Long Yanked Poems
Long Yanked Poems. Below are the most popular long Yanked by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Yanked poems by poem length and keyword.
Just when things were looking up,
When the sun started to shine once more,
The floor is yanked from underneath my feet,
And I’m shaken to my very core.
I thought I climbed to the top of the hill,
Thought I’d finally finished the race,
But nothing ever goes as planned,
Just like that, life smacked me in the face.
I told myself life would turn out the way I wanted,
But life always seems to have other plans,
I was the one controlling my life,
But just like that, it’s out of my hands.
I thought I finally found my people,
The ones who I could call my friend,
My obliterated heart started to heal,
And just like that, it’s broken again.
God is almighty, Why am I shy?
Is it because I refuse to get high?
used to pretend and lie with the devil
Until he tricked and mixed me up
I yell at him to shut up
He tells me to give up
Used to with I would just die
Constantly asking why
I'm high on Gods love
He never pushed or shoved
The devil never loved me
He only wanted to consume
I'm in tune with my heavenly dreams
Used to sit in the corner and scream
It was my own impending doom and suffering
The devil was inside my room
But now i'm refreshed by the loom
Repressing thoughts 24 hours around the clock
God yanked me out of the shock
Skitzo the voices tell me lies
Got to the point where I would rock
Feeling like I was going to rot
Ive said a lot but it has a message
Gods soul stares into my eyes
Now I cannot deny its my time to fly
and the devil is nothing more than a lie
I’m not sure what happens after this
but I don’t think it’s anything grand.
I don’t think we meet again,
if we ever even make it.
And if we do,
would you still want to?
I’ve worn this version of me out,
and I don’t know what else I’ve got.
I remember the first time
I realized I was in the world:
four years old when I came online,
became conscious I was alive
mid-plunge—
someone had shoved me
into the deep end of the public pool.
It was nothing cruel, just kid logic.
But the water didn’t care
how innocent the moment was.
Cold punched me clean through
the inside of my skull and everything lit up:
channels fine-tuned into something
I hadn’t known was broadcasting.
I wasn’t breathing,
but I was Awake,
and when someone yanked me up
by half an arm and a handful of hair,
when the air hit my face again,
when I realized other people
were there,
chlorine,
a sky—
it felt like heaven for a minute,
or at least how I'd later
hear it described.
I no longer believe in that,
not really,
not in the after kind.
But that moment sticks—
footsteps in wet cement,
part of me
that knew I’d been somewhere
and wasn’t anymore.
There are no shape walls
to bridle one's emotions
creativity is properly ventilated
unbound by meter or syllable count
embracing nakedness
yanked naked in its virginity
The binding belt of chastity
given over to lyrical lovers
Sleeping quietly in the meadows
a pristine area free of squatters
fighting for their rights
with sonnet-crafted homes
and hamlets defined by literature.
Straying away from the norm
acolytes watch as castles are built,
that worships orderly expression
poetic masterpieces,
safeguarded and preserved at all times
metaphors align into a specific subset
pictures look like works of art,
there is a distinct realm
for those unfit to fly in their confines.
Outside of the norm
is a vast nebulous
growing quill flowers from seeds sown
the power of smell to evoke memories,
which one's brain may elect to ignore
when settling at a location of a specific form
is what one's words must imply.
On this trip, there are no rules,
only that burning desire inside
strive to harass the page,
fire getting into the core
from telling someone a mystery,
till the key bares the chest
where other ideas demand rebirth.
1st Place Contest Winner
Written: August 28, 2022
Free Verse - Old Or New Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
5th Place Contest Winner
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Written for Andrea Dietrich, a remarkable, talented human and sincere, caring friend
I’ve never even met her, we’ve never shared space,
Yet I continuously, tenderly, view her face.
She woke one same ole’ morn, on her same ole’ street
To retire that night with terror lying under her sheets.
She’s always been conscientious, responsible and prepared,
But she’s never dealt with this brand of scared.
It isn’t that bad news had never before appeared,
It just hadn’t carried such fierce shades as it neared.
I feel her frightened ache tremble and I silently shake.
My faith demands I believe He did not cruelly forsake
One who never selfishly sought her own delight
Over her commitments to living proper and right.
It must feel surreal to her that the world is the same
When her life’s been yanked, injured and maimed.
Everything must surely seem foreign and strange
As she struggles through fears web just to maintain.
Rudely, she was handed a nightmare wrapped in unfair
That I desperately wish my emotional sum could repair.
My pulse quickened
As tears streamed down my face
I felt my soul race
Notes rising from discarded bits
Yanked out of plastic bags
from decaying pits
Skin sun baked and bleeding splits
Garbage, hand formed into instruments
So that these deaf ears might trace
The spectacle of true dignity
that poverty can't erase
Theirs is a world far removed
from manicured lawns and lace
Strings and frets
Oil cans and pipes
Found amongst the baby wipes
by people painted in scarlet stripes
By society treated like a disease
Some how finding music
from coins cans and keys
Music resonates
From a place with few trees
Pouring forth from polluted streams
People like these
sort out opportunities
that no one else
would ever think to seize
There, a young girl
takes a tin violin in hand
She's transported to a magical land
White beaches and sand
Now symphonic dreams
are hers to command
Each chord played
feels like possibility
A fret held bridge
to a different reality
She kisses a star
Transcends their invisibility
Fruit tins and bent cookie sheets
An X-ray film to create a drum beat
People from around the world
Rise to their feet
Still the ones at home
Don't have enough to eat
Let us practice compassion
Repeat, repeat!
Rise from our seat
Think beyond privilege
In our land of the elite
The ones called "Garbage Pickers"
the low of the low
Moving in harmony quick and slow
What we hear and see
Will it cause our hearts grow?
Do we feel life's rhythm and flow?
For, from what others have discarded
they have something to show
Winds of change are coming
Waters rising
Watch listen and see
where the notes of change blow!
Dedicated to the people of Paraguay who work in the Garbage Dump of Cateura.
Check out the documentary "Landfill Harmonic".
Not entered in any contest.
Written March 9th 2016
Words cannot express how I feel inside.
My bleeding heart, my love, cannot find rest.
Have not ceased crying since the day you died.
It feels like my heart was yanked from my chest.
I never hurt before to this degree.
Happiness depleted, misery reigns.
Emotions capsized like ships on the sea.
Senses stimulated – then comes the pain.
Every single day, I think of you.
Gone, but your memory is here to stay.
I feel you, hear you – and I smell you too.
When I gaze at photos, I’m swept away…
I often think about the good old days,
Moments spent with my best friend.
Our devotion, no one could ever dissuade.
Like a circle, our love, had no end...
I don't know if my heart will ever heal...
I miss you, but I have to face the facts,
No wish, no prayer, nor fervent appeal,
I utter will ever bring you back.
So I sit here with memories of you my love,
Fabulous reveries of a kismet match;
Transcending earth and the heavens above,
The perfect love that forever lasts...
One day my love, God, will bring us together again,
For our love is like the circle, it has no end!
Cityscape
The artist’s hand reshapes yesterday
In straight lines
Of hard edges -
Peaks of
Right angles perfected
Missing oblique or obtuse –
Claiming the horizon
In full frontal
Silhouette
Cut from ebony shades,
When daylight sinks into the shadows
And twilight goes down meeting midnight
One dimension pyramids,
Floors layered by steel reinforced
Triangulated honeycombs,
Octagonal rounds
Gather cotton clouds
Topping off their naked crowns,
Lofty spires
Scrape the midnight
To gather far flung stars
Flat rectangles with jute box tops
Soar with arches -
Lines leaping up and sliding down -
Squares low and squat,
Took up their space,
Yanked from the line,
Openings left
Like toothless
Grinning;
Concealed within the cityscape unblinking
The murmurings of urban sighs,
No rise and fall of breathing,
Foundation’s feet bound in stone
Swaying only when magnum cores
Tremble moving plates east to west, north to south;
Unseen
The doorway cradle songs
Of shivering dreams,
Desperation
Pacing
On the nineteenth floor
Fauna’s night perfume
Floating up behind dark floral gates
Of swirling iron
Grids of neighbors – blocks of neighborhoods -
Graphs of boulevards winding round,
Absent from the cityscape.
Inspirational verse – “When the lights go down in the city and the sun shines on the bay; do I want to be there in my city….I want to be there in my city.” Journey
I thought I saw Santa flying and landing right on my roof
Then someone said, it can’t be true, so I needed proof
He was there, I swear, then suddenly he went ‘poof’
Even my dog saw him as she ran to the window, woof!
All I could see when I looked then, was a red dot in the sky
Someone asked, what was in my egg nog, I asked why?
Because that night, it wasn’t Christmas time just yet
So then I replied, and made with them a kind of bet
I said, he was just scoping the area, he will be back
Sure enough on Christmas Eve, he returned with a sack
He was standing right in the middle of the town square
They even yanked on his beard assuming fake, he did wear
But it was real, just as he was, with all of his sweet care
Sharing cookies with cookie cutters and warm hot cocoa
While an angel in the night, hovered above in falling snow
Heidi Sands
12/3/17
Woody cologne caresses me, your fatherly comfort
Stirs corpsed compartments of stiff collar protector
Control and my frenetic force combine, triumphant
Curled in cream leather, exhaust drips peach nectar
Our lunching laughs echo in establishments of stature
Plate sized steak gorging has gregarious wine support
Irk of nostalgic nubile incessantly scratches my rapture
Emboldened blend makes mockery of standard thought
Furtive frowns from fellow diners behind glasses gossip
Solid gold arrogance asserts benefit blatantly displayed
Societal stable unharnessed, blurred in break out gallop
Crossing the line wins sustain disdain for lifestyles staid
Ocean boulevard show emits stadium raucous applause
Celebrated red car salatious, shouting salt can't catch us
Elite earnings erase enforced judgement, smudging laws
We cruise past calm cove, masts middle finger up status
Fresh blood Ferrari parks grumpy, subground clot cements
Your apartment arranged for everlasting afternoon lust fest
Ruptures my role of freewilled friend, raunch to commence
Aerobics of limber mayhem, loosened make-up, not just yet
Smug exhibits itself on you, bosom blooming, smile swollen
Why are you weird; response is, "Let's make a small detour"
Perhaps a chance to sunbathe bikini clad hasn't been stolen!
Side by side basking serves as a mismatched stamina cure!
Sixth floor nominate instead of eighth arouses sudden angst
Silver keys silence, you push them to my palm with a flourish
This mystery door surely won't submit, a magic rabbit yanked
Wave glint water pours in wall width windows, sun encouraged
"Enjoy, it's in your name," your announcement deep sea drowned
Overwhealmed by involuntary screams, my violent claws attached
Cling to your hull, oyster oppurtune splits old and new, pearl found
Levered apart, rough encasement heart slides out, gratitude hatched
27th Febuary 2026
rewritten by further reality
May 2020 was first version imagined