Long Broody Poems
Long Broody Poems. Below are the most popular long Broody by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Broody poems by poem length and keyword.
The concept of a royal family
Is such a ludicrous thing,
Products of privileged inbreeding
Worshipped as Queen or king.
So, when the current one dies
And, I stress, and only then
He should be replaced by
A broody, fat farmyard hen.
Clucketty MacCluck theyll call her:
She’ll be so much cheaper to pay
With less embarrassing behaviour
And unlikely to stray or play away.
She’ll be properly fed on
Only the finest of fine corn
And she can cluck for the public
Every other Tuesday morn.
As for the current royal family
I’m not quite sure what to do.
It’s such a revolutionary scheme
I’ve not yet fully thought it through.
Logic suggests they must be
Of some as yet undiscovered use
Maybe caretake ex palaces to
Keep them tidy, neat and spruce.,
I suppose really if, and only if,
My scheme comes to pass
They could with quiet dignity
Just be put out to grass.
Oh the concept is astounding
The implications even more
I’m more than amazed that
Nobody’s thought of it before.
Once that archaic system
Is become a part of our past
Perhaps we can move towards
A just and equal society at last.
But, then again, a warning thought,
Our politicos are such a corrupt lot
Perhaps we'll be much better off
Keeping the system that we've got
Driving on blacktop, eyes lighting my way.
A big bright ball follows, alongside the freeway.
He’s bouncing along nonchalantly without a care.
I tried to outrun him but, he is still there!
The huge luminous ball suddenly disappears!
Sinister cumuli sneak up and quickly appear.
Intermittently he peers through their masks.
But, he could not see, giving up alas~
The kidnappers would not set him free.
The dark-hued night was sullen and broody.
Midnight passes, showing a glimmer of promise.
Shinning up above was a grand starry fortress
Slipping out timidly, brighter than ever~
The big bright ball, the nights’ dazzler!
The Batman Movie (a review).
The clues part was cool, but the end of it got boring. I liked that Batman kept a journal - I like the idea of men keeping journals, because, do men have many thoughts they share? Men’s thinking seems so ephemeral.
In this Batman resurrection, Pattinson’s Bruce Wayne & Batman are Kurt-Cobain-like emo and that seemed to work. Didn’t you just want to take your hand and get his hair out of his eyes? I think guys should have hair - I like hair on guys, not buzz cuts. I liked the muscle-car Batmobile.
I liked Zoey Kravitz, she was girl power, but not in a hot girl way, she had her own motivations, she wasn’t just in danger and served up to fuel Batman.
The movie is too long though. They need to bring back movie intermissions - I’d vote for that. As usual, I drank my giant slurpee and ate ½ my popcorn before the twenty minutes of previews were finished.
It’s a three hour movie. I had to pee so bad by the time the movie was ¾ over that I was grinding on my popcorn bucket to keep it in. I finally had to make a dash for the bathroom - I was afraid I’d miss the KISS scene. Argh!
Let’s talk about Robert Pattinson, the actor, and his arch from Twilight to Batman. Of course, doesn’t every vampire turn into a bat? (joke) but it’s always Pattinson being moody, being hot, figuring himself out and the introspective man - the broody man.
Are broody men sexy? I don’t like broody men in real life - I feel that only one of us gets to be moody in a relationship - and it’s going to be me. Pattinson seems almost zany and cheeky in RL so the brood is his method act. I Like that Pattinson didn’t buff-up for the role - I think the buffed-up muscle-man as superhero perfection somehow relates to capitalism. Pattinson’s American accent was good.
What was missing from the movie was horniness. Batman didn’t seem HOT for Cat-girl - he just stood there for her to kiss. What’s boy-girl attraction if it’s not horniness? Where has the horniness gone in movies? Sexiness is missing from ALL the superhero movies - I guess the age demo is too young.
I give it three out of five stars
Antares' red glow bears firmly down
upon plush, chartreuse carpet
lying prone against the obsidian expanse,
blanketing sections of a remote
blue sphere, purling,
spinning helplessly
through distant time and space;
slave to routine and rotation,
never daring to break free;
to reach out.
Scorpius sprawls low
across the Autumn void;
a celestial corpse
twinkling, twitching;
inexplicably still breathing,
expelling the last
of her precious plexine light
in a final, desperate act
to awake inspiration, stir passion,
proffer wholeness and healing
to an infirmed, ungrateful planet,
for her end-of-reign recession.
Projecting dreams; visions
like swirling Akashic holograms
leaping forth from ancient pages
of ethereal records,
all but lost to time and apathy.
Twisting snakelike through the cosmos,
her broody gaze steeling
in every direction;
fierce energy bombarding;
burning across the universe.
Intense joules bursting forth;
reaching out to nurture
willing universal souls;
scorching those who reject her,
turning them to table fodder
at a divine banquet
for dark gods.
Sagittarius flickers jovially behind
as if breathless with laughter;
taunting, frustrating,
staying just out of reach
of her vengeful tail.
The rule of Scorpio wanes
upon Orion's horizontal breach
extinguishing the sting-ed cluster;
quelling her tumultuous surge
until late-spring pains
rebirth her fires,
igniting them, emerging again
from the icy chasm
of black oblivion.
Spring, as always, has mild days of sun and clouds,
and in between, it sends down the thinniest rain seemingly blue;
I'm blessed to taste it as it runs down the mounds,
below the hazy town seems empty almost vanishing fron view.
The further I go down, the closer I see the unrhythmic streets:
people walk as ghosts wearing broody faces as they hold umbrellas made for giants;
there's the highway that'll take me home, where snow alters landscapes and sounds,
but tasting the warmest rain compliments me for the lack of cheers.
Several thirty-story skyscrapers will block the sun from shining free,
this southern town, hidden among mountains, has known poverty;
the unemployed and young want jobs despite change and monotony;
they, too will taste the warmest rain and will dream of an age of prosperity.
Find your inner child please,
You're grumpy and no fun.
Snapping, snarling
Grouching, growling
And patience, you have none.
I know you're getting older
And tiredness plays a part,
Find your inner child please,
He's deep within your heart.
Find your inner child please,
Don't be unkind to me.
Gloomy, moody,
Bearish, broody,
You used to be carefree.
I know you've troubles on your mind,
That sometimes cause you pain,
Find your inner child please
And let him out again.
Find your inner child please,
Don't be such a bore.
Silent, sulking
Miserable, moping,
You've no reason to ignore.
Talk about your worries,
Let them fly away,
Find your inner child please
And let him out to play.
I saw end the mirror pensive consideration, help us Lord
Destroyed spirits of my generation dissensions, help me Lord
How long, lonely I mourned the musing. Lord help us
Down, down, down into the darkness of the missing, Help them Lord
Gently it goes - the brooding, the broody, the unthoughtful.
Trapped within wrong choices Inter-vision
I hear the spiritual indication of my generation screaming,
How I mourned the manifestation that they were dreaming.
Are you upset by how sacred they were?
Does it tear you apart to see the manifestation so immaterial?
Just like a contemplative system, is the meditation?
Are you upset by how demonic it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the meditation so ungodly?
Destroyed spirits of my generation dissensions,
Now you to mourn the manifestation they were dreaming.
Pay attention the condemnations,
the musing is the most pensive consideration of all.
A musing is wistful. Amusing is ruminative,
a musing is sad, however.
How happy is the spiritual manifestation!
Some repented and miss the condemnation
Alleluia
A manifestation is unworldly. A manifestation is immaterial,
a manifestation is incorporeal, however.
I cannot help but stop and witness those sincere meditations.
Forgiven for those bad choices, We hear the voices
We hear those voices of the reborn, saved ones…Now we’re all elated
1/24/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©
Listening to the Blues on this cerulean night,
my mood dark with visions of ecchymotic dreams
leaving chalybeous bruises in my crazed mind.
I waited for the turquoise twinkle in your smiling azure eyes
to soothe the despondent indigo thoughts I'm feeling.
Like a vitreous vapor I could feel you, but you did not appear.
I guess your cold cyaneous attitude shouldn't surprise me,
it's what I deserve, after leaving your beautiful mind filled
with empty, brooding, questioning, mazarine emotions.
Now I sit here alone watching the aqua liquid of your cocktail
throwing slowly fading teal reflections on a crinkled napkin
as the argon Curacao sign blinks lonely above the empty bar.
Liquid slowly pools in the corner of my cesious eyes.
You used to call them your sapphire visions into my soul,
now they're just old and faded like our cyanotic love affair.
It seems you have finally had enough of my broody blue moods.
I don't blame you, they've cost me more than just you in my life,
as for now I'll just wait in my livid sorrow and listen to the lonely Blues.
02/28/16
Modest woman moderate woman
Your inner beauty strikes me
Like the tongue of noble eloquence
More than gold even refined gold
Or our purged fulgent silver.
Black woman proud woman
Your pride is not haughty
But a humble pride of eaglets;
Your black eyes are so glittering
As the eyes of our dark rivers
Filled with messages of peace
That banish the broody turmoil
From those panting hearts
Of your foreigned offsprings.
Gentle mother diligent mother
Your kindness kindles the fires
Of my heart –
Your dexterity dresses
The table of our ageless history
And the thought of your being
– Oh kind mother! –
Makes the most delicious menu
For my heart.
I remember your naked feet
Fast and fair as a pigeon’s limbs
Treading the invisible paths
Almost covered by shrubs
Small shrubs misted by the prime mist.
I remember the wood from the wood
The water from the water
And manifold items from jungle alleys
Borne by your delicate hands
And upon your soft black-haired head.
I remember the constant match
To markets and to farms
And your bright face smeared with
The ash dust
Making you more beautiful
Than any woman whose feet
Ever touched the naked earth.
I remember those burdens
Upon your cheerful kin-souls
And babies strapped to your backs
Babes full of unspoken words
To unborn others in patient wombs
Waiting in an endless turn –
Indeed, mother is dove!
A black dove and a dark huntress
A hunter’s gift from the maker?
Mother is like a weaver-bird
Building a big foot-like nest
Filled with corn and warmth
A bundle of eagle-flight
Mother is dove
And the hunter calls her
The clan’s eternal dove.
Oh, mother loving woman
Gentle as our black horizon
To you we humbly come
From these far and lonely lands
Hoping to grace our love and beauty
Before that jealous grave
Makes her temporary feast.
Love's essence turned into vapour
And flew into a bottle of perfume,
Wear me,
Said it,
As it sunk deeper into the glass bottle,
Taking in its shape
Moulding itself with it!
Wear me
Every single day of your life
Wear me
As
Someday,
It shall all be over!
Life shall sparkle with stardust
And universes
Which the human mind can conceive not
Will paint themselves
In the cosmos
Merely
To have you amazed and cheerful
As kids are
At Christmas time!
Wear me
As you wake up
And face the day,
Dark and broody
As stones fall from clouds!
Wear me
As you gaze at vipers
And return their sweet smile!
Wear me
As you walk
Barefoot
On paths on which nails
Have been planted!
Wear me
As I am here
To remind you
That life on Earth
Remains a punishment!
Here,
You shall have to keep struggling
Regardless of what happened before
You shall have to keep suffering
As such is what the skies willed for you
And,
If you claim to love them,
Then,
Wear me
And accept it all
With a smile
As,
Like my fragrance
Everything else shall last only for a while!
Written on 21st August 2019