Long Flip Poems
Long Flip Poems. Below are the most popular long Flip by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flip poems by poem length and keyword.
My babies loved the cats,
through the ages of the naps,
in the pages,
in the clasp,
on the floor,
atop a mat,
I pull it out and flip a bat-
let a lover free the band,
so I may rebuttal and unleash some wrath...
Because just one tap on the blacks,
leads a lover to the back,
just like one Cambridge man of the past-
holds a drink,
and chats your gas-
shoots your lore back at the boss-
holds your cross with MS DOS,
dances slow,
without a flirt,
dances slow,
and acts the jerk,
wounds the birds,
with sailing lurch,
corrodes the curbs,
with wheeling verse,
feeling verve-
eats the skirts,
while doing peddles,
and bronzing metals,
mutating meadows,
while racing against yellows,
seasons those fellows pollinating in the bellows-
of an R1 while you're having so much fun...
Being a beast while you're facing the gun,
in the rip of time between going home and burning the buns,
focusing on the fever that got you your lump some.
Friday the thirteenth, (September
tooth house hind nineteen)
dark shadows winessed scads of bats
(base sic cully lobbing soupy Matzo balls)
eyeing yours truly as seldom seen
human sacrificial cuisine,
which dime a dozen story true story
red within tabloid National Enquirer 'zine.
Minus blood sucking mammals more averse
than bill collectors or insurance companies
bared fangs greeted yours truly courtesy
of bloodthirsty nurse
triggering instantaneous qualm
ordinarily, I dune hot feel averse
nor nain availing one arm or the other,
wherein needle tip doth stick
prominent vein, yet an idling hearse
unwittingly induced heightened alarm,
on flip Wilson side... sense and sensibility
awoke regarding no impact upon purse
anyway death could never as worse
compared to hand to mouth
dirty deeds done... dirt poor curse.
A deep inhalation induced relaxed state
courtesy ujjayi breath
filled lungs to alleviate
(yea right slim/fat chance analogous
to one sniveling, mutering, groveling...
writer wannabe called upon to curate)
quirky rhyming scribblings
attempting to pass muster
easily, joyfully, worthily...
declared poet laureate
hence hastily erected castle
in the sky fate
meeting divine heavenly lorded
tailor tete a tete
gradually alleviated helter skelter
mental condition within pate
experienced sudden calm
displaced initial panic, thus great
ecstasy donned "FAKE" trumpeting guise
knowing within short shrift
death would assimilate
me, while providing fancy feast
where Desmodontinae
would undulate
this vampire weekend,
aware I prevaricate
and horrible anecdote purely
meant to demonstrate
how believability easily
wrought to fascinate
(ha) captive audience,
he/she exhibiting skeptical trait
might doubt claim (mine), who as inmate
within human zoo forced to risk death
defying daredevil metier height
figurative tightrope walker I gyrate
balanced on iambic foot in toto
all the while able to coordinate
vaguely flowing continuity
eventually metaphorical
erythrocytes coagulate.
I built a cardboard house
that came with four large flaps.
And when they're folded over
the roof it over-lapse.
I have to crouch inside it.
It's not made very tall.
But when I go to stand up
the roof gives way and all.
It hasn't got a window.
It's dark without a light
and nothing to be feared
when nothing is in sight.
I can't lay down inside it.
It's much too small to sleep
and if I start to nod off,
I'll hit the wall and weep.
I live alone inside it.
There isn't room for more.
And if someone came over
they'd see there is no door.
I haven't got a mailbox
and live with no address.
And if you want to find me
you'll simply have to guess.
I move around quite often.
It's not my place to brag.
But you won't say I'm rich
when I grab my house and drag.
I'm happy once inside it
and live from day to day.
And if you should come over,
I'll flip it and we'll play.
All that we accomplish for ourselves perish with us; all that we do for others and the realm endures. Fear of the path leads to fear of death. A person who is truly alive is prepared for death. By Poet
It shrouds its swabbing aspect below a smut mask
The flip verge, loaded with fear, is enticing to mark
The fringe inner bound is an amorphous emptiness
That throttles us in its bedlam of spirit.
Its sprawled forelimbs embrace and snatch
A milder side that quiets and comforts
Farewell to torment, wretchedness, and uneasiness
The clashing edge is filled with horrendous obscurity
A depressing and sickeningly feeble nothingness
That steers us growingly close to looming doom
A ghoulish servant with two faces
He exhibits a sly smirk and spurs me to shrink my eyes
And queried as to what I could witness
This softness stood in as the scenery
For those splendid and vivid delusions
And it is in that wish that I haunt myself
Anything else that belongs to me
It was past time for me to revive my heedfulness
And now, it's an ultimate instant to say farewell
Things same as span and flows can wander
No light at the ending of some tunnels
Utterly the harsh steady relish of misery
There isn't eternally a redeeming quality
All might halt if it can...and all will if it requires to
Yarns and wrecked vessels are analogous to life
Oh...such suffocating little doves
Written: February 21, 2022
1st place contest winner
F Form - Free Verse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Topic: Death
A tumble of flowers and soon you look amazing dear hair
with just a smidge of lovely perfume you can scent the air
A little beret on the side and suddenly you look magnificent
when I gather you in a ponytail, you make me look innocent
If I braid you into two elegant tresses, I feel quite content
yes you get coiffed at fancy salon for I am worth every cent
If I flip you, " secret strategy of course" then he will be mine
each time I fix you up like Sunday best, you turn out Divine !
I love you hair, because you make me feel sexy and feminine
when I curl you it means I'm going out and you look just fine
You are the best part of my head and the most cared for too,
the day I was born I didn't have much of you, but today I do.
#The_begining_of_my_end
Listen to the echoes of my heart, something of great magnitudes, swifts by, my grounds are shifting, my spirit tilting, gripping my least to witnessing this phenomenal presence, hook me to the air, as I gasp for my stand, a chance to say I too have witnessed
Her tiny soul dipping eyes, I'm subjected with perforations on my spirit. When I flip to her sight, my whole twist, to bowing if not worshipping her fragmented frame of distance awe, seal my eyes, I have seen enough to last me my eternity. Strap my wings, no sky of earth is worth my hovering beyond this. Chain my legs and throw away the keys, I have walked into my enough, my last lap.
Come closer and witness the overflow in my heart, to its brim, it has been filled. Listen closer, the rumbling sound of jubilation, something is been celebrated in my heart beat, a presence so immeasurable,
Seal my heart, I have shed enough love already. Seal my eyes, I have seen enough already. Weld my ears, I have heard enough already. Block my brains, I have thought enough. Take away my pen, I have written enough poems, this is the beginning of my end
#Poetic_Ink
“Let who is without sin,
throw da first stone.”
- dat Jesus Guy
Throughout history
Many eyes have seen
Their own two hands ...
Throw the first stone
Pull the trigger
Thrust the sword
Hang a wigger or Hitler wannabe
Push The button
Swing the axe
Flip the switch
Make Anthrax
Sign the order
Gas the chambers
Scalp a brother
Build the Bomb behind closed doors
Pull the lever, walk the plank
It’s either us or them has always been
and seems a thoughtless worthless endeavor
So, when does it start, the thinking clearly
Instead of just following orders
What changes the mind of madness,
Evil must be destroyed to free ourselves
Does it happen after the bombs drop?
The Book of Doom
Says there is room
For all of us in heaven
If not, there’s plenty room in hell
For everyone who just want to
Keep on following orders
Blindly, without questioning nothing.
A sure-fire way to create an Extinction event
is to just keep on following orders
Who needs asteroids
When all we need is a little love
And a lot of ignorance
Sometimes I just want to stop my brain.
She laughs in my face.
She wiggles her dendrites.
She sticks out her tongue.
She gives me six more ideas for a drawing.
Sometimes I just want to stop my brain.
But she twirls around in the living room and does a flip.
She jumps off the couch and begins to ask me what ifs.
What if the refrigerator walked off angry?
What if the fly swatter turned on you instead of a fly?
What if the silverware drawer had a ghost living in it?
Sometimes I want to just stop my brain.
So I have to get really quiet and I have to lie down.
I have to close my eyes, and then I hear her laughing.
So I get up and do what she wants.
But I retain a really bad mood, because she does not leave me alone!
couplets and goblets are not costly or fine
doublets and snubblets are simply mine.
words parade in my brain and do their back flip.
Adjectives and adverbs give me a tiny bit of jazzy lip.
there is a cadence to my poem today I see right away.
The prepositional phrases are on top, getting in everyone’s way.
What about the nouns? Are they doing anything exciting, poet?
You mean the circus, monkey, clown, and popsicle throwing a fit?
Yes, there is a zoo inside my poetic brain today for sure.
My muse is throwing out words like lollygag, and cow pie manure.
I roll my eyes as other words come sliding out as if in the sea….
Who is writing this stuff? I no longer feel my ideas are from me.
My muse is laughing her petootsie off, kicking her legs in the air.
Verbs like swirling, twirling and flicking give her their holiday stare.
I swear to the mythology gods who live in the clouds above,
Writing down words all day long is something I truly love.
Half empty love, a bitter truth,
A tale of pain and love uncouth,
Of relations that failed to last,
Of hearts that shattered like broken glass.
Flipped coins and cents of life,
A gamble that caused us strife,
A love that promised joy and bliss,
Now just a memory that we miss.
We thought we had it all,
A love that would never fall,
But soon it crumbled to the ground,
A painful ending that left us bound.
Back-stabbing and hurtful words,
A love that flew away like birds,
A trust that was broken and betrayed,
A love that died, and memories fade.
Now we're left with half-empty hearts,
Trying to make sense of broken parts,
Wondering if love was ever true,
Or just a dream we once pursued.
But through the pain, we'll find a way,
To love again, and see a brighter day,
To learn from past mistakes and strife,
And find a love that's worth the flip of life.