Long Fishes Poems

Long Fishes Poems. Below are the most popular long Fishes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fishes poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Welcome To the Feast

A hearty welcome to the feast.
I’m your host, the rhyming beast.
Great dishes I’ve prepared for you.
Please try each one on the menu.
Start out with the parodoxes
in these pizza looking boxes.

The more of them that you consume,
the more your stomach will have room
for all the other poets’ dishes.
Try Anachronism fishes.
Have some fun.
Taste a pun!

You might like a synonym.
Its flavor tastes like cinnamon.
Yes, similies I’ve plenty of,
and many of them taste like love!
The homonyms are often suite
and every metaphor’s a treat.

Taste tropical alliteration,
juxtaposed for a sensation.
For Onomatopoeia – Slurp!
Otherwise, it makes you burp.
Sip relaxing imagery
in a sweet green herbal tea.

Perhaps imbibe a nice red wine
while on a limerick you dine.
There are many plates to sample.
Sonnets and Rondeau are ample.
Try Haiku, Pantoum, Triolet,
and Villanelle for the gourmet!

Free verse, I’ll tell you by the way,
is likely not Soup of the Day.
Eat rhyme and let your taste buds burst.
Let flowing verses quench your thirst.
The feast is an extravaganza.
Bet you can’t eat just one stanza!

For Laura Loo's  Best Rhyming Poem in March
March 21, 2018
Form: Rhyme


Hallucinations

An angel all in white with a red handbag
Seven priests all in black clasp their hands in prayer 
A girl sits on a stool with a wind up switch in her back 
I touch my face but it feels like glass 
An elephant stands on top of the world with just one leg 
Two fishes dressed in black coats walk their pet balloons 
A man stands on the nose of a plane before it crashes 
A girl jumps off a cliff into the universe 
Another falls from the sky with a clock and a bunny rabbit 
A woman grasps on to a clock carried by a black bird
A businessman floats by with a briefcase and an umbrella 
A woman in a white dress meditates under water 
A boy sits on the edge of the moon gazing at the stars 
Through the windscreen on an underwater highway a diver is seen following a shark 
A lonely girl sits on the steps while a black cat watches her from the bridge 
An astronaut gazes at the world at night through her window 
A shark swims in the air through the forest trees 
A woman in a black dress plays the violin while being swept away by a tornado
A girl in a pink dress is trapped under a glass 
A man stands on top of a school bus while it plunges into the ocean 
A bald eagle carries a piano on strings 
A little girl jumps into a mirror floating on the sea
A woman floats away with a handful of butterflies just like balloons

Premium Member My Kitty's In the Fishbowl

I watched kitty inch closer to the fish
For you see she jumped upon a desktop
First a stool, then to a chair and then swish
My curious one had no bounds to stop

Back and forth she tiptoed around the bowl
Front to side she shadowed the five Lil golds
I couldn't see kitty being a troll
Yet it's her nature to see what unfolds

I gave her a little more rope to play
After all she outgrew her mouse and ball
From trust she looked to see if it's okay
My eyes regretfully did say it all

Go, go and explore but please don't you touch
Let those little fishes swim swim in joy
Can Lil kitty please show restraint and such
Yet kitty did find a way to be coy

She waited for me to let my guard sway
She dove into the bowl and caught her fish
To my kitty it was only cats play
Now a puppy instead would be my wish 

7/10/23
Start Jamming Any Rhyming Form Poetry Contest
Sponsor-Eve Roper
Photo Chosen-Kitten Looking Into The Fishbowl
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Gazing Off

I have often gazed 
up at the sky, and 
off at the sea – sensing
a certain innate airiness
about me; told of relationship
between fishes and me – 
the firm of land perhaps
only relative to my thinking...

often restlessly pacing, 
soaring,
falling, 
drinking 
and sinking....

wondering further
if distant stars and galaxies
are not simply there 
to assemble and store

not just for direction...but more!

to ponder if the seeming infinite
may have other places for us to
visit and explore

perhaps realizing metaphysical tentacles 
far outreaching the common five men 
currently enhance for more

maybe dimensions of fantastical
experience, as revealed to humanity
even greater~sensing-repertoire?

Premium Member The Brook

The Brook


He lived near a brook
By a scraggly nook
So he fished every day
Using string and no hook.
His house made of sticks
Three stairs made of bricks
He sat on at sunset
And did magic tricks.
When the rain poured
Through the house he adored
He kept time with the dripping
Slept soundly and snored.
His dog was all matted
And over fed fatted
Would lie on his back
As he loved to be patted.
By the light of the fireflies
He’d do that strange thing
And fish for the moon
With no hook and a string.
He would watch the moon
Move about in the brook
And watch as the frogs
Bit the moon and it shook.
The stars sparkle danced
On the brook’s rippled face
To the drumbeat of crickets
In a hot weathered pace.
By the scraggly nook
Of his wandering brook
He fishes in dreams
With a string and no hook.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Feast of the Beast: Jan Allison and Lin Lane

The mean old housecat has bulgy eyes
when she looks at us in our fish bowl
Oh, how much we've come to despise
that big mouth of hers, the black hole

Poised to pounce with sharpened claws
She's taking jabs with hatred brimming
that ugly feline beast with drooling jaws
for us little fishes, innocently swimming
 
Our little bowl is cosy, room for only two
bad kitty on the outside, always looking in
If her paw ever grabs us, what are we to do 
we’d be much safer in a smelly sardine tin!

If she ever catches us, we’ve got big troubles
perhaps in her dreams she sees us as fat trout
In fear we produced a stream of gassy bubbles
If only our owner would give bad kitty a clout!
 
All the chaos made us soil ourselves with poop
so we let that mean old cat feast on a tasty treat
When her nasty tongue slurped intestinal goop
the beast screeched in horror! Revenge is sweet!

Our owner came home and cleaned out the bowl
Soon we returned to our safe sweet smelling home
Kitty got banned but can see us through the keyhole
Now we don’t suffer from irritable bowl syndrome!
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Eafer Trolls

The Trolls of NeighCassier smiled
as they undermined.
They acted sweet and welcoming
:but they were mean and rude and
unkind.
The evaluated situations with
prowess and assortment and hust
they made enemies of the dwarfingdores
and smuggled there squashes and stuff.
There women acted like witches
there men were shy and mean
they raided fields in the evening
and at night
they'd wear twigs to be unseen.
Potatoes and zucchini were
field sweets
they'd take from the farmers fields.
They help themselves to the smoked fishes
that were smoked and cured on reels.
When the witches of Worsten 
thristed for love and drink
they dress as there lovers
and rub there faces with garlic
so they'd stink.
They'd consort to make evenings
where men would dance and sing.
They corner potential lovers
with potions and spells
and things.
One rubbed a toad on
a trolls lips and asked him to kiss him
beneath the wreath.later on in the evening
when he was drunken and sleep
they'd go on to the homestead
and smuggle his hogs
and sheep
Toadwart he'd awaken
and not remember a thing
to find his livestock
and treasures
were taken he
would think he was jinxed.
To stay weary of the demons
he'd tie Ruppler bark

around a string
to thew it in the yards
of the witches
to had lofted him
with not ah thing..
Curses: curses he stand
there yelling.
While witches
mused and laughed.
Cooking up the grub
acting whorish and fass.
He promised he'd be redeemed
and cursed them with
a spell.
Then he left them heartbroken.
And went where Sorcers dwell.
Form: Bio

Paper Buckles 1-3

1.
any colour may be applied to the 
night-dress 

this city actually has no cart 
driven by horses 

before a pretty long time the shepherds 
had also told adieu 

by secret signalling the red-hat addiction 
called the pigeons  sitting on the broken sticks 
of the antenna to come nearer

on those dead-news the travel-story 
keeps awake by whole night 
 
and pours down on eye-lids 
clouds 
wrapped with cellophane
 
one day that wave sent 
rolling-down-on-the-back hair
to the yellow balcony

those are all ancient drama 

in the glow of the back-light you can see 
civic humps have grown up on the back 
of the birds every day and night

yet 
under the dead-stop ceiling fan the dance 
of the virgin reel wet with sweat does not fall short 

the paper-buckles with the flowers painted on it
gets more and more tight on the air of the throat 

velpuris of the evening 
offer full enjoyment 

2.
the night that comes all walking on the sands of the desert 
how much concern does she has about the navigability of the river 

when the husk of the water-chestnut is got open 
flowing down the waves bursting into a blaze 

to that flow is open the motor-car
the wan procession 
and all the fishes that want to go upward the wave 

so many varieties of floating 

if the matter of clouds be let off 
the multi-coloured fingers 
also have so many infotainments   

if the question of  moveable property is  raised 
it is only a suicide-note from my father 

and a knot 
in the robe of the blue trouser 

3.
the trees and creepers of the night 
and the plants and herbs of the day 
do all of them have the same blood-group 

there is much flora 
inside the jail-custody also 
and in this ruins of the old palace
 
how much is it justified 
to express eagerness about the geography 
of one’s character 

specially of the trees 
of the fishes 
or of the humans 

it is said 
all rivers 
flowing through the bodies of the great men 
are totally virgin 

there is also the blank desert 
on the silent snow-valley 
in the corner of your 
lips

Moisten Dat the Harlot

Bing informative
the SCHWA sound
become the topic of the day
Dipithong, Dipithong
ooh, ooh wee!
Schwa:schwa!
the Schwa sound
the schwa sound is destroying me.
T notch filters.
Try to spook the others
they used unsafe tactics
that caused people
to boo and jeer.
The Schaw sound
shall maketh  him
smarter
then he will never be in need
of these types of Chanagans.

Speakest Lammbeeria the Whorish Harlot of Dikkinism

Larghissimo!!!!!
that he shall streess in labor and shall be
poorest in Dipipothong. His streesses shall cause him the error
such oppurtunies shall allow others to have me as I am a whore.
Than pregant I shall say to him.
You'didist and now you must largemente with money. If this is real and I have no secrets. Denounce me that we have prominated on the shores of the Creeks and the ponds have feed us with fishes.
Drought the earthen shell fish-pow'da-pow-da, pow--dah !!!!!
grind the snouts to pow-dah!!!
Spoke the whorish harlot!!!!
Form: Ballade

Premium Member Unzipped Apple Core

Attention please, many fishes have been hooked by the bait 

They flutter their eyes, cross their legs and excuse the death rate

Desensitized by the detest, violence, and killings  

But then having the body exposed is way too chilling

Excited in all the madness, there’s no problem with all the gore 

After all, it’s in the history books and nursery rhythms lore 

Movies and television glorify all the blood lust 

It’s all good showing the body being blown into dust 
Haters and avengers will go and justify their cries
Self-Righteous amateur politicians with all the silly lies  

What is so horrible about verbalizing what love making is? 

Structuring different words to fail an anatomy quiz  

A banana cream pie is one of many metaphors 

Cultures unjustified rules adding to the list of chores

Updated 5/14/2019
© G. Jay  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

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