Long Glibly Poems

Long Glibly Poems. Below are the most popular long Glibly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Glibly poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Global order'

Glibly goes; the globalists line deprivation is freedom
And eternal war is so fine' repression of the west that
Had afflulence and health.' That might spill over? to the
Third world..Kept upon its own shelf.' By empowered
Populations un-predated by war, in appreciation of advances, from the decades gone before..As thought
Pharoah Tutmoses; the second to none? The folk in
General are most numerous, of my riches whats is to 
become? So he made 'interventions and punishments'
Hard.! to deplete them in number..To kill young males
His trump card.' And yet there was plentitude, innovation
All was well.' Now his agressive intention unto evil actions
Would sound the death knell.'
Form: Rhyme


FROM SANTA CLAUS XMAS 2011

written twelve years ago
when yours truly about two score 
and twelve years old,
and fishy financial fiasco
about twenty six weeks
before being scalloped
courtesy villainous fraudster
otherwise known as scam artists,
blithely, glibly, and pliantly
fleeced with shear trickery
my coveted nest egg.

TO: TWO PRECIOUS HARRIS LASSES 
WHO LIVE ON GREENTREE LANE
THIS FAST APPROACHING CHRISTMAS HOLIDAY 
AS WILL READILY BECAME PLAIN
RECEIVED A SPARTAN GOVERNMENT LARGESSE 
WHICH AFFORDS PRESENT 
ONLY ONE BOX OF COAL APIECE
DISAPPOINTMENT THIS PA 
HUMBUG HO HUM FELLOW 
WILL TRY TO EXPLAIN. 

OUTRAGEOUS COSTS 
TO CLOTHE ELVES 
WHAT WITH DESIGNER CLOTHES
AND THE LATEST TECHNOLOGICAL GIZMO
NEARLY BROKE THE PIGGY BANK 
IN ADDITION TO FEED THE REINDEER 
COMPOSED OF BUCKS AND DOES
THIS I TELL YOU 
TO BE EARNEST AND FRANK
WHICH GRUELING BUSINESS 
NEARLY FOUND LITTLE ASS(ETS) FROZE
THIS GOVERNMENT ACTION 
NO HALLOWEEN PRANK
NEARLY FOUND ME BEHIND BARS 
ADDING TO UNFORTUNATE WOES.

SMALL TOKENS ACQUIRED 
BY THE ABILITY TO SCRIMP AND SAVE
A PITTANCE COMPARED 
TO LAST YULETIDE
YET NO INTENT TO BE MEAN SPIRITED 
NOR RANT OR RAVE
FOR BOUNDLESS LOVE SPILLS FORTH 
FROM SENSITIVE PRIDE
NO MATTER SOME 
PERCEIVE ME UNSAINTLY 
PURSE NICKETY KNAVE
RANK AS A WORSE CREATION 
THAN FRANKENSTEIN’S BRIDE.

TRY TO REMEMBER 
TIS THE THOUGHT 
FROM WITHIN TO GIVE EACH
AND EXTEND THE SPIRIT 
OF GOOD CHEER
THAT COUNTS MORE 
THAN SPEND LAVISHLY 
AND TO REALLY TEACH
SO CHERISH EACH 
AND EVERY MOMENT 
WITH PASSION TO SPARE.

NOW ONWARD AND UPWARD HO
WITH THE SOUND OF SLEIGH BELLS 
BACK TO THE NORTH POLE
THIS POOPED OUT HERD WILL GO
AND THE EXPECTED GIFT 
FROM THE MISSUS A LUMP OF COAL
PLUS A LAUNDRY LIST 
OF DUTIES PERFORMED 
WHILE ENDURING TEMPERATURES 
(INCLUDING WIND CHILL FACTOR)
THAT FEEL LIKE…
WELL BELOW ONE HUNDRED BELOW.
Form: Rhyme

Anchors Aweigh Destination Unknown

Anchors Aweigh...Destination Unknown

Weather beaten cap'n,
     and watertight bewitched craft
time tested since maiden voyage
     (circumnavigating the globe
back in the day
of my youth),
I ranked tough as a pitbull,
     when severely pitted

     against raw elements
     of swiftly tailored,
     harried stylish nature
     against leathery faced
     reptilian skin, hard drinking
(actually as corked
poetic convenience - vermouth
arbitrary bottle of choice

     if for no other reason,
     than to rhyme
     with the above line),
and tobacco spitting, while

colorfully swearing as an uncouth
Furies (of Agamemnon) fighting (tooth
     and nail) Pirate,
     where rickets, scurvy,
and thrice unconscious,
currently ample proof
could not forsooth
bring me to

     Davy Jones's locker,
     cuz I never wanna
get relegated to an underwater
whale schooled booth,
this raconteur can nonchalantly,
glibly, and blithely attest,
with braggadocio, despite
no warm welcome will

     ever greet mine tinnitus
     pained ears, I can plainly
imagine acrimonious retort
upon me behest
his far more'n lifetime
bobbing (like a sponge)
buoyed atop crest
longing e'en for

     (carping, caviling, hen pecking,
     or shrewish) wife,
     and loving family
forsaken, sans living
antisocial upon briny deep divest
many opportunities to
experience wedded, webbed
and whirled bliss,

and hence for everest
as bachelor, especially
     at present junction
     of twilight years,
     my crude manners
makes foreign (for
an) ill suited guest
boot e'en if yours truly

     became inured to life on land,
(as a "FAKE" father figure
feathering his nest
my coarse behavior, as basic
electric koolaid acid test
     would force even

the most tolerant proprietor,
perhaps a bank
manager at Univest
would utter VAMOOSE,
     e'en if eye covered up
my heavily pierced,
and tattooed breast.

Boyce Brandon Harris Bright Brooklyn Bruiser

(alternately titled: Zayda born April 9th, 1929)

e'er since his birth,
     his daring do didst not abate
the penultimate most spectacular
     concrete incontestable product

     constituting biological offspring
     developing, fashioning,
     and incubating gene nee us,
     he unwittingly didst create

encoded whence he got conceived
     approximately begat circa
     July nineteen twenty eight,
and hence upon April ninth

     two thousand and eighteen
     cometh denoting exceptional great
ness among kith and kin innate
awareness to take stock and celebrate,

how a series of fortunate events
     commencing with a date
to Harriet Kuritsky
     (at that time, yet to pledge her troth)

     accepting storied handsome fellow,
     whose constitution sturdy as "forest" timber
     (definition of groom) to be lawfully wedded wife...
     until death do them part)

     unwittingly marriage didst emancipate
my mother, who met a awful, cruel
     and terminal undeserving fate,
which tortured demise, the grim reaper

     gladly, gleefully, and glibly
     held her steadfast
     thru death decreed grate
a permanent life sentence,
     she vehemently did hate

and fiercely fought tooth and nail
     (unimaginable to me,
     thee sole son), how
     agonizingly bitterly clearly irate

such suffering wrenched, wrought, wrung
August marriage permanently
     cleft by malicious, nefarious,
     and opprobrious tongue

no heroic measures, only lamentation slung
upon the livingsocial clinging,
     where grief rung

every last ounce,
     though thru each passing year
thy mum gone thirteen orbitz
     round the sun, that shear
ring raw emotion
     still persists in concert with lear
ring grimace of deathly hallows, 'ere

obstinate heart ache lessened now
since papa found bliss
     in which to steer the prow
of his four score and nine

     aged ship of state row
wing (or more or less peacefully drifting)
     berthed in consonant with vow
wills - a staunch spirit does wow!
Form: Lyric

Premium Member Why There Is Something Rather Than Nothing

(“Something From Nothing”, 2024, original encaustic)

Why There Is Something Rather Than Nothing

The great questions of existence
Arise and revolve around just that; existence.
And if not for this existence
We wouldn’t wonder…

So there IS something after all
Although something slippery and luminous
Not as tangible as it seems
Or tangible as we’d like.

But it is here, after all,
The very here and now of our…
Existence 
(again, always coming back to that basic ground).

But then what of nothing, 
Is it even possible?
Is it what was before something? 
And if so then is it still?

Although can a nothing even be before a something
Since a nothing just isn’t?
Here we embrace the practical real life wisdom
Of the good doctor Seuss.

So why is there something rather than nothing?
Because there simply is, 
Because there always has been,
And because you can’t play at being alive without something to play with.

But more fundamentally
It’s because what we so glibly call something
Is in fact something more 
Than we can ever know.

And knowing, while a curious and delightful epiphenomena,
Is nowhere as fun as simply being and doing.
If you doubt this,
Just ask my dogs.

As they say,
The best things in Life
Aren’t things,
And they certainly aren’t nothing.

(11/2/24)
Form: Narrative


Premium Member Fickle Flight

As moonlight strolls where sunlight glibly danced
along the awkward stairway to the lake,
I chased my mind but didn't have a chance
to catch its bouncing beams across the wake.
I wondered why the moon's path always seemed
to find me hidden somewhere on the shore -
no place to hide nor question without dreams,
was it just me alone that it adored?
So simple and complex our lazy thoughts
that stop to take a measure of the night;
alone is where each perfect peace is fraught
with truths that tangle minds in fickle flight,
just like the frantic course of wayward sparks
that drift until they're lost within the dark.


April 9, 2019
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Empty Prisons

They kill a body and to prison go
Behind the bars with time they have to pay
A life that’s deadened with a life exchanged
So law and justice see the light of day

But tell me what of those who kill the heart
Who murder love and glibly walk on by
Incarceration is not their reward
The weight of guilt to bear, they do deny

A greater crime than this is yet to be
To kill a heart and form the living dead
Someone who walks and talks but is not real
Who shoots away the day and weeps in bed

Imprisoned they should be who now walk free
A murdered heart, a greater crime must be!

Jade Celeste
Form: Sonnet

With Gods and Kings

The soul is right
The soul is good
It gets no credit
Perhaps it should

Deserves respect
Demands acclaim
We give it up
In someone’s name

Maybe a god
Maybe a king
A pleasant voice
That truly rings --

A handsome face
Virile and stout
Yells when to throw
The garbage out

We like our kings
We cheer our gods
They claim that we
Defy the odds

And exert sway
Over our paths
I think a heard 
Some god just laugh --

No I am sure
One of our kings
Went to his bank
Glibly skipping

Walking on streams
As kings are wont
Best seats in every
Restaurant

While you and I
Just have to wait
And drool upon
Our meager plate

My how they lead
And how we swoon
We get all hot
On honeymoons

And throw our lot
With gods and kings
Who bind our beaks
And smash our wings

Then stuff us with
Their bullish lies
And pluck our young
Before our eyes

I hope you toast
Your god or king
Before your meal
This Thanksgiving

I hope you’re stuffed
When you are done
I hope your team
It will have won

Two minutes left
Til sudden death
When you’re that full,
Hard to take breaths

Or take a knee
In solemn sight
Of every head
Itching to fight

There, in the stands
You’re circumscribed
By gods and kings
Who write your lives

	November, 2020

Yesterday

In her tear and dirt streaked face
Her melancholy eyes still seek
Shifting memories that flit and flee
Shadows of the past still speak

A Spark of Hope for each passing glance
Searching for her love long gone
Rain or shine in this spot each day
Rejection plays its own soulful song

Deep in the echoes of her sighs
An unrequited love not died
Whispered words speak of eternal love
Tripping glibly off a tongue that lied

Yet she lingers on a departed promise
Her nuptial dress ragged with age
A key deliberately tossed-discarded
Trapping true love in a rusted cage

To her tear streaked cheek a locket she holds
I see a beauty that once was strong
And I weep for her and her shattered heart
Holding broken dreams - far too long

If I could but give her back her YESTERDAY
Bestowing on her a true love to stay not stray

Footnote:

Dedicated to an unknown melancholy young lady whom I saw sitting in a busy subway dressed in tattered lace, with a soulful look in her eyes and it instantly brought the Beetles song ‘Yesterday’ to mind.

The verses are not written to match the music.
Form: Verse

Premium Member A Fortune Cookie

Tonight my sweetheart shook his head

                              As fortune cookie note was read

                               A baffled look; his countenance

                           "How do I take this? Makes no sense!"

                          He read it out to understand, that little 

                                      slip held in his hand...

                       "You're as intelligent as you're good looking..." 

                            He paused a second, I could tell that

                                phrase was really cooking

                         Then glibly, in his satire, he gave that

                                         slip a flip

                          He rephrased the cookie's fortune, 

                                A misfortune quip...

                             "That could mean I'm ugly,

                                As Ugly as I'm dumb!"

                          He threw the cookie in the trash

                           And swept away the crumbs

                             I found the slip of paper

                          That message was quite grand

                       I'm thinking he's the smartest guy

                             In all the blessed Land!
                     
                             And so the little fortune 

                           Has grasped me in an awe

                         To me, he is the handsomest     

                               Dear man, I ever saw!
Form: Rhyme

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace