Long Worn Poems
Long Worn Poems. Below are the most popular long Worn by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Worn poems by poem length and keyword.
Eyes, silent and soft, a whisper
Falling across so many hearts,
Breathing in affections, singing
Caresses, messages…
Yet filled with melancholy
Doubt and despair, darkness
In clouds of regret, without the
Sparkle of life they had once,
Long ago…
When he was young, filled with
Wonder and inspired…
By the brilliance of the sunrise,
The intimacy of a starry sky,
The music pulsing through the
Rainfall, and the delicate brush of kisses
Easy against a secret, liquid
Like laughter and flowing into
The seas, in colors bold and vibrant
Hues so alive they tremble,
Echoing wonder in hopeful sighs
Eyes, mournful and dejected,
Pain cutting through the heavens,
Abiding within the soul who knows
Even in the painted smile,
The brushed on eyes, the splattered
Dyes faded and worn, in tatters…
A coat that is never warm, but colder
Than the winter storm, like bitterness
Painful and burning through the
Heart who knows that it is the loss
Thrashing inside him, dimming the light
That once kindled his joy, his happiness
It is this cloud that hangs
Across his heart, obscuring hope
With a desperation…
That quiets the glimmers of a
Reflection, both graceful and accepting
The thought of yesterday’s gifts
The love that he lost, the truth he
Never seemed to grasp, the death of his
Bliss, pouring out into seas, oceans
Deep and dark – filled with fear
Dread that seems to settle
Inside his spirit, blending with his
Feelings, becoming a part of him,
So he can surf through the night,
Suffering and enduring the agonizing
Rags of his memories, fleeting
Through a mind tortured with angst
In tatters, Tatters can’t find his way out
From amid the punishment, the past
With its endless doubt, its persecution
And the labored tears that never
Do release him from the grief, the ache
Tatters, the clown, with his painted
On smile and funny garb,
Is just as dead inside as the child
He buried back before he became…
Tatters, the clown!
TATTERS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose
January 3, 2023
Pain and betrayal
It is so easy to say:
Time will heal all wounds
The soul and heart is empty
Do not ask me to go ahead
A worn out body, but still young
Can feel my blood fizz
but do not feel alive
Hope disappeared
Promises were broken
Tears
Yes, I know
Can no longer look you in the eye
I have failed
Do not deserve your consideration
I hate myself and my miserable life
One time I was real
Now a shadow of myself
Dishonest and a disgrace
Leave me alone
Give me money for my last needlestick
12.07.2013
A-L Andresen :)
(2nd place in the contest)
Worn words of a poet
are fragile pieces of a puzzle
misaligned, and tumbling onto the page
while their meanings awaken the senses
like curious, lost children
hiding, in noisy confusion
who have been separated at birth
yet have always continued to believe in each other.
They may acknowledge their common heritage
but only when discovered and reunited
by the poet's crafty pen
in a zealous deliberation
will they look up and search for approval
in the eyes of the reader
looking for recognition
looking for acceptance
becoming once again a family
living in harmony
just as they were always meant to be
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Carrie Richards 12/8/12 For Joe Maverick's Contest "Occlusion"
All day long all I do is shake my head
Over all that can and can't be said
That's okay but mind you never that
If it wasn't so sad perhaps then I could laugh
Insanity wears a worn out mask
With everybody being Politically Correct
With feelings now we're trying not to hurt
So bite your tongue before you blurt
Do you need more training down at work
With sensitivity being the latest word
Know what you can do and what you can't
With everybody being Politically Correct
Don't call someone by preference or nationality
It singles them out for all to see
And it could hurt their feelings very badly
And feelings should always be bad feely free
This is not a secret that should be kept
As everybody is Politically Correct
If you're out in a crowd and don't know what to do
Call up the P.C. Police and they'll explain it to you
Take their thoughts and chew them as food
So you don't come across as being rude
You don't want them all to say what the heck
As everybody is Politically Correct
So watch yourself when you open your mouth
Be careful with what comes pouring out
The world's an angry cat to this lowly mouse
My hope is you never find that out
The common sense window is now closed on all bets
As everybody is Politically correct
Grumpy, griping all the time,
Out of work without a dime.
Seen around the town a lot.
They call him Sir Frowns A Lot.
Used to work for the city,
Paid off, laid off, what a pity.
Caused his wife to have a stroke,
Lost his house when he went broke.
Stands in line for unemployment,
Living life without enjoyment.
Sleeping in a cardboard box,
Worn out shoes and dirty sox.
Food banks help to feed his hunger,
Dreams of days when he was younger.
But now he never ever smiles,
Just walks the streets for miles and miles.
Cursing life and shouting loud,
Mumbles, rumbles at the crowd.
They won't look him in the eye,
They just laugh and pass him by.
Until the day he found a gun,
He had enough and just for fun;
Devised a plan to help the needy,
By taking all from those so greedy.
Now robs the rich to feed the poor,
He'll soon be knocking at their door.
Just like the Knights of Camelot,
No longer called Sir Frowns A Lot.
A nobler theme needs more sublime art
In order to its honorable nuances impart;
And thus may famous muses of niftier writ
More tastefully craft this little lyrical script.
And if generous gods of superior rhyme there be,
Who with pure ease mellifluous tunes compose,
Then may such these tottering lines indite with me
And delve deep where rarest musical gems repose.
Where do love’s purest pearls lie
Beneath this bland ancient sky;
Where hug and kiss their warmest
Elusive touch pulsate at its best?
Truth is maimed and denied its form
And falsehood has become the norm;
Who knows any place she still thrives
Wholly unsevered by knavish knives?
And hope no longer blossoms
As it did in sweeter days of yore,
Now she’s worn out to the bottoms
And angst and doubt rule to the core.
And peace completely extinct is:
Chaos and strife now carry the day
And gallivant about in their hubris,
As mourning sufferers tearfully pray.
Which Way, Nigeria?
(Inspired by Sonny Okosuns)
A critical crossroads beneath the heavy sky,
Where promises falter and the weary wonder why.
Weighed down by the hardship of an economic strain,
A nation of millions echoing the same deep pain.
The currency weakens, the cost of living climbs high,
While a vast, restless majority watches hope pass by.
Over ninety-two percent say we tread the wrong track,
Feeling the weight of a country moving on wrong track.
Trust has worn thin in the halls of command,
As shadows of fear stretch across our green land.
From the terror of kidnappings that break the quiet night,
To the conflicts and insurgencies that dim the future's light.
The youth look away to a distant, foreign shore,
The "Japa" wave rising as they walk out the door.
Our doctors and dreamers, our skilled and our bright,
Seeking a sunrise in the middle of our night.
Yet the road lies ahead if we dare to rebuild,
To see the true promise of our country fulfilled.
Break down the corruption that eats at the core,
And rely on the strength of our oil fields no more.
Plant seeds in the soil, let production awake,
For the sake of the choices we now have to make.
With leaders held close to the light of the truth,
We can salvage the horizon for the sake of our youth.
In the words and honour of legendary Sunny Okosun
"Many years of our independence, we still find it hard to start.
How long shall we be patient, till we reach the promised land?"
This, our unofficial anthem for socio-political critique of Nigeria unsung
I'm a man of many faces
I've carved out over time
I carry them around with me
In a leather bag strapped to my side
Usually I'll leave it up to others
How it is they set the mood
The way we interact
To what face it is I choose
I have a face I use for concern
One I have that looks deep in thought
I'm still working on the one that looks like it's in love
But I'm not sure I'll use it a lot
I've got one that's fairly happy
It's taken years to carve it out
Five different ones in stages of sadness
Two that are riddled with doubt
I hold onto one that no longer fits me
I haven't worn in quite some time
It's the face that I was born with
The innocence of a child
One I've carved over and over
Cause I wear it out all the time
It's the one with the look of disbelief
When it gazes on the state of mankind
I have a face with which I greet strangers
One I use with friends
Also a face that says I'm sorry
If I need to make amends
But there is one I don't carry with me
The face I leave at home
For when I lock my door at night
It's the face I call alone...
Her kisses were glacial...honest
she devoured every star on which she rode.
At times, amber spirits would peal the veneer
expose the pulp of her mind so scarred.
One night the shine sprinted from her grasp,
living dullened that wild horse stride.
She curled up in my heart palm,
Wilted and worn-like a scorched flower.
Slashed by the lightning streaks of life...
Told me she was frightened of it all.
At times she wished to be weak, ( to sow strength?)
To be legless, aimless( to polish the stride of her wandering being?)
Just before her end she evolved back into a girl
Her heart became a cloud high paper wall,
On which everyone scribbled their hate...
Good enough to be used but not good enough to be loved.
Nobody loved her like I did. Nobody.
without condition
without restrictions
I treated her like a glass butterfly
built a path of flowers.
She shattered under the weight of life.
She was a powerhouse and weakness defined
a rainbow of disease
buckled
but
complete...in this brevity called her life.
R.I.P
K.P
The Dragon Riders Saga I
Dragon and rider were weary from the fight
They had watched so many of their kind die this night
The wounds of battle go deep as are their woes
Scars upon their bodies, their bleeding soul knows
So long had they trained to serve and to protect
They were more than friends having learned mutual respect
The rider without family or a home he had ever known
Dragon riders had raised him until he was grown
The pain shown on his face and now his Dragon grieves
An arrow had pierced his armor, twas dipped in hemlock leaves
The Dragon knew he must take his rider far from the battle sight
Ever deep into the forest he searched through the night
The poison gave the rider such fevered dreams
Of many outcomes as came in his mournful screams
In his delirium the rider didn't notice the approaching light
Or the coming of the fairy princess riding her unicorn of white
Her elven beauty pure as sunshine and her gaze cold as night
Kneeling and speaking elvish she passed to him visions of their plight
When he awoke the fever by elven magic had finally been out worn
With the quest he had been given the destiny of prophecy had been born
By elven magic's strength he raised himself from the forest floor
An ancient rune inscribed sword in his hand giving him more power than before
His thoughts jumbled he wondered about seeing the unicorn and the elf
But now he needed his Dragon to deliver the magic imparted to himself