Long Excessively Poems
Long Excessively Poems. Below are the most popular long Excessively by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Excessively poems by poem length and keyword.
If only there was more time,
If only I wasn't always tired,
If only I wasn't so differently wired,
If only we had a little extra dime,
The two words I always turned to,
My immediate reflex responses,
Helping me make the best excuses,
Whenever there was something I had to do.
But then a virus so minuscule,
Comes a-waltzing surprisingly,
Granting me to be lazy ceaselessly,
Not having to follow any rule.
Endless time, with no where to be,
Movies just waiting to be watched,
No more people to avoid and dodge,
And a bed to sleep in excessively.
Could this actually be true?
But something was clearly amiss,
And swiftly faded my bliss,
When responsibilities cast a grey hue.
Because now, there was nothing to cover,
My laziness and laid back attitude,
No more excuses to find in this free solitude,
So I turn to those words again like a destitute,
If only lockdown could just be over.
Friggity friggity!
MacRaith and O’ Tuama:
poets incessant and
blabbering bores.
Publican served insults –
flibbertigibbeting.
Rhetoric ingrained dull;
flyting supreme!
________________________________________________________
The limerick is an English comedic five-line poem. The form could be found in England as far back as the early part of the 18th-century. It is thought to be derived from the Maigue Poets of Croom, County Limerick (depicted here). When the two erstwhile friends, Sean O’ Tuama and Andrias MacRaith, had a falling out they started trading insults (in rhyme format), ie flyting.
LEXICON
flibbertigibbeting: frivolous, flighty, or excessively talk.
Flyting or fliting is a contest consisting of the exchange of insults between two parties, often conducted in verse.
Basis you realize living can be unpleasant
Also, seeing the blessings is hard
In every way, attempt to be grateful
Furthermore, attempt and track down a silver lining
Whenever torment is persevering
Also, the hurt appears to be excessively weighty
Recollect you are strong
What's more, this is brief
Decline to check up without out.
Decline to allow anybody to tell you
That you can't arrive at the sky.
Decline to enjoy every moment.
Continuously plan for later,
Despite the fact that it isn't ensured.
Premise benevolently decline to permit anybody
To change your heart.
Accept that God will lead you
To a higher spot.
Accept that change has beenn
Acknowledged for your life.
Accept that somebody is observing
Over you Child of Maugo
Continuously encapsulate
This conviction within you
That one day you will arise a hero
Ooh good son of Suna.
Black crime, Justice prevails
Lilly White Crime, no justice hailed
When the crimes of a man weigh more than the crimes of a man,
Justice has failed
We are all doomed to the broken edge of the gavel when clouds of white nights gale
Forces of guilt driven findings drawn in black man’s plight hammering down excessively to tightly embed black headed nails
Boxes of henpecked shrugging shoulders deliberating measures of one sided balances as a sleeveless gown displays two arms of justice as black and white
A white right arm defended by a two edge sword
A broken black left arm that once kept, law, piece, and order in one accord
Kept the trains of justice from being derailed
And
Upheld the balances of truth on an evenly weighed scale
AC4realpoetry
Christmas.
Believe the story, the prophet, the myth?
Is it all about festivity, excessive drinking and gifts? About family, relatives coming together that otherwise wouldn’t mix?
Do you see it as a meaning?
Peace on earth, will it ever seriously exist?
Opposing soldiers playing football before sending the bullets flying over the ditch?
Christmas.
A tree in the corner, mince pies, brandy butter, foods so excessively rich?
Is this your Christmas? From your earliest memory to this present itch? Itching to make all things lovely, snow falling, reindeers flying, mistletoe to get that kiss?
Or do you think about the others?
People who’ve never sat with family pulling crackers singing songs? People who live with no money scratching scrapings from used bowls? Should we see it as an opportunity to help the people with no families, the families with no homes?
Christmas.
All the best to you and yours.
Enjoy the festivities but please remember what JC would want you to remember - the forgotten discarded lives of the lost souls.
from: "Me to You", by Alastair Reid
"...write me about the weather.
Perhaps
a letter across water,
something like this, but better,
would almost take us strangely
closer to home.
Write, and I'll come."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Monterrey, Nuevo Leon
Dizzied by the whirl of crowds
On sidewalks, seen through windows --
Reflected in mirrored, columned walls --
I drink, I eat, I mull and fret, I yearn,
Little lulled by homely music
Softly playing beneath sonorous
Strains of Spanish
(Beautiful tongue, not yet my own,
But now not strange to me --
Not wholly foreign.)
I sneak sidelong glances, I peek, I stare.
I feign indifference:
A pseudo-cosmopolitan air.
I am quiet and excessively polite,
Not yet knowing how to be rude
In this still stiff idiom.
And, I am intensely lonely --
Hungry for a caressing, offhand phrase,
Only a stray familiar word, hardly heard,
Whispering all there is to say of home.
I loathe shucking clothes,
(no matter eyes severely myopic)
in preparation for here goes
another warm shower quickly
relaxing this senescent
body ready to doze
soon after lathering
this blubbery body
most unwanted fat grows
on me, no matter healthy diet
of worms, or how I stand,
not so easy add a pose
zing losing battle – Mary Jo's
if and geeze us of bulge ill flattering
particularly quiverly, sans white
"WALL" tire tread fully goes
steely belted around lower
abdominal area like lava floes
siring unsightly expose
yore squishy Jew dish priestly
punchy,plasma paunchy, gristly...
pillow like marshmallows
fittingly, rotundly soundly
identical with other schlep
tin (tin tabulation) grungy hobos,
this lap pissed lard (lord) Who Lee
bemoaning, how ilk readily knows,
where unwanted bulky flab...
most detested - hence Corp Yule Lance
leaves noth thin to noblesse oblige,
know bull eats obese,
anorexia nervosa or chance
barking out orders reminiscent, when he
hapt tubby a caller at
weekly square and/or contra dance,
now requisitioned to insulate
and excessively enhance
body electric can be mushed
into likeness of fleshy France
or repurposed into expanse
resembling any country,
whose name Kants
be easily pronounced, and historical
events glommed together recognizable
as Ataturk with a lance
bequeathed to rule World advance
sing gluttony as his divine providence,
thus requires deep dish allegiance
(non - fiber - binding contract)
for eats and make decadent
every fleshpot gourmand
stretching cellular skein to capacitance
bestowing guaranteed deliverance
with their rolling
ballooning massive circumference
into orbit with Earthly moon officiant
eternal fondue irrelevance!
Just the other day
I met Robert Goulet
I was surprised a bit
The way his mustache twitched
A mind of its own
Like in the Twilight Zone
Jumping right off his face
His mustache ran away
Teeny boppers next door
Giggled out of control
As Roberts mustached jumped
Landing in someones lunch
That's when the Maítre d
Let out a girly scream
Quite an embarrassment
To all us burly men
Then throughout the day
The mustache of Robert Goulett
Made a name for itself
As it ventured about town
His mustache all could see
Has a tinder streak
Helping old ladies out
To get across the street
Why it even saved a cat
Giving all its nine lives back
Pulled it from a tree
That was burning excessively
At that same moment saved the town
Itself from burning down
But that story's much to long
To try to abound
The town was so impressed
They trimmed up the mustache
Of Robert Goulett
Then gave it a ticker tape parade
After that they named a street
Because of its heroic feat
If it had two hands to greet
Would have handed it the city's key
And if the mustache could talk at all
Would have given the greatest speech
If Roberts mustache had only known
It'd do this good out on its own
It would have left the upper lip
A long time ago
My parents entrusted you with me,
They left me under your care,
They knew I was safe in your house,
After all you're my dad's brother.
Last night,the worst happened,
You crept into my room at midnight,
You forcefully grabbed me,
And threatened to kill me if I screamed.
Amidst struggles,you finally won,
You let yourself inside me,
You took a way my two decade kept treasure,
You left me with no hymen and unconsciously bleeding.
I woke up in the hospital bed,
The nurse says I almost died,
For I excessively lost blood,
The doctor has the worst news.
Uncle,after taking away my dignity,
You infected me with the virus,
And planted a seed in my womb,
What will I tell my parents?
WE are kin of the soil
but dig with bare hands only what needed and no more
what are my bones function?
there is the answer but I am forbidden to give it
i am to swallow all this raw meat
and what if the meat is maggotous?
what if the meat is breast cancer?
what if the meat is smoke-polluted?
what if the meat is mold-riddled?
what if the meat is wet from someone else's ?
how am I to know the truth?
never will I know.
is this why no one else takes this thing seriously?
and what is covered with a bit of tar emriculated pavement --
not tarred but organic and tarless emriculated -- as my knees
like lemons when I kneel on it -- I have nothing to fall down
to lose so I kneel in her tireless, humid, viscous astringency --
and all the arteries of my body cry out with their own unique melody
when I kneel to receive my fecund material gift from the dirt -
and this body now crushed in this specific form is the very image
of an ultimate answer to my continual dilemma of achieving what is
defined and defined is that it's onewe are kin of the soil
:: 03.05.2022 ::
(*Onew Condition: the ability to freeze the atmosphere with a lame joke or gesture; to be
excessively clumsy.)