Long Febrile Poems
Long Febrile Poems. Below are the most popular long Febrile by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Febrile poems by poem length and keyword.
I, William Shakespeare, was granted a chance -
Travel in time left me speechless for once.
« The question of to be or not to be »
« Yes » landed me in 2023.
I yearned to be your favorite because
I divulged vast range of mankind’s flaws.
To my distraught dismay in nowadays
Fifty grey tinges cast shade on my plays.
I scramble through your modern terms alright,
Some give me goosebumps, some - a febrile fright.
Queen as a drag?! Bottom line offenders!
She and he turn « they » as gender benders.
The question no longer « to be » but who -
Entitled to a designated loo!
How far the world transitioned from above
Of Romeo and Juliet’s tender love?!
From online hookups, fast food, Amazon...
Can't wrap my pen around what's going on.
Descriptive language gear not hard to find -
Too rapid for my literary mind.
I worshiped every word with utmost bond,
Now google search is poets' magic wand.
If 1500’s were so well equipped,
Renaissance all together would be skipped.
I doubt if I lived now I'd have the will
To waste my fleeting fast pace on a quill.
I shall not fathom merging life with thee
As bestowed gift of 2023.
To Stratford-Upon-Avon I belong,
Where my pulse beats along immortal song.
January 8, 2023
I hardly brew coffee alongside the metaphor of
English mornings blended with summer’s febrile breath.
But, on this occasion, I did....
It was a stifling moment on television.
The social media was abuzz with the hiss of
Integrated journalism. I hated this moment I failed to believe myself
Upon the altar of this recent toponym. BREXIT.
The name plinks with resounding voices, exerting that energy of
Political consciousness.
Lexicographers must hasten it into the dictionary
Before the return of Christ.
Must be cooked in the crucible of NOUN and
Heavily spiced in VERB.... And then, play host to nimieties.
It’s plainly a matter of exiting the circumference of a common, dancing market,
Where freedom of movement spins the web of twinkle-toed arachnids.
My coffee whiffed with the Brazilian hegemony
Upon the Indian scheme of teas and secular drams of rum,
And Iran’s love for green tea.
Summer’s mornings are difficult, I must remind you.
Waking from the posts of work and a bivouac
Stretches the eyelids beyond groggy eyelashes
With the haste of a speeding dawn.
But the TRUTH remained salient and voluble:
BRITAIN HAS VOTED TO LEAVE THE EU.
And it’s not a hypnagogic matter.
It has no business with amphigoric journalism.
It’s a British-fried piece of truth.
Are you kidding me?
I find it totally execrable when people say what they do not know,
Rather than ask what they do not know.
Sunday Times spread its pages to annex some truth.
So did The New York Times and Washington Post and the
Community of tabloids – all tried to
Squeeze out the sprinkles of the matter from collapsing firths.
There was no trace of Churchill in this BREXIT fiesta.
Even de Gaulle exuded remedies of a fractured Europe; he remembered
The WAYWARD WAR, whose frenetic winds blew us no good.
My coffee, black and gold, with the supple bubbles and yellow froths,
Welcomed the degree of weather forecasting.
Will it rain?
Will there be isolated thunderstorms across the EU?
Will BREXIT brew some heat? Slanting showers?
What Celsius does a degree reach before there’s a
Pandemonium?
DID YOU MEAN POUND-EMONIUM?
HAVEN’T YOU HEARD ABOUT THE CRASH OF THE POUND?
The love from these bigger versions of him is unparalleled
he has dad, mum and big sister, what an absolute colourway
for making his important existence temporize
the heavens know he needed this care, gratitude to his spokesperson
jumping from breast to chest to shoulders, what a bliss!
Passing through training, well cooked and garnished
enjoyment in full, even when comfort is febrile.
Comfortably picking his traits while on a piggy back
fine growth, in steady calibration is ongoing
oh no! Bigger is he for these pillars to gradually fade
another is born, the break is permanent
now a broader shoulder he is, the acquired strength he must revive.
peppy porcelain puppy poops on the floor
wacky winged walrus whizzes on the door
enigmatic eonian elephant espies some bamboo
clever castrated cormorant shrieks yahoo
brassiere-busting bonobo barfs on the table
maniacal mystic monkey freaks on cable
sly sonambulent sloth bear slumbers in his cave
natty naughty nutty newt nests in a wave
dizzy ditzy doormouse dances with a broomstick
tawdry turgid tiger toys with his joystick
rugged recondite raccoon races up rut-marred roads
finicky febrile frog farts on frightened toads
this sonnet celebrates sassiness midst sundry incantations
~ surrenders to insanity and scoffs at punctuation
(i.m. Kathleen Shaw)
The flower face of the sun bloomed on you,
the corona of light
easing the passage, caressing you.
Catwalking on the bright side of life;
the false jollity, aching to laugh.
Embraces, your body in a bowl of arms,
brave waves, the last goodbye.
My own desperate clutching, as if
I were a tree sucking at the sky.
The delicate frosting on my birthday cake -
a sugary irony.
How quickly the coronal of anniversary flowers
became a wreath.
Choking on the three hundred miles
to your resting place,
the car eating the road.
Tension-riddled, the family squabbles
snapped at the air.
Alone in the pristine, starched hotel room,
propped between pillow and sheet,
stiff as rigor mortis,
my eyes ploughing a newspaper,
thoughts turned introvert and febrile.
A white envelope holding the small silver gift
of your necklace, an oyster cradling its pearl.
Your gold ring playing its warmth
on my finger, thin and white,
the September sun shining in it.
A passion flower clinging to its wire hoop,
sweating out the fragrance of late summer.
Defiant and slightly shocking in my bright patchwork skirt;
a vibrant rainbow flying in the black leer of the cortège.
Your husband
easing the great weight of his grief with valium.
The voice of the vicar carrying,
stentorian, across the echoing expanse of church.
In your diaphanous dress you were a bride
embracing your bouquet -
the mourning arum's white head bowed.
Fine linen shrouding the table, pink curls of salmon,
water glasses floating their tiny icebergs.
Plumbing the depths of your wardrobe,
the outfits hanging limp as fish.
The room gasping in late sunlight,
heady with your Florentyna perfume and oxygen cylinders,
the light lying glassy and quiet.
Your loving memorabilia yielding to damp autumn earth.
My eyes opening to your immortality. An immortal truth.
Abominable barrage bombards
fortified barracks show
warring subsequently, incandescently,
and brilliantly doth glow
biden time, this
garden variety Joe Schmoe
hunkers down deep amidst disarray
within arched bunker poe
wet tickly donning
pence sieve stance against row
battery weathering incessant assault
invariably waiting for Godot,
albeit devout atheist doubting Thomas
suffers major blow
wavering, vacillating, undulating...
ominous foreboding,
viz more'n one circling crow
decries status ranking sincerely
truly posthumous hero
reconnaissance delivers...
yup absolute zero
looming dark shadow
futile against inconsolable sorrow
anonymous bookish deadened
erstwhile febrile fellow
good as gone, cuz yours truly...
fresh outta ammo
resigned killed in action
another unmarked grave
housing lovely bones
courtesy contemplative bro
charred body foretells, know,
and promises not one daisy will grow
despite fervent obeisance
soul fully do I futilely bellow
worse fate than death
i.e. gulag archipelago
feebly decrying, lamenting,
lamely pleading against
bleak unfair in apropos
sentence never granted furlough
never to witness celestial amarillo
beatific, cathartic, fantastic...,
nor chase gold pot end of rainbow
all pleasant dreams, I must forego
seek neither fame nor glory hobo
content whiling away (Billy me)
idolized time solitary Homo
sapien re: me tortured afterlife
enslaved forever guilty "fake" pharaoh
moans... suddenly joyous tears flow
aforementioned psychedelic mashup
figment of imagination - psycho
illogical gallimaufry, hallucinatory,
and illusory expo
attempt lame analogy how I wallow,
when setting sail
to launch crafted poe
whim, whereby invisible
battle scars attest
successful amphibious ambition
inundated battling lightspeed tempo
competing ideas exhaust
thus, I seek comfort of
soft cloud like pillow!
“Heady heights..bright neon lights..giddy delights
Arsonists torching the Indian empire
Reputations scorching..awash with brilliant whites
Gilded generation ire… spoils soiled in an oily quagmire
Sailing the conquest crest..Kiwi veneration..scaling Test Everest
Perturbed…wondrous walloping to disturbed lolloping..absurdly dire
Otherworldly umami of the Barmy Army tsunami
Marauding sneers trumpet.. foolish career nadirs..retire
Ghoulish gravity..devoured by a glutinous abyss
Bazball belter depravity..sensationally soured bucolic bliss
Hoodwinking..hasten Black caps helter skelter sinking
Downed & drowned in a bottomless basin..stinking
Hilariously or nefariously bombastic
Bellicose blows vicariously fantastic
Lambasted & larruped..willow wizards’ blizzards
Scary..leery…Kiwis dreary..wary..weary
Boisterously babbling record book pleasing Brook..
Febrile lairy timber & turnstile teasing fairy
Frazzled dreams bedazzled by pyrotechnic memes
Peacocking cavorting with shocking ripsnorter slaughter
Lampooned buffoons marooned…as Jaffas deliriously spill.. festooned just like Seville
Bazball booming batting baritones..delicious blooming blossom
Vicious..nailed..pernicious.. flailed like an impaled pesky possum
Stranded in a leaking latrine…Baz branded..reeking of what could have been
Outrageously courageous…ridiculously sublime at the same time
Flat track thuggery fortuitously free from spin skulduggery?
Cosy club snubs…mandarins’ selectorial sins?
It’s coming home..it’s coming..in Welly on the telly..what we have seen
Prodigal Bazball from South D has already well & truly been"
My manic thoughts storm my mind
Dark Fantasies feed my febrile body language left broken and bereft, borderline psychopath.
Damage from adulthood infecting my Creative adolescent mind.
The inchoate storm is still too young and weak, but maturing quickly.
with an insatiable apatite always hungry selfishly feeding on my conscious, sucking out the nutrition it needs.
Claiming my conscious as home base, without my permission and rent free.
The Storm rages on deep in my conscious
Growing bigger and meaner, turning me unpredictable and out of control.
I missed all early signs and symptoms all the subtle changes in my 5 senses.
How did i miss the coulours becoming washed out faded and dull?
I cant even remember what fresh air smells like, the feeling of freedom in the summertime. Gone.
What happened to all the good sounds? Now techno s in my ears.
All these subgld changes no matter how small, collect to became the overwhelmed adult mind.
Taking all the colour and fun leaving a dark gray world.
I didnt watch the horizon, i didnt head my mothers words.
"stay young while you can." shed say. Now i feel creative-less and responsibility comes before fun.
I didnt watch the horizon, and now the inchoate storm
is fully formed.
And my Youth has grown old with age.
All of us should know by now that there’s one race:
The Human Race. Narcissism and nepotism
Are destroying the very febrile fibers of our society
Greed and narrow-mindedness, at an increasing space
Are eroding our soil like mites devouring the mechanism
Of our ingenuity. This is odious. What a sad and sorry pity!
Freedom is about being at liberty to do things on our own
Freedom is about being in control of our destiny
Freedom is about using our God-given talent to be
And to do whatever inspires us at dust, at dawn
Or at any time to make the world a better place for all
Freedom is about exposing the lies and walking tall
While telling the truth in the best interests of the planet
Freedom is about saying it like it is, on the internet
In the newspapers, on the radio and to all the media
The nocuous system comes now and then with the craziest formula:
This one is lighter than you; that one is darker than you
This one is thinner than you; that one is bigger than you
This one is dumber than you; that one is smarter than you
This one is shorter than you; that one is taller than you
After meticulously reading the final analysis, you and I are the same
We all belong to the same Human Race, we need to be tame
In order to comply with the principles established by the Almighty
Otherwise, we become mentally dumb, vainglorious and really cocky
Freedom is about breaking the inessential chains in our brain
Freedom is about unclogging the flexible pipes of the dam
Freedom is about going straight to the sources
Freedom is about utilizing our best resources
All of us should know already that there is one race:
The Human Race. And for all, there’s plenty of space
Freedom is about improving things for a better and safer society
Freedom is about creating better filters to help the environment
Freedom is about respecting the fibers and the colors of humanity
Freedom is about enjoying the neoteric air under the firmament.
Copyright © August 2023, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Foppish fringe flutters..pianist tendrils tinkling..
Flitter finessing leathery fruits..
Caressing..stitched dreams tickled & tailored..
Swing..swerve in clandestine cahoots…
Curve…voluptuous velvety verve..
Wobble seam serendipity tempts..teases..
Sliding across creases..angle architect gliding..
Heaven sent tyro riding blazing trails..
Hellbent brio…Waggers & Trent..Timmy trio..
Touted trinity…selector trifecta..febrile fan affinity..
Tim’s timber hoicks topple Toblerones..
Schadenfreude stats sips.. Oiks suggest Timmy..
Ersatz Test imitator of Jimmy…
Naysayers…tut tutters spew from trolling gutters…
As Yoda may say…"Devil may care..unfair..flair in the air..this bowling pair share..'
Muffled murmurs of the goat..Hadlee float…gracing grassy notes..
Timmy..go on gimme one final shimmy…
Dare to dream…it will end.. as it did begin..
With that boyish grin..just beam..old friend