Long Devised Poems
Long Devised Poems. Below are the most popular long Devised by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Devised poems by poem length and keyword.
“I am somebody’s child, and I need attention, I am somebody’s child and I need affection, I am somebody’s child and I need love and devotion”, she murmured as she walked through the door. She wasn’t sure where she was going when she left the house; she wasn’t sure about the next encounter, but she walked for five hours until she reaches the border.
The speed, at which she moved, left everyone confused but she was determined to make a point just to stay alive. She did not plan a journey she just wanted to live, and hang out with the daffodils but the trap was already set before they made the bet. She could sense it from within and so she had to learn to swim; with strength in her arms and strides in her feet, she made it through the dark before the break of dawn.
They searched everywhere for her, but they could not find her, the public became aware of it and they start to build a myth. Officer Jones devised a plan to begin the search mission he knew what he had up his sleeve, because he was so hard to please. He had laid the ground work to start digging up dirt, to catch the big fish and throw them back into the ditch, the climate was right and the alibi was riding high in the sky.
The search went on for days with no sight of her abducted in the bush or held captive by the brook; it was just one of those situations where you have to keep on top of things before the universe done you in.
The cheese, and the pie, the crown and the dye were just too reveling so they had to search for another meaning, and the sky was their only hope to keep sailing on the boat and so the narrative changed to give her all the blame.
Was it a crime torn area or someone lost their way and bumped into a criminal flattering in the sky that is a one-hundred-dollar question from a village miner who could not fit the pieces together for the director or the operator.
And so, the question remains, whose back was she trying to cover? My mind wander and wander and it didn’t look like a deal that turned sour, neither was it a set up by gate to discover something before it was too late. Everything seems to be in perfect harmony with the guitar, the piano, the band and the musical director.
The great Gatsby would have won the case if Tom Buchanan had not shot him in the pool over the death of Myrtle Wilson his darling wife. "I am somebody’s child," she screamed.
I am whatever you say I am...
but, let's get back to reality...
Three short years ago, this room shined welcome mats across a screen of doldrums.
A place of unfamiliarity that screamed,
"You don't belong!"
Yet, a voice of reason spoke and said,
"Expand yir' roots. Venture beyond the comfort zone. Academia resides inside that room, but know you won't be alone."
Repeatedly,brainwaves declined what my wife and editor had told me.
I'd say,
"no way, I'm givin' up my soul for free, they read, they pay, like it's always been, the way it's going to always be!"
Unbeknownst to me one day, and with a slight of hand, my "Open Sores" were put on display and surprisingly more than a handful of great ladies and nice guys began to give feedback on what I had devised.
This interaction was something very new, helpful, and impressive. For a change, it was something real.
For years, those around me were quick to give praise with hidden reasons. Constructive criticism is amazing, and I welcomed being corrected or set straight.
Now there are those who choose to shut me down without explanation, and call me names.
DO NOT mistake me for sophomoric! These words bleeding from my guts have no style and need no approval. There is no thinking involved here, no plan. If you don't like it, fine...don't censor or bracket me in. So what if I am illiterate? If you don't like "street poetry" or the pathetic stuff I write, don't read it. If I offend you, tell me.
We should welcome those who are different than us.
Words of truth inspire movement, like fire.
I came to this room to expand my horizons, step outside the box, learn, help, grow.
There will be no apologies dealt for being different, or for being labelled as something uncomfortable to you.
This has been an ok room so far, but there is some clique trickanery going on.
If the dictionary must come into play, let me recommend looking up the term "Poetic License."
True, I may not be the writer you prefer, or aspire to be....but tread carefully my friend, for you have no idea of my profession. I've made a fine living, for a good long time, spewing words onto paper. I came from nothing, and may still be nothing to you...still, I do what I love, have no boss.
I am not an aspiring writer who dreams of a life, I live my dream. In conclusion, I must wish you luck in finding what you peddle poetry for. Until then, keep
Have you ever met those kind of blokes who get upon your nerve,
when they quote continual references that most think should deserve
a threatening confrontation that if they make that quote again,
then the punishment that’s handed out will give them heaps of pain.
A gang of us were working down along the Main Drain stream,
clearing blackberries and willows on a governmental scheme,
and as usual on a Monday morn, weekend glitches are highlighted,
that are full of doom and gloom, and mostly are ‘beer blighted.’
For Clancy, Joe and me, we sort of blessed the doom and gloom,
as it transgressed into humour, and so there wasn’t any room,
for the likes of workmate Charlie who only saw a brighter side,
when there wasn’t any bright side; just a great gloomy divide.
Charlie is the eternal optimist with no matter what is said
in the ghastliest of circumstance even if someone was dead,
and Charlie only had one quote that we’re sure he did rehearse,
and so we heard it every time ‘It could have been much worse.’
So after work one evening in the pub we had some beers,
with ‘it could have been much worse,’ still ringing loudly in our ears,
and with Charlie being absent we devised a cunning plan,
to rid him of that bloody quote and then praying that we can.
We thought that as a perfect subject we would use our good mate Ted,
in a steamy sordid untrue yarn to get inside of Charlie’s head,
and have him shaking in his bootstraps, plus gulping in his throat,
to avoid us hearing one more time, his annoying bloody quote.
And so ‘it could have been much worse’ is about to get the chop,
as we cut and piled the prickly canes, of a large blackberry crop,
so when the time was ready, with Charlie well within ear shot,
Joe babbled out the sordid tale that was really ‘Tommyrot.’
“Did you hear about our old mate Ted, and what went on last night?
He caught his wife with Jimmy Hale, and there was a shocking fight;
he shot ‘em both and then himself!” But Charlie stayed quite calm but terse,
as he rolled a smoke and muttered out, “It could have been much worse.”
“Much worse!” We squawked as one... “How can it be worse than that?”
And the answer Charlie gave us… well it really knocked us flat,
after dragging on his cigarette, he sniffed and quietly said,
“If it had have been the night before, it’s me who would be dead.”
There once was a much-desired piece of real estate nearby the estate of a king.
The property was coveted by the king and owned by a subject in his domain.
The king offered the above mentioned landowner a fair price, but he promptly refused to sell.
The use of eminent domain laws is said to have originated in the early 1700’s;
but this story took place hundreds of years before Christ. It refers to an evil king of a Middle Eastern country.
In a democratic republic, many properties are often secured by eminent domain.
In the above mentioned kingdom, the citizens also had rights to be honored.
The king was known to be evil, but even he deferred to the citizen’s property rights.
Though a king may be evil, he need not seek to do everything evil. So the king went home very sad, because he sincerely wanted that property. He said it was close to his estate, and owning it would allow him to expand his garden.
Nevertheless, it was not to be. That is, until the king’s wife got word of it.
The queen soon noticed the dejected and disappointing demeanor of the king.
Upon learning about her husband’s dilemma, the queen promptly resolved the king’s problem without further questions. The queen devised a lying and evil plot, and in short order, she had the man killed. She then confiscated his property and handed it over to her husband the king. The property owner had bravely exercised his right to sell or not sell to the king; but it cost him his life. Yes, the king had a reputation for being evil; but his wife the queen was far more evil than the king.
The exercise of our rights can be costly, and may even demand the ultimate price. However, the pain is greater, and the wounds are deeper, whether inflicted by the state government or by people, if rights are ignored. The evils of a State, whether it be a kingdom or republic, can only persist if the good people of the state do nothing. When good people are silent, the state is at great risks of doing evil. But when good people are vocal and prayerful, the state does good and serves them, because they exercise their rights. ‘The Good’ can only be realized as good people rise from their seats of apathy. Good people can only see and combat evils as they raise their heads from the sands of indifference.
cj 07232015 PS
Oddra was a little birdie who was locked in her gold guilt cage.
On the eve of her destruction she was too quick in throwing down her page.
Serendipity had led her to the most wonderful birdie carnival in town.
Little then, did any know, that soon would come WWE, Smack Down.
She spread her wings and danced and sang and flitted all about.
The she started out and shared a bit….OK…she shared a lot!
She was in her groove! Or At least that’s what she thought.
This is when the lines got crossed, causing the great confusion.
That escalated to pointing fingers blame and accusation of delusion.
Unfortunately, her listening was selective. So this is all she heard,
whispers, “What kind of bird is that, a loon, a coo-coo bird?”
“She looks a little parroty to me”. Writing on the wall read, “sitting duck”
Unwittingly she’d stepped on toes, as misconceptions flowed both ways.
She had no idea that some had known her from before, in better days.
She did not hear nor see them. Did not hear them rapping at her door.
The kept reaching out a hand to say hello. She appeared to just ignore.
Who’d be talking to her there? She’d never been there before.
She completely missed her half of her poor friend’s ironic one way conversation.
She shared again, totally unrelated, that fit in perfect context as brutal provocation.
After this, the demarcation line of friend and foe becomes a little blurry.
Each perceived the others actions as offensive resulting in actions of fury.
Hold a pen in front of you, from end to end, creates a line.
But hold looking down its barrel and it’s circular in design.
Both are true, and also both are lies. In the end they’re both the same.
Is an Oddra not an Oddra even with a different name?
Here’s my stamp, Divine Design; classic, tragedy and comedy. That was the only
mask.
Oddra, cursed the circled ones. The lines, drawn in the sand, doomed her as their
task.
The lines devised a brilliant plan: having placed some peas around a hole they’d
made in some ice,
“Apocapus”, as she’d been dubbed, “She has to pee sometime, When she comes up
to take a pea
we’ll kick her in the ice hole.”
There it is my friends. Oddra was Slammed dunked!!
This is just tale. I to this I will fully digress, I am a very Odd Duck!!!
There were those too, caught in the middle, undeserved bad luck!!
Form:
who is too busy fighting the devil,
all good energy eluded
if you truly understood yourself
you would not be so deluded
many fight an imagined internal
fear-
everyone allows the devil within
your nasty thoughts, never shared...
...madman exposed by the violent act...
lay dormant suppressed by false fear...
this knowing, this accepting,
a purely human observation,
blame God if you must you are
after all his miracle creation?
who pays for the lip
service to a religion
built on mans'
self destruction,
...devised by
corruption...
a religion built on
wars self sacrifice
, desperate
resurrection,
modified reincarnation,
how do you know, this religion is
not the devils' work?,
after all, there are more sinners inside
than outside of a church...
playing second fiddle to a man who
claims he is the annoited one,
this religious lip service,
could the annoited be a fraud?...no! thats right
God speaks to him, oh yeah nut jobs...
it's voices he heard...
if you were all together, free in your
mind-you would be able to see
how you are being fleeced
you wouldn't be so blind...
hey keep going to the preacher...
he's probably keeping you sane...
it's cheaper than doctor, financially
less of a strain...
but remember, just because you go to
church you're no better than me
just a little desperate, out of touch
with reality...
a lot of people these days stay away
from the pulpit, history reveals...
basically it's a weapon, it's a devil
filling your head with s#@t...
...many believers understand...this
religious clap trap in modern day
does not apply...
It is belief in ones self...this
you cannot preach or buy...
if you need someone to lecture you
on what is wrong from right...
to judge other people on any given
day or night...than you are in the
right place...
your mind is outdated
attend your weekly meetings
have your mind manipulated
hey whatever floats your boat...
whenever the day comes and you
decide to exit...
the people up here will still refer to you
as a mind deeply perplexed a thought
not easily rejected...
you have the answers,
they are in your head-but
you would rather listen to
a history, a reign of
madmen instead
In the beginning it was not so. Adam and Eve were perfect when God’s created them. Their interaction with each other reflected the perfection of the relationship between Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
They, like us were created with freedom of choice and could choose whether to follow God’s plan for their lives, or go their own way. When tempted by Satan, they chose to follow his suggestion and disobey God.
That act of disobedience fractured their relationship with God and with each other, and resulted in the brokenness that we experience today.
Adam and Eve hid from God after their disobedience. This is the first evidence of Brokenness. We hide or try to hide our wrongdoing because we are Broken.
Confronted with his disobedience, Adam and Eve resorted to blame. He blamed God, she blamed the serpent. Ever wondered why we are inclined to blame others for our mistakes. It’s because we are Broken.
Many children are abandoned by one or sometimes both parents, who themselves were abandoned by one or both of their parents. The result is brokenness.
Divorce, substance abuse, prostitution, sexual promiscuity, lesbianism, homosexuality, bisexuality, low self-esteem, pleasure-seeking, lying, cheating, stealing, killing, and a myriad other dysfunctions are symptoms of humanity’s Brokenness.
Where do we find help for our Brokenness? It begins with a choice. We know from experience that to keep our cars running well we need to follow the instructions in the Owner’s Manual.
Follow the instructions and your car runs well and you get to enjoy it for a long time. Ignore the instructions and your car will finally break down and leave you stranded. The choice is yours.
After this Brokenness invaded God’s plans for a perfect life for his creatures, he devised a plan to combat our Brokenness and finally effect humanity’s healing and restoration.
Like cars, we have a Maker and he has provided us with an Owner’s Manual, called the Bible. Read it and become familiar with God’s plan for our healing and restoration.
By following his instructions, we can mitigate the effects of our Brokenness. When we ignore his instructions, we experience break down in one or many areas of life. The choice is ours. Healing and Restoration or Brokenness.
The Elves were in a pickle
As the Reindeer brought forth a crucial stat.
They would surely die... should they attempt to fly
Now dear Santa was too fat.
Their contract was clearly structured
To keep them safe and sound.
Where it would state... poor Santa's weight
Could not exceed three hundred pounds.
They were well aware of Santa's feelings
And no one wished to see him hurt.
So to fool the man... they devised a plan
To secretly let out his pants and shirts.
But the Reindeer were still troubled
As Rudolph sadly repeated their demands.
'There is no earthly way... to pull the toys and sleigh
With such a chubby Santa in command.'
The Elves put their heads together
And a clever idea was quickly gleaned.
For the next two weeks... they would make him eat
Nothing but pork and beans.
With a chilly Christmas Eve upon them,
They struggled to lift Santa to his sleigh.
But with a heave and a push and a slap to his tush,
He called out to the Reindeer...'Up Up and Away.'
The Reindeer pulled as best they could
And all would groan and wince.
Santa tugged on the reins as the reindeer strained
But the sleigh was not moving an inch.
Santa adjusted his boots, then unleashed the most heinous of toots
And they made ready for him to depart.
So to continue their game... the Elves ignited a flame
And set fire to one of his farts.
There was an incredible sound as the sleigh leapt off the ground
And disappeared into the blackness of night.
As the stars were a shootin'... the old Elf was a tootin'
And it made a most interesting sight.
With the children asleep... Santa made not a peep
But there were those who were cautious to tell.
In the morning they were greeted and many strangely tweeted,
They were accosted by a foul odor and smell.
The Elves were ecstatic Christmas Eve had been saved
And the Reindeer had suffered no harm.
But Santa was still pollutin' as he continued his tootin'
And Mrs. Claus made him stay in the barn.
So when the weather turns cold and the wind sets to blow
And the family car refuses to start.
Make sure Father is seen... to have eaten his beans
As you may need to ignite one of his farts.
The End
*Follow my cartoon at Webtoon Bob's your Uncle.
Electroconvulsive therapy,
a last ditch avail
able effort optioned, aye bewail
as desperation if standard
psychological measures peter
out leave ving paul tree
(paltry) choice, and blackmail
ling Doctor Frankenstein
out of the question, cuz
accidental discover re:
visa vis could yield (ahem) grave
zero APR, hence bad
(bon jovian) medicine
sought as precautionary
measure to countervail
undesirable repercussions
hoop fully curtail
ling any unexpected derail
ment, thus every nitty gritty detail,
asper my treatment plan
made purposely intractable
courtesy Matthew Scott Harris,
to flummox decrypting
this daunting task, whose
hair brained scheme didst entail
hatching with Sam I am
(of Doctor Zeus fame)...Oh...My...G___
egg gads no fail-
safe recourse, should shell shock
Electroconvulsive – formerly electric shock
therapy even slip an infinitesimal jot
offsetting requisite
exactly predicted results
yes, even if precision errs
by a mere clipped fingernail...
the sought after outcome
(devised on the fly - by night
Reddit writer above named author)
must absolutely dovetail
with The Elements of Style
or very close
facsimile thereof, anyway
strict requirements quality controlled
with results tubby
sent as email
to Strunk and White,
who will flail
like some GMO gone awry
(if patient accidentally electrocuted)
finding them to become
instantaneously petrified and frail
looking analogous to
witnessing the Holy Grail
shattering into a bajillion pieces,
whereby the heavens,
would reign hail
scaring every last man,
woman, and child to hightail
donned in heavy duty boots
studded with many a hobnail
with duff feet, sans long arm of
law and order on their heels,
and if any scapegoats nabbed
definitely consigned to jail
without chance of parole to prevail
no matter guilty might sail
to some tropical island awash
with countless carbon copies
of Euell Gibbons doppelganger,
and Swiss Alpine like mountains to scale.
One fine, hot, summer day
My brother Scotty and I, were held back, from play
Angered mother
She sent us, to our room, bothered
In our opinions
It wasn’t the best decision
Immaturely actively singing a song, that was seemingly, very, very wrong
In captivity we, devised an escape plan
To sneak out man!
I mapped a simple route
To the front door, where we’ll scoot
Easy going down, the wooden stairs
Forgetting what was really fair
Together we sneakily, started down
Towards the frustrated, warden zone
Remember the third step, is a little creaky
Now, without regret, sneaky
Quiet
Softly
We
Crept
Mom was cleaning the floors
Tip toe towards, the front screen door
All clear of sisters
(In a whisper)
Easy, does it, Scotty!
Quit laughing!
Then, I slipped and lost my footing
Hitting every step going
A loud noise
Swearing
You can bet
We don’t need those toys!
(You can stop whispering)
Uh, ah, oh!
She had to know
Hearing her drop her cloth
Scotty started up the stairs, intimidated by the boss
To the top
Then gave me a brother spot
She doesn’t play fair
What, the, sweet, summer, grounded over the tears!?
Is going on out here!
Sending an energy, with summonsing fear
I will put my foot, up both of your, mischievous, misbehaving butts!
She took off her, fogged up glasses, and went a little nuts
Someone is getting this smack!
Scotty, get back!
Abort! Abort!
Little bro
For the team, you know
Out the bedroom window!
Don’t forget to, remove the screen
Remember what happened to me
Seen me plunge before, but never made it, one more
She’s now picking up steam!
Scott, you can do it, with ease, just slowly lean
I’ll take the rap
You can count on that
What did I tell you, two!?
Alan!
This, just, won’t do!
Then everything stopped
A Scotty flash and, dropped
Right past the living room window
That a boy!
Brother
Conqueror
She must have seen him, in my eyes
Yelling, she turned to cry
Scott!!
Stop!
You go get your brother!
In one long mutter
Now, she was really, starting to get bothered
She made me go get him or she’d tell father
Then she sent us back, to our bedroom
Doomed
Ok, this, time, we’ll…