Long Annual Poems
Long Annual Poems. Below are the most popular long Annual by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Annual poems by poem length and keyword.
You are gone
You remembered my birthday for easily fifty years
Every October without fail a card and in later years
An optional call or text.
Where is your annual autumnal greeting today?
This bright sunny afternoon …….
I would expect to hear from you tonight-
But you are gone
No more birthday wishes from you again
I got the news yesterday that the health insurance money
Was lodged in my bank
Thank you for the present but I’d rather you present than the money
It couldn’t have been both – so I’d prefer if it was you
If only there’d been one last summer holiday here with you
To try and convince you to see sense-
To save you from this avoidable death
But why go on - why waste my breath?
Yes - you are gone
No more birthday wishes from you again
Aquatic colossus breaches with elation,
crystalline baubles spray towards
periwinkle skies as casting flukes sway.
In expanse of brine play the descendants
of millennia old warriors; their songs
eco among the macrophyte gardens.
They know the secrets of ancient sailors,
these Balaenoptera musculus in their clan-pods
carry the wisdom of unknown worlds within Gaia’s
womb. A harmonic constitutional for these
hearts of compassion, the annual migration
will glean offspring to carry on the tradition
and guardianship of esoterica; this star
has come far and whispered her secrets
only to the wise ones.
4-22-2021
ALL YOURS (Apr 23) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
Sensual cyborgs are rare in New York City
Spaceship brought her because she was terribly witty
Her goal was to get close to this world’s president
He had been left for dead in this waste, an annual event
Out with the old, on with the new, agreed by a world pact.
She had studied these creatures, so she knew how to act.
Her mission was clear; she was well kneed and up to the task.
Enemy combatants would be well fooled, she wore a keen mask.
Soldiers at every check point thought she was a cat from a house.
When in fact she was no hooker, instead Commander B. Crouse.
She had proven her prowess and skills in espionage and spying.
She was revered all over the planet, leaving many men crying.
She gave the guard at the President’s door a wink and a nod.
He reached for her headlights, so she quickly laid him dead like a cod.
She whisked Mr. President safely away in the middle of the night
Interplanetary council displayed him, adding a yellow spotlight.
He was so grateful to be saved, he told them secrets of earth.
They memorized them gladly, these aliens from Planet O Perth.
Commander B. Crouse was deemed the head of the council and more
She never again had to risk her life or pretend to be a common wh.....
Hence no surprise... yes
recherché rhetorical flourish(es) impress,
yet mine deliberate vocabulist predilection,
I haint gonna stress
aforementioned quirk
also includes zero apr
(annual percentage rate),
may be subject with excess
sieve jejune ennui pullulating Kudzu like
indecipherable haphazard gobbledygook mess
abhorrent brashness claptrap discouraging
further harrowing progress
into thicket of verbiage, perhaps...
unwittingly encountering Loch Ness
cheesy Munster gussied up as...
transgender logophile, alias Hermann Hesse,
which obvious immediate
long winded atavistic feature will
allow, enable, and provide
dead giveaway clue to guess,
whether yours truly be
mouse or man (chess
champion) meandering along
stream of consciousness,
whereby succumbing to wordiness helpless
(fear not coronavirus,
nor other mortal affliction)
even if exuding fifty shades of gray pus,
the only bonafide surefire
holistic, iambic, therapeutic... recourse
I reluctantly, lamely, and feebly confess
to ameliorate slogging thru
metaphorical marsh cress,
(a veritable poetic nightmare)
volunteer self as unsuspecting to acquiesce
(lest no lifetime allowance
courtesy United States mint printing press),
whereat Impractical Jokers profess
gut wrenching, humiliating, insulting...
pranks, albeit dudes harmless
(think) only psychological state at risk else
suffer interminable, objectionable, unutterable...
mother (ƒµ©****) eternal duress
unbeknownst to thee multisyllabic
stranger vowel things in consonant
essentially Mattspeak trumpeting
as sesquipedalianism (the lesser of twee vols)
temporarily rendering, manifesting
sudden impulse to emulate... me,
and damaging basic cognitive process.
The stately ash by the fence that provided welcome summer shade,
Has exchanged its sheltering leaves of opulent jade,
To don an elegant golden robe for a few short-lived days.
Its brilliance is enhanced by the sun's mellow autumn rays.
October winds took their toll exposing bole and limbs so stark,
Revealing uplifted arms as if in supplication from its wrinkled bark.
Where once upon my emerald lawn, frisky squirrels skittered,
Now, with a golden carpet, my sloping lawn is littered.
A wizened "hooty owl" has claimed the treetop as its aerie,
Silhouetted against a harvest moon, creating a scene so eerie.
Mellow moonbeams caress the tree forming a delicate shadow,
That creeps across the lawn as the moon flaunts its nocturnal show!
A family of robins that nested in the tree providing me with delight,
Have long since departed on their annual southerly flight.
Sturdy limbs where chattering finches put on a grand show,
Will soon be adorned with glistening garlands of snow.
Tho' each autumn the foliage from the ash will disappear,
And its outstretched limbs now present a picture so austere,
I'm confident that the ever-caring Creator this coming spring,
Will again adorn my tree in green for another season's fling!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Well, it's half-past September.
Autumn and Fall are having their annual jurisdictional dispute
As to boundaries and length of contract.
The leaves are either burnt, flaming, a-flame,
Blushing, scarlet, rosy, rusty, reddish, or foxy.
The pumpkins are waiting for Charlie Brown and Linus to show,
The Witches Coven Convention will convene at month’s end.
The flowers are retreating, slowly, each hoping to linger
Into one more warming sunrise.
A few diligent honey bees wait to greet them.
School buses hunt for unwary children.
Books bid them “come, join me,
Let us travel past the crusted cover into the realm of the imagination”.
A thin crust of ice will soon silence the pond.
September, caught between the aura of Autumn and the fire of Fall,
Smiles as its gentle breezes call the tune.
In a town in West Virginia,
The annual parade,
A holiday tradition,
Was to be differently portrayed.
For the brand-new mayor, wanting
To make all feel they belonged,
Changed the Christmas parade to Winter,
But most residents felt they’d be wronged.
It’s a sticky tricky topic
Coming up this time of year
For so many who celebrate Christmas
Make their thoughts unmistakably clear.
“Happy Holidays” simply won’t cut it
And a “Winter” parade just won’t do;
Even if there’s still Santa and reindeer
Changing “Christmas” is simply taboo.
So the mayor gave in to her critics
And the Christmas parade will proceed
Though the locals would never have changed it
In their minds or their hearts – guaranteed.
Summer Host a Jamboree
Summer hosts a party – a JAMBOREE!
Sends out engraved floral invitations
Annual pageant ~ ~ ~ blooms wear filigree
Ruffled pansies…deep purple impatiens.
Poppies perform - these highway troubadours
Butterscotch daisies festoon o p e n roads,
Popcorn blooms BuRsT – celebration’s UP-roar!!!
Music :) merriment :), through coral bells flows.
A fiesta of flowers twirl in jubilees
Dandelion meadows - ^_^ galas of golds
Waves of colors sway in sunflower seas
Carnivals of roses in crimsons u n f o l d s
Coming out party - a lavish $oiree -
So much to celebrate each summer day.
Pumpkin pie and gingerbread men smell sweet.
Their perfume fills my nostrils and creates stories
in my imagination.
Peppermint Pipers songs dance across my taste buds;
hot chocolate and cinnamon fresh scents mingle with a towering scotch pine filled with glass globes
and candy canes.
My memory recalls the succulent scent of cookies,
freshly baked and waiting for us kids.
Pull-candy, buttery and so melt-in-your-mouth creamy
that it coated my tongue like some food-of-the-gods.
Aunts who could bake their way around the world,
bringing tasty treats for our annual Christmas dinner;
we kids knew that dessert would be a sensation.
How could it taste any better than this?
After the reading of the Christmas story,
came the opening of presents.
My great Aunt always fell asleep after dinner;
she’d awaken to us kids screaming with elation
as we opened the vibrantly colored boxes.
My parent’s always stressed the joy of giving
so sometimes, we made our gifts;
they were enjoyed just as much as the store bought ones.
Sometimes, generosity is found in, the simplest of gifts;
it takes so little to spread joy.
Somehow it’s now late April and the things we can’t control,
The mysteries of Spring, they’re gonna rock, they’re gonna roll.
The same goes for divorces and the bills we’ll have to pay,
But since we’re on the road, let’s take the cherry tree way.
We’ll need to make some changes; let the lawyers have their say.
We’ve come this far together; now it’s time we walked away.
Seems nothing lasts forever; not tomorrow, not today,
But if we’ve made our choice, let’s take the cherry tree way.
The overcast above us and the drizzle coming down
Can’t seem to dim the beauty of those blossoms all around.
They stun me with the glory of their annual display,
So baby, one last time, let’s take the cherry tree way.