Long Comic relief Poems
Long Comic relief Poems. Below are the most popular long Comic relief by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Comic relief poems by poem length and keyword.
Paint a smile on my face, until mid-poem
a grimace arises and an acrylic peels.
What are these dark angels that cast such shadows
over my cheer,
force my hand to sketch
the grim roots of charcoaled teeth?
The sun is struggling to rise over a pastured valley,
while ravens pluck at my eyebrows.
Dark wings and meadow daisies mix and blend.
Death Head moths now emerge,
a word-canvas is once more lacquered over
by a dark and deep-throated coloring.
As quick as lightning, a clownish grin
flashes forth from singed paper,
such comic relief begets a portrait
of my surprised
and beamish laughter.
In the quiet whispers of dreams,
I dance with shadow's ebonescence,
as photonic particle - collider,
photosynthesis derider,
unveiling entities,
of "agents provocateur" to seize a "visitation"
upon the dimensions precipice
per chance to lay siege.
In the depths of "our present darkness",
petra-charred and invisible against the oiled skin
of night.
Chameleon sins-
spiders its neural network
across the fruited plains,
trading insiders
like it was the New York Stock Exchange.
Black domes in the rock of jig altar,
to sire getaway mountain dens and tunnels
for BlackRock Pfizer Op -Executions.
Their golden boy, will spotlight meteoric,
the proverbial fly in the ointment,
Act III lift of a-weighted curtain-lifting back wings,
showing a defyning eye and marionette strings.
Les Miserables-play on words-play on heartstring phantoming our opera, staged in
Anti-Christian cryptonite.
History channeled redirect
rhetoric dialect of reflected subject to chain,
and the death of fiat currency,
just a coincidental theme?
Freedom is a currency isn't it,
a Hallmark card from the Corporation
to the People- to read,
between the lines of allegiance-
swearing till blue in the face,
alliance against malfee-seance in press release
of 3 letter agency.
As Apollyon waltzes in from the bottomless pit.
Social credit scored to fit the bill.
Cloaked in fine Kingly robes of industry.
fact checked by the Ministry of Information.
When will love speak it's instinctual dialect
in a neon sign language not lost in translation?
When will hope weave it's august majesty,
Seraphic-wings spread over as a covering tapestry.
In cure of a cerulean sky with
hope diamonds of open transparency,
lifting us in perpetuity.
Till that day,
with each intrepid step, a nightmare before Lent
their Black Christmas unfolds
a returning echo on the steppes,
etched in our collective brains like petrified mold.
In an apology of words,
emotions coagulate churns sour worm meal,
acidic curdling of my stomach, a larvaeic curd-
cysted curse to the soylent green new deal
of New World sufferings
and pain, of UnitedNationsBurntOfferings,
with a disdain for comic relief
or cosmic entymology.
Pursuit of happiness for me is watching Fresh Prince.
Carlton makes me want to cringe, duck and wince.
The cool cousin from Philly gives me oodles of pride.
Come on, home boy. Come on in. We’re already inside!
He sparkles in his outfits, all flashy, with pops of old.
His comic relief is stunning. It simply never gets old.
Will Smith, you truly made that show what it was for me.
You were amazing in your sheer brass and hilarity!
When I saw the Independence Day movie rushes I said no.
Will Smith, how in the world could you be a super hero though?
After watching the movie in the nineties, on the Fourth of July,
I was wrong. You were an incredible action hero, you made me cry!
I was not going to go to Disney’s Aladdin until I found out
You were the voice, and I gave a happy satisfied excited shout!
I am Legend? I do not want to say anything bad so I shall clamp my mouth.
Men in Black! Oh, man! I have told all my cousins of it, the north and the south!
You’re a great guy, and your wife is adorable and keen, your kids so coo.
You can come visit me in Kansas City, whenever you want barbeque.
If I ever saw you guys in a store I would go crazy with glee!
And hopefully bring you home to have cobbler with me!
Am I slow?
I've asked for quite a while
Everything I do
Always seems peculiar
A minor fault in the way I'm perceived
I felt left out
My words
My thoughts
My expressions
They were different from others
I thought hard and well
Though not quite like the rest
Processing seemed hard for me
A slow dismantling of how I was taught to think
Like i needed time
I felt I was ok
The environment didn't think so
I got quiet and awkward
Loud and talkative
Not quite like the others
Like I was always the opposite
Stares from all angles
Emotions I couldn't understand at that age
In my way of life
My writing
My advice
It was twisted
No one seemed to understand
Only the villains in pages
I lived in reverse
I wanted friends
But we didn't have the same ideals
I was approached
I seemed different they said
Not like them quite enough but funny to be around
Like a comic relief
I want to change
Or maybe find the right people
Paint a smile on my face, until mid-poem
a grimace arises and the acrylic peels.
What are these dark angels that cast such shadows
over my cheer,
force my hand to sketch
the grim roots of charcoaled teeth?
The sun is struggling to rise over a pastured valley
while ravens pluck at my eyebrows.
Dark wings and meadow daisies mix and blend.
Death Head moths now emerge,
a word-canvas is once more lacquered over
by a dark and deep-throated coloring.
As quick as lightning, a clownish grin
flashes forth from singed paper,
such comic relief begets a portrait
of my surprised
and beamish laughter.
I'm a Ghetto clown, a fool for the cash/
Juggling dreams while the world does a dash/
If laughter's a crime, then call me a crook/
I'll steal your frown with a single look/
They call me a lamb, said, Take the fall/
But I laughed so hard, I shook the hall/
Crucify me? Sure, but here's the thing/
I'll go out laughing, like a jester king/
Got kicked out of Hell, the Devil's in tears/
He said, Man, your jokes are my worst fears/
Now I roam the streets, a clown on the run/
Turning gloom to giggles, one by one/
In the Ghetto, I'm the eternal jest/
A clown with a flair, I'm the very best/
Life's a circus, and I'm the main act/
a fool for eternity, that's a fact/
My punchlines hit harder than life's cruel blows/
I'm the comic relief when the tension grows/
So laugh with me, or laugh at me/
Either way, I'm your comedy spree/
So here I stand, a clown in the fray/
Turning dark nights into brighter days/
If life's a joke, then I'm the punchline/
A Ghetto clown, forever divine/
A handsome but tattered looking boy
Light complexioned kid
Innocently looking harmless
“My belle dey cry
Hungry dey kill me o
Make una settle me now
Wuse, one chance, one chance
Driver, wait make dem
Dash me money for food”
Echoed his voice to my ear
I was a morning passenger
In a rush to see a friend
Other passengers laughed it off
The kid is very funny
Morning comic relief they thought.
The little kid,
One out of many
A Non-Nigerian, Chadian origin
Oh! Oh! I see, they all said
But what about Nigerians
Don’t we beg too?
Poverty has only one name
Colour, age, sex, origin
Counts not here,
When it calls,
We answer the register in unison.
For many little kids
And many old ones out there
Time to stop begging beckons.
The sonnet is a tricky thing to write.
Quatrains, exactly three, must come before
A pair, a couplet, rhyming nice and tight:
A rave of fourteen lines, no less, no more.
True, limericks and haikus, although brief,
Present linguistic challenges as well.
Nantucket does not bring comic relief;
Five/seven/five at times can feel like hell.
Yet nobler is the sonnet’s higher norm;
The quatrains each pack meaning of their own,
Preserving all the while iambic form,
And forcing would-be writers skills to hone.
The words are calling, lovely, dark, and deep;
Alas, the bard could write these in his sleep!
Courtesy of Marx (albeit Zeppo,
Harpo, Groucho, and Chico), whose
acts (along Seuss iz Zacks Fifth
Avenue) brought generations of
laughter to Vaudeville, and then
the Silver Screen adlibbed, linkedin,
and ransacked skits zoid material
Bing very loosely based on his best
known writings (Oh Pee Yet Of The
Masses) by Karl Marx (no relation
to Bros Grin), and Friedrich Engels
whar they whiz instrumental qua
Cingular Capitalone political philosophy
paradigm as spit, and (shoe) shining,
seducing, and salivating players trans
formed Msn Netzero Linkedin Petsmart
Aleck outlook and pinterest, when their
collective insight did cents how masses
(i.e. bourgeois) took a rakish (otherwise)
up standing Norwegian bachelor farmer
for comic relief to break monotony of
agrarian obligations, and serve up one
heaping healthy portion per production,
sans whatever whims would crop
up by infusing thespian showdown
incorporating commune nic cache shun
(disproportionate) app peals studded terrain
with locked havens avast re shtetl ment.
Hoi Polloi re: common folk in sore need
of distraction and belief in a brighter side
of life, than saliva dehydrating brute nose
to the grindstone pathetic existence, yoked
as oxen to plows, where plodding tattered
shod feet scraped a pencil thin line, whence,
seeds sprinkled into futile ruts forecast angry
birds to shutterfly, twittering like bada$$
beastie boys Dharma bumming while On
The Yellow Brick Road.
Inn ascent bystanders avian avatars initially
supposedly sprung from ergot, mushroom
and/or smut spores, whereas the myth of
one mortal idol (Matthew Scott Harris) did
rival Vladimir Ilich (frequently corrupted into...
When I see the flowing fields of wheat and the clouds just above
It is the Lord's Name I will repeat in the seeing of His great love
Every bird in the sky, all the unique creatures living in His sea
All I can do is sit back and sigh, all created by the Lord's decree
Darwin was a complete idiot in the matters of just such a belief
But it's too late for him to admit that his evolution is comic relief
What good is it to gain all but in return you end up losing your soul
This was Darwin's great fall for even with it all he can't pay the toll
And that other nut Madalyn O'Hare she ended up winning her case
Facing a God who is so just and fair, the One she tried to disgrace
The elephant , beaver and rabbit all know what is clear for all to see
So even if you refuse to admit you won't find that quality within me
Look how each creature is provided for as scientist stumble to name
Of Your Holy Name I am sure and thus shiver in seeing such shame
Lord remove the scales from their eyes as you have blessed me so
Oh Lord please help them to realize the One true thing that I know
Founded in 2Peter:3
4 minutes never spent so wisely!