Long Eight Poems
Long Eight Poems. Below are the most popular long Eight by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Eight poems by poem length and keyword.
hey ho
does an octopus know
how to juggle with eight cups and saucers
and the fish watching him
while the elephants swim
then he juggles with a turtle and tortoise
then ho hey
does the octopus say
I can do this all day round in circles
but an ache in my arm
in my arm, in my arm
and so on through all eight tentacles
so hey ho
let the octopus go
to bed nice and early with honey
to rest and recline
for a considerable time
so he doesn’t feel worn out and funny
ho hey
and a new octopus day
refreshed and all ready to juggle
so with cups and with saucers
a turtle and tortoise
but the elephant’s splash makes him struggle
hey hey
that’s not fair that’s not fair
so the octopus went somewhere quieter
where he practised a lot
and a lot more than not
and so now he’s a pro entertainer
Lying in bed, the light of my computer bright
against the still images slowly changing on the silent TV across the room.
Despoiling the image,
nine seventeen, pm
stands out on the bottom of the screen.
My tired head resting from the day's turmoil, unthinking,
unfocused.
In front of me I find myself back on some poetry page.
It appears to be a contest.
Yeah, me writing poetry, much less entering a contest,
what a joke.
I reach over and slip my headphones on,
“All I Ask of You,” from Phantom of the Opera is playing.
The room is dark. The room is quiet.
In the dimness on the wall in front of me
I glimpse a surreal painting my daughter painted.
The lower portion, that of a young woman,
changing to trees and clouds and blue sky.
No eyes to see.
The images imagined in her mind.
In the dimness the homemade gesso,
creating Bas-relief against the canvas, is imagined in mine.
The dark wooden frame stands stark against the rose grey wall,
the matted canvas surrounded by white.
Only sixteen and able to create such
mystery, such allure.
Ellen Greene,
“Stop and See Me,”
such sadness and longing in her voice.
Her giclee print smiling at me to my right, she was eight,
her older sister's, at age three, frames the large window.
Strong and independent, she makes me so proud.
She will likely be moving out soon.
I don't want to think about that.
“Run Away with Me,” Michael Arden,
I lose myself in the music,
“Evermore,” from Beauty and the Beast
(the Josh Groben version).
Loud and all encompassing,
surrounding me in another world,
letting free my emotions, calming my mood,
“I Dreamed a Dream,” Ramin Karimloo,
what's that sound?
I remove my headphones.
It's the dog.
OK, Oliver, I'll take you out.
I turn off the music.
On the screen I see
eleven forty-six, pm.
So much work I've neglected for tomorrow.
07/07/2018
I must say that it was a very mild and doubtful assumption because I could not understand how and why a spider would allow himself to become trapped in his own web. That is why I was compelled to do a special investigation this morning.
More than forty years ago, I was hired by A company that made it clear to me that 'Job One' was, 'assume Nothing'. A famous US President once coined the line, 'Trust but verify'. This morning, 'Assume but verify' was most appropriate for me. At around 8am this Saturday morning, I observed a spider in our garage whom I had seen in an immobilized position for several weeks. I continued to notice him and it appears each time I saw him, I could detect no movement and thus assumed that he was dead in his own web. But Oh, how wrong I was.
This morning, my curiosity got the best of me. So I decided to reach out and touch him. With a tool in hand, I touched the eight-legged spider whereupon he shook back and forth most ferociously, leaving no doubt that he was indeed alive and well. It was then that I also saw two smaller spiders and tested them as well. They also displayed a show of liveliness whereupon I suspected they were in training being taught how to trap a meal.
Some may deem my garage investigative reporting mere child's play, but I
Rather think I should beware of my surroundings because in so doing, I just might learn something.
09142019PoSoupCtest, Strand Choice F, Brian Strand
Deep within his marrow, he knew she would go
Her imminent departure a nuance of the seasonal paradigm
He poured a drink as he gazed at the falling snow,
It was still autumn, yet winter had the temerity to arrive ahead of time
He wished her proclivity was to leave in spring
To play out this saga when flowers bloom
But fate had something else to bring,
Barren landscapes and a wintry gloom
The aperture of his camera captured the snowy scene
As a sort of brokenhearted souvenir
At another time its full meaning he might glean
His thought were now of winter drawing near
He could attest that his hopes began to grow,
At least for a while they would not yet part
Her departure was delayed by the falling snow
Falling gently, and settling on seasons of the heart
~
10-31-18
Eight Word Challenge-9 Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Withdrawn am I, with feelings oh so grim
and melancholy. Ever since he left,
I stay so lonely just recalling him.
My heart is shattered and I feel bereft
as if somebody died though he died not!
Alive and very well is he, and so
I can’t help feeling gloomy, for I’m fraught
with a depression that has brought me low.
It’s like a shroud that’s always over me.
Oh, how I wish to be myself once more!
But then I leave my house and chance to see
that new girl with the man I still adore.
I see no signs that show he might still care.
No wistful flicker in his eye is there.
May 31, 2023
for Emile Pinet's Eight Word Challenge Poetry Contest
Note: The eight words required, in any order, are:
wistful... withdrawn... grim... melancholy... shroud... depression... gloomy...feelings
Nineteen nosey newts nudged nasty nautical nannies
Eighteen eager ermines excitedly edged everyone’s ego
Seventeen sacred slugs sat sideways searching seagulls
Sixteen slippery snails slid southwards sipping sangria
Fifteen flowery foxes fell forward fondling fuchsias
Fourteen frantic fleas froze fighting frightening fanatics
Twelve twiddling tigers told thirteen tasteless tales
Eleven elderly elephants embellished eighteen ebony earrings
Ten terrified tardy ticks tricked two thirsty Turkish tramps
Nine naughty nasal know-it-alls knew nothing nearing knowledge
Eight elastic earthworms echoed eighty edgy Egyptians
Seven solemn snakes slithered slowly sensing sunshine
Six sassy silk-moths sceptically squished spinach selfishly
Five funny fatties feared following fancy French fashion
Four fantastic faithful Finnish flies faked famous farcical facelifts
Three tenacious terriers thrilled twelve tipsy throbbing thespians
Two tireless Tanzanian tapirs tittle tattled tirelessly throughout Tuesday
One obedient oily octopus offered obnoxious orangutans oranges outrageously
At the local bar one friday night, we were shootin' pool and getting tight,
Just havin' fun in the neon light, yea, everything was cool, out a sight!
Now I've played pool for years on end, my stick play is cool, sometimes I win,
With 2 balls down, I still played the same, I'd bought the last round and hadn't won a game,
Yea, this luck of mine sure seemed strange, Ol' Biggin' shot fine, as the eight ball remained,
As he walked to the table to shoot the eight ball, his win was probable, as he made his call:
"Eight ball in the side chump!!"...Ol' Biggin' did say,
While my throat became a lump, as he cued his play,
Then the shot went to pocket the eight, and I couldn't believe what I saw,
Ol' Biggin' blocked his scratch on the eight, yea, didn't let the cue ball fall,
So I told him: "That sure is Jive!" as he stood and stared at me,
His eyes looked like he was fried, and Ol' Biggin' stood 6 foot 3,
Then he called me a geek! so I called him a goon! and so to speak......a Big baboon!
When he called me a fool! I called him a twerp! and that snatched his cool! so he snatched
my shirt,
What happened next was my surprise! Ole Biggin' landed left, right between my eyes!
And I hit the floor so hard, no slack! Yea! Biggin' tore the shirt right off my back!
And I felt the swellin' layin' on the floor, with Ol' Biggin' yellin' and wantin' more!
So as I was getting up and could hardly see! I swung an upper cut, you know where that
might be?
Uh! Huh! you're right...but is it cruel? when he turned out my light and snatched my cool,
So should the moral of the story go like this?: "Don't play pool if it' pool like his" Or:
"If you play pool....It's just another game of: Don't snatch that, cool!"
Oh, how I yearn, blossoms of spring
When nights are mired in wintry freeze
And days shudder, as zephyrs zing,
Where fall decayed in frozen breeze.
As meadows ache of dormant dreams
Oh, how I yearn, blossoms of spring
And prairies rushing giggling streams
When songs of romance robins sing.
While shivering trees snowflakes cling
And barren hills long verdant glee,
Oh, how I yearn, blossoms of spring
Where chasing nectar monarchs spree.
When buds winsome of season please
Sprouting trees that rustle and swing,
As tranquil green foothills appease;
Oh, how I yearn, blossoms of spring.
May 5, 2023
Placed 2nd: Writing Challenge – “Y” Words Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Form: Quatern (eight syllables per line)
I, The Clone
So that I would not live alone,
My parents thought I should be a clone.
They cloned at first two then four,
Then they cloned just four more.
Being the first parents in the nation
Practising exponential regeneration
They tried again to double the brood
Using methods not fully understood.
Breeding at this prodigious rate
I soon numbered two thousand and forty eight.
And, allowing for those not now alive,
Next became four thousand and sixty five.
So I continued to expand,
Filling up towns throughout the land,
And, some years after the age of consent
Held all the seats in Parliament.
And so it’s easy now to see
How I became my own M.P.
When I numbered six million and forty two,
I was army, navy and air force too.
At ten billion three hundred and twenty eight,
I became head of every state,
And, depending on my point of view
Deposed myself with war and coup.
So by accident or by intent
Became first global President.
Now four trillion seven hundred and ninety three
The only person in the world is me.
28th Feb. 2016
Originally drafted in the days of Dolly The Sheep.
Traces of the masterful
impregnable prepubescent wall
still extant scads of decades since
complex edifice erected to force tall
permanently leaving me unmoored,
marooned, and furloughed ready for pall
bearers to spill soil upon my
then emaciated stick figure overall,
an unlovely bag of bones
stripped of flesh,
sans unseen deadly parasites,
who valiantly tried to mothball,
and nearly succeeded, kneaded,
and deeded landfall,
when aghast parents
at wits end betiding,
halting, and ramming ace kickball
player with serious
game of life and death,
the latter cleated toehold
unanimous decision to install
topnotch scorer anticipating
seeing his name plaque mounted
within glass encasement within guildhall,
faintly hearing inaudible teammates
praised showered, visited
head upon one, with grit and gall,
who clinched championship
wrathful excoriation against me
referee could not forestall,
who fumbled, kindled (as predicted)
loose tongues flaying hide with no rescue
to escape being skewered behind eight ball,
thus the above "FAKE"
metaphor merely to accentuate
self repudiation delivering
to this defacto scapegoat
bullies taunts endlessly berate
ting, jackknifing, and resulting
with implacable self hate
deferrening allowance,
asper my grant (migrant)
humph...pariah status
to learn social skills quite late,
and apathetically to marry and mate
despite ambivalence within my pate
even now...the entombed fortress prison wall,
I cannot obliterate
hence... no surprise WALLS - I HATE!