Long Critic Poems
Long Critic Poems. Below are the most popular long Critic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Critic poems by poem length and keyword.
I am pretty certain
What you will find
With a sneaky cheeky peek
Behind the velvet curtain
See..one of a kind
Stand Up hierachy
For very few shekels
Sarky then snarky malarkey
Sworn scorn of merry heckles
But shorn of those hackles
Torn free from those shackles
The dawn of hee-hee cackles
If they're a chronic
Stand Up Comic
No one applauds
Dreads hordes of frauds
Who tread ironic boards
A skit to be a hit
Must pit your wit
Acerbic gambit
Caustic flit
Twit or git
Design a fine punchline
Yep..the funny bit
Scores on the doors
Gaping jaws and guffaws
Means more encores
If they don't shirk
Perk of their work
Can air a quirk
Share & make them smirk
With flair or devil maycare
The crowd revel...go beserk
Seriously sardonic
Scheming bitter of gin
Deliriously laconic
Big beaming grin
Gleaming glitter of tonic
Tears now are streaming
Girth of the mirth
Cheers from their peers
Just the ticket for the critic
What's it worth?
Priceless..to see an iconic
Yet down to earth
Stand Up Comic
On their home turf
Always pick it..
One Sunday morning, I went home to visit mom and dad.
My brother was also there, and I showed them what I had.
The first thing I said to father as soon as I saw him,
was that I had four free tickets to the art museum.
His first verbal reaction was the old thing “I don’t know.”
He then said, “Ah, what the hell! Alright, I think I will go.”
Getting the old man in the place proved to be a tough sale.
The one thing he seemed interested in was a female.
This young attractive blonde woman was someone father eyed.
We discovered shortly that this cute thing was our tour guide.
The old man showed displeasure after passing through the door.
He displayed constant disapproval while he walked the floor.
Dad would make deprecating comments of all he observed.
Witnessing this, the tour guide seemed to be quite perturbed.
As everyone was led down the abstract art corridor,
my dear dad spewed out obnoxious comments a little more.
He made remarks about a work by Pablo Picasso.
This resulted in an embarrassing scenario.
He then emitted some words that sounded quite imprudent:
“Might this be a painting rendered by a preschool student?”
While standing and observing at a Jackson Pollock work
My old man displayed another example of a quirk.
He was heard to ask with loud interrogative candor:
“Is this from an accident at a Sherwin-Williams store? “
His next words transpired into negative vicissitudes:
“Tell me, where do you display all of your paintings of nudes?
The tour guide appeared to have had enough of my old man.
After all, she took more than the average person can.
Immediately following my father’s last retort,
the tour guide announced she would cut the exhibition short.
She told me, “Please take him out of here as soon as you can!
I really feel sorry for you if he is your old man!
If you ever want to avoid some abasement and shame,
any Sunday afternoon, take him to see a ballgame.”
…DREAM NOT FOR SALE…
Prior to the naked realization
I saw it, heard it, felt it, touched it…
I said to myself that I have made it
Yes! It was more than an actualization
It was all a self-made convinced realization
So perfect was everything, not at all fiction
This dream is not for sale
I swear not to loose it.
What a perfect potential life in motion!
So narrow it all seems, got to pick the better option
Time to live my entire life free from all disturbing emotions
Everything needed for everything is ready, sure to make it through
This self-amazing revealed prophecy seems all nothing less but true
Every critic, sadist… in my life, I made ahead plans to make them a throw
How possible is it for me to sell this dream?
Its sworn, not even a bit of it will be lost.
…Lordvip…
I am who I am
Were you to ask where I’m from my past my tale my next of kin
the answer lies in who tells my narrative my twist what kind of spin
My autobiography is quickly shown in who I am will be in time
past present future blend in context and contingency overt and sublime
No doubt the product of genes and socialisation is rather pertinent
thus mixing and mingling draws frameworks but is also quite reticent
German ancestry Lower Saxon and East Prussian born after the War
struggling with Genocide Holocaust trans-generational down to my core
Grew up in Hamburg somewhat lonely understood by not many but few
too young in my school year a class clown a rebel a critic because I knew
Teachers could not reject or downgrade me since I got full marks in exams
so I carved out my niche opposed authority of Messieurs and Mesdames
A late child of the Student Revolution an exchange to California ensued
where hot love struck me like balm on my wounds with Gigi from Peru
After graduation I rejected being supported by my father and joined the Army
to gain independence yet the method to gain freedom now seems very barmy
Could not leave the Forces despite pretty vigorous conscientious objection
did my best to help others as a medical doctor in humanistic inception
My duties brought me to Wales by the Irish Sea with five children and marriage
country medic and farm house guiding my kids and then nuptial miscarriage
Depression struck no light at the end of the tunnel just darkness and void
too much drink downcast in my mental wheel chair and almost destroyed
Went to rehab in South Africa for treatment where God-incidence came
where I met my wife best friend lover soulmate who had suffered the same
Now I sit in the sun in South Africa stopped medicine write story and poem
reinvent my life some inner child stuff self-actualisation and certainly growing
New awareness novel perspectives pacifism philosophy and many questions
but the knowledge that kindness love and compassion are more than suggestions
My most intimate companion apart from my gorgeous wife is depression
both showed me my path journey and meaning my own life’s repossession
So few words about where I come from who I am will become and will be
so if you wish to explore more of my roots and my future please read my poetry
“Keep yourselves in the love of God, looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life." (Jude 1:21 of the King James Bible)
Lovers’ wedding midst virtual upheaval!!!
Confirmed fake news --- yet verily viral
surpassing its rival, truth that’s vital
though surely dismissed as vainly trivial
rumor is still sought for its grand arrival…
Thank God for love-propelled spiritual revival
through Scriptures’ assertion yon earthly survival.
Love-sick toward marital directive!!!
Great news of impact--- negative
from fatal infection, not positive
midst pink of health, surely affirmative
vanquishing fears, terribly obstructive…
Praise God; His compassionate grace is effective
Combatting sin-virus, grievously destructive.
Love’s bliss smites hatred-pain that’s traumatic!!!
Good news… awesome, but defied by skeptic
“Respect our perspective...” says a critic
Smiley greetings offend pessimistic
Oh, thumbs up signs cheer the optimistic…
Thank God for His love-poured blessings so fantastic
faith-claimed by every dogmatic or pragmatic.
Love life’s firmness starts from crush altitude!!!
Trending news lacking factual fortitude
Soon are media jokes midst fine rectitude
While miracle stories of gratitude
Stay flickering in silent solitude…
Praise God for His boundless mercy’s infinitude
Timeless for sharing love-care’s boundless magnitude.
(My attempt of Grook-series with five lines per stanza and two-line commentaries in bold.)
March 1, 2022
2nd place, "G - Give me a new poem- any form" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 3/25/2022.
Abeyance
Raging
against the machine
Dying
in the light
Counting
the hours till darkness
Waiting
— for delight
(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
Storm Clouds
I wanted to speak my mind
until I changed it
I wanted to write a book
without the critic
I wanted to fall in love
until I lost her
I wanted wealth and fame
— without the thunder
(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
Cosmic Shelf
A Shooting Star
In A Mason Jar
Preserved And Waiting
So Near — So Far
(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
The Weight
Some carry the burden
early
Some carry the burden
late
Some carry the burden
deep inside
Some carry the burden
— of fate
(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
Circuit Bard
Neurons
are mindful
And fire
as healers
Defying
the symptoms
Igniting
— the cure
(Dreamsleep: July, 2024
No Explanation! (I)
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Please don't ask me how deeply it hurt!
Her sun shone so bright, even the shadows were burning!
No Explanation! (II)
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Please don't ask me how it happened!
She didn't bind me, nor did I free myself.
Alone
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Why are you sad that she goes on alone, Faraz?
After all, you said yourself that she was unique!
Separation
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Faraz, if it were easy to be apart,
would Angels have to separate body from soul?
Time
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
What if my face has more wrinkles than yours?
I am merely well-worn by Time!
Ahmad Faraz [1931-2008], born Syed Ahmad Shah, was a Pakistani poet generally considered to be one of the greatest modern Urdu poets. Faraz was a poet accessible to ordinary readers due to his “fine but simple style of writing.” Ethnically a Hindkowan, he studied Persian and Urdu at Edwards College, then at Peshawar University, where he became a lecturer after receiving his Masters. During his time in college, Faiz Ahmad Faiz and Ali Sardar Jafri impressed him and became influences on his own work. Faraz was born in Kohat, Pakistan to Syed Muhammad Shah Barq. In an interview he recalled how his father once bought clothes for him and his brother on Eid. He didn't like the clothes meant for him, preferring the ones given to his elder brother. This lead him to write his first couplet:
Laye hain sab ke liye kapre sale se (He brought clothes for everybody from the sale)
Laye hain hamare liye kambal jail se (For me he brought a blanket from jail)
Faraz was an outspoken critic of Pakistan’s military dictatorship, saying, “My conscience will not forgive me if I remain a silent spectator of the sad happenings around us. The least I can do is to let the dictatorship know where it stands in the eyes of the concerned citizens whose fundamental rights have been usurped. I ... refuse to associate myself in any way with the regime ..."
Keywords/Tags: Ahmad Faraz, Pakistani, Urdu, Persian, translation, couplets, love, sun, sad, unique, separation, angels, body, soul, mrburdu
Her woes weren't on her life in siege
But the forerunner of fate's besiege
Her guts sensed an unknown chill
As faceless men stalked her in dark.
Speaking truth, half of men turn foes
Other half silent in fright of a regime,
A force that divide men by their faith
To rule forever with evil staff of hate.
She spoke of castes that suppressed
She spoke against blind belief of mass
She spoke of slavery from blind Faith
She spoke against the power corrupt.
She wrote of suffering brought by men
Her strength in free thinkers fast grew
Nightmare of a regime if people think
Evil designs spread in the market of hate.
Mom for many, courageous and clam
Never wavered before truth and facts
Spoke with clear concepts and concern
She knew her enemies, but went on.
She wanted this world a better place
She yearned men to equally prosper
She wanted poor free their shackles
Of slavery of mind of conniving men.
They schemed a plan for her exit
Men with guns were sent stalking
Shots were fired on a fragile frame
She fell dead before her own house
They cheered her death for a fees
They started build narratives in hate
The powerful struck a name in a list
A list of people soon going to die.
(Gauri Lankesh (1962 – 2017) was an Indian journalist-turned-activist from Bangalore, Karnataka. She was shot to death by assailants outside her home on 5 September 2017. At the time of her death, Gauri was known for being a critic of right-wing Hindu extremism.....Wikipedia )
Each of us = our own worst enemy
Hyperbole escorted ushered down aisle,
no critic within google x bajillion mile
(give or take a million) approximates
limitless potential regarding self said
epithet vile expletive spewing wicked
vituperation, vilification, vexation,
vandalization, undervaluation, uglification,
transmogrification, terrorization, suffocation,
stultification, strangulation, recrimination...
custom made swiftly tailored harried style
unbounded poetic license curtly vile
distilling, kickstarting, whipping...
hewed, patented, trademarked... versatile
methodologies, modalities to compile
masochistic punishment exhibiting agile
proactive innovations linkedin to avast
amalgamation, where synonyms connote
inflicting physical/ verbal self harm while
alone within emotional wilderness I'll
venture to add non active means to torture
including versus being passively servile,
and case in point with yours truly exile
isolate, entombed, locked, sequestered...
in bedroom of boyhood cherished domicile,
no matter whether violent or tame recourse
good n plenti abominations populate fertile
two clenched fist sized gray matter awash
where rage against our thwarted ambitions
dreams, goals, joys, motives, most pregnant trial
birthing most brutish, horrific, nasty... nemesis.
Please excuse this wurst wordy wayward bard
cuz here cometh the tricked out guard
(oh my...dog he attired just like me)
as everyone else within this isolationist ward.
I just happened to grow up this way…it’s not something I was taught…
but when it comes to my food preferences…epicurean I am not.
Some people like to separate their food…they think that’s the way it taste great…
I approach this from a different angle…I mix everything on my plate.
I don’t know how to explain it but to me a meal isn’t splendid
until all the food groups set before me have come together and been blended.
I have a friend, he is a food critic, who thinks most meals I disgrace…
I only know when I mix everything together…I love the way it tastes.
I love the way the colors blend but what I truly savor
is how, with every bite, I get a different blended flavor.
Deborah says it’s like feeding a dog but I am not subdued
I mean…show me any dog out there who doesn’t love their food!
Again I can’t explain it but to me it’s easily comprehended
and I make no apologies for loving food that’s all been blended…
I don’t expect everyone in the world to eat their food this way
(that would be nothing short of rude)
but I do think it would be wonderful if everyone in the world
blended together…as easily as my food?