Long Beady Poems
Long Beady Poems. Below are the most popular long Beady by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Beady poems by poem length and keyword.
Call me Gillespie
At the thought of choosing sides
This all makes me Dizzy
Where ones befuddled and the other lies
White toothed grinning alligator
Beady-eyed crocodile
Which will we regret later
We'll find out for sure after awhile
One to build a wall to keep us all
Safe from those who want a home
The other swinging doors wide open
Sweeping out deplorable's
Reading from the dictionary
They would make a lot more sense
Starting out with the B's
Blah, Blah, Blah, He said, She said
I wonder when we the sheeple
Will stand up and call their bluff
Give this all back to the people
Finally say enough's enough
Is this the best they have to offer
Who's to win this losing game
Will it be the constant cougher
Or the billionaire that's clearly insane
Sadly, this crazy train needs a conductor
To carry this fragile freight
Watch out for the Loco-motion though
As we jump track on this runaway
I'm going to tell you a tale that may frighten you
about the precursor of death that will pursue...
There's iridescent beauty found on his ebony wings
but always of impending death his cawing sings.
He perches as a grim reaper on the fence, taunting
as if on my gravestone to bring fear and daunting
A dance step to his left then quickly to the right
He takes wicked pleasure, but I will feel no fright
for never will I weep and as long as I remain alive
His corvine refrain fortifies my strength to survive
Black as pitch he sits, fluttering wings on my gate
I refuse to accept him as foreshadower of my fate
I'm not destined to be the carrion that he will feast
In shadows, day and night, lingers the black beast
Jeering with an evil stare, are bright beady eyes
His dark presence I've come to loathe and despise
Blackguard! I shall curse him until my last breath
Begone raven! Today, I will not waltz with death
Now you know the tale of what keeps me awake
It's the macabre one whose thirst I refuse to slake
I am still alive and have not yet fallen from grace
So, I will not let him lead me to an unholy place
Waiter waiter!
look!
but monsieur
you ordered a minnow soup, n'est pas?
Waiter waiter
Not one swimming
around in my soup
a brown minnow full of brown poop
I don't want minnow poop
in the soup
why look, its a bald beady eyed minnow
waiter! I swear this minnow is drunk
ah Monsieur, we give all our minnows wine
before death
Waiter now I know why Greeks
throw dishes at walls
I swear than damn minnow tried to write
a poem, what gaul!
Plato must be going mad
in his grave
Monsieur , can we offer you some Coock & Hen whiskey
to drown out this bad taste?
No comment
Where do they come from?
Where do they go?
Why do they stay there?
Like a statue on show.
Some can be small
Some can be big.
Masterful weavers,
Hunters and creepers.
Some will move slowly
Some will move fast.
Eight legged creatures
With peculiar features.
They will all scurry
When in a hurry.
I'm always wary
Coz spiders are scary.
Invading my space
With beds of white lace.
High nervous tension
Preparing eviction.
Eight beady eyes staring
It's eight legs preparing.
We're flight or fight ready
My legs are like jelly.
They give me a fright
And some will bite.
Love them I don't
But harm them I won't.
Written 31.08.22
That life is a struggle, there's no denying
when the distance between light and dark
is just one misstep across the boundary line
Problematic for mankind since time began
Prompted by the reminder of crows flying
I have need to heed his words in the great book
There's truth there to find courage and strength
Armor and shield to prepare me for the fight
In chapter and verse I found it when I searched
for the way out, a way to escape the sea of madness
I pray not to get lost in the dark swells I abhor
It's the only way to assure my soul's salvation
Ravens roost there, in a forest of leafless trees
where damnation spills its virulent seeds
There, in the shadows of the valley of death—
like carrion for the picking, is how they see me
Blackguard avians wanting to spread their disease
Beady eyes following me as I walk through the mist
Waiting like vultures for me to take my last breath
To save myself from plight of battle and eternal death
I pray to defeat the demons crying out for me,
concentrate on the consciousness of mind over matter
and denounce the thought of "What will be, will be."
I must avoid the darkness for in its shadows, sings
the ruthless caws of ravens, fluttering their black wings
I've come to despise the sound of their beastly cries
Behind me the sound arises again, that baleful cawing
and ominous sight; the murder of crows taking flight
Overhead, they squawk a challenge with talons clawing
but I will face the soulless demons that tyrannise me
To their offers of temptation, I vow never to succumb
for a sin it would be to forsake my will to remain free
A Collaboration with Marti Sutherland
Circling the table before they feast, black ravens crow
bright beady eyes darting to and fro, away they go
landing on a wounded body that has not yet died
circling the skies before they feast, dark ravens cried
On their bellies through titanic grass, slimy snakes slither
forked tongues searching for innocent prey, coming hither
Reptiles crawling from under rocks, cold-blooded and chilled
their fangs leaving lethal bites, and another victim is killed
skulking in shifting shadows, deceitful humans lie in wait
Bearing no name, no face; beware of the wicked who hate
Brutal bashers who take what they want at the cost of life
Back stabbers living in a harsh world where hypocrisy is rife
Ravens, snakes and evil humans sit on thrones of deceit
Like black widows they feast on their mates when they cheat
They spin their lies so easily, like the sticky web of a spider
Beware you are not caught when their mouths open wider
Listen for the rustling sound
of the beady-eyed belly crawlers
deceitful serpents slithering on the ground,
flicking a two-forked tongue and hissing.
They should be heeded as a dire warning
when tempting us as if to say,
"Ssssssss..." they whisper, "Come hither."
Through tall meadow grasses
and across lawns and garden soils
they leave a trail of body wriggles
as rippled footprints.
Lying quietly in wait until
we're near to take a bite when startled.
They inflict pain... physical
and if a creature of duplicity, like Satan,
known for his trickery,
being bitten will have a different connotation
They can be found sidewinding
across desert sands seeking shade.
But warm sands hold another who commands...
the scorpion who claims the desolate land
as its home and is not willing to share.
The stinging tail of a crawling eight-legged one
is a weapon the serpent must consider.
Cleverly it lurks in treacherous shadowy places
trying to avoid the wrath of the desert Kahn.
The serpent and the scorpion,
reptile and deathstalker
dancing together until it ends in an embrace
but not one of sweet surrender
They race to combat, a battle to choose a winner,
Venom from a stinging tail and a stabbing bite
One the victor, the other a feast called dinner
But beneath the moon's golden glow,
carefully perched atop a saguaro
Is the sage one who boldly watches,
biding time with its keen eyes.
An owl lets the stinger and hisser fight
until the flap of its widespread wings
indicates his hunger has waited long enough
to be sated... something both should dread.
Take flight great owl, when day gives way to night
Good hunting to you as you choose your prey
Dive with pinioned wings and your fearful screech
Pointed beak at the ready to pluck on the flesh
Will your choice be serpent or scorpion,
the feast you dine upon tonight?
Laurah Maybelle Rickborn
1907-1935
Life was such a excruciating bother.
I’m happy the long drama is finished now.
My childhood consisted mostly of chores and lessons,
While my teenage years were devoted to daydreams,
Dancing, and the work I did ceaselessly,
On my parents’ modest farm on Painter Avenue.
Indeed, I acquired the dogmatic idea early in life,
That chickens are undoubtedly the filthiest creatures,
Ever created by our very creative creator.
So it was with a strange dose of personal joy,
Whenever I accosted one of our hapless chickens by its neck,
For the celebrated purpose of a quick slaughter.
Then, with speedy relish, I’d chop its beady head off;
Finally, with determined aplomb, I defeathered the thing,
As it death-spasmed still on my bloody lap.
Such are the memories I choose to remember,
As my final pathetic epitaph,
Of a life I found ultimately annoying and frustrating;
Of having to put up with arrogant selfish men,
Who smelled of cigars, whiskey and sweaty talcum;
And who desired more than a quick dance under the stars, indeed!
Of having to endure obtuse women with no life at all, except drudgery;
Simple-minded women who worked like willing slaves,
For their blow hard men-keepers; Blecch!
I wanted no part of that, thank you.
Like I said, I’m happy the drama is finished.
Happy, deliriously so, that
My daily encounters with conceited boorish men,
Are, at last, at an end!
Brava I say, to all women who fly freely!
Fly! Fly! Resist men! Fly!
We are about to be invaded by forces unknown,
the Martians are coming and their cover is now blown.
The invasion will start in the east around dusk,
we were warned to stay away, that darn Elon Musk.
Their mother ship is in orbit right now around Earth,
for years they’ve been watching our conception and birth.
They have large round heads, a pointed nose and green lips,
those so called spy balloons were just the first of their ships.
They have been controlling our minds with Verizon’s 5G,
their beachhead will form at the base of the dead sea.
Those martian balloons can be quite tricky to spot,
so keep one eye on the sky and look for a green dot.
We have fought our first battle, up north in the snow,
they can’t hide in the dark because their beady eyes glow.
For them our urine is toxic, so climb up high in a tree,
drink plenty of fluids, so when they’re close you can pee.
Something dreadful do I see, reflected in her eyes.
Could be death she's seen in a horrid dream, or
perhaps the relapse of a wretched addiction
that's left her at the mercy of this raven's claws.
One whose beady eyes know of her disgrace
and drew the blood that trickles down her face.
Tonight, he dares to expose her human faults
and as gilded moonlight dims... her world is grim.
What sinfulness does she bear in this pose?
One Poe would have drawn to illustrate a poem,
telling a dark tale as a black raven preens.
Cloaked in dark iridescent sheen he dares to reveal
the crown of her sin, as an ornament worn in her locks.
Nay! His cawing draws attention to the pox
he spreads on her as his wings span over her ears.
Disheveled and weary from shame and fear,
she grows more forlorn with each yowl she hears.
What horror was sown within those green eyes?
Ask the black bird for he swore allegiance in rhyme
to the reaper, without giving thought to her crime.
Forevermore will he tell the tale of it all...
the reason for her fall from grace, the tears on her face,
and the appalling reason blood drips from his claws.
There is a flaw in the heart of his beloved, and he swore
by squawking that they were unforgivable and yet...
regret is an emotion this raven seemed to have felt when he fled
after unveiling her iniquities with his egregious voice
until hoarse and then hung his ebon head in remorse.