Long Frankly Poems
Long Frankly Poems. Below are the most popular long Frankly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Frankly poems by poem length and keyword.
Flesh is a better word than bone
dried far better than fried
listless better than witless
Verklempt ever so superior to weeping
or am I wrong?
bone is white, lonely, brittle, bleached, stripped, broken?...beached, deserted
Flesh is rich, soft, mushy, tender, supple, pink, pale, peach-ed, and even fuzzed
fried is hot, hard, dissolved, drenched, fattening and frankly frightening
dried, is course, crisp, weathered, worn, reduced, reducted to its bitter sugar sweetness
witless...to be so forsaken and confused
listless, is a bowl of cold soup,a pillow, a couch,a silent room, a overstuffed chair, a rainy day,a clock ticking, a pencil in hand suspended above a white page....dormant with possibility...a chrysalis held captive in time, a photograph
weeping..falling drops of water melted from the snow of soul
Verklempt...honor in sadness, resolve against the high tide of painful truth, speechless, defenseless against the tsunami power of real pain or joy
Wonder bread. Really? I do not think so.
Wonder why. But please do not guess, and they will lie any way.
Wonder how many. No idea as I despise all aspects of math.
Wondering your life away? Wonder no more.
Wondering is good for cats. Maybe not so terrific for humans.
When people say "Try to find out because I am wondering,"
I know I am being set up, for why would they not do the asking?
Wonderment. Love this one. Wonderful.Just three extra letters,
but it makes the word 'wonder' so much more than before.
I wonder why this word has to be elongated to be wonderful to me?
Wonder itself does not do anything for me,
Frankly always takes me right back to Wonder Bread.
My children's favorite bread, which is weird to me as I have
in wonderment wondered why in the world they think it is so
wonderful. I never did.
Form:
As we sailed the fast river of Rhône
the steady sun bleached it a sparkling gold
like the treasures of Caesar’s kingdom
A curtain of fawn-silken tackle, shaded
back the fervidly garish star scatter,
and cooling flower-scented airs tickled
the senses like touching down-soft silk
"zhuang hong zhuang sheng" (Chinese)
“Put on airs’ - Peter and I are Gatsby gilded.
Why not dress - on luminous forenoons?
Pick a heart, any heart and prick it, sharply,
with the sight of a handsome man.
I yet breathless, breathe
What weapon is sharper than libido?
I defend myself, with fashion’s sartorial sparkle.
Frankly, I was hoping for something passively erotic,
you know, foment a false perception - dazzle
with fancy outwork to tip the cosmic balance
Men will witness what they believe
.
.
song for this:
Desperately Trying by Club des Belugas, Anna Luca
I cannot say that I communicated with a UFO
but I felt like I communed with one
I yelled for my husband to come see
He discounted it as some weird plane
And promptly returned inside to the TV set
It hovered, dipped, swooped
In precariously odd ways, nothing like a machine
I sat outside for a long time,
Feeling I had been selected
Wondering what might happen next
It had a glow about it, but not neon
Something else, something not of this earth
If I knew what four-d was, maybe I could equate it to that
All I really know is that it quickly grabbed my attention.
At first it was hovering, not moving at all
I thought this peculiar which is why I fetched my husband.
The second he spotted it, it began to move like a plane.
When he returned to the house it made swirls and loops.
This is about eleven thirty at night, no time for an air show.
I would have to guess this was thirty or forty years ago
I felt like it was playing in the sky for my benefit, to entice me.
Frankly, I still do.
Matthew Scott The Marionette...
(Concocting cock and bull poetic pap
promises to approximate bovine rap
worse case scenario..., you will snap
so friend me at funny farm in Trappe
Pennsylvania, or frankly yukon zap
this poppycock poetic
emetic entailing...vowel)
movements deftly managed skilled puppeteer
unseen hands adroitly maneuver paraphernalia
bajillion miles away deep into thee atmosphere,
where Soundgarden's black hole sun serves as
infinite energy-feeds performing artist career
inherent behind the scenes trickster leveraging
mine every move master of ceremonies appear
ring poking his oblate spheroid noggin thru walled
sky inquiring, asper state of being paternal care
oft times addressing him as father, cuz proficient
craftsmanship forged me from nought meticulously
rendering yours truly complex functions, an engineer
ring feat cosmic artisan whipped out applying greased
lightning rods (unbreakable accouterments) endowing,
and endorsing creation with uber tender loving care
divine intervention nary clue hinted, thus me unaware
leverage, sans remote control bound tethered bond
most every day of "FAKE" existence never suspected
every aspect of my being linkedin at mercy of pioneer,
who more or less cornered, fabricated, patented... the
market, sans configuring sophisticated kin o'man near
lee indistinguishable from offal housed in Augean stables
essentially explaining incessant mooing "holy cow" & rear
ring like a bucking bronco, though mastermind did milk
golden opportunity calf full not to exploit this cash cow
loose sing hybridized mutant amidst green acres, where
past chore age of cornucopia frequently dredges muck
cob bray, and remembrance of things past, I Angus here
hoof hit might be convenient Taurus to part ways lest
ye accuse me being lame provocateur, spewing this slop
(from well chewed cud) out the figurative derriere!
I am below a zero, a zero
I am a dash, a quiet hero
Mellowness and meekness is what I seek and I am proud
Humility, love, desire, benevolence, bravery and confidence is what I beseech
I am but a dash in your eyes...silence within speaks loud
I will be practicing my solitude speech while you practice what you preach!
I am not a crazy colon
I am a soul, oh so alone
I can't stand hearing your apostrophes scream at me constantly...
You're speaking loud, but I'm ignoring on purpose honestly...
I am the numbers and letters of your heart apparently
I am not a comma because I don't pause for you to catch up frankly
Keep up with my wondrously-made writing skills
Or you can always pay up the upcoming bills
You're flawless, regardless of annoying me
I am bewildered, yet comforted suddenly
I am but a dash, a hero of I-forgive-you
I live for your echoes of empathy so true
I am not a crazy colon:
I am not a comma,
I will say it in apostrophes: "I am a dash and that's that -"
Just Clouds
They seem just ordinary fill
for a background, a fuzzy white
or gray that doesn't grab the eye
and distract from the more deserving
stuff like trees, sweeping ocean views
and mountain lakes. Clouds lack
a clean line.
They seldom get prime billing
unless infused with anger and about
to burst, or wear the outrageous
colors of a rising or setting sun.
Many exclude them altogether
with a preference for a blue,
totally cloudless sky.
Frankly, total blue is boring to me.
Give me tufts of purest white
drifting soundlessly across
an otherwise featureless sky,
big bellied storm clouds, dark
and sagging with weight,
rumbling with thunder,
letting their load of water go.
And wrap me
in the soft, filtered light
of low, misty clouds that have learnt
how to weep, keep me safe
from the big towering giants
that grow with menace on a distant
horizon and bless me
with the unseen ones
that send down a gentle rain at night
to lull me off to sleep.
My screams are void
Throughout the circulation of this solid room
Distracted by the solemn night
Interrupted by blurred groans
Sincere in its integrity
Drums are beating,
eating away the deserted sanctuary
Echoes of cruel sounds mix together
as the wind formulates around an unavoidable night
Silent wars has awaken from its casket
Rising up to kidnap the faithful and discernment building up in the household
Kidnapping the love
Throwing away sincere awareness
I finally could utter a few questions to you...
Tell me...who wins?
Who has gone astray...missing forever?
I finally will tell you the distinguished truth
Frankly, my dear friend,
No one knows in silent wars
Frankly, My Dear
Oh, yes the saga of scarlet O’Hara
She was a spoiled little twit
She never had a lick of sense
No not even a little bit
She let all her raw emotions
Rule her every day
No matter the cost of it
She would have her way.
Finally she married Rhett Butler
A carpet bagger they said
But she used him all up
All his love for her gone and dead.
But in the end she loved him
But would deal with it all tomorrow
He had all he could stand from her
Later she would deal with the sorrow.
Love doesn’t conquer all
A lesson here well taught
Too much pain and sorrow
Is what their feelings brought
He had loved her through everything
But finally just threw up his hands
As he walked into the mist he just said
“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.
Connie Moore
8/6/13
written for contest
Movie standards were once quite high
Words like damn were frowned upon
But now with the wind those standards are gone
And frankly, no one seems to give a damn
So when the movie" Gone With The Wind" came out
The producers had some doubts about
Using the word Damn
Which was to be spoken by Rhett, Scarlet's man
But they relented and the word did stand
And the scene went exactly as planned
But what if the movie was made today
What would Rhett Butler say?
It would probably go something like this
Frankly @#*&# I don't give a #$*@..
Movie standards today are as low as they can get
The words they use today would make Rhett turn scarlet