Long Clanger Poems
Long Clanger Poems. Below are the most popular long Clanger by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clanger poems by poem length and keyword.
Natural talent Jimmy’s heir apparent melodious
Line & length strength swing seam harmonious
Taking over from dream team still parsimonious
But Olly could be a wally & yet seemed oblivious
Bit podgy not fit enough blips and cantankerous
Dodgy quips off the cuff guff just all a bit vacuous
Gruff flips energy dips pace slips hardly valorous
Indolent & insolent temperament shamed odious
Thrown under a bus for Gus.. named cadaverous
Splendiferous famed career appears posthumous
We were savaged biblical ravaged plague of OZ locus
No respite Ashes debacle fanfare did blare rancorous
Ridicule the losing & boozing puss oozing pustulous
Anger that was clanger not banger completely bogus
Riff raff suss boys were all faff & fuss and so do cuss
We see wheat from chaff all naff Bazball hocus pocus
No fight just sh*te is playing for England too onerous
To our health the blight of this plight was hazardous
No focus Baz & Ben must choose real men the onus
ECB let them & Key get off scot free is very generous
Flowering again after long winter our towering crocus
To bring vertiginous rascal back not really scandalous
Not still languorous skill metronomic can be imperious
To harvest the county bounty for Test best ironic bonus
The big plus that Ollie actually does look like one of us
Which is why we fell for this fall guy & are still amorous
Learn did earn return for which we yearn not ludicrous
Annoint the sky high release point our humorous chorus
Astronomic wicket laden maiden from Cricket’s Lazarus
BELLS
I.
Bells has a tingling ring to it,
a jingledy-jangle silver tone.
The tympanic waltz, close knit —
angelic chorus of Christ’s throne.
And Winter parades its magic —
the pure white snow purling gold.
Morgans’ shiver and shake chromatic.
Enchantment’s carol — behold!
O Christmas day — the pearly gates
stretched wide open in senssuround,
handbells harmonious, worldwide translate
singing, sweeping, melody crowned.
~
II.
*Poesome bells! They’re morose.
Tentacles dingle-dangle forth.
Curious onlooker of its strokes,
midnight binds its ears, looks North.
The lonesome brass calls for lad
and lass with clean cuts and braids.
The aww-no sound is clad
in a nonsenseless grade.
*Edgar Allen dawdles with death clang,
its clanger brain, hellish.
The beauty, from tower hangs —
the dauber of knells doth relish.
12/20/2020
*Some thoughts from Poe’s poem “The Bells”
I wonder why bereaved people even bother with mourning clothes when the grief itself provides such an unmistakable wardrobe. Jandy Nelson
What I scribe assists and soothes the pain.
Conceal my thoughts and jam in my silence.
A sense of agony overwhelms you to complain.
Hardships from upshots or few guidance.
And the sorrow of collapse wager plain.
I cannot let wend my frozen dreams.
It filled my ego with scars from the past.
steadily nagging me, or so it seems.
It filled the vacuum with a mournful cast.
Delight fades away as smoke streams.
Spirits forth from might speak as a rancor.
Yet, nothing helped ease my sadness.
I suck in poison and crush out the clanger.
sick with grief, bearing with his madness.
Allow for the capture of whacks in anger.
The pause is broken, and the repeat is endless.
bleeding wounds, bringing eternal death.
Leave juicy tears of joy alone and friendless.
If you breathe in thickly, gasp your last breath.
My glimpse, soiled by each blink, was restless.
I retain moving forward and looking back.
Smile and laugh through the loneliness.
Lay my spirit on the soil, on a one-way track.
Write the facts again, hope for the wilderness.
Colors explode in a somber, limitless crack.
Return me to the realm betwixt eternal life.
Deny the facts that bind me afar of sight.
At this point, my lifeless face is blind to strife.
Thumps cry; all is gone; admit it; adopt flight.
Life's seed was lost at sea as a clasping knife.
Written: January 28, 2023
Writing Challenge - B Word Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Who is the arbiter, who will decide if " righteous" anger is ever justified
Perhaps the perpetrator of inappropriate anger will claim his excuse is true
whilst the victim of a vicious attack will maintain a different point of view
In some peoples minds there does exist as revealed on a certain media page
A goddess of righteous anger
How many disputes, be they large or small, are resolved with outbursts of undesired rage
Righteous anger, it exists in the lives of many people, be it political or religious form
No love or harmony between differing views
Anger begets anger, this entrenched behaviour, it becomes the norm
No forgiveness does exist between any warring party
examples throughout history, that's the way it's often been
Bombing in Belfast where the Orange fought the Green
Vietnam, Korea, Iraq, the Gaza strip. Japan
Russia, Ukraine and there's also Iran
So now I must conclude, it's patently clear, such a clanger
that the source of every battle or an argument is raged under the righteous anger banner
Let's discontinue unproductive lives filled with so much rage
The excuse of righteous anger fits the category of lame
let's discontinue human history, shrouded in so much inhumane shame
Let's follow the urgent words of God
our heavenly loving Father who
espouses the word of love
Fill our lives with bliss, harmony forgiveness
accept the divine message circulating from above
Forgive when it’s a mistake.
It’s just an error, oversight or omission!
Or may be a fallacy, a gaffe, a faux pas or simple solecism.
Or even a howler or a clanger.
Ultimately it's just a miscalculation, misunderstanding,
Misinterpretation, misapprehension or just a misconception!
Realisation is the only cure!
And remember, it’s not your chore!
Play the blame game only if you want to distort your scores!
For, only those who analyse can actually realise!
And, then it becomes lesson of one’s life.
Understand, a mistake is a mistake, it’s not a crime!
Yes, you have a duty to understand, stay clam and to be wise.
Effortless beautiful camaraderie will surely rise.
Just forgive when it’s a mistake.
Life is so beautiful, why unnecessarily complicate?
Form:
Word is
You have to write bad poetry to learn from your mistakes.
If you cannot think of anything to write right now…
Then wait.
Inspiration will find you and take over your spirit.
Just give it a second. Try and you will feel it.
The immense wave of goodness, filling your soul with joy or anger.
Hold it in or let it go, but do not just let it pass you on by;
That would be called dropping a clanger.
You may never think of a better line,
So write like it’s the only poem you have ever written;
The best thing from your time.
This is no time for nonchalance.
Dive on in;
See what you can find beneath the surface.
Write it now or never word it.
The choice is yours.
I chose how to word this.
(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
‘Turn swords into ploughshares and nightmares to dreams’
I have not one plough and no shares in the market
Insomnia has taken over my nights the rest is illusion
Ambitions are exhausted and hope has no yearning
Freedom dangles on the rope of puppet-less strings
Vacuum reflects an echo of silent ear bursting rasping
Dissonance oozes from cacophony’s apathetic rattle
The heavy clanger of other’s fraudulent forge melts disowned blood
Into ice in my veins as a purulent mind oozes vile battles' cries
Muted by trench feet scraping bottomless mind-fields and apathy
‘Pull yourself out of catatonia’s core-less pits’
But there is no kernel of truth and fruits of desire have rotted
To the acrid stench of a Self carefully lost on broken branches
Snapped composure looms over a well-trodden treacherous path
Carved into an involuntary hermit’s cave by a cliff edged road side
It is grave in the cavern in which vacant vagrants jumble their bones
Disconnect their last possession and wilfully trade skulls and bones
‘This too shall pass and so many others have been stuck in the rot’
And yet suffocation in some muddy sludge is sinking
Slowly and excruciatingly tempting to join forces of evil
A dark rusty anchor floats high on the unreachable ceiling
Time I have endless measures of but the world is upside down
I am out of the picture that has faded memories for the future
Dislodged and dismembered I am a powerful union of nothing
‘Change your perspective and find solace where it is hidden’
So he who is I from the distance finally lets go of unwarranted grip
Descends as far from the surface as possible beyond expectations
And finds footing of the shackles where the ploughshare should be
The spikes pierce my soles and my soul ostensibly drowned in sorrow
At least there is pain and some place in between scars to feel emotions
That tentatively nurture rescue apparently beyond impossible salvation
‘Your advice seemed hollow but there is some loving space left inside my shell’
29th November 2019
The DJ shuts the fader by mistake,
yet speaks his words in slick and practised tones,
but doesn’t hear them coming through his ’phones,
berates himself: That’s quite a gaffe to make.
That’s five whole seconds, nothing but dead air.
I’ve dropped a clanger. This is just not done!
The programme’s live, it’s not a trial run.
The punters might retune and go elsewhere.
But more important is that what we give
distracts, amuses, offers light, bright, trite.
Dead air is not an option. Get it right!
They need our pap: it tells them how to live.
Although this little lapse is but a blink,
it might just give the punters time to think.
It isn't that often as time marches on
that my glad rags come out for a 'do',
more funerals now, each year more friends have gone,
and no births to welcome someone new.
But a forthcoming bash meant I should cut a dash
with some formal wear brought from retirement,
a jacket, single breasted , years past I invested,
it seemed to match my dress requirement.
With a shirt crisp and white, shoes, trousers black as night
and a tie, subtle shades of pale blue,
and the time came to leave, pushed my arms in my sleeves
but something was amiss, I just knew.
This didn't feel right, shoulders felt that bit tight
cuffs were far from my wrists as I looked,
and a mirror can't lie I could now see that I
looked quite like a baloney, half cooked.
I bent forwards and shrugged, both my shoulders I hugged
stomach in, and breathed out, shrank my chest,
the lapels wouldn't meet, I admitted defeat
it's a fact- my East wouldn't meet West.
Passing years and good living had not been forgiving
and although I picked clothes with good taste
maybe had been too proud, but my clothes weren't allowed
to keep up with the change round my waist.
No cursing and no shouts, so I still sauntered out
it annoyed me that I'd dropped a clanger,
ensemble concluded, it visually alluded
to an airship just leaving it's hangar.
Cooey have you heard the word on the streets 8 hours of absurd beats
Doff hat to old school cool cat rule in the hot seat sat every tune just phat
Over the moon we swoon legends croon only a buffoon lampoon’s the boon
Phew we hiss lost you and didn’t have a scooby doo how to cope without you
Heaven or Evan's sent hell bent to be the main event a magical musical present
Give Chris a kiss knew we’d miss the dope bliss did feed our need for more you
Like the thriller in Manila not a scintilla of filler just another bassline flotilla
No fraud or clanger all banger the concorde of chords roared in our hangar
Mr Morgan on the soundtrack tiller our melody miller our weekend’s pillar
Won’t get too gooey eyes wet a little dewy guys prime time to tell your friends
Can’t go wrong sound the gong funkier than cartoon loon Hong Kong Fuey
Every gambit & skit en song ding dong laced with wit from his Sunday pulpit
Brassy every pundit knows the culprit could only be Huey you’ll like it..stay classy