Long Fleecing Poems
Long Fleecing Poems. Below are the most popular long Fleecing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fleecing poems by poem length and keyword.
"A Mackerel Sky"
shadows like sun
dance across
an ocean of tears
salt for the stinging
walking on clouds
with the Fisher King,
as if in school
in the swim of things
fishing nets for love
all in the eye
of the beholder
wisdom like pearls
sown,
an inevitable plant,
pregnant with possibility
full-bellied, grown,
then stitched up
embroided
sewn imperfect
the hem of it slipping
needs fast mending
cirrocumulus,
fleecing
altocumulus
blown away
an empty canvas
borne for painting
bluebirds sing
on the backs
of cloudy angels racing
Mares' tails
and mackerel scales
make lofty ships
to carry low sails;
red herrings
far from sure
bloody mind dripping
another colour
washes itself
in a pink mackerel sky -
the observing self
hedging bets and
reacquainting
do or die
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
“According to lore (tradition), a mackerel sky means that the weather is going to change.”
“Mackerel are built for speed and, along with a highly forked tail, can streamline themselves by retracting their dorsal fin into a groove in their body when they swim. Actually, they are the fastest swimming fish, in UK waters, able to swim around 50 metres in 10 seconds. Mackerel, have to keep swimming to live, as if they stop moving forward they will drown.”
Meaning, Mackerel Sky - "a name given to a sky covered with those same puffy cirrocumulus and altocumulus clouds arranged in a pattern of waves, with blue sky peeking through so that it resembles the scales on the back of a mackerel."
It’s all rather fishy. Red Herrings, Mackerel Skies.
Hail, the vale aches from retraced tattered feet going hither and tither the rambunctious brood, as dawn's golden sleigh race into a sanguine morn, of languishing warmth to sheath from the fleecing errant breeze, of yonder mountaintop, amidst a blanketed respite snow made heavy from the weight of the gods, who sit eyeing the mere mortals workloads that wanes into clear desks and cold seats. Traffic slows in the late afternoon and speeds when loosened while the dusk undresses the night, whose yawns of wearisomeness is inhibited by their backsides while bustling and hustling end, lain ontop of unkept beds.
2020 January 14
Lidar uncovers what is beneath.
Liars reveal their teeth.
Whores ride a Beast.
Super Bowl Halftime Show Fleecing Theme;
"pRINCESS conjures up demons,
for her grammy (Lilith) and plays on your
emotion to not consider what is wrong or evil
or family worthy.
In the midst of the bright lights and cheers
of the crowd,
a princess takes the stage,
casting her hypnotic shroud.
Her words dance like demons,
with eros ascending to the clouds-
playing with our emotioned glands,
with harps, tabarets and cymbals,
drums to chakra your heart
beguiling us with illusion,
and persuasion's dark arts.
We cling to her melody, lost in her spell,
blinded to the darkness that lurks,
wishing us to dwell there with her.
She conjures up emotions, tugging at our core,
but behind the glamour lies a twisted lore.
Beware, dear soul, of the princess so bold,
for her burrowed borrow deceives,
leaving our spirits cold.
Let not her song lead you astray,
but heed the call of truth,
before it's too late and you serpently sway."
(..."and if you listen very hard, the tune will come..."
Angel pours out his bowl....
Despite your intelligence mimicry,
You still come far short in your gimmickry,
Throwing down the drains fine masterpieces,
Flushed away as a fresh bout of faeces.
Nights without sleep to pen wonders on sheet,
Yet a lame detector brands one a cheat,
An app claiming to be a true genius ~
Is far from being labeled ingenious.
How long will your pretence rule human minds,
Before you're swept off by the southern winds,
That your charade may stop to fool the world,
And your foolishness may at last unfurl.
Strange how your fanbase keeps on increasing,
Even the most smart, you're daily fleecing,
These cursed detectors come in many brands,
Some free – yet some charge dollars and rands.
I'm amazed you didn't claim this was by you,
This bitter pill, your pride has had to chew,
But that won't stop me from calling you out,
To nip in the bud your infamous clout.
It’s difficult
To contemplate
My F8
A sad ending to relate
A psychological way
To masturbate
As I progress
Thru my allotted years
I face and analyze
My internal fears
And shed somewhat regretful tears
Of not doing that or this
Reminiscing
Of what did I miss
As I hurtle towards
Death’s kiss
I realize
I don’t wish to leave
I want to stay
And not have to grieve
Life is a gift
You want to continue to receive
I wish to extend my subscription
And reaffirm my conviction
That living
Is the ultimate addiction
I admit to being greedy
And spiritually needy
And I’m not done
With questions or fun
Or being lazy soaking up the sun
I want more time
To write and rhyme
I need more days
To enjoy the sublime
I’ve spent to much chasing green paper
Wasting my time on a financial caper
Collecting crap that will outlive me
Only to be given to the next attendee
So, they may add to the pile of waste
Filling an emotionally empty space
It’s such a disgusting race
This is the F8 we face
The never-ending material chase
That simply has no place
Fleecing my time
Demanding I grind
To serve the unkind
I will make you a deal
I refuse to squeal
Bow or kneel
Or waste myself
As your personal toy on a shelf
I will be me
Come and see
Genuine and free
Not a care in the world
To which I was hurled
I will enjoy
The chains I destroy
As I disregard your ploy
To keep me locked in a cage
While you revel in my rage
To keep me from turning the page
To write a new section
Called my personal resurrection
This is my F8
Freedom’s reflection
Look into your own mirror
And own your fear
You having nothing to lose my dear
Eric (and sometimes not)
No man knows the exact day or hour
But charlatans continually preach of an Armageddon stour
Over fallow fields they their abrasive treatises scour
Softening the hard, unyielding ground as a tidy, careful plower
With visions of doomsday they fertile hearts do shower
Their seeds annually spring up as the perennial flower
With self-aggrandizing statements, continually their banal egos empower
Prophesying the cataclysmic end from their ivory tower
Predicting a scourging blight on every shielded bower
With their fleecing mantra distill a warning so dour
Ignorant patrons dispossess themselves of temporal treasures and cower
With presentiments of fearsome events that will this evil world devour
If only they would throw off the yoke of parochial tenets, emboldening discerning spirits with valour
Their hungry hearts would the chaff disperse and process the truthful remnant into a satiating flour
Ivory pilots night's idyllic sighs,
like timely climbing sky--untying cries,
lights espying irises gliding rise.
Evening lean sleeping,
beacon competing,
concedes pleasing keen scenes,
appealing leaping,
sincere esteeming,
green treat sweetly redeems.
Trailing rays draping shapes,
maple framing trace,
claiming plains facing lakes,
bravely wades gauged space.
Green fields teasing,
--thieving seething,
weeds beseech release,
feel they cheated,
leaves defeated,
ease sense peaceful wreaths.
Yellow roses,
showy floats,
potato groves,
grown rows notes,
tomatoes hold,
closely wove,
flowering show,
sloping globe,
drove lonesome road,
banjo tone,
broken myPhone,
coasting home.
Reeling breezes freely sweep ...
weakened peels, eternal sleep ...
green trees reach needed relief,
complete healing frees fig leaf.
Humans muse Cupid,
blew flutes,
spooking unicorns,
smooth tunes moody blooms,
grew blue,
jewel unique forms.
Severe events fleecing green dreams,
precede teaching seeding extremes.
Fathers, Day 2003
"Boundaries"
Written: By Tom Wright
6/16/03
For the elixir of the vine,
Dad could scarcely refrain.
Now just thoughts of his labor,
Like green persimmons, remain.
Twas like some withered old flower,
That doggedly clung to its stem.
Fleecing each morning sun, until at last,
His petals blanched and eye's grew dim.
How oft have I wondered?
As this flower's memory I retrieve.
Questioning extenuating circumstances,
Which I have yet to conceive;
But in all my discernment,
Lay a garden in arrant waste.
Its corners marked by boundaries,
That was unjust and unchaste.
Time has moved hands clockwise,
And those boundaries that were set.
Occasionally grieve my spirit,
O’er that shadow that remains yet.
At my dad's final passing,
I was left wrought up, but sad.
For despite perceived deficiencies,
One fact remained; he was my Dad.
Forsooth impeachment hearings appertain
blood on hands of
self important president,
though alcohol he doth abstain,
nonetheless permanent drunken stupor
doth wax and wain
finger of guilt
damaging democracy points
to him as chief villain
groomed since... time immemorial
atavistic primate brain
bathed (courtesy Frederick Christ Trump)
buzzfeeding chosen favored heir
go for broke - bankrupt countless times
and pulled out all stops,
viz unbridled espousing philosophy gain
amass wealth, unscrupulous
if necessary where,
might equals right play'n
deadly serious game (Life) train
sight squarely and/or roundly
scattered lovely bones
amidst tombstones testimony
incidental secondary fallout main
part and parcel, where legerdemain,
plus art of the deal linkedin
with immeasurable gloating
ego necessary to gain
con fetter writ oligarchy plain
successfully cheating, hocking,
milking, quaffing, and trending,
yielding dynastic rule
trumpeting eternal stormy reign
vaping with wealthy
zealotry (think vain)
at electorate expense
tampering koolaid acid test
courtesy illegals sown GMO grain
colluding when/where possible,
never losing sight regarding
selfish mission to attain
obligatory ideal tyranny
rampantly running roughshod,
no need to explain
writing sleight underhanded profane
antithetical, critical, heretical quatrain
badgering, belittling, besmirching,
bilking, boasting, bragging with disdain
flagrantly flaunting, fleecing,
regarding purported B.S. degree
in economics he did attain
matriculating Wharton School of law,
hmm... methinks he paid
hirling from Ukraine
forever flirting, flouting, and flunking
even basic geography questions
case in point being where is Drury Lane
additionally, he ain't no literati familiar
storied quasi fiction Citizen Kane.
Donald trump = pathological psychopath
Fred Trump taught his sole son Donald
how to steal the leading way into more ass,
though no hint given, nor prediction forecast
in his growing up years, that would foretell,
thru base anaphylactic cronyism, egotistical
gall insidious kleptomania call, malodorous
Machiavellian offal obnoxious quintessential
skullduggery, unfair wicked yik yak zeal
to wield selfishness, a mean mogul with brass,
who would unstintingly live up to his surname,
and trump every law in the books of jurisprudence
and crass bend avast set of constitutional laws
to feed his ferocious fealty to the all mighty dollar
flaunting, fleecing, and flipping the welfare
of those (he deemed must serve him
his insatiable hunger) to connive, dictate,
and expedite his hell bent assiduity,
an empire fit for a King, who felt no aversion
to mollycoddle, peddle, and wheedle
any zealous contractual obligation
(immediately abrogated), and concoct fabrications
vis a vis, a visa versa MasterCard his
American Express shun re: the art of the raw
FitBit (if necessary browbeating, depriving,
forfeiting meting out legally obligated pay
whenever an inconvenient truth awoke
in his noggin reneging fiduciary promises
to the risk-taking, moon shining, toiling citizens
ala Indian giving per many an unfair deal
exuding crass with especial treatment
to withhold wages for his (held in check)
Polish laborers, who built his city on rock and rolling
stock – so a Starship emblazoned with
outsize ego of an exploiter with no pay
to his backbreaking Polish construction
motley crue nor even mucho grassy us
for erecting his empire now ranked in
billions of dollars unfairly pointing a finger
to berate, dictate and finagle foreigners
(illegal immigrants, he would now boot
out of this country) to carry out drudgery
with hungry stomachs growling at slave wages,
lamentably plodding since any other employer
might question their vlsa status, hence anger
boils within this generic human enraged
his wealth squeezed from every last drop
of said craftsman, now if still alive old and
broken men crushed by the mighty
self proclaimed dictator of the proletariat,
whose hollow being blind sides those
he stares down, yet beware all that glitters ain't gold!