Long Bloc Poems
Long Bloc Poems. Below are the most popular long Bloc by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bloc poems by poem length and keyword.
The worst of cures
He had bought a flat in a new apartment bloc still not ready for the buyers, but since it was Sunday, he drove to the building to have a look risky surgery and worried he might live long enough to move into his new home in time
A lift had been installed took it up to the seventh floor, flat looked roomy although it had no floor or windows there was a terrace without railing on the terrace he took in the view, could see the bay and the ocean, the sun warmed his face
Suddenly, he burped, had a blob of something foul in his mouth which spat out in disgust, saw it make a splash on the asphalt that turned green where the blob landed, this caused him to lose balance and without a railing a fatal fall
The obduction showed his body was cancer free
I tested negative a few days ago,
the virus has yet to find my ink
to write another obituary.
I hugged my family and invited
friends for dinner, drinking, dancing
and singing, making the old days
return sooner, at least for a night.
Children have no monopoly on
childish thoughts. I imagined the virus
disappear one day like a miracle,
superstitious or not.
Then as I was cooking a nice meal and
thinking of walking my pesty dog round the bloc,
got a call from a medic trying hard to
pronounce my name correctly, with
deep and since apology informed me of
the error: my test was positive. I know what
comes next, my step-sister will think the
worst, accusing me of intentional homicide.
But, I 'm not dead yet, it's not too late,
to invite her a second time, to make sure
we'll both die in the same hospital -- the heroic baton
I cannot reward myself.
Remember, centuries ago we met
I'th' glorious garden of a hillock.
Then the morose sun was about to set,
And euphoric birds were flying en bloc.
Yonder the crimson streaks reddened the clime
And thy visage adorned with unfurled love—
Strange and secluded beauty hard to mime
E'en by the variegated sky above.
The red river paled into a black brook
As our silhouettes made love to small stars—
A nonpareil nocturne from warblers’ nook
Let in it our conflux of hearts immerse.
The quaint queen of night made thy meek hair shine,
Till my famished lips coalesced with thine.
13th September, 2016
Morbid fascination (mine) as covid-19 pandemic...
foments rampant monopoly on bedlam
Wreaking ball (his stick) havoc (think ostensible
civil war scale not seen since Vietnam),
whereby microorganisms jamb
*****sapiens immunity system
complements of gook
resembling green eggs and ham
necessitating Doctor Seuss
to stoke bram
bullying cat in the hat
on a hot tin roof damn
senseless cant be understood
Matthew Scott Harris argot sham
bulls (red dilly), and sallies forth
with neither reason only rhyming flimflam.
All Joe King aside - at any rate,
yours truly, (a generic garden variety reprobate),
not hell bent to receive nasty hate
male courtesy vexatious reader to berate,
cuz unwelcome chide and chime
prompts gnome mad tick versifier
to test (ease silly) to provoke ye to fulminate.
Humanity now fishtails helter skelter
across oblate spheroid courtesy coronavirus
global pandemonium unleashed
expletive maniacal tsunami
(think) metaphorical groundswell
primates hurry scurry to and fro,
hither and yon frenziedly
pell-mell housing random erratic
discombobulated, bobble headed
(simulating) quasi Brownian movements
at warp speed embarked
upon impossible mission.
Here I paraphrase (er... rather plagiarize)
President John F. Kennedy,
whereby he delivered on January 20, 1961
his inaugural address in which he announced
"we shall pay any price, bear any burden,
meet any hardship, support any friend,
oppose any foe to assure the survival
and success of liberty."
Though the then USSR
(Union of Soviet Socialist Republics),
now identified as
union of Soviet socialist republics
helped cook who nurse (and ratchet)
state of political hostility
existed between Soviet bloc countries
and US-led Western powers
from 1945 to 1990.
Our present crisis I aim(ed) to show touché
(pardon mum oddest tee) culinary poetic entree,
how bajillions of people mercilessly
unfairly subjected to influenza like agony
exhibiting following symptoms:
cough, fever, tiredness, difficulty breathing
(severe cases), yet
many met their untimely demise
with prompt care, nonetheless minimal delay
ferried them to awaiting quay
where Charon doth ferry
dead souls across Rivers Styx and Acheron
resignedly where forced to abandon treasures they
must relinquish all trapping he/she did parlay.
I am an Angler.
I sit in the dark.
The walls suffocate me with my agitation.
I am an Angler.
I am not like you.
I am from the depths of the ocean.
I am an Angler.
Predators may eat me alive.
They manifest a death strip, one which I cannot pass.
I am an Angler.
My curiosity is held prisoner deep in my mind.
I long to break down the walls, and to explore a new world of light and liberty.
I am an Angler.
There may be many around me, but here I sit alone.
There is no light, no sound, no hope, to carry my words.
I am an Angler.
I heard a sound.
A sound that I have never heard.
I am an Angler.
A sound of toppling.
I dare say it gave me life.
I am an Angler.
My body acts on impulse.
I swim to what I think is up.
I am an Angler.
I do not know what I’ll find.
I do not know my destination.
I am an Angler.
My delusion has taken me past where I've never gone.
But I was not alone.
I am an Angler.
The coming light shined on us.
Me and the thousands of others, rushing to the top.
I am an Angler.
The adrenaline, a feeling I have never known.
It is beautiful that you can feel things.
I am an Angler.
Where were the predators?
The ones that kept me confined in the bloc.
I am an Angler.
I saw the surface.
The checkpoint to freedom.
I am an Angler.
The Iron Curtain unraveled.
I may see the sun.
I am an Angler.
You may see me now.
I am just like you.
stream of consciousness
A laughing clown filled the heavenly screen
full of malic, behind him, men were eating children
Wine and blood ran down their chests
they had the time of their life
Freedom to exploit the weak and call it democracy
they were friendly and offered me a child's soft arm and thigh
I shook my head, walked on to find my way home
There it was, shining bright on a hill in the afternoon light
The apartment bloc had no entrance
ropes hung from windows
My flat was on the third floor, painted by a mad Russian
who was eaten by wolves in the forest he painted
I tried to climb up vital for me to get home
I was too weak to slide down, and my hands burst into flame
I put my hands in a bucket of water that turned into wine
that I coolly drank
A fire engine hosted by, I stopped the motor and asked
for a ladder, they had no time to help
so, many other hands-on fires that night
I walked to the ever-lasting river, sat on a stone, listened
to the universal language
I let go and became the river
The sun is hammering down on my face.
Memories that move across a puzzling place.
Smooching all the way back down to my skin.
My cheeks are flushed with tears from the past.
My greedy spirit is taught by a glorious blast.
An ovate calm circle springs to mind tips.
I plunge forward into the crimson abyss.
Freed my caged heart from its custody.
Fearful people have shelter from the world.
In my quest, I am ushered by the primal words.
Mounted shadily on a huge salt-staining rock
Looking toward the abyssal distance bloc.
White shades blend with galaxies and light.
A vibrant brushstroke boson over the skyline.
Sky and the ocean in a lover's arms and whine.
Written: March 20, 2022
an entry for Constance LaFrance's contest
Write a Beautiful Rubaiyat Poem
Make a discovery, well-worth your time!
Compare instant coffee to Starbuck's prime,
I-Hop's waffles to those frozen en bloc.
Voila! steel cut oats! makes hunger bells chime.
Use the stove to boil some salt water stock;
turn it down low and pile oats in the crock.
(what’s half an hour? I've a paper to read.)
I have retired and I don't watch the clock.
Lots of brown sugar and butter you'll need,
takes thirty minutes to coddle this feed.
Add whatever, the next verse gives my notes.
Steel-cut oats will get breakfast up to speed.
Include raisins which drift like little boats
in the sugary-rich, buttery moat.
For a breakfast or any meal sublime
include nuts. Then just grab a spoon and gloat.
The economy is falling to the ground, and the drills cannot be found;
The economy is running in the pit, and the pit is full of s**t. how did it get
to this with all the expertise and profit?
You have gone off the path and have left the people to scramble in the dark.
Negotiations are at a stand-still, and you say that you are doing “heavens will”
With all the help that you have got the economy walking around without shoes or socks
You have left the nation to fret, yet you say that you are doing your outmost best.
You have passed through the avenue of time, and your popularity has fallen off the line.
What is your next move when you have lost your only pair of shoes?
The trees are shaking in the ground, and the wilderness is spinning around
You have run out of solutions despite your heartfelt ambition
There is one thing that you can do to turn this thing around is to accept wartime defeat
And the journey will instantly complete,
And if that doesn’t work you have to continue digging up the dirt
The negotiation game is lost for you have upset the boss,
so, form an emergency negotiation team to uphold the organization’s dream
you cannot grow yourself out of it you must make solid profit.
You cannot shift from game to game; it is going to drives the people insane
You must keep the goal in mind even when you are falling off the line.
Change the direction when you stumble on the bloc but keep the goal intact to get the economy back on track. The Pandora box is opened everywhere, and the music is flying in the air. Greeting and salutation to you, keep your focus and your goals and objects will come to life and redeem the challenge and sacrifice.
Everyone is feeling the squeeze, and some people are very stingy and mean
They don’t know what to do when they are walking around without shoe
Their children cannot go to school for there is no money to buy their shoe,
unemployment is at an all-time high, and inflation is towering to the sky
this is the reality of some home while you are gallivanting on the throne
you have got to get it right before for the universe is full of life.
Greeting and salutation to you
I am convinced that my childhood dreams will come true
So do what you have to do!
"Stalemate"
Words mean nothing
to me when the
sky is sucked out
from the lungs
of people
dying daily
where do I
put my love
when cities
are dying
lucid writing disappears
vacant, lost, dead
war orphans
stolen children
the beautiful
innocence torn
to pieces, parents
buried bloody
Stalemate
tear stained
souls stand up
fierce ghosts
arms holding guns
praying their
beautiful poems
glory
like a river runs
all my stories
are empty
lines of
murderous
crows
black shadows
sentences
locked
bullets
shoot the full stops
stalemate
waiting
in the
impossible place
another
Progressive Bloc
manifesting amnesty
watching
the sky fall
under
mushroom clouds
on a strange
new world
standing still
stalling for time
to kill
the venomous
monster
demon tsar
Voldemort
the devil sits aloof
playing chess
with his insanity
back to the wall
alone in his
frozen friendless
Kremlin
he’s a cowboy
when he’s triggered
standing still
stalling for time
watching
the sky fall
under
mushroom clouds
on a strange
new world
waiting
for Morning Star
to show his face
in a smoke filled
blue sky haze
riding bareback cavalry
he’s a cowboy
when he’s triggered
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"My Love" / Florence & the Machine
https://youtu.be/cJmXCP5ErJQ
"I was always able to write my way out
Song always made sense to me
Now I find that when I look down
Every page is empty
There is nothing to describe
Except the moon still bright
against the worrying sky ..."
LYRICS/ "My Love", Florence & the Machine
https://genius.com/Florence-the-machine-my-love-lyrics