Long Category Poems
Long Category Poems. Below are the most popular long Category by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Category poems by poem length and keyword.
I didn’t grow up trying to better anyone
but I bettered the bitter and discovered haters one by one
turns out it’s a lonely place when you’re the champion
everybody wants a piece everyday on repeat
you see them looking at you with the envy in their eyes
because I worked out while they sat eating all the pies
the effort and the discipline continuous developing
playing sport and at the gym
while they weren’t doing anything
they think that I was born athletic lucky genes they say
while they watch tv smoke and laze lacking energy each day
hours they spend dreaming about glory and achieving what they ain’t
while I compete in competition hard work starts to pay
living dreams the actual scenes and getting lots of praise
while no one ever notices the ones dreaming they are great
desperate for attention they start to label you that way
I don’t want attention I enjoy the sports I play
they look for ways they better you in any category
and then they talk aloud about it most assuredly
making sure that people know until they all agree
they’ve finally found the sweet spot they’ve found a victory
but then you go and win something and all the people see
then everybody talks about it and you are centre scene
and this just grows the hate resentment and the jealously
so now they will compete with you every possibility
behaviour fuelled by envy and it’s obvious to me
if you are lazy you’ll grow bitter and be a nobody
and you’ll become an empty shell who dreams they do achieve
desperate to be noticed by the whole community
and you will have to tell yourself just how great you are
over time you will believe it and see yourself a star
but that is called delusion you’re not who you think you are
becoming confident and cocky a reality apart
your happy days will be the days others suffer hard
you’ll kick them down and dance around and talk to them real harsh
entitled lazy liar horrid no empathy or heart
and this is how you will achieve as the narcissist you are
all because you sat and dreamed and smoked and drank the bar listening to winning stories of those held in high regard
and as your ego disappears amongst the mental scars
you’ll be wishing you were someone else hating who you
saying lots of nasty to people so high up above you
while they can’t even hear you they just laugh and shoulder shrug you
Wayland here again with another clerihew to end the year
These will probably never be famous, but that isn’t the fear
Sometimes the honesty is these may be just a little too strong
They're all done in fun, but some lines seem to go wrong
The philosopher lays the blame in the characters included
Only to what’s written here on the soup has he alluded
No outer sources does he ever interview
I say sorry to those victimized by my clerihew
Mr. Bunch, I don't remember calling myself that
Hasn’t been the one known to avoid a spat
Of what he feels and sees he likes to write
These truly are in fun, with little or no spite
Jack E I haven’t looked yet to see his new work
He has so much wit he could be a funny jerk
But he writes and really abstains from anger
If he got mad though, I’d bet there’d be intellectual danger
Good thing he’s Santa with no time to read these
If you see him, probably don’t mention them please
I don’t want to encourage him with another form
The quatrain that is what has become his norm
Advancing in age but he’s still feisty old Saint Nick
If you don’t believe me you’ll have to read his limerick
I said limerick but he’s naughty in more than one
If you want a particular Santa’s Beard is filled with pun
FJ Thomas seems to enjoy being clerihewed
Her comments leave me believing she’s no prude
An example would leave some saying I’ve a dirty mind
I’d have to say did you really read or are you blind
I’m glad Mrs. Thomas decided not to leave
She felt the affection from the comments she did receive
I try to leave affectionate comments for my part
But I know often times my a** is a little to smart
How many of these about PD could I write
If I started now I’d be here till tomorrow night
She definitely is engrained everywhere just read
I still hold that of a new nemesis she has some need
Then she could destroy her imagery is uncanny
I bet under the bullying category she has many
So sweet and innocent my first impression of her
Then I went back and found why she’s called destroyer
Yes Linda couldn’t have picked a better name
The poor souls that were the victims of her fame
I remember a specific one haven’t seen him around
If she’s looking for a new victim, tell her I can’t be found
Once again note that these are all in fun, and only 99% of this should you believe, lol. I had about 5 more but ran out of space and courage haha.
Cowards die many times before their deaths…
Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene 2 ~William Shakespeare
spouse
a souse
classic grouse
a big girl's blouse
portent ominous
assertions blasphemous
obscure and anonymous
his skulking is nefarious
utterances acrimonious
and implicature often dubious
uxorious but still pusillanimous
**********************************
An example of a rhopalic verse.
Rhopalism: A rhopalic sentence is one in which each successive word is one letter longer than the previous one. In poetry: where each word is one syllable more, or it might increase each line in a stanza by one syllable (per my example), or a metric foot.
IN THE SAME CATEGORY OF CONSTRAINED WRITING
The Rhopalic Couplet, also called Wedge Verse, was first used by Homer in the Iliad (3.182). It is a poetic unit of 2 rhopalic lines where each word progresses adding one more syllable than the preceding word in the line, for example, 1, 2, 3, 4 … syllables. The sequence of the syllable count can be identical in the second line, or it may be reversed. The couplet does not need not rhyme.
_____________________________________________________________
In The Coward, stanzas are broken up along the syllables of the end rhymes: spouse, souse, grouse, blouse; om-i-nous, blas-phe-mous, a-non-y-mous; ne-far-i-ous, ac-ri-mo-ni-ous, du-bi-ous & pu-sil-lan-i-mous.
LEXICON
acrimonious: (adj) (typically of speech or discussion) angry and bitter.
a big girl’s blouse: British idiom, meaning someone is ineffectual or weak; someone failing to show masculine strength of determination
disposition: (n.) inherent characteristics.
grouse: (n.) one who complains constantly.
implicature: (n.)* the action of implying a meaning beyond the literal sense of what is explicitly stated, for example, saying the picture frame is nice and implying I don’t like the picture.
innate: (n.) inborn, natural
nefarious: (adj) (typically of an action or activity) wicked or criminal.
portent: (n.)
1. a sign or warning that a momentous or calamitous event is likely to happen, an omen.
2. (literary) an exceptional or wonderful person or thing. [‘What portent can be greater than a pious notary.’]
pusillanimous: (adj) showing a lack of courage or determination; timid.
souse: (n.) a drunkard.
Remember me
remember I always say
am not perfect
remember I was not
among the perfect ones
remember I cried for humanity
remember I poured out
my soul to the world
my spirit will testify
to this true testimony
remember I wear no
greed to burn my Bush
cos my fire keep burning
even when I decay
my spirit will forever
keep it on
remember I was a victim
yet I lived a victor
am still living
yes am living with a revolution
above all
remember me cos
am only but just a human
remember me
remember I always say
am not perfect
I never yield to be one
cos that is not possible
no not with any human
yet I lived In a world
were I am thought to
be perfect
remember me cos
I never yield for perfection
cos we all can see
what the perfect ones has
done to nature
how many innocent souls
shot lived just to prove
their perfection
remember my crimes
cos it was only found
on humanity
remember my words
let them lighten up
this dark World
remember my imperfections
please do remember that
cos then you will see why
am only but a human
remember me
remember I always say
am not perfect
life is ups and down
so I understand what light
means to darkness
cos the world need more light
and unfortunately the heads
with the light are not perfect
either
instead they fight a curse
for the benefit of all mankind
for the existence of humanity
so remember me cos
am among this few
let my imperfections
bring you a true thought
of life
this I wish when you
remember me
I will be happy under my
stone
if you finally smile
when you remember
despite I was who I am
yet I was nothing but
just a human
remember me
remember I always say
am not perfect
so don't place me
on that category
if not show the world
who is perfect
in this world full
of various addiction
no blasphemy to my spirit
cos I saw the world
and am yet to see
the perfection in humans
with out evil
remember no matter
how high we go in illusion
we will fall
don't ask me why
ask nature
remember me cos
I share
I gave
I wrote
am still writing
I respect
I disobey
but I lived and still living
despite the darkest night
life still bleeds to me a chance
to live
so always remember
I always say
am not perfect
cos at the end
am nothing but
just a human
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Especially with motivational bias
Intrinsic or decoherent formation
The access levels breach by human mass
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Is due the common bias that supports
Desire for all process automation
The physical the fitness is the sport
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Whether desires of others shall we satisfy
The mass affect on psyches with exemptions
The mechanism is probably WIFI
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Implies that humans are the chemical the mass
Because all these in Internet and politics “reactions”
TerminolOgy of the human this bias
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Are differenciated between you and wild
And while is none the business yours is wild the nature
I am also one of you if I am filed
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Between my file in organs and the me
Existed maybe be rather for the penetration
The very outdated is your C
So let's address ID of yours
They say when children are the young
They seek their own ID
Perhaps their souls and their minds
Won't really fall for category of the fashionable stan??
In search for their Ids
In time of war prepare for peace
In time of peace prepare for war
What are you really for?
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Are fading as your prioritization are disproved
In seeking many ways for the monetization
Your whole existence is a giant unwanted spoof
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Between radar of military and the airplane
You reckon, buddy mine of the negation
That this particular the generalization
Would render system of your build as sane?
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Of weird human groups who's eager to assist
Resistance is a trait of this negation
My human right is kinda to resist
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Draws value out of you as you degrade
The round is degree of the 360
How is this calvin would convert to centigrade?
The mechanism of seeking the connection
The mechanism of seeking the connection
The mechanism of seeking the connection
The mechanism of seeking the connection
*organs are term in russian lingo for intelligence services, such as NSA in US, maybe because short for organization
Tis quite a beast of burden to bear atlas (shrug off not allowed)
Atlas shrugged an impossibility
tantamount to skinny dipping in the lock nest lagoon
Tantamount to shrugging Atlas off mine bony,
ill suited, widower wizened shoulders,
would take naked fat chance in Fountain Head of virgin waters,
eddy fied with huge boulders
which preliminary sketches to maintain pristine
(pure as Snow White's booty) kept in folders
when collaborative effort called, the fore mid able,
trio, sans state of the artists
(within their respective trades as writer
fictional hero, and architect)
Ayn Rand, John Galt, and Howard Roark,
who undertook resplendent measures
affected resilient as omnipotent cable
tub ring plenti kickstarting linkedin gatecrashers
to a snapchatting halt
instagramming, crowdsourcing, crowdfunding,
held at equivalent asper Bay of Pigs
viz Pay of Bigs
(in this context identified as
(vudu trained stalwarts, petsmart outlook,
incorporating literary, metaphorical,
nautical staff comprising fable
sea Crete cure metamorphoses abilities, as failsafe method –
i.e., physically, instantaneously, architecturally rendering
modus operandi capacity asper quick as blazing saddles
(ponied up by young Frankenstein)
kept in fireproof stable,
where at dextrous fingers ala hocus-pocus prestidigitation
which chiefly buoyantly ardently, and hardily drafted imp pier re: hull
rock hull impediment for shore also cast evil spells should
any foolish soul, who dared
to maneuver past the near blinding pier sing redoubt
to access blue lagoon like watery oasis
shielded via reeking poor Island
(where an atomic rooster gargoyle shrouded parapet)
buffeted the crashing waves against
the lock smooth as a glass table
whose wooden sea legs solidly affixed
to hip, hip hooray three chairs
inviting two story book heroes plus the author,
unfurling parchment scriptural roles invited ad lib flairs
since threat of category five hurricane
manifested took writer by surprise,
thus requiring her to utilize cognitive gears
which necessitated modification of original plot,
now bumped credos with religion
vis a vis engendering prayers.
Time crawls by, as if determined to torture me in this state. Why won’t it go by faster? I want to get away from here. Away from this world.
Have you ever had the strong desire to just…go outside at midnight, and walk around? Happens to me all the time. Night is my favourite time. I can actually think when it’s dark. My thoughts aren’t jumbled up, they're actually faster.
Life…can be annoying. So many people to make fun of you. Even if they don’t say it out loud. Just the way they act or look at you. It hurts. I’ve been bullied since I was in 5th grade. Picked on, shoved, and made fun of. You know what? LOOK AT ME NOW. All that bullying, the constant attacks on my already fragile esteem, look at who it’s made me. Emotional, likeable, versatile and dynamic. Without all of that, I wouldn’t be who I am. So thank you. You’ve effectively made a guy who HAS A HEART AND SOUL.
But who knows what’s going on with me? Over the years it’s added up. Now for unapparent reasons at random times I get SO depressed that I don’t want to be ‘here’ anymore. I just want to move on, get out of this life. Start a new one…you thought I was talking about killing myself? No. I’m not like that. Anymore. At least I think I’m not…
What I REALLY hate is being called ‘emo.’ My sister calls me Goth. She doesn’t even know what that means! Anyway, emo. WHY?! Do I look emo to you?! Maybe I do. And you know how many people look at me as if they're thinking “oh, he’s emo. He cuts himself and cries because he’s a wimp.” Well guess what? THAT’S NOT WHAT EMO IS. Emo=Emotional. Yes, if you were wondering, I am emotional. And yes, I do get depressed a lot. And I like emo music (its good music, wtf?) But I don’t like to be called emo, or scene, or Goth, or whatever. I may not show it, and I may agree with you on it when you call me it, but it pisses me off. Big time.
I once took a personality test. Out of 100, I got an 70 in the emotional category. The average for a 15 year old guy like me is 50. Give or take 5. I also got an 82 in the creativity/intuitive category, and I'm 82% introverted. And 77% Perceiving instead of judging.
So please don’t call me emo. Because I really am “emo.” But I don’t like to be called it. People always think I'm weird when they hear that pertaining to me. And it hurts. So Don’t. Do. It.
Form:
She measured only five foot tall,
With her stooped shoulders, even shorter.
Towered over by her strapping son,
My mother and each other daughter.
Grandma came from sturdy stock.
On her own strength, she relied
To raise her five young children,
After my grandpa died.
Mother was only six years old,
She could barely remember when
Her daddy died of consumption.
That’s what they called it then.
There was no such thing as welfare,
So Grandma was left alone,
To find a way that she could raise
Her family on her own.
Opportunities for women
Before the First World War
Were almost non-existent.
The wolf was at their door.
So my grandma took in washing,
Ironing and clothes to mend.
The enormity of her labors,
I can’t even comprehend.
I have pictures of her and her family,
All so neatly dressed
In crisp white dresses and starched shirt,
Attired in their Sunday best.
Did her children know her sacrifice,
How this woman had to strive
To see they were fed and sheltered,
And to keep them all alive?
My memories of my grandma,
Are when she was old and alone.
She was frail and ill but managed
To face life on her own.
She had her little garden,
And planted by the moon.
She bragged that no one in the town
Was eating fresh peas so soon.
I never heard her grumble
About her difficult life
Or that she had been a widow
Much longer than a wife.
My grandma had the steely will,
That has made this nation grow.
Without her kind, we wouldn’t have
The ease that we now know.
So when ever the days are rainy
And I’m feeling sorry for myself,
I start to remember Grandma,
Take her album from the shelf.
Surrounded by life’s luxuries
Of the kind she never knew,
I wonder at my grandma,
And the way she battled through.
She barely knew of radio,
And would have been enchanted
With television and its wonders,
Which we take so much for granted.
Grandma was a true pioneer.
Her road was long and rough.
Her granddaughter should be ashamed.
To claim she has it tough.
I salute you Grandma and love you.
I was proud to call you Gram.
And no one needs to tell me that
You were of sterner stuff than I am.
Debbie: Perhaps we could have another category such as "Provider"
.
dodoitsu series (rhymed)
Winter is taking the reins
speeding past days of autumn -
Jack Frost smears the windowpanes
forefingers and thumb.
You who have no house to own,
too proud to seek charity,
you choose your path all alone
that’s a guarantee.
Your attic room, where risks run
rowdy as the eastern winds,
barren refuge while you shun
warmer help from friends.
Churches serve a daily meal
without impugning censure,
Would a shelter prove to shield
Christian adventure?
God casts no smears. You must know
you are short more than your needs.
God produces once you show
you will plant His seeds.
Twixt four fingers and your thumb
winnow pangs of laziness.
Earn warm lodging ere autumn’s
freeze spawns haziness.
for Elly Wouterse's contest 3 Proverbs and a Quote
For my series of didactic "germane" dodoitsu, I chose three German proverbs, being influenced much in my life by my German grandmother.
-A poor person isn't he who has little, but he who needs a lot.
--Charity sees the need not the cause.
---God gives, but man must open his hand.
My quote from an international celebrity is from German poet, Rainer Maria Rilke -
“Whoever has no house now, will never have one. Whoever is alone will stay alone,” is from his poem, “Autumn Day”, translated by Stephen Mitchell.
https://audiopoetry.wordpress.com/category/poet/rainer-maria-rilke/
For word play:
“the four fingers and your thumb”, and “winnow pangs” of verse 5(6) play off of
“Jack Frost’s forefingers and thumb” and "window panes" of verse 1.
Word with two meanings:
Verse 1 – smear – v. to wipe or daub
Verse 4 (5) – smear – n. a slur or insult
double meaning proverb
A poor person isn't he who has little, but he who needs a lot.
poor person can mean poverty-stricken or a
poor person can be incompetent, inept
I used the normal 7, 7, 7, 5 syllable pattern of a dodoitsu but rhymed it ABAB. I really needed 24 lines to complete my thoughts, but I dutifully cut it back to 20 lines, adding it back in italics after contest was judged. Expanding on Rilke’s “Autumn Day” title, I took a different turn from his prayerful, more positive piece.
The Hurricane was Harvey
By Franklin Price
8/31/2017
The hurricane was Harvey, what an unassuming name
Left the western Yucatan. across the Gulf he came
Building up his power to a category four
Slammed into the Texas coast with wind, and rain, and more
Coming into Rockport with winds one thirty some
Evacuate or hunker down, to damage he has come
He leveled many buildings, and shut the power down
He sent his rains to Houston, to sit there and to pound
Houston, a large city, fourth largest in the land
Rained so hard, in hours, was no dry place to stand
Rained a record fifty inches, that's the Roman numeral L
Overflowed the bayous, made life a living hell
Few had evacuated, of six million people plus
Would have been impossible, a traffic jamming fuss
Bumper to bumper everywhere with auto, truck and bus
Would even make the best of us, wring our hands and cuss
The water rose, it did not stop, covered roads from fork to fork
More area than the cities of Chicago and New York
No one quite expected Harvey to sit and pour
Until the first floors flooded and headed for the second floor
Water, many places, flowing fast and overhead
Rescue workers needed or thousands would be dead
Boats and trucks and copters came to do the work
Reminiscent of the rescue, of the soldiers, at Dunkirk
The heroes came from everywhere, left their families and friends
To risk their lives for others, and the rescuing begins
Hour after hour, from rooftops, trees and cars
Stranded ones were rescued by strangers from afar
The Cajun Navy from Louisian, the governor called the guard
Florida sent their Fish and Game, rescuing long and hard
Soon more than thirty thousand were brought to drier land
Rescuers so exhausted that they could hardly stand
Still they kept on going on helping all of those in need
And took them to the shelters where they could sleep and feed
Some died in the effort, not all in need were found
Some rescuers gave their all, and no longer are around
This is what life is all about, the way that it should fall
We should respond to others' needs, for the better good of all
Think about your fellow man, in all you do and say,
Don't be the Harvey victim, be the rescuer today.