Long Curious Poems
Long Curious Poems. Below are the most popular long Curious by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Curious poems by poem length and keyword.
meet my muse Trixie.
I want to draw.
she wants to play in the Thesaurus.
Trixie is a freebooter, marauder, pirate, she plans to win.
I sketch a monkey, elephant and acrobat.
I am in circus mode.
Trixie slams her green eyes over the big book.
she is persnickety, determined, and forceful.
fat blue Thesaurus is a harpy; she flips open.
I stare at these words - deaden, anesthetized, stupefy.
write them down! Trixie demands.
she is more trouble than a gewgaw, trinket or knickknack.
I avert my eyes, not wanting to play with words
now drawing a circus tent, and a popcorn box.
red and white striped popcorn box has arms and legs.
he sticks out his tongue in maniacal cartoon laughter.
Trixie flips some pages of this dreaded book.
gleaming, sparkling, glistening stand out.
magnify, enlarge and amplify bite me on the left arm.
I am not writing right now! I tell her.
she sticks out her tongue.
eager to work on a magnum opus, creative masterpiece.
I can hardly work on the giraffe.
curious I am to read words where she is pointing
lionize, glorify, elevate
vanish, disappear, dissolve
I begin drawing a lion, trying to break my muse's spell.
** Watching Time **
From all analog to any
Digitally shown markings
Of humanity’s invented
Way to watch over Light
— passing or coming —
Time…
In less than a breath,
So, so many ways our anxious
Noting of hours may be halted:
By accidents or by
The Will of Heaven!
Remember ever seelng those once
“Must-be-shown” to the garden’s
visitors? — Those unique,
Stone, short, column-standing
Sundials, marking the hours
With shadow and sunbeams
Since 1500 B.C.E., which have
Long been overgrown — all
Caught up in ever-ongoing
Miles of shade-overwhelmed, leaf-
Overhanging trees, and, too,
From climate affected heat
And rain…The gray, raining
Clouds so thick and towering
On high with the rising
Moisture of all humanity’s
Tears.
Then there will always be
The remaining, need-to-know
Few, who for medical or
Technical or religious
Or any other practical or
Curious reson, will try to
Fix their Heaven-warned
Clocks, and to finally give up
…Calculating to guess-estimate
By motions of the sun, the
Moon or the constellions; by
The ebb and flow of tides
Until, finally, in the far
Places, when necessary, to
Pen lines on paper, or
Like (we may suppose) our
Earliest ancestors, resort to
Notching strokes on sticks: to
Keep track of all the transient
Things that can’t be fixed, or
Hidden…Finally, quitting numbers
To throw it all off to Magic
With all the other unexplained
Wonders there aren’t any ideas
For, and at last figure up all
Those anxious guesses about the
Hour of the End-of-Time by the
Repeticious and exhausting
Counting of fingers and toes.
———————————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 6/8-7/10/2023
It was approved by the Session and duly recorded by the Clerk
That the youth would perform the Nativity Play at the Presbyterian Kirk.
'Twas further resolved that Sister Smythe, who had a proclivity
For curious creativity, would again manage this annual activity!
Venerable Sister Smythe had staged the event since time immemorial,
But, alas, could be quite testy and at times rather dictatorial!
Generations of kids had acted in this solemn yearly affair.
Now their kids suffered beneath her stern, withering glare!
Stage-struck moms maneuvered above and around each other,
Boosting their little darling for the role of The Holy Mother!
Sister Smythe made her selection after a grilling examination.
Alas, the little lass forgot her lines to Sister Smythe's consternation!
The lad playing Joseph was found asleep and missed his cue.
Two of the Wise Men tripped and sprawled, spoiling their debut!
Kids dressed as sheep sounded like braying mules from sounds they did emit.
This caused the harried Sister Smythe another thundering snit!
Poor Sister Smythe lay abed a couple of weeks to recover,
As solicitous Session members around her did pray and hover.
Despite the vexations, she'll rule again next year - she'll survive,
To shepherd other kids to make the Christmas Story come alive!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
the real bigfoot is a story not often told
I heard it from my gramps when he was really old
he showed me a picture I thought was photo-shopped
he doesn’t even have a computer said my Uncle Slopped
I studied the photo, staring at the beast’s enormous size
He had a classic stance, there was fire in the bigfoot’s eyes
I cannot imagine seeing this creature and living to tell the tale.
I heard they tried to collect him and put him in the county jail
What did he do? I asked, curious as I stared at Grandpa Lee
He was too big! Said Grandpa, that was enough you see.
Back in the day, being too big was enough to put you in the clink?
Grandma nodded as she washed out her dentures in the sink.
Sunglasses hide the truth behind your eyes
Sombrero tilted on tomorrows styled doll
Lip stick red rouge alarms the curious
Customers curse your beauty as they pass
From every angle shoppers lurk in isles
California earthquakes shake the store apart
People run in fear as you stay frozen there
From the storage room new clothes emerge
Clerks fly to fondle you with silken skirts
Fabrics to make you real as life and just as ready
On the show room in living colors black
Scarves served up by adoring clumsy staff
Layers of lovely colored patterns stream on you
Blouses green, a pink negligee for Spring
My perfect figurine
Stay fixed there while I study you my love
Every curve, don't speak a word or move too much
That which defines you in perfection on the stool
My plastic queen I love your lingerie so dainty soft
But not as much as you for being pretty
Pretending to be alive as earthquakes rise
A figurine, a doll, a figment of my imagination
Mannequin
There’s nothing better than a warm winter fire
Burning in the hearth at home,
With a cup of coffee and a book to read
Stirring one’s mind to roam.
To a realm of virtual reality
Where ideas take to flight,
Between a few pages lost in the ages
While reading by firelight.
It may be a new novel of love and romance,
Mired in political intrigue,
Or maybe a mystery, history or poetry
Like the tale of “Annabell Lee.”
Perhaps science, astronomy or psychology
Will suit some other tastes,
For the curious mind those kinds will find
Satisfaction made, in haste.
There are no limits to winter’s charm
When it comes to warming hearts,
With an open mind and a moment in time
We all can make new starts.
© Terrell Martin, 01/09/2025
Beaverish, feverish
hot Mrs. Cleaver wished
that her affair had not
given her clap.
Fast Eddie Haskell, her
boy-toy, that rascal, his
transmissibility
claims were all crap.
“Tickle me, pickle me,
say it’s not true, for if
you have the clap then I
must have it too!”
Doctors prescribed her some
anti-microbials,
Ward soon found out that she
had been untrue.
Beaver was curious,
Ward was so furious,
fake news of Eddie’s lewd
films made him snap.
“June, you’re so sensible,
incomprehensible,
that you could fall for that
con-artist’s crap!”
Friskiness, riskiness,
ratings were rising, but
not so surprising they
cancelled the show.
Frightened by content too
radiological,
sponsors said “Beaver” was
not apropos.
Across the wires, a spark ignites,
Words dance and weave, through digital nights.
We laugh, we share, a bond takes hold,
But where it leads, a story untold.
I see your wit, your passions shine,
A connection forming, a curious sign.
But before we delve, in deeper streams,
Let's clear the path, set honest beams.
Are these words a bridge, to friendship's shore?
Or whispers hinting, at something more?
No need for pressure, no need to rush,
Just open hearts, a gentle hush.
Tell me your hopes, for this connection's sake,
Is it laughter shared, for friendship's sake?
Or does a flicker, of something else reside?
Honesty's compass, a path to guide.
With open minds, our course we'll set,
Respecting boundaries, without regret.
This virtual space, a world to explore,
Together we'll navigate, to what lies in store.
In the library - for contest
Books are the ever- burning lamps
Of knowledge and wisdom....
It 's a well-established truth and I
also nod in full agreement...
But let me say this, I am not a nerd
And I am not a book-worm....
Nor do I have a flair for reading much
and all my friends know this too well....
But in these few days what surprised
them was my frequent library visits
My tryst with our town library..
was on a rising note day- by -day
My friends got curious and dubious!
Free-times or weekends my schedule
had changed,
My footsteps take me to the library road ....
All roads for me led to library not Rome!
Friends were not on my agenda as before...
Intolerable, all in a group they did approach
Asked me the reason for my library craze...
I shrugged, I smiled,I winked,
I blushed but didn't disclose....
My visits to library stay continued...
One fine morning greatly dressed I,
left my home as my perfume lingered
My destination, I need not say now
I know you readers have guessed it right!
My steps moved in well-paced rhythm
Hilarious spirits , morning pleasant!
Sun smiled at me and flowers wished!
Into the library i did step in...
And as his glimpse my sight caught
I blushed, I waved, smile creeping in
Bright face, so elegant , so handsome
Waved back and sent me a flying kiss
A research scholar and my new love!
Day in and day out he enjoys with books...
"The origin of species" by Charles Darwin
Rene Descartes and his philosophy of,
Cogito ergo sum !
My experiments with truth by Mahatma Gandhi!
Hereditary principles by Gregor Mendel..
Sociological thoughts of Max Weber
These are a few that I recollect..
Oh my dear soup friends...now that you all know
Please maintain silence.... is the board I'll point at!
My other friends are still curious....
I leave it to them to find on their own!!
My love has filled in me a new passion
my reading habit is slowly improving!
I sat with him last week with Pygmalion
Classic of versatile George Bernard Shaw
How hours passed like minutes, I never know!
I Worship library now as a repository
of knowledge of varied genre!
In reading and applying what we read
lies our real wisdom!
for contest: In the library
sponsorer-Isaiah Zerbst
by: Anulaxmi Nayak
on:13th August 2015
Some would say,
although not LaoTse,
and maybe not the Lakotae,
certainly not Animae,
or my Aunty Mae
on Mary Jae,
Egos just wanna fight or flee
or something strangely Other
than with or against
ego-viral identity.
But Taoists
healthy-Yang with wealthy-Yin display,
In-between fight and flee
lies our more ambiguously WinWin transubstantiating Way,
already there,
for those who Left with Right see
what we could be
with actually quite a bit more integrity.
Synergy between opposing Elite/NonElite emotions
need not necessarily end in quick-sand
UnHoly Spirited chaos
of alien ambiguous Other,
mere positive or negative or not-not double-boundup intentions
hiding on Other side
of ego fragmentation--
Integrity remains Earth's original eco-interdependent
RightMind intuition
of and for creative dipolar apposition
between active fight and passive flee
non-abusive
non-neglectful
non ego-narcissistic
non anthro-hubris
WinWin RealTalk communication,
too non-violently curious to fight,
too non-aggressively courageous to flee.
Sometimes,
between fight and flee
and you
and me,
I prefer to listen to divinely majestic mountains
and whisper through Earth's HolySpirited valleys
promising to return
to our originally democratic
blue-green surfing sea.