Long Fictitious Poems
Long Fictitious Poems. Below are the most popular long Fictitious by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fictitious poems by poem length and keyword.
If truth has its own thesis
That hardly needs emphasis.
If untruth's antithesis,
Post-truth's perhaps synthesis—
Untruth’s sis, and a miss so famous,
Year twenty sixteen’s pet amorphous!
If unstressed syllable is thesis,
The stressed one's known as arsis,
I need no stress, said thesis,
Untruth's usurped all the emphasis,
Her sis, the miss is much-crowned,
Post-truth pouts a visage frowned.
If truth a fulsome fact is,
And untruth though fictitious,
Still lives in relative ease,
And post-truth, a smarter miss,
And anglers' much prized a fish,
That might one day be a cherished dish.
We know, truth oft silent is
Faced with dogged emphasis
Of lie, who an ace sprinter is,
Faster anywhere reaches,
Where post-truth ready to greet,
Welcomes it in ways discreet.
Post truth may enjoy long lease
In this New Year in sure bliss,
It’d live a life of effort-less ease
Judging from how the mood is.
It fits the times like fine rhyme,
I’d say: post-truth be the mood of time.
The only hope for truth if hope there's:
A proven marathoner it is.
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Post-truth was the pet word of 2016. If truth is multi-dimensional as Jain philosophy believes, post truth is even more dynamic as this piece says.
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Happenings | 08.01.17 |
Don't you think you ain't normal?
How money becomes thy moral
Rather than thy character and behavior
Which don't hold into wealth-- its savior
Unless conforming to standard of principles
Set cum societal logistics-- the principals
Oh this new age makes it formal
I see, that's how you've had such oral
Love is fictitious, few mirror can reflect its tension
Heart beats for love, I wonder how blood builds in it its mansion
Mighty name is life, treating death like friend
Favor is of human on earth but only grace in heaven could commend
Watery ground beefing date, calling unto all; one by one
How often we forget to ever wanting earthly fun!
Altar guides meeting with Thee for forever to get secured
There, death's pain and agony will vanish and be cured
Of all sunrise I've seen, tipping point photographs chance
But only in Eon lies a pure off probability assurance
Laugh wipes inner tears, voice changes its gear
While smile only fake its look, trying to forget job undone so dear
Humility comes home... build for time been like foreigner
Truly, its state of being is confidential but conditioner
Can there be hope that sells fortunes for free?
Except in game where luck via suffering is the referee.
By night I write in silence,
like the quiet checkered board in the corner of my room
violently erupting my dimensional thoughts.
It haunts the hours I am awake,
through fake goggles of glory, you think you see me
creating fictitious measures of expectancy.
I pass you on the dirty streets,
behind the wheel of your material needs
you steal a glance,
and by chance you look the other way.
A loose thread curls beneath your sleeve
and you heave at the idea of imperfection,
like a cold stone dropped in a pond
a bond of nothing but a bottle of booze,
rings of empty energy ooze from you.
Reality’s clamor of modern life
echo through the corners of town,
nature’s volume turned down.
Like a clown you laugh in your big fancy shoes.
History has been painted on these pavements,
spilt out and absorbed by the years gone by.
Now shriveled up and dry you shy away,
from a connection that’s begging you to stay.
But you don’t look into my eyes
and you don’t see…
the marvels that journey through me.
A closed book hooked on gas and money,
green envy of collectibles
you clown, you think it's funny.
Why not walk without your shoes?
Open your eyes and look what is around you.
Feel the cracked ground beneath your feet
and look at the people in the street.
Form:
This is just another tale from the
crypt another one bites the dust I
guess she didn't make the guest list,
just another enigma, that's what she
called me when she couldn't paint
this picture but I say she should've
just drunk from another pitcher,
assumptions turns into to a failed
attempt to someone who could
decrypt ya thoughts actions
emotions, and weeks later it still
hasn't soaked in, so it seeps in threw
the cracks of past feelings but I
refuse to look back on my life but
still I envision the ghost of my past,
taking me back down memory lane,
but I know better my present is a
gift and my past is something I
wouldn't exchange, no matter how it
looks is that the reason I'm reading
so many books, I guess I'm looking
for the secrets that they hid, will I
find out it was indeed the truth or
another fictitious fib, so I open that
door that door without hesitation
knowing that if I expose the truth
they might send me on my final
destination, so it's do or die and my
life has an expiration date on it
anyway I understand I'm damned if
I do, so hello to sleepless nights
once more with no regrets as I
expose the truth
Tattered clobbered thoughts streaming to winged dusts,
spiral spasms tremble amid weary sounds.
The festal moods swing dreary interludes,
visions ache release with defloration--
throaty cries heightens the greedy man's lust.
He longs to possess the murmur of blood
from naked images throbbing desires,
it surges -- tinged to his cerebellum.
Dark libertine drained his desirous juice--
madness stings deep-- displayed to his ardor.
Boorish bashfulness etched into each itch
cracking unto his left to right onslaught.
Finitude fair Venus choked with disgust
as she wriggles, wriggles to free herself!
Her wriggles useless from black libertine...
Pristine Venus fallen-- now wanting death.
©O. E. Guillermo
5:15pm December 05, 2014
Sponsor Giorgio A. V.
Contest Name Structured forms - Iambic verse - Sketch a fictitious character - (Top Gun Poetry)
Placed 6th
In an evergreen forest
Surrounded by a lake
I owned a little cabin
Where my love I did take
Moss crept on the walls
Of the crudely built home
But in silent serenity
We could be alone
She loved it more than I
That place beside the water
She wanted to stay forever and a day
Or whatever proved to be longer
Simple living
Minimal care
Clean country breathing
In the pine scented air
The water rippled
And slowly swayed
During all hours
Of the night and the day
The woods teamed with life
And the trees filled with leaves
Birds fluttered along
In the gently blowing breeze
We couldn’t escape
This beauty astounding
We became one with the lake
Our hearts matched in their pounding
Enamored were we
With our quiet possession
But this love that we had
Turned in to obsession
Scared of the threat
Of having to leave
To go back to the world
Of death and disease
We clung to the feeling
Of everlasting bliss
Because while we were here
We could never resist
But late one evening
As I sat by the fire and drank
My love, afraid of departing
Walked in to the lake and sank
I realized too soon
That I had to leave
And forget all about
This so called serene
For it was not an earthly place
Yet not entirely fictitious
Just outside of reality
If you believe the superstitious
That cabin by the lake
That my love knew so well
Called her soul to rest
Was it Heaven or was it Hell?
awaiting interpersonal subsequent situation
aye tend to get ants
see when in the midst awaiting
said sub routine involving
outcome of circumstance
the parameter, perimeter, potentiometer,
et cetera extents
sifts out the destructive sycophants
versus real boot not nacho
munching macho gents
thus ipso facto fur cher
pro bono, and hence
gaining kudos for fas innocence
je nais sais quois joie de vivre personal aim
finds this lapsed passive pen sieve blame
less body electric alternating
between defendant versus claim
"FAKE" aunt Emma, who wrote to said
real or fictitious dame
purportedly gave solicited feedback exclaim
ming absolute zero tolerance
for acquiescent docile frame
within the real versus make believe
Milton Bradley board game
of LIFE as well my late mum (Chris Anne)
whose maternal sermons
included a ban
against blindly enlisting
into any sect chew will clan
purporting pretending posturing
as Dudley Do-right dan
sing with the stars amidst a Euclidean
Geometry auditorium,
where the glitzy dazzling audience
flush with many a fan
gnat tics toward a particular couple
said open eyed spectators
focused glazed eyes and grand
huzzahs on a man or woman,
who took charge hand
dilly directing his/her partner
acrobatic aeronautics inland
pro active with guiding he or she
toe till lee tubular counterpart re
speck ting decorum, yet pre
zen ting a choreographed production nee
an utterly out of this world with lee
ping skyward ward jumps key
pin equipoise holy jee
purrs, which scenario
analogous to taking bold
measures tubby
forthrightly assertive fold
ding arms crosswise
across chest, taking hold
din stance without conveying
a haughtiness mold.
I ask myself do you really believe
this, are you buying this. Only a fool
asks no questions about what he's
following, even Solomon in all his
wisdom he still fell hard and
shamed the name of God...looks like
I'm following after my ancestry, I'm
walking ass backwards I'm nothing
more than a Christian atheist I'll
admit it, so I try to dig myself out
this bottomless pit because still at
the end of this tunnel is forgiveness
if I can repent this, I'm a train
wreck. But sometimes you gotta go
threw hell in order to be able to
witness that Heaven isn't a fictitious
place, sometimes you gotta go
threw a little hell to show someone
that after these things your sins too
can be erased and God's grace
hasn't left you stranded. I'm not
right and it feels like everyone
knows it, this heart I have isn't right
it's been long overdue for me to
dispose it, conviction leaves your
heart & emotions exposed, but still
after these things there's still hope.
No matter what good deeds I do or
how Holy I think I am I'm still not
good enough, I came too far to give
up now, time to refocus on the
mission ahead, this flesh is
destructive and man still needs that
living water and daily bread
A train siren screams in the desert
Impoverished by strangers' intentions on board
Desert winds howl at a fictitious moon
As my door is rattling with ghosts without names
I jump into the passing train with my restless mind
What if I can't grab the handles and fall into the Abyss?
... Coyotes will devour my heart;
its heaviness will become theirs for Life...
Perhaps that's why they travel in Packs - to ease the pain
of lonely heart punctured by their canines
I see myself at the foggy window of a passing train
"Take me with ME !!! "
I cry as my train disappears in the water-sky of a Mirage...
copyright@iolandascripca2013
I often write some poetry, and I can fill a page
With some fictitious story that will hopefully engage
Your interest or your liking, but I know I never could
Create a made-up tale or find a true tale quite as good
As this—the most amazing tale that man has ever heard
The most astounding, great Good News, the true unchanging Word
Before creation there was Yah, His Son and Spirit too
They made all things we see around–the birds, the trees, and you
He made us and He loved us, even though He knew we’d fall
He knew we wouldn't listen and would not obey His call
So disobey we humans did; He banished us away
From Eden's lovely garden, and we went our sinful way
But Yehovah still loved us after we had gone astray
He sent His prophets and His Word to guide us in the way
He saved us from all captors and He fed us with His bread
But we would always scorn Him after we'd been freed and fed
So we continued sinning but His plan was far from done
Despite our wicked, sinful deeds He sent His only Son
To save and free from hell and death whoever trusts in Him
To bring from darkness into light—deliver us from sin
Though He’s the king—He made us all—He died upon that tree
For those who died, for those alive, and for those yet to be
He gave His life to bring us into unity with Him
To open up the gates of life so we can enter in
How can I tell how much He’s helped? He’s saved me; I’m His own
How can I list His boundless blessings? He will bring me home
How could I make a better story? What's more grand than this?
How could I live without my Savior? He’s my strength, my bliss
How could I tell what He has done or sing of all His praise?
His love’s beyond my mortal mind; I’ll praise Him all my days