Long Conspirator Poems
Long Conspirator Poems. Below are the most popular long Conspirator by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Conspirator poems by poem length and keyword.
Ghoulish shadow
macabre evening
eerie footfall
metamorphosis
hourglass swallows
collage
roseate rubicund
orange citrus
gold simoleon
tincture berserk
hover
wolfram wainscot
symmetry saturated
pigment pabulum
conspirator
mercurial monkeyshine
amorphous antics
sphinxlike skulk
amid clandestine
nocturnal nascent
twilight threshold
of
opaque canopy
weird whisper
jaded jabberwocky
jitters
flamboyant fairy
figurine
butterfly bounce
damp dimension
perfunctory paradigm
perilous
die-stamp subterfuge
teether
hazardous lingering
ointment fly
foggy flit
dusted
dousing soiled
signage
terse augury
of
alarm bell
behemoth boom
sanitised steel
enwreathes
aghast alien
caper squall
of
invisible inchoate
mordant malarky
furtive squeak
from
rusty dribble
faucet leak
smothered feline
whine
hair-raising hunch
blackened envelope
contortion
brume brickyards
death discotheque
devilish divas
funnel “fun”dament
whilst
trumpet blasting
trenchant tessitura
abrasive tin’s
gusty shrill
rasp ricochet
beneath
moon mirror
roquefort cheese
projects
apparitional squint
ominous omnibus
edition
obfuscate oddment
omniscience onomatopoeia
eldritch
Haiku Translations II
Illuminated by the harvest moon
smoke is caught creeping
across the water...
Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fanning its tail flamboyantly
with every excuse of a breeze,
the peacock!
Masaoki Shiki, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Waves row through the mists
of the endless sea.
Masaoki Shiki, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
I hurl a firefly into the darkness
and sense the enormity of night.
—Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
As girls gather rice sprouts
reflections of the rain ripple
on the backs of their hats.
—Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Unaware it protects
the hilltop paddies,
the scarecrow seems useless to itself.
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Ebb-tide:
everything we stoop to collect
slips through our fingers ...
—Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fading memories
of summer holidays:
the closet’s last floral skirt...
—Michael R. Burch
Scandalous tides,
removing bikinis!
—Michael R. Burch
Haughty moon,
when did I ever trouble you,
insomnia’s co-conspirator!
—Michael R. Burch
Ascendance Transcendence
by Michael R. Burch
Breaching the summit
I reach
the horizon’s last rays.
Moore or Less
by Michael R. Burch
for Richard Moore
Less is more —
in a dress, I suppose,
and in intimate clothes
like crotchless hose.
But now Moore is less
due to death’s subtraction
and I must confess:
I hate such redaction!
no foothold
by michael r. burch
there is no hope;
therefore i became invulnerable to love.
now even god cannot move me:
nothing to push or shove,
no foothold.
so let me live out my remaining days in clarity,
mine being the only nativity,
my death the final crucifixion
and apocalypse,
as far as the i can see ...
The Red State Reaction
by Michael R. Burch
Where the hell are they hidin’
Sleepy Joe Biden?
And how the hell can the bleep
Do so much, in his SLEEP?
Red State Reject
by Michael R. Burch
I once was a pessimist
but now I’m more optimistic
ever since I discovered my fears
were unsupported by any statistic.
Keywords/Tags: haiku, nature, moon, water, sea, night, rain, dark, memories, tides, insomnia
sitting with my memories
takes me back in time
when the bright sun always shone
on lost youthful dreams
as time runs away from me
calling for the mundane of everyday life
why does it now sweep me up
and seemingly trot along
to embrace me as a co-conspirator
woven in the tight fabric of time itself
time and again we attempt
to turn back the clock by our reminiscing
only to waste time which only runs forward
or does it
can we change the past by altering the present but
should we
embrace the passage of time as we can’t stem its flow
in the race for immortality as each become a memory
it's a strange line we walk
what we deem comfort -
renewed perspective
makes me shudder
I willingly lay in the arms of Death
who am I when not cocooned ~
I fear I could be the emptiness
my own screams of warning
fall on deaf ears
I need this moment
this moment that will strengthen me
validate my existence
I know better than to cling -
my fingertips touch only my own
I'm grounded in my body, eyes open
both within and outside of this beautiful horror
though held in place by it
thankful -
as Death has much to do
how precious I must be to be in his hold
I listen
to
his
heart
beating
it's there ~
da dum da dum da dum
its disconnect from life, so palpable
want and rejection
the two sides of the coins
I turn over in my pocket
knowing one day
they will weigh my eyelids shut
because after all
I am the co-conspirator
of every cold embrace
The world has changed so fast
that I was caught off guard.
I never thought I would see,
the hate and pervasive bigotry
that exists in the world today.
Then, the internet came along
and shrunk the world to fit in your phone;
opening doors that were once closed.
While at the same time;
every kook, grifter, charlatan, and conspirator
on the fringes of society: got a bully pulpit;
to cater to a select audience of like-minded trolls.
Corruption, fear-mongering
and alternative truths,
are entrenched in our government,
peddling lies as entertainment and news.
World War Three, once unthinkable,
is gaining favorability with the masses;
fueled by cultist propaganda and doomsday bravado
that spreads like a virus on social media.
We are polluting the land, poisoning the oceans,
and brainwashing the minds of our youth,
without any regard for the truth.
I recall when people didn't lock their doors,
and neighbors greeted one another with a smile or a wave.
But today, we're caught in the worldwide web
of a technological spider's electronic threads,
where, sooner or later, I fear we will be eaten.
Do ostriches not watch the Capitol's public hearing?
Afraid Donald's name will be sullied in the smearing?
He's a black sheep that subversives keep on cheering,
He's a coup conspirator everyone should be jeering.
There's not much worse than a closed-minded fool
who allows him/herself to be used as a political tool.
Politics is as nasty as the overflow from a cesspool.
Trump takes a dump and his cohorts praise his stool.
Jim Jordan and other Republicans refuse to admit
that Trump controls them and they just won't quit
condoning his lies and alibis, and why do they do it?
They're ostriches who keep shoveling his stinky s...
Keep your heads buried. Sooner or later you'll see
that continuing to believe his BS is a damn travesty.
He's divided Americans on issues. What a tragedy!
If re-elected, he'll expect to be called, "Your Majesty."
The five-year-old with his little dwarfish face refused to talk for a full eight minutes.
Until the speech teacher who wanted to hear him speak left, then he began to jabber.
I like to make real real cookies.
I smiled. What are they?
They are hot. I make them with grandma.
How do you make them?
I don’t know.
Do you use a bowl?
Sometimes.
What do you put in there?
He is playing with a bunch of plastic animals, ignoring me.
For about two minutes.
Butter, chocolate and other stuff, he says, finally. He looks up and smiles.
A co-conspirator in this conversation.
I smile.
And my cat helps, he says.
What is your cat’s name?
Rebel.
What kind of cat?
One with eyes.
Okay.
Big?
No. Giggle. Not a monster cat! Laugh.
We grin at each other.
It is always fun to start the day with an engaging five-year-old.
I shall never retire.
Whatever ensues, we'll bequeath to God.
God unfolds, and he sustains us thus faster.
The work we adopt should be uniquely cowed.
God has endowed us all alone on this matter.
To cheer, I should foster a dignified bearing.
As yet, each of the muses affords their amenity.
Since wagging devotedness in any dealing.
The verse is feeble and prosaic as a lousy authority.
Yet long my dome it bobbed back, I can't sight.
Somebody is flopping tight for a truthful replay.
With trust redressing the case upon the plight.
Decay is undeniably greater crucial than headway.
There, I'll yield my spirit a co-conspirator.
My zealous heart has generated the blaze.
After that, the sonnet will be worn forever.
Time never alters the line rooted in God's praise.
Screaming headlines erupted...
BREAKING news...massacre
barrage of gunfire
wrought countless deaths
newly minted unknown
mass murderer suddenly infamous
speculation immediately
trumpeted hate crime
targeted, premeditated, calculated
mass murderous sprees,
gunmen gloated gleefully
resultant mayhem throve
countless dead tally increased
security details, police,
and emergency crews
barked orders while
yellow crime tape cordoned
mortally wounded
and seriously injured
rushed into onsight
triage units as sirens blared
killer(s) coup shattered
tenuous complacency
prior cautious optimism
hesitantly blinked awoke
initial six months
two thousand nineteen
witnessed eerie calm
before tabloid magazines
ripped pages incomplete bios
unleashed blitzkrieg bullets
rent asunder sanguine flickr
joyus kindled linkedin
outlook presaging quaint
good n plenti peace on Earth
good will to men/women
annihilated as bullets besieged
random innocent victims
giddily, indiscriminately, wantonly...
slain in cold blood
immediate conspirator theorists
gin up rumor mill
defend homicidal maniac
simultaneously don MAGA hats
invectives incurring anti racist
bigoted, capital one
demagogue googly eyed president
unsurprisingly witnesses
popularity uptick
"loose canon" Grinchy grin
hooligan prince smiles
Machiavellian ghost lauds
apprentice regarding 2020 candidacy
able, ready, and willing
promise furnishing arms to the teeth
for every man, woman, and child
as campaign slogan.
The devil worshippers' son, Albert Simmons,
the Image comic made him antihero Spawn,
became in the CIA a high-ranking officer,
and turned into a competent and cruel killer.
The ace conspirator Strinson succeeded
to burn him to death as he wanted,
and sent him to hell to perish permanently,
where the devil made him a Hellspawn instantly.
With the brutally burnt body in pain,
he eventually returned to earth alive again,
in the form of Violator, a demonic sentry,
with no knowledge of his previous identity.
He wandered in a state of disorientation weary
with the remnants of the aborted memory,
till the time he located Wanda, his lost wife,
who deserted him for a better life.
He was told his powers might get depleted,
and to hell he would return totally divested.
So, in order to perpetuate the strength he got,
for his daring life a new mission he sought.
He performed many antihero escapade actions,
demolished the demon’s domination.
As the society was suffering in the menacing times,
he vowed to fight the criminals of organized crimes.
In the long run, his abode was destroyed to rubble,
he survived, and as he recovered from the trouble,
heard God tell him, Wanda was trapped in hell.
He fought with the Satan and saved her, all was well.
He redeemed his love for her who saw heaven’s glory.
To keep alive her sweet memory,
Spawn persisted to protect the people by his might
from supernatural threats that he thought not right.
_______________
April 27, 2023
Contest : Spawn Variants
Sponsored by : Robert James Liguori