Long Event Poems

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


Surveillance Camera

i need to stop frowning and epitomizing
and sell this Caddy to the Cardinal
trying to let it miss your attention won't fly
since writing is speech even if somewhat removed
or fit only for bouncy news anchor banter
pancake makeup a bit too aflame
like they do in shadow theater
where the container is the contained
because we can still index the cornucopia
eff you said the furry little May Pole Bunny
you can be sure he was in on it too 
along with the Hen in the Willow
the Great Flaming Spiral in the Sky 
and the nuns of St. Manacle
doing their Plantation Rebel Dance
with cascade of equally herkimer antecedents
perpetually enthused with the mystery of tomorrow
just don't try to tell me how to move my eyelids
smoke signals will always take care of that
cascading across the clacking copper contacts
in a total lack of continuity all at once
it is a pigeon tongue spoken in barter
barely able to walk after the derision of linguists
lobbed horseshoes across the barricades
against surgeons wielding kitchen knives
on a search and destroy mission
for chopped liver epicures from the Bank of Winter
living dead men's dreams was no picnic
memes eating my soul like red worms
only my degree from the School for the Sickly
standing between me and the Necromancers 
who were emphatically not house trained
my collective unconscious operation manual
tossed on the burn pile half a life ago
now dumbed down to syntactically correct 
in infinitesimal quantities with a Nefertiti smile
my mind a bordello of interpretation
God is not dead he is passe etc.
a raised by wolves feral non-conformist
everything orbits everything else
and that's space for you
which will bend yer crank kid
unless you can get your mood to swing
out from the nether realms of mourning
and the agony of oblique signals
written with the ***** of Satan
shaking money from your pockets again
a Conniving Backstabbing Bastard production
he hated coercion like he hated licorice
he was revolution incarnate all fresh and rosy
it was a kosher Pentecost event
tried quoting Lenin but it was too easy
the proletariat is people in a pickle
the dueling cucumbers of class warfare
now I'm on a dozen watch lists
followed by Diana's paparazzi
to this claustrophobic cinemaplex
and its temporal artery of light
at 3 in the afternoon
a good cheap remedy
following a bad diagnosis


Chaotic Soul

My soul has gone through constant torment as many have come into my life for the mere enjoyment of giving me deceit. It was a long night when I saw the rain falling from the clouds outside. As it hit the ground, I heard a voice in the dark. It was the voice of a small child. I saw her crying in the rain, tears streaming down her pale face. She was shivering and soaking wet from the pouring rain. I could not let her, a small child, suffer through the night or even for another second. I opened the door and ran to bring her into the house. I was alone that night as my family was at an event I decided not to attend. The child had long black hair with highlights of red. Her eyes were red from her crying. Her clothes were soaking wet from the rain. Immediately, I went to grab a throw for her to be warm. After that, I made her some tea as I had no hot chocolate. Kneeling before her, I gave her the mug, and she took it with a weak smile while she drank. I asked her, “Are you ok, angel.” She looked up with a smile and nodded. As I turned away to get her some food, she asked me, “Are you ok?” I could only say that I was. She replied, “You don’t look well.” “A wise girl,” I thought. I told her that I was trying to adjust to being a single man with no children and the prospect of it being always. She asks why I feel this way. I tell her about how I have seen many women deny any relationship with me as they feared I would leave them once I achieved my dreams and how I had been rejected by others who saw no value in me, for they only wanted someone to fulfill their dreams. This little girl looks up at me with tears and states, “Allah has seen your struggle and has sent you a message through me. It is not to worry, as the little girl looking at you is an angel in disguise. I am your guardian angel in disguise as your youngest daughter in the future, her name is Hope. How can it be that you are here in the past then, and how can it be that my youngest would have the named the name that I would want for my first daughter? The angel replies, “Your first daughter is named Bella Maria, your second daughter is named Faith Gianna, your third daughter is named Mindi Rose, and your two sons are named Liam and Logan.
Your dreams will come true; you only have to wait a little longer. Your enemies will be at the table that has been prepared.
In an instant, the angel was gone.
Form: Prose

Cattlecoaat Dipolamcy

THEY WERE NOT ADMIRED, THEY WERE HARDLY EVEN LIKED, THEY REFRAMED FROM COMMENT DUE TO THEIR DISPOSITION, ALLOWING
SOMEONE WITH A GREATER DISPOSITION TO BE IN CONTROLL. mONITERING
THEIR ABLITIES WOULD BE EASY AS THESE MEN WERE ADVANCE IN THEIR TRAINING. THEIR WORKS WERE OF THE TEACHINS OF "GEM FULLA" (WORLD FAMOUS SUBMITION GRAPPLER. ONCE KNOW IN THEIR NATIVE COSTA RICA AS
U-NEW, AND U-OLE, THEY HAD REIGNED SUPREME, UNTIL "THE MEN FROM DAFFA" CAME TO THEIR TERRITORY, AND MADE COMPANY MEN OUTTA FREELANCERS. THEY DEFEATED THE TWO IN A "COMMONGROUND- STANDOFF"( A TWO OUT OF THREE FALL SUBMITION MATCH) THEY WERE DEPOSSED BY THE PROMOTION, AND SHAMED BY THEIR PEERS, THOSE WHO SUGGESTED, THE TWO TO WEAR MASK, IN LIGHT OF THEIR SHAME. MONTHS LATER, WHEN THEY HAD REBOUNDED TO RECOVER, THEY HAD WON 25 OUT OF 33 MATCHES, AND HAD POSITIONED THEMSELVES FOR A CHAMPIONSHIP TITLE MATCH. THERE LUCK EVEN HAD THEM TO FIND FORTUNE IN MEXICO, WERE THEY BECAME CHAMPIONS NATIONAL, AND PRIMO JAPAN'S TOP-DRAW CHAMPIONS, BY DEFEATING THE LEGENDARY TEAM OF BRICE BULLSTRONG AND PANK PRICHARD. ONCE AGAIN THEY WERE ON TOP OF THE HILL WHEN THEY FOUND THEMSELVES COSTA RICAN TAG CHAMPIONS VIA, A NO-CONTEST STIPULATION IN THE CHAMPIONS CONTRACT, WHEN THE CHAMPIONS REFUSED TO DEFEND THE TITLE THE CHAMPIONSHIP COMMITY NAMED THE NUMBER ONE CONTENDERS THE NEW CHAMPIONS, ONCE THE TITLES WERE STRIPPED FROM THE CHAMPIONS,U-OLE, PULLED THE MASKED LUCHADOR INTO THE RING AND PINNED HIM, THIS CEMENTED THE REIGN, AND EVEN THE LOSSED CHAMPIONS GAVE CONGRADES TO THE NEW CHAMPIONS. 
     WE DON'T KNOW IF IT'S TRUE OR NOT, BUT THE APPEARANCE OF A NEW TEAM IN THE HIGHLY POPULAR WORLD BRAND RASSLIN, COMPANY NAMED THE DUO NUMBER FOUR IN THEIR INTERNATIONAL SERIES ( A TAGTEAM TOURNAMENT) BUT THE OPPOSING SIDE HAD A NEW TAGTEAM NAMED " RIVERRATTS" (PANINI PRESTON ANDAUX AMANDES ) WHO RESEMBLED THE COSTA RICAIN DUO. WORLD REKNBOWNED GRAPPLER, CUSSIN PAGE, CALLED OUT BOTH TEAMS TO GET TO THE BOTTOM OF THE SITUATION, BUT ONE TEAM DESIDED TO JOKE AROUND, AND SENT OUT TWO WOMEN DRESSED AS MEN IN MASKED TO ANWSER THE CHALLENGE. FORTUNATLY FOR THE FANS THE RIVERRATS RECORDED THE ANWSER TO THE CHALLENGE EALIER, THEY ACSEPTED THE CHALLENGE, AND THE MATCH WAS MADE FOR HOUSE SHOW PRIOR TO THE MAINEVENT TELEVISION EVENT. WE DON'T KNOW WHO THESE GUY'S ARE BUT WE CAN'T WAIT TO SEE WHAT THESE PEOPLE HAVE TO SAY,

Two Steps Ahead

You’ve met me,
but you just don’t know it yet
The dream house that you want,
I once polar bear hibernated there ...
two winter moons ago

The summer fruit of relaxation
that you’re tasting now,
I planted it 
two prior vineyard cycles

I’ve always been double moves ahead,
my checkered past
	taught me keen ways
		to escape poverty dread

The slum lord pitchfork
tossing that Ebenezer heavy eviction bale,
tried to do the Scrooge pinch
But me knew da Judas outcome of da sell

You’re a patsy-come-lately,
a puppet bought for sure foreswore
Tho’ a couple chiggers too twenty-something slow,
worms like you
got oasis left in the wilderness dust forty years ago

What you wanna see,
I already seen
I’m always two pillow turns ahead
in your dream

What you wanna do,
I’ve already done
Me always be two rabbit hops ahead
of your turtle run

Here’s the six-digit green lumber 
you need to cellblock 8 learn
The lockup combination number
to make those tumblers turn

My moves are two steps ahead 

Me be a r-Evolving, double smoking barrel — 
twice-pulled trigger click hot lead
You’re a patient zero, broken wing sparrow: 
double goose egg, game over dead

I’m always two giant steps ahead

Where I’m ultra solar at
is where you really orbital wanna be
Meesa is a quantum grasshopper high five,
and you’re a gravity locust low three

I live in your twin borrowed tomorrow,
two steps above your ire paygrade
Truth trimming lie bacon is how I get paid

Two floors down at prime usury sorrow,
open pawn shop roasting in shade ...
You’re a pet loan shark getting chum made

I’m always thinking two steps ahead,
delivering ancient sayings that was future said
Meesa gon make your puffy jaws red,
two steps backwards is where your hubris bled

Where me be perched,
is where you’re trying to DNA air flow
I’m four wind birthed,
you’re a deuce snake eye on a belly roll

Me two steps ahead,
just so you know
You’re frozen in place,
minus-two below

I’m living at the kiss end of the Snow White story,
and you ain’t even got a singularity event Black Hole clue
Me 9 generation Lives looking thru a supernova rearview,
your Seven Dwarves tardy situation is inert glory

Two slave wage fettered steps ahead,
is how it’s always gonna be
Eating my Thanksgiving meal on your Labor Day,
is so Easter morning worthy
Form: Epic

Premium Member My Favorite Number

I was born on July 20, 1958.

Being one of seven children and having a mid-summer birthday, even as a young boy, it was 
not uncommon for my birthdays to come and go without much fanfare.

In the winter of my Fifth Grade year at school, we had an assignment to write a short-story.  
I was already in love with writing way back then.  My short story was on a topic that was 
very much in the news at that time and a very interesting and exciting theme for a young 
boy.  I wrote a short story about me being the youngest astronaut in the space program and 
being selected to be the first astronaut to walk on the moon.  I was aware at the time, that 
the US and USSR were in a Cold War race to be the first country to achieve that lofty goal 
and I knew it was bound to happen soon.  To make my story even more special, I wrote that 
this wonderful event would take place over the coming summer, on my birthday!

Well, lo and behold, as the winter turned to spring and spring turned into summer the Apollo 
11 space mission launched from Cape Canaveral carrying three astronauts, two of whom 
were targeted to walk on the moon.

As my 11th birthday approached, without any notice from anyone else, I watched in awe as 
the Apollo 11 made its way to the moon.  On July 20th, 1969, the lunar landing module, 
Eagle, set down on the moon!  I remember expectantly waiting for the astronauts to be given 
permission to exit the Eagle and step foot on the moon’s surface as the hours of my birthday 
ticked down.  

It was about 10:00 pm eastern time when my parents finally sent us all to bed on the news 
that Mission Control made the decision to wait until the next day to send Neil Armstrong out 
of the lunar module.  With tears in my eyes, I went to bed thinking that I missed my chance 
to share my birthday with history and to have had my short story prognostication come true.

At a few minutes before 11:00 my parents woke all of us up to come watch as Neil 
Armstrong could wait no longer and talked Mission Control into letting him walk on the moon 
without further delay.

So, at about 11:00 pm, on my 11th birthday, the men from Apollo 11 walked on the moon for 
the first time in history.  One small step for man and one giant link to history for one small 
boy in Charleston, West Virginia.

And, that is when 11 became my favorite number.
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Bio


The Busy Street

I see you running up and down the street staring at me through your dark tinted mirror; I couldn’t see your face but I saw your hands moving about on the steering wheel as you mount that battered hill with curiosity and reality staring in your face.

 I have subdued all feelings and continue to search of new meaning. I want to catapult up to sky and have some fun before I die. Are you going to mask your hands too with a gloves and a colored shoe?, What are you afraid of? The dress, the crown or the new frock? I saw you going up the hill with something that is smaller than you but you ride with a vision that is bigger than yourself.

The sun rises slowly over the hill and burst through myriads of grey clouds pouring out a warm friendly smile that sinks deep into my flesh. The morning sweat kept seeping through my pores soaking my clothes and dripping water all over the floor, it’s as if I have just ran a marathon ten times around the track clocking a faster time with all that I have got .

I can see you standing over there looking at me over here. Driving up and down on the street disrupting my heart beat. Why did you come here if you have nothing to fear, you kept hiding from me as if you are my destiny. I do not know for sure where this is going but I will journey with you to the end. 

The big stage is rolling in and the streets are busy with fine merchandise from home and abroad, trucks are lined up at the corner and the streets shoppers and vendors are walking around trying to get the early morning sales.

The actors are repeating their lines and dancers from all over the world are rehearsing for the big event. A hundred and ten bands are on the track and the jazz performers are waiting at the back.

Big trucks parked up on the business street with millions of dollars of catered food stuff; chef, waiters and waitress are running about clearing the trucks and unpacking the stuff, it is going to be a big bang with coronation  bells flying all over the land.

See them dressed up over there in fine costume and carnivals boots, their painted lips and exquisite attire set the whole world on fire, the music is playing in the background and everyone is gathering around

Come to where I live and I will show you something astounding, the streets are packed and the birds are flying in the air and the message is quite clear.
Form: Prose

Slam Synchronized Olympics Diving Injustice Slam

Watching the Olympics news
coverage today

Sadly this is the conclusion 
i came to afterwards

Our British male duo won gold 
in the synchronized diving event

Brilliant yes of course an 
unbelievable achievent

But given more than any other
sport the clue being in the name

It should be equal appreciation
and praise for each as without
the other winning is simply
an impossibility

So how come then i know who
Tom Daley is but don't even know
his diving partner's name

Maybe that's because he was
made to appear or seem
totally irrelevant by the media
news coverage

After the pair won they cut to
Tom Daleys family his mother
husband and their baby

Then we see Tom being
interviewed , Tom singular 
on his own fielding questions
mostly regarding his personal
life and sexual preference

And thanking the LGBT
community for all there support

Exactly what that has to do
with diving i hold my hands
up i do not know admittedly
i am no expert on the subject

But personally for me what
i found was the real kick in 
the teeth smack in the face

As i for 1 absolutely love and
breathe sport the gift the ability
the dedication the sacrifice

Was how it was constantly
infered it was only Tom's 
dream since he was a young 
child to win a gold medal

Again personally and only
to me what i seen goes against
the very ethos and ideology
of  what the Olympics itself
stands for

I felt so sorry for him and his
family as Tom family husband
and child got more coverage
than he did

I tried to put myself
in his or his family shoes
and tried to wonder

How they must have felt having
their joy pride stolen and cheated
from them

Reduced merely to a bit part
or side show to the main event

And again i protest because
the clue is in the name

Synchronized Diving a duo
a pair a partnership a team

1 simply can not without
the aid of the other 1 win

So tell me where on earth
is the justice and sportsmanship 
to be found here

And his name by the way
just incase you missed it
or care is

Matty Lee and he to also 
wanted to be and win a
gold medal

And was just as dedicated
and trained just as hard in
order to achieve and make both
theirs dream a reality

Rather than as the press and
media barely refer to him as

Tom Daleys diving partner
or the other guy

Premium Member The Coward

Cowards die many times before their deaths…
Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene 2 ~William Shakespeare

spouse 
a souse 
classic grouse 
a big girl's blouse

portent ominous 
assertions blasphemous   
obscure and anonymous 

his skulking is nefarious 
utterances acrimonious
and implicature often dubious 

uxorious but still pusillanimous 
**********************************

An example of a rhopalic verse.
Rhopalism: A rhopalic sentence is one in which each successive word is one letter longer than the previous one. In poetry: where each word is one syllable more, or it might increase each line in a stanza by one syllable (per my example), or a metric foot. 

IN THE SAME CATEGORY OF CONSTRAINED WRITING
The Rhopalic Couplet, also called Wedge Verse, was first used by Homer in the Iliad (3.182). It is a poetic unit of 2 rhopalic lines where each word progresses adding one more syllable than the preceding word in the line, for example, 1, 2, 3, 4 … syllables. The sequence of the syllable count can be identical in the second line, or it may be reversed. The couplet does not need not rhyme.
_____________________________________________________________

In The Coward, stanzas are broken up along the syllables of the end rhymes: spouse, souse, grouse, blouse; om-i-nous, blas-phe-mous, a-non-y-mous; ne-far-i-ous, ac-ri-mo-ni-ous, du-bi-ous & pu-sil-lan-i-mous. 

LEXICON
acrimonious: (adj) (typically of speech or discussion) angry and bitter.
a big girl’s blouse: British idiom, meaning someone is ineffectual or weak; someone failing to show masculine strength of determination
disposition: (n.) inherent characteristics.
grouse: (n.) one who complains constantly. 
implicature: (n.)* the action of implying a meaning beyond the literal sense of what is explicitly stated, for example, saying the picture frame is nice and implying I don’t like the picture. 
innate: (n.) inborn, natural
nefarious: (adj) (typically of an action or activity) wicked or criminal.
portent: (n.) 
1. a sign or warning that a momentous or calamitous event is likely to happen, an omen.
2. (literary) an exceptional or wonderful person or thing. [‘What portent can be greater than a pious notary.’] 
pusillanimous: (adj) showing a lack of courage or determination; timid.
souse: (n.) a drunkard.
Form: Other

Just In Case You Wondered

Just in case you wondered...

Yours truly, (i.e. I) quickly
became hypnagogic afore
subsequently segueing soundly
into autohypnosis booklore,
while binge reading courtesy

regarding aptitude chore
treasure trove books galore
five dollars as many
paginated fictitious stories ('bout deplore
hubble basket cases) fit into authorized bag
infernal challenge sifting evermore

alum skid more or less
bending and reaching skyhigh
toe tilly (ejaculating
what the heel) footsore
compromising writing, rather heretofore
indulging insatiable knowledge

(surpassing narcotic fix),
the world wide web hide ignore
engrossed various and sundry
enchanting, kickstarting, and revelling - bonjour
dear reader buzzfeeding...

Till chief hankering
(regarding appeasing passionate
word loving aficionado,
albeit temporarily ceased
(think intellectual fancy feast)

getting imagination (mine) linkedin
outspeeding lightning greased
experiencing cerebral capacity increased
virtual make believe
terra incognita leased.

insatiable jabberwocky yen
countless hours elapsed when
inconvenient wont head sleep
wracked courtesy (bowling) ten

pins nabbed mettlesome ambulation
often found me - hen (pecked) hex pen
sieve dishabille scattered brained brute
somnambulant analogous awake burning ken
kindled smoldering cognitive tinder even...

Chilly cooling off, where
temporal lobed hiatus taken
beefing portfolio in effort to scare
back poetic proclivity despite near
severe withdrawal symptoms
reacquainting novelty here
with effort to jog capacity
to craft poem quite aware...

Unsuspecting readers breathed
sigh of relief interim joker I went absent
posting trademark gobbledygook,
now unnamed fool rushes in,
where angels fear to tread - nay cent

return of native son unequivocally, pinterestingly
digitally... afore written dive versification
brandishing said as unsung literary event
psalm time sacrilegious Jew bull gent
bringing entertainment intent
to thee anonymous

analogously, humorously, and parenthetically
lamely affecting (i.e. poorly emulating)
Shakespearean belles lettres,
perhaps coronavirus pathogen
t'will cut me down, whereby

microbial size Clark Kent,
whoops twas Lois Lane I meant
to empower one meek and obedient
primate even during
but, and, or conjunctive
rutting season quiescent.

Fire is My Soul

It has been a long time since we have truly embraced. The last embrace we had was two years before our reconnecting. In the past, many people would say that we would be great together since we spoke so much and never fought during the first year and the last year. At least, that is what you stated to me. I can only be a friend as these years have reconnected and shown that I was not part of your life back then. The time lost between us cannot be made within weeks. Whatever love I had for you is no longer there. My responses to you have been more of a reaction to the event; however, they are not of my true free will. I wanted to believe we could be together until I realized you were not there to celebrate with me. You do not say anything to me outside of our everyday communication. You genuinely do not love me. If your claimed (in your mind) ex was not sent to the afterlife, then you would still be with them (only in your mind). After the events that have played out for both of us, I realized that I can only keep you in my past heart; however, you cannot be with me in this life as a partner and not in the afterlife as a partner. I will not be a rebound for anyone. Where were you 17 years ago? When I asked you out, you gave me a lame excuse as if you spoke about the event prior with your mother. Leading me on all those years ago assisted in wasting my time when I could have spent time with someone worthy of my love.
Scars run deep, and I cannot speak of the pain that they have caused. What I once felt for you, I no longer felt. The flame in my soul is burning bright as I have seen the deceitful kisses on my cheek from your lips. The wounds of my friends who do not kiss me are faithful. Each time a tear drops from my cheek, it evaporates, and the water will not extinguish the flame. My heart only weeps as I see that I was never necessary to you until your former mate was no longer here. Are you telling me the truth when I never saw you with a mate at your party two years prior? Each night, I spend my time in class after work and on my days off. I need a partner that will be here by my side. You have only given me space. People from the other side of the planet have given me more praise. Friends from different regions have encouraged me to do more. You have not been here by my side. With no regrets, I must decline your advances.
Form: Prose

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