Short Convulsed Poems
Short Convulsed Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Convulsed by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Convulsed by length and keyword.
Instead of the phrase, “brain freeze” at times we avow
Blurted out, “freezer burn” pointing between my brows
Wife Cathie took a fit
Convulsed quite a bit
Finally got control before the neighbours she aroused
© Jack Ellison 2015
give me your aorta ~ and in exchange i will give you a nice pulse
said the kidney bean to a cabbage heart ~ as it openly convulsed
but the black eyed peas protested violently ~ acting with impulse
of course i needed a leek pretty bad ~ and suddenly felt repulsed
Swirling thought forms, by heart impulsed
Merely nurtured in brain
Contortions leaving soul convulsed
Needless energy drain
Thought but an instrument
Rest it and be content
Within the bliss current
Onslaught in swarms
Swirling thought forms
27-February-2022
Quietus
Till our sun falls from the sky
The weather was frigid or she was,
reminiscing daydreams convulsed May.
Gray Dodge Omni parents backyard,
baseball players in a hotel room.
Graduate weed university age 16,
Stoned in the coffee shop,
high at the state speech tournament,
Ginsberg foggy and oblique,
country music radios.
“Till the sun falls from the sky”
Either the weather was frigid or she was,
reminiscing daydreams convulsed May.
Gray Dodge Omni parents backyard,
baseball players in a hotel room.
Graduate weed university age 16,
Stoned in the coffee shop,
high at the state oral interpretation tournament,
Ginsberg foggy and oblique,
country music radios.
A comma pauses coma in mid air,
released but not delivered is its serve
but in truth we have nothing to declare,
so life continues with gusto and verve,
even though numb becomes our mental nerve.
It may appear that our form has convulsed
but there’s no vibration to be repulsed,
so outcome any we remain tranquil,
accepting our fate as has been impulsed,
for with ego exhumed, we have no will.
MIDNIGHT BLACK
No, I’m not -A racist of sorts, I mean
But detest I do, the black of midnight scene
Purple ,that smirk’d a wicked sheen,
groped, wiggled, with cold fingers keen.
Palled by a convulsed face wretched in pain
viscous slime ,red on bruised mane
Daggers sculpted life off, like insane
Lifeless limbs sprawled out in sunken lane.
Sharp silver deep in thick flesh lame
Ants and moths eager to claim…
Did vicious black mouth my name?
Yes, detest I do, the midnight’s game.
did they say I was,
high and bad strung,
muscular convulsions were going awry,
it was deep inside,
skin was yet plain and clean,
they said it would have,
rashes before anything could relax,
and turn red and would also get strung,
mind also probably was convulsed,
it did not know that it too was strung,
would it be fatal,
for now,
or if it happened again and again,
why did I get strung,
no I cannot think,
as mind is strung,
and gets more so,
if I think how I got strung.