Long Bash Poems
Long Bash Poems. Below are the most popular long Bash by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bash poems by poem length and keyword.
Every morning, I steal longing glances at the most spellbinding creature I have ever cast my two eyes upon,
Her skin is pale and lifeless, wearing a peculiar looking amulet draped across her neck,
I cannot help myself to stare, as she engulfs her lunch meat in only a few vicious bites like some sort of evil spawn,
Whenever I cross her path, I feel like a deer in headlights; turning into a nervous wreck.
Her alluring features of dark hazel eyes and fire truck red lips call to me from across the office,
At the call of my name, I scamper towards my desire like a cowardly pup,
My heart begins to pound out of my chest, her pointed ears perk up and I remain cautious,
With music to my ears she exclaims, “You are my date to the Halloween office party tonight,’ I just thought I would give you the heads-up.”
With long black finger nails, she carves her address into the palm of my hand,
I glance down at the blood oozing out of my fresh wounds and she playfully smirks,
With a sloppy lick from her magnificent tongue the wound seals and I am ready to give her a wedding band,
The fiery hot blood I feel thrashing around in my veins every time I touch her, feels like exploding fireworks.
That night, I arrive at the address that may potentially scar my soft tender flesh,
Before I can knock, a clawed hand grips me tight lugging me into the front hall,
I am immediately blindfolded and I hear her deep growl, “My dear, I just need a moment to refresh.”
The room is cool and damp, I scurry to remove the blindfold to become aware of my surroundings above all.
Unfortunately to my defeat, I hear the jingle and sharp pull back of chains restraining me to the stone wall,
The warm breath and droplets of fallen drool on the back of my neck make me shriek,
Not a soul can hear the disgraceful, desperate cries and pleas I begin to call,
Now I know why people say to never date your monster of a co-worker, as she kisses my cheek.
I flail and bash my arms and legs trying to desperately swing and knock her off her feet,
I feel her filthy nails ripping into my chest,
In a soft growl she mentions something about my blood being sweet,
With a deafening howl the horrid situation puts my body to rest.
September 25, 2018
Scary or Spooky poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
6th Place
Vera Pavlova English Translations of Russian Poems
I shattered your heart;
now I limp through the shards
barefoot.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Winter? a beast.
Spring? a bud.
Summer? a bug.
Autumn? a bird.
The rest of the time I'm a woman.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Immortalize me!
With your bare, warm palm
please sculpt and mold my malleable snow.
Polish me until I glow.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Scales:
on the one hand joy;
on the other sorrow.
Sorrow is the weightier;
therefore joy
elevates.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I walk a tightrope,
balanced by a child
in each arm.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
God saw
it was good.
Adam saw
it was impressive.
Eve saw
it was improvable.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A muse inspires when she arrives,
a wife when she departs,
a mistress when she’s absent.
Would you like me to manage all that simultaneously?
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You, my dear, are my shielding stone:
to sing behind, or bash my head on.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Remember me as I am this instant: abrupt and absent,
my words fluttering like moths trapped in a curtain.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I have been dropped
and fell from such
immense heights
for so long that
perhaps I still
have enough
time to learn
how to
fly.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Vera Pavlova is a Russian poet. Born in Moscow, she is a graduate of the Schnittke College of Music and the Gnessin Academy of Music, where she specialized in music history. She is the author of twenty collections of poetry, four opera librettos, and the lyrics to two cantatas. Her poetry has appeared in The New Yorker and other major literary publications. Keywords/Tags: Pavlova, Russian, translation, Russia, epigram, shards, seasons, scales, tightrope, mother, child, arm, sorrow, joy, shattered, heart, broken, glass, limp, limping, barefoot, snow, sculpt, mold, polish
A queen was spinning flax one day.
She gave her loom a jerk.
(Don’t ask what “flax” or “looms” might be,
or why a queen must work).
She pricked her finger (careful, now!)
yet Sigmund Freud would say
these children’s tales are full of smut –
there is no other way.
Three drops of blood fell in the snow
(she’s spinning flax outside?)
She thought that she’d commemorate
her perforated hide.
“I’ll have a daughter,” Queenie thought,
“with lips of ruby red,
and skin as white as that there snow!
Let’s go!” And so to bed.
Her weaving-loom was black as jet
- another tint to add –
and when she found she was ‘with child’,
a daughter’s what she had.
The girl grew fair, with jet-black hair,
and skin, unblemished, white:
those curvy hips, those luscious lips!
She was a gorgeous sight.
But mother never missed a chance
to put her daughter down:
“Just understand, I rule this land –
the only babe in town!”
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
who’s the tasty totty?”
The magic mirror told her straight,
“Queen, you’re the only hottie!”
But adolescence changes things,
and Snow White turned out fair:
to use the common parlance, she
had grown a lovely pair!
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
I’m still the choicest chick!”
“Well, just about,” the mirror said:
“the kid’s improving quick!”
We’ll drop the Huntsman who was tasked
to take her to the river
(Snow White, that is) and rip her guts,
so Queen could eat her liver.
Why did the hunter like the girl?
Was it her curvy bits?
A friend, he proved – and probably
A friend with benefits!
He told the truth, and now the youth
slipped something in the booze.
She turned real mean – she got the queen
the reddest pair of shoes!
The birthday bash was fairly flash:
for Queenie, two surprises –
no, not the wine ‘improved’ with hash,
as everyone surmises!
Snow White was still alive, the first:
she wore a see-through blouson.
“Mommy Dearest,” red lips pursed,
“Just slip these bright red shoes on.”
The Queen put on the birthday gift
and started twirling, prancing:
the mirror told her, “You’ve been stiffed!
You’re dying, Queen – not dancing!”
That Snow White dame must take the blame:
for she had put together
two metal sheets, a red-hot treat!
Those shoes weren’t made of leather!
Burning the hay day’s flurry’s from club Sixty Eight It was said, I would fight a buzz saw, maybe if it crossed me Road house blues, old news but never to miscreate For living in the condemnation was never, to be easy You see the fear and loathing came before ever I met Hunter S, for I was driving through decadence to sleazy A speakeasy but never was it a black and white bet Cruising route 68 to where rock-n-roll met the road Where hall of famer's played, before they were somebody Skillet fried from all the cornbread and your own code Fast music, fast cars, fast women all aboard everybody Getting to the club was half the fun, so we thought Leaving blue lights behind for they gave us a rash Where the mafia rules and nightly battles fought Walking on glass, the parking lot was as the roadhouse bash Before you hit the door knives, guns flash in the moonlight Don’t mess with my brother it could end your life Everything is on the table not coming down to daylight Even then, it was only glorified misery, waking again to strife Looking through the hole in the wall never wanting to go back For all the crosses, beside the road, in hindsight friend Not all made it through, the wrong side of the track By the grace of God it was a song with an end
Dope boundary rope tropes…fans hopes..Ollie copes..thick skin…will find the strength within…ignores the din…as Pope unleashes that boyish grin..
Can hear Freddie and David…ddddd..Under Pressure…well..hard to measure the pleasure of the Pope’s treasure…papacy legacy pride..stops the slide..trumps the prodigy..got a ton to shun outgun..dumps the Bethell puns..rested and bested..still in at stumps.. after Stokes plumps for tried and tested..
Nasty ploys from the seedier media boys…that gambit or slight..of weedier..needier skittish rabbit in the floodlight habit..but such poise..delights despite the noise.. fights the red hot slingshot Jasprit highlights...that iconic.. chronic.. metronomic…never laconic..halcyon harbinger..joy bringer..humdinger swinger gunslinger....
Who’s got a clue what to do…where it will land…understand what the Bumrah brand’s got planned…should be banned…can’t watch it from the hand..love watching it from the stand..tames games…fanned flames…big names castles manned..but the sparkle of another debacle shames and blames…panned and canned..
Doff your hat…scoff..from the off…Test cricket doesn’t get harder than that…time we beckoned..back when Goochie opined…Essex accent whined..reckoned like facing the World’s test best one end.. and tother Ilford second eleven..
It was a story of small standing tall demanding another dance at the Bumrah ball as the diddy men zen of Ollie and Ben gave us a chance and dodged.. not bodged by the Jasprit lance
Even the boom boom cherry riff couldn’t biff the Pontiff of who we are so fond…no what if..made merry with his tintin strawberry blonde quiff in this tiff did respond..
Golly gosh the another level devil..tabloid tosh of him getting Bethell bish bash boshed…losing the race.. will never forget Ollie’s jolly face…gleaming…day dreaming yet screaming to those scheming and memeing…fury at the jury…beaming…the adored Pope ruled..his grace.. Dueled with the ultimate pace ace…an up yours…century scores…our faith restores ..Ollie.. rightly put out…brightly glowed..showed us what he’s all about..loud..proud shout to the crowd who know nowt…want him out…made it clear..peers cheers he holds dear..my best at your behest ..so sincere.. I deserve my Test place and rest my case..! Hear Hear..
Oi Oi ..saveloy…caps do doff..bless Joffy boy…with injury woes and blows…
From the off some did scoff…Joff can no longer bowl for toffee…clearly not really…
Not being coy but some of those press hoi polloi said Ben had chose..
A risky ploy against our Indian foes…but seeing him let rip
For the fans unbridled joy..a trip to our favourite offy..
It must have been hard..his comeback marred..alright scarred
By what the keyboard warriors deposited…despite his trouncer
Bouncer calling card…was abused.. and accused of being coddled..
Even swaddled and cossetted..
While everyone in the stand thought it was grand…
Our corn row mane not dread lock..spearhead…
Gold chain warlock.. with the ball they all dread
After four sore years to once more..
Adore pure pace grace so raw..
Watch the speed gun soar…
A hardcore encore we saw for sure..
You can’t really match it…the Jofra creed…
Watching batters in tatters..can't relax..sow the seed..
The champ axe in our camp does ramp it up to the max…
Trying to face our flying ace hatchet who when he does need
Can just ratchet up his speed..
No faking…Joff did always say he would do his best..
In his quest to play another test…the ultimate contest..
Can’t be forsaken by those mistaken that he would just be taking..
The cash for some crap brash slap and dash bash..
Fleeting greetings from the future..where we will all being well ..
Will be meeting our speedster suitor…us.. amorous
About our glamorous Jofradamus..his blizzards will neuter..
Have willow wizards by the gizzards..our tearaway tutor..
So a quick nod to the bowling God…giving him another
Chance to prance and dance..sod each odd bod..
Getting sniffy or spiffy.. Joff somehow iffy..
Cos it was bloody lubbly jubbly..
To see you back having a crack on the track …
Like the scene of that 2019 tiff between him and piggy Smith…
Us again getting squiffy in a jiffy..with this new riff..
By our corker stalker.. wicket hawker…..the bliss
We did miss due to his injury abyss..
A new era ..finally coming…Joff still strumming …humming..
Nice one my son…so come on let’s open the bubbly…
Cleaning out the attic I found an old clockwork car sitting in my toy box
It was old and rusty the wheels still went round and it had plenty of knocks,
There was a small hole in the side that was rusted around its green tin sides,
A little square for a key and had two seats to take my toy soldiers for rides,
So that was it, I was hooked searching high and low looking for the right key,
But then I saw it hiding under an old chair it was dark and it was hard to see,
Now the excitement kicked in happily and I fitted the metal key into the slot,
And wound it up round and round it went it was a bit stiff my thumb hurt a lot,
It finally stopped winding it was ready so then I put the car down on the floor,
But it just stayed where it was, not rushing off like a bullet, not like before,
So I got thin winder and forced it to give another half turn and gave it a bash,
The useless car still did not move it just sat where it was and it did not dash,
Desperate measures were needed, decisions there was only one thing I could do,
I would have to take the car apart, carefully and fiddle about with the screw,
So I levered the the side and scratched some paint with my trusted Swiss blade,
The rotten old bottom bottom pinged off and flew to a corner it was poorly made,
I finally got to the main spring it was a bit rusted and it had been over wound,
So losing my temper the car got shouted at and I bashed the car upon the ground.
Something gave it rattled so I shook it and made all the little windows fall out,
Again deeper in frustration I tapped it with a hammer then I gave it a real clout,
To my surprise the hammer blow worked but a little red man flew across the floor,
With just a torch I searched the attic but he was lost and I will see him no more,
There was still no movement from the clockworks so this time it was a softer tap,
Then pain shot through my foot with only socks on I just stood on the poor chap,
It came to that time when it was do or die so I gave the car a great hard whack,
I had hit it too hard and the top caved in now the bloody thing will not go back,
After my assault on the tin racing car there is just a pile of tin on the floor,
Grabbing the bits throwing them in the box now bored I will play with it no more.
* Weird Science *
With pens he walks
Pocket Protectors to protect his chest
Taped up glasses on his face
Pull his pants down, call him a GEEK a NERD
Science -relativity theory and it's light speed from space
Experiment this- discover that, is how scientist rant
Brainy cats have so many open portals in their minds
You talk down to us as if we carry the brains of a bird
Do you really think we are all blind,
for not caring over the objectives principles of the Heisenberg?
You passed each and ever single science fairs in class
Feeding your ego collecting dots
After school you earned the right when a bully kicked your a$$!
A DORK calling your self the Math Magician King
Burning and crashing our minds explaining the physics of dying fast
Using your Quantum Leap that our universe comes with a destiny string
No desire to be wired who needs your further scientific understanding
Life comes with a pattern in which we once lived electricity free
Ironically your scientific process of defining itself continues to expand
Supported by the measurements and masses only you NERDS understand
The power points of our so called energy,
is pointless to me like our so called gravity.
The tale you spin is not of love but a twisted one of insanity
God is the only scientific knowledge I want to perceive!
All you so called scientist, riding the lightning like Benjamin F.
Take the bolt and tie it like a noose around your neck
Following your own perception while you feed off the sheep
Here you come to emerge to discipline us with your mind of a genius
You come and you bash us with NERD brain waves to explain!
That this world revolves around the elements and laws of scientific claims
Research this- research that- who gives a cr@p we still die at the end
While life continues, to grow and manipulate our fate, about the universe
Unsolved facts about Einstein, who left his velocity of change for us to comprehend.
Instead of trying to rule the world, explain the facts why things keep getting worse?
Over exaggerating the excitement of an Ancient Mayan 2012 discovery curse.
Bottom line you scientific quacks,
the real Celestial body is found on the bottom of my crack.
By; P.D. ( LOL, I love Science )
You told me that no one else would want me
I believed you and began to feel ugly
Obeyed all your rules so that your hands, feet & UFOs didn't meet my body
People tried to tell me to leave but I ignored everybody
I was scared to leave because you said you’ll find me
And every step I took you’d be one step behind me
I kept silent and people became passers-by
I kept my head down so no one could see the pain in my eyes
You say you love me right? So why are my eyes always black & blue?
If I was alone I wouldn’t look the way I do
Hiding my black eyes behind shades with no sun looking like a fool
I can definitely go without your love
I think I’d look better without you
I’m tired of long sleeved shirts and pants
And I shouldn’t have to hide in my pockets the scars on my hands
I want to know what makes you think that you have the right
To put your hands on me through out the day and all through the night
You said that you want me to see the world
But how can I with my eyes swollen shut
And how can I have ever believed that this was love
You have me plotting how to end your life while you sleep
Because that’s the only time you're helpless and harmless to me
No one wants to help me because they say I’m a fool
And what’s the point because I’ll end up running back to you
I’m tired of feeling half dead and isolated from what I used to know as love
You separated me from my family and friends and most of all my mother
You constantly bash me and bring your other girls to jump me
Having them calling my phone threatening me
Watching me everywhere I go and lying to you about where I’ve been
So then you beat me until you reopen my stitches again
Don’t you think I’ve been through enough?
Think about all the things you have done
When you kicked me down the stairs I broke my arm and lost my unborn son
What kind of person beats others until their unconscious and at the end claim it was love
This must’ve been the way your father did ur mother
Or did she do this to u?
Just remember the next time you hurt me you’re out of luck
Because once you go to sleep you’ll never get back up
It’s not wrong of me to do
It’s all because I love you
Form:
There was a new potato that had just been harvest born
On opening his eyes a rooster crowed its horn.
He had grown rather quickly and grown rather strong
But that's when his feelings started to feel wrong.
Mr Potato had noticed he was feeling very sad
Sometimes it felt like, he was going slowly mad.
He was feeling confused and didn't understand why
Deep down he felt rotten, he just wanted to cry.
He discovered a big chip on his little shoulder
That grew too heavy to carry as he got older.
Then there was the urge to pound and to mash
That got quiet messy but made a tasty hash.
He gave a brill roasting when he felt mad
That was either good or extremely bad.
On the days he was fine he felt chirpy and crisp
Those were the days he fancied going for a dip.
When it was too hot he felt rather boiled
And when it was cooler he liked to feel the cold.
His skin went more brown when he got baked
His spud-kini gave him wedges - for goodness sake!
Mother Nature felt sorrow for this confused spud
So she sent a gentle breeze that felt like a hug.
It was important he knew, he is valued so much
He smiled and listened when he felt her soft touch.
"These feelings that you feel are normal you see,
For you are a potato these feelings come naturally.
Your loved by so many and desired too
Your the stable in diets and great in a stew".
"Your the star at every vegan, society social bash
In soups an as a bread, your the main in creamy mash.
Your the star on the topping of a shepherds pie
Your famous world over, a very popular guy."
"You feed so many people, the rich and the poor
Your popular and wanted, it's you they adore.
You come from a large family of sisters and brothers
You have royal connections you will discover."
"The farmers will feed you and keep you warm
Your important to millions you have texture and great form.
King Edward and Charlotte, Maris Piper, Desiree
These are just a few from your large family tree."
He felt happy to know that he had a purpose
And easy to grow and there was even some surplus.
Feeding so many, especially the poor
He was now ready, to go through the kitchen door.
08.09.23