Long Cruelest Poems
Long Cruelest Poems. Below are the most popular long Cruelest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cruelest poems by poem length and keyword.
Cruelest thoughts overwhelm
beyond the patrol
beyond the drowning sunlight
firelight creeping up my back,
grab your camera and attack
a moment that doesn't hear
the glowing blue
I should have kept in a faerie jar
ajar is my mind,
hinges broken, hinges built
100 years ago, the repairman's dead
like the postcard I still cherish
oh it has arrived uninvited again, this pain
this favorite feeling flowers
when the spoken dagger
lathered
in poisonous affection
takes the habitual plunge
into pulsing core, and oh
she cannot feel the swirling madness fought
no, that is the worst of it all, she knows not of this
chest clutched, scream schooner, a whirlwind
through every room
each white convulsing
red cherries in time
after Euphrates dries
and Hyde's head screws back on.
I am fine. Everything smiles.
Oozing cryptically, cryptic cryptic don't let them know
that beyond a year ago,
Into slow void, I challenge Time,
I challenge
the non-existent;
I challenge
myself,
and discover...
Don't go back to the fireless rooms?
The fireless rooms
were never places.
The fireless rooms
were never avoidable.
Forlorn freedoms flung farthest
feasting from fear-falling
feint faithfully; fictitiously.
In a lone, innocent desire, the perfect jazz song is playing
it is her favorite song
her unavoidable song on every playlist
as a hallow briar floats by,
knows why
and where
and who I truly am,
knows the buried youth,
and the noxious adult of hap.
I am swinging again. He is swinging again.
That youth,
that whippersnapper.
That fool.
Going too fast. Too fast for his Truth to catch up.
Agony! Laugh at me!
Dig those heals in, heels into the ground, digging
into that old world
of a hosted carnival
that kept the best parts of our personalities. Kept the parts
everyone loved the most
at the top of that ferris wheel,
ecstasy eyes embracing the stars
that would later become supernovas inside
black fire death-in-life,
a death of slow pain would be lovely
masochist!
if only I could hold death as a moment,
death it and then command death
sic death upon evil
and witness true happiness
for the entire world.
Death...
and slow will be...
my descent once again...
Inebriation.
To Sleep. To Machination. Avoid the void...
A love for the forbidden fruit.
Return Of The Tyke
Tyke, tyke, tyke' they’d chant to bait the bairn.
But insult hurled at Yorkshire folk is water off a back.
Take it, use it, grind it through the crank
As fuel for the fire, grist to mill.
Man as boy the tyke unwraps his bike.
Ride a mile, another ten. No stopping, pumping into the blood.
Cycle, eat, drink. Eat, drink, cycle.
Life’s biggest problem, darkest mood, cured in the turn of a pedal.
Through God’s own country
A yellow jersey pulls a golden thread.
Up fell down dale, through Yorkshire’s warp and weft,
It’s cruelest contours purled,
A bright new yarn weaves into the fabric of the hills.
Past mill, past gate, past pit-head dead, history’s milestones marked.
The ride is metaphor, the towns tell out my story.
Otley, Ilkley, Asgarth, Hawes.
Mum at factory, Grandma, The Black Bull - still standing.
The first sip of warm beer.
Mallerstang, Fleet Moss, Tan Hill.
Simonstone, that teacher, my Dad, Wensleydale and Granddad Thompson.
The Scar, the Cove, the Stang – part of us in every crevice, crook and corner.
Muker, Reeth, Masham, over cattle-grid, up the switch-back,
Buttertubs - Buttertubs - Buttertubs.
Suck at the air, tramp on the pain, tyres spit rubber, spit grit.
It’s all about the climb. Locked in battle against the gradient.
She’s out to hurt us, here to make us suffer.
In sickening waves her sweet call comes to quit, to quit,
To quit this spiritual ascent.
Up ahead, on the tarmac one by one, the giants of the fells swing into sight.
Robinson ‘55, Hoban ’68, doff your cap to Tommy Simpson
And Beryl Burton, she showed the lads a clean pair of heels.
I close the gap and hear them urge: “We too were once like you.
Ordinary.”
My own story is forced out,
Spat through bleeding gums and panted breaths it comes
“I’ll catch you, catch you, catch you.”
In Oxenhope and through Cragg Vale
Spirit generations line the streets “Make us proud son, make us
proud.”
We race by in a flash. As lives lived, as lives past.
One evening,
When final stage is done and life turns back to dust,
Take us back to the mountain top. Pause a moment as the weather turns,
Then set us free in the teeth of a gale.
I’ll call them on, those that struggle through the sleet and hale, soft and
strong.
As I myself, one morning, was called.
© Ben Hodgson 2014
on a sultry day when there was nothing else to accomplish,
roaming around listlessly in my parents' house, stumbled at a little diary from my teenage years!
with a pretty picture of a rose bouquet on the cover!
my best friend, I thought I couldn't live without, but disappeared later in my life, got the diary for me -
located it among her father's office-materials,
and determined - it was a nice present for a book-worm girl whose only passion was papers!
although she was so thoughtful, it was a really tiny diary, I thought - not enough space to cover all my gripping thoughts!
my head was bursting with ideas - from appeasing my over-scrupulous math teacher’s tantrums, to secret plans of rendezvous with friends,
and mostly about the boys around us, some of whom were a bit silly,
but paid a lot of attention to me!
question was - who did I like? they seemed unpretentious, were they really?
was not sure myself. one day decided on one,
and he biked away at an accelerated speed at my sight!
was I not pretty? was I not charming?
was I bossy to frighten them? was my voice not alluring?
at last I did decide not to bother about them too much!
but get on with my literary life!
the diary was my precious friend, as close as a friend could be,
I confided, poured my soul, everything in her - from my deep-down secrets, little happinesses, my innocent pleasures,
to the intense sadnesses I felt sometimes.
it was not the passionate diary of a brave young girl hiding in the secret basement of a building,
hiding from the cruelest regime in the world,
it was candid expressions of a sensitive, shy, demure, emotional teenager,
the only outlet of her true feelings about the intriguing world.
how much I admired the pretty dresses my friends wore, and wished I had a few!
how much I admired spending time in our patio at the magnificent dawn when nobody was up, to see what I was up to,
how much I wished I were an author, and wrote novels like Jane Austen.
how much I wished I lived in Shakespeare's time, and be one of his maidens -
Miranda, and Opehelia, and Juliet, and Rosalind -
who emerged in my wildest dreams when I was in a dreamland!
the dreams which I wished, would never end,
but for sure they ended eventually!
A Diary - a few pages bound together - was me!
no (apparent) rhyme nor reason
(satisfactorily) explains academic
disposition, ideally suited
(swiftly tailor made,
and harried styled)
unflattering venomous wicked xhenemy
(fill in choicest expletive) damn cruelest
"meanies" always in season
winter, spring, summer, or autumn,
psychological rabid
bullying and teas'n,
which only exacerbated
ma deathly coffin and wheeze'n.
Avenging beastly, eagerly,
and hungry knuckleheads, rip-snorting,
analogous to Doctor Zeus
characters, vis a vis stomped,
and trampled upon my wuss
self, who appeared as
a listless, passive, puss
see footing, and
timid complex edifice
christened Matthew Scott Harris,
who regularly got pushed,
shoved, and verbally gored
in utero potential quintessential
no salvation from Unitarian lord
ugly vicious wretched
insults liberally poured
(pre snapchat, instagram,
hash-tagged age) roared
increased spell of losing measured
necessary pridefulness scored
requisite susceptibility toward
brow beating, name
calling, plus tossed
brickbats staged early life, viz
psychological schizoid state courtesy
hateful nemesis within
corporeal lodge warred.
malevolent habitués received
permanent residency thence
"green lighted" status
since birth I cannot sense
sub billy understand
(near) total recall
particularly names
no matter offense
of classmates and/
or teacher's, hence
especially dumb
founding since defense
less "boy" did not
shine as a star student
as is if he (me)
took emotional absence.
plus to add insult
to injury, my mouth
stayed hermetically shut,
near invisibility designated nut
tin beat pluperfect
"scapegoat de jure,"
such intimidation found me
feeling thrashed in the gut
where (stellar) qualifications
only made cut
ting worse, (essentially attributed
to genetically inscribed
behaviors, characteristics,
habits, et cetera)
immediately designated yours truly
most puny, and
quietest convenient but
of any atheistic, ethnic,
and/or idiotic jokes.
Humans seem rather peculiar
amidst all the species out there;
reason, language, high emotions,
from romantic love to despair.
But one thing you always notice,
regardless of where you might go,
that all our tribes and nations have
established their own moral codes.
These differ from hierarchy,
the kind you’d see in a wolf pack,
such things are built upon power,
the deeper thinking they all lack.
Wolves don’t ask, ‘Do I believe this?
Do I think, in essence, it’s right?’
They go along mostly through fear
of what happens if they lose a fight.
This holds true for most animals,
all lacking our reasoning skills,
we tell ourselves we make these codes
to ensure we don’t harm or kill.
As if we all sat down one day
and said,’We’ll do this to survive,’
or we say that it comes from God,
Who is watching over our lives.
Now I won’t speculate on that,
no human mind can think that large,
but I wonder, is it hubris
to think that nature took no part?
To say that it all came from us,
when we’d evolved up to this state?
I know humans can do so much,
but have we ever been that great?
A thought that’s been nagging at me
when I see the animal realm,
all species seem to have a check
so that they do not overwhelm.
The predators are limited
by the abundance of their prey,
they can never outnumber them,
or they’d starve with nothing to slay.
The herbivores are limited
by the predator's claws and teeth,
so they don’t grow and crop the plants,
like the endless deer in the east.
We’ve long known of nature’s balance,
but when looking at human kind,
it seems something more is needed
to restrain advanced human minds.
Because when it comes to killing
most admit, we’re a class all our own,
the reason that has propelled us,
makes us the cruelest ever known.
Bears that are ten times human strength
run in fear of us at mere sight,
tigers that once ruled the jungle
barely even put up a fight.
Small pox that killed millions of us
was purposely wiped from the earth,
we could glass this entire planet,
and make its very atoms hurt.
How does evolution check this?
What keeps these skills from running mad?
As we’ve seen from sociopaths
an unrestrained human is bad...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
We were once inseparable, two souls intertwined,
In your laughter, I found peace; in your eyes, I was defined.
You made me feel special, like I finally belonged,
In your presence, I felt strong, like nothing could go wrong.
But time, cruel time, took you away,
You became someone else, in the cruelest way.
The people around you, they twisted your mind,
Turning your heart cold, leaving mine behind.
You began to hate me, I could see it in your eyes,
The warmth was gone, replaced by silent lies.
I clung to the memories, the love we once shared,
But each night I cried, because you no longer cared.
The pain consumed me, tore me apart,
Every tear a testament to my broken heart.
I wrote pages of sorrow, my love poured out in ink,
But you were distant, on the edge of the brink.
You used me, I knew it, but still I stayed,
Hoping against hope that you’d find your way.
I let you take what you needed, piece by piece,
Because even in your absence, my love didn’t cease.
Every hug felt hollow, but I couldn’t let go,
I needed you near, even if the love didn’t show.
We walked side by side, in a silence so deep,
It killed me inside, made it hard to sleep.
I missed the old you, the one I adored,
The one who once cared, the one I lived for.
But you were gone, replaced by someone new,
And my heart broke each day, as I longed for the true.
New friends came, they helped me survive,
But inside, my love for you was still alive.
When you came back, I thought I was strong,
But my heart betrayed me—I’d loved you all along.
We tried to rebuild, to find what we lost,
But the love that we had came with too high a cost.
We were different now, the bond had decayed,
And in every argument, my heart further frayed.
But still, my love burned, brighter than the sun,
Even when you hurt me, I couldn’t be done.
I cried for you, for us, for what we had been,
For the joy and the pain, for the love deep within.
Now, all that remains are the tears that I shed,
The nights of despair, the words left unsaid.
I loved you so deeply, more than words can convey,
But you broke me, my friend, in the cruelest way.
I know that I was born insane
to love so much the face of Death.
Insanity romanced me even when
a child still dwelled beneath infernal skin.
Why could society not understand
that all I’ve ever really wanted equals none?
They knew I never fancied animating flesh
but would not let my life be done.
I couldn't stir myself into the mix
of scribes and commons laying decent laws
demanding that I shadow the shadow cast
by some thin, mortal God.
I've always been enchanted by the doomsday trim
of lightness edged with Death’s esthetic claws
and yet, new dawns decreed I stay
and left me pinched in Life's stiff, rigid pause.
I pined away in darkest corridors for He
who could erase the curse of knowledge learned.
My Alabaster Wraith, He sat with me while Life
held me confined and counted out my every breath
as if a promise that he'd wrest the soil
back from my hollow bones
and press my spirit back into the dust,
so I might find some peace, in the unknown.
I often pled for cruelest remedies
that Life's more favored inmates feared
because each torture treatment let me glimpse
His lethal cowl and my demise.
Mere breaths and heartbeats stood
between my sickness and the cure
for Life's oppression of my soul
that lay too far on Death's frontier.
I've never sought forked-ray lobotomies
or sun-salts poured in night-stained eyes.
I never yearned for freedom or the sun
but revelled in the sweetest dreams
that I would breech the human warehouse walls
but not survive the birth,
become a husk of inert flesh allowed
to find asylum in the earth.
Restraint within a man-made tomb of Life
was all the Hell I ever feared and yet
my mind was so incurable that by and by
I was abandoned by the pious saints...
until there rose a hero on the still walls of
a midnight void of Death's sure faith;
He came and he collected me
my Alabaster Wraith.
Stone testaments commomorate a Life
I never lived or wanted to have lived,
a number chains my bones in place
where people forcefully preserved
Life's longing for itself.
My meatless parts communicate
a warmth for living that I never felt
but balms of death have healed my hate.
I was a mean-spirited, remorseless boy
when it came to get revenge
with the boldest outrage...
Joey never suspected foul play from me!
We were the cruelest classmates,
bullying on the weak and skinny ones;
emptying out their pockets and confiscate
their money as if we were the Internal Revenue...
where would we get that without another avenue?
We looked at them laughing, but our laughter was deliberate!
A question remained, " Who was going to be the treasurer? "
Joey stared at me with envy trying to say, " It's me! "
I stared at him in the same way wishing it were me!
" Andy, let me handle the treasure since I like math! "
And with confidence he promised, " Not a dime will be missing! "
" I have to trust you on that, Joey...you talk silly! "
But he shouted, " You couldn't keep a secret!
Your mom will wonder where you've gotten all that money, thinking
you have done something stupid and illegal like robbing or stealing! "
" Okay, " I snarled, " You got your wish...you grizzly bear! "
Morning came as I plotted against him planning every step
with astuteness, " My plan can't fail! " I told myself...
Joey came running to me as a runner in a marathon,"
" Where did you get those Fila sneakers and Perry America jacket? "
" My dad bought me those...he wanted to reward for my good grades! "
" You cheating, bastard...if it weren't for me, you would fail them all! "
" We are supposed to give the money back to those poor kids! "
I shouted with a vexed voice...but he replied laughing, " No, I never will, punk! "
It was a week before graduation, we took the final test,
how much I wanted Joey to feel the stamina of my wrist
by remembering what he did with the stolen money!
The air in the classroom was as solemn as a church's silence,
Joey sat next to me and copied the answers as I checked them them in each box.
" Fool, you are going to fail this test...this is my revenge! " I uttered...
" What was that? " The wrong answer? " He asked me without malice.
" Yes, change it to All Of The Above " I answered confidentially.
Many more wrong answers I gave him until I put my pencil down and sighed.
" Thanks, Andy for the answers...I hate summer school: you are simply the best! "
somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands e.e. cummings
~
________________________________________________
" LV means Love"
contrasting winds which carried particles
of who we used to be
circled and settled. to fold into one
...becoming us...
that you are me...and i am you..
two hearts, one sun, one moon, that built a love
where twists and bends, would melt into one,
where eyes can't see where threads connect;
a solid rock, yet soft as feathers
where I can come to lay my head
and cast away the darkest day, the cruelest night
never will we understand
the shifts and strains of wayward winds
that whirl, and pound on fate's own door
the knowing why is not what counts, what matters deeply more...
is when I reach my hand to touch
this vaporous thing...impossible to define
where mortal words can not explain
nothing to see, nothing to touch,
just the faint breath of us
a dream, not myth....that final sleep cannot erase....
so sure this breath of life we share
is reason enough, that we are here
..............................................................................................................
For Joann's Contest "Copy Cat" My poem inspired by e.e. cummings poem LVII
Pray masquerading hidden beauty,
Sweet innocent Princess Cinderella
She of midnight pumpkin slipper glass
For whom the ball bell's
Be spared your humble prince his
blushes of asking for your hand
and pleasure of your company
And so to please accompany me into the
banquet hall for the remainder on this
most auspicious summer evening
His Majesty quite inexorably is taken
with your strength and presence as yee
his confidence you have shaken
And he wishes to if nothing else discover
the name of said fair maiden woven into
that bespoken silken dress that grace
herself doth silhouette such blinding figure
of the number eight
If this be my kingdom i am over which to
reign then surely i duty bound as said king
should wish the fairest princess in all the lands
under my domain to take and marry as my Queen
and mother bare she and i a rightful heir to follow
the line of succession
For if the price of royal cross to bare is
duty before self then let me please this 1
concession have
Let me please for marry love and get to
choose she that which doth my heart desires
with a wanten passion worthy of an endearing
romantic fairytale ending where the protagonists
end up growing old together gracefully
So come the when the clock after
the bewitching hour of midnight 12 o'clock
strike shall you not be with a but slipper
left to seek you out once more
Rather we dispense with pleasantries and be not another
further single we a second lost just incase
either of you and i be in both in a state of
wistful dreaming
Only to be told my unconscious subliminal Julliet
was in reality to be in fact an unassuming passing
stranger terminal cancer patient who choose to spend her final moments reading
Shakespeare's Romeo and Julliet to me whilst i was
in my coma
So when in fact or if indeed eventually i was to
awake the time i lost could be permeated
by an empathetic soul by the voice of
an angel
Falling victim only to be branded with the mark by one of life's cruelest of intentions better to have loved
and lost than never to have loved at all