Long Wasteland Poems
Long Wasteland Poems. Below are the most popular long Wasteland by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wasteland poems by poem length and keyword.
In the wasteland wilderness of disappointed love
I find you
Haggard and famished
Ravaged by the blazing sun
I find you
Spent and on the verge of death
I find you
I kneel beside your still form
I wet your parched lips with my tongue of truth
Your eyes flicker open
And I see the fight for life dawn
With my hand behind your neck
I gently lift your face to my breasts of nourishment
Weakly, you start to feed on my love’s sustenance
I speak softly to you, words of hope and courage
Slowly, some strength returns to your frame
Knowing the need for solid food to survive
I lay open to you the scrumptious feast of my body
A rich faire of succulent meat in abundance
More than enough to bring life back to your wasting limbs
I call you to eat...
In a frenzied need for survival you devour
Tearing into flesh, you satiate your starved body
You feed, you feed, you feed
Engorging yourself on my love
Insatiable, unstoppable, indefatigable
You feed the demon of your hunger
The memory of your near death fuels the frenzy
There is no pause in your love feast
I give, I give, I give
Still in the onslaught of your primal savagery
Knowing this ravaging repast
Will bring life to your bones
I give
Until you finally lick your fingers and lips
Satisfied
The cool of the night approaches
I languidly make you drink from my fountain
the frenzy replaced by fantasy
the fervor for survival by dessert of desire
Refreshment for the journey head
I let you regain your strength
As you then slumber on my pillowed breast
Your last night in the wilderness of disappointed love
Reaches an end with the dawn of a new day
As I hold your hand and lead you away
Out of the wilderness
and into verdant oasis
Of my love
Eileen Manassian
On my meandering lonesome journey in July
across the greening wasteland,
or along the glittering garden path,
lined with flowering saplings,
bursting with color spectrum,
the shutter of my mind opens.
The receptive film of sensuality
captures the captivating collage
with the sublime snapshots of beauty.
For the maneuvered inducement
of the passionate living,
enwrapped by the pale shroud of desolation,
defined by the transmuting tenets
of titular uniqueness,
configuring the personified kaleidoscopic identity,
I tie the knots of ebullient emotions,
dye these with the color mélange of life.
The metamorphosis creates an adorned me,
an individuality in harmony
with the altered essence,
completes the lattice of self-expression,
the paradigm of self-inspired design shift.
The labyrinth of the mind transforms into a somber temple, where glyphs of thought intertwine,
And beneath the dome of the nocturnal sky, hearts like ancient scrolls unfold and burn in incantations.
The only enclosure where man erects his biography is a veritable menagerie of dreams,
A pantheon of thoughts and phantasms, with the altar of bitter desires.
With fingers of transparent dreams, he stretches his wanderings across the inner frescoes,
Where colors blend into palimpsests, and pigment is born only when summoned.
But the depths hide the fog, unleashing sphinxes that roam the corridors of wise chaos,
And the shadows come, the night's responsory, to absorb his light, to fashion his coffin of shadows.
In this labyrinth of the self, celestial wolves and crystal deer spin round the roundel of forgetfulness,
And in the corners of darkness, basilisks nest, dreadlocks of darkness weave the feverish tapestry.
Demons silently ringing at the gate of essence, demand the toll to be freed and transfigured,
And all this reverberation, each turmoil, is an unwritten palimpsest, a silent carol.
Every breath, every tremble of the lip, is an undeciphered libretto, an unsung chord,
In the crypt of his heart, dungeons of unfulfilled passions,
Wandering on a melancholic arpeggio, on strings of a sealed and closed wasteland.
But from the darkness resists, a phoenix of thought, a leaf of hope, an unexpected flight of light,
And man deciphers that in his own labyrinth,
He is the master, the musician, and the sculptor of his boundless life.
Thus, crossing the threshold of flesh, he surrenders to the wave of dreams,
Flying on the rainbow of imagination, in his most sacred sanctuary,
Where his imprisonment is the heart of a living temple,
And he is the hidden angel, in the eternal saga of his own light.
The moist meadow of my heart
desiccates in desolation like a desert,
dispersed clouds of parched passion
make my mirage mind the deceptive sky.
The halcyon horizon I call mine waits
for the argentine moon to rise,
send from the fervent sparkling skyline
the sequins of your charisma
to swathe my sheltered shades of blues.
From the surge of sequestered sandstorm
the sands of my derelict desire drift away
from the shifting dunes of deprivation.
The dry oasis within me doesn’t remember
it was once an epitome of my longing.
Away from the wilderness of my loneliness
in the far away fawn forest,
I wish you turn into an emerald tree.
In its soothing shade I’ll like to repose,
hear the song of the leaves,
dancing in the breeze with your charm.
In the template of my seclusion,
the transient display of dreams
turns into lilting lyric of million steps
I walk to reach you,
setting free the captive heart
that quivers like the wasteland willow.
As the motif of my resolute essence
repudiates the reprisal of catharsis,
at the edge of your serenading fading shadow
I sense in the sanctum of my fossilized time
the sonata of silence.
Discombobulation hammers (sic) kills, lacerates, peppers...
tuckered wayfarer
Blitzkrieg cacophony debilitates Earthling
spiritually, mentally, emotionally... castrates
analogous post traumatic stress disorder
status simulating shell shocked warrior
dizzily descending darkening dimension
aghast - weakly ejaculate wherefore art thou
Elysian Fields?
Mine skeletal atrophied, diseased, gnarled...
once muscular flesh now awful blight
trumpets, dons, bespeaks... existence
regarding barren toothless anchorite
desolate physical environment
offlimit superfund site
mirrors equivalent condemned
toxic physical body quite
piteous, hideous, atrocious...,
this human bag of lovely bones
can barely, limply, scratchily... write
forbidding natural geography might
best demarcate courtesy skull
and crossbones bleached white
optimally reflecting feasting
carrion did delight
post mortem cannibalized habeas corpus
can never know where Edenic Garden
bloomed ah... magnificent sight,
nor reckon eyes me
how poetry doth not excite
forever striking living daylight
emancipating soul joining spiritus mundi
relieving tortured corporeal skiff good night
amidst abandoned, desecrated,
gutted... wasteland rendered might
of mankind quest to tame and temper
breathless fecundity kickstarting
rejuvenation linked to potent Gaia despite
havoc wrought regenerative force
repurposes deadened muscle and cellulite
unbeknownst decomposed organisms
comprise yours truly, nor what bright
transformation new life subsequently results
will kindle, snapchat, tender... excite.
When the sad eyes sink at depth of dark to see
light in the sanctum of soul, still like deep sea,
find where do the tear drops you shed go to lie
at the edge of scorched heart till they are dry.
Mind then comes out of mist to glide with glee
at silky pace like the fleet of clouds sailing free
in sapphire stretch of no end in the seamless sky
where beguiled life spreads wings to soar high.
Tinged rays of the new sun glint the face of gloom,
the revived buds of wasteland plants again bloom,
splash of hue wafts to the soul that shines bright
as it gets suffused with the divine glow of inner light.
________________________
April 21, 2022
Contest : Anything You Want-New Poems Only
Sponsored by : Chantelle Anne Cooke
Wandering on winding path in wasteland
faint footprints disappear in sands of time.
Forgot from where this journey had begun,
where it will end for the forlorn wayfarer.
Under the scorching blaze of the summer sun
desiccated life languished forsaken parched.
Searching a wayside tree, branches spread wide,
I yearn for the serenading shade of empathy.
Chasing mirage on dwindling dunes of despair
hope lost of taking life to the illusion of oasis.
Looking now to storm brewing in the horizon,
I pine for calm clouds to bring rains of solace.
Shards of broken heart frozen in winter chill
long for the frost to clear at the dawn of spring.
Seeing butterflies flutter over blooming petals
I crave to fly on wings of ecstasy in zephyr of love.
July 23, 2019
Trudging scorched in the wilderness of desiccated life
in the shifting maze of your deceptive shadow I wander,
enticed, I’m seduced by your flashing face on the mirage,
my broken heart is scattered as debris in your swathe.
I don’t know where I should be going to get belonged,
but try to sense the lure of oasis in your eluding love.
I crumble into drifting dust in the desolate wasteland,
and blow away to obscure horizon in the desert storm.
From the tree of yearning that grew in despondency,
I’m now dislodged and meander as a withered leaf,
rustle with the tormenting tune of melancholic music,
on its journey of despair to the realm of isolation void.
Under the sweltering sun burning the façade of desire,
as I lumber worn out across the dunes of deprivation
with shifting sands of time designing myriad of illusion,
in the fiery flicker of your eyes I see my kryptonite.
September 23, 2021
Contest : Your Kryptonite
Sponsor : Anthony Biaanco
THE RETURN OF DREAMS
Clumpy clouds drifted in smoky sky from hazy horizon
You saw the rippling reflection in your marooned mind
Turned into a wasteland where you wandered forlorn
Memory lost in the green meadow you’d left behind.
The sky fell with dripping clouds on drenched dream
You were soaked in cold gloom of desolate shower
Molten agony surged in your sad eyes in a stream
In swelling storm of dark night you searched a shelter.
The dawn gave you warm touch of the rising sun
When I held you close in my yearning embrace
Your unclouded eyes saw the grey sky turn auburn
Draped in sunshine new colors flashed on your face.
After storm you’ve reached the edge of wasteland
For you to reach horizon into a green pasture it’ll turn
We’ll walk on the garden path, you’ll hold my hand
In my eyes you’ll see your distanced dreams return.
February 19, 2018.
9/27/12
What I sensed was not just in the mind
Deep inside I didn’t want to believe my heart
For what I now believe is inexorably unavoidable
Into a crunch of instilled friction—silence is abhorred
Everyone feels the deceit around them—all feel ignored
In a wasteland of all that is horrid
The emotions remain in the containment of barren soul
Never was the feeling displayed so deeply
No one knew I had not conquered completely
Nothing has been won, for nothing was fought
So leave this wretched nothing to rot
I killed everything, for everything is gone
Now all I have left is close to none
And why must I live in this world anymore
Where all I have done is tatter and tear?
I am a false light and you are illuminated
By a darkened mind and an aura bright
Cradled in lies I rock about silently
Knowing you are faltering—fighting blindly
I don’t deserve any happiness—I deserve to die
I can’t keep dropping things here—I cannot feed the lie!
Their stings will end all
And I will be the last to fall
Alone
Neither with the weak or strong
You deserve to be happy
And I deserve the worse torture imaginable
I deserve your pain
And every last sting
I sensed you were left empty
In my false lights of nothingness
And can you guess what I did?
Nothing
I am the coward
I am the Nobody
And I’m not degrading—I’m fading
It is your very right to hate me
it is your very right to be angry
But you do not deserve to be torn, burned, and rotting
Because of my cold, silent broading
Never saw it coming
A false hero
A coward—a zero
You don’t need this
You don’t deserve. . .
Nothing.