Long Convincingly Poems
Long Convincingly Poems. Below are the most popular long Convincingly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Convincingly poems by poem length and keyword.
Resourceful - conjuring bulk from brain brew
Remorseful - predictable poetry, spirit sinking
Perception - radically alters the same view
Pareidolia - open gate self driven thinking
Eradicate - enclosure - thwart cliche profanity
Enigma - drifts in layers of conciousness
Hallucinate - haunts the bridge adjoining sanity
Hypothosise - solidify vapour responsiveness
Fabricate - concocted charade materialised
Fantasy - unreal ideas give desperate relief
Establish - beyond bounds to tantalise
Erroneous - concealed, reveals new belief
Rampant written critters eat readers' expectations
Sabre tooth tigers exude from woodgrain exuberantly
Thumping words stir rainbow disco illumination
With sage persuasion, topic prospers convincingly
Slices of vivid visuals leave consumer inflicted
Scenarios spring suddenly, scorch on impact
Rage and rapture entwine, rapid zig zag ballistic
Buffed poem friction, grazed reader attacked
Written: 29th July 2020
Submitted for Contest: Pareidolia Poem
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
These bright eyes of mine that you see are not designed
for closing or for looking the other way when facing difficulties.
My folks taught me to look in peoples' eyes When talking to them.
I am proud of my gray hairs that you clearly see, as they
symbolize some painful times and toils of years gone by.
They speak of deeply rooted principles never to be forgotten.
You may see a few wrinkles, but my hearing is just fine.
And yes, I heard loud and clear what you said,
and I understand your 'whys' and 'wherefores'.
But I have been around the bin a few moons or so,
and you will have to have more than that to convince
me to freely hand over everything my forefathers have
fought and died for. You see, I know the agenda, and I know
the plan. I hear the bells and whistles, but I also see the hand writings
on the wall, and it's telling me that 'right is right, and wrong is wrong'.
And it's telling me most convincingly that 'right' will always outlast 'wrong'.
I know and understand history, and I have got to tell you my friend, that everything you are saying to me puts you and all who think like you on the wrong side of history.
060422PSCtest, The Pastel, Craig Cornish
There once was a man named Galileo.
To him, scientific knowledge we owe.
He was the brainy inventor
who said, "the earth ain't the center."
I guess that was his basic ideo.
There was a lady named Cleopatra.
She was sad, so I said, "what's the matta?"
"Caesar was stabbed by a brute."
Then, Mark Antony said "You're cute!"
And Cleopatra said, "right back at 'ya."
You may remember Jiminy Cricket.
His puppet said, "I sure like to lick it".
He warned Pinocchio,
"Wherever you may go,
be very careful where you may stick it".
Jiminy Cricket's first lesson for you
is he coulda lived to a hundred two,
but the sign said "don't walk",
so he stood there to gawk.
Now, that's him on the bottom of your shoe.
Christopher Columbus thought the world, round.
The King of Spain, thought his mind, not sound.
The Queen said that what he states
convincingly penetrates.
Chris now has ships to sail the world, around.
Found me raised
in the Antebellum South
born an academically gifted
whip smart, (and any other
apropos) above average adage
smart son with a
healthy dose of Melanin and Melania
donned and trump petted
asper a proud black is beautiful,
sans ebony badge,
whereat me instrumental mama and pop
acquired grudging cunning
insinuation to cadge
teaching material convincingly
claiming lofty aim
intent to instruct
slave master's children
all to eager to accept blame,
when any vicious rumor
got afoot with "FAKE" claim
that lessons did
critique and declaim
antithetical quasi Aryan racial superior
viewpoints (preceding Adolf Hitler
by about a century),
knowingly could enflame
status quo, which feigned
"playing dumb" duh -
faux blockhead frame
(wha ya mean massa) game
at very bedrock foundation
pre politically correct cursor meme
lee complex edifice
slave owning name
acutely aware intent esse chew
wing such societally
radical implications, to due
tee fully fortuitously, gradually,
and hopefully, un glue,
(especially via schooling impressionable
young African American
or other ebony hue
shaded skin with Jew
whoosh propositions of equality)
righteous precepts nullifying lou
duck criss bastardizing American moo
nuff phish witch hunts (sea thing),
a gimcrackery, mockery,
and travesty poo
poo wing credo, ethos,
highlights, et cetera sow
wing equality, harmony, and liberty in tow.
She squats and points,
her little face is all aglow.
Her smile is wide
She’s grinning ear to ear, you know.
She’s very pleased
at the discovery she’s made.
The little frog
is sitting frozen in the shade.
He knows that she
is his protector and his queen,
but he’s not sure
now that I’m also on the scene.
When did you know, I ask of her,
that frogs could talk and you could hear?
She seems so sure
I find it easy to concur.
I’ve always known,
she says, and most convincingly.
They sit outside
my room at night and sing to me.
I call him Fred;
He has a loud and squeaky croak.
He’s very sad;
his girl was gone when he awoke.
He calls her name
And sings a song about the moon.
I love him so;
I told him she will be home soon.
Why do you think, I ask of her,
That I can’t hear them when they talk.
The frogs told me
That grownup heads are filled with chalk.
When do you think, I ask of her,
That you won’t hear them anymore?
She looks real sad,
When I get big, like maybe four.
You are my frog, I say to her,
for me there never was a choice.
I love you so,
in my best squeaky, croaky voice.
She hugs me hard
And says Big Daddy, never leave.
Where would I go, I say to her,
My little frog, my Genevieve
Creative Writing was my love,
a passion I thought highly of.
A freshman, I felt I could shove
one course in my school year.
Assignment 1 - simple indeed:
"Who broke your heart and made it bleed?"
I felt I nailed it; Prof agreed
(or so it would appear)...
I think I wrote convincingly -
"Winter is not my cup of tea,
it casts its bread upon the sea,
my saddest time of year.
I call a halt, enough's enough!
I clench my fist and call her bluff,
and frankly, speaking off the cuff
I wished summer were here.
"Dog days of summer make me smile
when, grinning like a crocodile,
my smiles are wider than the Nile -
Elysian Days with you.
With bated breath, I'd greet the moon
and croon you some soft summer tune
until that wretched day in June
when you dealt me a blow.
"My love, you had me on cloud nine,
now casting pearls before the swine,
you ran into his arms, not mine;
my baptism by fire.
You left me there sadder than sad;
there may be balm in Gilead,
but you left me stark, raving mad,
about to go haywire.
"To add insult to injury
you said I barked up the wrong tree
and so I sailed on glassy sea
I hope I'm not too vague,
or should I spell it out for you?
In light of your foul witch's brew
I should do as the Romans do:
avoid you like the plague!"
Thus it went on, emotions raw.
I hoped my prof would be in awe -
My last line was the coup de grace:
I know this, too, shall pass.
My gentle prof, he had his ways
of pointing out my bland clichés:
"You do enjoy a well-worn phrase!"
I learned a lot that class.
// Reminiscing on my patient Creative Writing professor indicating my over-reliance on tired phrases //
written 16 Aug 2020
Roman à clef tragicomedy...
overlaid with façade of fiction = Mein Kampf
No need for yours truly to dig deep,
(albeit bonafide figuratively)
by Dickens thru mine Uriah Heep,
a gnarled mass creep
ping, comprising, encompassing, glomming
abysmal existence strewn with hard times,
such that I wanna leap
out this metaphorical bleak house,
a black hole in the wall swallowing
i.e. disallowing any peep
ordinarily yawping, proliferating, flirting...
now fumfering lamely issued by keep
ping low profile super tramping cheap
trickster, our mutual
friend Matthew Scott Harris,
where lack of functioning heating unit
(think male organ if ye will)
upended, rendered, discombobulated...
scrappy body electric hominid
to experience quality sleep.
Principal reason I write
to balance and aright
unexpected largesse
(thank you dad), where
eyes suddenly got bright
and bushy tail incessantly
wagged day and night,
a sensible palliative temporarily
eased penury plight,
which cash equivalent,
viz four Benjamins alleviated quite
helpful thwarting necessity to fight
off bill collectors brandishing
armstrong lance's compelling me
to summon black knight
in shining armor lodged within white
castle amidst prickly bishop
obviously one prone easily to excite
amusing little lord Fauntleroy
groomed as heir to throne,
enthusiasm since his birth did ignite
(Aesop pose) storybook life,
where fanciful elation did take flight
buzzfeeding, droning, feasting
on par with Mister
Bumble bee in flight
sweet nectar amidst lilies of the field
analogous to stripling Adam - fine lad
eve vent chilly seeking delight.
Ah to gather rose while ye may
tis futile wishful thinking,
now at mine three
score orbitz round sun,
which libido far out at bay
prurient predilections once
spawn time wracked to lay
waste vestal virgin such as... Little Dorrit,
now... raging hormones stagnant clay
hardened, atrophied, eutrophied,
jackknifed limp bizkit
long bereft testy tickle
yar seaman quizzical,
slack jawed, and sullen at
deserted abandoned cobwebbed quay
ignored do not enter, keep out,
private property signals desiccated,
no place for Peter to take holiday
barring ingress to ply skin flute
amidst hollerin hootenanny,
perhaps convincingly explaining
welcoming Voldemort without delay.
“The purpose of poetry,”
wrote the man with a brazen manner,
“reveals truth with steady hand
to heighten our sense of life.”
His flowered mode of expression,
making a poignant impression,
calls for expanded understanding,
to heighten a sense of life.
His seeds of change fell on dry clay,
were trampled by shiny shoes,
swept by establishment's constant breeze
into the river of yesterday.
I wondered how one who knew despair,
whose closest friends were sorrow and strife,
who wore a brightly painted mask,
could heighten my sense of life?
And yet, he spoke convincingly—
demanding fresh enlightenment,
impelling me, compelling me,
to heighten my sense of life.
And then, a doubt crept through my door.
It challenged with a boldness,
beseeching, begging, pleading for
a pledge to hold the status quo.
But I will heed the poet’s call,
will plant his field of grain,
with no concern for pain or price,
then thrash his kernels on my floor,
and heighten my sense of life.
WALLS.
Boundaries created by the mind
Like waterfalls, walls won't subside.
You need guts like balls
To break impediments called walls
You'll face it alone despite your calls
So beat the obstacles,stand tall.
Walls shouldn't be barrier to all
This fall, makes dull,
What befalls you, makes sore,
Forget what you saw,
Your fears? Just ignore
Convincingly Come to us,
Like the glamorous gods
That rules the day and night
Slight illumination strikes your sight
Don't fright,
Walls are just height
To be surmounted if ready
Be steady, don't be girly
But be tidy,
Tightly tolling till the tale-end
Until you breakthrough my friend.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©2019, September 6th.
Such A Deserted Relationship
You broke my heart;
Yet you were tart;
While pumping red;
You thought I was dead;
So I cashed in the gold;
Yeah!, I was bold;
Letting me be stranded in the cold;
You're not even sad;
I'm almost convincingly mad;
never the less, bad;
Ya, called me lazy;
I'd thought to myself ahh! you are crazy;
While in my mind our relationships is hazy;
Your brain is fried;
Yet in denial;
Heart still open wide;
This woman, self proclaim stocker;
Found sleepy, weepy;
Round peppy, creepy;
Lo, so sad;
I ain't mad;
It's so bad;
That we can't git along;
I mustn't look into the light;
Girl, ya just ain't right;
We were once tight;
I wiz ya boo;
And you wiz my bright;
But now I see the light;
I was in too deep;
Brain was asleep;
You started out sweet;
Now I need the police;
Let's let the relationship rest in peace;
You thought I was dead;
Yet you were tart;
While pumping red;
You broke my heart;
You're off the chart;
Woman you a trip;
I'm so thankful you want out of this;
Cuz, you is crazy like a desert plate;
Such a deserted relationship
a deserted relationship
5/4/18
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
Copyright © 2018