Short Consciences Poems
Short Consciences Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Consciences by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Consciences by length and keyword.
Lost consciences are passing the gates to divide the Kafkaesque instincts of freedom.
Valeria Iliadou
"One Amazing Line"
one river ripple
coincidal consciences
Light lens shape of sense
physical death opens doors
leave excess baggage Earthside
people have stopped laughing
and this is no rumour,
children is Somalia sufferes from scurvy
what a sad scene
has anyone seen
these countless
deaths of dreams,
dead consciences
of politicians
this dying Afrika
its dead hope.
people have stopped laughing
and this is no rumour,
children is Somalia sufferes from scurvy
what a sad scene
has anyone seen
these countless
deaths of dreams,
dead consciences
of politicians
this dying Afrika
its dead hope.
Tis the season of high expectation
And disappointing outcomes
Of obligations
And guilty consciences
Tis the season of cellulite
And failed diets
Of sinking self esteem
And blotchy faces
Tis the season of lighter pockets
And heavier souls
Ask and you shall receive
Touched by terrorism
T ortured, traumatized touched by terrorism
O utrageous onslaughts obliterate innocence
U nprecedented Ultra-extremist atrocities
C auterized consciences create cataclysm
H emorrhaging humanity hopelessly held hostage.
John Derek Hamilton
June 27,2017
We love when where hurt
We burn with out a sound
So when lights give way to the dark
Don't run away
We love when the rain calls
When the nights moan
And time shatters into the ebisk of self consciences
Shattered into pieces and fractions of fractured screams
That echoes through the past, waking the regret we've shunned
And when it comes
Shocked are we
To find a stranger in the pond
Forced in to a submission
"But when?"
On the side of a path branching off from the road
expectations of glorious guilt mount
makeshift trenches housing truants, anxiously counting
the seconds 'til school officers call off the hunt...
Free at last at 9:30 to pursue puerile passions
constructing lean-tos in trees, small campsites nearby
They'd burn down the bush in a heartbeat if only
their consciences would forget how to sigh
Valentine! Oh Valentine!
I search for you in the vile valley.
Vultures wing low, brushing dark clouds.
Life snaps, mowed down at dawn.
Blood courses, cakes in the streets,
Wafting stench of death and decay.
Consciences are crusted by ceaseless
Strife that howls dirges over the air.
The world is agog, celebrating love;
Yet no graduation, no valedictorian
In the school of Valentine!
© 2016
By Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi
Now stand still and take the oath
define your choices by their trace
as this is the one and final case.
Fears are melting with confusion
a Kafkaesque pursuit for redemption
finding the end will be the exception.
''Guilty as charged''! Voices crawl
a door is thumped and people brawl
a Kafkaesque sharing of fortunes.
Lost consciences are passing the gates
where flaming light still awaits
to divide the Kafkaesque instincts of freedom.
Form:
Sleep
Sleep in peace.
Forever and ever.
Sleep without dreams.
Sleep without fears.
Sleep until time is no longer a care.
Get numb.
Lose consciences.
Make sure there is no light.
Nor where I can watch the stars at night.
Sleep
Sleep in peace.
Forever and ever.
Sleep with no sense of feeling.
Feel no heat.
Feel no cold.
Sleep as Sleeping Beauty sleeps.
Sleep all alone.
Sleep untouched.
Sleep unknowing.
Sleep
Sleep in peace.
Forever and ever.
Hearing subversive, oft-hand remark,
Callously spreading rumor on a lark.
Silhouette of angst o'er mind parks.
Deceitful soul's vast refuge a bulwark,
keeping mind's sentient eye in the dark,
Still short-sighted vision veils a quark,
But to dry, subliminal tinder won't hark.
Fueled consciences' flint strikes spark,
Fanning winds o'er tender psyche arc.
Singeing flame peels soul's, dense bark;
Contrasting light to mind painfully stark
quark: elementary particles having electric charges
So, you had a childhood.
That doesn't make you special,
I had one too.
You consume the trauma,
regurgitate it
so others can say if we had known
we would have done something;
but they did know
and did nothing.
Now you make sure they squirm
as you stick hot needles
into their consciences,
let their guilt undo their platitudes,
and let me watch you torture;
let it cleanse me,
for I am your sister
and have eaten from the same bowl
of trauma as you.