Long Blustered Poems
Long Blustered Poems. Below are the most popular long Blustered by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blustered poems by poem length and keyword.
Cold is the tittering of befitted feet
Cold is the meagre meanders of falling fractals
Cold is the twinge of bitter blues upon reeling retreats
Cold is the roiling retch of frostbitten flesh
Cold is the weary wench of an incomplete belch
Cold is the hoarded heath upon a ridiculed roof
Cold is the eerie ebb of a trepid twitch
Cold is the boyish bodice of meaningless man
Cold is the bane of bountiful bone held of chain to vein
Cold is the foiled figment of blustered breathes
Cold is the iridescent icicle of purified pain
Cold is the poignant punch of a sickened stench
Cold is the frivolous fawn of bludgeoned brain
Cold is the enticing ice of roiling rest
Cold is the belted buoyancy of a famished feign
Cold is the writhing wail of fraught forgiveness
Cold is the desolate depth of ailed eyes
Cold is the stringent stain of blotted blood
Cold is the rouged rememberance of pelting prise
Cold is the gaudy gulp of satin salvation
Cold is the harrowing hurry of soiling snow
Cold is the darkening winterous warmth of comforted coverage
Cold is the heeled horn of the sinner's wretched woe
And wretched be the cold of mutilated body, strapped to snow, falling in tow.
And cold be the sorrows of selfish self.
If I can choose my time to die
winter is my first choice
although I can imagine
any season could be good
for releasing ego’s hold
on troubled ecoEarth-engagement,
should there be such a long-named thing
when I choose my AnthroPrivileged time to die.
I would walk out through Earth's sacred trees
to caress and bid farewell
and thank them for this air we breathe
for their patience with my cut-down ways,
I would breathe my richest breath
into their root systems
as I walk on through
fading nests of deep sleep bees
breathing Life and Death
through rich swells of mad elation
rooted inside blustered breeze.
I would lie down on snow
under falling flakes
blanketing this final rest
gathering owl’s rich medicine
listening to her echoing
WhoAreYou
night-ride voice
twinkling back into this miracle nest
of snow-flaking stars
twinkling we kisses
us misses
through our gusty path
Lying down
as cold
and ego-bold
as silent snow.
Co-gravitating
co-arising
timeless
Earth-membered
conscious choice of times we live
to give
as freely as Earth’s melting glow.
Not not old and cold
timeless flowing
eco-fancy
circle dancing,
snow replacing silent stars,
Great Adventure’s rebirth light
Not bright
not might
not night
not sight
not fight
not left
or right.
He struts like a rooster in a gilded cage,
Tweets his manifesto, page by page.
Venezuela’s oil? “Mine, mine, mine!”
He shouts like a child, crossing every line.
Maduro yawns, sipping Maduro-brand rum,
Russia chuckles: “Here comes the scum.”
Beijing sips tea, eyebrows raised,
Watching the circus, utterly amazed.
“Sanctions!” he cries, waving a paper sword,
“Oil will bow, the world will applaud!”
But China just nods, “Cute little man,
Try that again — see if you can.”
Russia whispers, “Let him play,
We’ll cash in quietly while he flaps away.”
Venezuela smirks, Maduro’s grin,
“Oh, Trump thinks he’ll win? How thin.”
He tweets at midnight, demands a parade,
A hall of mirrors where deals are made.
Allies flee, foes giggle in halls,
The empire he builds? Just paper walls.
Every action a spectacle, every thought a meme,
The world watches, half laughter, half scream.
China, Russia, Venezuela — a trio of calm,
While Trump storms the stage with blustered charm.
Power and oil swirl in a dizzying spin,
He dances, he stomps, he spins in sin.
But satire bites sharper than gilded hair,
And the circus may crumble while he’s still there.
The Circus in Caracas
He prowls the stage with gold-lit hair,
A kingdom imagined, a lion in air.
Tweets crack like whips, warnings loud,
A circus of power, drawing the crowd.
Venezuela shivers beneath his claim,
Oil fields like jewels, a geopolitical game.
Maduro smirks, Russia nods with glee,
Beijing watches, calculating quietly.
Sanctions fly like confetti torn,
Promises of deals, of empire reborn.
But every boast, every law he bends,
Draws the world’s sharp gaze, foes and friends.
China leans in with icy disdain,
“Mess with us, and you’ll feel the chain.”
Russia waits with a soldier’s grin,
Watching the chaos he drags them in.
His mind races, plotting, aware,
But wisdom hides, lost somewhere.
A kingdom of tweets cannot hold the night,
When giants awaken and armies write.
Alliances fray like worn-out rope,
Oil flows, but so does hope.
For every risk, a price unseen,
A global stage, ruthless and mean.
He stands tall, yet shadows grow,
The circus erupts — who wins? Who bows?
Power tastes sweet, yet stings like flame,
And history waits to carve his name.
As is each day of years to come
~
O’ blustered winds - of coarseness flow
Upon these lips atone
Yon murmured fields of slowly strolled
To quest as if unknown
Lest I call these visions deemed
A’ crying o’er the heart
Breadth o’ mine own eyes hath seen
Nor fancied o’ thy part
It hath been of sorrowed sleep
O’ cast of humbled dreams
That I, for one ~ hath felt the thrill
A’ wash of what it seems
For as with all ~ who’ve angels smiled
And to the long of mind
Within my heart thy taste is real
Of you that I now find
For thee, I say ~ I now must weep
Thy joy engulfs my soul
To breathe is lost from what I see
This heart o’ my control
Happiness doth shed these tears
‘Tis moisture meant to show
O’er all that I hath known this past
My heart doth love thee so
I pray that I shall not awake
Yon beauty calls my sleep
For if mine eyes should find the sun
I fear that I shan’t keep
This love angelic I hath found
So forged this dream to see
As is each day ~ of years to come
Thy love doth come to me
Just having a little fun
From the murky skies...filled with a legion of clouds,
A brave haze descends upon the bastion of granite.
A deafening thud...shakes the fortress,
Alarming and instilling fear over the populace.
The city of stone...awakened...confronted...
The halls...blackened by the absence of torches.
Massive gusts...blustered the flames,
Dispersed echoes...scattered down the corridors,
As the ground quivered from the flap of wings.
A pallid moon illuminates doom,
An enormous silhouette...breathes a heavily rancid breath.
A late night attack from a winged serpent,
Intensifies the threat and terror...outlining defeat!
The royal armies defeat their battles,
But this is a battle that won’t be conquered.
The legends of yore...of gigantic beasts has come to pass.
And without inflicting harm...the silver serpent,
Leapt quietly...back into the night sky from which it came.
Leaving behind the horrific yet wonderful memory,
Of it’s mythic yet colossal presence...retold from the days of yore.
Of the curious eyes...from a stonily beast,
That stopped to see what shined...from the sky.
The Muffin and the Cupcake
Little miss muffin was resting one day
When a cute little cupcake came looking her way
The gaze he held, was saying one thing
I'm coming over to pull apron string
She blushed an blustered and turned all coy
But couldn’t resist the touch of the boy
Was this the mix she had waited for
Since she had sprung from the old oven door
He ambled over, his eye on her crest
He touched her side to physically test
He needed to see she was not a mirage
For he was battered by beauties barrage
He felt the warmth that swelled from her heart
And swore that day that they’d never part
He said, “My darling, with me will you run
I’ll take you a ride and we will have fun
For you are my muffin and I’m your cupcake
And nothing will sunder the bond that we make”
She took, his word, their lips came to meet
Was there ever before, kisses tasting so sweet
The last I heard, they had run away
And merrily danced in their love so they say
So muffin or cupcake, next time you eat
You may have destroyed, but their love not defeat.
As The Eagle, Came The Wind
As the Eagle, came the wind,
Above the high mountain peak.
And blustered ‘cross the valley
To the sound of raptor’s shriek.
Blowing from lofty mountain passes
Where the Eagle chased the breeze
Was the wind that lifted the Eagle
Circling over the forest trees.
The wind that stirred the valley
Was the Eagle’s strong winged beat.
And where the lone Eagle flew
Below its high mountain seat
Prey that saw the raptors beak,
Also heard the chill wind’s shriek.
Inspired by the poem
'There Came a Wind Like a Bugle'
by Emily Dickinson.
Barry Stebbings
23/06/2018
Rarely not windy
In the far flung
Squarely unfairly unsung
Seriously deliriously magical
Mystical..mythical Catlins
Rather adept at being
Scarily palaver kept..
Wild & warily windswept
Gusts crept not
Slowing then leapt
Boom & bust thrust lust
Not caring us despairing
Sussed trussed trees cussed
Unruly unjust showing growing
Glaring..nonplussed
Haring..not fussed
Duly well &
Truly cruelly blowing
A helluva Hooley
Mean flurry of almost obscene
Breeze seems in no hurry to ease.
Smashed...whacked...bashed.. smacked
Lashed...by gusting...busting galloping gales
Never fails to leave me blustered and flustered
Lolloping..at the end of my tether
Amazed by crazed walloping weather
Raised & mustered
Brazen Mother Nature dolloping
All turned to custard
Surely they will pass...these fast blasts can't last
No need to be cryptic..it's almost apocalyptic
Have we sinned against the god of wind
Feel the real deal glee of Taw Fee Ree (Maori God of Wind)
Maybe he might hear me...respond to this plea...
Help our plight...let us alight from
The fight against the fright
Flight of breezy bite blight..
Just some respite
But it is quite a sight
Wild fling..Aotearoa spring can bring..
Darkness & light
Centre staging..in the raging...roaring..rampaging forties
No point deploring..knocking..ignoring
Shocking haughty windy warlocks
Soaring..scoring..rocking the joint
Warring.. doing their naughty thing
...McClors rode up, and smiled quite thin,
He said,”Woman, get away from him!
You come with me now, and it will suffice.
You play more of these games, and you’ll get the knife.”
“See I’m in no mood for dumb girlish stunts—”
A blast roared out, and McClors gave a grunt.
From the back of his horse the villain did flop,
His chest torn apart from a load of buckshot.
Adam he turned while all sat there stunned,
And found the three lackies with his scatter-gun.
The horses they stomped, the lackies they blustered
Stupidly bunched in one great, big cluster.
The other barrel it was already cocked,
And Adams laid waste to the thugs with one shot!
Two died right quick, and the third man moaned,
Trapped underneath his dead mangled roan.
Adams stalked up, stared down at the man,
He said,”Listen up now, or forever be damned.
It seems strange to say it, amdist this strife,
But I’ve decided to make this woman will my wife.”
“So I’ll let you live, and run back to the town,
And tell all the people the way things are now.
This woman right here none shall disrespect,
And if I see you back here, I’ll stretch your damn neck!”
The lackie he stumbled and faltered away
Miriam had no words, nothing she could say.
Adam nodded. “I’d accept your offer,
But I think there’s a better one that I can proffer.”
“If you don’t mind a killer for a husband,
Than you and I will go to Reverend Dan,
Cause I still have a few good kith and good kin
Who wouldn’t approve of us living in sin.”
And so they went down, and so they were wed
And raced to his home, barely making it to the bed.
The mayor later stopped by, still half-rattled with fear,
And said “ ’twas all self-defense! It’s perfectly clear.”
Now Kline he lucked out with his newfound bride,
She gave him seven kids, their joy and their pride.
And as they years went by, their pasts they did fade,
Both found some peace in the life they had made.
Though still some townsfolk whispered of her,
But said nothing aloud to avoid Adam’s anger.
From that day at the ranch, till death came in time
She was known simply as: Misses Miriam Kline.
Bronwyn the Barbaric amassed admirers
like oceans collect river-flow
Streams of suitors all tried to woo her
each determined to be her “best beau”
But our fair pirate queen was a fickle young lass
whose attention was hard to retain
She'd have no truck whatever with crude fellows crass
insisting they possess “half a brain”
She longed for a man both witty and charming
dressed rakishly jaunty and vogue
With manners debonair and smile disarming
('though a bit of a rascally rogue)
Few chaps could achieve these high standards, indeed
yet, one day she met him- and he did!
He was dashing, all agreed, on his wild stallion steed
a sight to behold- resplendent!
And Bronwyn herself, couldn't help but admire
this arrogant, haughty young blaggard
by the name of Beauregard Brody, Esquire
how he bragged, and blustered, and swaggered!
Sailing into his arms, Bronwyn swooned straight away
and they would've composed quite a pair
if only her dog hadn't got in the way
of their breathless and heated affair
Bronwyn's sidekick was a pup quite precocious
all beautifully soft, plush and furry
but she was surprisingly fierce and ferocious
sending most people off in a hurry
Yes, Hellion was a marvelous part-Husky pooch
with one eye brown, and one blue
who took great offense at each intimate smooch
with each snuggle, her distrust grew