Long Grook Poems
Long Grook Poems. Below are the most popular long Grook by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grook poems by poem length and keyword.
THEY SAID HE HAD A POOR ATTITUDE
HE WAS A SORE LOSER
A PERSON WHO TRAINED HARD
AND FOLLOWED COACHES INSTRUCTION
BUT WOULD SELDON TAKE DEFEAT IN STRIDE
HE WAS SEEN BY HIS FOOLOW COMRADS AS
A PERSON YOU WANT ON YOUR SIDE
BUT YOU DIDN'T WANT TO COMPETE DIRECTLY WITH HIM
BECAUSE HE LACKED A MORAL SENCE OF OBLIGATION
HE WHIND LIKE A BRAT.
HE'D CAUSE HIS PARTNERSHIPS TO LACK FOCUS
HE'D OFTEN BE SEEN WITH
FOES OF HIS FREINDS
CAUSING THEM TO NEVER REALLY TRUST HIM
HE LACKED A SENSE OF DIRECTION
AND WHEN THOSE WHO SAW COLLABORATIVE EFFORTS
WOULD BENEFIT BOTH
HE'D DO SOMETHING TO CAUSE VICTORY: BUT HE LACKED
THE STAY-IT-IST THAT TEAM WORK NEEDS
TO HAVE A COHESIVE GELLING.
WE CELEBRATED HIM AS BEST IN THE WORLD
THIS WAS DONE WHEN HE BECAME THE
FIVE TROPHY CHAMPION DEFEATING
A MAN WHO WAS SMARTER, TALLER, FASTER, MORE AGILE
AND SOME SAID MORE CUNNING.
HE SAW PAST HIS FAULTS AND DECIDED HE WAS THE BEST IN THE WORLD
AND ALL HE NEEDED TO DO WAS DEFEAT THE CHAMPION TO DO SO.
HE DID: SEVERAL PEOPLE WISHED HIM DEFEATED
THEY CONSORTED, PLOTTED, SCHEMED, AND EVEN CHALLENGED HIM
BUT ONE MAN SAID HE WAS EQUAL IN STANDINGS TO
THE MAN THE WORLD CALLED CHAMPION. a FELLA THAT REPRESENTED THREE COMPANIES AS CHAMPION, WON HIS SIXTH CHAMPIONSHIP FUSSING THE TITLES CREATING
A NEW NAME FOR HIS REPRESENTATION. SIX COMPANIES CALLED HIM CHAMPION,
HE REFUSE TO DEFEND THE BELTS SEPARATELY, AND HE
PUT IN HIS CONTRACT UNLESS HIS COMPANIES WOULD FULLY TRY ON NATIONAL TELEVISION TO SUPPORT HIS EFFORTS AS THE ONLY
AND TRUE COMBINED CHAMPION, HE WOULD FORFEIT THE TITLES CAUSING ALL SIX COMPANIES TO HAVE TO DEVELOP TOURNAMENTS.
WELL IT WORKED
SOMEONE SAW A PROFIT IN WHAT WAS HAPPENING
AND 11 COMPANIES CAN TOGETHER FOR ONE NIGHT IN COSTA RICO.
THEY CALLED THE EVENT
"NTAEUS'S CROWNING" THE MAIN EVENT WAS CALLED CROWNING ARTAEUS" THEY WRESTLED FOR 56:59 MINUTES WHEN THE TIME KEEPER RANG THE BELL.
HIS CLOCK HAD BEEN OFF SET. SOME CITED INTERFERENCE. bUT THE TIMEKEEPER HAD BEEN SWORN TO A CERTAIN LEVEL OF MORAL CODING.
BOTH CHAMPIONS THINK THE BOUT WAS AT A DRAW WERE SUPRISED TO HEAR, THE THE ATHLETIC COMMISSION SPEAK THE WORDS aNTAEUS vECTOR" WHICH MEANT A RESOLUTION HAD TO BE MADE. THEY DECIDED ON A TEN MINUTE CONTEST.
BOTH COMATANTS WRESTLED TO A DRAW.
He enters looking bedraggled, tired and worn out, his skin like Vellum, blank and pale. Lifting his eyes to catch their gaze he gives a slight nod to acknowledge their presence. He scans the room as he would a poem, looking for an Indent that leads to a quiet corner. A half-lit light casts a shadow on the flock wallpaper, (ink stained)! He sits hidden from view, away from plagiaristic eyes. Head in hand scribbling while listening for a new word. A muse sings, emanating an un-heard Beat that guides his rhythm while searching for that elusive vowel. On the floor a scattering of pencil shavings and broken lead... frustration at the loss of an adjective, the Half-Rhyme squeezes like a tourniquet on the brain...
Frustration runs high as Enjambment slips off the stage and gathers in reflective pools. The Lady Pastoral reads an Elegy to the passing of Sir Rondeau Redouble, he lead a very lonely life, ascending and then diminishing becoming less Didactic, the Footle holds a Lantern for the loss, while the Limerick found it quite humorous.
At the bar a Stanza of poets gather, disciples of Villanelle, and regale of their latest triumphs in Womans Quarterly. The Epulaeryu's compare their Diamante while eating their babba ghanoosh. At the pool table the movers and shakers decant opinions on the latest 'form' something to do with A.E.I.O.U...Acrostic looks it up and down looking puzzled, Blank Verse remains silent. They dissect, analyse the entrails, the faint hearted look a little Grook. The atmosphere is tense, Verbs drift like dust in the light, causing confusion, they mop their brows with a tired Senryu, the Haiku has little to say on the matter...
A Quintain of intellectuals quietly sit, the Sicilian sipping slim line Monoku's ( no ice ) hoping for a Couplet before the end of the night. On a stool sits the barfly spilling his Bio over the counter top exposing an Ode-ious life, (Metaphorically speaking). On stage the hottest group in town, Chant Royal and the Syllables...singing their latest Sestina, the notes drift across the room resting on the floor, congealing into a Poet-tree fountain, they feel at home as the last act MC McWhirtle enthrals with his Ballad, the barman Ric Tameter calls time, the evening is a Rap, the club is Epic...
Am I the only one to think
that a kite is such a sad thing?
Flimsy...frail...
never really free,
forever tied to a string
Yes, it can soar indeed,
so high, with the wind taking it places,
almost making it forget,
just enjoying the wind rushing through,
lighthearted
The wind drops,
then it gets snared
among tree branches maybe,
or perhaps stuck on a roof or elsewhere
with its string all tangled and knotted,
almost impossible to untangle
if made with paper,
it should be lucky to still be intact,
with nary a tear
more often than not,
it gets ditched in the trash,
the price to pay for
its momentary freedom
Sometimes, though
perhaps a rarity these days,
there is that boy who makes
that kite from scratch,
whittles the sticks himself,
painstakingly forming that frame,
creating that kite with love
So when it does get all tangled up,
that boy still tries so hard to fix it,
to make it new...
never minding the cuts
he gets in the process--
That string not meant to tie down
that kite,
but a lifeline to the boy
But like I said,
that must be a rare thing these days...
For I am one to think
that a kite is such a sad thing...
Flimsy...frail...
never really free,
forever tied to a string
** There are many of you who have helped me in my journey in writing, & my heartfelt smiley thanks to all of you but I'd also like to give thank you hugs and smiles to Chris D. Aechtner ^_^ I distinctly remember asking you about Sijo, wow when was that? 2 years ago? Back then, I knew I asked the right person--& from there, you've helped bring to light (& helped me appreciate) a lot of other writing forms, just talking about those forms was a blast, just you sharing some of what you've been learning along the way (& believe me, I've learned even a thing or two! can I just say this? I bet you'd make an awesomely cool teacher :D)-- from sijo, to limericks, to sonnets, to haiku and kimo, to than-bauk to that Grook! ook! Being mainly a free-verse writer, you've helped me diversify & that means a lot to me. So my heartfelt thank you for being there in my poetic journey, and for being my friend :D
oops. that wasn't a couple of lines?! lol
“Keep yourselves in the love of God, looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life." (Jude 1:21 of the King James Bible)
Lovers’ wedding midst virtual upheaval!!!
Confirmed fake news --- yet verily viral
surpassing its rival, truth that’s vital
though surely dismissed as vainly trivial
rumor is still sought for its grand arrival…
Thank God for love-propelled spiritual revival
through Scriptures’ assertion yon earthly survival.
Love-sick toward marital directive!!!
Great news of impact--- negative
from fatal infection, not positive
midst pink of health, surely affirmative
vanquishing fears, terribly obstructive…
Praise God; His compassionate grace is effective
Combatting sin-virus, grievously destructive.
Love’s bliss smites hatred-pain that’s traumatic!!!
Good news… awesome, but defied by skeptic
“Respect our perspective...” says a critic
Smiley greetings offend pessimistic
Oh, thumbs up signs cheer the optimistic…
Thank God for His love-poured blessings so fantastic
faith-claimed by every dogmatic or pragmatic.
Love life’s firmness starts from crush altitude!!!
Trending news lacking factual fortitude
Soon are media jokes midst fine rectitude
While miracle stories of gratitude
Stay flickering in silent solitude…
Praise God for His boundless mercy’s infinitude
Timeless for sharing love-care’s boundless magnitude.
(My attempt of Grook-series with five lines per stanza and two-line commentaries in bold.)
March 1, 2022
2nd place, "G - Give me a new poem- any form" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 3/25/2022.
Has anyone lived long enough,
To finish cleaning out the garage.
Has anyone lived long enough,
To see leftover room in kitchen cupboards.
Has anyone lived long enough,
To bear witness to a man who sees no need for anymore tools,
Or a woman who has no need for more shoes.
Has anyone lived long enough,
To find parents who are not living among wall-to-wall toys.
Has anyone lived long enough,
Not to be given pets as companions,
That eat better than you.
Has anyone lived long enough,
For outgoing rubbish to weigh more than what comes in.
Has anyone lived long enough,
To be taking care of only what they have accumulated.
Has anyone lived long enough,
Not to dread the words "Is this of any use to you"
When your partner is within earshot.
Has anyone lived long enough,
To say no to a plate full of Cholesterol from the well meaning neighbor,
Or the friend or partner who knows your needs better than you.
Has anyone lived long enough,
For a sticky lollipop not to end up stuck to your new suit pants.
Has anyone live long enough,
To see their children, clean up their own mess,
Before they start on yours.
I live in hope that I will be the first to do so,
And they will write poems and sing ballads in my honor,
With an invitation to write a textbook on "how to beat the odds"
For use in all schools.
My life would have been so much easier,
If someone had written one fore me
To read when I was three,
As I swear it is true,
People were sharing stuff I had no use for,
By the time I was four.
I guess some of us are just stuck with a magnetic personality,
For life.
Batteries for this,
Batteries for that,
Batteries that are for him,
Batteries that are for her.
Batteries that are charged,
Batteries that can be re-charged
Batteries that can no longer be charged.
Batteries that are flat,
Batteries that are thin,
Batteries that are fat,
Batteries that are round.
Batteries that are never used,
Batteries that are over-used.
Batteries that are more efficient,
but a different shape or size,
that means that tools that were once favorites,
now help the waste pile to grow.
Batteries that are only for brand related tools,
to increase the brand revenue.
Batteries that cost lives,
Batteries that save lives,
Batteries that can cause fires
Batteries that can be used in things to fight fires.
Batteries that are going to recycling,
Batteries that are going to be a recycling issue,
Batteries that are for toys that are never played with,
Batteries that are worth more than the toys.
Batteries that are attached to broken cords,
Batteries for instruments that play by themselves,
Batteries for computers,
Batteries for commuters who prefer not to converse with others,
And miss seeing the beauty that is all around them.
Batteries for clocks and watches.
Oh my kingdom for an hold fashioned watch,
That winds up instead of down,
That will keep perfect time,
Until I am no longer around,
Without the need to charge batteries to my account,
With interest charges that continue to mount.
Only then will my faith in the human race,
To consult for a better result,
For my view to become more positive than negative.
For the first time
since the end of Summer,
Mr. Nobody wears his socks to bed,
a sad admission that
things were going to get worse.
Can't count on the
warmth of mother nature's breast
to keep his mammalian nature intact.
When he wears his socks
and he pulls the thin duvet and the
extra purple woven Dacron blanket
up over himself he feels
warm enough to sleep.
The cat, Missy, who sleeps on his bed
wants to go out. This is Mr. Nobody's worse fear,
like a fear of urination
a fear that keeps him from resting.
Mr. Nobody throws off the blankets, rises,
swings his legs over the side of the bed
and rests his feet on the cold wood laminate floor.
He shuffles to the door
Missy follows.
Opening the back door, he feels
the dread of the betrayal.
Missy scoots out.
Now, before he can sleep, Mr. Nobody has to remember
to find her and let her in again, realizing now that
William, the male cat had been let out earlier.
He will have to recover them both.
Mr. Nobody doesn’t know why he cares so much
about the discomforts of the cats.
He doesn't know if they suffer the terrors
of the failing pact with nature as much as he,
probably they do not.
Mr. Nobody returns to bed, pulls the cover-sandwich package
over his legs then over his chest. He rests,
planning to rise in an hour to go out and find the cats.
Mr. Nobody is certain that when he calls the cats
after an obligatory time
they will agree to follow him,
almost as if they know what's
good for them.
I see in far side vision but imagination is you decision Two baby booming figures on a beach near a YETI with a caricature head on each Playing a game of rhetorical boomerang on the beachhead a little foreign sign The caption below says the blues they sang this is the life Yuppy! Yuppy! Pass me a lime and if they ask will blame it on the times
The tempest in a teapot,
sits there as it may,
though it bothers none,
that is bothersome,
though bother surely begot.
The tempest in a teapot,
sits there and bestilled,
control the free will,
is absolute nil,
but left alone it was naught.
A cluster of clucking hens,
tempts teapot defends,
foxes from their dens,
rounds bout like loose ends,
This court teapot it depends.
So tempest in a teapot,
neither cold nor hot,
what does one use you,
if you are naught true,
teapot through and through, begot.
Still answers naught my teapot,
... teapot you are naught,
on the contrary,
my temporary,
tempest through and through begot,
From over here, my teapot,
you can see better,
they call themselves stars,
from right where you are,
stars, and you--teapot you're naught.
Diamond high up in the sky
shines bright, naught know why,
craft gift, can't deny,
nor jinx goes awry
this conundrum, our black eye.
So tempest then, here again,
why do you remain,
you chose naught to leave,
nor opts just to be,
a tempest, teapot, but vain.
I am that I am, and I
know who I am, --(speak)
my abilities ...,
--(go on, we're listening,)
chaos and mayhem, ... my friend!
Oh, tempest in a teapot,
whate'er do you mean?
[Tempest speaks to those in shadows] You in shadiness ...,
INSTINCTS digresses?
[background howling chaos caused clucking mayhem]
*DEVOIR, --tempest in teapot.
*DEVOIR: performance of one's duty
Hitler's final attack on quote unquote
undesirable humans from the bile's of slave
ships prison camps European complete
infestation thee German female cock roach
feasting on poor captured humans and their
belongings during world war two carried to
America in the cracks boxes on boats
going for tea I turned on my kitchen light
what an ugly sight she stood there long
dark itchy hairy legs lips lined with flesh
pink liner she awaits a light in order to
scatter through any crack to slide into
homes windowpanes paneling door frames
once in side she scurries inside cupboards
closet prancing through old clothing one
in her nature she releases a powerful yellow
stench staining walls and furniture finally
the hairs on her legs make a god awful
sound alerting her the owners are coming
prowling in the darkness she hides inside
pages and pages books old letters photos
receipts leaving black dusty feces spreading
fecal matter carrying hundreds of eggs on
her back her selfish nature allows her to
actually breed alone without a spouse a
mate multiplying within the darkness of
Lucifer’s lair night crawlers leaving disease
and carney in her wake feasting in left
over scum crumbs damp wet old wood
someone screams look the time it takes
to open book splat swat frightening all the
guess truly horrifying to see exhilarating to
just smash or watch her run back up a tree