Long Beasties Poems
Long Beasties Poems. Below are the most popular long Beasties by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Beasties poems by poem length and keyword.
Had a beard since nineteen sixty-two
Hate to think what's underneath
Might even be a family of boat people
Maybe an old Christmas wreath
Heard that it's even very possible
For animals to flourish and survive
In the depth of my hairy countenance
Where they multiply and thrive
But I haven't felt any movement lately
Though sometimes I do feel a twinge
Perhaps whatever is living in there
May have gone on a drunken binge
Bottom line is I'll still have this beard
When they lower me into the ground
Don't dare shave for fear little beasties
Will leap out and scurry around
© Jack Ellison 2015
In rare gustation dine we here tonight!
For you, my feast; for me, your pleasant sight!
And for them both, I raise my glass to cheer:
Let all that’s sober end before the year!
Let music, wine and wantonness prevail!
Let revelry erase the dry and stale!
And light your mortal youth that burns so strong,
For I, the God of Wine, who’s lived too long.
And when my followers stand - or rather, sprawl -
Across the landscape, shall the dreary fall!
And when my wine the final frown shall lift,
Then sprawled amidst the rest, I’ll share the gift!
Let wine make us wise, and feasting for all!
Till morning shall rise, or each of us fall!
Evil sobriety! It shall not last the night!
For I have found munitions, ample for the fight!
The vine divine, from whence the grapes of wine!
I tend its thirsts, and it doth water mine!
The beasties of the Earth and air,
I do invite to be my fare!
Oh hi me hence to the laundromat
Bearing many a malodorous sock
As ofttimes a shepherd will boldly go
To the babbling brook where the clear waters flow
With a line of the wooliest beasties in tow
(Or sometimes merely formed up in a row)
Which comprise his caprinaerious flock
A football jersey, meant for sport
Relegated now to work
A dozen holed and yellowed shorts
Which in a dank corner lurk
Some threadbare jeans and faded tees
A brace of sweatpants lacking knees
And a woolen sweater, rife with fleas
I find I must transport
As manly heart anticipates the finding of a laundromat queen
Perhaps a Vida Guerra clone
Or Jennifer Lawrence all alone
Or Charlotte McKinney, sans cell phone*
But it doesn't seem to be my day, none such are here, I ween.
When it comes to laundromatic love it seems I am quite out of luck,
For the only lass who toils within
Sports globular frame and trebular chin
And more body hair than Rin Tin Tin
Much like Rosanne Barr with a silly grin, had her face impacted a truck.
*So she can't call for help.
I heard them on the porch.
They crept up stealthily, like ninjas.
Not wanting to be heard, initially.
Their breathing was so loud, it woke me before I noticed their scurrying. They scurried like
Small, heavy, hundred pound baby bears.
I peeked at them from behind my curtain.
Started to count them. One, two, three, four, at least five.
I wondered if the little ones
Would survive. The largest ones were mean and aggressive.
They slapped each other’s hands as it reached for the cat food.
Lots of screeching. Not ninja-like now.
Angry if anyone else wanted a nibble.
The biggest one was not sharing
even one tiny sand-like crumb with the little ones.
Their mother?
I hope not. If so, she should be ashamed of herself.
The little ones began to busy themselves trying to find
Crumbs of crumbs of crumbs anywhere on the porch.
She was not sharing.
I felt sorry for the little beasties as I watched them hunt in vain
While maybe mom feasted in front of them.
Slurping wildly, and rudely.
If this was their mother,
She was giving them more than a bit of a hint
To stop following her and find their own food.
They followed her off the porch
As she left, fat, satisfied, and selfishly full.
~
O’er this frail valley, darkness doth eclipse
Winter fans death, o’ lonely wishes fall
Blood of weakened flesh, high mountaintop drips
Puddles reflect forms, shadow’d mourners call
Beasties lurk, sin collects damaged wages
Curtains drawn project shadowed silhouettes
Horseback ministers breach chain fastened cages
Slashing victims falling, blade n’er forgets
Deafened screams echo cries o’ tortured souls
Ashen flames smother, breaths exhaling fear
Baptized dreams drown midst shallow murky shoals
Sanity evades, crusades disappear
Sunrise, smoke filters, blue skies unaware
An old woman weeps, hunched in sad despair
~
English Sonnet
I just wanted to try one
When his father-in-law got him
into the poultry biz in Rhode Island
Joe had not fully contemplated that
first day to market when he
when he failed to truss and bag the birds
properly, a holy-moly cock-up so
when he tossed them into his ’02
Honda Accord LX to parlay
the beasties down 95 South RI,
they managed to wriggle free
the chickens did, got loose
from the burlap sack
the chickens did, flapping anarchy,
and mayhem, and bad policy about
the Aught-Deux’s upscale cabin,
the mad bastard capons pocking
fine leatherette and Boze while
Bad Chicken Farmer Joe flailed away,
fowl and feathers, feathers and fowl
flailing, clawing, at the faux cherry
wheel, finally rip-cording his failed way
down exit 8A for Quonset Point,
where, at the light, the cross-walkers froze
glaciating, mightily at the cockerel mayhem
unraveling inside a popular Midclass Sedan.
Granny`s spooky house
My granny has a spooky house she has a spiders web
She keeps it in her room at night just above my bed.
I cannot take my eyes of it however hard I try
As it unwraps its prey from its shiny web and slowly eats a fly.
The spiders black and hairy with long and skinny legs
I’m sure when I fall asleep at night it crawls about my head.
She also has a cauldron it’s filled with poisonous gloop
But she says it`s for tomorrow as she’s making homemade soup.
I go to bed quite early but Granny stays up late
She`s downstairs eating fruitcake it`s like beasties on her plate.
Just as it turns midnight her cat comes to the room
It snuggles in the corner and sleeps on granny`s broom.
It` s coat is black and shiny its eyes are big and green
It`s claws are sharp and pointy the biggest that I've seen.
Then it starts to hiss and spit and getting up its hackles
And Granny starts to laugh at it just like a witches cackle.
Now she takes its collar of, it wears a silver bell
Then it falls asleep real quick just like she cast a spell.
My granny wears a pointed cap when she goes to bed
It looks just like a witches hat sitting on her head.
Her gown looks like a witches cloak when she hangs it up
And then she takes her teeth out and puts them in a cup.
And when the house is quiet and everyone`s asleep
The doors they start to crackle and the floors begin to creek.
The windows really draughty and the heating pipes are knocking
And the squeaky stairs out in the hall sounds just like someone talking.
There`s footsteps in the attic granny says it`s just a mouse
It`s really hard to sleep at night in granny`s spooky house.
But when I wake up in the morning and the sun is shining bright
I open up the curtains to let in all the light.
The cat is in the garden the spiders in its web
The doors don’t squeak and the floors don’t creek
And I`m snuggled up in bed.
Granny`s in the kitchen and I cannot hear the mouse
It`s in the attic sleeping in granny`s spooky house
I know that I should not have looked
My eyes collect the movements
that do frighten to the core
I know that I should not have looked
I’m curious all the more
For there behind the thicket
where the beasties come to play
Lurking in the underbrush
and thorny mass decay
Drooling on the pathway
when the blood begins to seep
Eating pieces of your heart,
the fears they long to reap
Carving out a warning
in the dark archaic stone
Arches built of victim’s
empty vestibules of bone
Gathered neath the shadows
falling bleak the universe
Twisted, barely visible
the message fills the curse
Dare not seek what leads the eyes,
upon this sanctuary tread
None shall live to hear the cries,
echoes fall among the dead
Follow forth another way
lest death become your wandered path
Turn about this end of day
or face the heartless aftermath
There behind the thicket
where the beasties come to play
It’s best this evening to beware
and look the other way
For the I should not have looked Poetry contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose
5/31/17
(Critter's of Chaos)
Upon a realm where artificial lights flicker and fade,
Unbeknownst to denizens, an eldritch evil's laid.
Upon a realm where artificial lights flicker and fade,
Alien eggs nest in shadows cast by tower high,
Harboring secrets that soon will multiply.
With shells that splinter and release their putrid freight,
Nightmarish entities emerge, ready for the fray.
Critters of chaos, fueled by hunger's relentless fire,
Seek to consume all in their path, as if possessed by choir.
Our hapless heroes, cornered, faces pale with dread,
Confront a horde of beasties, their intentions clear ahead.
Yet ere the slaughter commence without reprieve,
An figure cloaked emerges, from doorway hidden.
"Away, ye vile spawn," quoth stranger, voice imbued
With ancient power, as device in hand glowed, infused.
And with a blast of energy pure and bright,
The mysterious savior engaged the Critters in flight!
Beasts recoiled and screamed as holy beams struck true,
Shriveling back to eggs, their evil undone knew.
Critter's abandoned few!
In the evenings twilight gloaming
daytime changelings cease their roaming
place acorn hats upon their heads
lay down in hidden feather beds.
Some sleep while others shake in fear
as blackness comes so ever near,
and beasties you should never see
will search the night for me and thee.
Strange sounds break silence of the night
as darkness takes away your sight.
Scuffles, howls, a sickening moan;
echoes that chill you to the bone.
When, if you sleep, they stay with you
they live within you through and through;
the beasties you should never see
who search the night for me and thee.
The cockcrow is some distance yet
more demons you have not yet met.
Night seems much longer than a day;
that moment when the changelings play.
Is that the creaking of the stairs?
You quickly say your hasty prayers
that beasties you should never see
don’t search the night for me and thee.