Long Gizmos Poems
Long Gizmos Poems. Below are the most popular long Gizmos by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gizmos poems by poem length and keyword.
Unsolicited, revered, and praised
potential literary fete,
(yes a bit hyperbolic),
sans mine posted poems that perambulate
such feedback, whither donning trumped
("FAKE") facade, Oriel sincere
twittering, nonetheless tis great
for an ego striving to maintain
hum bull modesty, yet I hate
to be misperceived as
arrogant, boastful, pretentious,...wait
et cetera, cuz honestly,
these conglomerations create,
themselves, via some inexplicable
literary process which generate
prestidigitation soon after
affixing wired thinking cap,
whereby positioned electrodes exfoliate
on scalp yup thence, off miniature oblate
spheroid (suddenly barren) of golden locks
most soup Priam wantonly depilate
(envision candidate
undergoing biofeedback,
or...captured as bait)
by...yea (of course) alien invaders curious
to experiment, and subject a random pate
with out of this world tests that agitate
most precious anatomical accouterment
'bout size of average poe tate
toe (actually...almost same consistency)
okay...sorry, this chap doth relate
such comparison to
his own cerebral aggregate,
where he starkly realizes
neurological concentrate
takes a permanent vacation
to distant Palatinate
essentially leaving a void, ah...just
perfect for cosmic outliers to allocate
(no...no...no noninvasive, i.e.)
their laser like gizmos scrutinize how
(albeit unwittingly) to ameliorate
writer's block, thus
glad tubby ("Guinea Pig"),
and let abductors amputate
my killed expense trumped ("FAKE")
noggin pulp struggling to articulate,
(hence quite a relief,
you cannot imagine), dear mate
when fiber optic threads of light
essentially painlessly
(rather ticklishly aspirate)
clump of useless gray matter,
yours truly does implicate
as complicit to cause unnecessary
difficulty to associate
with *****sapiens, an extremely
strenuous task, thence joyful to dedicate
(without being headstrong),
an organ minimally missed at any rate
long last free to babble poppycock
oblivious as ambitious readers berate!
Mercy! How playtime has evolved since I was a Hoosier lad!
In the olden days you made-do with what little you had.
Our cell phone was a string stretched 'twixt two old soup cans.
That way we avoided strict federal communications bans!
Our swing was an old tire with a rope tied around a limb.
That, and a plank across a barrel for a seesaw was our gym!
My fishing rig was a safety pin hook with a willow twig for a pole,
Wherewith I spent languid summer days at my favorite fishing hole!
Many cold and snowy days were spent bundled in winter attire,
Racing down the steepest hills on my sleek Flexible Flyer!
Rainy days were spent huddled reading in a secluded nook,
Or crafting model airplanes that I happily undertook!
Though I savored a rowdy game of marbles, I was never very deft.
That saucy neighbor girl always beat us guys leaving us bereft!
In the pasture we made a diamond for our raucous games of ball,
Taking care, of course, to avoid bovine deposits, that above all!
On many a mellow, moonlit Hoosier summer's night,
We'd capture fireflies in mason jars on their wing'ed flight.
How did we manage sans all the gizmos kids now have at hand?
I suspect my grandkids would find my playtimes rather bland!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
[Written with Matt Caliri’s ‘Chapter One’ contest in
mind but too many verses (presuming that ‘three
paragraphs’ also meant three stanzas)]
*
Grayson Favour, private detective
Whenever the law of the land proves defective
And somebody has to do something effective
Grayson’s a man with a private objective
Grayson Favour, a man on a mission
Apprehends villains, that's his position
The loss of his parents invoked that decision
He now pursues gangsters without precondition
Phenomenal wealth he inherited young
He found the ‘right’ people to linger among
Asked a few questions, turned over some stones
Located the killers and buried their bones
Community service or suspended sentence
Even when vicious thugs bear no repentance
Police, if they bother, might track them all down
But then they’re released in the name of the crown
Today Grayson Favour pays fullest attention
To those who he’ll offer no legal detention
He dwells in a secret facility that
Would even impress the man often called ‘Bat’
These gadgets and gizmos and high powered tech
Beyond any force with a state funded cheque
Will aid in the hunt for the one they call ‘Raptor’
But that, my dear reader, will need its own chapter
It started in three thousand BC
When for survival, warning sounds were key
These utility communications
Building sender-receiver relations
Secular signs, religious ritual
The use of bells became habitual
Calling to worship or tolling the hours
Announcing events all from bell towers
Locating bells for pet rabbits and cats
For goats in the hills and cows on the flats
Such animals of all manner and form
Even the lead camel in a sand storm
What news of the ship in faraway seas?
Lutine strikes two as it sails on fresh breeze
Westminster must keep to the where and when
By the hour bell of the great clock, Big Ben
Times have changed, we live in this modern place
Technology seeps and invades our space
Now digital gizmos replace the bell
All that’s left is to sound its own death knell
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
2nd place in the Bells premier contest. Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues. Contest Judged 12/12/2023.
The sequel to this poem is Bell rings which you can find in my poems.
"Life must be a preparation for a transition to another dimension"
Terrence McKenna
We’re told it’s an event but it’s really a process
That it all flashes before us the moment we die
If that is true then I die daily
Track with me please as I egress
I’ve done the homework and the flashes lie
Despite their intentions, however gaily
And what of a moment or what is a day
Have they ever existed anyway
Man-made gizmos to help us reset
A thing we chose for which we regret
Or an unkind deed we’d hoped you’d excuse
Nay, manifest sperms from a younger man’s muse
I’ve ne’er been clobbered over the head
Nor slowly digested by a cancer bed.
Just too much time ingesting life’s ****
Avoiding the high road as the cadence said
When you my good man were born
You joined the army of the marching dead
Sacred and sordid private vignettes
Pass my sight as on display
for my review, soldiers from another day
Eyes dripping with future regrets
They’re too damn familial to let me see
My father’s carcass laid in-state in side of me
Serendipidies, Synchronicities, one way flights
Fortunes traded for stronger nights
Fair turned foul and foul trumped fair
Angels and devils dance side by side
Naked and primal to an ancient aire.
Passion and convention kibitz and collide
When there was no God upon my breath
When I hooked up with Lady Macbeth
Ceasing to be I still existed
Duly seduced by the good witch’s whispers
No epilogue in a comedy of manners
The plot became kitsch but so it persisted
Days will come when you’ll put it on paper
Sweating your numbers and so obsess
You soon start surfing on a yestertide
Their breath can reek of a lecherous vapor
And their flashes are but a vapor’s caress
Yet you, like me have survived
each day that you’ve died
A day filled with “jim-jam” stimulating my mind,
Appreciating a treasured moment in a priceless time,
Questions arose about the great divine,
Brought about a spinning “rambunctious” rewind,
For long ago life was “quintessentially” unkind,
“Gizmos” and “wing-dings” is where I drew the line
“Mickey Mouse” could never make things turn out fine
I needed a “blowhard” supernatural sign
When I “abso-bloody-lutely” realized how to shine
Neither” Nitpickers nor gender-benders” could take what was mine
A “penny” for my thoughts would not be sufficient for this type of dine
It was medicine for the soul and nutrition for ones vine
And just like a classic, aged bottle of wine
Revelation was esteemed this day, while being refined.
By: Sabina nicole
Childhood then was full of fun
as kids played outside in the sun
So different then, unlike today
with their gadgets and gizmos
that’s all they want to play
On rising with a picnic packed
we trekked all day with no route mapped
Made camps amongst the bushes and trees
as the sun went down, dashing home for our teas
No watching TV night after night
we played board games, did puzzles
maybe had a pillow fight
With fluffy white feathers
strewn over the floor, feigning sleep
as Ma banged on our door
We played conkers and jacks and hopscotch too
there was never a day we had nothing to do
The sun always shone from morning till night
when the moon shone down what a beautiful sight
We saw little green men having fun on the moon
and one day we dreamt we would fly there soon
So next day a space ship we built in the garden
made with rope and old boxes
we had claimed from the foxes
could be launched the next day ~ as we floated away
on another adventure, well what more can I say…
Contest Strand Choice M
Sponsor Brian Strand
A lot of fancy gizmos befuddle me in this technological age,
Where perplexing computers, texting and twittering are all the rage!
I can empathize with the feller who renounced horse and buggy days,
To subdue the baffling horseless carriage that became all the craze!
Clyde Schlunk reluctantly retired his faithful horse and buggy wheels.
He was the first in town to own one of those new fangled automobiles!
'Twas simple to harness a horse, feed him oats and shoe him all those years.
Now he must master complex clutches, cranks and shifting gears!
'Twas hard to break years of habits spent driving a buggy and horse.
He still had his buggy whip near at hand in the automobile of course!
When trying to stop the machine he'd yell, "Whoa! Nellie! Whoa!"
As he tried to avoid a tree or slid through slippery sleet and snow!
His erratic driving terrified chickens, horses and little old ladies,
As he whipped about that sedate little town like a bat out of Hades!
The only pain he suffered from his horse was a kick now and then.
But when cranking the carriage he busted his knuckles over and over again!
He still hollered "haw" to turn to the left and "gee" to turn to the right!
Did the town folks' ridicule bother him? Not by a blame sight!
Clyde never learned how to control those forty horses under the hood.
He couldn't rein 'em in causing all sorts of havoc in the neighborhood!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 2 in Joyce Johnson's "Your Very Best" Contest - February 2011
Shapes, colors, and surfaces have long nature shone.
Anthocyanin in plant sap gives blossoms their tone.
All tones in the universe bear upon humankind.
Waves and waterfalls etched them and mixed their shade.
Convey the can as you scale the stage.
Time-frozen iconographies suggest a swage.
Plenty of vivid glass catches the glow.
Irate particles romp on men's mental stow.
The reflection turns into a textual kaleidoscope.
Colored focal points require fewer scopes.
An orchestra of renovated wedded couples.
Flawless faith, hopeful person sees are ambles.
Portrayed as intelligent, smooth, and vesicated
Heartfelt, tribute, neologisms, and undefeated
Breeze, arthropods, tomorrow existence.
Immortal, everlasting, fluid, and uniqueness.
I cross the means no less than six times each day.
Shading hidden by business has changed our stay.
Medication and nutritious food scoundrels sell in the media.
Helping and executing purchaser lunacy mania.
A softness showed two similar views, one on each side.
The right eye sees truth while the left sees hatred.
Genius is connecting light shards social joy and bliss
He was imprisoned in an application's abyss.
Intriguing gizmos enrapture an expansive client base.
Fresh iOS and Android pimps are joining the robot race.
Expertise has supplanted skill in this serene stream
Rough labor, uniqueness, and prior heresy are extreme.
All these are linked to the hues glass and kaleidoscope.
Vision has shifted as a result of the modernity slope.
A lively soul distinguishes a plasma from a flower.
Portray our creation with the original god's power.
Written: August 20, 2021
August 2021 NA's Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Kaleidoscope Poetry Contest
Judged : August 23, 2021
The crowbar rattled at the clattering noise,
In the yard, against the hulls and hoys,
A Cloud of tar smoke rose through the green,
Large oil slicks floating on the lake sheen.
Inconsistent hills throughout the landscape,
The sunlight was a deep purple color shape,
Similar to the finishes of Florentine bronze,
That's it for the day, no real swans.
Overwhelming sadness now needs our song,
From death, an awful lot of sadness sprung,
What type of tears? What heart's grief arrest,
What sighs on sighs lobs the mom's breast?
With faint homes to brilliant ethereal light,
The enchanted guiltless has taken flight,
On the liberal bosom of undying love,
We find a concealed elevation above.
Warden, I realize you both mourn her loss,
She no longer feels the hold of pain across,
The regulations of elegance are without bias,
You can turn your pain into grace and praise.
The dread of the interminable assault,
The arrival of gizmos has long been sought,
All these notions had a major effect on history,
Each was a frightening age-related mystery.
The attack on slavery was nonsense,
Designed to hide the ambitions for pretense,
Never before has a tiny beast attacked so hard,
It just bites its horns and hides with its tiny shard.
Thoughts on webcasts, phone calls, Facebook,
Rising vitality contains attacks and an ebook,
Both were made by teenagers in their twenties
Bounty drives and precious realities.
Do not shed tears in the flowing river,
No real pain in the dark pits to deliver,
The first light was magnificently bright,
It was soon covered by the haze of the night.
This eliminates spontaneity, love, and anxiety,
It steals time and hides physical and moral piety,
Concept, politics, creation, and profit come first,
A blitzing slave was a lie to hide the curst.
1st Place Contest Winner
Written: September 08, 2022
Pick-A-Title, Vol 32 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh