Long Aptly Poems
Long Aptly Poems. Below are the most popular long Aptly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Aptly poems by poem length and keyword.
337.
The Rape of Ariel
Gay Ursula! You, dirty octopus, set me free!
How dare you enjoy my painful agony?!
Deliver me now or you’ll regret raping me!
My rapist, your abominable sadism will cost the life of thee
I’m not joking! You will pay dearly to me
After this your elation, you will cry certainly!
Ah! Sebastian, go tell our soldiers what’s happening to me
Tell them that I am writhing painfully
In the clasp of this octopus so yucky!
Oh! Flounder, go tell our king his son’s calamity
Tell him to make haste in rescuing me
Or I’ll shrink into pieces if you don’t come promptly
Ah! King Triton, my father, rescue me speedily
Ride on the torrents of the sea
To retrieve this so pitiful me
Oh! King Triton, aren’t my eyes tricking me?
Is there a mirage under the sea?
Is that you, my father, who I see?
Oh! Flounder, is that our king in reality?
Gracious! My hero is here! What a relief to me?!
Deliver me now from this agonizing cruelty!
Oh! Sebastian, have you also brought our whole army
To bring down the savage & maniac enemy?
At last! Sealed now is the fate of me!
My rapist, your chastisement has come so aptly
Embrace now the prize of your debauchery
Taste our retribution in fullest intensity!
End now the Rape of Ariel by this creature so stinky
Detach me from the clutches of these tentacles so slimy
Gay Ursula! You’re doomed! Farewell to your savagery!
-02/14/2015
(Dumarao)
*Disney Characters Sex Change Collection
I'd never drawn a breath until I'd seen
A tremble of the black moon in your eye,
The next was taken by the impish glean
That bared your heinous soul,
Fierce flames of piceous coal ...
To kindle with my core, your object, sly.
Gone, my will, the instant that you spoke -
My blood, as molten metal with each word,
That wanton beast within that you awoke
Now scorching with its cause,
And impaling, deep, its claws ...
The flesh 'tween bad and good ... now aptly blurred.
~ 6th Place ~ in the "Premiere Number 150 Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Rhyme Time 3" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Sponsor. I enjoy your contests very much, and I hope you keep having them!
As the Hedgehog is known for its hedge
It seems he is known for his edge
As he drives in the tip of the wedge
Whether swinging a ball peen or sledge
He will maul you with words aptly lurid
Setting traps that are complexly florid
Hit the gas, double clutch, and then floor it
Leave you lusting for metaphors torrid
Then on a whim he will dip his pen
And commit the poetic original sin
Of writing so tight it almost sounds trite
Shakespearian screamers awake in the night
And yes, he will dare, to twice poke the bear
Baring his heart though no one will care
Are his words stealthy demons bred of his fear
That might let you in, but won’t let you near
Thus, does he stand on the edge of the edge
His view a blank page on which he must fledge
John G. Lawless
©5/19/2023
Eating my oatmeal, sipping my tea,
“Where”, I wondered, “should I stroll today?
I won’t be rash and decide in a flash.
There are choices to carefully weigh”.
“Left/Right, Up/Down, and Forward/Back -
There are but three choices to be made.
I will be smart and think like Descartes.
Then, I can begin my promenade.”
3D was an art, before Descartes
And anti-left, an ancient bias,
Around how to choose which hand to use,
Dating to days of Zacharias.
“Left” is a direction long bad-mouthed.
People said it was wrong, and not “RIGHT”.
Is it deft to choose not to go left,
Or is going left just as upRIGHT?
Why does “up”, not “down”, enhance “UPright”?
To be on TOP of the list we try.
Why not make our goal DOWN in the hole,
Instead of way up HIGH in the sky?
We would rather our heart RISE than sink.
Heaven is ABOVE, and hell, BELOW.
A hawk on patrol beats a blind mole.
So goes the story of “high” and “low”.
Better to go UP, but harder too -
The way old Newton would have it, see,
“If you don’t like, take a hike, ‘cuz
We are all pulled down by gravity”.
While UP in Flanders, a mapmaker,
Aptly named Gerardus Mercator,
Put Flanders on TOP, refusing to swap
With Australia, BELOW the equator.
Another bias, it seems to me,
Is we want to go forward - not back.
In a world sublime, it relates to time -
Einstein said, “it’s relative, Jack”.
Both my oatmeal and tea are now gone,
And the sun has sunk low in the West.
Tomorrow, I’ll drink tea, and I’ll think
Where to walk. Now, I’ll have a nice rest.
shadowed in darkness, sniffing as a hound
creeping about without releasing a sound
begging to be noticed, wanting to be found
silence is too loud when its echoes resound
behold, it comes creeping to known places
among those of us who wear innocent faces
cajoling in soft whispers to gain good graces
offering false humility and fridgid embraces
silence cries with stale breath for adoration
quietly seducing with phrases of flirtation
spawned to be the wielder of denigration
a stealth mute, soused on pride's libation
ink splotches fingered from hushed tongue
will never be songs aptly written to be sung
in silence it leaks acid and toxins are sprung
disguised as a friend but what lies it's flung
SPEAK the truth you have neglected to say
then return to shadows where you oft play
your silence has not fooled those you betray
sheath your vile dagger then be on your way
Confined within the steep banks of a narrow mind
is a cryptic river where men stumble in and go blind
They construct reinforced dams that hold them back
from accepting the candid truth, white is not black
Like the slow-moving current of a trickling stream
their thoughts are clogged and clot like curdled cream
What chance do the recalcitrant ones have to accept
reality if they allow no vision of being circumspect
of taking fault and blame for having a closed mind?
These are the ignorant, the foolish ones aptly defined
as those destined to stagnate until they decompose
It's the subsequent end to the stubborn who oppose
a new premise or concept with which they don't agree
They rot inside prisons of conceit, a human tragedy
Speck Of Dust
A cloud took on the third phase of development
Grew with weather that came of age
With it dust particles in disarray were captured
Wind held them tight as wind might do
Mountains claimed them once aptly as their own
One dust speck broke free from this catastrophe
Longed for the monument top again with its giant friend
The sierra known as home, the western range
Being the peak of existence, Earth
The cloud tells another story
Takes water, dust and air into its care
Turns particles white and with the dust, transforms to other colors
Sometimes to the hues of tan, yellow or even gray
Brown tints form around the edges when coming on to night
Desert orange, usually quiet but grounded
Powdered soft, welcomed change, not alarmed
Dust speck escaped all the glamour for more solid ground
Fell back to earth
Got lost with ranges, staged etchings against the sky
Remained there, held down by rain
A pinnacle of success for such a tiny thing
Back again once more
Bozo the clown is ready to begin,
in Cuba, Fidel Castro starts his reign.
Buddy Holly meets a horrible end,
Charles de Gaulle is back on top again.
Motown now brings us a whole lotta soul,
Disney’s Sleeping Beauty warms up our heart.
TV’s Bonanza, Rawhide, Twilight Zone,
and The Untouchables all get their start.
That F104C flies higher still,
the show ‘Rocky and his Friends’ is unveiled.
Marx Brother’s are no longer on TV,
the first ‘Barbie’ dolls are ready for sale.
Vince Lombardi takes over the Packers,
the Cardinals trade just one player for nine.
Tom Landry starts to coach for the Cowboys,
in about 30 years he will resign.
Boston Celtics score one seventy three,
Candlestick Park is now Bayview’s new name.
One-forty-eight straight then Yogi errors,
Boston Red Sox last race barrier team.
Food stamps help to fill our hungry bellies,
a new design for the pennies tail end.
The Dalai Lama has to leave China,
Al Ginsberg’s “Lyseric Acid” is penned.
Hawaii becomes state number fifty,
Japanese Americans freed once more.
Russia shows us the far side of the moon,
America wants to even the score.
No one knows why they played two All Star games,
least they sent someone to the Hall of Fame.
The AFL is the new football league,
Eddie Lubanski bowls two perfect games.
Oklahoma’s prohibition is done,
Soviets to invade Afghanistan.
Able and Baker leave orbit and back,
and NASA announces their moon trip plan.
SR.N1 is the first flying ship,
Lady Chatterley’s Lover is now banned.
Planet 9 from Outer Space aptly named,
as the world’s ‘worst film’ and then it gets canned.
The discovery of Zinj means humans,
had lived at least two million years ago.
Ike bounces his message off of the moon,
we hear that Kookie can lend us his comb.
Hendrix buys his first electric guitar,
he only plays one gig and then gets fired.
Bob Dylan graduates from his high school,
and he is beginning to be inspired.
There’s a growing sense that things are changing,
people can’t quite put their finger on it.
In Wakenda I’m clinging to my mom,
and my diapers keep filling with ‘not spit’.
Author aligns art, allure aptly aims;
Union urges us, unleash urge upstream;
Timely tales taste tart, tension thrilling tame;
Happenings hurl hearse, hurts heaping hoarse hymns.
Exploit even ease, enter extra ears;
Note noisy nerves nest, notice nowness nudge;
Touching tender tease, truth thrusts toiling tears;
Ink inner impress, images indulge.
Choice charms crazy cheer, chase confronting calm;
Hurl healthy hustle, heal hurting heartache;
Evidence each ear, etch explains embalm;
Apply aid ample, applause aptly aches.
Reveal rapture ripe, rescue rash rumble;
Toilsome troubles tribe, tyrant takes tumble.
Leon Enriquez
13 May 2014
Singapore
(Note: This poem is an Acrostic Sonnet with Alliteration.)
I revised a poem written
January twenty second
last year – two thousand twenty one
regarding gratitude for Medicare
Insurance to foot the bill
concerning ability to heal
courtesy immune system
undergoing toe till agency
or closest approximation thereof
impossible mission to undergo
one hundred percent protection
against contracting deadly illness,
viz latest epidemic impacting civilization.
Here at Highland Manor Apartments
Saturday January twenty third,
two thousand and twenty one,
I attest yours truly
received the first (of four)
inoculations to stave off
getting COVID-19,
thus mine poetic title
might not seem absurd.
Wednesday February third
and Friday October twenty second
same year as above
witnessed himself receiving
second and third injections respectively
to diminish vulnerability
contracting transmissible pathogen.
Today Wednesday April sixth
two thousand twenty two
poet of Perkiomen Valley
received the fourth
bringing him up to date
(or speed if you prefer druggist's lingo)
with Center for disease
control recommendations.
Aforementioned stance toward death
(meaning taking preventative measures
to live healthy existence)
obviously avoid Saturday night fever
regarding desire Stayin' Alive
and most oppressive
when mine mental, physical
and/or spiritual yours truly
takes a (swan) dive
analogous where bajillion bees
swarm from their hive.
Linkedin with well known poem by and by
penned by Emily Dickinson, I didst decry
expressed her relief
to surender release
and amazingly gracefully die
"Because I could not stop for Death,"
she aptly crafted verses to comply
reverently, merrily, and gloriously accepting
cessation of existence well nigh
as does one garden variety generic goofy guy.
All natural catastrophes aside,
plus excluding thermonuclear war,
where civilization would get fried
nullifying idea viz,
let conscience be your guide,
nor no place to run and hide
left to grapple with dystopian quandary