with my rage.
Black star, black balloon —
I’m reborn inside the bloom.
When the dark shell breaks,
the whole cosmos wakes.
Reclamation in my veins —
I rise again, I rise again.
The cosmos keeps what you can’t hold…
and gives it back
when you’re ready
to rise.
Sensing the atmosphere for omens.
Signs of impending, cusp and verge.
I ping and curl, scrape to drudge up-
internal program and hit send
and hope for good vibes return "not the end."
I have become a lightless diode.
A buzzing lamppost in the neighborhood
of victimhood and it's backstreet node.
A useless burnt out core in off mode.
A robot running over castles
premade in the sand.
I try to read between the lines,
decrypt the Oracles plans behind,
the fulfilling jinx it has in store foe me.
Stars aligned.
A telepathy mainlining, a pulse headlining freakshow.
Of kinetic belonging, or safety net I used to abide in
long ago.
When the world had justice and overseer
and endearment-
enthronement-thoughts of the faithful.
I long for the ether of a hint,
graft me in with your marrow, splint, in the know.
Don't leave me high and dry,
Alone and crooked, wicked bent.
Odious clouds and signature mounds.
Terra-blyte your foretelling,
Either a warning or a telling of blue skys color turning.
Ether, of any which way the wind blows in my mind.
A private message, rather stalking.,
as it stands a topography cone of cold stand.
Your best made plans, for me
for the tasting, cast of shadow.
forecast, menacing.
Bound to be set in stone, found rather mocking.
Injected in-guest-guessing an after the fact thing,
for me.
You read my fear as I fill
a prescription of
my self fulfilled prophecy,
rolling the bones
with fate's hands.
I hear there's power in the knuckles,
the joints, the suggestion of glands.
Just. Faint whispers,
whisking by
warning-arrows
with no flame-
no spark burning for me.
Just a whisker filament, fading to the darkest
sharade of gray, hit parades.
To shade my own guilty sense of judgment.
Of putting my trust in false things.
With their superficial gradient of monochrome;
night rainbows,
overlooking Styx river country home
aside a brick road leading all the way to Thunderdome.
My sonar/feeler brain finding it's way
in the dark like a worm in the dung.
In someone else's element.
With no taste for mental or spiritual atonement.
Or the taste of Hope's spark on my tongue.
Get me inside quickly and as fast as you can,
please turn the time travel dial to September 1963
Get me to a post office in Washington, D.C.,
so I can send an important letter to Jacque Kennedy.
The letter will tell her about her premature son, Patrick,
I will give her his four pound birth weight.
To prove I know what I am talking about,
I will tell her about my time travel, and warn her of the fate
And that her husband, President John F. Kennedy
is in grave danger, and that on November 23rd, 1963,
If she lets him go to Dallas and ride in an open limousine,
he will be assassinated at her knee.
Trip number two, will bring me to February 1968,
but I will stay in the same post office. Here is the thing.
I will write a detailed letter to Coretta Scott King,
warning her about the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King.
To prove that I am reliable I will tell her that January 30th,
1956 is the day that a bomb
will go off on her porch, but it will not hurt anyone.
After a little sandwich, and a drink in a cold fountain,
I will now dial up August 14th, 1969, and head to Catskill Mountain,
It will be splendid to be the first to arrive,
At Woodstock, a day ahead of the crowd
of 400,000, now I am feeling truly alive.
I will be civil, not puffed up or proud.
I will spend three glorious days enjoying the music here,
marvel at the hip-hugger bell-bottoms, and dear
black and white dairy cows, staying clear
of the braless women and the minds that are a bit unclear.
My last trip is easy. I will return to two days ago,
and from breakfast re-do that entire day.
I was pretty mean to my husband,
and I would like to stop myself from acting that way.
I was minding my own business one day,
sipping coffee, scrolling calmly,
feeling young enough to outrun time
and maybe even sassing it a little.
Then~
without warning,
without paperwork,
without even the courtesy of a calendar alert~
age leapt out from behind a houseplant,
tapped me on the shoulder,
and whispered,
“Surprise… you’re the same age as old people now.”
I gasped
then glanced around.
There must be some mistake.
They must’ve meant someone creakier, crankier,
someone who voluntarily discusses fiber.
But no~
the mirror nodded,
my knees filed a complaint,
and my back muttered,
“I was expecting you.”
And that’s how it happened:
one quiet day,
one innocent moment,
and suddenly~
I was my own timeline punchline.
I was minding my own business~
the next thing I know
I’m the same age as old people.
EEGADS!
I said I am going to get back at you
So here it is
Why do you think women call the shot?
Because if we wait for you
Things will never get done
While we are on that subject
When was the last time things go your way?
Haha
Too funny
Don’t be mad at me
I am just speaking the truth
Is there anything else you want me to speak about?
Because I can sit here all night
And think of ways why we are superior to you
Like the time when you want something
Did you think you want it
Or is it because I want it?
All things yield to me –the woman
You’d better believe it
Lol
It’s true
Haha
I’ll leave it for now
Unless you provoke me
You will live in peace
Too much info to take
But there are more
I just want to spare you the agony
Of knowing the unknowing
But don’t say I didn’t warn you
Too funny
On a dark and rainy afternoon
Whence I’d been sentenced to my bedroom
For my crime of failing to take care
To not be a pain in my mother’s derriere
As it happens, I was a lad of six
Full of mischief and annoying tricks
Apparently, I had failed to take warning
That had been admonished all morning
Thus, when afternoon did arrive
Tried, convicted, and sentenced was I
Confined to barracks until further notice
Oh, what the heck, I’d make the most of it
I played for a while with a couple of toys
Yet, this furnished so very little joy
There on a shelf sat a book my sister said
I’d really enjoy if I wasn’t so thick in the head
I looked at the cover and it did look fun
The title was The Swiss Family Robinson
Now this came to pass, though my heart didn’t swoon
A love affair began that very afternoon in my room
I while still at tender young age was that day engaged
As I fell in love with words on a page
A foolish heart on a merry- go- round
Can never see those up and downs
Turning sometimes under, over, out of sight
Soaring love makes you giddy, up on flight
Captivated floating above the ground !
A foolish heart never hears those warning signs
Those spaces between those whispers
that will never be mine
Still seeking with a vulnerable hope
A yearning for affection, or to catch that
averted gaze on a slope!
A foolish heart never hears nor sees rejection
For in time love is all but just a projection
Thrown into madness, the heart but comes alive
and brings
Confusion it was, but how can you run from such a captivating thing?
Attraction drawing you in, like a moth to a flame!
We can die for love, and that’s a crying shame
My heart tried to hide, but came back to seek
What could it do? It was a foolish heart
it became too weak!
3.3.22
Sponsor: L.Milton HANKINS
Contest: “My Foolish Heart”
Accursed human species
case in point Vladimir Putin,
who strikes terror across globe.
Don't underestimate his hell bent
zeal to attack United States,
one blood sucking infernal
predacious *****sapien
mercilessly bullies, interrogates,
threatens... with zeal.
Considerably less mortifying
constitutes wrathful ordeals
exhibited by adults who treat
thine wife with indecorous jibes
like punks who sat back of bus
or classmates at Methacton
High School, mine alma mater.
No different than typical mean kids
many crotchety residents here
Highland Manor Apartments
majority residents aggrieve the missus
though said counterpart (thee spouse)
exudes standoffish poise
countenance dons and
nonverbally trumpets scowl
body language broadcasts
social graces be damned
easily interpreted as snub
engendering hostile imprecations
cruelly fiendish provocations
undermine capacity to experience
peace of mind
exacerbated by her
figurative cold shoulder
propensity to flip the bird
notched, ratcheted, torqued... tension
courtesy miss prissy heiress,
daughter, she secured management role
albeit (hats off) to nepotism
guarantees lifelong job security
issued thee missus warning
rental stipulation disallows
overt middle finger flashing signal
emotional entanglement ensued
yours truly tasked
to pursue more favorable environment,
yet scant finances (mine)
and poor credit
two strikes against
locating affordable living situation
since sole family income
social security disability
direct deposited monthly
buzzfeeding checking account
regularly near anorexic,
cuz additionally I pay
costs of living expenses
cole king avoiding being homeless,
thus this penniless
among dime a dozen
day late dollar short
low income bracketed
(marching with madness)
mister casts quandary
couched as poetry,
no great expectations,
nonetheless cathartic to communicate
(hoop fully understandable)
present tense plight
projected as plotted trend
fat and/or slim chance
fate will curse me as lottery winner
pipe dream teasing
this word plumber flush with ire,
who feels nsync and drained
scraping hand to mouth
bemoaning apathy, dismal
effort, gross indifference
toward self sums (mein kampf)
plus academic struggles
proffers grim forecast
as coxswain at mercy
rudderless ship of state
edges closer to his waterloo.
It was a dream about a FIRE; or was it a WARNING about a business
Proposition? This fire was started in our home in our heater. Nothing
Is unusual about trying to keep warm, but this fire was different. It was Started by a relative, and it was at first very much appreciated. Nevertheless, Immediately, the FLAMES became very INTENSE, and did not Diminish.
It was a WINDY day, and I could see that the flames were greatly effected
By the STRONG wind, because the flames were WRAPPING round the corner Of our house. I started checking the walls of the house to ascertain whether They Were normal or being OVERHEATED. My suspicion was well founded as I Could SEE that the walls were taking TOO MUCH HEAT. I was very concerned But did not PANIC. I did not want to call the fire department Just yet; so I Obtained a water hose and began to SPRAY water on the front and side walls, Preventing a catastrophe. I could not understand why the fire became so INTENSE, so RAPIDLY. Immediately after the fire was brought under CONTROL, the dream disappeared as SUDDENLY as it had appeared.
The dream occurred just last night, and this morning, the dream and an Interpretation came To mind. Whether the interpretation is precise, truthful Or not, I do not know. But often an interpretation will UNFOLD in my mind. For some years now, I have believed that many dreams, but not all, are linked To what has transpired in our waking timeline. And the brain has a way of 'TRANSFIXING' our real experiences into the form of a dream.
This dream concerns the sale of property involving a trusted friend. I should Proceed with caution regarding the business matter initiated. Many of life's Experiences are loaded with VOLATILITY without assistance from us. Yet other Components of our lives become volatile when we interact with them.
101621PSCtest, Onomatopoeia Poetry, Emile Pinet
Onomatopoeia words are in caps.
I took my hand
out of my cast
just
to hold you
I bled myself dry
splitting every vein
just
to nurse you
My love
into distain
Devotion
into pain
Resentment furrows
and blows
but hatred
never grows
how could a mother
hate her child?
Why would an angel
cut its wings?
How did I see so much potential
In a fallen cherub from the sky
I just wanted you to fly
but you cut your wings
So you could merely cry
I wanted to coddle every fall
but the castle you built
was just too tall
castle-
never a home,
built on the brittleness of
your mothers bone.
your wings-
a pile of feather.
I watched the scar
turn into leather
your suffering
made you split-
like a devil and angel kiss
your cruelty-
a childish endeavor,
for the child
cannot break
his mother
loving you
like stone
every crack
reminding you
of home.
The heavens
wailing your name
though I tried,
you remain
untamed
I only wanted
to teach you
that love
doesn’t equate pain
Foolish,
trying to heal
a fallen cherub
who cut its wings
In vain.
you defy
the cries of heaven
because you hate
your mother from Hell.
you refuse
to tend your wounds
so your earthly mother
must help
I kiss the cuts
self induced
and ignore
the warning bells
reminding myself
you’re but a child
who fought
until you fell