Long Derring Poems

Long Derring Poems. Below are the most popular long Derring by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Derring poems by poem length and keyword.


Why are there so many Billionaires any way

Endearing Ms Eilish not willy nilly a silly Billie got her wish despite the stares 


Crys of why guys are there any let alone so many glutton button billionaires?


Not adhering to age old sage adage share if you've enough stuff to spare


Uncouth domineering untruths sold smearing sleuths as society tears


Sneering about profiteering mining shining spiting climate crisis scares


Cheering racketeering careering all about that flocks stocks & shares


Leering snares creatives gold left bereft fearing they're not their flair heirs


Persevering with cold jeering at hearing protests that then fold no one cares


Scold civic critics nearing the facts spearing by acts.. pacts & unfair flares


Cost of disappearing rare species now just pieces of faeces in their lost lairs


Searing temperatures rearing still somehow our despairs never even airs


Gearing up for the veering apocalypse peering as the sun stun gun glares


Must be bold steering pioneering derring do clearing these nightmares


Who dares volunteering to stop the interfering engineering by the billionaires?
Form: Rhyme


The Daredevil Rescue

Stranded in war torn Sudan, 
Dreading yet another dawn. 
In Wadi Sayyidna town,
Hopelessness was weighing down.

Men and women, young and old, 
Watched the civil war unfold.
Homeless, desperate, full of  fear, 
Longing for their near and dear. 

Then on 27th April night,
A C-130J took flight. 
Manned by pilots skilled and brave, 
Tasked to rescue and to save.

They were flying almost blind, 
No navigation aids would they find.
Degraded strip, no landing lights
In the darkness of the night. 

Infrared sensors scanned the ground;
No inimical force was found.
Using goggles for night vision,
Thay carried out their tough mission. 

An enthralling tale had begun;
Six score passengers and one 
Shepherded onto the plane.
Headed for their homes again.

Valor of the highest kind,
Audacity was redefined. 
The Hercules and its brave crew
Achieved a feat of derring-do.

India's vaunted military might, 
Wrote another chapter bright
In our valiant history;
There for all the world to see. 

Written by Colonel Ramanan Duraiswami 
AMC,Rtd 
29th April 2023.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member I Stare In the Mirror

I Stare in the Mirror


I stare in the mirror and what do I see?
An old man with rheumy eyes looking at me.

Who is this old codger, this balding old shell,
Who cannot remember what it’s like to feel well?

Where is the vibrance, the get up and go?
Why are his movements so painful and slow?

Who stole his glowing skin, his dark flashing eyes,
His derring-do, courage, his sense of emprise?

What happened to big ideas? Future? Ambition?
Why do his joints fight a war of attrition?

Why can he see clearly adolescence long past,
When he cannot remember the thing he ate last?

It doesn’t make sense, I don’t recognise him,
With his belly and baldness and weakness of limb.

No! That mirror’s a liar, whatever I see.
Whoever that old man is, he can’t be me!
age
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Laughing Lad

Oh Laughing Lad - atop your steed,
          How full the hours we spent at play,
               Yet now you bounce to bound away,
     With grand adventures left to lead ...

Sweet carousels you've spun, a-twirl,
          With derring-do of knights from old,
               And Oshkosh armor, bright and bold,
     To catch the eye of one charmed girl ...

Oh Laughing Lad with lands to roam,
          They'll have to wait for one new day,
               Through tears, I watch you ride away ...
     As soft now, angels guide you home.





~ 1st Place ~  in the "Strand Pick 5, Any Theme, Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
Form: Rhyme

Upsets and Underdogs

Kiwi Cricket's Shangri La...


"Can still hear the deafening din of the Indian crowd chagrin.

Stunned shell shocked silence at mandarins' sins.

Yet somehow still so loud

Like thunder down under in the proud

Land of the long white cloud.

Daring to dream of derring do plunder.

Upsets’ unctuous umami.

Shocks’ sumptuous serendipity.

Cast asunder as against the odds.

Hallowed Gods' anguished..felled & fallowed.

Kiwis vanquished the voodoo of Indian home hoodoo.

This purple patch, so perversely plush...got a hunch.

Would make even Prince blush, proud as ribena punch.

Sporting nirvanas cavorting with crepuscular career nadirs.

Can’t pillory this Test expedition, like the Everest conquest & Hillary.

Black cap sedition…Indian perdition.

Tradition debunked by spunky funk.

Not once, not twice but thrice.

Teeming..awash with gleaming beaming white.

Emancipation...damnation & salvation.

The Indian’s cardinal sin…not being able to play spin.

No way you can naysay.. just 

Another Bill Murray Groundhog day.

As we learned..the underdog winner.. we yearned had turned.

Fat cats burned & stats spurned..into a dog's dinner."
Form: Rhyme


Is Ashwin the Indian Don of Spin

Where do you begin with Ravichandran Ashwin...intellectual impresario

Red ball romeo... conceptual maestro..the Kingpin of spin..leather lothario

Perpetual taunting...teasing..bubbling cerebral cauldron formenting..haunting

Troubling.. flaunting...tormenting..vaunting..fermenting..pleasing

Luminosity...but another one of the band of badger brothers

Reeks of unique chic tweak at its peak

Bare faced cheek of genius geek cavorting

Discerning pastor preaching while yearning for learning 

More about turning…..curiosity pique...sleek sporting freak

Mythical master of disaster..have many if any been reaching 500 wickets faster

Viral spirals about this sage despite his age still taking centre stage

Batters like budgies trapped in a gilded cage

As though he had planned to grandstand the Ravinchand bandstand brand...stealing the back page

Revolution masquerading as evolution...cogitating...searching for a solution

Ruminating..problems to fix with his swag bag of tricks..spinning absolution

Precision physician with constant revision...each edition

A new rendition.. high jinks with winks.. and nods to tradition

Wondering...that furrowed brow..pondering how

Career of seams caressed with finger finesse ... architect..engineer without peer…

Can't debunk the magic funk…just respect from a Test tragic monk

Scientist enthrall..sorcerer gall...still one of us...the best of us all.

So hold your head high Ravichandran..still don't know why you were so often the fall guy

Fans vicarious view..our meme..you part of our team...daring to dream..your art of derring do

Iconic booty of noble probes…lush lullabies...strobes lapping global lobes

Sagacious..loquacious oratory...the tonic...fruity frolic

Fresh from laboratory duty..bodacious bucolic beauty

Even naysayers can't deny they relish that conjuring charm from your cherished right arm.

Let's zoom to the elephant in the room...is Ashwin the don of Indian spin

With the skill and will to top the bill and still pip Anil?

Kumble also a defiant giant on whom they were so reliant

Hot to trot just not as savvy as Ravi

The Don's got the lot..takes number one spot

Wealth of stealth...doyen among men..but never ever about himself

He loves cricket just for the cricket itself..zen then..
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Time To Go

In my old age 
I thought I’d have such yarns to tell,
of derring-do when I was hale and hearty.
Looking back, I wonder now just what befell
me in those years
and did I miss the party?
Distant echoes further fade
as all the days slip by.
An aproned lady combs my hair 
and tells me I should try
once more to do the jigsaw,
but I really don’t know why.
They tell me I have new friends now,
sitting in a circle, wiggling toes,
or neatly slipper-clad, arranged in rows,
we sing “We”ll meet again”
at bedtime with our cocoa,
smoothing out the pain.
But well we know, when it’s time to go,
it’s our “au revoir” refrain.
© Peter Rees  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Ravine Real

Ravine, art thou real?
You certainly look deep.
Thunder, o'er volcano peal!
Through the boneyard creep!

Hope, just take the night off.
O prisoner, take heed:
First you squat and then you cough.
Golden is such greed.

Emptiness, seep into me!
Flicker, fancy-free.
Time immortal, blessed be?
Sink him in the sea.

O Alliance Black Abyss:
Today I must die.
Yawning chasm, blow a kiss.
Shiver as you sigh.

Back in ancient Carthage?
O state religion, new?
Serenity, O my sage?
O agony, accrue.

Gulf within me, fissure wild.
Robot: reconciled?
Mother, father, clasp thy child.
Floor, monolith, tiled.

Dreams of our tomorrows?
I cannot miss the point.
Endless are such sorrows!
O bitter art, anoint!

Giving up? Why, yes, sir.
I do not have a clue.
Reality, whir a-blur!
Doubt and derring-do...
Form: Rhyme

Daring Dead

Dour-faced servants, thunderbolts, towering bad days.
Will or reason? Time, truth, dolts! Dynamite dismays!
Suffering, you heard the man! Damn you, let us in!
Hell and Heaven, what's the plan? Span, O light of Sin!

Wilting flowers on the beach? Autumn, thou art here.
Must be something out of reach! Sour and severe!
Cannibals, thy holocaust! Wicked is the past!
Radar love and bargain Faust! Get me somewhere fast...

Weathervane, thy sugarcane. Point of bleak despair.
Disparate and desparate! Devil, how you care!
Perfect? This does not exist! Honor those you love!
Rapier, flash! Twist, my wrist! As below, above!

Sickness, sweep over my life! Take a hold of me!
Sail us all towards bitter strife! Aren't we fancy-free?
Gated are the hated? Yes! No going outside!
How much the berated guess! Love, bless you!  Betide!

Gold beneath the vast still lake? Schedule thee a dive.
Bloody bubbles? Big mistake! How the widows cried!
Suddenly there's nothing left! Grief and horrid loss!
Derring-do and then bereft! Window, have thy gloss!

Death, thy faithful partner! Doom, just give a call!
Daily does my vision blur! Warriors in the hall!
City of the ancient dead? That is where I'm from!
O ye serpents, strike at lead! Better than a plum...
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member In Days of Yore

In days of yore a lady's heart was won
Through chivalry and deeds of derring-do.
If swain proved false, she'd bid the knave be gone,
Adjust her cap and look for someone new.

By age fifteen a maid was in her prime,
Her window for a spouse a narrow slit.
She could not pule and pine for love sublime,
And oft as not would take what she could get.

When knight set out to win his lady fair,
Through joust or other mortal combat act,
He knew that love for him she would forswear
Lest he prevailed with manly parts intact.

Today true love is not so much a chore,
And less dramatic than in days of yore.
Form: Sonnet

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