Long Fuddled Poems
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feeling his vitamin injection a new adventure begins
a slapstick epic of unfathomable implication here unfolds
as the rat gnawed curtain rises at Ye Bone and Gristle
among the clattering of wooden pints of bitter ale
the floor show a fatigued and spent collegiate symposium
a haggard attempt at ecumenical largess aimed at
raising the unwashed to an occasional and transient grasp
of the larger dimensions that haunt our daily addictions
Prof. Zlotto emeritus deluxe brooded over his maps
summoned by the tedious self-appointed constabulary
to pry somewhat delicately into a mystifying case
of good judgment deferred with a view towards
an increase in immediate cash flow revenues
wagers placed on foul play or the whim of ill fortune
were the options undergoing fuddled prehension
we have before us opined Z expansively from center stage
an antebellumite absolutist abandoned by fortune
skirting the Queen's tariff crushed white and cold
by a bulging bale of contraband Carolina cotton
observe the eyes fully crossed the smirking grimace
while grasping a message in a mangled scrap of menu
none of the Bone and Gristle's brain trust could
tease rhyme nor reason from its random hatchings
Sumerian birdclaw temple cypher went our Professor
fragments from the time of the Great Watery Peril
the gathered lumpenproletariat gasped and murmured
Zlotto's flawless command of forgotten history
was the object of awe and an untidy fealty
my appraisal shall go no further than this room
insisted Zlotto drawing his finger across his windpipe
aye wheezed the unsteady avid archivists of civilization
the hearth's peat flames glinted off Z's gold tooth smile
a million dollar asset with the neighborhood gorgons
fluttering hearts batting about the succulent stamen
Z pondered aloud over the runes inscribed in red ichor
my certainty was never under hazard went Zlotto
what we have here beneath the lantern of exposition
is a blighted invocation of the Blind Mother of Witches
the tenured and tweedy astigmatics drew breath as one
a petition of supplication borne on ancient trade winds
Zlotto's hard gaze scanned the struck dumb congregation
It says only this
as one body the throng leans a full inch closer
only this
fill in your blanks
Not the first time...........
I cheated death......
Last week...
What a narrow squeak!
The car narrowly missing me........
Yet determined to run me down
Put me underground.....
The time was not meant to be
The airliner crash last year..........
me...........
The only person to walk free!
So many lost lives
More than I can bear
Two months past
The train....
Did I fall or was I pushed?
My fuddled brain!
It seems so long ago
How did I last?
What a week it's been!
The wife ,tripped and fell
Carving knife nearly put me in hell
What a life!
Still, I am sure it was an accident
Her insistence..........
That it was pure coincidence
Now I am thinking........
That meteorite
From five years past
That landed on my house
My life,nearly my last,
as well as the spouse
Nearly had the last rites!
Is it me?
Or is it me?
That accidental drowning
Mother in law frowning.
Thought I was done!
Still, I swum away from that one!
Now,I am thinking...........
Is this some sort of sick joke?
Why me?
I am an ordinary bloke
The ship did its' own sinking!
I stepped outside..........
The building crumbled to the ground
I looked around
Everyone else died!
What a week it's been!
Still, life is on the up
Half full
Half empty
It's my cup
You know what I mean!
Life is to be enjoyed!
stuff the insurance from lloyds!
Hang these narrow squeaks
These past weeks
At my insistence,
it's all a coincidence!
Now, I am thinking
that bullet
Was it meant for me?
It dropped at my feet
My name engraved
I was saved!
You see!
I wear it as a lucky charm..........
I have come to no harm
This I know
Wish I had it weeks ago!
The lightning strike.............
I didn't like
Frightened me!
Not as much as the resulting fire.............
Could have been my funeral pyre.........
Hence forth, I will....
Carry on as before
Defeating nature's law
Avoiding the kill!
But old age might get me
But I don't know..........
It will take some years.......
you see..........
I have no fears
Bring it on!
I am the star of.......
The Narrow Squeak Show!
Thumbs Up To The Journey
At the footbridge as it bridges past from present future and perspectives your
feet might be-come and may be-go confused be-fuddled as can your mind before
the shadows rainbows feathered fancy pastel tunes and blues-bound colours
can memories anticipation taking-stock ooze pots and lots of lived experience
re-scribed re-told rewound projected narrated from emotive thoughts
stand still
At the bridge as it cradles the canyon with ladles and measures of the moment
where it spans what once was what you enrich in here and now not there and then the sweeping meadows fields of harvest schisms unions paradigms evaluations can treasures scary scars letting-go liberate scents and stents of living fragrance perceived untold configured touched upon stocked up condensed
reflected wait
The past is yet to come and not withstanding what bridge which side what size
and whence long gone remembrance spins and spans and slows and speeds the motion the sunrise dusk and dawning tapestry mosaic photographic lens sensations can truth reality attitudes and imperfections find soul and solace shared solitude re-modelled shaped anew confronted soothed harmonised
accentuated rise
The future has arrived and has been long projected and the past is living on
where they settle and sizzle on in ember’s glory and ashes to ashes and Phoenix in flight when horizons and boxes un-boxed wriggling worms preceding grave graves can joy pleasure senses and sexes passion peace human works of art in progress accepted invited challenged unchallenged channelled welcomed
gratitude prevail
At the foot-bridge at the mind-bridge where it bridges cradles sweeps your meaning brushes and jungles juggles and wonders which hand’s intuition which path to follow lie the answers to the questions asked lie the questions known and
not yet explored
24th July 2016
With the cross purposes of taking up the slack of my composition and by the way taking some snacks as well, I dragged my feet into the Mc Donald restaurant and randomly picked a seat at a corner on the second floor. Somehow having omitted both handset preordering and spot ordering, I took out my mobile phone shillyshally and began to flip through the pages of my writing drafts stored in it. Stingy spacing skimping font size, small screen seizing my sight, both made these passages look drearier and drearier. Confused conception lingering in mind, affected appetite agitating my stomach, both made me feel more and more ill at ease. My visions were roving from boredom to barrenness, my vibes groping between darkness and disorientation. The delicate doodle patterns painted on the wall cannot help out my stranded inspiration; The fresh drafts circulating around the well air-conditioned hall cannot purge the surly stuffiness surrounding my clogged contemplation. Concomitant was a sense of subsidence and stagnation locking onto me and homing in on me step by step. I got to realize it was not just my frame of mind, but the whole frame of physique that were getting enormously encumbered. My hapless buttocks, deeply sagged into the chair and saddled with all these encumbrances, were bearing their full brunt and an ensuing torturous sensation of being tightly pinned while finding no way to dodge this undeserved vicarious punishment that was actually derived from either the smothered smolder of my dining velleity or the snagged threads of my conceptive clues, or rather from both......
Read as double Dutch
my fuddled ideas cost much
without going Dutch
Feelings of my heart, pouring like a foss
To the queen goddess of Pothos and Himeros
Before her alluring reflection I’m nak’d
My bones, flesh consum’d and spirit possess’d
With a fuddled heart fallen out of ease
Drunk of love like palm wine to the lees.
Omosi, pretty woman, daughter of Anwu
Me, none of the women of all climes do
Make sojourn ten seas and vales by heart
In one day and yet not a single step far,
The mystery of your nature to know
If beauty a mask worn and love a shadow.
What’s this desire for her that’s prisoned me
That bitter herbs turned sweet honey?
Her whisper is music divine that diminishes
A host of Angels echoing Gloria in Excelsis;
Her embrace’s elixir for life’s incubuses
And I’d forget my worries in her embraces.
Sweet love, sweet sweet love making
The body swings, the heart ever longing
To eat of her forbidden fruit and so
Be drown in sensation as deep as the Congo
That ever more takes freedom and innocence
From me and leaves a heavy heart thence.
Is’t by fate my heart be ever restless
For her? Or predestined to be I guess.
Though beauty fleets, love an illusion pass
And the acid test of time makes her carcass
She’ll rouse my heart and my manhood too
To refute the norm that makes a taboo.
She’s my heart made to be ever forlorn
To our love that’s worn a crown of thorn
By them who never know or can tell
That the pangs of being denied love is hell
With consuming regret, desire and endless sigh
And that’s all there’s, nothing else beside!
Happy. Genial. Merry. Jolly
Blottoed, blasted, etched and blitzed
Mellow, foggy, hazy, squiffy
Tipsy. Tiddly. Brahms and Liszt
Dazed, zombied, tanked-up, trollied
Ganted, gubbed, guttered
Bladdered, blathered, leathered, plastered,
Sozzled, sloshed, scuttered
Hammered, battered, caned, mangled
Spannered, mullered. Half-cut, lashed
Twisted, warped, slammed, wasted
Wrecked, ruined. Munted, trashed
Liquified, marinated, juiced, sauced,
Steamed, pickled, fried
Cabbaged, mashed, cooked, baked
Boiled, stewed. Pie-eyed
Stinking. Howling. Pole-axed, floored
Under the influence. Off one's woo
Steampigged, badgered, ratted, goosed,
Clobbered. Lairy. Boogaloo
3 sheets to the wind. Away with the fairies
Under the table. Tight as a tick.
Ankled, wellied, trousered, legless,
Bevvied, swizzled, pot-sick.
One over the eight. Out nibbling the grape.
Rosy. Rummy. Poggled.
Jober as a sudge. Laughing at the carpet.
Seeing double. Boggled.
Lubricated, oiled, pixilated, ploughed
Intoxicated, inebriated. On the grog
Wobbly, jungled, off to the races
Lit up, shot down. Cocked as a log
As a lord, as a piper, as a fiddler, as a poet,
As a newt, as a monkey, as a skunk
As a sailor, as a mouse, as a pig, as a fart
Muddled. Fuddled. Or just plain drunk
Words and experiences, many of us share
And I'm sure there's a few that I've missed
But while some get "tired and emotional"
I just prefer to get…
I glaze a look at the street, from
our apartment window.
You are coming slowly, teetering
one leg in front other, with back slightly hunched forward,
burdened with sleepless nights and yesterday’s undones.
Vibrant spirit once you had is lost, tossed among crowded
train wagons, useless meetings and broken deadlines.
One vein in the left corner of your forehead, swells, pulses in the rhythm
of your dark, fuddled thoughts as unremitting, sprouting baldness
reflects evening lights.
Still, I smile,
for you are here, with me in all this madness
we call life, half diced with wants and haunts that braid
every tomorrow we greet together.
I would like to put you in a different frame, picture of
nor “Yeses” nor “Nos”,
just us, being us, each moment celebrating
without lamenting for what “ifs” or “shoulds” and “coulds”.
Still, I smile,
as I watch you battle your restless leg syndrome,
wrestling to sooth demanding expectations,
lifted bars for higher remunerations, in constant marathon
of best comparison,
for you care, you dare.
I take your hand with eyes of approval,
life’s gigolo and gigolette,
ready to play each day’s illusive roulette.
If it is your dream to become a politician
It does not make you a saint or a magician
You will make mistakes, like everybody else
You will try your best and seldom think of yourself.
Love your country and your fellow man
Make the world a better place
Was your dream and plan
There was never a thought
About illness and age
Life moves on,
As our book turns over another page
Our body tires quickly, and our bones start to ache
Our eyes grow dim
It gets hard to stay awake.
Our minds get muddled,
And our gait unsteady
Our speech fuddled
But we are never ready
To admit we are old,
And we need to be told
We have had our day,
And it is wrong to stay
When we are old and ill
And can no longer fill
Our obligations
To the nation
It seems cruel and sad,
But life is not all bad
Old age comes to all who survive
And are fortunate to be alive
But if senility takes a hold,
You need someone to be bold
And suggest now is the time to go
Before your ratings become too low
And as your health is getting worse
You will become too sick to realise this curse
Can undo all the good you have done
So retire and sit in the sun.
The smell of dark coffee brews in early morn.
Such a treat to wake up to, when I’m groggy and worn
I’m not fond of fancy frothy coffee shop brew
None of them will really do
Unless you pour a spot of Irish Cream to fire up a few.
When my girlfriend Susie would come over to stew,
I always put on a fresh pot of dark roasted coffee to brew
I have always been a softy when giving her a caring shoulder
We enjoyed the bliss of coffee and Baileys Irish Cream liqueur
to make us bolder.
Friendship with laughter is a treasure,
with a sip of spiked coffee will always do with pleasure.
When I was young, Mommy would sometimes wake up
looking like a fuddled zombie,
but
as soon as she’d have her first cup of sugary with cream coffee,
she’d be our mommy again cooking us something good for our tummies.
12/3/3021
redo 12/9/2016
''Z'' Contest, New or Old - Poetry Contest 5. zombie
Sponsored by: Constance La France
original title: WAKE UP WITH COFFEE OR TEA
A fuddled mind surfs through tides.
Harboured, she sits by the sea doing nothing.
Her toes make electric touch with the water
Restless currents ... spark the sand.
She could see the ocean break into two parts.
Did the Ocean have a heart?
She had salt in her tears..
She had pepper in her eyes..
The briny breeze..why was it so bitter?...
She knew... she was a Cheater.
He had a heart of ocean.
A treasure of glowing pearls within.
She had pushed him off the coast of Trust.
He was shipwrecked by her deceit.
The tail of the Mermaid was hidden.
He could see only half her face.
Tranquil in innocence and ignorance..
He was blind to the treacherous disgrace.
Etched by the smouldering Tsunami
An island imprisoned her stranded.
The Mermaid drowned and drowned..
in the sea of encumbrance...
she thought...
Is there a second chance?
3rd November 2018
Tell me a story 2 poetry contest
Sponsor Brenda Chiri
PLACED SIXTH IN CONTEST