Long Crunched Poems
Long Crunched Poems. Below are the most popular long Crunched by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crunched poems by poem length and keyword.
When the darkness opened wide,
Little Miss Witch twitched her nose.
She bewitched a dress in a mundane stitch;
Halloween clothes from head to toe for trick or treat.
She walked down the street
To meet with the other sweet sounds of laughter.
Skittles, candy corn, and M&Ms
poured out of the sides of the rainbow
bedecked and merry.
One, two, three.
Poof!
Three kitties on their feet
Jumped on the roof.
Pitch black spike hats, gowns, and boots
They were holding brooms.
Two bad witches and a black goofy itchy cat hid.
Blood shot eyes blinked,
Turned in a bowl dark and grim.
Gooey cobwebs spiders climbed,
Skeletons danced with the fright beat,
Pumpkins ate their seeds and rich meat,
Growled satisfied.
“Taste my sweets, your sweet treats”,
The wind tides had said.
Raven cawed, a conceited warlock in town.
Owls hooted and werewolves howled,
Red luminous eyes glared in the night.
Blood poured out of the trees through the countryside.
A mouse hole,
Three cats went inside,
Three brooms disappeared.
Little Miss Witch and two best friends switched;
Mundane they were no longer.
Boo!
A blood-moon in a candy starless night,
Shadows danced;
Leaves crunched beneath skeletal tress
Before the moon was swallowed up by the sun.
Happy Halloween!
10/11/2021
Children Story
We love to paint, my muse and I.
It does not matter what – walls, doors, furniture, bricks.
Canvas painting is especially satisfying.
Drawing weird stuff is relaxing and pleasant, but here is where it gets freaky fun.
Adding the colors. We LOVE adding color, the brighter and bolder the better.
Our happy, cheerful color play puts us over the edge of intense happiness.
Yesterday I thought I was painting a blonde girl, I had blonde in my head for hours.
Pouf! I reached for the orange, and she ended up becoming a vibrant redhead, and it felt perfect.
I was as surprised as the painting; it is always a jolt of joy and expectation when I add the color.
As I throw paints together on a canvas, I watch an amazing unfolding of unbridled creativity.
I am instantly and thoroughly delighted and honored by my artistic muse’s artistic art play.
She throws odd things like gears, sawdust, pebbles, crunched up leaves, and glitter onto my canvases.
Oftentimes items get thrown onto the canvas and glued before I realize what she is doing.
An artist friend of mine once asked me, “Is that sawdust on the pirate ship?”
I admitted that it was.
How did that happen? He asked, genuinely surprised.
Easy, I told him. We were
Walking through the garage, and we saw it,
Grabbed a jar, collected it, and later glued it onto the
Canvas when we needed that color.
Samantha, my whacky, zany muse, is one sassy and confident artist.
I readily follow her lead.
~*~*~
'Twas the night before Christmas when Mom said,
to Dad- go get a tree for us better than last year;
remember how by Christmas morning it was dead,
she shouted instructions as Dad put the car in gear.
He looked at me with a sigh- oh don't you worry,
we will buy the best and biggest tree on the lot;
and will search their complete tree lot inventory,
we will find the very best Xmas tree ever bought.
Well, we did find the best and biggest tree ever,
on the drive home- off the roof it started to slip;
and I said to Dad, it's great but just a bit big however,
deck the halls, he sang, it just needs a little snip.
He turned it this way and that but it did not fit,
in the front door- don't worry he said and got a saw;
I was really, really doubtful I had to admit,
he was hacking at the branches as I watched in awe.
Well, somehow we finally got the tree in the living room,
but it was too tall and the top was crunched on the ceiling;
at this point, I was filled with a great gloom and doom,
when Dad sawed the top off- I had a real sinking feeling.
But he stood back looking and feeling pretty darn proud,
when Mom came into the room- and screamed;
this tree is the worst yet, she was yelling really loud,
so, I ran out of the room 'cause she was so steamed.
Where am I suppose to put my Christmas angel ? Dad,
(the top was flat and there were branches gone leaving gaps);
she stood there sort of bewildered and boy was she mad,
and not just that the tree looked awful- it began to collapse.
(Dad, tied it to the wall- so it would not fall)
We decorated the tree anyways but by Christmas morning;
not a thistle was left- just a bare tree with decorations adorning.
____________________________
November 27, 2019
Poetry/Rhyme/Oh, Christmas Tree
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1202-170-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest The Night Before 2
sponsor, Joseph May
Third Place
In the amber glow of a waning sun,
I found myself alone, my heart undone,
For the leaves that crunched beneath my feet,
Were whispers of our summer's sweet repeat.
I walked through the leaves,
Crisp air in my lungs,
The sun painted gold,
Just like our summer fun.
We danced on the porch,
With your favorite song,
Now the silence lingers,
Feels like you’ve been gone too long.
Oh, September without you,
Feels like autumn's bittersweet,
The winds whisper your name,
In every rustled leaf.
I chase those fading memories,
Like the leaves that drift away,
Oh, September without you,
Is a lonely place to stay.
The highway hummed a solemn tune,
Past the pumpkin patch, beneath the moon,
We carved faces with laughter to spare,
Now I drive alone, through the cool, crisp air.
I can still taste your smile,
Like warm cider in the fall,
But now it’s just echoes,
Beneath these empty walls.
Oh, September without you,
Feels like autumn's bittersweet,
The winds whisper your name,
In every rustled leaf.
I chase those fading memories,
Like the leaves that drift away,
Oh, September without you,
Is a lonely place to stay.
The stars, they hide behind the chill,
My reaching hand is still,
For in this vast, celestial dome,
I find myself alone.
Every corner’s a shadow,
Of what we used to be,
This heart’s a little heavier,
Since you set it free.
Oh, September without you,
Feels like autumn's bittersweet,
The winds whisper your name,
In every rustled leaf.
I chase those fading memories,
Like the leaves that drift away,
Oh, September without you,
Is a lonely place to stay.
So, I’ll gather these moments,
And hold them close to me,
But each one feels colder,
In this fall’s memory.
Oh, September without you,
Is a heart in disarray,
Just a season of longing,
As the colors fade away.
In the quiet, I find my solace,
In the rustle of leaves, your soft embrace,
For though you're gone, you're never truly far,
In every whispered breeze, you are the star.
Oh, September without you,
Is a path I walk each day,
But in my heart, you'll always be,
The warmth that chases winter's gray.
And thus began their heroic journey through the fantastical labyrinth of the escape room, where every twist and turn carried the promise of freedom, laughter, and the unforeseen—the perfect remedy for chaos and an unexpected road trip back to normalcy. After all, in a place where even a bunny could be a hero, and a Man is a Woman, anything was possible. Even a Media run Presidential Campaign supported by Big Tech, Google and the FBI !
As Penney and Gus entered the vibrant escape room, the door clicked shut behind them, "Penney parted from the impending loom, weaving her curiosity in a gape driven plume; punctuating the chaotic symphony of the mall with a sense of immediate sanctuary. The room was a kaleidoscope of interesting colors, smells—walls adorned with whimsical murals of enchanted forests, floating bubbles, and scattered stars. Even some Left Wing styled fecal graffiti, as if plastered from the hand to Trump sign out of TDS. It felt like stepping into another world, far removed from the madness outside. A home away from home !
“Okay, what’s the first clue?” Gus asked, glancing around at the eclectic decorations, which ranged from giant inflatable mushrooms to shimmering disco balls. They needed to think fast, and the first challenge awaited like a Mother given the news that the police would be escorting her child home after a bonus round of shoplifting at Castle Megastore had landed her in the "Stoney Loaf".
“Over there!” Penney exclaimed, pointing to a large, comically oversized egg perched precariously atop a pedestal. “There’s bound to be something inside!”
They approached cautiously, the soft thump of their footsteps muffled by the plush carpet that crunched as they stroke on, I mean strode on, apparently-designed to match the room's carnival theme or was it Carnivaal, Carnibaal? No matter, with a gentle push, Gus nudged the egg, and it wobbled dangerously before them. A creaky voice echoed from within, making them jump.
“Beware the wrath of the bouncing bunny, and tell Nanceycat to invest in BlackRock!”, it croaked, before the egg split open, revealing a tangle of colorful ribbons and a single, glittering key.
“Perfect!” Penney cheered, plucking the key from the chaos. “Let’s see what it unlocks.” She scanned the walls for a keyhole, eyeing an intricate door covered in glowing glyphs.
I went for a walk through the woods, like I do each Fall;
for it's a sensual treat at this time of year.
And I came across a grove of ancient oak trees,
shedding amber, yellow, and golden leaves;
gilding the ground, like scattered nuggets of gold.
The air smelt of Autumn, an earthy-sweet musk;
cool, crisp, and invigorating.
A chattering chipmunk scolded me incessantly:
as I neared a knurled stump, it was guarding;
loudly chastising me for invading its space.
The ground crunched and crackled under my feet,
as I walked on a bedding of filigreed leaves;
resembling a golden fleece.
As brisk breezes rippled through swaying treetops:
their bare branches rattled like skeleton bones.
Indulging my inner child, I fashioned an Autumn Angel;
spreading and swiping my arms and legs,
I sculpted an Angel out of leaves instead of snow.
And I lay there awhile smiling, soaking in Nature's magnificence;
immersed in the grandeur and beauty of Fall.
10/26/12
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Deep into the world of mystery I find my heart buried
Until from tear-filled eyes my mind pours deep water
A sprinkled light so distant somehow comes to view,
But I am stuck in miserable muddle and I cannot reach
Shadows of regret and doubt create blockades around me
Cutting me clear off from the world and its inhabitants
As the hourglass pours its sand into my glistening eye
Sending me pleasant yet cruel dreams of the impossible
I see in a mind’s eye the fresh green grasslands in breeze
I smell roses and hollyhocks mixed with light, delicate rain
My spinning head is soothed in make-believe birdsong,
Though in reality I am profoundly crunched in filth
I gaze at laurels and lilies lapping in cool, sifting ponds
Beckoning my yearning soul
But there is no way to you!
If only I had been born in another life,
Yet even then I would always yearn for something more
I bask in hope—only in vain
For the hour glass smothers me in its salty truth
Burying my mind away from the faintest light
Shadows of regret will always be my obstacle
As the hour glass blinds all leakage of hope
-inspired by the song “Sehnsucht" or “Longing"
Initially, Lady adopted just the gray One for love and fun.
A pal gifted another, a kitten who needed a Mother.
Though spayed, One let Two nurse and her milk did disburse,
said a Vet whose face crunched, bemused and confused.
For One and Two days passed with Lady’s love steadfast.
Cat Three showed in winter’s cold, wanting warmth’s hold.
At first, Three was snubbed by grown One and growing Two.
Eventually their curiosity was peaked by things Three did do,
strange things Cat One and Cat Two could not reason thru.
Three stole garments from the basket of Lady’s dirty clothes,
dragged them into corner places that she carefully chose,
and then she, Cat Three, exposed all to odd licking throes.
Appalled, One and Two would withdraw and prissily pose,
until pride turned trite when Lady raced a laser, red light.
Four showed one Spring day, when Lady saw a gray tail sway
belonging to a striped, cat-baby who had no home or safety.
Lady immediately, eagerly, telephoned her brother, Clark,
and asked if Four would officially make her a Crazy Cat Lady.
He spoke, but she could not quite hear the words from Clark,
not over his ten dogs harmonizing a united, piercing bark.
I was so inexperienced, gullible, and childish.
Ah youth's folly, so brave and yet wildish.
So witless and terribly naive
Sometimes I feel I can’t believe.
We smelt the fragrant whiff of pine needles,
crunched crispy as we sang the songs of the Beatles,
as we trekked alone up the hill
that towered majestically with thrill,
a few miles from our hometown.
The fragrance of Fall, followed by leaves brown.
Love crept in losing all our senses,
Little serious thoughts of consequences.
We were too young, actions should not be
But a fool who could not foresee
the imminent prospective on the horizon
that stretched so far, far away as the sun was risin`.
I did not care, who did in those days?
A child was born, and we were in a haze,
A baby that needed money nowhere to be found.
We toiled, we worried, and each debtor a hound.
Help was scarce and youth a thing of the past,
My wife fell sick, and death came too fast.
I cried as I lost my dear wife but will not forget
The mists of the hill of our first love where we met.
Today I trek that same hill behind our town
remembering our lost youth though the grass was brown.
I almost stumble on the dewy grass of dawn,
I feel strong arms helping me on.
My love, my little Angelina, she saved me from a blow,
the daughter that was born so many years ago.
1 December 2021
''Y'' Contest
Youth
Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Me pay cheque is wounded, they gave it the axe
And these vampire politicians have drained 20% tax
Credit cards are all crunched to the max
Bailiffs keep knocking, won’t cut me some slack
Dam credit crunch has hit me hard
We scraping dad’s toes to use as lard
Granddad’s pluckin and a pickin’ the banjo with his teeth
Humming “I’m sure there’s some chicken in between these strings or underneath
To travel the bus is £1.20; it used to be a pound
There no such thing as free sex around
I ask the misses give me some; even she bleeds me pocket like a bloodhound
What’s wrong with the world it’s turning into a credit crunch breeding ground?
I whispering don’t make waves and they water skiing trying to make me drown
Can’t smoke
Can’t poke
This is a joke
I’m sure all of this of just a hoax
Well I have to go it time to munch
We having mama’s toe nails for lunch