Long Circumventing Poems

Long Circumventing Poems. Below are the most popular long Circumventing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Circumventing poems by poem length and keyword.


The Malkavian..Part 1

The Malkavian..Part 1

His mind has all the meaning of a madman that is screaming
Tortured and tormented, a life lived to be lamented 
His family, drained and defeated, finally retreated 
Leaving him believing that he was beyond redeeming 
The doctors sent in talked of hope and healing  
The drugs administered only made him more demented  
Cementing the feeling, that his life is just an echo 
Of the endless, timeless, all consuming screaming 

His best friend is a dis-proportioned bird appropriately named Buddy 
Who’s monotonous motion in drinking is somewhat soothing to his being 
Though not potent enough to stop the persistent pounding of the screaming 
Often he stared into the emptiness of nothingness contemplating the beauty of its 
existence 
Only to find his mind is drowning in a confounding conundrum he can’t quite define 
It's hard to be philosophical when your mental testicles haven’t dropped to the appropriate 
level 
So sometimes he whispers tongue twisters until his brain blisters 
Madmen mask madness in mindless task of mass mayhem 

It was easy for him to pretend to be prim and proper 
Just a mask to don in order to dupe his doctor 
Circumventing the system that couldn't’t save him 
He was as he always had been and would be 
In constant pain and agony with no desire for sympathy 
Just in need of some freedom from his prisons and medications
Meditations and mantras had given him a sentiment of a design
On how to inhibit the screaming and maybe even end it
\
Four years preparing and plotting the perfect moment of promise 
A fire formed from a single flame fueled by an accelerant 
Raced through the halls up the walls and killed all the residents 
Eighty-eight inmates and staff burned alive in what seemed like and instant
Such little time to search through the bodies looking for a single person 
He found her on the fourth floor clinging to the bathroom faucet 
He lost his virginity to the burnt corpse of nurse Denise 
And to his amazed mind he was astonished to find the  screaming was silenced
© Nate D.  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member The Suite Life

Yale student radio (wybcx) is playing throughout the suite. I’m working on chemistry problems but when a song I don’t know is good enough to catch my attention, I add it to one of my gazillion Spotify playlists - God, I love the Internet.

One of our roommates, Sophy, is from California. She’s brilliant and friendly but almost never leaves her room, which she keeps hot and airless. If I’m in there for more than two minutes I have to start peeling off layers of clothing, one by one. She didn’t seem this odd last semester. We take turns, mediating between Sophy and the living, picking up her meals and packages, like vampire assistants.

Then there’s a nice but nerdy guy named Andy, who Anna’s adopted. He’s sitting on our deep, red, four cushion corduroy couch, crafting an essay on his laptop. He’s a divinity student who I rely on to answer my deeper religious questions.

“Do you think Jesus went around telling people his mother is a virgin?,” I’d asked.
“Jesus had brothers,” he answered, “Have you ever read the bible?” He asks.
“My bible is Seventeen magazine.” I say, hand to heart.

“Listen to this!” Andy says - a peremptory order to the room - as he begins reading from his paper. “Disruptivist writers who no longer strive for agency, circumventing narrative in order to resemble the fiction construct, risk losing what Robbe-Grillet called the “intelligibility of the world” and themselves illustrate the exhaustion of forms.” Andy paused. “What do you think?” He asked the room.

No-one says anything. No-one ever understands what Andy’s talking about.

Anna and Sunny are studying and sunbathing in the common room like they’re on some kind of permanent holiday. They occupy two generous rectangles of sunlight streaming in through the closed picture windows.

They’re laying on yoga mats, almost shoulder to shoulder, wearing bikinis and Wayfarer Ray-Bans. It’s 12° degrees outside but there’s an oil heater with a fan blowing across it that provides them with a sun-like warmth.

Welcome to higher learning 2022

Unbroken Love Shells

Unbroken Love Shells

Do you remember the walls that stood between us like unbroken shells
of fully boiled eggs?
Do you remember there were no good reasons behind the periods of time we misunderstood each other when we first got acquainted?
This balm of protection helped us to maintain our virginity
We were enveloped in this substance deep down from the realms of the unborn world 
When we lay gently breathing as fresh fetus in our mothers' womb
We appeared to mother earth as Africans building ancient castles in the air
Beyond the genuine attractions that shined like seals upon our bond of friendship
We kept circumventing our chats around the globe with a compass guiding us in the midst of our deep troubled seas
We had exchanged smiles which stirred up questions awakening senses of insecurity
Born as blacks there hung the pure shells that hid the vitality of our constancy
-the rich nutrients our wearied souls would feed upon 
These nutrients would repair the broken tissues of the injuries we sustained upon the long hours of breeding fears within our spirits
Feeling as though we were enslaved inside the not perforated mighty fenced cities belonging to King Agokoli of old
May the very sharp pains that oozed from our palms of courageous handshakes
not sound like the operation of the devil's juju
May we never become embittered fellows
We're one family- from one black descent
All and sundry bathed constantly during infancy
with the time- honoured mahogany leaves that stood in the centre of the Gold Coast
Let's hold high the torch of love 
Keep it burning as we climb the Legon hills of this new era
And breathe the moist air that keeps our proud continent unique
Africa would unite to hear our success 
The story of the twin harmonious musical legends 
Nurtured from far distant unknown lands.

Ode To a Mother

Queen in our eyes! 
Goddess in our hearts 
Alleviated fears ;Shaped behaviors 
Built careers ; Educated a nation 
Sang hymnals :Through the moments slowly.

She learned to live and love 
Unperturbed by failure unruffled by haste 
To rise in the midnight glory 
Unbounded by time ,Undimmed by hope.

She sang dirges in ceremonies 
boxed by pain raze with tears
Called on a God in heaven ! 
Pushed by problems unleashed by dreams

To wipe our tears and fails 
Charred by life’s harsh realities
Unbroken by woes strengthened in invocations 
Into our stubborn adolescent years 
The hectic times, the sick bed comforts 

I reminisce her brief scolding 
Refusing to go to school for no reason 
And all her exquisite wares I broke 
Can’t phantom the pain I caused her

But she never gave up on me 
Not he not her not us 
Even the once who upon her laps they laid not 
A neighbourhood mum ; circumventing the hemisphere with her selfless deeds 

Spreading euphoria here and there. 
With little that she has and her love unrelenting 
For the ones she nurtured beneath her feet
With a partner she adored since day one

She smiles and there’s hope 
Of small beginnings and of grand endings 
In her voice comfort and peace 
I will forever be grateful for a mother like you 

So thank you for words uttered 
Your actions and inactions 
Thank you for the love unconditional 
Even In your anger in your pain 

Thank you for souls well nurtured 
The spanks so brusque The food The gifts 
Thank you for the care unending 
May God bless you always 
Thank you for a life well lived 
In your footsteps we follow suit.
© Kofi Amed   Create an image from this poem.
Form: Ode

The Lonely Tree

You’ve all seen me, on your walks, your travels - the lonely tree
If you have had a thought - your probably would have just said, that’s strange,
but it’s nature - so let it be

But I have feelings you know
Why when my seed was planted - others not sown
I grew up with no friends
Occasionally I would be looked at by the farmer who would tend

To any branches growing in the wrong direction
And with a saw, he would take out that section
But to me, it was like taking off a limb
One that I spent years growing and now sprouting acorns that would yield
Necessary food for birds and animals as I stood lonely in this field

I stand throughout the seasons
In wind, rain, snow and blizzards  - in weather that may be considered treason
But of all seasons, I welcome the spring
My arms (branches) start producing blossom - making my wooden heart go “ting”

The sun is now so warm
That is welcome, but not the wasps that swarm
To any nooks and crannies I might have in my trunk
To build a nest at the cost of the little birds who have to do a bunk

Summer is hot, making my roots thirsty
And the growing wheat noisily cracking and snapping in the sunshine - now looking dirty
In the woods nearby I hear different buds tweeting
Neighbouring fields I hear sheep bleating

But as you will see I am still that lonely tree
But now it is the Autumn, bringing the tractor that ploughs my field
Carefully circumventing me before planting more seed
For more wheat to grow next year
With the wind, I shake my leaves and shed a tear
As I understand that it will be another year
That I will be that lonely tree
© Jo Young  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member The Elderly Man and His Speach

The elderly man we call leader
Would shout as if our ears couldn't hear,
Then whisper with the expectation 
We would agree to adhere to his
Foreign invasion~
Ten million strong from every nation.

Who was that girl, he could barely recall,
But he finally did (mis)speak her name 
Because it wasn't on the teleprompter,
Neither was the word "illegal" 
and his mob soon let him know 
the word he should use is "undocumented."

The cities are crying blue tears and repenting,
Their citizens are no longer pretending 
That all is peace and joy and love;
Our children are kicked out of school 
To make room for all the illegal immigrant poor,
After all don't we owe them the American dream?

I am, you know, adamantly* against illegal immigration. ~Hillary Clinton

We simply cannot allow people to pour into the United States undetected, undocumented, unchecked, and circumventing the line of people who are waiting patiently, diligently, and lawfully to become immigrants in this country. ~Barack Obama 

The issues surrounding illegal immigration are wide-ranging and complex, but there is no question about the need to secure our borders. ~Roger Wicker

I have fought on the front lines to prevent illegal immigration. I know Donald Trump will stand with me and countless Americans to secure our border. ~Joe Arpaio

*adamantly(adverb): a way that suggests one will not be persuaded to change one's mind; firmly and resolutely.

Answering the Serpent's Call

The serpent called her

And as if swans carried her light airy behind
She ran through the cooling blue vines of the garden

Into a jungle that puffed magenta steam clouds 
Circumventing cawing crowds of warning green fowl

She wasn’t startled by the beast’s bright yellow face
Nor his elongated serpentine demeanor 

In fact she formed a one-woman army of souls
That would one day inhabit her entire planet 

She listened to his soft persuading elocute
And dreamed to appropriate her ghostly master

He entwined and penetrated her quiescent mind
Persuading and enticing with promised power 

She became the trained monkey of the tempter
The first of millions that would soon go after her

Like a hungry macaque she climbed the great tree
In search of her creator’s forbidden construct

Reaching the golden fruited orb with heated breath
She plucked it without hesitation or regret

Racing through a luscious sea of green and amethyst
She finds her sleeping mate beneath a giant mushroom

She awakens him with an erotic purring
Her tantalizing womanhood nude for his taste

Drunken from her enveloping draining pleasure
He accepts her offer of golden fruited prize
  
As they greedily dinned the garden slowly died
And the master revoked their immortality

Clothed with wilting turquoise leaves to cover new guilt
They fled their luscious home for the valley of death

Never to return
© Gary Jones  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Couplet

Judging the Judas Effect

The Caesars confoundingly conjugate, metagrobolizing to manipulate,
The egotistical empires inflate, humanity is harvested to depopulate…
He who lives by the sword, soon to be entombed by their heavy hoard,
 Immaculate idols worshiped and adored, as for the poor to be ignored;

Pious pretenders to proclaim, circumventing circumstances not to blame,
Their Judas kiss bringing fame, within their subterranean scornful shame…
Thirty pieces of silver betrayed, the godless genocides have now been paid,
The snakes slithering in their shade, as the populous is slowly swayed;

Crosses made out of simple sticks, perplexing parasites playing politics,
Amidst their tyranny, they transfix, seducing symphonies tuning tricks…
Three days of darkness set to rule, double-crossed is the fanatical fool,
The demons desecrate in their drool, secreting sins through their stool.




There is great corruption everywhere...evil hides amongst the innocent...particularly in some of our churches and other religious denominations including parts of the Vatican...but thank god there are spiritual soldiers there as well...god bless them...the battles of good & evil continue.


...play the video first--then listen to the poem a few seconds later...




April.15.2020
STRAND NO 730
Sponsored by: Brian Strand

N/A for contest
Form: Rhyme

Escaping Rhymed Detonation

Malevolent imploded uncontrollably, 
  twisting wildly maniacal posies
   amid diabolically toasted brainstem, 
angst uncompromisingly yanked tresses 
  purging stinging speech patterned rhymes
 amuck iniquitous poetic verses hung
     upside down to tormentingly dry, 
    facing other inimically knotted borders of
  antagonistic galleries in deranged snapshots 
           razing warped poetical tapestries,  
tripping on tunes of whiskey rushes' savoy truffles
    and greenish tangerines whilst Led Zeppelin's 
 Sick Again danced upon reflective ceiling tiles, 
time written sideways 'round alleged autonomy
    hidden furthermost immune masked mirror images,
   debauching Greek braille calligraphy's vindication
           on walls of graffito scripted physicality 
       calling out 'tween hysterical compulsions, 
  naught one heeded the sounds of synapses 
     about ill-fated half moon's arresting arc, 
   synthetic doomsday's clocks aptly chimed 
    quarter to analytical cuckoo's nest repudiation, 
  still awaiting on serendipity to surrender 
           furthermost rabbit hole's curiouser rants,
relinquishing unwell-languaged compilations' sabotage - -
      circumventing rhythmically subversive escaped detonation
© Paloma P   Create an image from this poem.
Form: Imagism

In Another Time

My worst fear is to be trapped in a world, where nothing is real;
A terrestrial nightmare that's just a façade.
Existing in a realm where there's nothing to feel;
Living beneath a Heaven, where there is no God.

Escalated fears in the absence of rule,
Leaders circumventing our every natural birthright.
Usurping freedoms and sharpening their tools;
Powers that govern, in the darkness of night.

Sinister sovereign rulers, their powers unclipped,
Expressing total suppression over the land.
Where righteousness, its virtues now stripped,
Succumbs to the darkness, as the wave to the sand.

How dark is the night, that never sees day;
Naivety of the lamb; an injustice absolute.
How deep the ocean; how crimson the bay?
Man's inhumanity to man, the devil's commute.

I'd suffer the pangs of the samurai's sword
Rather than see my children languish in despair.
My worst fear is their absence of any reward,
In a world riddled with deceptiveness, almost beyond repair.

Where is the justice in this world so unfair?
Nothing other than the silent voices of the people,
Will ever free us from this most nefarious nightmare.

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