Long Gloating Poems

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


The Morning Soars With Skylarks Singing Repost

The morning soars with skylarks singing
o'er the greening meadow and the pliant pasture,
the ocean sighing, gulls aloft on wings of prayer.
A sudden shower would see me running
fancy free between the rain drops,
I cried 'Excelsior!' and set the hills alive;
I skittered, happy, crisp and clear, 
like God's first measure of a holy hymn.

The air alive with songs of praise, 
the gentle winds a sacred message,
His grand prescription like a dream
that streamed out from the pillows of the heavens.
I liked to wander by the sea shore
skipping stones, disobeying laws of gravity,
as a lamb on shaky legs and tumbled freely without care,
'til gasping, I would stop to catch my breath.

The halcyon days of youth came true,
when I would race forever 'neath the tawny sun,
bedaubed in Autumn's blood, the flame
a blend of hues the likes of which 
would make a young boy doubly blind,
and lead him into kingdoms where the battlefields
would blister scarlet, happy times
that made me see my childhood clearly.

The weather turned again, and shanties
high atop the hillside loomed like castles drifting
in the sea-blown mist, the noise of boats,
their nets pulled, nudging at the jetty.
From the sand the village was a hazy spectre,
the chapel steeple peeking like Rapunzel's lair,
her hair a daydream falling soft,
O fanciful imagination!

I thought to when my mother took my hand. 
We skipped the cobblestones and shopped for wishes,
toys which we could ill-afford;
a Batman cape, a red fire engine.
The lanes were thick with merchants and the joy of life,
haggling, chattering like crazy seabirds,
loud, and mouthing their wants and wares,
and then we wandered home exhausted.

I never lost my youthfulness, 
my joy at seeing herons gloating, eagles floating
high on zephyr'd breezes free as spring;
hallowed times, in Jesus' presence.
I measure now my moments as the hours shift by,
thirty years and blissful, regrets are slight and few,
I count my blessings, feel content
that tribulation never came to bother me.

A birthday cake is waiting for me,
candles flicker, frosting beckons, hope eternal;
my wish the same, for peace on earth
to all men, greetings and goodwill!
I lie down in the close and holy quiet 
while the village sleeps, and slips toward a new adventure,
safe in His keeping, perfect day
with promise of a bright tomorrow.
Form: Verse


The Morn's Alive With Skylarks Singing

The morn's alive with skylarks singing
o'er the greening meadow and the pliant pasture,
the ocean sighing, gulls aloft on wings of prayer.
A sudden shower would see me running
fancy free between the rain drops,
I cried 'Excelsior!' and set the hills alive;
I skittered, happy, crisp and clear, 
like God's first measure of a holy hymn.

The air alive with songs of praise, 
the gentle winds a sacred message,
His grand prescription like a dream
that streamed out from the pillows of the heavens.
I liked to wander by the sea shore
skipping stones, disobeying laws of gravity,
as a lamb on shaky legs and tumbled freely without care,
'til gasping, I would stop to catch my breath.

The halcyon days of youth came true,
when I would race forever 'neath the tawny sun,
bedaubed in Autumn's blood, the flame
a blend of hues the likes of which 
would make a young boy doubly blind,
and lead him into kingdoms where the battlefields
would blister scarlet, happy times
that made me see my childhood clearly.

The weather turned again, and shanties
high atop the hillside loomed like castles drifting
in the sea-blown mist, the noise of boats,
their nets pulled, nudging at the jetty.
From the sand the village was a hazy spectre,
the chapel steeple peeking like Rapunzel's lair,
her hair a daydream falling soft,
O fanciful imagination!

I thought to when my mother took my hand. 
We skipped the cobblestones and shopped for wishes,
toys which we could ill-afford;
a Batman cape, a red fire engine.
The lanes were thick with merchants and the joy of life,
haggling, chattering like crazy seabirds loud, 
and mouthing their wants and wares,
and then we wandered home exhausted.

I never lost my youthfulness, 
my joy at seeing herons gloating, eagles floating
high on zephyr'd breezes free as spring;
hallowed times, in Jesus' presence.
I measure now my moments as the hours shift by,
thirty years and blissful, regrets are slight and few,
I count my blessings, feel content
that tribulation never came to bother me.

A birthday cake is waiting for me,
candles flicker, frosting beckons, hope eternal;
my wish the same, for peace on earth
to all men, greetings and goodwill!
I lie down in the close and holy quiet 
while the village sleeps, and slips toward a new adventure,
safe in His keeping, perfect day
with promise of a bright tomorrow!
Form: Verse

The Morning Rings With Skylarks Singing

...inspired by 'Poem In October' by Dylan Thomas


The morning rings with skylarks singing,
o'er the greening meadow and the pliant pasture,
the ocean sighing, gulls aloft on wings of prayer.
A sudden shower would see me running
fancy free between the rain drops,
I cried 'Excelsior!' and set the hills alive;
I skittered, happy crisp and clear, 
like God's first measure of a holy hymn.

The air alive with songs of praise, 
the gentle winds a sacred message,
His grand prescription like a dream
that streamed out from the pillows of the heavens.
I liked to wander by the sea shore
skipping stones, disobeying laws of gravity,
as a lamb on shaky legs and tumbled freely without care,
'til gasping, I would stop to catch my breath.

The halcyon days of youth came true,
when I would race forever 'neath the tawny sun,
bedaubed in Autumn's blood, the flame
a blend of hues the likes of which 
would make a young boy doubly blind,
and lead him into kingdoms where the battlefields
would blister scarlet, happy times
that made me see my childhood clearly.

The weather turned again, and shanties
high atop the hillside loomed like castles drifting
in the sea-blown mist, the noise of boats,
their nets pulled, nudging at the jetty.
From the sand the village was a hazy spectre,
the chapel steeple peeking like Rapunzel's lair,
her hair a daydream falling soft,
O fanciful imagination!

I thought to when my mother took my hand. 
We skipped the cobblestones and shopped for wishes,
(toys which we could ill-afford;
a Batman cape, a red fire engine.)
The lanes were thick with merchants and the joy of life,
haggling, chattering like crazy seabirds,
loud, and mouthing their wants and wares,
and then we wandered home exhausted.

I never lost my youthfulness, 
my joy at seeing herons gloating, eagles floating
high on zephyr'd breezes free as spring;
hallowed times, in Jesus' presence.
I measure now my moments as the hours shift by,
thirty years and blissful, regrets are slight and few,
I count my blessings, feel content
that tribulation never came to trouble me.

A birthday cake is waiting for me,
candles flicker, frosting beckons, hope eternal;
my wish the same, for peace on earth
to all men, greetings and goodwill!
I lie down in the close and holy quiet 
while the village sleeps, and slips toward a new adventure,
safe in His keeping, perfect day
with promise of a bright tomorrow.
Form: Verse

If Trump wins rest in peace Mother of Freedom

If Trump wins...rest in peace - Mother of Freedom

Post mortem courtesy 
Doctor Demento yielded 
Lady Liberty lies slain...
videre licet knocked senseless 
from brutal blows upon her crown
simultaneously shouldering existential crisis
triggered nervous breakdown
though rendered mute 
sound of silence doth expound.

Forsooth impeachment hearings 
rendered him immune 
to chastisement, insurrection 
he did foment, blithely 
skirting impairment appertain
blood on hands of
self important president,
though alcohol he doth abstain,
nonetheless permanent drunken stupor
doth wax and wain

finger of guilt
damaging democracy points
to him as chief villain
groomed since... time immemorial
atavistic primate brain
bathed (courtesy Frederick Christ Trump)
buzzfeeding chosen favored heir
go for broke – as a red badge of courage
bankrupt countless times
and pulled out all stops,

viz unbridled thundering, 
espousing philosophy gain
amass wealth, unscrupulous
if necessary where,
might equals right cold play'n
deadly serious game (Life) train
sight squarely and/or roundly
scattered lovely bones
amidst tombstones testimony
incidental secondary fallout main

part and parcel, where legerdemain,
plus art of the deal linkedin
with immeasurable gloating
ego necessary to gain
con fetter writ oligarchy plain
successfully cheating, hocking,
milking, quaffing, and trending,
yielding dynastic rule
trumpeting eternal and carnal
stormy Daniels reign

vaping with wealthy
zealotry (think vain)
at electorate expense
tampering koolaid acid test
courtesy illegals sown GMO grain
colluding when/where possible,
never losing sight regarding
selfish mission to attain
obligatory ideal tyranny
rampantly running roughshod,

no need to explain
writing sleight underhanded profane
antithetical, critical, heretical quatrain
badgering, belittling, besmirching,
bilking, boasting, bragging with disdain
flagrantly flaunting, fleecing,
regarding purported B.S. degree
in economics he did attain
matriculating Wharton School of law,
hmm... methinks he paid

hireling from Ukraine
forever flirting, flouting, and flunking
even basic geography questions
case in point being 
where is Drury Lane
additionally, he ain't 
no literati familiar
storied quasi fiction Citizen Kane.
Form: Rhyme

The Morning Soars With Skylarks Singing

The morning soars with skylarks singing
o'er the greening meadow and the pliant pasture,
the ocean sighing, gulls aloft on wings of prayer.
A sudden shower would see me running
fancy free between the rain drops,
I cried 'Excelsior!' and set the hills alive;
I skittered, happy, crisp and clear, 
like God's first measure of a holy hymn.

The air alive with songs of praise, 
the gentle winds a sacred message,
His grand prescription like a dream
that streamed out from the pillows of the heavens.
I liked to wander by the sea shore
skipping stones, disobeying laws of gravity,
as a lamb on shaky legs and tumbled freely without care,
'til gasping, I would stop to catch my breath.

The halcyon days of youth came true,
when I would race forever 'neath the tawny sun,
bedaubed in Autumn's blood, the flame
a blend of hues the likes of which 
would make a young boy doubly blind,
and lead him into kingdoms where the battlefields
would blister scarlet, happy times
that made me see my childhood clearly.

The weather turned again, and shanties
high atop the hillside loomed like castles drifting
in the sea-blown mist, the noise of boats,
their nets pulled, nudging at the jetty.
From the sand the village was a hazy spectre,
the chapel steeple peeking like Rapunzel's lair,
her hair a daydream falling soft,
O fanciful imagination!

I thought to when my mother took my hand. 
We skipped the cobblestones and shopped for wishes,
toys which we could ill-afford;
a Batman cape, a red fire engine.
The lanes were thick with merchants and the joy of life,
haggling, chattering like crazy seabirds,
loud, and mouthing their wants and wares,
and then we wandered home exhausted.

I never lost my youthfulness, 
my joy at seeing herons gloating, eagles floating
high on zephyr'd breezes free as spring;
hallowed times, in Jesus' presence.
I measure now my moments as the hours shift by,
thirty years and blissful, regrets are slight and few,
I count my blessings, feel content
that tribulation never came to bother me.

A birthday cake is waiting for me,
candles flicker, frosting beckons, hope eternal;
my wish the same, for peace on earth
to all men, greetings and goodwill!
I lie down in the close and holy quiet 
while the village sleeps, and slips toward a new adventure,
safe in His keeping, perfect day
with promise of a bright tomorrow.
Form: Verse


Premium Member My Favorite Vacation

Once again the annual holidays came, a time of great cheer
We, the batch mates of 1976 planned a mega get together
We wanted to make it an occasion to be memorized for ever
Tracking old friends was indeed a laborious endeavor

A lot of discussion and phone calls had to be made
And finally the expected date and venue were conveyed
We decided to meet at a holiday resort/restaurant
In Kovalm, on the shores of the blue water crescent
Beside the sea strand with restless waves heaving-
A respite from the tumultuous striving for a living 

The gathering started off as a trickle, some came in time, some, late
Many faces were beyond recognition and found hard to relate
With nostalgic memories crowding in our hearts
And emotions of joy and longing choking our throats
We entered the conference hall in small streams
Its walls resounding with expletives of shouts, howls and screams
We were all set to partake in a communion beyond words and thought
And turn the pages of the past with memories fraught

Once everyone was seated inside, the formal session began
Followed by a self introduction, each trying to be as elaborate as one can
Travelling down the memory lane and helping the group reach back
The memory files, long forgotten and buried in the unused stack

In that salubrious ambiance we were all inclined to renew old ties
And rekindle friendship’s flagging flame before it dies
Felt we were still young with balding heads and graying hair
Expanding waistlines and bodies that needed constant repair

We remembered those who were deleted forever from life’s scroll
And thanked God for having got a chance to meet within that hall
The whole day, we sat and talked, sharing memories of our younger years
Gloating on and on about our literature class and our beloved teachers

We didn’t know that time was speeding past like a sprinting hound
With a sumptuous dinner, our session was finally wound round
And with a tearful goodbye, we bade adieu to all our batch mates
With a resolve to meet again whenever such a chance awaits

Though have traveled far and wide with family during vacations
This get together after decades stays happier beyond all proportions

Jan. 27.2022
My Favorite Vacation Poetry Contest
Sponsor- L. Milton Hankins
Form: Rhyme

I Worry'

It is very hard in this day of the computer to do God's work.
You might say, "How's that?" We have the information highway, and it's perks.
Well to me the old fashion way is the best,
Our fathers did his work, came home to his family, and took his rest.

Intrusion in our lives is upon us, with the worldly information at hand.
Even though computers, human kind doesn't understand.
Our precious planet is the only one that God has given us.
We pollute, trash the planet, and forget to respect God and Jesus.

God says in the latter days we will have no path, no real clue.
Mismanagement is what I see here, we are fault me and you'
Our nation was the greatest beacon to freedom at one time,
Through our actions we go on thinking that all is well, it's such a crime.

All is not well, Many other nations hate us and that's a real fact,
We as a nation have turned from God's law and we have really lost tract.
What happened? Why have we let ourselves and our children down?
Don't believe me' Take a good look around.

All of Human kind is at fault here.
Falling away from God and His moral laws, are very clear.
Our nation, along with other nations, are struggling to get ahead.
For this reason, the Devil, is rearing his ugly head.

God cast Satan and his fallen angels to this earth,
His evil has been here, long before our births.
He is laughing, gloating, with a gleam in his eyes,
Having a great laugh and fun at  our expense while our fellow humans try to survive.

Pretty soon our Savior will have to intervene in the affairs of man,
Or else we will destroy every living thing on this planet, don't you understand?
We have a chance to morally change our ways,
Or else we will really regret it, his wrath will be upon us in the final days.

We will be held accountable, the Lord of Abraham sees all,
He has allowed Satan to create chaos, we aren't prepared for this fall.
If we don't stop this nonsense the Lord will have His final say,
All are doomed to misery, suffering, will be the order of the day.

Global warming, water, should be our priority'
To return to God His world intact, to return to the real Christianity.
Let me make it very clear to me and you.
Our current path is total destruction, only God's intervention, will get us through.
Form: Rhyme

Worth Noting

5/9/22

Let me change my toning
Skills mastered and others still honing
I am not droning
People to this day passed away from a stoning
Continually condoning
With no cease to cloning
It's become often and corroding
Occasionally exploding
All the while a struggle to break through the coding
Something worth noting
It's harmful not beneficial, yet constant doting
Still too much gloating
Evil agendas many have been secretly promoting
Originally got to the spot by boating
Then thrown overboard now saturated and soaking
The body would be floating
Due to bloating
But it was weighed down from others hoping
It'd never see the light of day, or an investigation probing


More or less
Cause and effect
Correct, I'm still pot smoking
Go ahead and ask me how my battle with alcohol is going
I start dozing
From overdosing
Little if any good that did like loafing
And postponing
As well as screens always loading

It's a joke, no I'm not joking
Still adding fuel to the fire with prodding and poking
Eventually leading to a struggle involved with choking
For one party the outcome was croaking

A process of life and death, living or decomposing
All this goading
And foreboding
Opportunity remains yet the door is closing
Either after it or just ogling
It's pathetic or engrossing
Having to do with an article of clothing
Or a sharp point dipped in a toxic coating
Meanwhile maniacal egos they're stroking
No I'm not joking
Like all the boasting
Is there such a thing as safety when danger is always approaching?

Treated like garbage it's gross to me
In the end it always benefits them mostly
Just the truth, not looking at it morosely
Homie
Pay attention closely
Instead of overlooking it all like it's bologna

Regardless of it being clear, rainy or snowing
The wind calm or harshly blowing
You're out of the loop or knowing
Impacting how waters are flowing
Endlessly on it's growing
Radioactive and glowing
Causing harm with no chance of slowing
This is what evidence has been showing

Whether or not it is the time of gloaming
To this day still roaming
It's worldwide not just in Wyoming
Like a rabid beast at the mouth foaming
Toward their desires always combing
With missiles that are homing
Form: Rhyme

Farrago Go Again With My Gallimaufry

A nascent hodgepodge
     of gobbledygook from me,
or alternatively yours
     nada soo true lee,
this incipient harm
     less bumbling in das scribe
     hubble wordy monster prithee
lee, nonchalantly, and lovingly

     enjoys generating inscrutable mish
     mash vocabulary, 
     which vapid unsolicited
     largesse - from this dip see
dude dill ling, jabbering, dee
pull hoar rubble casket base,
     and quacking rub bush pre
mere ring this harried

     styled and swiftly tail
     lord gibberish - dee
lib writ lee doth
     write play full lee
to maximize obfuscation, dee
fie interpretation, and que
zook lee (quizzically)
     silently ha...ha...ha

     dis Matt chew wing,
     chuckling, unremarkably
     lamb baa sting king, she
push lee,  dauntingly we
sill lee (weaselly) undermining
     comprehension, whar ye
dear reader feel trapped
     without a turn key

continually sliding into this
old rotten Goth theme be
have (behave) Ural
     sink - as aye blithe lee
undoubtedly matter hoof
     act corroborate with (be
leave me you) this
     "FAKE" sniveling dee

mean nor (demeanor), the least
     bit concerned if ye
unfairly find mine cumber
     some harried style i.e.
spooner than later
     lore or mess free
dissociation, viz parched
     stream of consciousness me

thinks meandering into
     an oxbow lake hee
ping (by Dickens) yar rye
     ha (Uriah), where yar
tried patience probably
     didst syrup pass smoldering rage
     against this may pull leaf tree
cooly le (treacly) 

     slap dash helter
     skelter brash poppycock
     bereft, devoid, and fee
bully, sans ex tolling extra help
     pings of gibberish glee
fully - totally tubularly
     gloating how thee
moost experience

     utter frustration re:
garding figuratively wading,
     thru thicket of faux pre
tent shuss verbiage
     omitting even so mooch
     as a fore warning from
     this one percent nee
and dare dearth hull

     (Neanderthal) - as re:
veiled from genetic test
     23andme, an
     endeavor taken by me
eldest sister, - whose
     first name iz a male lee,
Harris - hyphenated with Mug gee
Hen (McGeehan).
Form: Lyric

Delusions of Green

Late within this certain night, 
Reflections of a friendship gone astray, 
Spiral above my thoughts as I readily ponder
What should be said if I were to speak
One last time to you my old freind

For unlike you, my eyes are not blinded
Nor are they binded, by false illusions
Of money and all it’s endless glories
For unlike you, I see the picture without  
Any false granduer, so very sad

Once, you were a close friend of mine
Now seduced by the allure of green
Intoxicated by money’s promises like rich wine
Ben Franklin is now your best buddy

Therefore, 
Loneliness is your newest  companion
And self-loathing is a constant reminder
Of the things you once had, 

So, have you any peace of mind you’d like to buy? 
Is there any misery you need to sell? 

Sitting there in self-imposed solitude
Engulfed by piercing silence
While your conscience taunts away
Like a chisel picking on a stone
Does your suppressed pangs of remorse
Haunt you as the echoes of the wind
Whale outside the window panes? 
As fond memories over immaterial things
Goes astray like leaves 
Bustling away in the wind

Sensations of being better than everyone
Causes self-gloating, but does Andrew Jackson
Smile back at you in agreement, or is it sympathy? 
Does all of Abe Lincolns’ reassurances
Fill the void of emptiness slowly burning away inside,

So, have you any happiness you’d like to buy? 
Is there any sorrow you need to sell? 

There was a time were you found yourself
Confiding in me, your past
A life of suffering and of pain
Inflicted by heartless persons upon
Which everlasting scars prevail

But now, you bow down to the green god
And in your prayers, what price will
Be the heal all for your wounds
One thousand, 
Ten thousand, 
Perhaps twenty
For this is what you conceive
To be the solution for all

I see the matter for what it is
Within time, perhaps those false visions
Of sun driven fields of prosperity
Shall be overlapped by dark clouds
And drenched by the fierce rain of reality,

Then, you will decide, 
Which is the greater of two evils
What having money turns you into
Or the things sacrificed for it’s attainment
© Mark Lee  Create an image from this poem.

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