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Long Irony Poems | Long Irony Poetry

Long Irony Poems. Below are the most popular long Irony by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Irony poems by poem length and keyword.

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Robert Candler | Details |

Went Fishin'


Submitted to the "Gone Fishin" contest
------------------------------------------------

Trollin’ the islands at Texoma,
It was April, 1964.
New rod and reel in hand,
I’d NEVER been fishing before.

A Garcia 2510T casting rod.
The reel, a Mitchell 301,
Plus hand-selected worms and lures…
I was ready to have some fun.

My teacher, a master fisherman,
Had fished all over the earth...
From trout in Austrian mountain streams
To sea bass just west of Perth.

He showed me all the basics,
Including how to tie a lure.
“No snaps. They’re no good.
Tie’em on…just to be sure.”

He made me practice casting.
“Take aim with your rod’s tip 
Take her back - ten, eleven, twelve, one;
Smoothly return to ten… with just a little flip.”

While I practiced the casting motion,
He said, “Large Mouths will be jumpin’ bugs.
Water’s bubblin’ with Sand Bass spawnin’.
You’ll know the difference if one gives you a tug.”

As we drifted around the islands,
He said, “I think you’re ready.”
So, I picked a lure, a pretty Heddon;
And tied her on.  My hands were steady.

Yellow with black dots and a weed guard. 
A streamer tail and double treble hooks.
Who knew if she would do the job,
But I liked the way she looked.

As I tied her on, I looked around
For a likely place for my first cast.
Magazine pictures always showed weeds
In the background of a striking Bass.

So, I picked a reed bed in the shallows;
Threw my first cast, watched her fly.
What happened next was the stuff of dreams.
We couldn’t believe our eyes. 

About eighteen inches before she lit,
A monstrous Large Mouth erupted from the water.
My teacher screamed, “Holy Mary, Mother of God!  
Kiss O’Reilly’s Ugly Daughter!”

When the Bass broke water, it scared me. 
My whole body jerked and shook.
So sudden, so silent, it seemed like slow motion.
Until I heard him screaming, “Set the hook!  Set the hook!”

When the big Bass scared me,
I must have set the hook.
The tussle was on, long and hard.
This fish didn’t want to be cooked.

My lack of skills prevailed, however,
As I finally reeled him in;
I grabbed him by the lower lip,
Like I’d seen Don Wallace do, time and time again.

“Oh, my God”, he murmured as he weighed the Bass;
“Jeez.  Over thirteen pounds....Thirteen pounds, two.”
He took out his Polaroid and laughed, 
“I’ll take a picture of this fish... holdin' you.”

He snapped the picture of me holding the Bass;
On the back wrote the date, the length and weight.
As he turned to put the camera away……
Get ready.  This is the part that’s great.

I’d watched Don Wallace ‘catch and release’.
He always did that on his show.
“This fish put up a good fight.” he’d say;
“Now it’s time to let him go.”

Yes, as my teacher put away the camera,
I held the big Bass by the lower lip and tail
And ‘swished’ him in the water,
Making sure his gills would not fail.

My teacher turned and saw what I was doing
Just as I let the big Bass go.
This, too, was like slow motion
As I heard him screaming, “NOOOOOOO!”

“Why would you do that, Lad?
Do ya know nothin’ at all?
A fish like that... on your very first cast?
Well...Lad, that fish goes on the wall.”

“Well…he’ll be here next year.” I said with a smile,
“And even bigger, I’ll bet.”
He said, ”You’ll make a fisherman, Lad.
It’s not for the fish that we fish…

but for the great stories we get.” 

I still have that lure…and the rod and reel.
Still in their bags and boxes, just like new.
I thought about selling them on eBay,
But 50 years later, they have sentimental value.

You see…I’ve been invited to go fishin’ several times
By golfin’ buddies and other friends;
But for some reason…I really don’t know why…
I’ve never gone fishin’ again.

They say, “Truth is stranger than fiction.”
And I believe that is a fact.
I hope you enjoyed this bit of truth and,
In the meantime…..”Ya’ll come back!”

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014


Long poem by Suki Spangles | Details |

I Broke The Office Paper Shredder The Day Before Yesterday

i broke the office paper shredder the day before yesterday
and needless to say
the cruel word has spread around the office town
i broke the office paper shredder
i arrived to work yesterday
and there was an awkward tea point silence
nothing was said you understand
but there was that definite vibe
similar to one of those who jammed the photocopier vibes
you know the drill
precisely like a more bloody episode of the wire

i opened an email
did you break the office paper shredder
did you inform anyone
it took us nearly thirty five minutes to fix it..so i'm guessing that means it took them up to thirty four minutes
..it took us nearly thirty five minutes to fix it
also you must have folded the paper in half before shredding
why
please respond asap
we never thought you would be capable of doing something so..
 
i responded guilty
i'm guilty and i'm sorry
i didn't know i jammed it
i'm sure the paper went through
and i never folded it either
or if i did it was an oversight
it wasn't on purpose
it's not like i'm some kind of terrorist
oh we'll be the judge of that
will you please step outside..
now as i have a day off today
i shall only find out tomorrow night whether
this case will be escalated
to the hr herbal tea bag jihadis
perhaps i should get the union involved
perhaps i should ask for a priest of my denomination
i'm in trouble
no doubt about it
it's karma isn't it
i will be reincarnated as a jammed sheet of shredded paper
and this poem won't help
it might make things even worse
as if they can get any worse
lord krishna please forgive me
i'll work on opening my third eye from tomorrow
i promise
i'll even work on opening my eyelids

i broke the office paper shredder
it lay broken  for nearly thirty five minutes
i received an email
i could see that all the important management people were also copied in
i'm gonna bleed
i'm wondering now
while on my day off today
who they have also 
forwarded and cc'd and bcc'd
no doubt you too will soon receive that email
loaded with coded comments not so veiled
i must take ownership of my sin
perhaps save myself from being thrown head down
in the man's recycle bin
it's morning but i need a drink

i broke the office paper shredder
it lay broken for nearly thirty five minutes
they knew it was me
because they looked inside the shredder
yes they actually looked inside the shredder
and they recognised that particular brand of coloured paper
that we use only for the committee rooms
and they knew i would have been the one to shred those sheets
there's no point in denying it either
they might have already checked the cctv
it must gone down all csi
they must have taken prints dna ultraviolet
and as i live in the uk
i can't take the fifth or plea bargain
or drive to mexico
or become a guy stripper in vegas

where will it end
is this what i have worked for
is all this dust meant to only turn to
dust
the office gossipers have me in their twerking grips
those smirking smug ninja pixies
their dead eyes swinging from their hips...


on a positive note
although i'm a middle aged man
is this breaking the office paper shredder
that lay broken for nearly thirty five minutes remember
my rock star moment
will the office ladies see me now as that edgy guy
hey look it's that guy the he broke the office paper shredder guy
i just wanna rip my clothes off
i just don't care
a man like that loses control for a reason
he's probably misunderstood
he probably writes really deep poetry
or does something even worse than that
he has that tortured million mile stare and everything
and to think
i always just used to walk right past him
when will i learn
when will i learn..

Copyright © Suki Spangles | Year Posted 2015


Long poem by Robert Candler | Details |

The Doctor Is A Dead Man Walking

Bob had a special talent
That only worked in his men’s store.
He had ‘clothing ESP’.
He knew what his customers wanted…and more.

When customer would come into his store
Bob would invariably say, 
“Hello. I'm Bob. Don’t say a word.
I already know what you need today.”

And he was always right,
Never missed a color, fabric, style or size.
He even knew the necessary alterations.
Customers couldn’t believe their ears and eyes.

Meanwhile, in another part of town,
Joe had a pounding, relentless migraine
For every minute for more than five years,
It had driven him near insane.

He’d lost his job to the pain.
Then, he lost his wife.
He had lost a lot of weight and rarely slept.
Yes, his was a miserable life.

And, of course,  sex was out of the question…
Even a little self-abuse.
There was nothing left for Joe but pain.
He felt his life was of no use.

So, Joe went to his doctor.
“Doc, please help me end this pain.
Give me something to make me sleep
And never wake up again.”

“You know I can’t assist your suicide.”,
Then he looked sad, perhaps ashamed.
“I never dreamed it would last five years,
But I know how to end the pain.”

“You can make it go away?!
Tell me, Doc!  What’s the word?”
“I’ll have to remove your testicles.”
Was the last thing that Joe heard.

But…when he came to, it struck him.
Sex was out of the question anyway;
But he might enjoy his meals again,
And he could sleep for days.

“Please check me in, Doc.
This opportunity I cannot shirk.”
So, the doctor removed his testicles.
He did his very best work.

A few days later, Joe waddled along,
Headache free and feeling pretty nice;
But every attractive woman he saw 
Reminded him of his sacrifice.

He decided it was appropriate
To do something nice for himself for a change.
So, he went into a travel agency;
And a six month cruise he arranged.

As he left the travel agency,
He was excited, feeling ready to go;
But for such a glorious adventure,
He would need new clothes.

As he walked along, he saw Bob’s Men's Store.
He walked in, only to hear Bob say,
“Hello.  I’m Bob. Don’t say a word.
I already know what you need today.”

“How could you know?” asked Joe.
“It’s a gift.  I don’t know how, but I do.
You’ve suffered five years with an ailment,
Found relief, so now you’re taking a cruise.” 

Joe could not believe his ears.
How could this stranger possibly know?
"You're right! That's amazing!
And I'm going to need new clothes." 

Bob then laid out a fabulous wardrobe
All the right colors, fabrics, styles…and each size.
Joe was incredibly impressed.
He could hardly believe his ears and eyes.

“How do you like the wardrobe?”
“It’s wonderful!”  Bob could see that Joe was pleased.
“Now,” said Bob, “What about undergarments;
You know…shorts and tees?

Let’s see…medium crew neck tees, all cotton.
I believe that you prefer white….
And jockey shorts, all cotton…. 34s.
Yes, I'm sure that’s right.”

Joe beamed, “You’re an amazing talent
And I just this second realized,
You've laid out this entire wardrobe
And only missed one size.”

Bob, surprised by his mistake, asked, “Really?
What did I miss?  I did my best for you.”
“Well…you’re right.” said Joe, “I do wear Jockeys,
But…well…I wear 32s.

“Oh, no!” said Bob with an ugly grimace.
“That would be a serious mistake.
Thirty-twos will cramp your balls, 
You’ll get migraine headaches.”

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014


Long poem by John Arribas | Details |

EVA NELL

EVE NELL
BY

JOHN M. ARRIBAS

EVA NELL WAS A BEAUTIFUL BABY,  LATER A TEEN
A GORGEOUS WOMAN,  AS HAS EVER BEEN SEEN
COQUETTISH, CHARMING, WITH  INVITING SIGHS
SOME SAID THERE WAS EVIL BEHIND THOSE EYES
OF ALL THE MEN THAT PURSED HER EXOTIC  CHARMS
IT WASN’T A SURPRISE THAT SHE FELL INTO THE ARMS
OF THE WEALTHIEST  BACHELOR IN OUR TOWN
THEY SOON WED , SHE WORE A BEJEWELED CROWN
 
THEY LIVED THE LIFE, THE RICH ARE PROJECTED
THEN ONE NIGHT AN AWFUL SCENE UNEXPECTED
HER IN-LAWS  WERE KILLED WHEN FAILING TO BRAKE
CAR JUMPED THE GUARD RAIL AND SANK INTO A LAKE
RUMORS SAID EVA AND HER SPOUSE DID THEM IN
AN UNBRIDLED AND RICHER LIFE NOW TO BEGIN
AFTER ALL THIS WAS BIG MONEY, AND ONLY ONE HEIR
SUSPECTING THE FOUL PLAY WAS TOTALLY FAIR

ABOUT A YEAR LATER TRAGEDY BEFELL EVA NELL
HER HUSBAND PERISHED HE  FELL INTO A WELL
OFFICIALS  LAUNCHED A THOROUGH INVESTIGATION
NOT MUCH REMAINED DUE TO SAME DAY CREMATION

EVA MOVED TO RICHMOND,  THEN ONE NIGHT AT A BALL
SHE ATTRACTED A RICH WIDOWER HANDSOME AND TALL
WITHIN A FEW MONTHS THEY WERE JOYFULLY WED
WITHIN A FEW MONTHS HER HUSBAND WAS DEAD
AS THE SURVIVING SPOUSE SHE WAS AWARDED HALF
SMIRKING DISBELIEVERS GIGGLED AND LAUGHED
SNIDE REMARKS AND WHISPERS TO HARD TO BREACH 
SOLD ALL OF THE ASSETS AND MOVED TO PALM BEACH

THEN ONE NIGHT AT A CHARITABLE AFFAIR
SHE MET A OLD GENTLEMAN,  A MILLIONAIRE
IN A QUICK ORDER THE TWO WERE ALL SMILES
THEN WED, OFF IN A YACHT TO ROMANTIC ISLES
NO ONE KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED NEXT
THE OLD MAN HAD DROWNED SO SAID THE TEXT



EVA NELL (2)


SOMBER AND SAD SHE RETURNED TO PALM BEACH
A GREAT FORTUNE WELL  WITHIN HER REACH
COLLECTED INSURANCE AND HER MARITAL SHARE
THEN OFF TO EUROPE WITH NARY A CARE
IN-LAWS DEMANDED THE EVENT BE INVESTIGATED
TO LATE, THAT VERY DAY SHE HAD HIM CREMATED
AGAIN SNIDE REMARKS AND SUSPICIOUS CRIES
CAUSED HER TO MOVE  FROM PRYING EYES

SHE MOVED TO MIAMI WHERE THE BEAUTIFUL MEET
FREQUENTED SOUTH BEACH A MAGNIFICENT TREAT
POOR EVA NELL MORE GRIEF FOR HER TO SURVIVE
SUBSEQUENTLY LOST HUSBANDS  FOUR AND FIVE

THEN ONE NIGHT WHILE CROSSING THE STREET
SHE WAS NEARLY STRUCK EXCEPT FOR THE FLEET
ACTIONS OF A MAN, WHO SWEPT HER INTO HIS ARMS
CULTURED AND URBANE GIFTED WITH CHARMS
ENRAPTURED , SHE INVITED HIM TO DINE AT  HER PLACE
WITHIN A FEW DAYS THE TWO IN CONSTANT EMBRACE
SHE SAID TO HIM, YOU I MUST MARRY
OFF TO RENO NO TIME  TO TARRY
AT A SIMPLE CHAPEL, THEY BOTH SAID I DO
SHE HAD FOUND HER LOVE HONEST AND TRUE

SHE WAS TRULY HAPPY, BEAUTIFUL AND RICH
A FEW MONTH LATER SHE WAS FOUND  IN A DITCH
THEY SAY SHE WAS DRIVING FAR TOO FAST
OTHERS SAY SHE WAS CAUGHT UP BY HER PAST

HER BEREAVED HUSBAND WAS SOON  REWARDED
TO ALL THE RICHES EVA NELL HAD EXTORTED 
JACK WAS A BEAUTIFUL BABY LATER A TEEN
BECAME A MODERN ADONIS AS EVER BEEN SEEN
FOR ALL HIS CHARMS AND ROMANTIC SIGHS
SOME SAID THERE WAS EVIL BEHIND THOSE EYES


 



Copyright © John Arribas | Year Posted 2015


Long poem by Suki Spangles | Details |

Politician Chops A Tomato In His Kitchen, Another Politician Sips Tea In His Second Kitchen

Politician chops a tomato
in his kitchen
Now he's chopping a lettuce
in his kitchen
He's saying things at the same time
in his kitchen

He's endowed with multi-skilled sets
Yes he must live in the real world I've guessed
He can chop a tomato
And then a lettuce
And talk at the same time
I've never chopped a lettuce in my life
in my kitchen
I have chopped a tomato though
But it wasn't in my kitchen
It was in someone else's
kitchen
It was a pretty weird situation
That pretty weird kitchen situation is for another poem
And probably one you won't want to read
if  I'm being honest
So I won't be honest..honest.

Well that tells us all we need to know
I'm convinced
I always wondered whether he could chop a tomato
in his kitchen
It's not easy at the best of times
You know that
I know that
Let's not pretend
And he did it all in front of the cameras
in his kitchen
Chopping a lettuce truly earns my respect
And should earn yours too
A man who can chop a lettuce and talk about not wanting to be prime minister for a third term
When he's still in his first
To think that far ahead
in his kitchen
While chopping a tomato
and then a lettuce
in his kitchen
Talking at the same time
in his kitchen
About not wanting to be prime minister for a third term
When he's still serving his first
That truly earns my respect
Like watching a marine punch a gazelle..

And regardless of whoever's kitchen I happen to be in
Were I to be in your kitchen for example
I would feel that same swell of admiration
And I promise I would never chop a tomato
in your kitchen
And definitely not a lettuce
Just in case you're wondering
I don't eat lettuce
And even if I did
I would never chop it in your kitchen
Even if I were to be in a really bad mood..

And here's another politician
This one is in his second kitchen
Conversing with his wife while drinking tea
in his second kitchen
I know that could never be me
I don't have a first wife and I don't have a second kitchen
(and I don't really sip tea for I'm an uncouth gulper
probably my Indian upbringing)
Thus I could never be a democratic socialist leader
Although I'd like to be
Who could believe in me
When I don't have a second kitchen to sip tea in
with a wife which I don't have
Listening attentively to my democratic socialist thoughts
While sipping tea which I wouldn't sip anyway
Being more of an uncouth gulper probably because of my Indian upbringing
in my second kitchen
which I also don't have..

To be that man who can sip tea so nonchalantly
Not even in his first kitchen
But in his second kitchen
The one that he's not used to sipping tea in
That's beyond the call of duty
So beyond you
And me
So who really lives in the real world
Well I think that's plain to see


http://sukispangles.blogspot.co.uk

Copyright © Suki Spangles | Year Posted 2015


Long poem by Suki Spangles | Details |

Bigotry Inc

Bigotry Inc.

We are Bigotry Inc
Bigotry is an Equal Opportunities Employer
Whatever your religion
Whatever your creed
Whatever your politics
Whatever your class or caste or clan
Whatever your flag waving spam
Whatever your skin colour
Whatever your so called truth and facts and historical spin
Bigotry Inc welcomes you in
Wilful Ignorance here is very much not a sin
Every lie gets laid and gets in
Selective amnesia is Dream

Bigotry Inc is an Equal Opportunities Employer
We positively welcome all your demons and shills and belittlers and destroyers
We recognise that all groups and sub cultures and sects
Have as much right to celebrate their hate and prejudice and fear
As any other
It is all cleared

Different demagogues for different demographics
Bigotry Inc is flexible and plastic
Bigotry Inc prefers the measures drastic
The mobs the vigilantes the prophets of the anti
The ones who need to save us from the outsiders of ourselves
Where the moral high ground lead down to the gates of hell
Where the slippery slope is our wishing well
Where the silken sheath hides the noose man's rope
Where every fist has its blessing pope
Where every god will anoint the righteous
Follow the promised land to burning tyres
Where oil kisses fire
Where music grapples piano wire
The scent of blood desired

Every group has its day
Some more than others we have to say
But that's okay
Because in every system there's an overlord that owns
Every village has buried bones
Every culture sticks and stones
Beliefs cloned
Finessed and forged anew
Hello and goodbye you and you and you
Adieu

Bigotry Inc resends the unbroken spell
Appropriately reviewed for the different ages and epochs and eras
Forge the burning speakers
Stoke the cheer leaders
Ready the tears and save the cut and paste hysteria
We at Bigotry Inc will always be here
No fear
Smell the fever
Drink the beer

We at Bigotry Inc
Have been the most successful organisation since man crawled out a fish
We have always gifted the entitlement to stomp and twist
We at Bigotry Inc
Love all bigotry
No hate is too big or too small
None too ridiculous
No superstition too superstitious
All maliciousness is just delicious
All hateful fictions build our empires nutritious
Bigotry Inc is felicitous to earth's multi-variant piss artists

We are the human race
We are every night fable of every face
You have the right to hate
As do those you call they
And so do they
It's funny it slays us too
Come on in
And join the fun
Don't analyse or empathise
There's enough bigotry here for everyone

We at Bigotry Inc are always ahead of the curve
We know how to operate the myths' reflexive nerve
With verve
To project and serve
We are the lines that light the words that burn
And guarantee we never learn

Copyright © Suki Spangles | Year Posted 2015


Long poem by Robert Candler | Details |

The Last Laugh

One of Life’s indisputable facts:
Government reserves the right to tax;
And tho’ they waste far more than they should,
It’s supposedly done “for the common good.”

Economists use the word “propensity,”
Just a fancy word for “odds”, you see:
The odds you’ll save, the odds you’ll spend,
And how many Tax Dollars those odds will rend.

The basis for U.S. government budgets is “Total Tax Dollars Collected”;
And any overtures to reduce those collections are summarily rejected;
And should a source of taxes have declined or dissipated,
Other taxes are increased and/or new taxes are created.

Many, if not most, of these taxes are “regressive”.
That means their actual impact on income is “progressive”...
But “progressive” in a very negative way.
Relatively speaking, the Less you make, the More you pay.

Whether you make it or sell it, need it or want it, Congress will tax it;
And, once a tax is on the books, Congress has zero “propensity” to relax it.
Congresses, Federal and State, love to tax Luxury and Sin;
Smoking Sinners have had their taxes raised again and again and again.

Cigarette taxes are frequently raised, the “claim” is to drive users to quit;
But Truth is measured in Billions in taxes, so we know supporters are “full of it.”
Meantime, Non-smokers reap many benefits, while Smokers foot the bill;
And if that should change, Non-smokers would taste a financially “bitter pill.”

Taxed and taxed and taxed some more, but not yet into submission,
Smokers could shift their tax burden to Non-smokers…without their permission.
Yes, what if one Fateful day, those Smoking Sinners, Each and Every one,
Just put them down and said, “I quit.”; said en masse, “We’re done!”

Congresses would be clamoring to derive Billions in Taxes elsewhere,
At first, Non-smokers may not realize the impact they’re about to bear.
When an industry dies, businesses and people’s jobs are lost…it’s true;
But all those Tax Dollars must come from somewhere...the likes of me and you.

So righteous, whining Non-smokers maintained their hue and cry.
Ever pushing Congresses to tax those Smoking Sinners… tax them ‘til they die;
But after quitting, Ex-Smokers would pay less, while Non-Smokers would pay more.
Guess Non-smokers didn’t think far enough ahead, didn’t really know the score.

All those dreary anti-smoking ads, many of which falsified the cause,
Would disappear.  And what about all the useless anti-smoking laws?
Instead of Non-smokers not liking Smokers, Ex-Smokers would serve instead.
"The bastards are costing me money. I wish they had smoked 'til they were dead."

So, Ex-smokers would be getting healthier and spending far less;
And may be cause for some Non-smokers’ financial distress.
While they ruefully pay more, Ex-smokers' pocket books will attest
By reminding Non-smokers daily......the Last Laugh is Best.

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014


Long poem by William Masonis | Details |

A Hospital Stay - Part VI

                                                                   6.

                                                   Miracles and Miseries

The world resolved itself back into focus
As I lay amid the swarm of monitors
Still gulping the sword that brought me breath.

The worst now past
Many small miseries remained,
Chief among them the continuing mystery
Of my flooded, struggling lungs.

Finally I breathe well enough for the sword to be removed,
But the tests go on and on
The birth of each day bearing forth
Its own fresh indignity.

They give up guessing and haul me down again
To be opened anew and read for signs.

On the day this is done
The invisible agents of death outside
Decide to mock their pursuers
By leaving a tarot card at that day's shooting site.

They chose the Death card, of course
Revealing how little those 
Who choose to play God games really know
About the mystical.

Dreaming of omnipotence through dealing death
The unseen assassins miss their own meaning;
For this card signals change, the ending of present things.
They have unwittingly declared their game will soon be over,
Predicting their own demise.

Meanwhile the doctors make their own spread of me
And come up blank again.

     Once more I return to I.C.U.,
     Held together with staples.

     Once more the little agonies ensue:
     The sitting, the turning, the testing.

By night they come for my blood.
By day they come for  tests.
Always, in the background, the quiet moanings
Of we, the damned, condemned to medical Limbo
Roll on with the blind passage of hours and days.

     The English nurse comes, all brightness and bubble
     To heave my fragile self about;
     She's a welcome break in the monotony
     As my sustainers come and go.

Again the busy bedside conferences
And again the final admission
That all their probings have led down blind alleys.

A last-ditch effort is finally proposed:
Direct drainage of the drowning lungs.
To them this seems as a grasping at straws,
But to me it seems the one sensible solution,
And I look forward to it eagerly.
My inner mantra of "This too shall pass"
Is wearing thin.

Like a Christian martyr of old,
They pierce my back with their lance,
And the sea within that is drowning me
Finds its way out.

As the noxious waters within rush out,
Air surges into my grateful lungs.
From this moment, recovery becomes the new reality.

As I recover,
Indiscretion leads to capture 
Of the unseen terrormakers.

To the astonishment of all, 
They prove to be a dignified looking black man
And his enthralled protege' -
No prior convictions, no history of trouble 
Attached to them at all.

This is how our modern Destroyers come calling.
Well dressed, well spoken models of propriety.

Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2013


Long poem by Ruben A. Hernandez Diaz | Details |

The Bleeding Roses

Roses in the garden,

Roses in the world,

Barrened roses,

Roses impearled,

But now roses curled...

 

Peach roses show modesty,

Peach roses show gratitude,

However, they are often insincere...

 

Yellow roses seem to care,

Yellow roses show friendship,

However, they are often joyless and jealous...

 

Pink roses communicate sweetness,

Pink roses radiate elegance,

However, they are often unthankful...

 

Orange roses have desire,

Orange roses show their pride,

However, they are often impassive...

 

Purple roses are majestic,

Purple roses express love at first sight,

However, they are often repulsed and unenchanted...

 

Green roses are harmonious,

Green roses carry hope,

However, they are often unpeaceful...

 

Blue roses like dreaming,

Blue roses are imaginative,

Blue roses desire to know the unknown,

Blue roses are mysterious,

However, they are often elusive and unattainable...

 

Red roses are emotional,

Red roses are devotional,

Red roses are respectful,

However, they are often remorseful, sorrowful and mistaken...

 

Gold roses are occassional,

Gold roses like memories,

Gold roses are preserved,

However, they are often misinterpreted and confused...

 

White roses are pure,

White roses have innocence,

White roses are spiritual,

White roses carry secrecy,

However, they are often arrogant...

 

Silver roses are rare,

Silver roses like to grow,

Silver roses convert fantasy into reality,

However, they are often lost and uneasy,

But they seem unpredictable and mystical...

 

Black roses are mysterious,

Black roses are rebirth,

However, they often remain elusive,

They often symbolize death and loss,

But they are unpredictable and silent,

Though, they are often harmed...

 

Roses in  the garden,

Roses in the world,

Barrened roses,

But now roses swirled and twirled...

 

Although, now peach roses are lying,

Yellow roses turning jealous and browned,

Pink roses being unsweet and unthankful,

Orange roses being impulsive and compulsive,

Purple roses being repulsed and revulsed,

Green roses losing hope and harmony,

Blue roses being undiscovered and lost,

Red roses being regretful and voided,

Gold roses bewildered and confused,

White roses losing purity and innocence,

Silver roses turning black and unused,

And black roses silenced and unborn...

 

All there is to see are roses vanishing,

Roses burning,

Roses trembling,

Roses surviving,

Roses aching,

Roses battling,

Roses crying,

Roses suffering,

Roses drowning,

Roses drying,

Roses fading,

Roses trying,

Roses wiltering...

 

All there is to feel are roses withering,

In a bed of bleeding roses...

Copyright © Ruben A. Hernandez Diaz | Year Posted 2013


Long poem by Anna Hopper | Details |

Revenge 2014

"What time is it" she thought, as she lie on the ground
Her bare naked body had been beaten and bound
fine hairs on her arms stood erect, nipples were taut
Wandering eyes were mobile, the rest of her body was not
"How did I get here" she could not recall
All she remembered was the pain of the fall
The sound of her cat crying was on repeat
The aroma she smelled was of hamburger meat
A towel, just above her breast, tied in a knot
That much she recalled, the rest she forgot
A blanket of trees covered her view of the sky
Disoriented and panicked, she must have been high
The wicked pain convinced her she was not quite dead
Tried screaming, but was dumb
couldn't remember the last thing she said
"What day is it" she pondered, "for that matter, what year"
She knew she wasn't deaf, for the birds she could hear
Circling around her they seemed evil and starved
Attracted to her blood, where her body had been carved
Organs shut down, she suddenly dies
No time for her life to flash before her eyes
Her soul hovered above her lifeless shell
For a moment she thought that she was in hell
The pain had ceased, she felt fear, no more
Suddenly she remembered what she couldn't see before
Dancing in the kitchen, dinner on the stove
Cat perched on the counter, suddenly dove
Cleared the skillet by a hair, but her tail braised the eye
Arched back, tail raised, she painfully cried
The cries didn't cease as the hours ticked by
A blow to the head caused the kitty to die
Unexpected company, abruptly had arrived
The torture that played out, made this stranger feel alive
A needle to her arm sacrificed her sanity
Her face was planted firmly atop her vanity
Towel ripped from her body, Penetration from behind
White powdery substance, Perfectly lined
Aroused yet again, as her insides were exposed
Her body, a tool, for him to implode
Watching what occurred, in her life before
Was nothing short of chilling to the core
 Couldn't be heaven, too much sin to be seen
She must have been stuck somewhere between
She abandoned the vessel that carried her soul in the past
Pushing through briers and limbs, moving rather fast
Trees opened up, she looked around in disgust
Bodies covered the ground, disposal of his lust
Blood curdling screams were all she could hear
As each women's story revealed
It all became clear, why she was here 
Her purpose was the  power she wield
The last tear drop fell
She felt rather well
appointed and proud, she realized her worth
Revenge was her ticket  to escape this earth

Copyright © Anna Hopper | Year Posted 2015


Long Poems