Long Brood Poems
Long Brood Poems. Below are the most popular long Brood by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brood poems by poem length and keyword.
Chubby cream grubby against white ice
Hungry somewhat clumsy polar bear heist
Hopefully loping over to an asylum of seals
Tusked beasts bound to become tasty meals
Damp nose oscillates, catch tongue anticipates
Hook claws extend, jagging his cumbersome gait
Ungainly angle rotates blundering bear ballerina
Jaws roar frustrated, mishap sadly signals dinner
Jolly bodied, barrel stocky well insulated brood
Swivel protruding chests to avoid being food
Fear pulls polar threat away, phew! - Relax
Pack pacify, raft drifts after cold cracks
Snowy blows his nose with hankie huge paws
Lucky that chubby has arms strong as oars
Iceberg dips, whiskers twitch while wishing
Imminent swim success - in frigid fishing
8th March 2023
Written for Contest: Cracked
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
Daisy was such a bossy old cow,
one who desired to rule the herd.
Her opinions were so highbrow
the others dared not moo a word!
Daisy would moo and moo all day
whilst the others chewed their cud.
I dare not disclose the things she’d say
if amiable cows mated with the stud!
One day Daisy met up with the local bull
who really was a quite handsome chap.
She fluttered her lashes, being on the pull
but her constant sniping was a handicap!
He mated all others in the bovine brood
which put Daisy’s nose right out of joint.
He detested her for her rude attitude,
yet, she insisted on arguing the point!
Daisy was ill-bred and she’d never yield
so all the other cows chose to back away.
Bull turned on his hooves and left the field
leaving Daisy all on her own chewing hay!
Although Daisy was the farmer’s oldest
she was just as nasty as the farmer’s wife.
He complained the old cow was the coldest -
I wonder which of them caused more strife!
The farmer didn't suffer from guilt or derision
when the slaughtering man came into town.
He allowed the butcher to make the decision
as to which cantankerous cow he'd put down!
12/10/18
Exactly who is strongest?
As above, so below.
Which, pray tell, did the gods best?
Spring, sprig mistletoe...
'Under heaven' read the sign.
Only one could tell!
Fancifully or by design?
Witches, cast thy spell!
Roundabout the ruddy run?
Has twilight begun?
Forlorn yet still having fun?
Midnight before one!
Warlord of the ages?
O conquerors, take heed:
Serene, are ye, sages?
Draw bead, O my greed!
Plead? To who? Doth ye bleed blue?
Hope, need ye accrue?
O for hearts a-torn in two!
Mistakes, need we rue?
Crew of skeletons at work?
How then best to shirk?
Daring devils, draw thy dirk!
Who's the master, jerk?
Psychology, operate!
Target, O my hate!
Grown up, ghast, upon the great?
Limestone, set thy date!
Fate, thy fortune. Soaked like wood.
Down the sea-cliff fall.
Concepts like the idea 'good'!
Brood of big and small!
Should? O for us, to the last!
Hanged from every mast!
Alabaster, set in plast!
Machine, get first fast...
My tap teacher calls me Irene.
She knows me from up on the screen.
When she gets my name wrong
It’s like I don’t belong;
Maybe some of you know what I mean.
For if you are possessed of a name
Which, to others, sounds somewhat the same
As your own, but it’s not
Then what choice have you got
But keep quiet or put them to shame.
What I do will depend on my mood –
Suck it up and continue to brood
Or point out the mistake,
Which is good for my sake,
But may come off to others as rude.
Still, a name tells the world who you are
And excuses go only so far.
If it’s me that you mean
To address, it’s ILENE
And to call me Irene is bizarre.
Burrowed in a nest, built by their mother
A peaceful brood, snuggled up with each other
Show no concern about their next meal
They know she'll return, their bellies she'll fill
Living for the moment, for this moment is their life
Rain will replenish. Tasty worms, a rife
Surely tomorrow will bring dawn and then dusk
What is yet to come, with God they entrust
If tomorrow comes and the sun doesn't show
Then they will deal because then they will know
As for now they rest peacefully, no reason to rush
Breathe in the fresh air and mid morning hush
How intelligent these creatures, thought lesser than man
Instincts to survive without having a plan
Season of dream haze and arctic signpost.
Chill and chap brood whose scattered offspring plummet thermal values as welcome mat for “whiskered” chimney guest awash with bounty.
Thief of sun filled days without a twinge but those universal late December days rendezvous can’t be thrust off-course.
Primal raw wind howl dissing summer’s distant memory - spotty and erratic though it was.
Deck chair, seat of toil free bliss now cold front recess blob.
Mirage or wishful thinking from a wet weather veteran.
We live in fear of reruns like Ophelia or
2010’s black ice.
Storm Force Brian, Mount Fuji on an airwave shrapnel carrier.
Dormant Loch Ness shadow’s fervent air mass plugging festive tunes.
To fuel dispatch and chimney sweep alike a sacred windfall.
For those who struggle just another inroad on an ever
shrinking pocket.
Yet this annual curtain closer has its grail and saving grace.
Dark art charmer lacing every patch for knee high boot crunch.
Architect of igloo closet ski cap.
Sleigh ride bell upon that maligned feast around our globe (Noel hark the alpine carol)!
Bizarre but only to us frostbite souls aloof from glacial beauty.
Deep freeze spirit canvass may not surface.
Christmas anthems booming over frolic footfall streets adorned by night owls.
Chaser lights that gee up gutted ghost town black spot.
Urban ice rink dome another fantasy or wonderland.
Toy shop stock n trade whose only trade is stock.
Colour coded gadget clutching every cell of window space.
Fashion fodder wizards magic spark a toddler’s glee at every turn.
Boisterous strains of Santa rousing inner reindeers - the sort beloved by children down the ages.
Yuletide decor gift band holly bush spike.
Log tossed on fire, kindling stick incendiary, leaping flame enshrouds smokeless polish.
Punch bowl nasal spice so aptly named rum do!
Skim milk skyline flaunts its snow fleck jewellery aloft.
Stars of astral compass spread their twinkle dash on human garlands.
Winter’s stepwise edging in a whirl plume of slush.
Christmas well and truly has arrived
like all December Days.
Wild meadows
beneath white peaks,
a jessamine perfume
enters the nostrils...
winds resume.
Sturdy men
hop on stallions,
wolves growl
as worried mothers
tend to their babies;
a tenebrous night
is about to fall...
way off is the dawn...
darkness covers all!
My land has no frontiers,
all stranded souls
are welcome to stay
for an evening away from dire,
they can warm-up
by the flickering campfire
and drink their whisky;
do they have bedtime tales
to tell the starry-eyed children?
They won't go to sleep as yet,
a hungry wolf has lept
and staring at them he lies down...
preferring warmth over raw food:
a single chick or a whole brood!
My village is one of the thousands
dispersed through this valley
of cotton fields, of strawberries,
of watermelons and of perfumed air;
everyone keeps an eye on each other.
An intruder is fended off with rifles,
may he resists, he'd be subdued...
unless their intentions are good.
A cowboy lost his life, his name was Willy,
and it makes other cowboys
suspicious of a shady stranger!
Silence lays shadows
over the Joshua trees,
the Madagascar palms
and the Burning Bushes;
it leaves the entire village intact...
forcing the midnight wind to go north;
happy are the desert roses
keeping their pink flowers,
they won't shed any petal on cracked rocks...
they'll guarantee wages in the farmer's wallet!
After an age, I found myself in her presence,
Struck again by her simplicity, her very essence.
A mathematician, now on a spiritual path,
Her life, a testament to a transformative start.
A practical spender, a healthy eater,
An insightful shift, due to a loss so bitter.
We delved into topics, broad and intense,
From psychology of the mind to witty content.
Earnestly we discussed, the mind’s sneakiness,
And chuckled over our juvenile naiveness.
Our daily walks were through nature’s creative art,
Where wildflowers flourished, and birds played their part.
Emerald fields of blue, orange, pink and yellow blooms,
Where long-tailed grackles sang, dispelling all glooms.
Spotted cardinal couples, a sight vividly marvelous,
And blue jay, butterfly and fly catchers’ gliding pairs.
Serene azure of the lake would enhance our mood,
Where mallards drifted with their newly hatched brood.
She nourished me with a diet so hearty and pure,
Beans, boiled eggs, oatmeal and salads to ensure.
Effective stretches she imparted for sore legs,
They work miracles when paired with some ankle weights.
This visit, a soulful journey was an impactful quest,
In her simplicity, this time I experienced a tranquil rest.
You wouldn’t believe what happened here
Sit down please and grab a beer
The urban legend this is not
So, let me run my train of thought
New York in summer, heat deluge
A/C’s a must, to have refuge
I own one, installed last year
A source of comfort, like cold beer
I left it out, I plain forgot
The grill to cover A/C slot
And didn’t care much at first
A business guy, I am immersed
The month is May, no heat in sight
But quarrel, squabble, angry fight
Then peace and quiet at the nook
I didn’t care enough to look
A bit of racket, birdy’s chirp
Right by A/C, a high-pitch twirp
A mourning dove with main squeeze
They moved right in, asked for no keys
This couple fights, amusing stuff
If there was sex, it sure was rough
I didn’t look, I had no time
They didn’t bother me daytime
The heat arrives, hey, don’t gloat
I need my cool, where’s that remote?
A/C would jolt but doesn’t work
What have I done, the stupid jerk?
I pulled the unit from the wall
Lo and behold, who’s there so small?
The chicks, the young, in my A/C
And mourning dove that looked with plea
She and her guy, they flew with food
The labor’s hard, to feed the brood
I pushed A/C back in its place
To guarantee their peace and space
A month flew by, cold air’s a dream
It was so hot I could have screamed
Saved by the fans, they kept me cool
I was a gentle kind of fool
One day the racket ceased for good
I looked and there was no brood
Then cleaned a pile of twigs and grass
A/C was back to save my ass
Thus, story ends and my report
I played landlord, of birdie sort
Heck of a story to uncork
It happened in good old New York
August 6, 2026
Whence the first rays of sunlight fall,
And nary a bird awake,
The purple shades of sky,
Signal for the war-drums to be played.
Sleep blown away,
The gruelling struggle stirs,
And the blueing sky calls,
For the armies to lay waste.
A thousand graves are dug,
Lifted aside are fallen men,
Letters put into being,
To be perused by brood and and bruv.
War stems from hope and anger,
In an inebriated state of righteousness,
Unfounded assumptions seeded by desire,
To be brought to rest in a book or melancholy tune of lyre.
So beware, raconteur,
the golden crusade, a facade of wreath of laurel,
For triumph is founded on the back of coercion.
Alas, nations will fight with power,
But men will be flayed away,
Not unlike the fabled golden crusade.