Long Fizzles Poems
Long Fizzles Poems. Below are the most popular long Fizzles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fizzles poems by poem length and keyword.
If today were in fact the end of days
We'd face it with no scintilla of anxiety or sadness
because our fate is in God's hands
I'd leave absolutely nothing unsaid
between us; no time would be wasted...
morosely waiting until the day fades
into nothingness at the stroke of midnight
I'd kiss you a thousand times, if not more
and I'll never leave your sight
until the very end, my sweet.
We'd seize the day; fireflies in the night sky
We'd take plenary advantage
of the spectacular here and now
and make each moment glitter like gold.
Oh, what fun we'll have, while it lasts
We'd throw a mammoth going-out party
With our near and dear ones; a party to end
all parties. I'd take solace in the thought that
we'd be together when the day
quietly fizzles out like a whisper in the wind
The love I have for you would grow
exponentially, and explode
like a stick of dynamite, better yet, a bomb
We'd lie on the bed of roses I made just for you
and gaze upon the countless stars in the sky...
for the very last time! We'd sing
and dance under the harvest moon. If separated
by an ocean, i'd somehow magically make it
back to you, in the nick of time
so help me God
Submitted for...
STRAND SELECT 10,any form ,any theme Poetry Contest(Winner: 2nd Place)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date: 01/12/2020
"What If There Was No Tomorrow" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One (Winner: 2nd Place)
Date written and submitted: 08/21/2019
In the middle of the night,
When I’m struggling with sleep,
I come up with many plans
That I know I’ll never keep.
I’ll replace the sagging couch,
Sand and buff the parquet floors,
Get new valances and shades,
Paint the ceilings, walls and doors.
Add A/C where there is none,
Trade the bunk beds for a queen,
Go through closets, drawers and shelves
Like it’s part of my routine.
As I toss and turn and think,
With a vow to make each change,
I’m aware that what I’m planning
Doesn’t seem so very strange.
But as soon as I awake,
My resolve, a tiny flame,
Fizzles out and so my world
Stays unstylishly the same.
I see Maya as a video game
If its software gets decoded,
No more a tiger, life looks cat-like tame
If source code’s breached, its secret spread.
By mere digits, by dots and dashes made,
Innocence still’s no bliss, but shame,
Where so knowledge burns bright if ignited,
Fun fizzles out and life walks lame.
If players we are in a pre-planned game,
Let Maya a magic toy be.
Peas prosper well in a pod’s confined frame,
A man purblind looks, scarce can see.
If ignorance is child-like innocence,
To bask in bliss, I feel, makes immense sense.
___________________ ___
Sonnet (Tongue-in-cheek) | 04.11.2016 |ignorance, bliss, joy, world
When summer sizzles energy fizzles
you can fry an egg on the sidewalk
New York city cooks like a griddle
it's too hot to make small talk
there's a place I know where you can find me
it don't cost a dime come on up and join me
when midday swelters pavement's melting
yellow taxi cabs gasp for breath
it's so hot my brain feels like popping
even my shadow starts to sweat
if the Jersey Shore's not your scene
can't take the crowds come on up and join me
got my sounds got my shades
got my cooler got it made
I could use a little help with my suntan lotion
so tell me who needs an ocean
up on Tar Beach overlooking city streets
Tar Beach leave your cares below
if you want to beat the heat
Tar Beach NYC is where we you an' me
Tar Beach is where we can go
A shooting star streaks from on high
like a kamikaze firefly
whose fiery death's mandatory:
upon grazing Earth's atmosphere.
Yet, there's no time to shed a tear:
for its blaze is transitory.
Its trail of sparks can mesmerize,
as it plummets to its demise.
As in a fairytale story:
its epithet soon fizzles out.
Yet, its beauty's never in doubt:
darkness amplifies its glory.
A shooting star streaks from on high:
and its descent warrants a sigh.
A blaze of sparks lights up the night,
yet vaporizes in a flash:
ending its suicidal dash.
It's such a spectacular sight
that folks cast a wish upon it.
But it'll vanish lickety-split,
so the timing has to be right.
If you don't cast it straight away,
you'll lose your wish: so don't delay.
It must be cast during its flight.
A shooting star's destined to die,
and yet in death, it achieves flight:
burning its way across the sky.
Fat is easy
Thin is hard
When sugar is in your favorite candy bar
Soda it fizzles so sweet
Cakes pies and cookies are such treats
Candy is dandy on your tongue
Deep fried and Southern crispy give me some
Doughnuts and coffee with sugar and cream
Whole milk and toppings on your ice cream
White bread and mayo
French fried potatoes
Heavy syrup in your fruit cup
Extra butter popcorn eat it right up
Lots of rich gravy
Room for seconds and thirds maybe
Maybe? Pour pour that gravy
Chips and creamy dips
Shudder if no butter
Barbecue meats and glazed honey ham
Toast loaded with extra jam
Bacon by the pound
By pound pound pound
You are what you eat and that's a fact
Fast food hamburgers pizza are snacks
If it aint greasy
Make it extra cheesy
Add it all up and you eat fat
Add it all up and you are fat
Drink a diet soda
I stand upon cold sands of lovers, past
surveying, bleak, the misty metaphors
a crimson blush of hope so setting fast
its wake left by a tempest on this shore
seems only yesterday I found this place
the grace of callow yearning, underfoot
a pulse of passion showing love its face
and leaving but an ash of rapture's soot
the shadow of my spirit grows enraged
this ocean, love, was all I longed to sail
yet now the season of my path is aged
as all my moonlite fizzles wan and pale
and so ...
I'll lay my joys upon these sands to stay
forgotten not 'til time has washed away.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "Any Rhyming Poem In April" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Sponsor.
~ 5th Place ~ in the "Mid April 2018 Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Sponsor.
The thing I must do’s just the thing I can’t.
It’s my artistic nature, I suppose.
Impatient, volatile and – heaven knows –
disposed to overthrow, subvert, supplant,
less drawn to things that are than those that aren’t.
A deft, exquisite ode trumps plodding prose;
four hours of labour, twenty of repose.
An acquerello, limber, quick, you’ll grant
is more attractive than your slippery oils,
since easier to manipulate. You see,
I’m not the turgid type that, tortured, toils
for excellence unshaped, illusory.
I’ll take it if it surges, fizzles, boils
and masters me. If not, I’ll let it be.
BE MERRY
be merry, not blue.
blow your nose, no boo hoos,
dot your eyes.
i’ve provided an embroidered,
lacy handkerchief —
the old-fashioned kind,
that pulls up your bootstraps,
tickles your fancy,
almost too pretty, kind,
leaves no red streaks
creates smiles, not weak
and the square is perfumed
with a childhood scent
that twinkles your eyes.
gregarious giggles
cause your shoulders to shake,
put a kick in your step
as you decorate and bake.
the sweet little cloth
wipes the surliest frowns,
stirs up
cordial sentiments —
hug from mom, pat from dad
a round-robin of Winter friends,
a cup of hot cocoa,
the thrill of a visit
from reindeer and St. Nick.
be merry and bright
through the darkest of nights
be the candle that shines
in the window. its fog
fizzles into a magic act,
replaced by a happy gait.
be merry, wear a cherry
on top of your head, be
not faint —
have the gumption
to lead the sugar foray.
keep your square
and encourage
each cheek
of its kissable quality
its unshakable victory —
a marvelous merry awaits!
12/14/2020
To handle dreadful time, to cherish it
although I have no gall for such-
past the ennui of night’s workload,
this jive which I embrace relentlessly
fizzles like soapsuds in my nails;
a voice quelled with the dirt of blue mood…
How lethargy chokes me, its tar roasting
my senses humid as air, more apt for birds,
that I cruise along an alley where piano tunes
with acoustic strings invite a certain madness--
the scent of rhythm and blues perks
ached limbs, gradually tapping a free
movement pleading abandon…cheeks lighten,
enthralled by an opulence of notes;
till I scream, yes, time, though you're a dreadful bane,
I will hold you wildly, once again.
1/6/2018
For Craig Cornish: Blue Contest