Long Centipedes Poems
Long Centipedes Poems. Below are the most popular long Centipedes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Centipedes poems by poem length and keyword.
EXHAUSTED = Ted's all worn out
EMBARRASSES = Them bare asses
CRESCENDO = Toothpaste in your endo
HAPPINESS = Happy with your private male part
PISTOL = Charge for going pee
FOOTAGE = How old is your foot
EDUCATION = Studying while on vacation
FORTUNATE = Ate four tunas
ALTERATIONS = Change rations
INFORMATION = All lined up in a row
REGISTRATE = Reginald is heterosexual
PHOTOGRAPH = Picture of a chart
DICTIONARY = Never shun your private part
CAREER = Back end of a car
EXPOSURE = Formerly poop for sure
WINDOWPANE = Ow that wind is painful
POLITICIANS = A parrot who shuns the limelight
BLOCKBUSTERS = People who get in the way of a bus
ANNIVERSARY = Backside on backwards
CANADIAN = Ian is a good adder
OPPORTUNITY = Oh a poor choice of a nitty gritty tune
PERPETUAL = Average price of pets in the deep south
CENTIPEDES = Price per foot of a cheap pair of shoes
MISCELLANEOUS = A missile aimed at our back end
© Jack Ellison 2014
"Aurora Spills"
Aurora spills like a waterfall
light from the eyes
saltwater tears
crocodilian
scaled in the weight of worth
a drop in the ocean of fate
breaks the seaweed fields of stories
they wave her in
rippling time away
fingertips dance mesmerising
the stinging strangers
wrapped around her legs
treading water in deep
infested notions
the coolness of
irreverent nonchalance
romantic or not
pulls her under covers
like warm blankets
heavy comfort
calls the broken
floating towards
the shabby matrix
new gates of life open
mirrors crack like eggs
the vision reflects
both light and dark
demon and saint
their remnants
embers, still
in the coldness
of prickly gloaming
like glow worm glen
fireflies red and glowing
sparks ignite
a rapturous bushfire
from cinders
billy tea leaves overturned
empty cups read
the yolk of a heart
never lies
fried casually
by the over easy
in shallow pans
of poetry
under microscopes
of blithe mordant critique
minute shards of gold
are slowly sifted
from the flotsam dross
some wisdom found
in the muddy fertile mind
shooting up
from 6ft underground
like small green plants
growing under rocks
with centipedes and
the petulant poison of spiders
in pink reflection
insurgence blooms
war never waits
silently the Pandoras smile
understanding all and nothing
of a small life distended,
swelling love
for that which was stolen
where bursting broken blue weeds
undo frozen jewels
diamonds sharp for the cutting
shiny words spells of insanity
delicious moments
melting time swallowed
spoken without voice
listening to ghosts
scratching through walls
where life floods
from glass boxes
coffins of buried treasure
banished
kaleidoscope colours
overgrowing
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“The Lady in the Lake”/ Elysian Fields
https://youtu.be/IjX8xfZ7sg0
“Out of whose womb came the ice
And the hoary frost of heaven
Who hath gendered it
The waters are hid as with a stone
And the face of the deep is frozen”
LYRICS/ “The Lady in the Lake”, Elysian Fields
https://genius.com/Elysian-fields-lady-in-the-lake-lyrics
Brown black centipedes crawl from within the white washed walls
Their shadows, creeping and quick, are cast througout the halls
Echoing thoughts bring a crashing sound to my ears, clattering
Music buried deep evokes what my mind hears, shattering
Rumpled white sky drifts like a melting glacier, carved flat
Or floats like a whiffle ball hit by this Summer game's yellow bat
Like this golden silver streak that now threads the monet-like sky
Emerging fire I behold with my stupored, half-shut eyes
The breeze tickles my doughy molded face with the stinging red roses
After a day journeying inward, my shelled body reposes
Encased like a cracked but unbroken nut, fading after the sun has ripened
And this hummus colored sun, now amber rose as it sinks, spreads the horizon
And the surrounding land, its bumpy rough edges and valleys, is slowly widening
Serpents slither here. Scorpions hide beneath our bed spreads.
Spiders, bugs, sticks, ants, and centipedes occupy our beds.
We have coasts. But what use of these? They burn with sultry heat.
Pirates sail to our harbours with their armour-filled fleet.
Predators of all kinds have filled our once lovely islands.
Where, once, flora and fauna flourished, wattles and burrs shake hands.
Our architectural castles seem to crack and collapse.
Dilapidated sanctums of temples reveal time's lapse.
Archaeologists try to explore our mausoleums.
They find noxious inland Taipans in murky museums.
Dogs bite their masters; cats, like tigers, cull their lords with claws.
Cows, bulls, and goats butt, stamp, and pin their herders for no cause.
Arrogance and aggression emblazoned by humankind
Their hearts and minds by evil thoughts, words, and deeds are maligned.
This place too is made by God, I know, like other places.
But, to cut the heads of others, here, each one runs races.
I am Cleo the centipede,
And my best friends
Are Zen the spider and
Kenny, the snake,
We live in a forest, so
Green and so wild,
Humans rarely seen in
These woods,
Due to sheer,
Anxiety and fear,
For if we were seen,
They would certainly quake.
But the day teddy bears
Have their picnic,
Is one of our favorite days,
We dart and slither towards
Them and spin,
To enthrall and excite them
Our aim, but keep a fair
Distance away,
Although they see us
Not as a threat,
Their parents would, I bet.
We enjoy playing
Hide and seek,
Advantage been ours,
The young bears give
Themselves away,
By the creak,
Of a branch,
Or a bushy brown tail,
Which tells its own tale.
We slip under rocks,
Or climb up trees,
Blending with our habitat,
We hum, and hiss,
As the teddy bears sing,
Each one does bring,
To this forest
A definite charm,
I would live in
No other place,
Such fun, as we chase,
These teddy bears
Who scream with delight,
Having no fright.
In our brilliant green forest
Which I believe ,
Is enchanting,
And mysteriously charming.
I have the reputation,
That I give venomous stings,
But only when life threatning,
For not all centipedes,
Want to bite,
And give one a fright.
I know a young boy called CJ,
Who picked me up and,
Stroked my back,
He then gently put me down,
While his dad who
Accompanied him
Wore a worried frown.
Well, my best friends Zen,
And Kenny,
Liked John a lot,
And the teddy bears,
Also often visited
Our favorite spot,
On the edge of our forest,
And imagine, I forgot,
To mention,
I have an abundance
Of legs,
Sometimes hundreds
Of pairs,
As opposed to our,
Little furry friends,
The bears,
So races we had,
And guess who won,
In our ever -green woods,
Weather be, rain or sun!
The world of insects is adither and abuzz
About the biggest party bash that ever was.
Their favorite time is near,
It comes just once a year,
The Annual Ugly Bug Ball.
Caterpillars, centipedes, and honeybees
Are sprucing up and rubbing rouge upon their knees.
Their costumes are brand new,
And soon they're going to
The Annual Ugly Bug Ball.
Moths and butterflies are practicing their dips,
The Arachnida are limbering up their hips,
And ants who love to dance
Hope they'll find romance
At this year's Ugly Bug Ball.
Both the mantises are planning to be there,
Such an elegant, sophisticated pair.
The husband is ideal
As dancing partner and a meal.
One mating tango, though, and he'll have done his share.
When the time comes they'll start streaming toward the hall,
Some will flutter, others scurry, creep, or crawl.
They'll frolic until break of day
To music the cicadas play
At the Annual Ugly Bug Ball.
Selected by the swift sound of hand to shoulder blade,
The bells upon their ankles sounded like seven trumpets
to me. I had been a chosen sheep among the Shepherd’s flock.
Lead me my Pharisees, I wish to see feel the glee in following
the Lamb within me.
The weight of my new necklace, crudely crafted of twine and timber,
swayed in a schism'd rhythm between my shins
bruises born from my steadfast faith. For I have never fasted
Before, all there was in my Ziploc bag was a single raw egg,
Two slices of wonderbread, three matches with no book.
I heard fireflies bounce in the air between my ears,
I could not see, you see I was blindfolded, but I felt no fear.
The marching sounds stopped, balsam trees surrounded me
and the rest of the chosen tribe.
Night befell the evening, the stars jumped and danced for me
For the Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty, His strength
flowed like the river Jordan in my veins. I had no chains.
Never had I felt grace like this before.
We awoke with gnats in our nose, centipedes between our toes
We arose, and our trials we must undergo.
Silence is the sound of our worship, broken by the
wood bashing between our bitten legs.
The kindling was wet, the bread was stale,
forging for food in the raspberry bushes, hunger flashed
in front of my eager eyes.
Memorize second Corinthians, some stories
I no longer care to remember. I felt the splinters
in my shins, the twine singed the hairs of my neck.
The breeze swung between the leaves and sung chants
that worshiped the King amongst kings.
The counselor crept out of the brush, and with
immense embarrassment I flushed
any of the chances of becoming one of the chosen few.
I could not immerse myself within the verses.
His eyes struck disappointment deep into my gut,
his knife drawn I knew I was cut.
The log crashed to the ground like lightning, the
twine left my skin red and raw. It felt like the
sting of a thousand roses thrust upon my nape.
My cross was no longer mine to bear, it was the end
I didn’t care.
I didn’t care.
I didn’t care.
I descended from the shining hill, back to
the cabins and basketball nets. I had failed.
There is a creek I will never wade, never cross,
I drowned in my disdain, my faith may be lost.
Another camper, another kid, lost in the flock
of the Shepherd’s failed kin.
The funniest thing I ever did see
Was a couple of centipedes in love
Walking hand in hand in hand in hand
in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in
hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in
hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in
hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in
hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in
hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in
hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in
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hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in
hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand in hand
©Jack Ellison 2012
Form:
Summertime involves barbeques and picnics,
baseball games, swimming, and dogs fetching sticks.
Pitching tents and sharing the ground with slugs,
centipedes, and other assorted bugs.
As twilight wanes, female mosquitoes thirst
for blood: vying for who will bite you first.
And at sunset, as evening breezes warm,
clouds of annoying gnats begin to swarm.
Ebony fields showcase flashing fireflies,
blinking in and out like sparks on the rise.
As creepy crawlers stir in the moonlight,
crickets break the silence imposed by Night.
The morning mist dribbles droplets of dew
on blades of grass that green grasshoppers chew.
And as butterflies sip nectar, first light,
dragonflies flex cellophane wings for flight.
Summertime's menagerie of insects
includes artists, farmers, and architects.
Alive, yet as beautiful as a gem:
we get to share this blue marble with them.
Water peeps, first; seeps in then; flows fluently fast,
Fills the courtyard; gets into our homes; pools unasked;
Checks the shelves and cupboards; as though a C.I.D,
Or authorized Income-Tax Officer on raid...!
Knees-level; we look through windows; Water! Water!
Huts half-sunk; trees river-engulfed; liquid terror!
Breeze, as though annoyed, howls, prowls, blows tempestuous!
Humbly break and fall boughs of trees ingenuous...!
Snakes, centipedes, millipedes, poisonous lizards,
Congregate as per species; torment as hazards;
Electric lines broken; communication blocked,
We find ourselves in lone islands; existence shocked...!
Rays of hope within, yet, in corners of heart, glows,
We all start helping each other; breeze of love blows;
Floating trunks turn lifebuoys, saving the drowning,
Amid flood, meaning of life turns as life-giving...!
27 January 2022
A STRAND (1060) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand