Long Brew Poems
Long Brew Poems. Below are the most popular long Brew by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brew poems by poem length and keyword.
The truth lies between the pages
Within the relationship the reader journeys through
The thoughts that silence and call you
Truthful relationships with all we go through
Bleeding for me
Bleeding for you
Hearts that become two
Brew it up and make a stew
Piece it together, dancing duaL
Trial and error we all walk through
But not without hope
Within Jesus Salvation is due..
A gift given for free
For those that believe and seek the truth
Man cannot rule.man
So let your father step through
Those commandments became apart of me..
And you
2 Corinth 5:21
What's before 123?
0-
Holy
See through the unseen..for that is the mystery
please lemme know and honestly profess
if profusion of words create a lingual Loch Ness
(when hens canst come home to roost
especially, encountering
the following conglomeration
in matthew scott harris patois).
He readily admits writing inventive
attempts usually ten tubby a literary mess,
thus finding innocent cyber cruisers
Angle fishing for Saxony fundamental fluidity
courtesy of Freudian stream of consciousness,
gabbling gibberish, muck not done on purpose
and certainly less
to impress.
Gnome hatter intent toward
cogency, fancy ingenuity,
levity, the inevitable
resultant wrought gobbledygook
fascination for Lingua Franca
feeble endeavor splutters, splinters,
and splatters Asia Yukon guess.
Paramour status analogous with twenty six letters,
sans En gull Lush Mother tongue confluence
finds me submerged (as an Arctic Monkey)
swimmingly enervated
via erotic laced sentiments
perhaps finds bravely daring soul madly
hollering, gesticulating floundering,
(in close proximity to Davey Jones's locker)
to avoid drowning at sea
perchance comprehending passionate influence.
Upon espying a signature poem of mine
forces one pre ponder ring lurking predilection
tib hush anonymous re:
dears (dares) adventuresome mettle
taking him/her to the brainy
(briny) deep brink
Icon fess
this (NON FAKE) pretense, why
aye metaphorically express
(via medium of ordinary Anglophile
alphabetic wanton soup,
or figurative egg drop bub
bling broth (el) doth brew)
pronouns Sibyl affectation
affliction sans plethora,
where each ladle full adrip with
richly flavor Verdana Font lee
and sincerely textured vocabulary.
Pluperfect mortals beings undoubtedly feel
(blindsided, how this hunger stricken author
suffers said sesquipedalian syndrome
particularly expectorating flashy
hoping tum bark on successful literary quest)
hyper aware aspiring paperback writers wannabe
might stoop to conquer, cheat, cadge
vis a vis plagiarize plethora
amidst storied plentiful English droppings.
Rather than succumb pretense feigning paucity
temptation to bask exultantly,
professed glorious unrequited love
announcing required sworn vow,
(el lye ding) avowed consonant covenant.
Form:
Helplessly, I saunter in and step into the line.
Drawn into the store by the aroma so devine.
I reach inside my pocketbook and quickly rummage through.
Finally, some dollars, to get my morning brew.
Intoxicating, rich and dark, I never can resist.
Penetrating every pore just like a lover’s kiss.
The line moves ever slowly until I’m there at last.
Underneath a magic spell the precious drink has cast.
Eventually, with brew in hand I’m quickly on my way.
Secure in thought that I can now begin my hectic day.
Liquid treasure in a cup that slowly calls my name.
Lost in sweet seduction, every morning it's the same.
A misconception is the tale
That we should dread October's spell
It's time to wear your scary faces
For cloudy nights, and creepy spaces!
Mummies stretch by light of day
Ghouls in shadows want to play
Ghosts, behind the pillars, peek
They practice wailing, tune their shrieks
Spiders weave around the room
A wart-nosed witch will mend her broom
The cauldron cleaned with spit and shine
Prepared to hold a drink of slime
With tasty toads and wormy molds
It boils steamy brew that's bold
Graveyards readied, dark with gloom
Bats in belfries wait for doom
No need to dread the harvest moon
All Hallow's Eve is coming soon
They've all worked hard to be prepared
Join the party, IF YOU DARE!!
""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
For Linda Marie's Contest: Creatures of the Night
By Carrie Richards
no diminution in tiredness arose
gnome hatter how off tin ma dis bows
Zoe let his bot tee succumb,
via mental application
of autogenic phrases
and/or counting crows
cuz upon awakening,
aye immediately wanted ta doze,
thus this artful dodger hankered to expose
extreme cockamamy idea incumbent,
where corporeal essence gets froze
zen, the scientific procedure named
emergency preservation
and resuscitation (EPR)
more familiarly known
as suspended animation
pursuant under the appellation cryogenics,
where living tissue no longer grows
old, a wishful yearning
approximating immortality i sup hose,
yet this copacetic drowsy
generic human struggled in vain
trying with utmost effort to stay awake
Swiss to hobnob among urbane
feeling helpless (fearing
he might be narcoleptic),
nonetheless aye didst train
intent concentration
(and/or feeble exertion mustered)
to swat away worrisome thought
this hypochondriac,
could be afflicted with mononucleosis
since lassitude less likely sprung
from overcast and rain
knee skies, which type weather
generally energies me
to conjure a quatrain
sometimes complex versus
written straight away plain
panacea hit upon finally
to ward off sleepiness,
whereby literary endeavor
boosted by a strong brew
namely fair trade
manufactured coffee chew
zing among socially conscious entities,
and hoping to do
some dollop of positivity
without fanfare I eschew
to fulfill personal hue
man conscientious anonymous impact
that some benefit will en sue.
Walks we took, across the bridge and down the ridge we'd climb
He'd catch himself to shorten steps, while I'd be stretching mine
With fields to plow, and milking cows, yet he always made the time
One look beyond the bridge of time, and childhood can rewind
Those summer days, soon passed away, yet love just lingers on
How simple all the world seemed then, unfurled beneath the sun
Together we would brew mischief, while chewing juicy gum
We'd talk about most anything, and walk till the daylight dimmed
I'd look to him, with questions, grand, then, he would give them thought
He'd scratch his head, and often said, "I'll answer the best that I can"
Then explain in words I understood, and knew that less was good
"How many stars are in the sky?" ..."Well, Sugar Pie,... a lot!!"
If I could choose a single day .....across the span of time...
Where the sun was gold, the stream was cold, the skies were bluer blue
A quiet place...his whiskered face, the grace he showed to me
We'd walk our pace, across the bridge, where greener grass would grow....
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Brown brew cuppa gall:
Espresso insights;
Bitterness installs
A sanguine delight.
Blurry eyes twitch fast,
A profound instance;
Awareness can blast
That sleepy distance.
Awkward moments slide,
Blur wakefulness slings;
Consciousness abides
In caffeine brew sting.
Morning cuppa fix,
A moment aligns;
Whatever comes next
Awareness designs.
Morning sensations:
Blur swirling unease;
Coffee pulsations
To climax blunt ease.
Here's to the new dawn:
In brown brewing cup;
I sing to the morn
In fond caffeine rub.
Off to new madness
In conscious mind map;
Breeze into gladness
Ere energy sap!
Leon Enriquez
27 May 2015
Singapore
Written: January 18, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Robert James Liguori
**************
The skies seemed erratic with dull rage.
A freakish breeze is beginning to gage.
Their pompous struggle across the sea.
Evocative of some sort of antique age.
From distant swale, a solid hush withdrew
As recalcitrant clouds began to brew.
Their chatoyant bellies flashed gilded fire,
A strong omen no sailor could misconstrue.
Then came the foofaraw — a copious roar,
Waves irrupt as beasts against the shore.
A shellback cursed the tempest’s devil heart,
Calling it a gossip bent on settling a score.
The wind, verbose in its wilful might,
Rebuked the cliffs through the howling night.
Its fustian bellow is inspissated with rain
Turned every halcyon memory into fright.
Lightning carved a partita through the sky,
A wild, sequacious dance that dared not die.
Thunder replied with slippery weight,
Thick and rolling, an aficionado reply.
The sea spun an enigma of rising foam.
A xenogenesis of chaos away from home.
Even gulls, those fickle arbiters of storm.
Quite a false peace where shades roam.
Yet with the storm girlish force and might,
Through every sanguine hope taking flight,
A lone lantern glimmered in limpid defiance,
A spark of courage refusing the night.
And when dawn chose to liaise with the land,
Its brief gold brushed the waves as a hand
Coddling the wreckage, gentle and genteel,
As if forgiving the storm for all it had planned.
• Those Meat Pies/Tony Adamo/2011
Straight to the head groove in hip time/ lay me out man It's jam time/ Ya know the funk is slight/ It's tight/ bright syllables in five four time/Walkin' the beat on low down street/ her hips got me in a deep trip/ high on the smell of her sex/ her ex is Ted the freaky flex/ sippin a black coffee brew on a hot musky day/ lovin you baby is the only way/walkin' the dog on a four lane highway/ drum sticks as chop sticks/ Man do fries go with that shake/ subway fusion' dance hall bumpin' grinding bodies to the iphone dance/ can you see it? Love has got you in the trance/ the acid head trip/ street corner junkies lyin' bout their lives/ mama makin' those meat pies/ dive in brother and sisters the hipsters teachin" ya how to side step the squares/ have it your way love on the rocks with a hard knock chaser/ Man I'm flyin out JFK/ get me outta here I changed my mind straight up/ my passport says Paris France/ My feet say hip me to the nearest dance/ Where's that ladder at? I need to climb out of this heat/ Art Blakey and the jazz messengers birdland brunin/better grab your girlfriend cause she's in love with the band/ Clifford Brown/
Brownie was the man/ dead at 25/his influence lay heavy on those young cats
including Donald Byrd, Lee Morgan, Booker Little, Freddie Hubbard, Woody Shaw, Wallace Roney,/ I put a match book cover under a table lag to help me balance up my thoughts on settin up shop to sell my jazz vinyl / No free give away today/ wait was it true/ the great Gerry Mulligan was waiting tables at a little jazz dive called the ashtray/ waiting for the nite to fall so he could jump the stage and free himself/ be himself into the kool jazz scene/(Chet Baker Sings, It Could Happen to You/ Me? yes you bro/ Mike Clark and the Headhunters/ What was that he said?/ oh it's Thelonious Monk in shades and beret/ diggin life the Thelonious way
Tony Adamo Hipspoken Word
Darkness gives birth to Light
I was once a victim of Narcissist's spite
Blinded by love I desired to feel and see
Instead I saw truth and faced reality
Awakened, consciously A fool no more
My Name is Karma, I came to settle the score!
Peace and Purity my domain, and then you came
With comforting promises and sweet nothings you played your game
With a sincere heart for you adoration grew
Your Deceit well masked, your mendacious actions brew
Perfidious lover you shall be no more
My Name is Karma, I came to settle the score!
Like a phoenix out of the ashes I rise
My sacred flame will disintegrate your shady disguise
The same toxic dish you served on my plate
Will be fed to you, you will meet your fate
Imposter! To you I have shut my door
My name is Karma I came to settle the score!