Long Appall Poems
Long Appall Poems. Below are the most popular long Appall by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Appall poems by poem length and keyword.
Her wind blew the castle down
she asked me to give her work a call
I did, she called in sick that's all
how bad was that to see me fall
smitten with her mindless appall
to her, i was a seal to bounce a ball
with, off my nose so she could squall
playing the mouse game with glee and gall
baiting me with cheese to see me come to a crawl
for her to say call me then hymn and haw
that was bad day, it makes a person sprawl
and ask for answers why she be so small
then I did ask, it was like talking to a wall
where i go in life the shadows of her pall
won't resign me into being her rag-doll
or being the subject of her phantom drawl
in poems where she hitches to sad rainfall
a rainfall of tears i see not, i see her thrall
to reel in her fish, me, so she could enthrall
the spells now be broken for no longer i'm befall
with her river of grief of being behind the eight ball
connie pachecho
2/8/17
Here I stood, drenched with idiosyncrasy of evil rain;
Utterly dazed by what was said to be brightness,
Yes! I was poked in the eye by the dazzling lights of the terrain,
And I kept on swimming in the withered waters of wilderness.
I gave myself in, and was being smashed on an anvil just to go wasted.
Admonishing instincts gave me a cavil, but the fan for life, I really wanted.
Everything was okay, but the air, was it really soothing?
Oh no! I believe there was no fun to it at all.
What there was to it was really making me appall.
Now, I am overwhelmed with joy for I am king.
I was made king when He tapped me on the shoulder with affinity;
When I gave in and admitted it was all vanity.
He never cast me to doom though I was a slave of doom.
A new day I have seen, and will never get intimidated by gloom.
People glower; horns get louder -
I wonder why a drive so dour
was ever termed rush hour.
.
Dollars followed by point 99
Are dollars with one more assigned.
Retailers think shoppers math blind.
Business phones in America evolved
With English as option, not default,
Like a blond joke saw phones solved.
In the USA, I cannot afford to die
So place my body atop funeral rates
Until they pass sky for heaven-high.
Halloween is marketed in July,
Followed by Christmas in August –
Greed's gone awry, I won't comply.
Medical care doesn’t care at all,
Should be re-termed medical gall
As many are ill from medical appall.
The law fits fine if one is rich,
Others needing a justice hit
Need a thief’s help to pay for it.
Let me end my sad word hurl
As born in my dramatic world:
Hyperbole debris, reality decreed.
Tomorrow We Remember
By Franklin Price
9/10/2016
Tomorrow we remember
With solemn thoughts recall
The horror of that morning
We would watch the towers fall
Standing high and mighty
They were the tallest of the tall
Would be standing there forever
We would watch the towers fall
Was a beautiful blue morning
Would be ruined by the gall
Of an unspeakable act of terror
We would watch the towers fall
One plane into each tower flew
Each with hellish fire ball
Exploding there on impact
We would watch the towers fall
In just the blinking of an eye
Manhattan covered by a pall
Thousands dead or would be dying
We would watch the towers fall
Into the mayhem heroes came
Responding to the call
To rescue anyone they could
We would watch the towers fall
As we witnessed on TV
Minds reeling with appall
Felt the need for retribution
As we watched the towers fall
Fifteen years have come and gone
Tomorrow painful for us all
Remembering just where we were
When we watched the towers fall
As the sun set, a dare unfolds
Black streaks tinged with orange and gold
One lone swimmer jumps and fast falls
In the dark abyss, maybe pall
Dark sea waters, quickly enfolds
Will he rise, or on death's threshold
Never heaven's beauty behold
Deeper into waters appall
As the sun set
Arise, oh, swimmer, break the mould
Look to the sky its blue grab hold
In the water, one dot so small
All the angels can hear the wrawl
Remember the view, a jump bold
As the sun set
Written: August 14, 2018
Picture # 3 the inspiration!
Roman dignity, what has happened to it all?
This month of March has been something to appall.
I cannot believe our esteemed senators
could possibly become murderous conspirators.
The body of our beloved Gaius Julius
lies bloodied and mutilated before us.
What an act so dastardly and atrocious!
Among the murderers are Marcus Brutus.
Included is his brother-in-law Cassius Longinus.
Another assassin is Servilius Casca.
You also tell me there is Lucius Cornelius Cinna.
How diseased and decrepit is this body politic!
Graft and corruption have ravished the republic!
This murder will lead to acts that are more terrible.
Further bloodshed and civil war appear inevitable.
I'm known to most as Dandelion.
Love me or hate me, I'm just fine!
My seedlings sprout- pale leaves incline
to grow a long, dark-toothed design.
As they enlarge, spread on the ground-
(so good for salads, some have found),
a rosette forms from leaves rewound;
mature plant now- soon to be crowned.
Atop my stem, which shoots up tall,
twelve inches, max- no leaves at all,
comes crowning glory (some appall),
bright, yellow flower, I install!
Within my crown, brown fruit will grow;
thin oval and extension, go
inside my pappus, soon to show
white fluffy hairs, assigned to blow.
And now the part, (some hate the most),
from fruit to seed, hairs leave this host;
by wind or friction, hundreds coast-
plant on your lawns! (I smile and boast!).
March 31, 2019
~1st Place~
Contest: A Strand (1057)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 01/22/2022
~2nd Place~
Contest: Dandelions
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Judged: 04/17/2019
Theme: Multiple Phases Of Dandelions
Five Stages: seedlings, mature plant,
flower, fruit, seed
I was a little girl with a tattered ragdoll,
and I lived in an attic that was not tall;
in fact, there were parts where I had to crawl.
I liked to play make-believe till nightfall,
and write- so I wrote on the wall;
listening to dreamy gentle rainfall . . .
and on that wall, oh yes, I did scrawl.
Then in the morning I heard Mom call,
she beheld my wall writing in great appall;
oh yes indeed, it was my curtain-call . . .
Mom left and returned with a can of spray Lysol.
I want you to clean it and I mean all,
and went away muttering- I was a bit oddball;
so I cleaned it and then lay on my bed, I recall
crying and holding my tattered doll.
____________________
February 8, 2017
Poetry/Rhyme/A Bit "Oddball"
Copyright Protected, ID 17-873-515-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
*Image of Stringer Davis and Margaret Rutherford by Fanpop.
Miss Marple's Nephew's Double Mysteries
~~0~~
Agatha Christie,
Agatha Christie slights through half her years,
pens a fictional, Miss Marple,
a Miss Jane Marple by her peers,
Agatha's best sleuth qualities had a nephew,
a nephew named Raymond
not into crime stuff like his aunt,
not like his aunt who'd felt him as Rainman,
though he thought much of the world,
the world he thought of much,
~~0~~
such as the Death Valley Sailing Stones,
stones sailing by magic touch?
some stones are seven hundred pounds,
seven hundred pounds some stones are,
wintertime,
wintertime flats fill with little quantities of rainwater that freezes so far,
day's sun melts the ice splitting it into sheets,
into sheets, they're splitting,
desert winds hit the stones that slip and slide,
slide and slip making results fitting.
~~0~~
and in Raymond's follow-up study he did of Richard III
death and all,
death and all?
after his remains were found, his head was bashed repeatedly,
bashed repeatedly appall,
no defensive wounds led to believe he had no helmet,
no helmet had him,
furthermore, *Shakespeare's spinal deformity an err, he had no limp,
no limp or a withered limb,
furthermore, his remains were found on a battlefield setting,
a battlefield setting, not in a churchyard,
"A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse", alas none were seen,
none were seen near this Shakespeare die-hard.
~~0~~
*Shakespeare's cast of Richard III in his play re his spinal deformity appears to have been exaggerated.
2022 July 24
If I died in a casket,
Will you be my basket?
I’m the bottomless pit
full of so much wit
What if I can fly?
Soaring like a lullaby
I’m this bottomless cement
I weep in mere lament
Like rainfall
I stand tall
Against woe’s wall and all
Hear me as I call
In appall…but on the ball…
I’m afraid of what lies ahead
I’m afraid of what lies beneath
Let alone what lies within…
But, you’re God-sent…
Why do I cry
And I don’t know why…
When did things go wrong?
I wonder…
Where you’re at
Am I but a black bat…
Baffled by bewilderment,
Cradled in the darkness before me?
Sorrow me not
Joy be with me
Let not time rot
For an eternity
Please .. be . with… me….
Sorrow me not
Joy be with me
Let not time rot
For an eternity
I’m colliding…
I’m falling away
Into the bottomless pit, I go
So full of wit left to show and glow and grow…
Know you’re unforgotten
In my memories…the forgiven…
But, can’t forget to regret
The things I put you through and yet,
I bet you are a lost soul
Much like me in a sense..
I’ve fallen,
But upon my knees
And again…
You’re not the one to please..
God is