Long Clues Poems
Long Clues Poems. Below are the most popular long Clues by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clues poems by poem length and keyword.
Many a poet I know a fool
acting like they know-it-all
many a poet I know a tool
acting like "Mr Poet-all"
unknowingly showing me
their knowledge of poetry
has boundaries surrounding
ideas rebounding around
their impounded grounds
only seeing the same repeatedly
nothing new unfortunately
forever under lock and key
belittling anything new they see.
As a poet I'm not especially traditional
more so "special" writing additional
my raw and new to poetry style
unlike those into poetry awhile
so can I now pick the thoughts
of a traditional poet know-it-all
I believe to be caught in restriction walls
appearing to parrot what taught in schools
see if I perceive conviction in their cause
or robotic perspective their memory stores
too Inspect credentials for signs set in stone
content or unambitious toward the unknown
should I see respect or a moody moan
for new styles outside their own zone
Seemingly their priority is to teach all to try to be
writing unoriginally prevent the mind think free
in a strictly stricken view I see crippling you
never trying new or seeking something else to do
you have regulations on how creativity is written
preventing inspiration thus so negatively driven
speculating with unchallenged repetition
as though been tutored to a limit
you're now failing to ascend merited
having starved all but within it.
So please respect my detected inclination at play
but poetry is a creative artform not set in its ways
and those paved paths you pace and wear thin
were once unpaved before their now adored placing
so shouldn't a creative artform progress and not stay there
wouldn't it go on new quests paving unpaved or
invent realise and find in amaze ways new spaces
not be assigned a confined station like railways
instead seek to new roads or train to fly the skies
cus a closed off mind concealed in a cocoon
denies the butterfly wings the room
like a inverted narrow mind blinds clues
let's preserve and branch from the lay of the track
if poetry stays then poetry slacks but if adapts
poetry won't wear weak crumble and crack
recycling the same will only sink in to the black
I don't want to conform to the common or normal
because I see it as a creative short fall.
So why refuse new styles when you could embrace all poetry?
are you a poet or are you a phoney?
How many grave sites should be prepared for me?
Just one. For Robert Johnson, there were three,
all in the Mississippi Delta: Morgan City, Quito,
and (near) Greenwood. Which is right? Do we KNOW?
Those who have taken the time to do research
believe Little Zion Missionary Baptist Church
near Greenwood is most likely. At age 27, in 1938,
he died near that town--so young, with talent so great.
In the early 1900’s, this youngster’s genius was unfurled.
As blues singer, guitarist, and lyricist, he gifted the world
with recordings exhibiting style that has been admired
widely and emulated by popular performers who aspired
to greater fame. They achieved the kudos they desired.
Muddy Waters, Bob Dylan, and Chuck Berry are among those
influenced by his style. Every admirer who knows
the legend that ambition drove Johnson to sell his soul
to the Devil for greater talent would surely say his goal
was reached without Old Scratch playing a role.
What caused the death of the “Cross Road Blues”
and “Sweet Home Chicago” performer? There are clues
centering around his unbridled boozing and womanizing.
Did a jealous husband poison his whiskey upon realizing
a flirtation or worse, just as Johnson's star was rising?
Or did he die of syphilis? These stories floated around,
and others. Thirty years later, a death certificate was found,
stating no cause of death. Some facts, we may never know.
It IS known that this musical master's climb to fame was slow.
It's nothing new that, after death, renown may grow.
Johnson's posthumous claim to fame is no big mystery.
Beginning in the nineteen sixties, the world would see
a surge of interest in his music. To Eric Clapton, he seems
"The most important blues singer that ever lived." Teams
of researchers have tried to capture his life and dreams.
King of the Delta Blues Singers, a collection of his best,
was produced by Columbia in 1961. Writers faced a test:
dealing with conflicts and gaps in accounts while collecting
information for biographies and films. While "connecting
the dots," they learned that sources require dissecting.
Death, no respecter of talent or youth, is bold,
stalking and striking down rich or poor, young or old.
Mysteries of life and death often remain unsolved,
though diligent research may be involved.
“There’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow.” Shakespeare in Hamlet
**************************************************************
Augury
As the shine of the sun sets down
In the far away horizon
In villages as in the towns
And dusk stealthily makes its dawn,
The sky awhile pivots to pink
While clouds wafted by woeful winds
Seem in the firmament to blink
Racing across the sky with spleen.
Does the pink sky augur a storm,
Tempest, typhoon or tornado
That may buildings and trees deform
Without a tinkle of ado!
Does it herald devastation
Of fauna and flora on land,
Of harvest and cultivation
And rocking of boats on the sand!
Nature seems to have its own way
To admonish human beings
To hold their boats firmly at bay
And arouse their inner feelings
To keep those near and dear to them
In safety and security
Until the end of the mayhem
Heralded by the augury.
To scoff inklings of such omens
Is to invite spates of worries
From the clutches of a demon,
Let one`s ship sink in the deep sea,
Allow storms to set one`s house flat,
Disregard clues from the divine,
Let the wild winds whip off one`s hat
And snub signals from the sublime.
There once was a couple who lived a peaceful unit until one day they designed to have a mystery party. Little did they know it will turn out to be the real deal.
It all started when the guest arrived with bong.. A gunshot they heard. The couple looked at one other and asked "Did you hear that? Did you change the plot." They both said no and went ago with it. Little did they know there was cold blood on the floor. Harsh killing, shooter on the loose and no one knew where he lurked.
Could be Wade the butter, could be Billy, the chef that always carries a knife in his suit? Could be Sue the maid, Sugar sunny the exotic dancer, or could be the happy couple? Thunder lurks booming sounds like if its was coming from the inside. The lights turn off and everyone shouts now no knows where they will end up. Feelings of fear and smell of blood in the air the lights turn and the suspects and killer all in the same room.
Flames were rising blames flying claims thumping but one one screams. Stop! Stop! Stop! Lets figure out what happened. Clues to the sense she had a gun in her hand was pointing at her but the gunshot was right through the heart. There was no letter to say it was a suicide. Meaning only thing there was murderer on lose but everyone was a suspect at this point.
Everyone started asking questions Could be you? Could be me? Who killed Sue the maid?
Everyone gather together just one person was out the group. He feeling guilty and guilty he was. The lights flickered like if they were winking at the him. Nervous- very very dreadfully nervous had been and is. He breaks down into tears. "Okay, okay!" It was me, said Wade." But she asked me to. She was my life. She was my wife. What could I have done? Sue was diagnosed with lung cancer. She had one day one day to live. She took out a gun. A gun out of her bag. She took it in her hand and she took mine as well. She said goodbye my love and pull trigger I know I didn't pull the she did, But the guilt was growing knowing I saw it all and I didn't call for help knowing she would be suffering through the night.
"I am weaken in mind but not by spirit, I hope she forgives me. I am calling the cops I have proof of what I am saying its true. Now its time to let her go. Moral of the story is it wasn't a murder but a mystery in a way a person that knew it was her time to say goodbye.
Get up and at ‘em be strong,
feeling I am reborn,
coming back and full on
like an atom bomb!
Expose their corruption
my life saw disruption
I’m putting right the wrong
from where I left off,
unsighted and lost,
but I’ve worked it now,
connect the dots,
going berserk (bloaw).
All I needed was understanding,
couldn’t tell, look potty and shot,
standing strong now, shouting all I’ve got.
Giving it back to cowards
for slander attack, you aint empowered,
and this ain’t back handers or slapped faces,
it’s baseball bats and collapsed in places,
metaphor, you fool,
I use words to tell all.
Remember me?
Obsessed with bringing me down,
made an enemy,
left me beaten on the ground,
it wasn’t the end of me,
by you my friend I’ll never be!!
You changed me and strained me,
left me mentally exhausted and drained,
controlling my reputation, like trolls,
shrinking opinions,
Satan spawn minions.
Strolling through life in the free,
silently proud of what you did to me,
living fearless, all clear,
wetting your pants when I reappear,
and I’ve no fear,
alive so all can hear,
survived to get here!!
I’ve so many angles to ring bells,
shake up made up minds in that hotel,
you contaminated them then, now they don’t care,
until one thought they have seems spare,
so they think back to yesteryear,
and suddenly link up as question marks appear,
as lost logic starts to become clear.
What I say will line up, ring alarms,
dislodge your corrupt,
I’m not out for physical harm or have you in a line up.
Telling my story, it’s written,
it’s just this,
come back biting poetic justice,
think I fight just fists,
I've wit and you're just twits.
Now I understand, I drop it move adjust flourish,
understand why I was discouraged,
putting truth on a perch, it ain’t perjury,
my story you got me personally.
and others won’t see the truth if they choose not,
but it’s there in view and now won’t move or be forgot,
so if people refuse they do as they do,
in time they may question clues and ask questions of you.
I’m done with it now anyway,
spoke and exposed,
my link to all this now disposed.
All I needed was to understand, now I do,
I’m a rose re-rose and roses grow,
with thorns that warn,
I’m done now, letting go.
And I’m feeling good too,
I’m living life, and I’m not you.
In the beginning ...," roosts;
Christians and Jewish boosts.
Hubs stretched out their ellipsed
rung, un-Earth cures eclipsed
space; science clues darkling,
emerging as sparkling.
Up and down, primordial
chains--retards cordial.
Time slot checking briefly
when brain cells claim chiefly.
Focused an analyst
review a panelist,
truth and not devious;
now, post-, and previous.
Be of good health, nourish,
mindful, and to flourish
together ... we harness
our outreached true farness.
Constants are the scatheful,
equaled by the faithful ...
life marks trails that puncture
time cross-over juncture.
Naysayers, "That's crackpot!"
Truth smiles at the jackpot
as hopes, a bit mournful
of those fiercely scornful
Truth be told--mortified,
unseat those fortified,
advent-relegating
actions delegating,
doting are distinguished
evil hailed extinguished,
sage passage dutiful,
heart imparts beautiful.
Gauging your fealty
accents self-realty ...
descension diminished;
exalted goals finished.
Daily scriptures strengthen,
understanding lengthen
all regenerated
by the venerated.
A righteous behavior,
prophets teach, a savior ...
of a lost lamb was--not,
for The Shepherd does--not,
hence, Heaven will cherish,
hell reroutes won't perish,
reborn renews brilliance,
transforming resilience.
"as an entity in the dream we conjured
we know not we are both the dreamer and dreamed
how then may we wake up when we are in trance
in bondage to illusions we ourselves stream" ~ Unseeking Seeker
D r e a m s
when draped by the dreamed,
connected to the inner consciousness,
is a manifestation~
of etched m a g i c,
composing songs of the soul,
tied to the heartbeat of the Universe,
letting awareness be the curator,
no longer a victim of fate,
but rising as the artist that paints~
peace and harmony,
from pristine pigments,
through blissful brushstrokes,
to recreate a landscape of love,
oblivious to the illusions
that veil our visions with vanity,
confining us to caves
of perplexed perspectives,
with hazy hieroglyphics engraved
in superficial gold
from Cleopatra’s jewels.
And I trace lifelines amidst moon-rays,
grasping the luminous light,
laced with enlightened beams,
waking up from lucid lies.
My thoughts have long floated amongst
brushing off salt-soaked blues
that soaked my skin in oceanic mists~
surreal sea-urchins
that whisper manipulative mantras,
anchoring me to an abyss
that floats with nothing but darkness…
I see through the marine mirage,
the truth that no longer
is trapped in euphoric melodies,
luring me to dance and dwell in delusions,
as if I am a victim of my own thoughts.
So I close my eyes,
let my mind wander through electric fields,
designed to resurrect
the sleeping stars adrift
in my veins, lost in material longing,
blind to the seraphic glows
floating through the air~
Tonight, I taste flavors of freedom,
to attain eternal nirvana,
unchained from hypnotic reveries
that dared not unravel
colors of clarity,
and spices of zest and zeal,
engrossed in mindfulness
that emanates candle-lit flames of truth,
illuminating twilight skies
with dreams drawn
from fingertips of f a i t h,
seeking spiritual clues
to conquer cosmic castles,
detached from the deceptive dreams
we’ve spun with greed and apathy…
For we are;
the dreamer and the dreamed,
the lyricist and the lyrics,
the poet and the poem,
the painter and the palette
the musician and the melody.
We rise and soar
across celestial gardens,
absorbed by the light,
silencing conflicting cadence~
within inner chaos,
forever adorned in sanguine stillness.
In the beginning
All I ever wanted to do is talk it over
But constantly getting the cold shoulder
Causes cold hopes
You made me feel like nothing inside
And egg with no yoke
You can't be mad forever
Eventually it'll all come spilling out
I just wanted to talk
But now we've embarked on 4 month drought
You'll forgive me and I'll be long gone
Don't have Motley message me
And don't go callin John
You'll be back
You'll be back
Me and John are calling that
I'll be filling up people's prescriptions
And you'll still be making Big Macs
What are you forgiving me for anyway
For getting to know you and taking the chance
While you spill your insecurities out about your eyes and tight pants
Are you forgiving me for making think outside the box and laugh
You telling me they was taking forever to remodel your bathroom
And you had to go over your sisters house and take a bath
Was i perfect...no
But that doesn't justify the petty lies
Do you know how many times I blamed myself
Do you know how many times i curled up and cried
I never said I ddnt care about you
But I realized that I have to move on and accept the end
I just wanna talk to carry on
At this point I don't wanna be your friend
I just wanna be cordial and have nothing to do with you
Searching for forgiveness
You act this is an episode of Blue Clues
And I'm tired of searching for the clues of the real you
I rather search for Steve and Magenta
It's just started off as a big misunderstanding
Now 4 months later we have a dilemma
I'm tired of guessing
And hurting
Since I can't talk to you
My tears have to be my spokesperson
Tears talk to
But you might not like what they have to say
Cause they'll be talking about you
Don't come back
Don't come back
My heart you broke that
And in the beginning all I wanted to do is chat
You kicked me outta your life
Left me looking dumb at the door mat
You would snarl at me when I was ringing the bell and knocking
So just walking away was kinda my only option
BevelynKaye said you need some coal in your stocking
Pieces of my broken heart I got stuck sweeping and moppin
From this situation I've cried, I've tried; heart died, matured, grew
When I'm gone I know for sure you'll miss me
Picking on me
Will I miss you...
But the real question is
Should I forgive you
Time stopped.
Cynthia, frozen in glass shoes.
Time stopped
when she’d not accepted his proposal.
Prince Nicholas bided his time
to think. How could he persuade this lass
to wear his ring?
He looked over this fine partygoer.
She was having a ball,
so what happened?
Clues were all around.
Her fairy godmother, in stasis, hovered nearby.
Her gangly stepmother, with bulging eyes,
and two stepsisters - one in the shape of
a pumpkin, the other - catastrophically clumsy
was tripping over her own two feet, the wings
of her drink, hilariously hanging in air.
Clues all around.
His father, antagonized, annoyed, stern.
His mother, a little too sweet.
Clues all around.
Too simple, the music, a bore.
Too many wallflowers and simpleton-men
getting drunk.
Cyndi was ready to run. Every clock
in the kingdom, struck! It was midnight,
the moon, high and full, white and magical.
Ah… He walks around her, takes in her gown,
spun from the finest silk and lace. She’s full
of grace, personality and that smile
and flirtatious eyes, the bluest eyes he’s
ever seen.
Prince Nicholas, awoke only the godmother.
“Please, magical one, fix this disgrace.
Disband all this pretentiousness and lackluster.
Cheer this place so I can place
this ring upon this lass. She’s won
my heart. She’s the princess I’ve been after.”
That wand of hers, outside of time, filled the palace
with a mist. It filled each mind with happiness. Each
one filled with their happiest memories as if they
were happening. They woke up, as if from a dream,
smiling, laughing. All their senses keen.
Everyone was dancing. The colorful gowns twirling around
and impressive suitors courting with buoyant steps.
Midnight struck its halfway chorus, as the prince bent down
on knee and asked Cyndi to be
forever his. “I don’t know what I was thinking a moment ago,
Nicky, but yes…yes…yes. A thousand times yes!”
Did they live happily forever after? With a few kinks -
after all, life is not boring. And marriage must be
figured out with time. Occasionally-
at the midnight chime, Cyndi’s fairy godmother, would hold
the hands of the clock and lift everyone’s spirits.
The stepmother, her pumpkin and left-shoed children,
were carried away in a coach to Bumpkinland, far far
far far far away.
8/19/2022
You got hit with a earthquake
Not once but twice
Because of your ugly hearts
But yet y'all still violating
How much more shame do you need
For you to get it.
Father dare
I'm a grown woman of 44. You don't run my life I do.
You couldn't even be a proper father doing my youth.
You not a god but a loose clues.
You got your citizens ship. Now you assume you're a American.
But don't forget it comes with a expiration date. You still a piece of sht. Just like back then.
Sister dare
My son doesn't need no advice from you
You can't even be a mother to your own daughter. Like your whre Best friend.
My son already have a mother to be his guide. And that's me.
So instead of packing up tattoos on your body like a freak.
Why don't you used that money and pay up your child support to the baby father instead.
stop minding your business out of my life and son.
And keep in mind she's not my daughter. I could give 2fck about her(Ariel).
My son father
You think you good at cheating.
I know all your dirty secret.
That's why I turned you into Pinocchio that defines you.
You're a manipulator and a liar.
Keep in mind action and evidence speak louder than words of your lies.
I don't miss you, my son feel the same as well.
I didn't forget the huge scar you did a cross my son face when he was 3.
You claim he fell we both know it's a lie. For your a constant liar.
Keep in mind how sensitive I am when it comes to him.
For I'm like the apocalypse. I will scar you whole world. And that's how I get even.
Mother dare
Don't think I forget about you
Just because I get along with you doesn't mean I forgive you
I appreciate you confess your sin that my brother peter disability was attentionally done by you before his death.
You go around giving birth to children to take advantage of them and abandoned them like a true whre.
One of your daughters got molested instead of comfort. You abandoned her for the men who molested her.
Sherley and Rashida no longer live with you no more, for you're still a terrible mother.
I can see through you like a book and your secret attention towards us.
You no different from my father . Two pieces a sht that deserved each other.
I know at 16 I wanted to know who you where. I don't regret it.
Cause at least I know you are one of my father whres.