Long Bilk Poems
Long Bilk Poems. Below are the most popular long Bilk by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bilk poems by poem length and keyword.
A dog that is feeding on milk
Won't go all days been fed by an ilk
When situation makes him bilk
Then the dog won't be as fine as a silk
A ball at the back of the net is a goal
Two balling on bed must have become a soul
With the one that is in control
Pleasurably drilling the hole
Two goals are called a brace
Jubilation is always of deep embrace
How hard opponents feel so disgrace
Trying to come back in form through grace
Three goals are called an hatrick
After two is no longer a baby mama by trick
Enjoying the memorable awesome kick
Which never get you sick
Unexpectedly in love;
Hugs plant Olive.
Unexpectedly with peers;
Olive's shade gears cheers.
Unexpectedly in joy;
I, a playboy.
Unexpectedly with ladies;
Scope drives Mercedes.
But men are running late for altar's oath
Wandering soul mate can't afford a troubling both
But has forgotten the lurking loath
Running behind them, are many a troth
Tea with Gran,her muffins supreme,
Bath and change and hair brylcreamed.
into town to the pub in the square,
our gang always met there.
Checking the football scores
in the Oxford 'green un'.
Trad jazz with Donegan,Bilk or Collier
or maybe the ballroom bacchanalia.
Skip,hip-hop or jive or more sedately
to the Friday Five.
A swift half of cider in the Bodega bar
sadlynone of us could afford a car.
Dropping a shilling in the snug juke
box,Haley and Elvis,then unorthodox.
Bought tickets for the coming live shows,
Cochrane,Cliff and Shadows.
Later, at the dance the last waltz about
to begin,if you were fancied ,it
showed in her coy grin.
Requesting a date took a little courage,
so glad my choice that day,led
to marriage.
And we are left here
Like maggots—dirty, parentless…devastated
Always feeding on the gruel…the cruel
Fattening our lives in the moneyless bilk
Shocking like a bee sting, yet soft as silk
We are the forgotten
I am watching the others grow rotten
But I am cleansed and raw with glee
Because…though blinded with slime…I SEE…
I rise to the sound of the agonizing screams
Of rapes, murders, of violent fists…weeping minds
My definition of true finds…
I smile when any possible hope arrives
Fate laughs, knowing I constantly scream inside
I am amused of it all…I can’t stop laughing
As bitter tears began to fall
I HATE ALL OF YOU…
I WANT TO KILL YOU ALL…
But I love that I can take anything
From the nothing we have all been labeled
The sick, the low…the mentally unstable
Watch me roll up in a ball
A naughty tease to death’s lull
I love your silence…
I love your intense fall
And we are more alive than any of you
We are crazed by your belligerence
Aching to be emotionless
SHARE YOUR INDIFFERENCE
SHARE IT…
Give us something to be left with
So the others can die
As Fate veers its head looking in the mirror
Listen to her laughter—do you hear her?
She watches and waits
To find her maggots have grown wings…
Screw your selfish indifference...we fall to fly
We are more alive than any of you
Though quickly we die
This is a collaboration I had been working on with a friend a while back. We might change the title. Her name is Rebecca Larkin. She started the poem with the first line and from there we switched back and forth. Wrote it at the beginning of the year sometime; forgot to date it, oops! Anyway, enjoy!
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Like dust in the wind, we are doomed to repeat ourselves
Mingling past with present, we collect on the grimy shelves
Of past’s hard keep, falling on repeat
We gain from the pain and strange bittersweet
Taking in the reality-split dreams
The etching pangs of truth bursting at the seams
With every glistening drop of clarity
We engorge on the reliefs of now—a rarity
Thoughts pool in a sludge of black, gleaming like oiled silk
Denials spread like fires; saturated, we bilk
Pain and tragedy strike their resonating, dissonant chords
A darkness and sadness we can only desperately afford
Pain. . .strife. . .repetitious like a swinging pendulum
Achingly perfected rhythms gainst the beating death drum
Slivers of silvery hope shine through darkened clouds
Only to be covered again in menacing, smoky shrouds
Faith is left dying in a pit of despair
As the rest of emotion looms helpless in the air. . .
Nothing seems fulfilling anymore
The replay button fools my mind and cuts me to the core
Round and round it goes again like the jagged tick of a clock
Striving for purpose—screaming for love to find the lock
But only silence escapes, beneath the skin torn lips- nothing remains
The aftermath of quietude aches, scraping against endless pains
hope falls away into a deplorable state; waiting—hoping—for resurrection
And the painful power of truth is forced to gaze at its reflection
Questioning whatever has happened to faith and belief?
And why are the cliffs of sorrow so steep?
Like settling dust we merge our present with the past
Leaving the future on the shelf—too empty—too vast
Squandering the sand of time with nothing left, nothing left
Little known virus billed with hype
is much like the elusive snipe
look for clues and bilk mysteria.
COVID-19 is a blight
take your temperature, dispel fright
combat the urge of hysteria.
Cancellations? don't groan and gripe
take wise advice to wash and wipe
learn CDC’s criteria.
Counter laziness, use your might
raise your normal household fight
reduce viruses, bacteria.
Social distancing is an archetype
of honest help instead of tripe
Heed experts in your area.
Apply intentional foresight,
Observe limits with sweetness and light
Thank God this is NOT malaria.
March 16, 2020
Truth be told said topic minimally embellished
rather, prattling youthful looking
baby booming geezer
precious time (yours), he doth bilk
(cue sinister mock-up halloween voice)
moost valuable intangible
outstripping fine spun golden silk,
yet coronavirus (COVID-19) quarantine
drives dingbat to whole new level
wits end where sonar helps sound out his ilk.
Think me swallowing, gulping, and asphyxiating
essential experiencing ill humor versus zest
suddenly impossible mission life and death quest
in short oxygen with air supply
depleted blame climate change
analogous to getting trachea
severely pelted, pinched, pressed
nevertheless, I limber twigs to build a nest
simultaneously (choking, gagging, and laughing)
appeasing the impractical joker within/without
lame impersonation suave debonair beau geste
and pardon following hyperbole expressed.
More onerous (ha) to parish priests
tendering, regarding and administering last rites
aforementioned "fake" dead serious claim,
one little known prevaricator doth attest
(nip pulling excess milk of human kindness)
faux (pas and mine late ma)
gaming altruism confessed
dirty deeds done dirt cheap
hypothetically earning devout resuscitator
invoking divine intervention
upon impious hackneyed poetaster brownie points.
Now fur heal, aye really gotta
get get something off me chest
flagrant exaggerated golden opportunity analogous,
videre licet his achievements or service to country
Joy is what I had since a boy
Cheer is what I have ear to ear
Hope is what I need right now
Doubt is not the way out somehow
I suffocated myself with the silk of bilk
I was jaded and hated myself for years
Now I love myself with endless, encouraging tears
But, I forgive myself entirely so
Some days come and some quickly go though…time, like wings, fly away sometimes
I have reapt what I sowed…
Keeping my lawn of mind mowed
Sprinkle salt and pepper upon my distasteful flavor
You are my encouraging, empathetic endeavor
I lived my life in utter ruin and error
Unsure of what lies ahead, so unsure
Give me your subliminal messages
Take my hand
Time is against us…
Speechless as hell
XO is sent your way
OX is sent your way
Time and miles between us
I Got Hooked On You Like Unspoken Silence
Driven in your lane of insane
Collecting my tears in my jar of I-love-you’s
Spiderz crawl
I got goosebumps now
In the house of filth
Gossips spread like cancers
Feel the funk of light out of me…
Emitting elegantly off my skin
Dreamlessly in love
Paradise spills like spoiled milk on the floor
Biting down bilk…tasting your silk…
In my mouth…tension on my tongue
I expect company…I suspect danger from afar
I’m driven insane like a corner-riven car
Let me fly away
This sun-shining day
Sway away the dismay
Dreamt too long in this space I call Home
Paradise is with the bugs and the animals tonight
Daylight creeps in on me…
I don’t care anymore
Storms are in your eyes
Lightning burns on
Scorches and torches burn on
Till the dawn
Streams of cream run down my hair
I look at you in utter despair
I can’t be with someone I don’t know
I can’t be with someone I don’t know
Ringing in my ears…
Lasts for many years
Many British Thermal Units needed...
To heat these lovely bag of bones
more so than required to generate clones
aging musculoskeletal physique groans
kvetching synonymous nsync with exactly
indistinguishable among where generic
garden variety alter kocker and/or like
mummified Pharaoh moans.
Hence, I will beg, borrow or steal,
as profound philosophical thinker
oh no... no... no, this
non smoking bandit, nor drinker
will explain to police officer,
that me willingly doth plead
guilty as freshly showered stinker
without spectacles yours truly
can only blinker
if nabbed do time inside
state of the art clinker,
where ample heat warms hoodwinker
covering mine rickety musculoskeletal,
while escorted to attend requisite
appointment with headshrinker.
Token Doubting Thomas here
resorts to life of
petty crime without fanfare
for this common man
dirt poor bloke who doth air
(not that anybody
will rat's a$$, nor care
a jot regarding me
squalid financial welfare),
but analogous to Scrooge
grossly dislikes Xmas time of year
not always the case, cuz as lad din
Southeastern Montgomery County
one cute little boy with
short cropped hair,
(a 'curse unbiased
opinion), aye declare
Santa Claus and shopping amidst
madding crowd no living nightmare
like today December eighteenth
tooth how sinned nineteen
bajillion people angrily glare
with livid rage expect
whistleblowing thru air
courtesy bull-let-in aiming crosshair,
whereat vendors pushing merchandise
hooping he/she can scare
up brisk business, hence
caveat emptor i.e. buyer beware
aside from aforementioned
hypothetical scenario - won't ever
occur within glorious land
of bilk and money
America, the home of the free..., where
distribution of wealth very unfair.
Yukon still enjoy of beauty,
this po' witless can bet
dollars to donuts without
spending yourself silly
garnering mountain due of debt
subsequently weeping
(think guitar coming
unstrung at every fret),
thus... ya gotta get get
aware simple pleasures
experience mindfulness, such as
zipping across globe on private jet
hobnobbing with rich and famous,
then swing by utmost secluded un convent
chin null monastery, and meet...
nun other than one cell bated abbott.
Tea with Gran,her muffins supreme,
Bath and change and hair brylcreamed.
into town to the pub in the square,
our gang always met there.
Checking the football scores
in the Oxford 'green un'.
Trad jazz with Donegan,Bilk or Collier
or maybe the ballroom bacchanalia.
Skip,hip-hop or jive or more sedately
to the Friday Five.
A swift half of cider in the Bodega bar
sadlynone of us could afford a car.
Dropping a shilling in the snug juke
box,Haley and Elvis,then unorthodox.
Bought tickets for the coming live shows,
Cochrane,Cliff and Shadows.
Later, at the dance the last waltz about
to begin,if you were fancied ,it
showed in her coy grin.
Requesting a date took a little courage,
so glad my choice that day,led
to marriage.
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007