Long Cranny Poems
Long Cranny Poems. Below are the most popular long Cranny by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cranny poems by poem length and keyword.
This generic creek king mortal mwm
(who generally river ears the bay sea gully feels ire ate
asper propensity plundering positive human qualities
tested to the max), bait
ting virtue with rapacious opprobrious
malicious lugubriousness, and hatred create
head via the violent wickedness yawping zealously
oceans of tears that in un date
every nook and cranny of society, wrenching,
whip-sawing, and hammering extirpate
ting, the delicate nuances that anthropological fate
bequeathed to *****sapiens
species and genus undermining great
ness brought forth by artistic, democratic,
and graphic accomplishments with HATE
diluting the virtuous unification treatises
agonizingly tried to insulate
basic rights, whence erosion, corrosion,
and abrasion with goliath gangrenous monstrosities of late
subtract at frightful pace, the very survival of mankind and doth mate
absolute evil that percolates into the body electric,
where bloody fiendish genies prosper upending immunity
fostering broods that deign devious strategies in Nate
to destroy any salient sliver via BuzzFeed ding fifty shades of a gray pate
outwitting tentative grasp upon survival
barely fending off lashing off faux kings who e quate
might with right, and bring out the big guns
which blitzkrieg magazines fire at greased lightening speed rate
this battle whereby competing credos, ethos,
and grand Poobah grinds by force state
mints that all most obey lest Das Capital life will not tolerate
nasty, short and brutish torture engendering wailing ululate
diminish in a vain attempt to escape the maws of madness
where the grim reaper doth patiently wait.
Don (ta) Ask Me 'Bout Exacerbation Of Trumpeted "FAKE" News
written September 19th, 2018, and following words still ring (more true) today – exactly six years later.
The then forty fifth prez
of United States of America
best get sent packing
to Lake woebegone
forced to coexist amidst University
of Pennsylvania Dutch
men in breeches
(May Apple lie)
swampy netherlands awash
with bipedal hominid
sucker punching leeches
where within every
whirled wide webbed
nook and cranny
Nietzscheism reaches,
and survival of fittest
iz basic credo,
and dogmatic ethos,
analogous to an apprentice teaches
a most frightful distortion of facts
and make up mistruths
indiscriminately bandied about
said alarmist blatant LIES
blithely stated with dangerous clout
appearing oblivious and totally
clueless without a doubt
punctuating with doubt Thomas
pettifogging questionable details
FALSE exclamations
generating fear with mindless
ignorance exaggerating protocols
as he doth emphatically flout
begetting, engendering,
and inflicting emotional gout
nothing accomplished by
hash tagging him a "LOUT"
and more opprobrious affect
would ensue anew
undeservedly praising him,
whose animus toward
Democrats would brew
but no matter what (tick)
tack toe taken,
he got nary a blue's clue
about vital issues,
which lack of insight
even Scooby Doo
would agree, heck the Americans
may as well install an emu
with more positive
forthcoming results,
cuz dis dope head like hellacious,
ludicrous, pernicious evils
in Pandora's box flew
his every actions
destroying essential glue
that sets this country apart
approximating Democracy, where hue
mans comprise melting pot,
whether Eskimos (er...
rather Inuits) in their
(fast melting) igloo
gentile, heathen, or Jew
experience limitless
pasta billet teas
applying their new
dill (aptitude) reaching
titular status of parvenu,
especially trumping proper, "P's"
and most every "Q"
before Wharton peer review.
Winter is approaching.
I feel it in my floorboards; in my baseboards;
in every nook and cranny.
I wait to be filled again at this time of Thanksgiving, and
As I wait, sounds of the past linger in my consciousness:
The excited moans of the men and of the women (some of whose
first introduction to me came from being carried across my threshold)
as they lay close together in their bed late at night;
The strange incessant wailing of babies that later arrived -
wailing that later changed, more often than not, into squeals of glee.
Some of the families I sheltered engulfed me with heaviness.
In those years, I was assaulted by loud shouting,
much like the barking of dogs from outside.
Those shouts were often met by shrill hysterical screams
or even by the sad sobs of children.
One sound stays with me like a ghost: the quiet weeping
of one lone occupant who held a gun to his head.
In an instant I felt his blood splatter against my walls.
I prefer to remember the touch of the children:
their small smudged fingers exploring my kitchen cupboards;
their tiny warm bodies scooting across my tiles.
On one unusual occasion, a child scribbled happily
on my bathroom walls with bright Crayola colors.
After the explosion of his mother’s angry words,
the bathroom was transformed, and with magic paper
a small part of me was wearing the figures of gold and purple fish.
Forty times or more I’ve been left; then re-inhabited.
Several times I’ve been overhauled: my carpet torn out, a new one laid;
my doors and my fixtures changed for modern ones;
my furnace and my pipes (even once a ceiling) - all replaced.
But lately, I’ve felt so weary, and even renovated, I’m feeling out of place.
Just last month as I was emptied and cleaned for the umpteenth time,
I heard the newest landlord tell his wife:
We won’t have to put up with this crap anymore -
not after we get the offer from those guys who want to build a mall.
I wonder what he meant. My heat and water both have been cut off for so long.
Usually a couple is here by now. But only silence echoes through my halls,
and I’m growing so very cold.
When the owls are out of town
his studded boots
kick-up featherless hoots
from struts, studs and props.
He is the creak and groan of tired wood,
the cough and splutter of the A/C.
yet he is more;
all inexplicable noises belong to him.
He owns each nook and cranny
rents out crawls-spaces
to those that crawl.
I hear him stumble
bent between the rafters
of starless nights,
hear him wheeze through
long unheeded chores.
A maintenance ghost
tweaking blue-collar moons
grumbling as he bends over a beer belly
testing pipes
while dropping well-used tools.
He is that unseen plumber
who rattles arcane engineering
still working his shift,
a tinker of loose screws and
shaky valves.
He's night noise hard at work
plugging leaks
between colliding worlds.
IT'S ABOUT TIME What are you waiting for?
Take up your dream and start the journey like an eagle,
Soar to every nook and cranny until you reach the pinnacle,
Don't forget to wear your confidence as a missile,
Because fear will definitely be an obstacle.
You have sat for long.
Stand up and start the race,
Don't think about others' lanes, focus on your provided space,
When you are reaching gradually, don't let pride take humility's place,
But remember it's just by grace.
You have been thinking for so long.
Stop and switch on your vision,
Look through and watch your ambition,
Don't let it be a still birth, let accomplishing be your mission,
As you take a step, be pertinacious and never lose concentration.
Why doubt your capabilities?
You have a dream as a tool so why be a pessimist?
Skepticism is a foe to success so be an optimist,
As far as the Almighty God exists,
You will achieve every item on your success list.
Very aware that there is a fair share of fellows
Fan flames burning elan maims with bellows
Whom dare to pose not care about their woes
Laid bare rhymes snared wild meadows mows
Us yearning for poetic melody of mellow cellos
Despair that their attitude is almost bellicose
Foes nightmare lair where I do come to blows
Heir to pair Keats & Byron but no they chose
Rhymeless charmless fayre that's just prose
Heard when occurred then poetry blurred
Pedantic herd frantic semantic antic deferred
Each cranny & nook has a canny hook if stirred
Spurred absurd word flair whirred seeds sows
Glows with those lingo bingo bows it bestows
Grows rare nerd rows 4 hip hop bros & hoes
Pros purred knows highs & lows all about flows
Stuffing buffing nothing blows anything goes
Non stop trip hip hop drop or flip to ship of grime
Prime chime every time it's an on a dime rhyme
Fops chop chop Pop's top crop lets rip does climb
No crime saga like an aga..mime or lager and lime
Sublime he crows every single poet’s holistic pastime
Artistic don let the lexicon just mingle the paradigm
This linguistic shingle gives you a lovely wee tingle
Sod twee odd bods going ballistic poems must rhyme!
I still remember that old barn so red; a center point of my youth;
Pickle barrels in the cellar; cows on the ground floor and hay stored in the loft.
I rode the John Deere a thousand times in and out of her wide, always opened doors;
Plowing fields near and far, but with her redness never out of my distant sight.
She housed the cows we milked and the tools we used throughout the long, hard day;
And, she was our playground on those summer days when chores were done by noon.
I remember her beautiful, natural smell that our city cousins abhorred;
And, I knew every nook and cranny that I could hide in to get away from their whines.
We would swing on the rope out of the loft, landing on piles of freshly cut hay;
And, just lay quietly in the night with a cool summer breeze passing through her doors.
It was in this red haven that I birthed my first calf and learned how to set a broken leg;
And, it was high in the loft with my high school sweetheart that I first became a man.
The farm that housed that wondrous red barn is now a mall parking lot;
But, the memories of lessons learned within are forever blazoned upon my mind.
To the one I love
Just because...
And to those who love life
And those who love love!
Through every cranny, every crack
In every nook of every room
It seeks to fill the empty space
And lift the shadowed shade of gloom
So be it hastened by the heart
Or blessed by universal source
Without it, life would simply cease
So never doubt its mighty force
And you, my sweet, on every day
Give freely of your precious gift
And fill this bleak and barren void
To shatter darkness, sure and swift
Yes, it is light of which I scribe
Of which each crack and cranny holds
No matter where and in my heart
I feel the love that it enfolds
Wrapped in long white as if married to birth
In a plastic box, with wheels on the bottom,
There she lay, unaware of her worth
Unaware of the sheer amount of hats she’d wear topped with a pom-pom.
The taste of burger king and torn nails seeping from my lips.
Burger King? Is that seriously what I’m talking about?
First, you’ll care for princess mountaintops and intergalactic spaceships.
Fast food? On a much later date – when we first pass one on a roundabout.
You’re not my responsibly, not one bit.
Those two unfortunate buggers next to me are.
But I can say that I’d feel just slightly bad if you were to fall down a pit.
A fantastical situation but one in which I’d search for you far.
In every hole, crevice, nook, cranny, crack, in every bloody place I’d look.
Sorry for the twisted love but give me a second and I’ll read you a book.
In the hospital you lay, yes, peaceful as of yet.
Our mum, recovering (to say the least) and our dad – a bit of the same.
And this is only the first time we’ve met.
Just waiting on the nurse to send us back from where we came.
Terrified of cracking your neck, I cradled you in my arms so tense.
The nurse does her rounds and makes a pitstop at beautiful old you.
I wish I’d sat an earshot away – I would’ve if I had some sense.
She told my parents “to put a sock on it you two.”
What a way to end the visit.
Well that’s a lesson for you little sister,
With them two it’s never quite normal, is it?
Don’t worry I know it may seem like a disaster
but I promise crude jokes are worth more than Burger King
and if they ever do drive you up the wall well just give me a ring.
"Out damned spot" where nothing grows,
a vain man's curse in the midst of perfection;
the whole, nourished and pampered
yet this blemish - snarling imperfection,
taunting like a tormentor's tongue,
or YES! Perhaps perpetrated by
an envious neighbor -
a late night turf terrorist
pouring some lawn-be-gone
where overt obscenities might be
gleefully spewed in the morning.
While there, in the middle of the drive
where sneakers shuffle and tires tread,
a tuft of healthy grass sprouts
from a tiny cranny; never watered nor fed
yet its roots grow strong and deep,
denying my casual efforts
to end the brazen intrusion .
The puzzling irony of it all !
Was I out here to get the mail??