Long Bromide Poems
Long Bromide Poems. Below are the most popular long Bromide by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bromide poems by poem length and keyword.
"And Today's Special is Wine and Cheese"
Some wine and cheese
If you would please
Depressed, I cannot express myself for I’m being oppressed and repressed
Yet, I reside in the west, my lines are treated as an unwelcome guest
I’ve ornamented ideas that will go unheard
Reading them will be seen as a vulture transcribed word
“A Stale Birthday Cake,” could be submitted
But a lot of terms are not permitted
If I leave those texts out to describe my rage
It might as well be written in the stone age
Here’s an example, “ , ” substantial white noise is found on this page
“The Penetralia Ruby Queen,” hint, the anatomy
But, is there no shame, outcry, how dare I, the audacity
It conveys about some person with a dancing nymph’s fantasy
But it altercates against the morals of Christianity
Here’s an example, “ , ” undeniably excommunicated for blasphemy
The villainous bark, scream, “Cultures Dark Theme”
It’s something written from a nightmare’s dream
If submitted, it would drive the masses into insanity
Yet, this piece of work prohibits the usage of profanity
Here’s an example, “ , ” silenced because others must be spared of its inhumanity
“The World’s Playground” still waiting to see if it gets banned
Negligent in comprehending the rules beforehand
The lyrics uses a word to describe a person who gets paid
In an ideal world, I could just switch the rhyme to being laid
Here’s an example, “ ,” my apologies for the cross realm alabaster masquerade
Finally, “Unzipped Apple Core,” was written as a rant indeed
Bitten by the fire ant, I was hoping it would supplant a seed
But apparently the flying monkey festival has everyone strapped to a ticking time bomb
Another useless firework display to a bromide poem, so turn the page to end this sitcom
The doctor said, "Take this. It will cure the social disease”
So, for my last supper please, I would like some wine and cheese
Updated 5/14/2019
Form:
Gems of world - all girls my pride
Are happy and make so when tried;
Drashti & Mansi – best friends tied
To another as a fly to sugar when spied.
Sanjana and Dhruvi with all stride
Ahead to make others deride.
They are my charms and pride -
Intelligently innocent, and guide
For me and class in our collide.
Lucky is a silent asteroid
Who bursts in hostel wide.
Darshana innocently flied
In hostel during Yoga allied
With Udita who always denied
To be a part of Yoga, but tried
To save skin by moving aside
When problems don’t subside.
Meshwa and Tamanna – bromide;
Burst in class if one belied.
All nine gems of Akbar’s I vied
In my sweet angels without snide
I hope they’ll never forget my bestride
For them and come in my cyanide.
Paris is about attitude and the art of slow living, where nothing’s urgent and everything’s fine.
But if you’re in school, that’s not true. I just began a group project (gp), and to paraphrase William Shakespeare, the storm has come again! GPs are big affairs with slow moving parts, like conceptualization and collaboration - and all that happens before any actual work is done.
Some cultures treat deadlines like casual suggestions but I get absolutely hinky in the loom of deadlines - I pace, chew fingernails and fret.
The other day, a TA (teaching assistant) asked me if I was trying to “prove something.”
The French invented ‘laze faire.’ after all, but I’m American enough to have dismissively said,
“I’d like to prove I can complete the assignment on time.”
Let’s get poet-y..
A trial comes, like a cloud, so dark it should thunder
but there’s no bromide, offer of shelter or tent to mock the storm,
it’s for us - as strangers - to return results which opinion crowns fair.
.
.
Let’s sing the blues:
O.K. I'll Play the Blues - Deanna Bogart
Emotions and Math - Margaret Glaspy
Preachin' Blues by Larkin Poe
Tired platitudes for the pain to drown,
The bridled tongue will keep the fire bound.
A dose of bromide helps the words go down.
Exalting paupers with a golden crown.
Creating hero’s with exalted sound.
Tired platitudes for the pain to drown.
If our words of truth would be met with frown,
Would we eulogize and then chest proud pound?
“A dose of bromide helps the words go down.”
Embellished sackcloth still an ugly gown.
Vapid faces prefer the truth go round.
Tired platitudes for the pain to drown.
If only flattery we dare be shown,
Could weakling hearts bear the weight of truth found?
A dose of bromide helps the words go down.
When counsel concealed from one who is lown,
For what good cause could such ones be renowned?
Tired platitudes for the pain to drown?
A dose of bromide helps the words go down?
Written: October 24, 2025, for a contest sponsored by: John Lawless
Quote: "If you don’t like the road you’re walking, start paving another one." – Dolly Parton.
I walk where alabaster dreams
crack beneath meaty boots,
where the clangor of trade
caterwauls across aphonic lanes,
and the pale, spotted road surface
broods akin to a beleaguered bard.
Every slab a palimpsest—
an antediluvian archive
among fervent lovers and mortal souls,
ambivalent in their appetite,
trembling with ambition
Still yearning for soothing escape.
The breathing of the city is ambrosial and acrid.
a byzantine mix of bromide and pleasure,
its golden glow at dusk,
Aurora emerging from the gutters
with dazzling shine
and brilliant deception.
I wander around its undulating contradiction,
this road surface bearing
Burden for Barefoot Prophets
and bumptious brokers alike.
Its coating gleams,
a beacon in the dimness.
For the demure and the downcast.
Alchemy abounds here—
in the manner of the formless harm
of asphalt transforms
into footfall efflorescence,
every syllable of each phase
in the ariose aria of the city.
I witnessed the magical appendix.
of fantasies to dust,
the transitory epiphany
of a dandelion brave
to differ across concrete,
Halcyon resistance of destiny.
And I marvel--
Should the pavement speak,
Would it anathemize our rush?
Or murmur a sonorous hymn.
for the merry and the laden,
for those who stroll
not to arrive,
To recall, nevertheless.
Modern Appetite
by Michael R. Burch
"Women, wine, song ..."
It grumbled low, insisting it would feast
on blood and flesh, etcetera, at least
three times a day. With soft lubricious grease
and pale salacious oils, it would ease
its way through life. Each day—an aperitif.
Each night—a frothy bromide, for relief.
It lived on TV fare, wore pinafores,
slurped sugar-coated gumballs, gobbled S’mores.
When gas ensued, it burped and farted. ’Course,
it thought aloud, my wife will leave me. Whores
are not so damn particular. Divorce
is certainly a settlement, toujours!
A Tums a day will keep the shrink away,
recalcify old bones, keep gas at bay.
If Simon says, etcetera, Mother, may
I have my hit of calcium today?
Keywords/Tags: modern, appetite, supersize, me, indulgence, gluttony, bromide, seltzer, gas, Tums, calcium, quick, cure, tonic, overeating, women, wine, song, America, vanity, society, city, life