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abortion absence
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grave green
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growth guitar
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hilarious hindi
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murder muse
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Long Science fiction Poems

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

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by The Seeker | Details |

The Arrival

Listen to poem:
"The divorce just about killed me.  Eleven years of what I believed to be wedded bliss and then she takes off with some schlep she met at the godforsaken post office of all places.  Somehow she still managed to get everything - the house, the Benz, even the dog.  So I quit my job and moved out here to live in the Smokies.  Just me and my tent and the squirrels.  Sir, what I'm about to tell you now is gonna blow your mind.  

Every October I start preparing for winter.  I visit the nearby town and scrounge for blankets, clothes and whatever else I need to keep warm.  Cut some extra wood, bury jars of berries I picked over the summer and so on.  I can still remember that fateful day as clearly as if it was yesterday.  October 21st, 1999.  At exactly 2:03 pm (yes, I managed to salvage my watch from the divorce) as I was chopping my last bit of wood, I heard a strange noise from above the trees. Now I had spent four years in the Air Force, and I can tell you that this was no sound of an aircraft that I'd ever heard.  A strange high-pitched whirring combined with a steady, rhythmic ping, ping, ping.  That's the best way I can describe it.  Anyway, I followed the sound until it stopped, about a hundred yards from my campsite.  I never saw an aircraft of any sort.  It's long been my contention that the invaders had used some sort of cloaking device making their ship invisible to the human eye.  In any case, what I saw next has haunted me for years.  Two dark figures approached from a nearby crag.  I saw them just as clearly as I see you before me now.  To be frank, these aliens didn't look aliens at all, at least not like anything out of Star Trek or Star Wars or even out of Roswell.  They were tall, thin, and for all intents and purposes looked a lot like me.  No red, glowing eyes.  No green skin.  All at once they turned in my direction!  One of them spoke:

'Hey you, got a cigarette?'

Imagine my surprise (and I might add, disappointment).  Here I was privileged to have first contact with an alien species and the first thing he asks me is: 'Got a cigarette?'  Whatever happened to: 'Take me to your leader,' or 'We have come in the name of peace?'  I called out:

'Uh, sorry dude, uh, I don't smoke.  Can I come out?'

He answered: 'Come.'

Now this was no ordinary: 'Come.'  When he spoke it his voice got real deep-like and loud and the sound echoed throughout the mountains: 'Come, come, come...'  It was precisely at that moment that I knew this would be no ordinary encounter.  They were aliens alright!  As I exited the woods and entered the clearing where they stood I got a better look at them.  Worse yet, I got a sniff of 'em.  Something wasn't quite right, to be sure.  A sulfurous, rank odor emanated from them and just about knocked me over.  Impulsively I got down on my knees and started begging for mercy.  I explained that I was just an average earthling, down on his luck to boot, and could really use a break.  The one that had said 'come' looked at the other, and then... and then... they busted out laughing!  This was no mere chuckle mind you.  Before I knew it they were rolling on the ground telling each other that their bellies hurt!  I stood up, suddenly feeling a bit more confident that I might actually survive this thing, which apparently moved them to get up and to regain their composure.  What they said next still chills me to the bone.  The smaller one, who hadn't spoken a word yet said:

'Look, all we really want is your beer and then we're outta here.'

I replied: 'But... I ... haven't got any.'

He said: 'Um, you don't understand fella.  Let me say this slowly: We are here to take all the b-e-e-r.  By the time we're done there will be no beer left on your planet earth.  You see, we have been picking up your amusing beer commercials from space for some time.  Now, we have nothing like beer where we come from...' 

At this point the other alien cuts in: 'Kudos, kudos to your marketing geniuses, creating a need in us that at one time did not exist.  We now MUST have this thing called beer.' 

The other picks back up: '(Ahem) As I was saying, we have no beer on Salos, and so we are here to take all of your Miller Lite...'

The first alien cuts in again: 'Less filling!' The other retorts back: 'Taste's great!'  'Less filling!'  'Taste's great!'  This goes on for thirty minutes!  Finally they break out laughing and then it's back on the ground again.  I think aloud to myself: 'What is this madness?  Have I gone utterly insane?  Surely this is a dream!  Wake up now, wake up now; one, two, three.'"  


"Jim?  Jim, who are you talking to now?" asks the nurse.

"Why, I'm... I'm talking to Sam Dumpty from National Geoplastic Magazine," I reply.

"So... you're talking to an egg.  Great!  Look Jim," she says, "there's no one there.  There is never anyone there.  It's all in your mind.  There is no such thing as aliens.  No Salos.  And I just had a Miller Lite with my boyfriend at dinner last night.  Please, get over it!  Have you taken your meds today?  Now I'm going to get Dr. Soong to come and make sure you're okay.  Be back shortly."

"Well, there you have it Mr. Dumpty.  The true, unabridged tale of what happened to me on October 21st, 1999.  I'd swear to it on my mother's grave!  And we both know that little miss nursey-nursey lied when she said she had a beer last night.  Earth has been beer-less since 1999.  No one has ever been able to explain the sudden disappearance of kegs, bottles, and cans of ale from this planet.  No one but me (sigh).  And for my troubles they've got me locked up in this stinking asylum.  But I know you believe me.  You do believe me, don't you...?"











   


Copyright © The Seeker | Year Posted 2016


Long poem by Suki Spangles | Details |

The Aliens' Roswell Conspiracy Theory Is Better Than Yours

Some aliens believe that the so-called Roswell crash
was fake.
So fake!
Fake, because, for one, their flying saucers are not capable of crashing,
and for two, because there is no intelligent life on earth!
Or even stupid life,
Or even really really stupid life,
Although some disagree,
And say that a little really really dreary stupid life might exist there.
But please don't quote me on that,
As I heard all this while having an out-of-body experience,
Like you do.
I had no poems to write that lunch break.

And as I floated above their planet,
(Actually I was in one of their bars),
I heard the alien conspiracists surmise:
How could our transcendental space cadets be taken by earth's military
when earth has no military?
Have you ever seen a earthling saucer leave orbit? Exactly!
Those rocket things are only photographic anomalies!
How can something shaped like a rocket even fly?
They aren't even round or oblong or triangle!
Sheesh..do I need to go on?
They smoked back another psychedelic octopus chaser,
While checking out the groovy penguin dancers rocking the HoloYacht magic carpets.
Yeah baby!

One alien conspiracist continued,
..so look closely at the so-called Roswell crash images,
Don't they all look so suspiciously staged,
Our military-abduction complex at it again,
Convincing us that intelligent life on that stupid planet exists,
All to steal my and your triffid credits -
All for their non-existent stupid trips.
Listen, none of our dolphins were even in that crashed saucer,
I bet they got plastic surgery and are living the high life in Arcturus;
Our emperor found out so got the laser in one of her two heads,
Front and to the right, front and to the right.
Ozwoz Zarvey was the patsy on the Platinum Hill,
Yet, the Xowzer was fired from the incarnation repository -
Snagg Ruby was their well-connected shill!

Earth: empty, barren, ugly,
With a poisonous atmosphere.
Those photos of pyramids,
Are just weathered rocks and shadows.
Now you tell me, how can anything live in an atmosphere of poisonous nitrogen?
How can any flowers grow without Helium 3, and diamond rain?
Didn't you go to science class Two Brains!?
You've been smoking too many of those drinks my orange haired friend.

What's more, the gravity on earth would flatten life like a pancake.
The oceans are full of weird blue water.
And there's not enough methane.
Now what in the name of our Goddess can live in water?
Not one plasma lake in sight!
And not one place on that godforsaken rock can escape
it's violent blinding moonlight.

Yeah, yeah we've read the reports:
Beings live there who have only one head (one head!) who can talk!
Animals with four legs that horizontally walk. Lol!
Give. Us. A. Break.
And get yourself an education before it's too late.
Wow check out that penguin on the left,
Ain't she gorgeous?
Man how I'd love to have hamsters with her..

Copyright © Suki Spangles | Year Posted 2016


Long poem by manek kohli | Details |

Moon

	
Moon 
---- 
 
 
Once night Gretta Foster sat in the backyard, 
building a rocket ship that ought to take her a-far, 
she had been working day and night - tirelessly, 
hammering, programming, all so dexterously. 
 
Then when the sun arose and sparkled in the sky, 
Gretta was still working, that too without a sigh, 
the ship was finally built, Gretta was on cloud nine, 
but going a bit farther up than that seemed rather fine. 
 
She sat inside the cockpit, tightened her seat belt, 
pushed a few buttons, with such admirable stealth, 
algorithms aplenty - all perfectly aligned, 
as the engine started roaring, boisterously alight. 
 
The rocket ascended at last, it set sail yonder, 
to the farthest frontier that this universe could conjure, 
and after it finally left the vivid atmosphere, 
Gretta was so happy, she let out a smiling tear. 
 
Days passed and she was put in catatonic sleep, 
immobile and still, immersed in lovely dreams, 
suddenly with a thud, the ship had landed still, 
She woke up instantly, with a newfound thrill. 
 
She wore the lunar suit, which she had stitched herself, 
opened up the bolted door and descended the metal steps, 
the moment she touched ground, she turned around, 
and got pleasantly surprised by what she found! 
 
A red-hatted impish elf, sat crossed leg, 
a large nosed fairy stood, munching on nutmeg, 
two rabbits bowed down to the rabbit goddess, 
and two more pressed her feet, in a soft caress. 
 
Gretta walked a step and heard the elf shout, 
"oh silly person, take that suit out!, 
we've got oxygen, plenty of em to breathe, 
that suits a waste o' time and energy!" 
 
Gretta obeyed, and unzipped the heavy suit, 
underneath she wore a dress - flowery and cute, 
"good going, young child, now lemme show you, 
this lovely wonderland which you dub the moon!" 
 
And the elf was right, they met unicorns, 
box-laden garden paths and joyous little fauns, 
walking and talking scarecrows, nursing little crows, 
small blue doll houses with chuckling gnomes. 
 
within a crater lived a colony of werewolves, 
but they were nice and fair - specially one named Ulf, 
he'd give her milk and tea with chocolate biscuits, 
and in order to keep her warm, red spotted mitts. 
 
The goddess too was nice, a wise and lovely soul, 
"be imaginative and create, but don't forget your goal", 
she'd also give her nutmeg of such abundant variety, 
her best friend was a Faun, so strong and mighty. 
 
and the Minotaurs build Gretta a lovely home, 
with a mushroom roof and walls build of foam, 
"stay here with us, Gretta, you'd have a great time", 
said the red-hatted elf while singing a rhyme. 
 
Gretta thought and thought, she came to a decision, 
she decided to stay for sure, she looked forward for her admission, 
and from thereon, life for her was perfected, 
all her dying wishes had suddenly been resurrected.
 

Copyright © manek kohli | Year Posted 2013


Long poem by Aa Harvey | Details |

Unknown enemy

Unknown enemy


In an alien world with three moons in the sky,
A luminous thing flies high in the air.
It looks like a pterodactyl,
But it has three heads and breathes fire.
My fellow soldiers and I are searching for resources,
Among the dead bodies; inside a spaceship called ‘The Debonair’.


It’s been here for over a hundred years;
But no man has been to this planet since.
It was just a coincidence that we heard its distress signal,
As we passed by, heading for Alpha Six.
Our home world we haven’t seen now,
For seven months and sixteen days.
But now we have a new mission:
Salvage what we can and bury the bodies in graves.


Sergeant Angelos is reading an elegy, to commemorate the dead;
While the scouts we sent our earlier, haven’t reported back yet.
The scouts are on gravity bikes looking for anything we can use,
But so far they have found nothing but volcanoes and rivers of sulfur…
But something has found them.


They didn’t know they were being followed as they returned to base.
There is a loud other-worldly scream in the distance
And we are all put on high alert.
“What the Hell was that Captain?  I don’t know Pike; 
Hit the dirt!”


A huge ball of blue light is flying straight towards the medi-bay;
Soldiers run this way and that and thankfully we are all safe.
But the medi-bay is destroyed by an alien weapon.
“Fire at will!”  Shouts the Captain,
 As strafes of bullet fire fly off into the distance,
In search of the alien.


“Where did it go?  Anybody see it?”
There is silence; then a shout.
“It’s there!  Two o’clock, beyond the red rocks!”
We all open fire and create a dust cloud.


As the dust disappears the Captain says:
“Did we get it?  Is it dead, or not?”
Before anyone can answer, there is another scream
And this time it comes from behind us.


“Oh my God!  This thing's got friends!
Round up the caravan’s lads, we’re hunkering down for the night.”
As the sky gets darker, more aliens surround us
And our bullets fire lighting up the sky.


Blue luminous fire rains down upon us and our barricade.
Our ground to air ship, takes a Hell of a beating,
But it’s been through worse than this in its days.


By morning light, the shooting has ended.
We all walk out our ground to air ship and see what we can find.
There are dead aliens all around us, seventy five in total.
The cheers and joy of our victory, 
Has been sullied by the number of our side who have died.
Fourteen gone from us; taken by an unknown enemy.
This is our job, our life, our fight and our destiny.


As we leave the planet behind, the memories stay with us.
We have conquered one enemy; 
Now we are heading home to our family and friends.
The people we do this for and the people we love.



(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © Aa Harvey | Year Posted 2016


Long poem by Tom Arnone | Details |

Sonnet 14, Part 3 of 3

Listen to poem:
11. They came to devour and sin.
I was briefed by a cornucopia of beings:
From Torchwood, ARGUS, SHIELD and their kin;
The Talamasca, The Shop and MiB Greens;
A BPRD agent who was burning in Hell;
The Syndicate, Consortium, Watchers and Trust;
The Illuminati brought a golden bell;
C.L.I.T.O.R.I.S., MHI (such knowledge robust).
The collider at CERN had opened the rift.
A nanoscopic tear in a monstrous dimension.
Worshipers, ever vigil, exploited that gift.
Now we must, utterly, curtail their ascension.
Then into the house she entered, shrugging.
There was a kiss and a hugging.

12. There was a kiss and a hugging.
Rescued from a cult in Ipswitch.
Her demeanor, ethereal, bugging.
She slept with a peculiar twitch.
My angst and attention will have to wait
For monster judication and portal castration.
Outside, we gathered, fearing our fate --
Awful things floated like blimps in formation.
By whatever means, we search in teams:
Arkham, Innsmouth, Dunwich and Salem;
CERN, Antarctica, the Nan Madol dreams;
Jerusalem's Lot, Beelitz-Heilstätten Asylum;
Transylvania and the Isle of Dead Creeple.
We worship a circular steeple.

13. We worship a circular steeple.
Time repeats when trapped in a vortex.
I'm driven to Brooklyn in a VW diesel.
A Tesla device in a Gravesend complex.
Bug-eyed tenants, oblivious, contemplate.
In the boiler room, it whirs and hums.
A competent team attempts to recalibrate
Until a big blobbish Shoggoth comes.
Then two ... and three. We scatter in fright.
The Shoggoths engorge and enfold the device;
But, not before a self-destruct is set alight.
The object destroyed; but, at such a steep price.
These things are here to herd the sheeple.
Soylent Green is made of people.

14. Soylent Green is made of people.
The rift at CERN has closed at last!
A major cleanup, and a mess of fecal.
Civilians clueless through a MiB blast.
The sun is out, the sky sublime.
I drive, antsy, anticlimactic, anticipating.
A return to normal space-time.
Sad goodbyes. Partnerships dissipating.
I hold her hand on the couch of gloom.
Stroking her witchy, Veronica Lake hair.
A warm wind kisses the flowers in bloom.
The radio's singing, cable's back on the air.
She hisses with a tooth-decaying smell.
Ripples in warm sunbeams dwell.

15. Ripples in warm sunbeams dwell.
A soul in flux begins to stall.
I meditate on a living well.
I pray the night may never fall.
A flicker blurs beyond my eye.
Softly she sits upon my knee.
A many-legged thing I spy,
My silent lady tries to flee,
It's a beautiful world we live in.
A hole in space needs plugging,
They came to devour and sin,
There was a kiss and a hugging,
We worship a circular steeple,
Soylent Green is made of people.

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016


Long poem by Tom Arnone | Details |

Sonnet 14, Part 2 of 3

Listen to poem:
6. Softly she sits upon my knee.
I doze and drift as the radio squeaks
Of sunspots and the honeybee.
The cab wind whistles and creeks.
I sense monstrous, hidden beings
Attempting to open forbidden portals
To hideous, evil, inhuman fiends,
Elder gods and insatiable immortals:
Kassogtha, incestuous sister of Cthulhu,
Craving worship and flesh to devour --
Shub-Niggorath, Ghast and Gug, too.
And what of the Mi-go in space at this hour?
The cabby awakens my dream to deny,
A many-legged thing I spy.

7. A many-legged thing I spy,
That swiftly creeps the fences.
My silent honey starts to cry
As sleep restores the senses.
In designated, remote locations,
Misshapen, proto-human forms
Recite blasphemous invocations,
Starting Tesla portal storms:
At the Transantarctic Mountains,
To the Lost City of Pnakotus;
At R'lyea's nightmare fountains,
To Yemen, Babylon and Memphis.
In subterranean caverns at the LHC,
My silent lady tries to flee.

8. My silent lady tries to flee.
I force an Oxy down her throat.
The phone is dead; no net, TV.
A car horn sounds a bleating goat.
I sit with her on the couch of gloom.
It's a hard day's night to be resting.
Recalling a pleasant Beatles' tune
When a bump at the door ... testing.
Three shark-eyed strangers, swaying.
She has risen, bloated, not right.
They crash through the door, decaying.
I'm immobilized by greenish light.
They molest her with unspeakable sin.
It's a beautiful world we live in.

9. It's a beautiful world we live in.
That Devo lyric the sound I hear.
Repeating cycles of Yang and Yin.
Darkness consumes light in fear.
Wrought from multi-infiniverse string:
Voyager probes sing DNA pattern;
Kong is the eighth wonder world King;
Flying parallel the rings of Saturn;
Andre the Giant, Bismuth crystals;
Jupiter spins its great red spot;
Machu Picchu, Yellowstone thistles;
Red bananas and old Martian snot;
Pyura chilensis (living rocks loving).
A hole in space needs plugging.

10. A hole in space needs plugging.
That's what I saw; but, I must have been dreaming.
Alone. Angry. That vicious mugging.
A connection to others who can see this scheming.
Why now? Perhaps, a rare cosmic alignment;
A natural or premeditated dimensional break.
The solution is clear: capture and confinement.
With senses enhanced, I cause allies to wake.
Thankfully, most of the planet has yet to succumb.
She was taken by monsters, forcibly -- or, voluntarily.
I wait patiently, in misery, for smarter ones to come.
Save for insanity, the Summer day proceeds ... warily.
The room is crowded with new friends who begin:
They came to devour and sin.

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016


Long poem by cherl dunn | Details |

THE DEVIL'S TRIANGLE


Three points of ionic invisibility, drawn off the charted map
Of realism or reality, the calibrated compass spins out of 
Control, then suddenly freezing at polar northern degree!
Within the gravitational shift, a rippling vibrational influxes 
Occurs, ceasing time in a stalemates chest move, slats angles
Become uninclined, and mankind’s constant universal theory,
Is turned inside outside, and outside in!
Aftershocks echoing reverberation, vibrates against the
Broadband network rocking it senseless, the tensile strength
Of reality is shaken to its inner deepest core!
Abnormalities anomalous door has been swung shut,
And at its thresholds pivot center lies the heart of the
Devils triangle, beware hells gates left wide open!
A supernatural supersonic blast in abstract form,
Contracting and retracting at the very fabric of the
Spatial time continuum, pulling them backwards tightly,
In a slingshots earth shuddering motion!
Then suddenly releasing the bow string, this arrow of
Time suspension is shot forwards, interrupting the equal
Ends of our planetary polarized capes, the global antistructure
Is knocked off the grid!
Sonars study screen, blips into unsettled waves of vibration,
Unto the known surrenders upon the unknown realm of
Unrealism, in this split seconds finite moment of utter stilled
Silence, something eerie happens, the materialistic disappears,
Without evidences residual trace, can it be an abyssal vortex,
Or a rogue waves giant aquatic claw retracting!
In this unidimensional limbo field, no puzzle piece quite fits
The void of space left behind, humanity’s intelligence is unable
To comprehend what has happened, behold the final deadened zone,
Of the unnatural and undefined!
What coalition’s collision can cause this much powers refraction,
Where lights suspension is faster than the speeding bullet’s
Sounding, the undecidable throngs of the theoretical hypostasize
At these questions of the unknown!
But in the eyes of humanity we are left in awes amazement,
At the Bermuda Triangles sheer raw force of power,
Beneath the waves of this elliptical seas of knowledge,
Humanity is just a child of simplicities simple thoughts,
Captured within its cradle of universal growth,
In times crawling motion we’ll learn slowly to walk,
Then to stand upright, amongst the orbiting giants 
Beyond our earth bondage's reach!
But in the devil’s triangle, we are but inept whales unable to
Breech for the breathing, maybe in the futuristic future will finally
Take in the refreshing air of the divine tides of Aquatic Sea of infinite
Knowledge!

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

 



Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015


Long poem by cherl dunn | Details |

THE HAUNTED HOLLOWEEN

It is the magic held within the darkness, the whispering of the night winds,
Echoing through haunted graveyards, cast are thus ancient spells, illuminated
Beneath the harvest full moon, in this eerie landscape the underworld is 
Released, and the undead are free to walk amongst the living, mingling on
This sacred holiday of mysticism, and it is so called, Halloween.
In the ethereal shadows figures move with shades dark eloquence,
As ghostly phantoms enchant the souls of the innocent, passions
Pleasures soothes the hearts of sadness, for tonight the very air itself
Is magical, offering a moments release for the spiritually condemned,
Until the last stroking bong of midnight, is heard off in the distance.
Sorcery's wicked witchy women, fly by sources unseen power of the
Supernatural, cackling with laughter's wild sounding of the jackal, do
They weave their intricate incantation's, to capture their victim's of hearts desire.
Blooming on the mountain side, the wolf bain does blossom, and hidden
Beneath its evergreen leaves, is the star gazer dressed within wolves
Furry garments, howling love sick, unto his ill fated mate, she so answers
With screams reply, and the pack adds another member, and now
These forbidden lovers run together, beside the path of humanities kindred.
Mischievous tricksters are they; poltergeists playing trick or treats pranks,
Vaporous creatures whom thoroughly enjoy frightening humanity unto 
Their inner most core.
But heed my warning dear friend; call no priest, for blessing sake for
These demons of mists, shall reek, havocs vengeance upon thee, 
Instead leave them well enough alone.
A twisted fellow is Mr. Jack-O-Lateran, appearing body less, with his head
Impaled upon fencing’s spike, what a Gringrichy grimace does he so make,
As a candles light aglow shines from within, his mounted handled top hat,
Exposing the freakish smile on his orange pumpkin face.
The vamperic ring master, on this night of horrors terror, welcomes the unwary
Traveler, to take part in this celebration extravaganza, come one and come all.
Let us so partake in these evenings’ festivities, El Carnival, 
As the children of the night, serenade mankind in the back ground,
Beyond our earthy realm.
As the mornings first rays of light, brush their finger tips across the
Horizon's canvas, the darkness is banished once again, creeping 
Beneath the under belly of the sun, as all evil creatures melt, and fading
Within the shades hollows, until next years celebration takes place once
More, on this darkest of holidays, called Halloween.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014


Long poem by Tom Arnone | Details |

Sonnet 14, Part 1 of 3

Listen to poem:
1. Ripples in warm sunbeams dwell.
From a sandy cocoon I wake and stir.
A floater in the blue does knell,
A dot, a stain, a blackened blur.
Am I the only one who sees?
No, the beach is afoot with myriad peeps.
The knell is deep -- a woofer wheeze.
A transient blot that fades and creeps,
Until it is vanished and we all take a seat.
I gather my belongings, pining for home.
An odd Summer chill swirls the waning heat.
A disquiet, discomfort invades my bones.
Driving like ants, mindless, small.
A soul in flux begins to stall.

2. A soul in flux begins to stall.
On the cool of an evening breeze,
We listen for the cicadas' call,
Lighted by the firefly trees.
"They're disappearing," so she speaks.
"The birds, the fish and the honeybee."
My disquiet returns with an odorous reek.
I shamble in for beer and tea.
We retire to the living room
To watch a passive, virtual play.
On a couch that sinks into the gloom,
A strange perception has its way:
An eerie change that has befell.
I meditate on a living well.

3. I meditate on a living well
Through oceans of calm and chaos,
To deep depths where Dagon fell.
My teeth bleed of paste and floss.
The news is grim, the weather bright.
Two automatons breakfast in business style --
My eggs and bacon, her vegan delight.
Commuting to work from our secret isle.
Yes, a change -- imperceptible, queer.
A singular irritation of the masses.
An impossible shift in the magnetosphere.
The populace don their blocking glasses.
Stubborn separation and a promise to call.
I pray the night may never fall.

4. I pray the night may never fall.
In an outdoor cafe, absent of her,
A fish-eyed woman loosens her shawl
To an odd-smelling wisp of ocean liqueur.
The coffee cools in Creamsicle light.
Up in the sky I spot crosses.
Still no sign of my better sprite.
Some things land in saucers.
The city appears dimensionally off.
An amazing woman crosses the street.
"What happened, my love?" I cough.
"I can't ... remember," in deadpan greet.
I hold her close, without reply.
A flicker blurs beyond my eye.

5. A flicker blurs beyond my eye.
Cafe 14 shrinks in the rearview beams
Of the cab where I breathe a sigh.
A curious fly flits hither and preens.
She has not uttered a sound since 14.
There are people in the street disrobing.
The scenery swells, offensive, obscene.
A mist on the Hudson rises, disturbing.
I see ... things on the Bridge,
Across bumpy roads in disrepair.
Odors pervade like a forsaken fridge.
The Isle of Coney is drawing near.
Into the darkness we three....
Softly she sits upon my knee.

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016


Long poem by charles hice | Details |

Eightynine

 Eightynine 
Eightynine 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
FearsRelived 
 
FearsReleave 
 

Main Entry: relieved Function: adjective Date: 1850: experiencing 
or showing relief especially from anxiety or pent-up emotions 
— re•liev•ed•ly  \-ˈlē-vəd-lē\ adverb Relive One entry found. 
relive 
Main Entry: re•live   
Pronunciation: \(ˌ)rē-ˈliv\ Function: verb 
Date: 1548 intransitive verb 
: to live againtransitive verb: to live over again; especially : to experience 
again in the imagination Releave must be an adjective or mabe just a noun eye 
frown as some of my flock of followers must do at some of the spellings eye 
make of words that have been spelled this way for at least six years. Main Entry: 
reweave  Reweave can be found at Merriam-WebsterUnabridged.com. Reweave 
is the way ELMER GLUEALL says RELEAVE. OH FUDD. WAIT. Releave looks 
just like a real word does it not class. This is the reason we have school idint it 
so fun. Some professors get a case of nerves when something like this typo 
occurs but eye as a Lewis type teacher make inroads of nuances the words 
flowing in the desert places like oasis of stasis static ornaments near Colorado 
Boulder. There was this episode of Mork and Mindy where the EGG went flying 
and OH my it landed hard.  The memory gets better when you stop. Just give it 
some more time to regenerate the Christ is GOD. People are idiots in there 
dealings with other people. Scientific evident escaped the masses when they 
chose to witness to the escaping gases of the sublime whiskey beer farts given 
time they may recover the couches with upholsters from the hang over guns of 
the cowboy trudges. TO: the eviloushonist life is just a reactored accidental 
inflated accident. The worthless people who run the behind the scenes at the 
internet places aer too blame they aer too flaming strang. There is a 
misconcepting theorem that people do what other people think the truth is that 
people do the impossible things that no one does or even thinks of like getting 
up from a day of boredom and going on to see what finding means to see what 
living does. Please do not feel let down or depressed or put upon eye tired to 
make this fabel work without an idea of any kind without a premises without a 
forum places without much hope of even rhyme this thing is done this is quite 
enought for now please stay tuned and keep me ici and come back its 
SATURDAY the next one will be formed on SUNDAY when the author has more 
time. 


Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2008


Long Poems