Long Flatly Poems
Long Flatly Poems. Below are the most popular long Flatly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flatly poems by poem length and keyword.
Not too long ago, I asked you for a date.
We could go out together and have a time that is great.
I politely asked you if you wanted to go.
You flatly turned me down by saying "no".
Friends have been telling me more than once or twice.
What they have told me was not very nice.
I heard what you have been saying about me.
It's about time you faced stark reality.
Look in the mirror; you should realize
that if you use your own eyes,
you yourself are certainly no prize.
Life goes on as we travel down the road.
I considered this just another sad episode.
May I suggest you not refuse any more takers.
They will be harder to find than Studebakers.
On the day of the Lord the human shall fear,
A terrifying god whom will Christians duly Peer,
The dead shall live again - the Christian tear,
A monopolising Christianity that cannot hear.
With, or without, all people are flatly, truly loved,
Without malice or tub, to jingle coyly ungloved,
Whatever the decade, decision, rubbed, tugged,
A transcendental god shall ring these beloved.
Talking clouds blown by earth’s graphic might,
Pose for the distant, scathed by a distinct light:
Enemies rise n’ fall as if tugging the dark night,
Offsetting the juggernaut of the ready birthrite.
A thought for people, bound, wet in eye-glare,
Principles, claims and chains won’t be the fare;
Nothing will work except behaviour and blare,
To suggest an ascent coloured by another wear.
All people are of inherent and fully equal worth,
God dies again for the decliner’s identity of birth,
Inside - not as proactive, with his mobile hearth,
A blacklist deceives those fleeing their childbirth.
Dominique Webb
I grew up proud to be grandma’s favorite.
Some little rules were broken, I must admit.
These were all but childhood caprices.
At youth, my ego was broken to pieces.
When flatly was I refused love marriage.
Settled was I to be with one double my age.
No place was there for protest or discussion.
A puppet was I dancing in a procession.
My lover desperate, gave me his last word.
A step by me has to be taken, all I heard,
To wipe all the drama, if I wish, like a broom.
Faced boldly then did I, my to be groom.
In one deep breath I poured my heart out.
His face paled, looking almost knocked out.
I stood firm and mutinous, ready to retaliate.
With a force in me none could annihilate.
In dignity, my engagement came to end.
Lost prestige and shattered ego, hard to mend.
Slyly, Grandma put a word looking for time right.
There was only one way to escape this plight.
I was called before all to express my wish.
Cost me a lot to convince I was not selfish.
A simple wedding I was allowed, in a fortnight.
But happiness was mine on my wedding night.
27/07/16
Contest: The rule was begging to be broken
(A fortnight - 2 weeks time)
Win 2nd place
Dear Lake, why lob here atop a mountain
when the lowlands are so superior
with more catchment area to fountain
more rain to fill your vast interior.
Alpine aspirations for altitude
are worthy ambitions for rocks and crags.
But not for frigid lake in solitude,
except for the art show reflection brags.
The air is so clear and crisp on calm days
that lake reflection is a masterpiece,
perfectly mirrored portraits it portrays
of rogue mountains smiling, posing, at peace.
Up high, here, nature's sounds are rarefied.
The air is so thin, cold and flatly grim
that any birds flocking here to abide
are stage-struck by silence, the lake's own hymn.
The weather has no foibles and hindrance.
The winds and rain love to shatter and spoil
the reflection galley hung in silence,
wrecking the scene and creating turmoil.
You could climb a tree for a treetop view,
but, way up here, well above the snow line
there are no trees, only meadows for shoe,
so I dive in clear blue water, sublime.
Colorful fish defy the location.
To them, whither the lake is high or low
matters little in this wet world nation
all immune from rain, hail, wind, sleet and snow.
The visitation of that unpleasant side of life is here
comes with a series of pain is this compulsory treasure hunt
issues grow fat and fetch more corn meal from our distresses
the skin is seared but patience never stops rolling
surrendering to be the devil’s toothsome victim
for struggles to eat the soul to complete discomfort
fire is inhaled; dense smoke, exhaled
as the mind desperately finds cover under the liver
the only options are bitter flavours or sour syrups
then more problems on existing ones superpose
redemption looks, shakes its head and ignores flatly
the mind goes casual for each thorn to drop
but challenges end on those who are permanently frozen
so holding onto the strongest pole is the only way out
suffering’s surveillance gradually blocked and debugged
this phase ends as character is healed from its rickets.
I'm Stella, I was10 years old when I've met Yijing first time.
I never forget that day, a mystery case happened.
To detect the truth, I made my sense sharpened.
But finally, Luna solved it spending almst no time.
The incident was lost of My favorite sweets !!
I cried so much that I couldn't do anythhing more.
Next day, when I was searching clues entire floor,
Luna came to my home, and slowly took her sheets.
She told me she heard this from my mother
And, "I know who did it. My master", she said regretfully
"But your master means,,", I asked her surprisingly.
She asserted flatly,"Yes, your father."
"How did you know that ?", I said this time doubtfully.
"By my skill.", She only replied heedlessly.
Fengleishanren.
Come in take a seat
The young man furrowed his brow
I em wait where am I
The older gent motioned to the chair
Please take a seat
As the young man settled into the leather seat, the older filled the glass on the table between them with water
Slightly trembling the young man lifted.the glass and sipped at the water
A loud click as he placed the glass upon the table
His gaze drifting around the sparse room
He looked back to where he had arrived but couldn’t see a door, just another white wall
I a cough as he cleared his throat am Zion
And unfortunately you are dead
The young man blinked twice and a smile morphed erratically upon his face
The older man continued
The young man winced as the image of headlights
speeding towards him which flashed in his head
Frantically throwing his hands over his face
Yes, that happened, Zion.flatly uttered
These are you final moments
You may ask any question
All knowledge accessible
You can fix any regret
Talk to anyone living or dead
Dean my name is Dean -offering his hand in welcome
Is it just Zion like Madonna he smiled
No second names
Zion bemused-No second name
And if it’s not personal can I ask what are you
An angel Dean chuckled
No no nothing like that
I am your sciribe
He continued
Everything existing or not has one
We note everything from your beginning to
well now.
Dean lifting his glass once more to his lips
The clear liquid in his glass now tasted like lemonade his thoughts drifting to a long gone summer sitting with his sister on the newly cut lawn.
That taste you just had-Zion nodded, it’s the same lemonade.
O! You are naive
You are barbaric indeed
In you, I am disappointed
We sight each other everyday
We smile to one another each day
We fondle one another day by day
Aren’t we married for years?
In number, it was thirty three plus three years
O! Electricity
You are but faulty
You bit me with your electricity teeth
Just as snake bites
Believe me
Please trust me
Pray I shall not stand
As I lay flatly on this ground
Enjoying pain of your thunder bit
After cascaded from long distance poll
As long as the firmament
Laughing though tears drool
You are defunct!
I mean it you are extinct!
O! Poetry soup, don’t plead me
Don’t plead me
Okay I shall show mercy
For my fellow poets to viewing their poetry
They need electricity
A sweet young bank teller named Doris
Had a crush on her co-worker, Boris.
But one day while at work
The young clerk went berserk
When she caught Boris banging the manager, Morris.
Doris' secret admirer, Dan Danson,
Was swarthy, tall, and roguishly handsome.
But the next day while at work,
This clerk, too, went berserk,
Took an ATM hostage and held it for ransom.
Dan was embarrassed, didn't want to be caught,
And was going to shut himself up in the vault,
But Boris told him to run,
While Morris called 9-1-1,
And Doris flatly declared that it wasn't her fault.
When the S.W.A.T. team arrived on the scene,
They found everything calm and serene.
Boris told the S.W.A.T. captain that Dan
Had taken both Doris and Morris' van
And fled with the cash from the money machine.
Doris' version, when caught, was more exculpatory
And dripping with details more lurid than gory.
She'd plotted with Dan to create this diversion
To rescue her from that den of perversion,
And now Boris, and Morris, and Doris, and Dan
Are suing each other for the rights to the story.
Heart paralysis reflects unholy yearning.
She has wrapped her love in soiled paper
and hidden it beneath forgotten works.
Specters in the house heed alarms and float
towards daily rituals that rearrange pain.
Distant transmissions crackle through nights.
She has wrapped up her love.
Once fond recitations swam on breezes and
brushed lip to skin with infinite colour that
tattooed devotion onto vein and pulse.
Embalmed silence sits still, pregnant.
She has wrapped her love in flowered cloth
and tied it up with faded ribbon.
Home was an adorned method scorched by
evening embraces and empty bottles of wine.
Rooms now echo flatly, devoid of a beginning.
She has wrapped up her love.
We ran away together; we ran so far with
broken radar and injured souls that our hurt
became skin and forgetting became dear.
She has wrapped up her love.