Long Clog Poems
Long Clog Poems. Below are the most popular long Clog by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clog poems by poem length and keyword.
Bull eve me (Adam, whether existence
fact or fiction),
his immediate legion heirs whole
heartedly partook
to regale no Joe king paternal prominence,
sans legendary, fraternity,
and consanguinity subsequently implemented
faux pas threatening Nittany Lions role
attested by this papa, a curmudgeon
resident of the North Pole
burrowed deep within tundra
necessitated drilling permafrost black hole
son, which boring task found me dissatisfied,
asper penultimate existential goal
thus, I decided to sell coal
to New Castle, transported
within loco motive conveyance
doubling up as fish bowl
decimated crossing Arctic
great barrier reef Atoll
lauded me with mouthy gift horses,
(one Mister Ed, adore
hubble hoof only high saddled
Equus caballus neighing boar)
feted me, a hay er raising chore
followed by Mister Barns Noble encore
generation standing ovation,
a deafening applause
resonated across the floor
then an electrifying speech
by (plan net fitness diehard) Albert Gore
describing raping, pillaging,
And looting dip lore
able incursions as heath n (moor
or less opprobrious upon poor
sacred Mother Nature
whimpering and softly doth roar
ring, now treated like a whore
telltale global devastation
impossible to ignore agog
pollution extant across
entire world wide web bog
gulls restorative legislation,
when offal debris doth clog
estuaries, where watersheds habitat
choking with despair,
thus imperative to grab hold collective
figurative (corny as this may seem) ear
cuz jackknifed, irreparable,
horrible gnashing fear
fully betokens catastrophic
environmental fractured glare
ring hooker impailment here
and everywhere.
Sipping from the well of sorrow
withstands an unusual life cast.
Sad rivers and sifting sand remain
tuck away this tragic river
apart from the entire world.
Tears stream down my chin
a liquid flow of unending love.
A waterway radiates pure splendor.
Isn't it frightening to adore...
something death may reach?
A frightening thing for...
loving, longing, dreaming, being.
Under a willow tree...
might lay weary love to sleep.
Your vitality lifted my spirits
your chuckle often buoyed my mood
your feelings brought me haughty joy,
to put everyone on the trail of spring.
When I ween back, I feel inane bliss,
it's a story of kindness and love,
for love is a noble deed...
a sacrament, a divine insight...
to love what demise has swayed.
I planted an elfin orchard,
in a corner of my heart,
it was my sanctuary,
a place for everything I loved,
music was sung, and flowers bloomed,
fine stars, like dew, clog it up to the brim.
Torn foam rose and was hauled away
Once the wave fades by a surge of water,
but it was never flawless
right up till you walked inside.
I had to modify my daily life,
from that day on, you were taken away
back to your home, which is nothingness
I got used to the stillness
I had to talk every time I sobbed
I learned to cope with the discomfort
yet, recalling you keeps you close to my heart.
Life is so challenging without you,
I feel peace now that you are in eternal bliss
I love knowing that you feel me
But coping with hardship is tough to diss.
with eyes that may endure,
and fingers that may delight hands,
still, you might be for your swooning partner:
just a whisper.
Written: January 20, 2023
Loved And Lost Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
DOSAGES AND PROCEDURES
We should not hepatize
the situation...
We should not sulfatize
in vain...
We cannot intoxicate
the reality...
The truth, however
poisonous whatever,
is therapeutics ...
The lie, yes clog
veins and thoughts ...
Pain and exaltation
are not synonymous and
if one can be a cure,
the other does not serve
as therapy ...
Let's do more anamnesis
of our mistakes and successes,
suture and cauterize
the wounds, the inconsistencies ...
Prescribe the elixir
of resilience and the serum
ethereal hope,
and we sipped the love
drop by drop to
make sure
of cure... !
Mommy, you carry me in your womb,
not knowing that it'll become my tomb;
mommy, on a cigarette you constantly puff,
and I, too, inhale the smoke that makes you cough...
I sense much loneliness, even though
I can't see you and feel the sadness of your day;
why does smoke make you reject love,
the tenderest love you should have for your baby?
Your lullaby isn't heartfelt and sweet to make me sing,
there's a sourness I can't easily explain;
most mothers are happy when they conceive,
why aren't you excited, delighted and really glad?
My desperate plea you can't hear, because this voice is too low
for you to hear it and give up that bad habit;
I want to live like others babies and drink my milk and grow,
but you're not concerned and moved by it...
Even your teeth have turned yellow and your breath smells,
smoke makes all your clothes sting as your brittle hair loses sheen;
how can I survive, if you continue to clog your lungs?
I breath what you breath...I cough when you cough, and sometimes bleed...
Mommy, I will have the same beautiful eyes that you have,
that reflect the color of a spring sky and softness of a calm sea;
mommy, live and let me live and hear my desperate plea,
many uncaring mothers have died and taken their unborn to their grave...
Cpoyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
In 1999, my youngest son, Josh was born
He was clingy, difficult, a bit sickly,
but delightful, had the biggest grin,
and loved to laugh
And the world dimmed in May of 2025 when he died
My world, my heart and our family broke into a million
pieces. Our family is each searching for their own pieces,
but I am confident we will stand together, but how do we move on?
The holidays took me down this year and we still have lots of firsts to go,
the first thing I learned was how to breathe through the pain
and the second was to accept help, whether I asked for it or not,
and the third was that God has got me no matter what.
That should have been the first thing I learned, but sometimes the body
functions more automatically than the heart.
Sometimes I wonder if I still have a heart, because it feels so numb.
I can feel it beating in my chest, and I am still alive, so it is still there.
But what is my place in the world now? I have job that is important to me,
I have an amazing family, and I have incredible friends and I have words
Sometimes the words flow freely, but sometimes they clog up,
but they help me to express what I don't express often:my profound GRIEF!
I love you Josh, and my world was blessed when you arrived 3/19/99 and I
did indeed cherish every moment of being your mother, even the years
wracked with mental illness and self medicating. But I LOVE YOU,
no matter what, always and forever! Love, MOM!
Eye, bye, sigh, die, guy, fly, rye, why.
Rhyming words.
I love them.
Tambourine, unseen, too lean, ugly mean,
Rhyming words.
Can’t get enough of them.
Bang, clang, dang, fang, gang.
Boo, hoo, Lucy Lu, True, Woo, moo, Goo…
Delightful.
Insightful.
Flashlight-ful.
Okay, maybe some of the words are made up,
But who can resist words like hup, sup, tup, and pup?
Befog, clog, quahog.
I could do this all day.
Zipper. Ripper. Slipper.
I am on a tear for real.
Peal, meal, heal, kneel, squeal, zeal…
This is making my day.
Hay, may, jay, tray, cray.
I’m really starting to play.
Squirrel, rural, hurl, swirl, twirl, girl, furl.
I can feel my eyes light up with glee.
Rhyming words make the world
Delightful for me.
Industrial decline
There were few oak trees left in the valley
they had been chopped down and used in the clog industry,
ash trees were tried to make clogs, but it gave
people foot disease, which manifested itself by causing
webbed feet; excellent for swimming but not for walking.
The Birch was tried, but workers refused to work with this type
of the tree, the clog industry went bankrupt as more and more
people preferred tennis shoes with a posh label.
The valley declined they went to Lisbon to find work and some
studied, became doctors and politicians, one can be both.
It was a Paradise for the donkeys that roamed free from the harness
and the pulling of a plough.
Wonder Woman
What happened to the me I knew
back in the bloom of girlish youth
I wonder where the years have gone
when I still feel just twenty one.
My hair's now fifty shades of grey
was a brunette back in the day
Wonder where these wrinkles come from
yesterday I’m sure I had none.
I wonder where I've left my watch
the damn thing has gone and got lost
Wonder where did I put my specs
why is it that I soon forget.
Where on earth's my bottle of gin
where’s the glass that I put it in
I’m sure that they're somewhere around
oh why is it they can’t be found.
I bought a lottery ticket
but I’m unable to find it
If it won I’d be reminded
in language not of the kindest.
Feels as if I’m swimming through fog
the mechanics of my mind clog
All I ask is please do not shout
given time I will work things out.
A bit forgetful is allowed
I’m Wonder Woman - and so proud.
18th March 2021
Sometimes I don’t feel like writing.
I believe it’s the mood I’m in;
And nothing seems to sync in,
Like iTunes when you plug the phone in.
All writers come across writers block,
It’s a challenge to overcome the clog.
Dissipate the blockage, where’s Drano?
Relieve the system and get the mangoes.
It’s time to plan for something new,
Always refer and look to my roots.
Start with the basics then expand,
Don’t get stuck in your own quick sand.
Can’t spend life in one place,
Explore life as astronauts in space.
Soon something fresh and new,
Will inspire the writer inside of you.
7/16/17
Quit sticking out your nose
Before I make the passages clog with blood then close
Cut off your fingers and toes
So that they're exposed
If you don't survive, you just may be food for crows
And who exactly knows
You think you do, but nope
You don't
Have a clue, how it all goes
Across the globe
Continual wear and tear
Over here and there
I swear
Don't you dare
Tell me about how life is not fair
I don't care
And of this, I was already well-aware
Now go ahead and say a prayer
About you wanting your life to be spared
I'm sorry that this may scare
And be too much to bear
One minute we're here and a second later we've disappeared into thin air
As it all remains intact or crumbles into pieces
Rarely occuring or frequent
An occasional occurrence or ongoing sequence
So much more than a thesis
Everybody had their own weakness
As well as secrets
Regardless of if they do or don't believe in Jesus