Long Flash in the pan Poems
Long Flash in the pan Poems. Below are the most popular long Flash in the pan by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flash in the pan poems by poem length and keyword.
He is "half a bubble off of centre"
More than "A few bricks short of a load"
He is not a Prince worth kissing
He is more of an ugly toad.
Some think he is "Rock Solid"
A veritable "Mountain of a man"
Instead he's a snake Replacing a ladder
Nothing but a "flash in the pan"
You'll have to "hit the nail on the head"
For "he's not the sharpest tack in the box"
If you don't want this jerk to catch you
I recommend "pulling up your socks
If you think I was "born yesterday"
Or "I've got nothing to lose"
Instead of "Drinking the koolaide"
You musta been guzzlin the booze
For I am "the man of your dreams"
Look my way I'm "Love at first sight"
Forget that other "good for nuttin" fella
I'll "rock your world" "forever, a day and a night!"
Under the starry sky, where thoughts float like incense smoke in the deep night,
I feel the shiver of fear, like cold water flowing over my soul, deep and silent,
I just wish to stretch time, to embrace the moment like a wave kissing the shore,
I feel the shiver of fear, my dear, and I just want to keep balance in life's storm.
We fear what we might become, the shadows of doubt dance on the walls of the mind,
Is it just a flash in the pan, or is our love a hearth burning with eternal flames?
Questions dance in your mind, like leaves carried by the winds of late autumn,
Is it a fleeting night or a path that carries us beyond the horizon, endless?
Your thoughts are like an echo resonating in the depths of my being, unknown and vast,
Are we in a rush, filming multiple scenes on the same reel of our destiny?
Are we ready to enter the game, to place our hearts like pieces on the chessboard of fate?
Are we prepared to fall in love, to explore how deep the waters of true love are?
I feel the shiver of fear, my dear, but please, trust and take the leap into the ocean of faith,
Together, we can transform fears into wings that will carry us over mountains of doubt,
Let's step on the path of love, to discover what destiny holds for us, step by step, hand in hand,
Under the starry sky, where dreams are woven from stars and hearts sing their eternal story.
#One should be cautious in starting a war, but
once begun, it should be carried out thoroughly#
#Quote by Hirohito circa Dec 1942#
Onslaught
As little boy fell over Hiroshima,
a demigod dismayed how it grew
Into a fat man above Nagasaki,
Hirohito said, so I’m the devil too
Both are one, and the same person,
to say otherwise is splitting atoms
When two suns appear overhead,
an emperors duality, cannot fathom
And necessary evil is a dubious sin,
willpower making its choice that day
Expedience worked saving millions
I’m firmly on the side of Enola Gay
Reckoning came, not a flash in the pan
for marching POWs to death, at Bataan
Also, Pearl harbour, Iwo Jima, Guam
Midway, Okinawa, Tarawa, and Saipan
Job’s done, the mission accomplished
a time to celebrate, peace be strong
our conscience does not need absolution
obliterated by belief, we did no wrong
Little Boy/Fat man, US code names
for the atomic bombs in WW2
Pick-A-Title, Vol 32 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Prompt chosen Onslaught
07/11/22
Oh my darling I met you on here
I will love you forever
never looking at another
you are my whole wide world.
Bah! what a load of cods wallop
dream on enjoy your fantasy
for if there's one sure thing
it will all end in tears.
Love takes time to grow
if it is to last.
It needs nurturing
and time spent together.
What one gets on line
is just a flash in the pan
sweet talking words and
maybe cam sex, are no go.
Love thrives on challenges
thrown up by everyday life.
You have to experience both
the good and definitely the bad.
Anything else is an illusion
although seeming sweet now
I have seen these internet affairs
that explode in wild passion.
Yet where are they six months later?
gone like a puff of wind
the canvas torn apart
the illusion shattered.
Bah! its a load of cods wallop
a fantasy existing only in your mind
sweet at the time to be sure
but when it ends someone is in tears.
While their so called love
moves on to someone new
its all just a game
and some play it so well.
1/18/17
Among so many rocks and leafs
As well as animals that squawk or squeak
Talk is cheap
Many things considered a dime a dozen
Like limes and onions
You're either with or against the clock
Whether it is continually making sense or not
At times it can all truly
Be quite the doozy
Frustrated with seeing cruelty
And people acting unruly
Along the way
Is it wrong to say?
Every dog has it's day
They can make glass from sand
So much became a flash in the pan
Whether or not there ended up being any cash in hand
With my own flesh and blood
I express my love
While I step and trudge
Through different depths of mud
Haste makes waste
Across this place in space
You may or may not have your while life ahead of you
Just remember idle hands are the devil's tools
Near and far from special sentimental jewels
Realize there have been many kinds of metals used
Near and far from different sea levels and pools
The outcome may have been preventable
If such things weren't placed on a pedestal
By: Dalton Ogletree
I rejected form.
I rejected meter.
I rejected editing.
I rejected reading.
I'm a flash in the pan.
I'm fueled by emotions.
I'm emboldened by scars.
I'm challenged by time.
I wonder how far I could go
if I took the time to study.
If I sat down and honed my craft
and took pride in my words.
I'm certainly no prodigy.
Every verse came at a cost.
Perhaps I'm finally paying the price
by stagnating in my growth.
I let my fingers write.
My mind is actually blank.
It's just a silly white canvas
that never blossomed.
I never once toiled.
I never once struggled.
If it was hard I just gave up
and deleted the verse.
I'm told I write prose
rather than true poetry.
Maybe I don't understand
what the difference is.
I never had any talent.
Writing was my safe space.
Now I have to wonder
if it was ever safe at all.
Admittedly I rejected effort.
I didn't want to actually try
When the minimalist approach
seemed to work so well.
I'm not a prodigy.
I'm not a genius.
I'm not gifted.
I'm not published.
I dreamed of the glass ceiling
but I never dreamed of breaking it.
Maybe I'm just damned to always look through it
and see writers much more dedicated than I.
I made omelettes without breaking eggs.
I created houses with no foundation.
I sang songs without reading the lyrics.
I baked cakes without a recipe.
I don't want to sound entitled
but my writing deserves to be better.
In twelve years I should have accomplished more
than using these poems as tissue paper for tears.
In 2007 I was just a kid
writing five to ten poems daily.
That effort got me noticed
and I shared my verse with crowds.
I was driven by ambition
and fueled by emotion.
All I wanted was adulation
when all I had known was the gallows.
This is the last flash in the pan.
Fleeting emotions can't guide my pen forever.
I do not know what the future holds
but no longer will I be complacent.
I am a writer.
I am a poet.
I am a lover.
I am a fighter.
This is the swan song
of my old poetic style.
With eyes on the horizon
My pen will ever be furious.
Do you think you have a right to actually intrude
as if you have the right to say what children they produce
your objection a flash in the pan and you’ve nothing to lose
just ensuring you deny the individuals right to choose
enslaving them in your mindset now that is called abuse
talking with the moral high ground that is legally refused
when the individual knows what’s best and you haven’t a clue
because you have no right to involve yourself in what they do
enslaving people mentally to keep them inline with you
America boast it’s freedom that it always denies too
slaves in the land of the free and abortion laws are true
who felt incorporeal storied power
of Herman Melville as zen unseen aid
instructing hypothetic rich kid to drop out of school
before his/her first grade
coz of all the money he/she made
which affected modus operandi rendered obsolete
child worker laws
and no sweat of brow getting paid
people used bitcoin (or other online currency)
additionally making purchases
with scant keystrokes to complete a trade.
As with any major dramatically novel scheme
light bulb idea scribbled on napkin
scrap of paper
via cheesy or whipped cream
originating as a flash in the pan
aha eureka moment, or dream
as rough blue print subsequently
underwent beta testing,
before declaring pc innovation supreme
whereby outstanding persons in the tech industry
clamored to join Kidde team.
Whether seventh day add vent
hissed or other religious creed
powerful binary processing
impacted near
earth shaking incarnation indeed
and ramifications in all walks
and talks of life sought expert need.
Coven chanting children murmured Luddites be damned!
Thus spake Zarathustra (cue the opening scene
from Planet of the Apes)
upon witnessing as if king or queen
(in reality father or mother)
didst get immediately
dethroned thus, increasing mean
average positive
effects on society, especially lean
microchip i.e. integrated circuitry
miniaturization "green"
technology (and eventual
attendant affordable price)
viz said trappings
unleashed upon global market
invited absolute zero dust, a must clean
as a whistle work space,
and manufacturers laboratory be microbe free
hermetically sealed vacuumed "clean".
Countless portable machines
unbeknownst soon epithet florid hack
coining impromptu called cyber crime
especially as majority proportion of population
didst purchase these dime,
a doze in countless "end users"
snapped up these smart machines
excitedly keyed away indifferent to gunk
on unwashed hands
plus bits of food particles
eventually caking hardware with grime
(eventually necessitating technician
charging gobs of moolah
sans to unstitch in time.
Still, and again
“Ogongo” crept into my mouth
As I behold the two nocturnal creatures
We have waited endlessly
No longer in my Aunt’s place,
But we became unsolicited watchmen
At the streets gate entrance
It was an ungodly hour
Darkness had key to everywhere
Still, and again
I winked at my cousin
He nodded, and murmured
“They are on their way”
But when midnight started knocking
Out of the furfuled dusk
Appeared the two nocturnal “Ogongos”
One bringing back the memory of the famous Yokosuna
Of the Heavy weight with an heavy duty
To her chest,
Were a very big size-less eve’s apples?
Her mean look compliments her dark complexion
Her burnt lips. . . Reddish eyeballs speak of her as a chimney
My cousin I pity from within my heart
Her hyena-like laughter
Turned me back to the second “Ogongo”
Of a lesser weight to the former
Her Eve’s apples were almost not there
“Bad catch, worst choice”
I echoed to myself until I saw
Her roundly shaped protruding buttock
Speaking louder than a loud-speaker
It overshadows her duck-like ugly mouth
It was an undeniable asset
Indeed, the “Ogongos” are both endowed
With a Unique Selling Point (UPS)
With these, I had taught they can never
Run out of good prices in the market.
Lo and behold,
At the crucial product delivery point
I rushed out of my room
Only to see my cousin outside too
Looking worried and dejected
The “Ogongos” are over-used products
The expiry date lapsed long ago
The USP was a flash in the pan
We both slept in the parlour
Leaving the “Ogongos” in their different rooms
It was a bad deal in a bad day.
Alayande Stephen T
09.55am
20th June, 2007
NB-Ogongo is a coinage for Prostitutes.
In Iba, with Ayo and Yemi, expecting
An Izobo daughter and Tobi’s call.
March 10, 2019 - Daylight Saving Time Starts
The homey nimble storied wisdom of
Benjamin Franklin still
admired during hour time,
especially noteworthy, for slime
molds, the second Sunday of March,
when theft linkedin with
(Ides say) most innocuous crime
re: stealth of precious sixty minutes, hence
a flash in the pan idea to expound rhyme,
which notional whim came like bolt of lightning,
while daydreaming 'bout (what else...but)
flying a kite during stormy (Daniels) clime.
thus, once again twilight
takes quantum leap
forward hut, our humble keep
sake hour hand of time
grudgingly advances without beep
ping, ewe know who of little lamb fame,
what with barely audible lil bo peep
predicated, asper in taking away thirty six
hundred seconds of sleep
subsequently marking
second Sunday when e'er deep
into Lion of winter month o' March rolls
around with least amount by Dickens
plaintively asking Uriah Heep
to crank up AC/DC dirty
Harry deed done dirt cheap
cuz, this tradition of sorts
supposedly doth reap
economic benefits plus
Circadian rhythm less steep
difference with contrivance
issuing Whatsapp hapt'n when leap
pin lizards such Iam
motioning carillon to alternate between
sepulchral and refulgent chime
creating less discordant
dilly dally dichotomy
reverberates all the way to Siam,
while aye blithely tapped out here
yours truly 'ere at his Schwenksville heim
taking poetic life (in hour hand)
liberty at pursuit this prime
mate takes to hash feeble
verse to eke out a dime
probably more realistic for me
to ply blimey hands with grime,
now suddenly bedeviled what to do
soundlessly communicating woe
whiz mere (mein kampf),
sans displaying mime
as a last ditch effort before time
to call quits with this futile rhyme.