Long Capering Poems
Long Capering Poems. Below are the most popular long Capering by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Capering poems by poem length and keyword.
i am wielder of chaos
bearer of cozy poison
hidden son of jupiter
gestated from his thigh
supple strapping boy
follow the crooked
steps of spontaneous
capering i will soothe
your terrified gaze
summon frantic defiant
nymphs to slake
your thumping skull
with tender anarchy
my fierce priestesses
in robes of moonlight
diaphanous cobweb
will sing lilting implacable
spells to wreck
planets in their courses
wine and feral milk spouting
from tap of hyssop branch
i will swaddle you
in mother night caress
you with snake tongue
drizzle silky
secret language
of the rapacious
in your ear nudge
succulent fissure
yearning for arc
of scalding bliss
lightning bone
sap of brief
delectable death
accursed creepily haunting
Phantasmagoria wraiths
vandalize residents psyches
within their sleep induced state
Sublimation shunts
slumbering souls
unknowingly held hostage
successfully sacrificing
Semi-smothered silent species
snoring simians steadfastly succumb
subsequent sibilant sounds
woo woebegone wicked transmogrification
dilapidated divested bodies deposited
wizard waves wand
watching whirling wretched lovely bones
whipsawing (in toto) within abyss
whooshing whistling wheezing
whets warlocks appetite wakening
brutish nasty nightmare
sinister hulking spirits
steal assorted corporeal essence
monstrous mashing somnambulant
mephistophelian shadowy satanic satyrs
supremely swallow senior citizen bankers
deep within catacombs
of Highland Manor,
deadened defeated Delphic Oracle
relegates human husks,
viz spent embodiments
to the under world lay siege
sinisterly seeding, via sinister spirits
one pure evil particularly wicked
witch thy capering
sickening ghastly plot against
unsuspecting spouse snatched
parch trey gnarled warty claws.
“Wind and Waves eternally speak to us, sometimes in hushed murmurs and sometimes in violent roars. We do not know what they speak. They may be trying to convey the calm and the fury of Nature in turn”- ~ By Poet
I hear a wind whispering from the hills
It comes down tickling the clean woodland rills
From far is heard the frightened murmur of leaves
As it pounces on them like wayside thieves
It shakes the branches of flowering trees
And their petals drop like confetti in the breeze
Over hills and trees, it loves to skip and stray.
Always in motion, never inclined to stay
It moves unhampered over streams and field
With no resistance to its might, they simply yield
Like a child, it romps over the shady bowers
In its gentle touch, dances the gleeful flowers
Sometimes it steals furtively like a lover
And disappears kissing our cheeks under cover
It comes capering with a lilt and a swing
We feel joyous when we hear it merrily sing
From an unknown hide out it comes like a sprite.
It always makes us feel its vigorous might
Listen to the wind, it may have something to teach!
JOYOUSLY, WE BE
Pillows, pillows, rainbow pillows everywhere
amidst this sea of pillows, two in lounging share--
capering aplenty, teasing, teasing thee.
Fun-filled laughter bubbles up, joyously, we be.
Fluffy, fluffy cotton knobs, wrap next to 'bods
Tuck so right in a hug, keep tight in the warmth.
Playing hard to get in merry-go-round zest.
Rock and roll, it drew smiles; rise and fall release sighs...
Teaser! Teaser, tease her! blushing freedom pairs!
Giddy music gentle lapping sound like chorale.
Closer, we become, touches twinkling like stars
in catch one's breath pause, our eyes interlace, comes we!
Pleaser! Pleaser, please him round the clock so light!
Do cuddle him lovingly and sing her a song,
between some brushes, he shall blow hushes
as when night and day strums, allow yin and yang rhumb.
© J. A. Fraser and O. E. Guillermo
Written November 17, 2014
.
Fourth Floor of nowhere- had a back room where
I spent some secret time, in younger days;
a huge- yet empty space above the stair
that led me to a new-dimension phase.
Though built late eighteen-eighties, it was home
in nineteen forty-nine, when I turned ten.
The first three floors were free for me to roam-
yet, Fourth- proclaimed off-limits to me then.
But, late each night, I heard them from my room-
the sounds of women talking- whispering,
while scurrying of children's feet would loom
above my plaster ceiling, capering.
One day, come early dawn- I turned the knob
as all my family still soundly slept.
The room was bare- but how my heart did throb
as gentle, ghostly figures, past me, swept.
Years later- due to eminent domain
to build a bridge- they tore our home apart.
When I pass by, I hear them weep in pain;
Fourth Floor of nowhere- now dwells in my heart.
September 10, 2020
~4th Place~
Contest: The Fourth Floor Of Nowhere
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Judged: 09/21/2020
Note: The Newburgh-Beacon Bridge was completed
in November 1963, after New York State claimed our
home via eminent domain. Since I live very close by, I
constantly have to pass the site where my childhood
home stood.
Pillows, pillows, rainbow pillows everywhere
amidst this sea of pillows, two in lounging share--
capering aplenty, teasing, teasing thee.
Fun-filled laughter bubbles up, joyously, we be.
Fluffy, fluffy cotton knobs, wrap next to 'bods
Tuck so right in a hug, keep tight in the warmth.
Playing hard to get in merry-go-round zest.
Rock and roll, it drew smiles; rise and fall release sighs...
Teaser! Teaser, tease her! blushing freedom pairs!
Giddy music gentle lapping sound like chorale.
Closer, we become, touches twinkling like stars
in catch one's breath pause, our eyes interlace, comes we!
Pleaser! Pleaser, please him round the clock so light!
Do cuddle him lovingly and sing her a song,
between some brushes, he shall blow hushes
as when night and day strums, allow yin and yang rhumb
© Olive Eloisa Guillermo and James Fraser
Written November 17, 2014
.
Twas fortnight before inspection 2021...,
Not a human creature stirred, nor seen
throughout Highland Manor,
property carpeted in lush green
gently hilly terrain,
(a deathlike stillness descended un keen
quiet and quite cool April 26th,
deux thousand twenty one).
Vicious rumors circulate wrenching
hammering, and drilling psyche
where mailer demons invade,
that immediate hell fire enfilade
natural hair color made
gray follicular shocks amply pervade
instantaneously turning
Janus faced with Machiavellian
mean streak inlaid
(how word some would say)
"stern", any previous
housewarming aura
experiencing welcome spiel,
nor iota of politesse present,
but Trumpeting her entourage,
asper self important capering escapade
taskmaster known to abrade
even the most stalwart macho,
gung-ho, brave heart appear afraid,
thus oft time tis most
advantageous and optimal
prospective mutineers betrayed
Princess Ja***n Ge***r
harridan de jure ushering tirade
akin to a petit grand mal one
woman banshee masquerade
hoop puts on be preyed
upon switching pretentious airs
dead ringer give
away (immediately
points gnarled finger
sentenced to clinker visage),
non verbal charade
hence unstoppable mounting
anticipatory anxiety manifests
as disabling, impending,
oppressing fate
cannot be delayed
if insubordinate tenants
try with futility to evade
officials with truncheons flayed
doth rarely give surcease
renters passing grade
she, the consummate
de facto grande heiress
of Gr***e & Qu**e
inherited plum deal,
where lifetime employment,
and generously paid
analogous as born
(that way) portrayed
maintaining poker face
into royalty made,
now as single mother
to biracial heir
purportedly inhabits castle
abode with parents,
thus no child
care costs paid
expectant heavy foot
falls getting louder,
(oh...no that jist
my heart pounding
whence approaching raid
so please inform this jade
did troubadour if privy to let
(me and the missus) aid
i.e. a safe and sound
place to call home
with this hole in the poetry wall,
I would immediately
make thee a fair trade
in lieu of living, where
mercilessness doth parade
expenses property upkeep,
teaching (two
door ring) English,
or even employed
as a mister minute maid.
In the hushed forest a deathly silence prevailed
there was a ram shackled hut in the clearing
Three men stood in chains waiting their fate
with a bright flash the witchdoctor appeared
Cavernous of face and skeleton like body
he was a gruesome sight in his tattered rags
banging his villainous staff on the ground
he summoned the ghouls, witches and Zombies
Capering around him clambering for fresh blood
they advanced on the hapless men undoing chains
first the ghouls had their feast on fresh meat
the witches grabbed the intestines and organs
The Zombies got what was left and reshaped it
forming new Zombies to haunt the local people
so very fearsome with their red flashing eyes
they shambled slowly in a disjointed fashion
For this night of Halloween they were free
to gather souls and turn them into the undead
to serve their evil master and follow his biding
until the first rays of sun send them to the grave
Shadow Hamilton
written 10/15/2013
contest Halloween poem contest only one theme
The True Builders of Giza
Born of the soil where the great river flows,
Long before history's boundaries arose,
The builders of Giza were sons of the Nile,
Crafting the stone in magnificent style.
Indigenous people of African grace,
The land was an ebony field of grace
Deep in the heart of that sun-sculpted place,
With skin of the earth, in variations of tone,
They carved out their lineage in monumental stone.
No modern illusions of "Black" or of "White"
Can capture the valley's true ancient light
Caused by suppousade supremacy of black over white
They belonged to the river, the silt, and the sun,
An African continuum, brilliantly spun.
And call them not Arabs, for history clears
The conquest of Arabs by thousands of years;
Three millennia passed ere that banner unfurled,
To change the face of this old desert world.
Nor were they capering, whip-driven slaves,
But honored designators, filling proud graves.
Paid for their labor in cattle and bread,
With seasonal respect for the sweat that they shed.
Moses and Rameses, in heritage true,
Breathed of the continent, old yet anew;
So let the truth stand where the monuments rise:
Native Egyptians beneath African skies.
Conquered, bashed and complete annihilation?
Capitulated, humiliated and completely exterminated?
Few poetic questions for the poem,
Rhetoric, depending on the tone you prefer
The history of sun beneath the African Skies
Of those who were before the Arabs?
Poetic and evocative of family and communities
Perhaps, we want to know?
Their histories and Their linage
Their achievement great and age
Where are the True Builders of Giza
Perhaps, we want to know?
Sea alongside where they are, where they go
Undercurrent of cover, keep upset under wraps
Run a watertight routine within swim safe zone
Emit words washing white magic swell flat relax
Pervade far lands, exotic tainted by Australia
Leisure takers pack high hopes among low funds
Enamour for contrast demands modes familiar
Affluent rabid urgency, serene temples shunned
Swum lagoon lounging, legs glossy mahogany
Upscaled servers strive for measly tourist custom
Resort afforded sirens their thriving economy
Ethos of plentiful offering for Gods stay trusting
4th October
Faraway from Before