Long Faster Poems
Long Faster Poems. Below are the most popular long Faster by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Faster poems by poem length and keyword.
*Image of Hellboy II: The Golden Army by Wallpaper Flare.
AUDIO: Tip; Right-click on volume then click on Loop of the drop-down menu for continuous play.
The Gret of Regret, Soliloquy
I remember, but naught too well, the first time of Hellboy, an earthy creature, a-must-be, heaven would naught have created a being such as he, and after all, he's naught an "it", oh no, for he thinks -- methinks, much too straight-forwardly and on his feet to boot. Move before they do and always get to the upper hand of things, seems to be his John Madden playbook of the '70s. Why bother with logic and reason when Hellboy is dealing with fragile minds bent on world conquest.
The Golden Army, the Hellboy movie I've seen some years ago when my kids, were kids -- and I being the eldest. Vagueness plagues me to no end, but the inkling gist was a brother and sister duo, but sadly, naught so much so, for sister played her own brother and teamed with Hellboy instead. The telltale sign envisioned in the frat's eyes, being the wherewithal, their Ides of March to be -- in arrears, of betrayal. To be undone by the one, by the very one.
Life can be fleeting but we came to know that honor fleets faster. Though the appearance of its angle for the perspective of the movie was considered simply as a sidetrack sorta thing, yet in and of itself, became the films main attraction, piquing interest within the audiences already situated in full enjoyment of the twist, and how it will all play out in that, edge-of-the-seat moment. Alas, ambiguity wins at the end, for death did occur, but whose? Naught Hellboy, I'm certain of that!
2022 January 28
*2nd Place*
Mignolaverse
~~Robert James Liguori: Judged 2022 January 31
Like a slow-moving westbound wagon train in 1887,
filled with brave souls departing a land of nightmares; or like
a 13-year-old in no-man's-land looking at 18 and wishing he could
push a button capable of fast-forwarding at least 5 years; Or like
a lazy and lonely Sunday afternoon without scenes or sounds.
Yes, it felt like the sands of time in the hourglass were made of snails.
It was a time and place never loved by me, but it was where my story
began. It was the blessed home of the privileged few and the very rich.
It was the unfortunate abode of the underprivileged and the very poor.
It was a piece of American geography that never felt like home to me.
My best dream was that time would grow wings faster and fly me away.
My primary goal was to depart, not be from there, and never return.
Wind moves the leaves,
green, orange or other colours.
Waves move fast as the fish swimming.
Fast as the years
we fly day by day,
dreaming about something is lost
or is going to happen.
Fast is the moment we forget about the invisible,
there where is still a light.
Going down there into that spot,
where nobody wants to search.
We live the years that go by,
without playing our best move.
Moving as the clouds in the sky,
nothing to be appreciated.
Instead,
we should care about that toilet role paper
that, as life,
when it becomes its end,
it looks that it finishes faster.
Be aware about that scenery,
where you don' t want to be in,
because as fast you are the best actor,
you can become the worst.
I’ve often danced a dance with death
He’s often beat me out of breath.
With every step his grip took hold
But he got angry as I was bold
I scream in pain my body rife
And yet I pray for my kids and wife
Behold my wish to see them here
My family and relatives as I hold dear
I’m dancing faster now with death
I’m fighting hard with every breath
He tangoes faster and twirls me round
I look confused no one around
My head is spinning, He sees me weak
His final steps he wants to sneak
His tango now no more a dance
I see his stance and cast a glance
He is dancing dangerously close
Will he deliver the final dose
A sudden smile forms round my lips
A sparkle shines right through my eyes
I see my saviour no disguise
My saviour has now joined the dance
he takes me in his tender arms
we dance now at a slower pace
The peaceful rhythm shows on my face
My heart beats softly and more steady
No longer racing I am ready.
Grant me peace and set me free
Deliver me, upon deaths tree.
The recent, decent, authorised remaster -
now deeper, fuller, meaningfully vaster,
it’s done its fifty years – this one’s a laster!
I don’t care if you’re reggaeton or Rasta,
you worship Satan, Seti, Zoroaster -
just play this baby for your priest or pastor –
it’s early Fleetwood Mac, but cooler, faster –
so get it grooving on your ghetto blaster!
Abandon Grand Theft Auto, drop your Dune,
and scrap your Patti Smith and Patti Boone:
just get more Gilmour (boy, that boy can croon!)
and Roger Waters, nicely out of tune:
the rest is paltry. Daltrey’s picayune.
I’ll meet you on the Dark Side of the Moon!
Don’t be fooled
(practicing lyrics for the keyboard)
Don’t be fooled by those
Who pretend something is new.
Don’t be fooled by the world
Going faster than you.
Don’t be fooled by the words
From the tongue of a snake.
Remember who you are.
Your life is what you make.
Don’t be fooled
Don’t be fooled
Falling in endless pools of sorrow
Today is what matters
Be blessed with tomorrow.
Only a fool will wear a mask,
Live by lies, playing the game.
Never truth for one who asks.
Time for quitting, foolish game of blame.
Don’t be fooled by a stranger
Or anyone in disguise.
Don’t be fooled by what you think you want
You may already have, learn to be wise.
Don’t be fooled.
Don’t be fooled.
Falling in endless pools of sorrow.
Today is what matters.
Be blessed with tomorrow.
The day will come, you will look back.
At the twisted turns and choices made.
Whether a gentle journey or race track
Or with regret for what fear stole, afraid.
The wise will be smiling forever
At the glittering presents of memories.
The fool will be crying so silently
Tears in a puddle, blind reflections, bare trees.
Heidi Sands
A people lost in time, in the lands of Saladin.
Trapped in a slow world, that's spinning faster.
Drowning in their confusion, they cry out,
none are heard, ears of hatred stay unaware,
they reap the harvest of fear, without mercy.
Seeking fruit from shadowed endeavors,
without form, draped in death
Nursing on swollen breasts of religious fever,
nurtured by Ayatollas, who wear the tarnished key to heaven.
Preaching rage,
words are a cloak to be worn as protection.
Everyone hated but true followers of their religous zeal
books are burned, intelligence becomes dead leaves,
to be swept away with yesterday
by brooms of self-righteousness.
A Holy War,
where children suffer, their minds bent.
Another generation lost.
Another generation confused.
Another generation caught in a time,
they will never understand.
1/12/16
Y is for young and her years never show
A is for appreciation of all you have and know
C is for cuddles and those intimate moments we cherish
Q is for quick and there’s no faster wit (all others perish)
U is for upstanding and taking care of yourself
E is for excellence: and your drive of inner self
L is for luck, but she prefers blessings
I is for indispensable, always near those distressing
N is for nurturing: to all that need her presence
[Y]acquelin is in love with a man
[A] romance of May and December
ya[C]quelin is muy hermosa
yac[Q]uelin I will always remember
In an awkward moment I lean in for a h[U]g but refrain
sh[E] started to [L]ean in too, but she too restrained
Do [I] offer a hand shake, she too did hesitate
We say “it’s good to have see[N] you” as I watch her gait
S ay it like you mean it with your smart phone or by way of social media
I ntellegence of the artificial kind is becoming very attractive way too fast
G lobal Prositioning Systems are fine, but smart cars are driving me insane
N ext time you need a taxi, you best make sure it comes with a human driver
O pposing forces with diverse objectives demand acceptable compromises
F acts, in our day, appear to be less crucial than the way we feel about them
T axes, it seems, must be levied whether derived from the dead or the living
H istory speaks to those who listen, and hindsite is 20 20, but what veiw can be better, faster, and smarter than cellphones?
E xit stradegies should be determined before engaging in potentially explosive geopolitical conflicts
T he seige has already begun, the antiquated walls will soon be breached, and good for nothing or not, we will have wars.
I nformation stands alone begging to be placed in hands of the frugle, the pure, and the wise.
M isguided and unsuspecting followers have now been bewitched by deception and greed.
E mpty promises can be easily detected if the masses would only bother to question and verify.
S ituation ethics always leave a trail of tears and sorrows for the next generation to wipe away.
04232018PSContest, Sign Of The Times, Hamilton
My lips uttered a sound not heard before, a bird trill.
I was amazed, for I had grown a beak, and knew I was an eagle.
This is new I thought, and my knee is heeled up.
I could walk, but I decided to fly instead.
Bull! I heard my muse scoff in my ear, so I locked her up.
I did not need a naysayer today. I was taking a solo flight.
I soared out the window past my lilac bushes.
Their aroma was exotic and erotic.
It was still a bit dark outside, for sunrise had not appeared.
Shall I head for a sea or the mountains?
I live in Chicago, land of wind and lakes.
Today it was pouring rain, but that was no surprise in April.
With a quick whip of my beak I looked to the east.
The sea would be faster that way, but the mountains are grand.
What about Kansas? It is not tornado weather yet, right?
My muse had unlocked herself and was here in the flood plain with me.