Long Fallacious Poems
Long Fallacious Poems. Below are the most popular long Fallacious by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fallacious poems by poem length and keyword.
To you plump puffball,
Squatter of the mushroom fungi.
May your soils be rich
And your spores be many!
Moonstone child of nocturnal reverie
Pride tempts to invite fallacious vanity.
Creamy alabaster skin,
Spongy firm of flesh within.
A saucy lunar face to taunt the sun.
His nomadic gaze leaves no course for fun.
The sun edges off towards autumn skies,
Pragmatically steady; contemplatively wise.
The sun may have kissed her on a whim,
Crazed butterfly flutters; needles to pins.
Translucent skin, her conceit and crown,
Blushes from saffron hue, to Dijon brown.
Physical metamorphosis; transmutations collide,
She becomes a phase converted seasonal bride.
To celebrate this new found core,
She sends up clouds of dust, and sleepy spores.
Carpe Diem.
Fallacious gossip idle talk
Soggy crackling on the Sunday roasted pork
Plunge me into an inspiral Vortex
Without a point or cortex
Scarlet letter's
Like love withered curt roses
Dance behind the misty tree's of palace courtyards
Bewilder me with remorse
Why?
Doth my Curiosity get the best of me?
The Totality of it all
Eviscerate this septic wound of failing marriage
Curiosity has rendered my cat dead
Tantalize me with
8 short well versed words
That speak to me
Like Bird song before early morning dawn's
As life carries on regardless
For John Hamilton's
8 word challenge - 7 poetry contest
The thought weighs heavy on you,
Unworthiness is no mere common flu,
Spreading throughout your flesh and bones,
Beating you with your own cast stones,
Fallacious sickness hurled upon your soul,
You contemplate your toll,
For you think only you can pay,
The brain a malleable clay,
Imperfections pointed out by society,
Causing depression and anxiety,
But to many, a hidden truth,
There is the Holy One's couth,
A covenant made in blood,
Preventing another flood,
He has and will bare this weight,
Do not forget Jesus' state,
He carried the cross for you,
No matter what you do,
Do not let His acts be in vain,
This unworthiness must not remain.
How could the weather forecast not tantalize me
To play truant on the eve of Miss Gaybird’s test?
The river would be an invitation the next day
To go and try my luck at catching a tasty trout.
So early next morning I left my mother curious
Wondering where I was heading to, as I carried
My tackle and my fishing rod and prayed for weather fair.
There the river ran its surface shining and calm.
All day I fished, throwing line, reeling in and slacking out.
Alas it seemed too calm for my eventual luck.
Then a light breeze ruffled the surface and I hoped.
After a while the rod bent, I had managed a catch.
I used all my experience while controlling the vortex
Of elation at what I was sure was a big trout,
I had to tread carefully lest it got away and so
I had to plunge into the water, net in hand to land the fish.
In the kitchen, all alone I knew how to eviscerate the trout,
Clean it under running water and put it in the fridge.
My mother would be pleased, I thought. I would bewilder her
With a great barbeque pleasing dinner when dad came home.
Surprise of surprises Miss Gaybird was there, face scarlet
Asking: “What fallacious excuse am I to hear from you?”
There was not much to say except invite her to eat with us.
Which she did and enjoyed it to the full too.
But I got no sympathy from her. I still failed the test.
Whether I'm awake or asleep,
I walk down a diabolical dark street,
heckled by a voice in repeated repertoire
with dauntingly detestable words.
Taunted and tormented is my soul.
On and on it will dismally droll,
leaving me bewildered, lost in confusion
irritated with the infusion inside my head.
It's a plague, a dreaded curse...
a haunting that hovers as I lie abed.
I'm not demented or delusional.
If this is a callous collusion to drive me insane,
I beg deliverance from the echoing refrain
that takes me into the depths of despair,
leading me blindly as though it doesn't care
if I live or perish in the annals of an abyss.
I ask... what damnable deed have I done
that makes me bleed like this?
Is there no hope of suturing my wounds,
or eviscerating my harrowed heart?
If I could expunge the voice from my mind
would that ease the grief caused by the thief
who is hell bent on ripping my life apart?
Accusations spill from invisible lips...
from a tongue that blames me for horrid things,
leaving me grieving and bereaved
as if the voice is a goading gossipy mouth.
It's a conceived conspiracy,
a fallacious fallacy of falsehoods,
madly mocking me with condemnation.
It's branded me by burning my ears
with barbs that leave scars with its jeers.
Charred parts of me that will not heal,
my body is battered and bruised.
I'm sodden with tears as if from a deluge,
while over and over again the voice speaks out
with a commanding presence of clout.
Each tear cuts my cheek until blood seeps
from the crux of my soul.
Every drop falls at my feet in a scarlet flux.
Wracked with sobs, prostrate with weeping,
still the hissing voice berates me,
leading me further into silent shadows.
My head pounds from resounding jeers.
"I'm not guilty," I scream, even if it's a dream.
A vortex of eddies swirl at my bare feet.
I'm a helpless babe left alone on the street...
breathing shallow, but the voice will not fade.
Cold fingers reach for me
but no comfort do they bring
for the obstinate voice in the obsidian darkness
will not release its hellish hold.
When comes the hour of dappled Dawn,
I plead that she may take palpable pity on me
and touch me with golden rays of warmth.
I will linger as she softly whispers my name,
desperate that she can rid me of fear
and make the vilifying voice in my head disappear.
You’d cheated in the past, I'd felt so lost and alone
so I’m curious when you go outside to use your phone
Then you won’t let that darn mobile out of your sight
fallacious rows ensue; just where were you last night?
You say that you were working, you’re a jobbing builder
yet this extra work now gives me cause to bewilder
Then you tantalize me; say you’re telling the truth
and that you’re no longer bedding that floozy Ruth
I ask to see your phone, needing indisputable proof
that your affair’s really over between you and Ruth
You head for the door, and just turn your back on me
your continued infidelity is crystal clear for me to see
Next thing I know you begin packing your suitcase
say you’ll stay with a pal, that you need some space
The red mist comes down; I grab a long kitchen knife
plunge it deep into your chest, thereby ending your life
A vortex of scarlet blood splatters onto the kitchen floor
I eviscerate your body; as a surgeon I’ve done this before
Later I scroll through your call logs, to my shock and surprise
there's no calls to other women, you'd not been telling me lies!
Eight Word Challenge 7 Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
Words used Fallacious, Eviscerate, Curious, Bewilder, Plunge,Tantalize Vortex, Scarlet
6/21/18
Tom foolery,
Sparking intense anxiety
Led by panting and arguing
And violent door slamming.
A woman leaves.
Tears, gracing her eyes
A man recedes,
Fearful anger proceeds
An annoyed man
Sets out all his plans
His tools in place
His anger, as he tries to ease.
The woman, it seems
Goes out, not as pleased
Immersing in work
And in fallacious day dreams.
She, returns in the end.
The whole journey, disconnected
She ascends
A bell sings, and the door comes loose again.
Quiet ignorance, I believe
Silent treatment, ensues
For neither of them, I see,
Are prepared to yield.
A covert argument
A disastrous feat
Still bickering and droning
So nasty, that screech
With dusk, comes an epiphany
Love, silently revealed
An apology, both necessary
And indulgently concealed
The canker, it rests
As geese and gander lay down their vests
For an uproar that will accompany
Another sad and poignant apology
by
Amanda.M.Miller
Form:
Things beautiful are strange and fitful a lot;
Delicate, changing and entangled in a knot-
Now bright and the next instant rather dull;
Seeming complete just before being all null
The feel of alure and appeal that made it so
Is lost, or drains out just in a moment's go!
Aversion erodes what was so lovely and dear,
While evasion moves the inner straggling fear
To ruffle and void the crude, puzzling delight
Of freeing from the spell and its fanciful flight,
At once by choice and coerced, in potent power.
The drives to glorify, and make it immortal, lower
Escape into the virtual domain may find the glot
For the replica of the real with the missing plot;
Thus to hold on to times ever after,with instress
Using words, colours, chisel or muse to express
And the pleasing charm of the affected percept
Is rendered into a hypnotic,fallacious concept.
Is it wrong to be curious
Waiving scarlet badges as sleuths
When seeking universal truths
Dangling notions precarious
Willing to eviscerate all
Nimbly tantalize or extoll
Worrisome beliefs fallacious
Distorted enough to inflex
Then twirl in a blurry vortex
Dubious if not oblivious
Seeking truths and taking the plunge
Finding distortions to expunge
Two cents short of being delirious
Bubbling falsehoods bewilder
Bundled lies for the coroner
Is it wrong to be curious
Dangling notions precarious
Worrisome beliefs fallacious
Dubious if not oblivious
Two cents short of being delirious
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
He was clearly a child of evil and schooled with a single task to eviscerate people in the name of greed. The attendees were clearly frozen and the
speaker was well trained to tantalize his audience with his words and the tone of his voice. There is merit to being a questioner because the human mind can easily be pulled into the consuming vortex of expert rip-off artists. I was fortunate enough to be with a friend who is an expert discerner of fraud who
prepared me to beware of such lest I also be compelled to take the plunge into his whirlpool of deception.
Even I, a virtual novice at dividing liars from truth-tellers and separating goats from sheep became curious within 5 minutes of his speech. His promises had the smell of being fallacious, and too few of us were none the wiser having eyes able to see every color but scarlet.
The speaker skillfully used the movements of his hands and body language which easily hid the pathway to his heart. When his speech was over, the long line formed to shake the hands of a charismatic genius. He was by far a crafty and skillful bewilder of the lowest kind.
06192018PSContest, 8-Word Challenge, John Hamilton
(Judged 7"A Poem NA'd In A July Contest", Broken Wings