Long Darned Poems
Long Darned Poems. Below are the most popular long Darned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Darned poems by poem length and keyword.
Torn from my slumber in the early hours
by a Blackbird outside in a tree,
as it performed for us a solo dawn chorus
as loud as can possibly be.
Now fully awake, no way could I sleep
all because of that darned noisy pest,
so I stumbled about with one leg in my jeans
as I quietly tried to get dressed.
But I woke the missus, she looked at the clock
saying “ it's only three forty-six!”
which meant that last night when I checked all the clocks
my watch I'd forgotten to fix.
Next year when the Government say 'put your clocks back'
can somebody please have a word,
and ask them when they start reminding us all-
can they also go tell all the birds.
I want to be a poet to write those words which rhyme
But it seems I'm having trouble with tempo, tense and time
How do the poets do it rhyme words so undisputed
They neatly find the perfect word and exactly where to put it
They make it seem so simple words flow in easy verse
While my words go from good to bad and then they just get worse
Oh to have the poets flair for grasping words from out the air
But alas I stare at paper bare and pine for words which are not there
With ease the poets do it pen words so neatly dressed
While I sit here debating and getting more depressed
To them it's not too arduous to mete out rosy prose
While in my mind bewildering a musty cobweb grows
Ornately Poets do it scribe sentiment so clear
That lifts the heart and stirs the soul like music to the ear
As I scan their lines which meld and knit I envy those who conjured it
And when I read their words united tis my id which gets excited
I twitch and get elated when I find two words of whit
But I'll be darned if I can find another two which neatly fit
I thumb through my thesaurus till the moon is fully lit
But my brain is still in neutral and not a rhymes been writ
Each pair I work to sound enhance fails to bring the bards due dance
And the prose I opt for seems to lack the poet's gift of word romance
But I'll persist and see how it goes
And perhaps one day I'll write some prose
There was once an inflatable school
With a blown up boy as a fool
Then one day he came in
With a packet of pins
This ass was more like a mule
Around the playground he simply deflated
His bad antics left him elated
The headmaster had seen
This blown up boy being so mean
His anger was so underrated
To the headmasters room he was called
Knowing well he's in for a fall
You have let everybody down
Balloon boy your a clown
Disgusted, I'm darned well appalled
* This is based on the joke at the end of a programme called the *
~ Vicar of Dibley ~
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/humour-4.php
12/2/2020
Seeds starting to germinate
The scent always permeates
The effect begins to percolate
Having an impact on the murder rate
As life begins or terminates
Thought I heard a hiss
But was too caught up in bliss
After a poisonous kiss
Everything going amiss
Because I was too caught up in getting my fix
She was able to nix
Falling and sinking amidst the fish
Can't resist, is this it?
Not while I exist
Had to find a grip
The tables turned and flipped
Took a lot of risks
In order to get out of the abyss
Couldn't keep falling for the same old tricks
Do what I want with this heart of mine
Don't care if it's dark outside
Experienced comfort and the hardest times
I'd be darned to lie
That sober s***
Been struggling to get over it
Often a Doberman
And other times a Nobleman
Here's an honest statement
At times I overcompensated
Made things far too complicated
And always got intoxicated
Making myself an abomination
When I concentrated
I often dominated
Always felt obligated
And that this world was far too populated
I just thank God I made it
Nothing else needed to be contemplated
a thought strikes a match
nothing much, a little flame
moths alter their course
someone whispers, what if this—
the curtain catches the light
a balloon inflates
sky requires another sun
string loosens, goes slack
already counting the stars
on the backs of envelopes
morning finds the chairs
still facing yesterday's stage
confetti in shoes
someone refolds promises
along familiar creases
after all, a spade
fits superbly well in hand
soil under the nails
the gate can't bend or unhinge
rain dons handle with slippers
no trumpets today
the kettle attends to rain
a chipped cup, still warm
someone has darned the elbow
of the coat we nearly threw
How do you live in a rainbow world all of the time?
The woman had no answer, because she believed in faeries.
She was surrounded by the sound of pixie wings.
Dragonflies knew her name.
She stared at the man who had asked her.
Maybe it is easy because I believe in faeries she whispered.
He frowned at her naivety and turned away.
Two damselflies fluttered after him.
One landed gently on his shoulder.
Darned bee! He snarled.
His world was putrid greenish gray.
He was not about to believe in damselflies or faeries.
I wonder what happened to him? The monarch asked.
We need to uplift him, said the geraniums. They smiled broadly.
He stomped them into the ground, injuring their petals.
You can run
But there’s no hiding from yourself.
Done is done.
Can’t put your soul upon a shelf.
Put your heart inside a box
It just keeps breaking all the locks
And getting free. There’s no mystery…
You can cry.
It doesn’t matter what they say.
Don’t know why
But does it matter anyway?
As the walls come tumbling down
In slow motion, with no sound
It all looks so darned profound
In the movies.
You can fight.
Doesn’t guarantee a win.
Is it right
Or just an ordinary sin?
Forge your chain-mail link by link
And make certain you will sink
Into the sea. There no mystery…
We complain
Stifled by our every choice.
Yet it’s plain
We love the sound of our own voice.
All those noises in your head
All those voices that you dread
It’s just the script nobody read
In the movies…
There’s no digital effects
That’ll clean up every mess.
No director yelling, “Cut! Let’s try again.”
We must all do our own stunts.
And we can only do it once.
But we’re no actors. We’re just ordinary men…
So, look around.
You can see it everywhere.
It’s not profound
Though, more or less, we’re unaware.
It’s the land of make believe
Meant to trap and to deceive
The unwary and naïve
In the movies…
The red devil is leading the hag witch and her cat
Through a laughing jack-o-lantern field so flat.
The wind is howling, the owls are on the move.
Dracula is waiting, in the mood to truly groove.
The red devil is silent, which makes him scary.
Cat’s fur stands up, he is terrified of Sister Mary.
Mary keeps going with determination in her mind.
She needs to ask Dracula to stop being so darned kind.
Dracula gives her excuses which infuriate her so.
She flicks out her peacock wand which gives a mighty glow.
A cauldron appears, and she soon makes up a potion.
To give to Dracula. It is a change-your-mind-up lotion.
Dracula refuses to put the lotion on his skin.
Infuriating the hag, which is truly not a win.
Cat is terrified now not wanting to travel back.
She will take her rage out on somebody; he will probably get the rack.
The red devil tells the hag her time is up, she has to go.
Cat drags his feet in a sorry way, ridiculously slow.
Hag witch is in the lead, marching back across the cornfield bay.
Cat knows he is in for it; there is nothing he can say.
Dracula has followed them. He demands she give him Cat.
She is angry about it, but he takes her to the mat.
Cat becomes Dracula’s familiar, and is allowed to prowl at night.
This union makes him happy; they end up very tight.
Slate gray streets made even darker by cutting raindrops
Umbrellas popping up everywhere, people seeking shelter
But I stayed put, wanting to get drained with the rain,
then I hear this tinkling voice that says, “Don’t you just love it when it rains?!”
I look at her wearily and her eyes actually gleam with laughter
Oh geez, this lady was my total opposite. I was brooding, she was brimming.
I power-up my go away vibes, but she was like a darned magnet…
Was I the ferromagnetic one, or was she?
She gushed on the metaphor of rain in her life, and I didn’t feel like drowning.
Listening to her amidst the onslaught was so refreshing, making me thirstier…
There we were, two drenched souls, sitting on the pavement, chatting up a storm.
Of all her descriptions of rain, one in particular stood out for me…
Pearl drops strung on silver strands …
She said, “Rain for me would be silver strands streaking an otherwise somber sky…
pearl drops strung on silver strands, broken by the heavens to share with us.
See how precious it is?” Then she continued on with the metaphor for pearls…
Her words felt like windshield wipers to me, and I could see clearly now
By then, the rains had softened, and a lone pearl drop landed on her eyelashes
-that made me look closer at her eyes… her beautiful, wise, yet cloudy eyes…
I have never looked at rain the same way since then.
For Andrea's and Susan's Silver Strands contest
8/24/17
I don't care if you think of it as a curse
Before being in a hearse
What are you doing to help the universe
And Earth?
Daily and monthly
Seeing dummies
Shame on you for threatening countries
That's just ugly
Not even funny
Regardless of if it has to do with power and money
Do you really not care to know if we did or didn't evolve from monkeys?
Who do you think you are?
You better not be knowingly causing nature harm
Otherwise it will be the the cause for alarm
And held with high regard
Because I will then make sure you are darned
At whatever stakes
Are you trying to make it a better place?
Or is that never the case?