Long Compound Poems

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


Anemic Checking Account

This Citizen Banker 
     safely in his compound doth attest,
sans donning his typical 
     gabbling and trumpeting ways, 
     while legally tendered, 
     currently being cents 
     less lee swept away
     soul fully - bellow 

     wing from my chest
(with fortissimo, the
     whirling wide webbed 
     watery tidal swells
     rivaling the peak 
     of Mount Everest)
reef furring to being 
     nearly reduced to poverty

     hence, essentially buck
     king the tide while washed out -
     since day short and dollar late 
     circumstances force me 
     to cash worthless buffalo chips
     astutely as you correctly guessed
from deep pull horrible
     United States economic situation,

     where option non
     existent against invest
ting, nesting, and squirreling
     financial resources jest
accessible for wealthy people
     to sync investment portfolios
     region of popular tax haven,
     viz Cayman Islands lest

hefty costs accrue
    keeping scrupulously stashed re:
     sources untouchable,
     where Uncle Sam canst
     access ex cell lent
     healthy maturing outlook
     king monies, and understandable
     at rage against the machine

     if rainy day funds messed
up, but solvent versus 
     debts drowning oneself
     unable to stay afloat,
where declaring Chapter 7 bankruptcy 
   doomed to bobbing
     within a sinking boat,
and where pointless

     to pull out all the whistle stops
     including abandoning resorting
     to heroic measures
     while additionally futile
     to shed tears and emote
only kidding self to seek out goat
tam ma Buddha, nor will 
     I resort to gofundme

(cuz ma last name NOT Kardashian),
     but matter of fact lee
roll with the figurative punches 
     feigning tubby Jew Dee
or an incarnation 
     of Muhammad Ali
during his ready for prime time Box
sing rebellious jabbering
 
left fist out fox
sing prize fighter un
     defeated champ with mox
see, his champion modesty 
     oozed muscles like rocks,
a bankable one man
     Gibraltar with precious 
     mettle to the core,

not wanting with his pugilistic,
yet homegrown genteel 
     ringing true mark
solid core state athletically valued 
bankable bonded stocks.


Premium Member Happy Mothers Day

Dedicated to my mother, poetess of Poetry Soup that are mother and to all the mothers around the world:

An angel in Earth who watches for her son or daughter in their childhood, leading with her advices to the right path, take care or his or her when is sick, helps in the scholar assignments, in the teenager years, sees that her son or daughter is not a child any more, not an adult yet, worrying about that the incipient feelings of independency turns to make wrong decisions. In the early adulthood, a new stage with the college years, a young adult emerges. Later on in life, son or daughter marries to start his or her own family or moves to his or her own house. Then, in many cases, arrive the granddaughters or grandsons to compound a new generation. 

In the day that is recognized your neverending labor as mother, applaude the abnegation that mothers brings to her daughters or sons, since their birth until the last day of her in this planet. God bless you all.




5-7-2016

A Whiff of Carbolic

I sniff at my hands and oh!
Such scent, such ecstasy,
a memory presented to my nose.
But where do we find this block of adorable redness?

It was sold in every shop: lovable carbolic soap,
an aromatic compound, so ruddy, so redolent.
But this is now so rare; it merely
presents itself to my pleading mind -

a psyche that puts forth its arms,
a plea to a storehouse of valuable memory,
a whiff of an echo, an echo of an odour,
an odour that's been sent.

So who remembers, recalls a soap that's not
so round, bright pink, cream, blue or white,
that isn't sold in pretty-pretty paper?
We do so wish to sniff, sniff, sniff at an odour that's so old.

(3 Oct 2023)

Jo Firth

“It doesn’t matter if you’re young or old, 
male or female, able-bodied or disabled, 
we all stand with the same shooting [hold], 
beginner or experienced [to get enabled].“

Jo’s an archer who began shooting 2014,
When in June she won mixed team gold, 
At the Para World’s in Czech land, been, 
And in August at the Euros, got twice gold. 

The next year, 2015, in Holland in May, 
She won gold again, also women’s bronze, 
Women’s team bronze, made a WR, hay, 
To make her mark on archery’s lawns. 

She describes herself as happy, loyal, 
And also dedicated, started in the pool
With her sports journey, where, royal,
She spotted archery to then firmly rule. 

Then in the June of 2015 in Czech again, 
She won gold in the Para Grand Prix, 
The women’s silver and the team, women, 
Open Compound, a silver to victory see. 

At the World Para Championships, August, 
In Germany she took the gold and silver,  
For the mixed team and the women’s gust, 
Setting four World Records, no blether. 

April 2016 saw her win mixed team gold, 
And also Ladies gold at the Euro Paras, 
In France. Her favourite film, said, told, 
Is Lorenzo’s Oil, and Coldplay is class.
Form: Quatrain

Broken Dreams

As i walk through this land 
of broken dreams
I have a vision of so many 
things
Feeling the pain of life blows
Helps to compound all my 
woes
Happiness is just an illusion
Filled with sadness and 
confusion
All my life i have known fear
And the joy of happiness is 
something kind of rare
Rules of hate rules the 
world around
But for me they kind of 
tumble abound
Everyday heart ache grows 
much stronger
Pain now last much longer
Each day i labour in pain
Hoping for some few grains 
to sustain
But deep inside of me
A dead end is what i can see
I walk in shadows searching 
for light
But darkness is never out of 
my sight
I've been praying for 
someone who cares
For everywhere is being 
surrounded by so many 
fears
And there i stood with no 
aim
Waiting for a relief that 
never came
For so long i have been in a 
pond of misery
For which i can't help ' 
CHEW THE SCENERY '
I search though i don't 
succeed
Somehow am kind of stuck 
like an unplanted seed
I just keep moving with no 
direction
And keep believing for a 
better destination
All things lost and no place 
for a new beginning
All that's left is unhappy 
ending
All hope seem to be lost
Even before the finish line 
have been crossed
Tears of frustration running 
down my cheek
Salvation i long restoration i 
see seek
What becomes of a broken 
hearted
One who it love is now 
departed
I know i got to find
Some kind of peace of mind
All i need is some kind of 
resolution that tend
To bring this broken dream 
to an end.
Form: ABC


Premium Member One Dollar

One Dollar

When I was a kid, 
I worked for every dime I got. 
I folded papers, 
I took out the trash, 
I did dishes, 
washed cars,
and weeded the garden. 
Two weeks it would take me, 
to earn one dollar. 
Two weeks of hard work. 

Grandpa told me I was worth every penny, 
and that I would make a good worker one day. 
I watched him, 
I listened to his stories. 
I learned all that I could, 
about growing up. 
I learned all that I could, 
about being... grown. 

Money comes and it goes, 
but the lessons stay through the seasons. 
They become more compound, 
and more complex. 
Sometimes they are harsh and unforgiving, 
about birth, life, and death. 
Sometimes they are soft and sweet, 
and concern matters of the heart. 

There is a balance between earning too much, 
and giving too much of your life away, 
for too little of its value. 
The exchange needs to be, fair. 

I miss the wisdom of Grandpa's yesterday, 
and I must maneuver the path alone now. 
Yet, the echo of his teachings, 
leave me... better prepared.
© Ann Foster  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Peter Popper's Poem-Popper

Peter Popper's Poem-Popper 
  played and popped out poems
     all the livelong day

But one not-so-pleasant day
  Peter Popper's Poem-Popper
stopped producing poetry
  What did Peter Popper plan to do

He took his broken Poem-Popper
  to the Broken Poem-Popper Fixer-Upper Man
where the principal poem-popper fixer upper
  applied a dandy poem-popper fixer upper patch

'Goody, goody,gumdrops!' cheered Peter and his friends 
  but their cheers were premature
    the Fixder-Upper didn't work
Instead of 'pop-pop-pop,' it went 'ping-a-ling'

So back went Poor Peter Popper
  to that Fixer-Upper Man
And he demanded Poetry this time!
  The owner gladly mixed in silly-putty
But all the poems came out nutty

Peter-Popper told the owner 'Put in Pets!' 
  Every kind of pet that you can get
So he did ~ but Pete's not holding his breath...
  Police told him 'bout a compound word
    ~ Owner called it 'Popper-Death'
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Muse Came In a Storm

 
 ~ ~ ~ ~

Looking up I was so awestruck,
suddenly my muse was unstuck;
oh windstorm_

I saw a huge flock of bluebirds,
singing a song so long unheard;
oh rainstorm_

I got out my poem notebook,
my poetry cookbook, guidebook;
oh brainstorm_

Oh joy and glee-   I am carefree,
yes, I have opened the latchkey;
oh firestorm_

Muse came to me on the skyline,
with bluebirds flying a grapevine;
oh snowstorm_

________________________
May 8, 2020


Poetry/Compounding Verse/Muse Came in a Storm
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1249-637-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France


Written for the contest, Compound Verse
sponsor, Joseph May

Third Place
Form: Verse

Premium Member He Said, She Said, I Said, They Said

Sometimes stuff can happen,
Through no fault of your own.
You'd think all that is over,
Once you are fully grown.

People sometimes say things,
That are often taken wrong,
Then they repeat what they have heard,
But sing a different song;

And when the word gets back to you,
You can't believe your ears,
And all that comes about is pain,
Hurt feelings, anger, tears;

Because of what someone has said,
Repeating what they heard,
Though not exactly what was said,
Not stated word for word,

But only what they thought they heard.
It's what they understood.
When you repeat a tale like that,
It does nobody good;

For when you throw bad light on one,
A faint light washes back,
To the place from whence it came,
So you can trace the scat;

And though for some it takes o'er long,
We all eventually learn,
That if you stand too close to fire,
You're gonna get a burn;

So those who tend to carry tales,
Drop names and repeat stories,
Cannot be the best of friends,
They'll just compound your worries.

                                                 Judy Ball

(Scat - The poop animals drop in the woods. The sign hunters look for.)

Have you ever noticed that it's easier to learn to speak in two or more languages than it is to keep your mouth shut in one?
© Judy Ball  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Rap: Rules of the Street

Internally unconventional, externally conform,
In the game of life, it's the norm.
Always watch yourself, like you're on a stage,
Avoid regrets, don't let your actions rage.

Bullies on the block, they don't care if you're nice,
Speak soft, carry a big stick, that's my advice
They don't care that you meant well, or how you feel
your weakness is the foe, your strength keeps it real.

[chorus]
you see the same rules on different scales
Where national policy spectacularly fails
you see in school and in the street
Details differ, same human flaws, they just repeat

Psychopaths and criminals, a mystery untold,
Their motives twisted, their stories cold.
Confronting bad men, assume the worst,
Act accordingly, before you're cursed.

Watch out for the idealist, promising revolution,
They'll manipulate your mind, cause confusion.
Destruction lurks in unseen directions,
Beware the traps, and their misdirections.

[chorus]
you see the same rules on different scales
Where national policy spectacularly fails
you see in school and in the street
Details differ, relax, take a seat, it's the same beat

No one's exempt from history's grip,
Great men's mistakes, we all might slip.
Bad organizations, breeding ground for sin,
Leaders rise, with darkness within

Beware the people with a disconnect
They preach one thing, but act incorrect
Activists on Indian land, claim they're green,
Leave trash all over, for natives to clean

Reading minds from faces, a futile endeavor,
Intentions hidden, like predicting the weather.
Don't make assumptions, from a two second look
It takes time for people to reveal the inner book.

Troubles compound, the more you go down
Gotta face the facts, can't get out of town
One trouble leads to more, it's a vicious path,
The worst it gets, the more they laugh

[chorus]
you see the same rules on different scales
Where national policy spectacularly fails
you see in school and in the street
Details differ, same human flaws, they just repeat

These rules of life, hard-earned and wise,
Navigate the world, with open eyes.
In the dance of existence, don't be naive,
Leave the matrix, take care what you believe.
Form: Lyric

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