Long Bulged Poems
Long Bulged Poems. Below are the most popular long Bulged by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bulged poems by poem length and keyword.
Top notch legal scholar Erin Go Braw
(less concerned about being fair versus
abominable, irrevocable, and execrable
unforgivable oversight most holy "M" & nonce)
cabinet of high priests,
sans spelling chieftains ready to claw
your person to bits,
and they presage remote clemency
which decision told, when Jeff Sessions
decides final punishment to draw
now, (see excerpted lines
visited with glaring flaw
"Benediction For Lord Apple Macintosh"
where ...bot sized wetbacks, setbacks,
and drawbacks, required a secret char),...
intimates a "hee haw"
and rock'm n sock'm pull no punches
square at yar triangular jaw
YES, on account misspelling,
whence Grammarian Jude Law
at the least aims (to topple a prospective
title of eminence grise), banning access
to such undeserved
catbird seat, sans Rhetorical perch
laughing while ja plaintively call for maw
darn Oxford English Dictionary - but naw
can do, and hence paw
mister trumpeting
"FAKE" wordsmith raw
flesh will turn into....
unreadable print until closing text
that elaborates how holiness felt vexed.
To ye (a freshly minted scalawag),
these 20/20 eyes bulged agog
while steaming with invective
at what attempted
to pass as sacred poetic blog
when thee (Matthew Scott Harris),
now pronounced, an illiterate,
immoderate, and inveterate å!@#$%?
with a severe cerebral clog
(meaning prefrontal lobotomy
not out of the question),
you m~r mangy whelp of a she dog
(my humble apologies to canines),
less deserving than being
whipped near death's doorstep flog
after henchmen (strongly
resembling Alaskan BullWorms
guarding this royal hutch,
herein Cupertino, California.
I pressed a rose
taken from the bouquet of lavender,
a dozen scented budding and flowering
fragrance rising in the warm spring sun.
Strange to think that these you did not see
when roses were flowers you pressed easily.
Once they were yellow, friendship hinted bonds
that slipped to floral pink shades with time
and in the later years, the crimson red
bulged blossoms of love.
The service said it all
my tears in the silence freely falls
as these last years stretched out
and your silent acceptance bared your pain.
Time and age are indecipherable
as we each played our roles
and all the dreams and experiences
framed us into who we are, were.
Baby's breath and lavender roses pale and dry
in a last kiss goodbye and farewell
while the very bonds of love
remain forever tied.
Little Jack Marty
He was a smarty
Sitting in his second grade online class
He developed an urge to pass some gas
When it came out of Little Marty’s shell
It had that pumping smell
Hearing the tiger roar as it ripped out the young boy’s door
Watching his computer screen he saw Abigail studying to be a teen Queen
Crossing the street
The smell did travel tangy and sweet
It went under the door without a word
Stairs it crept
Past the room where last night Abigail slept
As the aroma approached
Little Jack Marty watched Abigail and said, “She is toast”
Taking a whiff Abigail straightened up very stiff
Her eyes bulged and face turned green with a tinge of white
Due to the smell that was airy and light
Typing away Little Jack Marty did say,
“You have been visited by the toot toot fairy”
In which she replied, “Oh you are so scary”
“Little Jack Marty did you cut the cheese?”
“I am alone in my room and I do as I please.”
He typed back about the environmental attack
Suddenly the teacher popped on the screen looking stern and mean
“What are you two doing anything to do with schooling?”
The teacher did ask with no need for a cut the cheese mask.
Looking into the camera Little Jack Marty said that he was sorry,
“Yes, I cut the cheese then disturbed the peace, I will now be quiet and will not start a panic riot, carry on with the online class while I hold my gas.”
Smiling the teacher was impressed
When Little Jack Marty confessed
About his too tee
That was a beauty
Gus the parrot blasted into the treetops
like a feathered firecracker
with zero impulse control,
one eyebrow-feather lifted
with a you-have-got-to-be-kidding attitude.
He clicked his beak in judgment,
ruffled plumage with a flair,
then leaned in like a critic
who’s unimpressed with the air.
A twig snapped.
“!Dios mio… SAY WHAT?!”
A cloud moved.
“!Dios mio… SAY WHAT?!”
His eyes bulged, his crest shot up,
his whole body vibrating
like a tiny, outraged disco ball.
No one knew what he was reacting to.
Possibly nothing.
Possibly everything.
But there he was~
a neon blur of disbelief
shouting “!Dios mio… SAY WHAT?!”
at the entire universe.
One character I used to like a lot
was skinny, bald, and not at all refined.
yet he was superhuman when he fought
and also had a keen detective’s mind.
He had a pipe, and this ingenious bloke
would use it as a torch or periscope.
In fact, he rarely used that pipe to smoke!
With goons and Bluto he would always cope
by using it to suck a spinach can!
His forearms bulged, for he got strong that way.
Strong to the “finich,” was this sailor man
from eating spinach when he saved the day!
To Olive Oyl and Swee’pea he stayed true -
*Pupeye, Pipeye, Peepeye, and Poopeye too!
Written 5/20.2015 for the Cartoon Character Contest of Shadow Hamilton
* The four nephews of Popeye who resembled little Mini-Me’s of Popeye.
Losses not consolidated leave contributor raw
Arrears rip pages of rational compassionate law
Turblent thoughts toss turn to channel retaliation
Embittered brain rubs static into smooth radio station
Nocturnal curtain eternal drawn over forgiving stance
Tortured cortex tar drips coal smudge repugnance
Behind lids of eyes fingertips pressing upon
Lacking exposure conjures warped projection
Attonement can't be granted during darkness
Confessions sparkle once in white starkness
Killing accountability in murky private mind
Proliferating hatred sees old harm magnified
Asperity of sins committed stew in torpid trench
Years of historic plot twist regale harsh revenge
Bulged breeding dim ideas seethe evil scheme
Attack mapped by movie shock putrid scenes
Creeping balaclava covered crow bar at chest
Knavish initiation repaid with blood reaps debt
24th August 2021
Written for Contest : The Colour Black
Sponsor : Chantelle Anne Cooke
In the desert waste Chester Miller looked out,
saw the rest of the gang riding back slow,
fresh from the bank job in Copperstone Creek,
a place that Chester could dare not go.
He’d spent his teen years in that little ville,
caused much mischief of the criminal kind,
if he had rode in with the gang today
he would surely have been recognized.
So he’d drawn up a plan and then stepped back,
let the rest of the boys do the hard work,
given the sacks tied on to their saddles
they’d succeeded, and got away unhurt.
But on the horse of his right-hand man,
an old rebel who the boys called Bret,
rode a scared boy, his eyes wide with terror,
fighting not to sob with every breath.
He tossed the boy down in front of Chester,
who said,”Why did you bring a young kid here?”
Bret said,”Took a hostage, held back the marshall,
allowed us to escape with nothing to fear.”
Chester looked closely at the ten-year old,
seeing something familiar in his face.
“Besides,”said Bret,”now we’ll get a ransom,
his father looked the type who could pay!”
They bound the boy’s hand with a stretch of rope,
but made no other effort to restrain,
as they all drank, Chester watched the boy,
where had he seen him? He wracked his brain.
As night started to fall, the gang dropped off,
Chester suddenly saw truth before him:
the brow and the forehead, the sweep of the jaw,
a spitting image of his brother Tim!
Chester knelt down, look the kid in the eyes,
asked,”By what name are you usually called?”
The boy stammered,”R-R-Ronald Miller.”
Said Chester,”Named after your grandpa.”
He did not have to ask any further,
the boy was his nephew, without doubt,
and with not a moment’s hesitation
he pulled a long, dull Bowie knife out.
Ronald’s eyes bulged from his head in fear,
until Chester quickly slashed his bond,
took the confused boy, lead him by the hand,
said,”Now we have got to move quickly, come on.”
They picked their way over to his horse,
up on the saddle the small figure went.
Chester was about to clamber up to
when the night by a loud shout was rent.
Bret was awake, the others coming ’round,
they’d be drawing their irons before long,
said to the kid,”Tell Tim Chester helped you!”
Slapped the horses, and in a flash it was gone...
CONCLUDES IN PART II
Her name was Susan and she was breathtaking.
She could spin a poem into a spider’s web strength and ethereal wisps.
I was smitten beyond reason.
Captured by lust quickly tuning toward love.
Then the however happened.
However, Susan was adept at spinning a gossamer web
Silently, she captured victims blinded with lust
like this one whose idea of loving her went bust
Susan was a mean girl, a Black Widow weaver
she encased him in a silk cocoon...
until her appetite for a meal woke her from peaceful rest
A smile on her face, legs crossed... all eight of them.
Patiently, she waited while giving herself a mani/pedi
Susan sat drooling at the thought of lunch
She decided she better dress for dinner
after all…
her lunch date was just hanging around.
She looked such a temptress
With scarlet lipstick smeared over her face
And perfectly manicured talons
She set to work unwrapping her prey
Ready to nibble him down to the bone
Susan’s prey appeared all debonair with bells on
She could see through his charming but fake façade
He saw her eyes glimmer, her lips red and inviting
She offered him a kiss as she wrapped her eight legs around him
His eyes bulged as she kissed his lips while suffocating him in her web
He begged her to stop as she drank from his mouth,
until he was silenced
The above verses were inspired by a prompt given to poets, Jan, Tania and Lin, by Arlo Parker, who wrote the first verse. We give credit to Arlo for inspiring us to write these verses; a joint venture of Arlo Parker and the mean girls.
He snatched me, cuddled me,
A straying lamb in the wild.
I peeked into his eyes; a flame danced.
I cupped my mouth, mumbled:
In love with me!
He pressed me to his heart;
Kissed my boney cheek.
I stink, don't I? My lips trembled.
He whispered: To clean you up,
My love; that's why I came.
My love ... Me! I began to shiver.
His face gleamed, You're mine.
I, a hostage! My eyes bulged.
I wriggled, tried to get off him;
His arms tightened, nestling me.
I wanted to cry, my voice vanished.
Giant eagle clutching a prey, he lifted.
We soared, I dizzied, the wild receding.
Still dazed, I clung, clenched my eyes
Till we punched through the clouds.
I peeped, looked around; dark cloud below,
The blue above. I squinted at him. You, saved me!
He smiled: I've searched for you!
Warm tears crawled down my cheeks.
© 2013 Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi
the cat took to sleeping in the kitchen
where there are less windows
the wind hammered at the front and back doors
it circled the walls
then raced off
to spook my shadow
a sparrow
flew up under the eve of the roof
it clung to it kinda sideways-on
the way parakeets do
the wire netting of the screen door
bulged in and out
as I held onto the latch
the eyes in the birds head bulged also
its plumage did a crazy dance
its neck got crooked and stiff
the howling wind took the bird
out onto the road where it fluttered
later I watched TV
a movie about some demented weather
was on
I switched channels