Long Wreck Poems

Long Wreck Poems. Below are the most popular long Wreck by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wreck poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member War and Children

I tell a tale of younger days
When I was just a kid
I went to school in war time
As many others did

We would collect the shrapnel
From the big guns overnight
Most shells missed their target
But would still cause aircrews fright

Maybe on our way to school
A house a smoking wreck
We were not allowed to close
To see we'd crane our neck

The bombers came in waves at night
We didn't get much sleep
Scant room inside that concrete box
Jammed like a mob of sheep

The all clear goes it's back to bed
And then to rise again
The German aircraft overhead
And down the bombs would rain

I lived in Highbury at the time
Where guns fired to the sky
Both sides tried to kill or maim
I often wondered why

Even now I'm older
I still don't understand
Why humans are so agro
And can't live hand in hand

Is it just the Makers way
To make our numbers fall
We have no other predators
It really is our call

I hope that when I've left this earth
Intelligence will reign
We will control our populations
And not need war again

There will be no little children
With gas mask in a pack
See such death and destruction
On their way to school and back
Form: Ballad


You Can'T Be a Good Person, Part Ii

...I see people who celebrate
power only for its own sake,
who see tradition not as wisdom,
but just as something they should break,
who strip stories off all their heart,
replace that heart with talking points,
and when faced with other ideas
they throw a tantrum, wreck the joint.
Some expose their own families
for having their own point of view,
they hate your faith, but speak of theirs
and they’ll sick the hate mobs on you.
They’ll riot and burn down cities,
all while claiming it’s justified,
then act appalled when the same’s done
by the folks on the other side.
They’ll say they're ‘fighting racism’
with a segregated safe space,
then claim your skin is ‘identity,’
and to deny this means you ‘hate.’
They’ll protect any perversion,
no matter how sick or vile,
and hide their rich friends from the news
when shown to be pedophiles.
They’ll kill sixty million unborn,
celebrate the great evil done,
you can’t really be a leftist
and still remain a good person.

These things have become mutually exclusive.
Form: Rhyme

Driving On the Left

(This is a fictional poem)

While visiting England, I had to get used to driving on the left side of the highway.
I accidentally drove on the left when I returned to the USA.
I had a wreck and I almost totaled a limousine.
When I saw that the owner was a woman, I thought I'd get off easy but she was 
very mean.
She had sharp fingernails and she gouged them into my gut.
Then she took a rusty pair of tweezers and tore off my nuts.
She smashed my head on the asphalt about seven or eight times.
I'm in so much pain that I'm having trouble making this poem rhyme.
Compassion wasn't something that this woman showed.
If you and this lady are ever on the same highway, you'd better drive on the right 
side of the road.
Form:

Premium Member The Wind

The wind dances across the land
with a sweep of gods blessed hand, 
as mother nature breathes in deep
and the trees and plants no longer sleep.
The forest’s majestic harmony
dances with the wind effortlessly, 
as autumn leaves do swirl around
to the melody of a swishing sound. 
Seas are raised to align their beat
to the winds pulse they’re compelled to meet.
This natural force magically appears
thankfully not to augment our fears.
Yet beware and be on your guard
should god decide to blow too hard, 
for the wind can muster and truly wreck;
it’s a sacred reminder to keep us in check.
Form: Rhyme

Captain Robert Cornage 2003

Captain Robert Carnage sailed away on a leaking  
ship called the Chesapeake Bay
A tattered crew sailed at his side,
a fickle crew on a dead man’s ride.
Ragged sails pussed a seafaring wreck 
cracking and creaking on a reeling deck
sailing out on a sea of shame;
The Pirate Captain, he’s the blame.
A wicked captain with a wicked heart,
made um walk the plank to play their part.
To curse his deads gave him the dreads,
those that did would wake up dead.
He sent many a sailor down to the deep,
straight to the bottom from a storm tossed heap.
Then came the day when the tide would turn
and crew of bony sailors with a fish to burn,
sent a wicked hearted captain over in the drink, 
Straight to the bottom from a stormed tossed heap
Form: Rhyme


The Bubbleburst

in the dark 
waiting for you
wondering if you
will ever come home

i admit i am a wreck 
without you
i admit i feel as if i am
in debt without you
i admit i lack any type
of smooth concept
without you

no light can contain me
all light feels humid and 
sticky
no light feels safe to me
or my being as a whole

in the dark
i can think
about you 
in all phases,
in all colors,
in all movements,
in all ways

i pray that you will
soon return
i wish i could go back
so my icy words could
burn
i want so much right now
to place myself in an urn
you can pour acid on my ashes
and just churn churn churn

in the darkness of light
in the light of darkness
i just miss you....i...just
....miss....you....
© Marty King  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Ethereal Heat

An ethereal light rays my neck.
Falling autumn leaves irritate my stomach. 
My heart skips a beat when I view them. 
The billowy clouds are covering my tones.
There is dust on my lips.
With my hands, I cover my eyes. 
The birds were on top of the potted plants.
I shut my eyes to soothe the storm. 
The sun's warmth fills my heart. 
Time moves as delicately as a rose petal.
Going away gradually and inexorably.

An ethereal light rays my neck. 
A single book on a single bed. 
Tonight wouldn't be as halcyon without you. 
Her sorrow is harsher than the falling leaves. 
She cried elysian and sad birthday tears. 
Through my gaze, I notice birds soaring skyward. 
Time halts when there is no light. 
I kept my eyes closed to sustain the storm. 
The sun's warmth fills my heart. 
Carrying awful loads increases lamppost wreck risk. 
The old coffee shop is hidden behind a dark door.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.

One Heck of a Trek

7/29/18





All over the road, about to wreck
One of many causes for yet another death


Too many chickens giving each other pecks
They just look and rubberneck


Person overboard, from falling over the deck
Luckily they had on a life vest


No offense
I don't want to sit around and work behind a desk


Far from over yet
It's been one heck of a trek

I currently work at a vet
Helping take care of people's pets
With care and respect

Putting forth my best
Situations being assessed
During the quest
Making progress
Taking continual steps
Striving towards success
And nothing less
In order for it to manifest

Otherwise there'll be regrets
Like all the beer I buy and drink at my own expense
Knowing it can have harmful long-term effects

Taking occasional time to reflect
Great and not very well is how it went

I wasn't making a dent
Until my intent
Went to the furthest extent
And was one hundred and ten percent
I got more than I ever dreamt


Near and far from items made with hemp
On days and nights with a drop or rise in temp


Such a f***ing mess
What the corrupt have been doing is grotesque

I'm not going to repent
Or lament

Occasionally I disconnect
From the internet

Took off and left
Went camping, pitched a tent
Then took a rest
Somewhere out West

For time I'm pressed
I got to jet
From the dirt back to cement

Taking care of business, and running through a check
Zero time to focus on petty things, no bigger than a speck

Yes
I confess
I'm lonely, I guess

Now let's
See what happens next

God bless
When my time comes, in peace I'll rest

By: Dalton Ogletree
Form: Rhyme

What Is Love?

What is love?

love is osmosis
something absorbed

it creeps up on you
right through your pores

it cant be avoided
unless there is no contact

it generates heat... and a yearning for contract

Love has moved mountains
love has dug depths

Love can pull you into a emotional wreck

A spiral up... a spiral down
the elevator underground

Love knows no bounds
it knows no time
it continues on
without reason or rhyme

it can take you to the depths of your very soul
and cradle you in comfort, be your end goal

For Stephen Chef4u1000 ... what is love (C) Artimus  Susan Manley 12/9/2009


How do you turn it off? that was your question I know.. I haven't a clue... I am just a Bard.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Sonya

What’s a lovely girl like you doing in a dump like this.
I own it.
That course I took is working well.
Was that the diplomatic course.
It was, have you been on it.
Have I asked you any stupid questions.
Not yet, but give it time.
Ask me another question.
What’s your name.
Sonya.
You’re kidding, did your parents not like you.
Did you actually attend that course?
Well, i sort of started the online application, but this **** site popped up, and I got distracted.
Did anything else pop up.
That’s quite witty, Sonya.
It wasn’t meant to be. I was meaning, did any religious sites pop up.
Well, they do say God works in mysterious ways. So I’m thinking he came through as busty Bertha from Berlin.
Are you a bit rusty chatting up women?
Well, I have just come out of a long term relationship.
Sorry to hear that, how long were you together.
A week.
Wish I hadn’t asked now. Was that a full week.
Well, a week is a week.
Not necessarily, it might have been Saturday, Sunday.
I suppose so.
So was it.
No, it was Wednesday, Saturday.
So technically it was four days.
If you want to be pedantic about it.
What about your relationship before that.
Eight days.
What’s your longest relationship.
Three weeks.
That must have seemed like a marriage to you.
Actually, my wife died tragically.
I’m really sorry, that was insensitive of me.
Only kidding, Sonya, she ran off with the window cleaner. The windows have never recovered.
My God, you’re a train wreck.
You want to be on that train, don’t you, Sonya.
I do, I actually want to go out with you. Why the hell do I want to go out with you.
Well Sonya, if you don’t go out with me. Then one fine day you’ll marry this boring guy, and I’ll be at the back of your mind.
But in my mind, I’ve already dumped you.
Not necessarily Sonya, this could be a match made in heaven.
It won't be, I’ve already known you five minutes, and already you’re doing my head in.
Well that is a sort of relationship, is it not.
I suppose so. I don’t even know your name.
It’s Paul.
Paul, did your parents not like you.
Do you see what you did there, Sonya?
OMG, I’ve become you, how the hell did that happen.
I’m not sure Sonya, maybe we shouldn’t go out together.
No, we must, it’s like I need to go out with you for my sanity’s sake.
Okay Sonya, pick you up at eight tomorrow night...
© Paul Bell  Create an image from this poem.

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