Long Erred Poems
Long Erred Poems. Below are the most popular long Erred by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Erred poems by poem length and keyword.
I. e., this unfortunate
mere erred reflection,
aye re: zine
(pronounced Syne),
cuz you Matthew Scott Harris
act like an old curmudgeon,
does nothing but whine...
this one dimensional mere silver,
copper film and multi layered shine
of waterproof paint
on back surface doth deign
as merely superficial float glass fine
visualization cannot detach itself
(analogous to a Siamese
twin engine eared ensign)
sullying for all the
world wide web to see mine
capricious, facetious,
and inglorious rotten chine
(vis a vis via,
sexually seedy, Nein
dynamic, salaciously scabrous,
spicily shamelessly pine
ning sultry rhyme
(without reason) attempting
to wax eloquent as nonpareil poetry
by futilely try'n
to make a silk purse out of swine
(actually a sow's ear), meanwhile dine
'n high and mighty trump
petting haughtiness hoping to line
up ducks in a row at mine
(your poor reflection), hmm...wondering
mebbe I can latch unto a stein
way praying for some means
to become divine
very aware that
no mirrored reflection can exist
from a corporeal entity,
who cannot ever hurt or kill me,
but,...yeah go ahead,
and take a fist
also aware nothing can undo
that banal, carnal, and offal dreck,
which materiel could be ideal grist
for erotica such as Hustler,
and/or Penthouse, where prurient
Lady Chatterley's naked lunch evocations
conjured behind wordy myst.
Prometheus had erred and caused great ire
when stealing in stealth secrets of fire.
But Zeus could not forgive this deed.
The chieftain of gods punished his greed.
The lightning zigzagged across the sky,
in anger he let thunderbolts fly.
Instructions he gave to mould from earth
a woman endowed to prove her worth,
all humans to touch their lives and shift
the balance with her seductive gift.
Hephaestus was told what to create;
Pandora came forth through heaven’s gate.
Athena supplied her silver gown,
her head she adorned with ornate crown.
She hastened to guile the human race
her nature refined to tempt by grace
alluring deceit that knew no shame
her mission withstood distrust or blame.
Pandora’s torment flowed wide and far.
She carried with her an earthen jar.
Instructions were laid to be obeyed
to keep it enclosed and so it stayed
till yearning became hard to resist
temptation knew well how to insist.
Alone by herself beside a brook
she lifted the lid, a glancing look
that opened the flood to evil force
unhindered it spread and took its course.
She panicked and pushed with all her might;
the damage was done – eternal plight.
A trickle of hope was left inside
but hardly enough to turn the tide.
When laws are defied they cause much grief;
the pleasure derived is false and brief.
Temptation is what destroys the weak;
redemption is there for all to seek.
Forever in life it’s hard to cope.
Pandora we chase in search of hope.*
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* Pandora is chased for the only thing left in her jar – hope.
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Author: Paul Callus
Contest: Men Only #2
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Placed 1st
My heart, feeling like a heavy lump weighing all over all me,
Closed itself in a chest full of demoniac seeds
Hoping, that by doing so, it would bring itself to destruction,
Yes, it would rot and decay
To such an extent that it would forget about the pain,
The hurt, the feeling of having been taken for granted
The shock of having been taken for an emotionless doll
Meant to be used and abused
Meant to kept there, on a decorative shelf
Having as duty, the sole responsibility of keeping silent
And allowing life to act as it deems it right, upon me!
"I am leaving," I whispered with a teary breath
On a piece of scroll meant for the lover to read
After he would wake!
I knew, I would miss his comfort, his steady breath,
His stability, his rule over me, his imposed limits,
All which allowed me to thrive,
As long as I remained blind
To the fact that I was not enough for him!
Then, placing my hand over the Fate screen,
Blinking dangerously to how souls
Were being armed with sins,
I just let myself be propelled into a world
Where living is trapped by the laws of actions and reactions!
Yes, a world seeming to be both heaven and hell
Depending upon its location
Depending upon its whims
Pray, if nature chose not to destroy
Why, it's humans themselves who resorted to do so!
At least, here, I knew, I would suffer
Yes, here, I would be so taken up by woes
That I would forget about that which I left up there
There, a place whose name I have even forgotten!
But what I expected not was to meet with supernatural phenomenon
What I expected not was to experience celestial love
What I expected not was to meet love, here, toiling,
Like me, in human form
Trying to adjust to life's tempo
Trying to secure his uncertain future
Trying to find me, to save me,
And our love!
Pray,
If love erred
And now wants to be forgiven
Why, does it not become my aim
Does it not become my loyalty
To appease it and to love it back?
Somehow, this world shall fade into nothingness
What shall matter is the fact that we shall succeed in getting back there
There, a place whose name I have now forgotten
To help bring Earth back to life again
As it had been our home, for a while!
For Contest Fantasy
Sponsored by Deborah Guenther Beachboard
Written on 25th March 2018
It is common knowledge to those who have shared rooms with the groom and those who have only shared houses with him, he snores
and no matter what one tries to do to stop him, or to dampen the sound, his snoring stubbornly soars
After having tried everything from clothes pegs to sound-proof walls
after drowning out his hog-like snorts with the seventh symphony of nature's bird calls
I finally arrived at a solution that could only be dreamt up by someone on the edge of insanity
How often, I thought, do annoying sounds top the musical charts of humanity?
If record scratching, Sesame Street's Grover
squealing guitars and da da das over and over
are able to be the musical hits of the night
then why couldn't the sounds of snoring become a delight?
A chart topping snoring song would send a message to the ear-battered wives of the world their sensory perceptions have erred
that snoring is not to be complained about, but rather preferred
Wives should be proud of their man's popular melody
They should listen intently for talent and balladry
It should lull them to sleep as the lulling of their feral felines that have purred
or as the evergreen 'Rock-a-by’ or Hush Little Baby Don't Say A Word’
If, however, the bride can't obtain this perception of snoring
I'd instead recommend she perceive it as boring
for it would be highly inconsistent of her to fall asleep while her husband is making advances toward her
but to stay awake during his monotonous snoring, which to the same extent hadn't bored her.
Certified vegan;
Non-GMO Project Verified;
Free of dairy, lactose, soy, and gluten.
The consistency of vanilla
creamy and luxurious,
without a speck of iciness,
yet not overly heavy.
The flavor rich
with notable burst of sweet vanilla.
Said comestible insanely versatile
and will surely be a go to dairy-free ice cream.
Sold at LIDL, and other sites
ourselves former first time taste testers
erred on the side of caution
and bought in quantity
courtesy the missus foresight,
who now deems said food product
more precious than fine spun gold.
Pint size container only ample enough
to buzzfeed temporary craving,
yet invariably whets appetite
(to the power of googleplex)
for insatiable consumption,
thus one must thwart willpower
and surrender tastebuds to devour
one after another 473 milliliters
or more familiarly 16 ounces.
No matter yours truly could consume
aforementioned dessert
for breakfast, lunch, and supper,
the novelty to savor said special treat
would remain as intact
and robust as if one tasted
SO DELICIOUS product for first time.
I never tire scooping out
one after another spoonful
and slowly lick globule
(even when marginally hungry)
relishing each tongueful lickety split
steeling myself against
aggressive depredations of wife
before she ferociously lunges
toward me in a futile attempt
to wrest delectable mouthwatering
(just a hairbreadth of being decadent)
foodstuff guaranteeing happy shiny tummy.
Go ahead indulge sweet tooth
or even if toothless
the culinary quasi oral pleasure
can still be experienced.
Young Barred Jeff the hair once heired and was bard
from Barred Bare Camp cause when bear he was hard.
Neigh,said he in the bairn wear the auld stud nayed,
Owe, eye oh fare Merry her fair must bee paid.
Her fair's dew her an' eye'll faint with me stave.
The auld counselor feinted ass Jeff misbehaved.
My stave is like ewe just ask Merry's made
oar ask the yew in the dew; she'll bleat what eye said.
Barred Jeff maid a song witch told of his whiles
it went on two long wile marry Merry beguiled.
Know boatman with or, oar blacksmith can boar
wench better, he said, of this eye am sure.
Perhaps, a black stallion, perhaps a bold bore
butt, barred Jeff beared was the won who scored.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Young Bard Jeff the heir once erred and was barred
from Bard Bear Camp cause when bare he was hard.
Nay said he in the barn where the old stud neighed,
Oh, I owe fair Mary her fare must be paid.
Her fare's due her an' I'll feint with me stave
the old counselor fainted as Jeff misbehaved.
My stave is like yew, just ask Mary's maid
or ask the ewe in the dew it'll bleat what I said.
Bard Jeff made a song which told of his wiles
it went on too long while merry Mary beguiled.
No boatmen with oar, or blacksmith can bore
wench better, he said, of this I'm quite sure.
Perhaps, a black stallion, perhaps a bold boar,
but, Bard Jeff bared was the one who scored.
Journeying The Fiery Furnace Of Hate…
Once more and again, our hush harbors of audacious faith,
Studded with rainbow stained panes, have become matchless
To the penetrating beams of the putrefying rays of fearful hate:
Veiling the blessings of the sacred cross’s grace and righteousness.
The wayward children of Satan no longer wear their stained sheet
Scorched by the sweltering flames of God’s desecrated trees---
But scroll with ease into the sacred fold where peace and love meet:
With bowed heads---collectively sowing seeds of Grace on bending knees.
It is said that to forgive an erred human mind, is truly and act divine.
It is said that we must forgive frightened minds oblivious to what they do.
What a heavy burden heaped upon the bloody hearts of yours and mine;
May The Most High God forgive my wanting vengeance for me and for you!
Once more and again, let the fiery furnace of hate be drenched with holy water
from above.
Once more and again, let our earthly sojourn leave footprints of victory, unity
peace and love.
Beneath the night's canopy, the stars stretch out their shimmering silk,
Over rooftops, trembling a dreamy blue.
The moon, our gentle beacon, walks sadly among gardens,
Guarding, perhaps, the dreams of the sleepers, in her divine silence.
Midnight strikes, the late hour, the mystery begins to weave,
I know that you, too, far away, in your night, cannot find rest.
Your lashes, light butterflies, refuse to close until dawn,
And in the silence of your room, unspoken words dance unheard.
On lips, sweet words intertwine with others, sharp as thorns,
In the depth of the night, between tenderness and harshness, unheard conversations.
Who erred between us? A question lost in the labyrinth of stars,
How to find answers when our gazes stubbornly refuse?
And I, just the same, am not without blame; the shadows of my mistakes stretch out.
My light, if only you knew how my soul longs to be close to you.
Who will take the first step? In this night, your heart is a storm,
You lie awake, with open eyes, but at dawn, you will close up, like marble.
It is okay. I will be the first to come towards you.
Why should pride prevent us from finding our happiness?
Sleep peacefully. Tomorrow I will find the path to reconciliation,
A bridge over the night of insomnia, to find each other in the morning light.
Under the veil of stars, in the silent dance of the universe,
Our thoughts intertwine, meld into the infinite.
In this cosmic ballet of unsaid feelings,
I promise to find the way to your heart, with the dawn of a new day.
Between spacetime ripples
lurk dark energy waves,
emanating from the void
strange forces hold me slave
I mean! What type of creature/
flies a kite in thunderstorms
One searching for answers
carrying Cain’s multiple forms?
Left to roam earth’s surface,
blind man at the controls,
Free will: a human delusion,
designed for plugging holes
Filling up wishing wells
that possess no walls or gold,
If angels once flew here,
torn scapulas failed to hold
Inconsequence yields potential
for those without aim,
Living in guilty dreamland,
faking the conscience game
Fate’s not predestined,
broken paths bifurcate the way;
Either side are minefields,
where decimal points blow astray
Catatonic medication
seeps into my mind
Light speed slows down
bringing stability of a kind
I stare at open ripples,
stretching ever far apart,
reflecting chronic heartbeats,
flatlining from the start
Can barely make an effort
to clear my cluttered desk;
paperweights grow heavy,
the inkwell more grotesque
Time — time is endless
when prepping a final letter.
No sense quoting scriptures;
makes the flood outside seem wetter
To hell cast this world,
gamble away life’s coffers
Nothing left but truth
that only entropy offers
Chip the tip off a bullet,
Russian roulette my head
Peep inside the hole dum-dum,
you can always bank on red
Question marks hang over Cain;
mine has proven true
Decimal point erred again,
later resurfaced askew
Left to bear its blunder,
I send my kite into a storm tonight,
To hear the heavens rage,
“That decimal point was always right”
By
David Kavanagh
If the Muse bolts from me, I'll love her more
still and pen heartfelt songs of forlorn rhymes;
yet, I'll still wilt within internal climes
of gloom from her forsaking me before
I empty her spirit, for I've sometimes
gone to cruel lengths to dash her gentle heart.
So, having erred, the consequence for art,
and ingenious meters, thus makes betimes
my Muse's faithfulness to then depart
(from me). To shortly beg her forgiveness,
I take my medication, lower my stress:
renew my efforts to make a fresh start.
For my patient Muse, a Pierian empress,
inspires my dark, bipolar mind's fitness!