Long Frizzled Poems
Long Frizzled Poems. Below are the most popular long Frizzled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Frizzled poems by poem length and keyword.
He rode a horse he got thrown off
Onto the ground his head hit first
In a pile of manure horses pie
On top of his head he lie
Looked like a derby hat yah!
Getty-ap
Laddie look like a hat he wore
But it was just a pile of manure
She was a fair black lady
At the hair dresser
The weather man say yesterday
It’s gonna be sunny and bright
Yet, when the young lady left out the hair dresser
It thundered and began to rain
Uncovered her hair got wet frizzled and fuff-up
She looked like a cotton ball, now all wet she wore a afro
Lasses look like she wearin a British hat
2/14/24
For Put Yer Funny Hats On Laddies (Lasses Too) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tom Woody
Seeps in like a sparkle of bright lightning,
Rudely rough; like diamond unpolished;
In forms of thought or belief, heightening,
Stays inside bare vacuum diminished;
Propels forces of impressions within,
Comprehensive concepts clearly creates,
Idea and concept, yet, aren't the same;
When it is gruesome, facial guise goes grin,
With head and heart smoothly associates,
Idea is an unquenchable flame...!
Newton got it from fresh falling apple,
Archimedes shouted loud: Eureka!
Ada Lovelace, sometimes, could not grapple,
Though she was as full as angelica;
Galileo Galilee, through his lens,
Got idea of whole constellation,
Idea keeps up its vital rhythm;
Einstein challenged each philosopher, thence,
With relativism! What an ablation!
He had his self-tuned witty logarithm...!!!
Though flares in mind of independent souls,
Its ignition sphere is Hades-like deep;
Wedded with other views, gets greater goals,
Like snakes-mating, ideas dance and creep;
What else, than idea, does change the world?
Globe, today, is frizzled to finger-chip,
No morality rules have any say;
When tiny charming buds turn curled and furled,
When nothing,is, in one's fingertip,
Only idea can make its sole sway...!!!
30 April 2022
as a child,
I perceived
the wonderment
of Clouds.
and elders
likewise contemplated
the curious celebrity of them
the solemnity of shape-shifting skyships
their charity of rain:
encouraging fruit
greening hills
irrigating joys
keeping
watch
around the earth
in as enviable
a perch
as the risen sun
or mystic moon
that guides tides.
sun runs
apace
moon whisks
its baton away
but Clouds
stay high,
perpetual
imprints
covering Space and Time.
Could
Clouds
be God's eyes?
***
when I was
-abecedarian-
counting from one to three,
I licked my lips
at Clouds
reckoning
I'd catch them
like docile butterflies,
and discern the flavors of miracle floss:
must be rose-white sugar
some barley flour
lamb's fleece and goose feathers
the elders, lofty and wise,
disparaged my foolish games.
I tugged
on the edge of their mountainous faces:
wispy chins
transient strands
billowy beards
closest clouds
I'd seen
Proximal nimbi
and their dust trail
of ginger, onion, and clove
pulled pork, frizzled cod, light ashtray
lingered...
I caught
those crazy hairs
so hard
candy-coated
raindrops
fell!
Let’s get rid of that old antique thing, my daughter said.
Was she talking about the clock? Was she loose in her head?
I pretended I had not heard her weird kind of blasphemy.
That clock was given to me by my oldest Grandma McGee.
Sure, it was ancient, it no longer played a pretty song
Some of it had splintered, its chimes were abrasive and long
But there was a connection between that timepiece and me.
Maybe because it had come from my favorite Grandma McGee.
That night I sat up in bed, wondering if a ghost was about the house.
That clock was playing like it was haunted by moose and mouse.
My hair frizzled with fright, for I had not had this experience before.
I broke off three teeth grinding them; I locked my bedroom door.
Could not get to sleep the rest of the night; this was a fright, it was a fright.
Next day, I tried to give the clock away at the first sign of daylight.
Who would want it? Asked my daughter, it's scary as a gargoyle on speed.
I can deliver it to your house, however, if you have a desire or need.
Awakened
realizing I was in shock
she rolled me over
and did it again are you glad?
Sad a puppies brown hair
green eyes
frizzled dazzlers
gelled hair.
Thorazine hidden in my orange
orange juice
without a just claim to fame
dipped in a language
you can read on your toast.
Simpson
please rest with
Spector there
grow old and smile.
Dreams
mental illness
rushed through your head
no voice of reason, I
Hide in my bed
my arms are like a cross
both of my hands in restraints.
Rooms
with no exits
to many padded cells
morally bankrupt that shrink was let go.
He unfurled his sail
Then claimed us as his cows and sheep
and thus we smelt of sleep.
Dad has ordered a new shed,
he'll site it in the shade
replacing the one put out by
the local Fire Brigade.
The wheelie bin is full of food
almost a three course luncheon
with sausages as black as coal
and harder than a truncheon.
Home made sauce clings to the sides
like toffee, not that viscous,
and burgers that could be re-used
on sports days as a discus.
Mummy's apron, holed and scorched,
no whiskers on the cat,
bare lawn where flames extinguished with
the neighbour's cricket bat.
“Will there be another one next time?
we'll have to wait and see”
says Dad as he goes to fetch Mum
from outside A&E.
His frizzled locks like coiled springs,
he will not need his comb,
but never mind, the family sings-
“she's coming home
she's coming home
she's coming,
Mummy's coming home....”
(* A&E- Hospital accident and emergency department in the UK)
Before the day unfolds from crumpled sorrow prior to dawning
yawning fake cumbersome fawning’s creases nocturnal tossing
turning ragged motion rigor ante mortis refuses to leave the sheets
and pleated feat of forlorn furrows of a haunted mind and soul
The tired hangman’s girth and girders glide crushingly from heaven while
moon shadows’ frizzled fragments show no mercy reflect the blinding
darkness’ solar soaring cannot quench the thirst that is no more as grimy
star dust descends in acrid shivers on the burning frosty condemnation
A pillow case draped round the neck perverts the petting pecking order
of a reckless needy comfort long past the passion of redemption’s kiss
burst bent spent and hollow the cotton duvet draped in remorseful sores
blends easily with heavy weights and suffocating nothingness of dawn
When shadows leave no reflection as mirrors of the past and present cast
no more glimpse of prism when compressed condensation remains the
only lonely companion left to soothe like grating acid wounding scabby scars
all light goes out and vanished freedom plies it’s murky clarity again
PROLOGUE
Umpteen billion years
Big Bang, supernova, gas
Brief eclipse of time
Gases swirling, fall
Sun and planets, water, goo
Brief eclipse of time
Another billion
life, amoeba, fishes swim
Brief eclipse of time
Movement, change and flux
slither, crawl, climb, walk and talk
Brief eclipse of time
Ra, Sol, Helios,
Mithra and the Mighty Eye
Brief eclipse of time
Life begins and ends
birth, joy, laugh, cry, death, and dust
Brief eclipse of time
Waves cleave seas, shores, skies
forever folding, pulsing
Brief eclipse of time
CHRONICLE
The Mighty Eye begins to slip and slowly sink,
(unfocused, stained, diffuse)
while frizzled waves imbibe her searing tears,
with salted languid lips.
The Mighty Eye, now weary, thin,
is gazing through the frozen cracks,
as sundry straying clouds,
bloated,
sidle feebly by
and wax their billowed tracks
upon the heated sky,
and cool the rush of rolling waves
beneath the blotted sky.
The waves
(impaled on time and space inside me),
gently tumbling aging pebbles
and lifeless shells across the shifting sands,
seem unaware
as they once again arise
to greet the Mighty Eye,
to close the Mighty Eye,
to snuff the Mighty Eye.
But then again,
perhaps the waves are well aware indeed,
yet simply unconcerned
and feel no need to care.
For, as the frazzled froth is rushing forward
madly towards the sandy shores beyond,
before retreating slowly,
then careening brashly forth ahead again,
eternally,
it matters little if the Mighty Eye will cast
her blazing glance from high above,
or else retire for the night,
kissed sweetly by the liquid lips
of distant faithless waves
in a brief eclipse of time.
Continued in Part 2
Form:
The ill woman who lies in the wheelchair
was well-spoken, happy, generous, elegant, and fair
and she lived a life of exuberant riches;
now in poor health, she's at the mercy of others.
Her frizzled mind recreates past images in photographs
of adored faces, she posted them among her artifacts;
why did they abandon her to a detrimental state?
Didn't her full hands offer generosity and not shake?
Caroline was a nurse and took care of wounded soldiers,
often her white uniform was stained with blood,
nothing scared her, she continued to save lives;
won't anyone honor her now, not when she's under the sod?
I can take one pumpkin-spiced cup with a pear –
With a pink lipstick visage, my heartrate resides with this gay pear.
Excellent exhalations process a plan that has gone…pear is not a bad shape!
Squareness sucks in each day’s pear.
Anglia Pear, I hope you are apeare that pear is a pearticular charm to in-your-face industrial archipearcture.
You may be pearpetrating the pearposless rule to not scran grey pear.
Until the moon is a golden peartal près
To an island of oak & hazel May pears,
Pearple always will. No-one is naturally scented with cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger & cloves.
What sort would be best to dress a pear?
Dull mugwort – a pearennial plant native to Europe’s air,
Asia’s & Africa’s as well!
It grows now in North Apearica, too.
The first of seeds to have earth
Are frizzled over par l’eau pear.
Oh pear, it seems like a second since – as we watched The ApPEARtice last Friday - you asked me to go prepear
A painting to be exhibited at The Art of Bowls.
My pearpose has been bathing with you know the pear –
Profound pearsions are pulled without a trigger.
Yet humankind pins them perpeartully to product tally charts.
Pearhaps now it’s enough simply to remember pear pear,
Rather than shoving Terry straight in some digger.
Whether clean or not, I would pearfer pumpkin spice to that
Chai!