Long Farce Poems
Long Farce Poems. Below are the most popular long Farce by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Farce poems by poem length and keyword.
Fighting Tuesday’s boredom,
he decided to play a game
And because he’d never done it,
he decided to test his fame
He mouthed the most nonsensical words
with imagery askant
Then wrote them down from right to left,
a backward forward rant
To see if then his audience,
could make sense of this ruse
He published in the New York Times,
for readers there to muse
To his surprise they cheered and raved,
and called his name out loud
And said that T.S. Eliot,
from his gravesite would be proud
They found deep meaning in every word,
each rooted as a farce
And saw an abstract Moby Dick,
within his dark discourse
With pen in hand he pushed away,
and leaned back in his chair
And scratched his head in wonderment,
—at the myth his fame could bear
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)
The mountains rose in its climb
tall and dangerous outcrops created over time
the images imagined of earth and weather unrefined
and hovering along the cliff's ledge
clung the vision of dismantled countenance and its edge.
A soul longing for solutions
easily ignorant, disfigured by earth's pollution
where cloud and sun and sky dared ask why
the laughter and the tears must be cried
in the farce of tragedy and comedy demise.
There aching with regret
came visions of the circus stretched
when elephants, tigers, and bears
played freely without a care
and in the background stood the clowns falling down.
The smile to tears once could make all of mankind laugh
but here at the precipice lay unchanged history cast
the clown, a trickster, the silent harlequin of the past
edges cautiously along the extending precipice
of the earth disappearing into the dark abyss.
for Kai Michael Neumann's contest
Clown at the Abyss
3/1/2020
Not just WTC..
KG has to be..the OG
Saffa Jaffa gaffer….sole goal
Batters harries
Carries..never parries
Weight and expectation
Fate & soul
Of a whole nation
South African speedster larder
Is choc a block
Marco..new narco tyro
Already a believer
The length & strength
Octopus tentacles
Mr Tickle tendrils
Hefty lefty lever
But their rock..Dr Spock
Shepherd of the flock
Heir and leader of their
Racy pacy flair armada
No one tries harder
While looking so smooth
Ultimate slick quick pick
KG Rabada
Scolding batters..stagger..folding..
In tatters..crickey in the groove
Flatters…moves like Mikey Holding
Forget the coke farce
All swagger with the ball
Didn’t choke..Kagiso in full flow
Dagger and cloak bloke..VIP Pass
Follows champagne Steyn
Morkel reign and the
Vernon sermon..Philander propaganda
Trier…Makhaya fire campaign
Pollock bucolic frolic
Vibes of Donald diatribes
Finally even the scribes subscribes
Imbibes this latest great
Pips the rest
Fastest to get 300 hundred wickets
So hot to trot…beats the elite lot
Oh and also got the best ever..Test strike rate
But a little glummer..the bummer
No home tests this summer
Just such a shame..some disdain
Dumber mandarin sins as they kowtow to the cash cow
Meaning Kagiso will fail…no way will play enough games
To end the fat stat tale
Reign of Dale Steyn
Oh and a lovely final aside
Not only did they lose the race
Aussie doom and gloom
But the face of pace..Rabada the ace
Became only the second name not from mighty blighty
To grace the hall of fame hordes on the
Home dressing room boards at Lords
Old man looking over at me across an empty park bench,
He was slightly smelly, unkempt and I was uncomfortable.
And he sneered at my paisley tie and at my penny loafers,
And I saw his own toes were wiggling in the open air.
Then the old man laughed out loud, sprayed the air with saliva,
He said, ‘I’m sorry to deprive ya of any form of dignity.
‘But once I was just like you, a slave to the corporate.’
I said, “Don’t be a hypocrite. Give me the benefit of the doubt.”
I said, “You really should not judge, walk a mile in my shoes.”
So, he stole my shoes and I haven’t seen him since.
Now I don’t know what the record is but it’s less than four minutes
And the odds are diminishing that he’s going to return.
And my feet are getting kind of cold and I’m looking pretty silly
Almost kind of like Achilles, with my skinny ankles sticking out.
At least he left my wallet though he took the cash I carried,
But that’s almost customary any time you’re being robbed.
And he seemed very nice once he got past his emotion
And his preconceived notions of who I had to be.
I said, “You really should not judge, walk a mile in my shoes.”
But he stole my shoes and I haven’t seen him since.
Isn’t it strange that we can’t change.
But then again, maybe we can.
But on the other hand… nevermind.
I don’t understand.
The cops weren’t very helpful, they were too busy laughing
At the people photographing the wiggling of my toes.
And I have learned my lesson though it’s painful to admit
That I cannot even outwit a drunk out on the street.
I say, “You really should not judge, walk a mile in my shoes.”
But he stole my shoes and I haven’t seen him since.
I sigh when I watch men and women
just sit home drawing unemployment
when they are fully able to work.
Such benefits make me paranoid.
I see: some seem so sure just swimmin’
in hope that their shallow enjoyment
will thrive despite misgivings which lurk
in a mindless, a fatuous void.
Say: “Fee-fi-fo-fum” on congressmen.
What hope have we once our government
sets rewards for citizens who shirk
common sense? It’s Welfare on steroids.
I'm so disgusted, in deep chagrin
that such a farce can misrepresent
our nation. As an aging young Turk,
I don't know when I've felt so annoyed.
July 11, 2021
Beams of sultry light.
Reflecting dim flight,
As fireflies flicker and swarm,
Cascade around my form.
The book reveals its worn pages.
Drifting through the ages.
Memories of bygone times.
The splendor of those rhymes.
Shiny satin ribbons of blue,
Reminding me of you.
Turbulent foaming sea.
Homeward bound to me.
Gratifying my lonely soul.
Rebellion over hot coal.
Seeking soft secrets sublime.
Yonder mountain to climb.
I spy the look in your eyes.
Brilliance so wise.
Vines entwine creeping.
The willow is weeping.
Listen to the sound of tears.
Hear the sorrow of fears.
Adorning my quest.
Beholding the rest.
All the best has gone by.
Feeling my sigh.
Touching my heart.
Tearing us apart.
That treacherous sea.
No longer a part of me,
Drowning my dreams.
Falling apart at the seams.
I time to reflect,
Time to resurrect.
Floods my being.
Not worth seeing.
The butterflies gone..
Must carry on
Silver band all that’s left.
I am bereft.
Lost my way.
What did you say?
Now you care.
Do I dare.
To wonder why?
Love is a farce,
The blooms are sparse,
Love’s luminous light,
Shines excitingly bright.
Everywhere but near me.
My sightless serenity.
Woven lilacs dipped in dew,
Cast to the wind so few,
Mild scent fills the air,
Aroma of musk everywhere,
What can I expect?
Is this a time to reflect?
A child alone in the dark,
On a journey to embark,
Free from oppression now.
Liberated somehow.
Childlike innocence bestow.
They will never know.
Her dreams are wild.
She is just a child.
Growing fast.
Life must last.
Primordial being.
The angels were seeing.
Her life slips away.
A child of yesterday.
No more will play.
Just a forgotten run away.
But somehow, I did live,
Someone had a life to give.
There were no bouquets.
Not sure who to praise.
Sullen lights eject.
It’s time to reflect.
Their ma & pa were Eastenders
Blah blah..don’t remember the Blitz
Lit the bonfire..won't call it quits
Make even their kids crazy..like nits
Hazy troll scroll hits
Society in bits due to fascist fits
Dimwits just going on benders
To the nutter gutter they descend
Quixotic pretend patriotic defenders
Horrific hateful slurry..getting lippy
Like their tan..the glory of a tandoori
Sh** hypocrite story…more in a hurry
For a plateful of curry.. than a Mr Whippy
Or a trip to the chippy
Oblivion.. foster an imposter roster
But brag..as minions from the
Dominions opinions they gag
No refrain from disdain campaign
Vain..inane..insane Reform reign pain
Yet bet still the norm to holiday in Spain
It’s a farce..you are working class
Toffs scoff..no VIP pass
Stop.. just being an ar*se
Fooled..fueled and ridiculed
By public schooled top brass
Belligerent…militant instruments
But insolent..indolent & ignorant
These refugees are innocent
No different…like you a descendant of an immigrant
Tomfoolery cash for a stash
Of bold gold jewellery
Sold their souls at the polls
For whom “the Bell” (hotel) tolls
Farage barrage racist goals pepping
News airs..or views flares
Dares from their speakers
Roles of shoals of brash proles prepping
Mass of thrill seekers going for the
Kill in crass flash sneakers in Epping
Due to the "colour of your skin"
"No room at the inn".. spin
"Don't let them in" chagrin din
Charlie snorted...no parley
Reported we have resorted
To getting it sorted by them being deported
Cardinal sin..won't let them win
Cos Asylum Seekers they are schlepping
Honestly, when you said I’d have
my portrait on Main Street, I didn’t expect to be the
city laughing stock.
You let that kid paint me like this?
That silly smile on my face, as if I were,
half drunk on catnip?
Do you take me for an idiot?
I’m am a proud member of the genus,
Felis Catus; not some cartoon.
Garfield, would even be offended, by this farce!
Really, do you think my legs are that twiggy?
And where’s my fur;
is it growing inside instead of outside?
And when have I ever had those
triangular pumpkin eyes?
You paint colorful spirals, bright green moons and
color burst abstracts and me as a stick cat?
Would you like it if I drew you like that?
Alright, you’ve had your joke;
now, erase that thing before you ruin my reputation!
I Wait With Bated Breath...
(slack jaw froze mine countenance
when eyes blinded with figurative
daggers asper mistakes in original draft,
hence...this flood proof, fire resistant,
and fever reducing error free version.)
(yes...yes...yes, this rhyme
resembles a recent one of mine
from a previous time,
yet appropriating wands zone writing
haint no crime -
at least not yet!)
Okay bull heave me you,
at this moment
alm completely unaware
what the a muse zing
genie of poetic
inspiration will bring
possibly shelving what Calliope
holds in store for me,
meanwhile now
with impatience it ching
visa vis to discover
what this Earthling,
(albeit modest) will be amazingly
graced with pizazz, meanwhile aye fling
haphazardly, indiscriminately,
and jocosely blitz
krieg feebly attempting
to contrive ingeniousness emits
poetic prestidigitation in fits
and starts, sans "FAKE" wits
as this humble
human imperceptibly orbitz
around mister Sun,
(which about bajillion years
from now suddenly quits)
shining foisting misery,
where Nyx knocks
(paddy whack give
my dog a bone...) divinely,
knowingly and spiritedly visits
(believe me you) this trumpeting
stupid moron loser
forever doth taint
after this moment
(no need tubby saint
lee and suppress any quaint
gut wrenching chortle)
at what aint
no farce), nor literary feint
yours truly painfully,
sorrowfully, and verily avers,
he now lacks fire and fury
(as if nettled and docked by burrs)
nonetheless, which ambition
dust hanker mink thinks furs,
and foremost (Tom
morrow i.e. purrs
sues tha owl mighty,
where fame posthumously spurs
me amidst pantheon
of great writers
which dream dashed
into a million,
(no...no...no...not
bajillion this instance,
though good guess) pieces
abysmal silence replacing
(palimpsest like),
mine over active imagination whirs.
Suffusion of sadness so tender,
What I yearn for lies inside.
In bed you await me,
Together we will hide
from those who think we have a choice
Or that one day you'll be gone.
Believe you to be transient
A bus I can hop off and on!
I marvel at the swell of you
So familiar yet never the same
I know you'll never leave me
Nor your power ever wane.
In bed I shiver with anticipation
For you're my only truth
All else is farce, and only in your arms
Can I cry as I did in youth.
Accepting life would mean losing you
So that line will never be crossed.
Pain, my faithful, constant lover, Pain:
All that remains from what I've lost.