Long Fantasyold Poems
Long Fantasyold Poems. Below are the most popular long Fantasyold by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fantasyold poems by poem length and keyword.
"That's a dead triangle" the boy proclaimed without even a mention of his good name.
"Gotta smoke...?" the old man asked as he unlatched his case at hand. Pulling out sticks.
His time at the table to challenge the band, was upon him soon. His pinkie ring has an
onyx moon.
"You shoot lefty.... and a bridge is the quarter turn of a One"
"Seven sees four eyes of a sun....! You're good to move on."
What? There's a quarter turn on the horizon?
"The Angel isn't dead and the Dead aren't done...."
How many games have you played I asked him. His blue jeans were dirty and his hair was
thin. His hands were shaking as he drew one in... a long and steady breath, full of smoke
while his eyes sat firm. The hall was dim and around me I could hear the echoing players
call. I could hear clashing of the solidly striped balls.
Then without a reply, the old man turned his back to the wall. Removed his eyes from my
questioning stare and lifting his arm, took a shot through the air.
"Why am I here...." with the angels again...
Hey little girl, did you watch me play? I won that game the red head said. All I could do
was smile. Not knowing yet why once in a while, I'm confronted with strange realities, not
especially mine, but yours you see?
In her face with just seconds to spare I saw her life in a flash of red.... bloodshot.
Eyes in her head were not the kind I'm used to. Something about her ruby lips too.... the
elevator moved ever so slow as we stood there. Her towering height became quite,
apparent, my eyes to roll from my sight as I'm staring. Click please! Let the elevator
floor ding, I'm praying. I see her knees am I shrinking? I start blinking and breathing,
just waiting for the door to start dinging.
And then it did.
And the air finally came.
"Love an Angle and be quick on your game!"... her ruby lips flapping.
Then the red head was gone and I was still.Left standing.
76 tables in the den remaining...I'm exhausted when came
the first of a dawning while driving away in the morning, I realized...
I was called to the table, in play for their lives.
"But I'm not a man..." a whisper cried....
"Only sLight of a human inside...."
A fractal of Light now....
As homeward I drive, wondering how can it be?
As they're not alive. So what exactly, does that mean about me?
Form:
It was a dark winter night.
The fireflies were getting ready to come out.
The fairies were already sound asleep in their homes,
Except for Cinthya, the fairy princess.
It wasn't often that she was awake that late,
But this was a special night.
It was the night that the moon was covered by the clouds,
So that all the squirrels and all the birds wouldn't dare to come out.
It was also the only time you could see the Shroom Spirit,
A wise old being who is said to have all the answers to every question,
Or so the fairies said.
Cinthya quietly put on her coat and boots,
Making sure not to disturb anyone.
She grabbed a flashlight, just in case.
She made her way through the garden and arrived at the city limits.
She took one look back and kept going.
Cinthya went on for half the night, not keeping track of time.
After a long distance, she arrived at what looked like an old dwelling place.
She took out her flashlight and began to look around.
The place looked empty.
Only vines and trees lived there.
She looked ahead in the distance and saw a bluish-green smoke.
She turned off her flashlight and went further to investigate.
The closer she got, the louder her breathing became,
Until she felt like she was about to go insane.
One more step and there it was in all it's glory.
Cinthya began to speak, "Hello?" she said.
The shroom spirit came out of the smoke and looked right at her.
"Yes?" he said.
"Are you the shroom spirit everybody's talking about?" she asked dumbfound.
"Yes I am." he replied.
"Is it also true that you have the answers to all my questions?" she asked.
"It depends on what your question may be;" he said, "Ask and you shall know."
"I want to know who you are," said Cinthya.
"I am the Shroom Spirit," he replied.
Cinthya thought for a moment,
"Yes I know that, but why are you here?" she asked annoyed.
"I am here because I am," he replied.
Cinthya became very frustrated with his answers,
And began to turn away.
The shroom spirit vanished in a bluish green smoke and when Cinthya looked back,
He was gone.
The journey wasn't exactly what Cinthya was expecting,
But more like a twisted fairy tale.
Cinthya was ready to go back home,
And so she did.
THE END
I know it's coming, I have seen the night,
it's out there searching for a new set of
eyes. I hear it humming by, the light of
the old church and when you step outside
you feel as if,something isn't right.I left
you a message on the window saying
to be careful, this will be the night it
hunts in darkness, looking for eyes.
In the old church cellar victims lay, one
by one hundred are they, stacked side
by side ten layers high. In a storage of
molded death, you could smell the stench
20 miles wide so, don't be suprised
when you see it, just cover up your eyes.
I know he's out there watching, as a chill
from the nights wind hits me broadside,
then the hunt begins. It stands before
you, thirsting for body parts due it. I fear
it will come at daylight, while I am awake.
I hear it mumbling the names of souls it's
here to take. It's standing there on the
corner, underneath the steet light.
I get this wierd feeling that, something's
not right. I left a prayer for you, in front of
your house and it needs to be read out loud
It just might save your life you might make
it out. In a time frame, hence it might find.
The tasteful fear it smells as it pours out of,
your mind. It spreads its wings and takes
flight, takes what it wants then, it leaves
flesh without thought as it disappears in
the night. One by one hundred laid out in
a cell as, it came bursting straight out of
hell but, not a soul did I hear dare yell,
you feel it in your bones that something
not right, you wake to find you woke in its
darkest night. No formal invitation needed
just, bring your fright. Most of all bring with
you if, you still have them, your eye's
Robert Hernandez/David Bear
In the grand days of old let the truth be told/
Those ships and mate's in plight,
With ancient fool's who had launched in an all night battle !
The one who stayed alone and quiet would lose/
A much happy time of old !
Mediocre drawn beers as an angry mob grew bolder !
For the little troll would oft' loosen his undergarments ?
Ready for a fight/
Along came a black knight !
The little troll found himself a bit helpless among the resistance,
In the distance a land far to quaint in which to behold,
Try to filter out the sorrowful resistance/
A castle promptly built for the proud and noble !
What was once thrown down into the rubble,
Yet still my heart beats a bit frantic now ?
Torn in the midst of breathless moments/
We suddenly captured a sweet glimpse of heaven,
But then to suddenly leave again !
With fallen trees of fern and elm,
Then suddenly the sword pulled out of the lasting storm !
With gentle onlooker's to approach,
A vining warrior with hidden spear inside,
Traveler's visiting from the East would often run away and hide ?
Yet what had hit me from my blind side ?
Was it the heavy notion of a wizard living inside ?
A darkened portal that had come to light !
With a famed court prince on some winged plight/
Along comes a big dragon with a focused intent,
Outside a winged servant was inclined to viscously launch out into the night/
To enlarge his welcoming with some frantic fright !
Amidst the hidden turmoil of the given plight/
With the great task in which to make all things right !
The madness of the cats began. They came from Ulthar and
Singaloon, in my dreams, and from cellars and old steeples by day.
By Day! I saw the twitching tails snake madly, as yellow eyes
glared hungry and I feared for my flesh.
You think I am mad. But you haven’t seen the horde of furred
demons crouching in the shadows of chairs, squirming out of closets,
heard them yowling in the old barns.
“They’re after me,” I cried to my wife, but she only purred.
“I need a sedative, anything to help me sleep," I told my
doctor, but he only offered me a saucer of warm milk.
I called the police, and they just suggested the Animal Rescue. I
told them what I was going to do instead, and slammed down the phone.
My wife mewed insincerely, till the rat poison finished her.
My next-door neighbor asked too many questions, till I distracted him
with cat-nip, so that he didn’t see my knife.
Now the police are outside, they want my rifle, and think
because I am only a mouse who cannot climb trees, that I won’t fight.
Let them come in. The buckshot will make their fur fly!
The days of my youth is over,
but I have stored my memories
in a memory box.
Today I opened the box,
so carefully and looked inside,
there at the kitchen table,
sat my dear grandma having her
morning coffee, I said hi grandma
she said Jimmy Foulk so glad
to see you, do you want some
breakfast? I said sure, and we
ate until we were full,
grandma I love you so,
but have to go now, see
you on Sunday.
I walked down the street
on East Street in Grinnell Iowa,
and there on the front porch,
was my dear old shep
the dog who I loved so
tail wagging, he greeted me,
kissing my face like
never before, and I hugged him
like I had never hugged a dog before,
uptown at Rexall Drug store,
I saw a nine year old boy
who I knew was me,
I said hi son, any good
comic books? The boy
said sure, this one is real good,
I looked him over knowing
that this boy had a life time
of growing up, said my
goodbyes and left,
opened door to
memory box,
and left knowing that
there would be other
days to visit my memory box.
wrote 8-3-08
There was an old man, a collector of sorts
Who made his living off of the dead
Through the obituary page he'd earn his wage
Buying things that others had shed
Though some said his job was just morbid
Preying off of the people who died
It wasn't a natural death that took their last breath
But only those committing suicide
He bought the things that nobody wanted
For most were scared of a haunting or curse
But he didn't care he would always be there
The same day that they emptied the hearse
He was the only buyer at the auction
For everyone else was afraid
He just couldn't wait to steal their estate
And count all the money he made
'Til late one night while sleeping
Awakend by a bump in the night
At the foot of his bed stood a multitude of dead
As his heart stopped beating from fright
The old man had turned up missing
They found claw marks deep in his floor
The people couldn't wait to pilage his estate
For the old man wasn't seen anymore
I would cut through the old cemetery
But this is Halloween night
Don't want to wake anyone up
That would really give me a fright!
I've heard the place is haunted
Don't want to take that chance
So I will take the long way around
In this special circumstance
But looking over my shoulder
I see a disturbing sight
Bodies rising up from their graves
Scuttling about in the moonlight
And now they're coming after me
I've got nowhere to run
My short legs don't pump fast enough
Wishing I had a gun
Glancing back I hear them there
They're moaning and screaming at me
As I cut through the darkened plots
I can barely even see
Help me someone-they're lurching towards me
I'm running as fast as I can
When suddenly I find myself
Right back where I began
In front of the old cemetery again
Where are those undead now?
Hope they went back to their graves
Phew! I saved myself somehow!
Once, among the daffodils
Stood a shy old tree,
I said 'Hello, old friend'
It rustled a reply to me,
'I hurt, as you can see'
'Why is that so, I need to know,
How do you hurt? I asked,
'You look sublime,
Limbs are fine,
Fit for winter's task
'Looks deceive,
You must believe,
In solitude, I stand forlorn,
Once I stood with other trees,
Now their lives are shorn'
'Some were aged and hewn away,
Others, for reasons unknown,
Yet, here I stand
In forgotten cheer,
I ask, why am I now alone?'
I stood in silence,
Hand on bough,
My new friend was in distress,
Surely, an answer must be found,
'til then, I bear unrest'
A thought occurred
Of long ago,
This tree upon the hill,
That once it urged my love and me
To pick the daffodils
'My friend, stand proud,' said I,
Alone, you will never be
For many a lover upon this hill
Will ever remember thee'
Form:
So old the pages, fragile and worn,
Delicately I turn them, looking, wondering,
What was written on these pages before.
Some ones story, or just facts treasured.
Why did the words disappear, what happened?
The book was so carefully wrapped in cloth,
Placed in such a beautiful box, time tarnished.
It must have been very special to the owner.
Can't do it, can't just get rid of it.
If stare long enough maybe will see,
What made this faded paper so important.
Sad and frustrated at not knowing.
Wrapping it up again gently, have decided,
To replace it in the tarnished old box.
Some ones words, treasured, have disappeared.
Maybe if kept safe they will return for the book.
DOREEN CYR
OCTOBER 17
Form: