Short Catacombs Poems
Short Catacombs Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Catacombs by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Catacombs by length and keyword.
The cadaver of an emperor
Lying in wait at the bottom of the catacombs
He is halcyonily waiting
Not for bandits but for Life
Form:
Thinking between the shutters of thoughts
into the aphotic abyss of the soul
Deep within the catacombs
Grows a world of memories and dreams
As winter
yields to spring
seeds wrinkled in time
join dormant flower bulbs
seeking sheltering dwellings
in purgatory catacombs of earth
and await the labor of nature’s rebirth.
Incarcerated soul in ribcage of slaughtered fate
Obsessive saw penetrates secret catacombs of meltdowns
Poetic seascape showing radiations of a human skull -
A cranial Kabuki Mask spreads uncertainty over the Pacific...
you put your silks and satins
in me, a darkened abattoir
I see your pain, a summer crisis
staring sometimes for minutes
it's a love hate relationship
it's a love hate hall of mirrors
lost in dirty bone catacombs
I wait for your return
Wind weathered dream severed
eyes hollow stare blankly out
rough seas washed away hopes
hardened hearts die
fragile souls cry
hastily built walls
stones tumble
broken in a blackened sky
masses filter the catacombs
steeple's raise notice
dropping down suddenly
Conscience is a mirror
If you disobey it
If you abuse it
If you overload it
If you ignore it
If you torture it
If you cheat it
If you lie to it
if you intoxicate it
You’ll float off-shore of life
And perish like deep water fish
Alone or with the world
You’ll go to catacombs
The consumate sleuth Sherlock Holmes
Hardly lacking the wit chromosomes
With the faintest of clues
To bemuse and confuse
Cracked crimes in the Welsh catacombs
AP: Honorable Mention 2023
Submitted on January 27, 2019 for contest LIMERICK 3 sponsored by JOSEPH MAY - RANKED 2ND
Being like the cold,
and restless deep blue sea, yet
inside, beneath the
waves I buried my
fire down in the garnet
red catacombs of
forgotten sea gods,
waiting for the flickering
emotions; these wan,
walking shadows to
come alive and thus let that
volcano erupt at last.
There exists no place
Outside the Lord's grip -
From the outposts of space
To the eclipse of a pit -
He's never far away
And even more so -
He's on the war field
In the foxholes -
In the nursing ward
And in the catacombs.
Where else should He be
But with the wounded
In body and spirit, prithee?
As two are wed -
Jesus - be ever with me.
Eerie voices underground
strangely invite
yet they are nowhere to be found.
Broken bones, broken souls
Lamenting memories
Lost in the catacombs.
Dark elegies written on walls,
Unheard songs that were never recalled
The hymn of unfortunate souls.
The truth will likely be hidden
in the dark alleys where questions remain unanswered
Now, Then...Forever
LeiStrauss2020
FANTASY
I dreamt of magic, crystals and potions
Millions upon millions upon millions of minions
Plenty of artifacts, many creations
Dungeons and dragons, abyss, oblivion
All those catacombs, they call civilization
No nations, just rations, epics and sermons
Gods and demons that live on donations
Horses, bards and whores and all them corpses
Sticky fingers up their @$$3$
TO A FORGOTTEN SUICIDE NOTE...
On the gallows o time my soul
Hung in despair.
Faith released its terrible swift sword;
Least my thoughts forgot.
Least my thoughts forgot the footprints
You walked
To be free of the mystified feelings locked
In catacombs of dreams
Stroking spiraling smoke to blurred visions
Gone stale like yesterday's day.
Time passes and grief remains dissatisfied.
not through the tongue and its wind-spray
or the booming chest
but through broken wings
whispers of ruined things
crushed
into a wordless tongue
here is a sparrow corpse
this is his poetry
catacombs of grubs
a wing bent stiffly up
the other
pounded into utterance
spirit riddled by flesh
blown through
a blare of broken lungs
not salted
on the suds of speech
but in the ruined breath
of a shattered prayer
The truth
has to buried
down here somewhere.
I enter cannily
prepared for
a long slow journey.
The light of my candle
flickers as if
it can fail.
It is through
the basement of my old house
that it opens.
Sub-floors and
catacombs never explored
behind a door of wooden slats I could nearly remember,
as if the truth
were hidden in the realm
of devils.
I walk in alone
peering at the cells of my brain
amazed at how huge I am.
not through the tongue and its wind-spray
or the booming chest
but a soul moved by broken wings,
the whispers of ruined things
crushed by a cosmic tongue
here is a sparrow corpse
this is his poetry
catacombs of grubs
a wing bent stiffly up
the other
pounded into utterance
Rumi's spirit is riddled by flesh
it is blown through
the blare of broken lungs
not salted
on the suds of pious speech
but in the ruined breath
of sky shattering prayers
Below indigenous herds of species’
Soft stampeded tramplings,
Profound caves water rivers underground.
Roots grow their nether forests
Down to a shadow fathom depth of earth.
Tendrils leaf out only tuber leaves of dirt.
Flooded backs of charcoal catacombs
Snake like water moccasins through
Aquifers to rise disguised as springs and wells.
Here there is a bargeman who
For pennies holding eyelids down
Will help you to forget
Vaguely chambered
Urges of the heart.