Long Bizarre Poems
Long Bizarre Poems. Below are the most popular long Bizarre by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bizarre poems by poem length and keyword.
A bizarre light show streaked across the sky.
The blinding lightning seemed to explode and electrify.
a
l
o
n
g
w
i
t
h
t
h
e
t
h
u
n
d
e
r
Vivid flashes of color to the clouds and everything under.
Striking blasts of illumination floodlit the night.
In total awe we eagerly witnessed this amazing sight.
Breaking the silence, more crashes of thunder came booming down.
Deafening the unsuspecting residence of our Sydney town.
A mind boggling spectacle was being played out.
Unable to hear ourselves think, we couldn't even shout.
A memorable night, never happened before, maybe never again.
Now along with the thunder, comes torrents of rain.
Atop a grassy hill I sit,
gazing at the rich azure blue sky
watching a few birds fluttering in and out of my vision,
slicing through the air like knives.
I lie there for what feels like an eternity,
wind turbine turning in calculated motion
out of the corner of my eye.
My rucksack ties me to the ground,
filled with a thousand weights,
preventing me from being like those birds,
majestic, elate and carefree.
But I can imagine.
The innocent silky clouds transform and bend,
producing a multitude of bizarre objects,
an army commanded by the wind
sauntering across the horizon.
A world with no end, limited only by mortal minds,
a mini-universe floating just above our heads.
We are the creators of this fictional world,
where human though unfurls.
I see an emerald dragon,
a group of chariot wagons, their horses galloping.
A circus filled with the most exotic animals,
an ivy snake laced with diamonds,
a canoe slicing through the sky.
A gnarly oak,
its trunk encased, fingers reaching infinitely high.
But each world is different for every one of us,
so tell me; what do you see
when you let your imagination
break free?
Am I fated to dwell in this cruel and heartless place
where hands writhe like snakes, concealing a face?
Is there salvation to be found from those horrid things
that dangle grotesque heads from spider web strings?
I've searched the most remote corners of my mind
for an answer to this atrocity, but not one could I find
I long for a human sanctuary where I can be set free
from the groping of cold fingers reaching out for me.
Mankind has become callous, an abstract machine,
plodding about to the beat of the same tambourine.
It's a robotic society, blind to the needs of others
with an indifference that stifles until it smothers
When did this world become one of selfish greed
where everyone takes so much more than they need
Clawing hands that troll from only God knows where
in a pestulant society. It's become more than I can bear
In this bizarre perdition, humans can no longer engage
I must guard my emotions from inside a Draconian cage
I seek death as means to escape this brutal barbaric place
and donning a shroud, I withdraw from this robotic race
I feel something’s close at hand…it’s hard to unchain myself
From angst and utter mortification
I feel so lost, swimming on my own…it’s hard to find my way out of this mess
I feel like giving up…but I should get up…
I feel myself drifting away…each shard of my brain
Withers away…just like the day getting devoured by nightfall
I feel drenched in silence…I don’t know if I’m going insane
I feel like drowning in my shame...But, I’m searching for the rope of hope
I must keep trying…
It’s about time I put a stop to my senseless crying
But, I feel that I’m left to figure my way out of the bemusing maze…but that’s not true
Because He is with me...day and night
‘cause He is watching over me…
Dousing me with His light…
Sometimes, I feel so afraid…but I know a few things that are true:
He can mend a broken spirit and a broken heart
He can give me relief and hope from high above…
He can lead me somewhere safe and save me from the death cart
And save my heart from breaking into shards
I’m drowning in tears of sorrow and shame…
I’m a wandering sheep…getting hunted down like game…
I feel stuck in the chambers of my own mind…it’s tough to unchain myself
From solitude, but I must snap out of my agitation
I still feel like I’ve met my end…around the river bend…I’m left untouched on the shelf
I feel like swimming out of the perilous sea…whirling with confusion
I’m washing away into the abstract, dynamic ocean…each piece of my heart
Is casted away…just like the stone I tossed, skipping to and fro on the river’s surface
I fly away from my solitude cage…I promise I won’t break apart…I’ll take heart
I will escape my misery…though I’ve doubted my ability to take wing…but I must keep trying…
I will try to believe and go the distance…
Despite the bizarre sensations I feel…
With fanciful thoughts swarming like locusts,
When my mind runs bizarre, I look for a quiet spot
To sit and jot them down, not bothering if they ring or rhyme
At times, like gurgling streams, so noisy, they flow.
Or like dew drops, gently moistening the grass,
They come and quietly settle, on the white surface.
Unable to be imprisoned within
The structured frame of a song,
My thoughts, at times, take wings and fly,
Like Aladdin’s magic carpet.
They carry me along to lands unknown
And regions never travelled!
As we fly, we watch from above the magic tapestry
Of sculptured rocks, green arcades and silvery streams
And lose in the beauty of this spinning globe,
So amazing to view
The ride being so pleasant, soon the elements dissolve
And time runs out.
I even forget, I do exist
Ascending higher and higher, with a rare lightness of being,
On wings so weightless, the world of truth fades completely out,
Until like a thistledown so weightless I float along with clouds,
Propelled by the buoyancy of the air.
Looking from those alien shores,
At times I catch a glimpse of Heaven,
Beyond the far rims of the horizon.
Then my soul leaps in such exquisite rapture
And my unuttered thoughts burst into a song!
Nov. 29.2022
2022 . Marathon Mile.26. Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Mark Toney
Unfit Gifts
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
At sunrise, I cast my nets into the sea,
dredging up the strangest and most beautiful objects from the depths ...
some radiant like smiles, some glittering like tears, others flushed like brides’ cheeks.
When I returned, staggering under their weight, my love was relaxing in her garden, idly tearing leaves from flowers.
Hesitant, I placed all I had produced at her feet, silently awaiting her verdict.
She glanced down disdainfully, then pouted: "What are these bizarre things? I have no use for them!"
I bowed my head, humiliated, and thought:
"Truly, I did not contend for them; I did not purchase them in the marketplace; they are unfit gifts for her!"
That night I flung them, one by one, into the street, like refuse.
The next morning travelers came, picked them up and carted them off to exotic countries.
Who in the darkness follows me
Now I hear a sound very near
I turn around and almost faint
What's going on tonight is so bizarre
I see weird things all the day
Footsteps and shadows make me prey
Ghostly figures fly the air
I'm about to lose all my wits
I want to race home so fast
Witches cackle right past me
Vampires in flowing long,black capes
Bare their fangs and look so ghast
Who in darkness follows me
Scaring me grisly and silly
My heart is beating like a drum
Around me the air is turning chilly
Tonight, the night is so shrilly
It's the Night of Halloween!
Goblins,demons, witches and guillotines
I am turning sickly and green
It's Halloween Night!
Children in costumes go trick or treat
Door by door to every street
And they carry bags filled of sweets
It's Halloween Night!
Who in the darkness follows me
I see grinning witches and Jack 'O lanterns
I'm racing so scared, as they follow me home tonight.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2014
October,31,2014
All poems are unfinished
Only those in sonnet are finished
Completed, done, and terminated
A poem can still be edited
Revised, retouched and rewritten
A poem is a powerful tool or weapon
Leave alone my unfinished poems
These are my spices, my stars, my emblems
You don't understand their symbols
And the words used to fill up the bowls
You just have to read my poems ten times
To fully comprehend them. Ignore the rhymes
To pay more attention to the vernacular
They are not bizarre; they are just particular
They are not regular; they are unfinished
They are not strange, they are simple. Kabish!
Copyright © July 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
We used to hop into the car
And, thinking back seems so bizarre,
We would drive, never slow
To the place where we’d go
And we’d get there, no matter how far.
We would always find places to park
In the daylight and also the dark.
With reliable wheels
We would know how it feels
To take off someplace, just for a lark.
But today is a different scene.
All you drivers know just what I mean,
For despite having WAZE
You’ll be stuck in a maze
Since the traffic is really obscene.
So, if thinking of taking a ride,
Either take all the traffic in stride
Or resort to Plan B
Which is, take it from me,
Much less stressful – it’s staying inside!
The aroma of a cigar in the morning and that same evening Stevie Van Zandt on the cover of a book…what do these two things have in common…let’s take a closer look.
That morning on our walk as we neared the water…something quite bizarre…mixed with the distinctive smells of the ocean…was the aroma of a cigar.
Immediately triggering in me a memory…a memory that brings me joy…of how my Dad enjoyed a good cigar when I was but a boy.
I was greeted with a smile by the man smoking…I’m sure he never realized how he had from the aroma of his cigar helped me walk a moment with my dad.
“Is that Stevie Van Zandt?” A woman asked me in the bookstore that evening soon after my shift began. I nodded as she held the book telling me, “My husband was his biggest fan.”
Sadness filled her face for a moment…until joy pushed it away so fast…
“My husband would have loved this book.” She said. “Unfortunately he’s passed.”
“She told me a little about her husband and their life (but I think she was talking mostly to herself) then she lovingly touched Stevie Van Zandt’s face as she returned him to the shelf.
There is a beauty in not knowing what things we might touch, taste, smell or see…that will…without a warning…trigger, in us, a memory.
A joyful memory of someone we loved whose path we were lucky to have crossed…reminding us, for a moment, how much we had…not how much we lost.
On this particular day…as it began…and as it ended…all it took….
was the aroma of a cigar…and Stevie Van Zandt’s face upon a book.