Long Anticlimax Poems
Long Anticlimax Poems. Below are the most popular long Anticlimax by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Anticlimax poems by poem length and keyword.
(The Virgin Mary’s Child - Brothers Grimm)
There was an old man with an axe,
Enough food to feed lass, he lacks.
Lass to Virgin Mary,
Heaven keys lass carry,
Lots of snacks, banishment anticlimax.
There was a door of number thirteen,
Forbidden entry with keys, remains unseen,
Teen instead of tot,
Behaved as lass ought,
Lies untold, with family convene.
Or maybe, Mary believed the fib,
Lass gained fat beyond a mere rib,
Felt guilt for the lie,
Did not want to die,
She protected her Heavenly bib.
Perhaps Mary sent her back to be poor,
Disobedience made the Virgin sore.
Lass killed wood prey,
Hard work every day,
She enjoyed it, continued evermore.
(Mr. Fox - English folk tale by Joseph Jacobs)
Lady Mary covets the handsome Fox,
Admittance to his lair harder than entry to Fort Knox,
She does not break in,
The evil groom will win,
Honeymoon, as bride slaughter, is indeed unorthodox.
Perhaps Lady Mary did visit the Fox castle,
Murdered women was not seen as a hassle,
Lady made a list,
Crumpled it in fist,
All the more foes to imprison and space to bedazzle.
(Fairy Mary - Tinker Bell Series)
There was a fairy who kept order and was stout,
She kept her fairy foes working and about,
Not well-liked,
Imagine spiked,
Efficiency useful, but it doesn’t erase doubt.
Maybe there was a beloved fairy instead,
Who hardly ate for all the work in her head,
Toothpick thin,
Fakeful grin,
Her smile only true while passed out in her bed.
(Queen Mary I aka “Bloody Mary” aka Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary)
The Queen punished Protestants fierce,
Each body, another garden plot and pit pierce,
Tombstones are flowers,
Made by monarch powers,
Carriages carry corpses, require no hearse.
Rows of tools fill each station,
Bodies attached from many a nation,
Protestants in droves,
Some missing clothes,
Whatever befits their cause for damnation.
The Holy Mother of Poet would not approve,
Such speak of my mouth, with soap, she would remove,
Beliefs absolute!
Heresy! Refute!
Even a heartfelt apology could not opinion improve.
Many gardens consist of a collection,
Often of things or organisms that elicit affection,
Small changes will appear,
Light, dark, always near,
Owner’s perspective could require dissection.
researching, watch the trailer, work in progress...
Screwtape Letters
31 Letters
Just notes
Consider this...
If you cannot yield to text and scripture
He cannot bare score
C L takes us where?
Two years. studies of Greek and Latin classics
What we cannot see in the spiritual world
Screwtape, Devil, The Father Below
in an ice cubicle
mans is all around him
To love or Not to love God
This is the choice He's given man
and it works for The Devil as well
His nephew Wormwood
Lower Archy must be taught!
The Patient, agnostic
does convert to Christianity
He can't see that spiritual side
not from the museum in its library
he is sensible
Togas and sandals? Ah!
Largely pictorial, anticlimax
Let-downs
Letter #3
Goal: Patient and mother
How to poison the relationship
Poison the mind of the patient's mother
Self-examination, can't you here yourself?
Perceptive, weakness's
malice for each other
the key here is to cause
both to be annoyed
inflame, focus on the soul (defects)
and not the pain itself
The devil is a liar, don’t believe Screwtape
Letter#17
'One human Wormwood guide'
Triful naive arguments
A dozen incompatible
Jargon not argument
Material things Stark or courageous
Argument lets God argue as well
Twisted thoughts occur
Dawn hurls
Wet dark clouds;
Hidden sun beams
~~~~~~~~~
Rain pours
Wetness paints well;
Greenery revives
~~~~~~~~~
Umbrellas open
Random feet rush;
Rain escalates
~~~~~~~~~
Dreary weather
Coldness wets;
Watery puddles everywhere
~~~~~~~~~
Drenching aqua
Windy wild wetness;
Stormy morning
~~~~~~~~~
Bus-stop shelter
People cluster;
Cold humanity
~~~~~~~~~
Happy faces
Cold morning rain;
Childish frolic
~~~~~~~~~
Old newspaper vendor
Walkway corner;
Makeshift stand
~~~~~~~~~
Bearish feelings loiter
Talk of hard times;
Weak economy
~~~~~~~~~
Bad news again
Abrupt change pours;
Stress flings climax
~~~~~~~~~
Hunting prey
Pray for success;
Paradoxical
~~~~~~~~~
Words work wonders
Telling times;
Anticlimax booms
~~~~~~~~~
January jumps
Cheeky cascades;
Tough tensile treats
~~~~~~~~~
Laughter lifts
Sensuous sway;
Dizzy dazzle
~~~~~~~~~
Plumeria blooms
Wet rainy blur;
Hidden agendas
~~~~~~~~~
Simple sensations
Coldness escalates;
Shivering wetness
~~~~~~~~~
Words echo
Feelings etch;
Fresh aqueous day
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
23 January 2017
Singapore
Goodbye then.
We have closed the book and
replaced it on the shelf.
Dog eared pages straightened.
Tens of thousands of words
read, spoken, stored for posterity.
Goodbye then.
No longer a working title,
but an archive which will
gather dust in the annals of time.
Maybe one day to be discovered,
like some ancient tomb.
Goodbye then.
Remember when we began the story?
The newness, the excitement and
anticipation at what would unfold.
Spellbound by adventure, mesmerized
by speculation as each word became exposed.
Goodbye then.
All done. Story complete.
No more surprises, just the
anticlimax of finality.
The eerie silence of conclusion.
A lingering pause, one last look, a smile -
The end.
Adoration and the forbidden fruits are deceiving,
anticipations of whishing fields delusion.
Knowing that the anticlimax comes with a frost,
above the wisdom of true believes just tossed.
Purgatory is that state of mental expiating,
when that ideal holds the key to relating.
That interconnected process of tapestry as force,
malleable dreams that need a plan of source.
Regarding all life as sacred at once,
thinking of that sphere as treasure in response.
The kiss as intellectual chemistry to fuse,
liberation of mundane to become the divine use.
Sensual alchemy creating a fragrance to taste,
portals of imagination to easy to paste.
The child like heart in contact of magic,
spectrums of aware sensitivities without tragic.
That dancing spirit of a dreaming soul alerts,
among the whispers from other worlds.
The vehicle of truth and reality is build to roam
for the subtle and simple road to take us home.
I lay down to sleep
with the lovely lilts of rain
and the soft whisper of wind in my ears
At some unearthly hour
wakened up from sleep
by howls and shrieks
I don’t know when the rain and wind
turned into a tumultuous roar
and why I failed to notice
the windows turning on their hinges
and the doors snap open and shut
When I woke up, I saw
the land inundated
trees arm twisted and splintered
hanging limp in lifeless mass
beleaguered by wind's foul game
and the leaves still shedding
drops of tears!
( This happened yesterday night)
Sep.1.2022
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Edna Purcell
1912-1930
Dying a virgin was the least of my regrets.
Dying a chaste woman at 18 seemed a moot point.
I remember watching my momma die.
It was in summer, and I was 16.
Hopelessly disconsolate, that’s how I felt;
How would I live without her?
Why was she so cruelly taken from me?
How did she get so sick?
My demise, then, was the anticlimax of my short sad life.
Oh cruel Fate, you!
I despise your insatiable appetite for shattered lives;
Indeed, I spit on you for all the ill-timings and bad luck.
I spit on your wry smile, lurking there,
Behind the shadowy trellis,
Of private episodes with flowers and silk;
You, with those arrogant knowing glances,
Those imploding muscular arms of private desperation.
I died a virgin indeed, never having you,
Died with an empty heart and a reeling soul.
Life was just a foolish grab for nothing;
Always seeming to have enough,
But always wanting much more.
That was life, my life in this quiet religious town.
So, I died a virgin in 1930. I was 18.
Too late for me, I guess.
All I wanted, was to spit in your face!
Oh cruel Fate, wrecker of dreams!
Poetic Form: Rhyme/Footle/Shape or Concrete
Inspired: 2024 January 09. As per sample supplied by sponsor.
. "When Each
Man woman, and child
are not born to be wild
there will be love and
laughter and peace
ever after. When
hate ceases
to be, free
. we will
all be
X" ~~Quote by The Poet~~
Couplet - Rhyme:
Friends respond,
Transcends go beyond.
Missing piece,
Kissing release.
Needs prayer,
Seeds fair,
Sew strong,
Grow belong,
Peace resumes,
Cease booms.
Footle:
Peace
Release
Unarm
No Harm
Calm
Psalm
Pure
demure
anticlimax
Relax
Love
One above
dream
scheme
moonbeam
stream
gleaming
beaming
tranquility
ability
faith
Wraith
Transcend
Befriend
Shape:
A L
E. x L.
W x P
. x R
P x x x A
E x x x Y.
A x x x R
C x O
E. * F