Long Gruelling Poems
Long Gruelling Poems. Below are the most popular long Gruelling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gruelling poems by poem length and keyword.
October seventeenth ninety sixty one ...
Born sixty one years ago,
the follow poem from your bro
transmitted courtesy flagship
named Jacques-Yves Cousteau
constituting countless ones and zeroes
instantaneously traversing cyberspace
as packeted, framed dataflow
binary digits bit of information
to acknowledge when
thee transitioned being an embryo
(approximately the second
to eighth week after fertilization)
approximately nine months prior,
whose birth marked debut
of bouncing daddy's little girl,
whose inquisitiveness nourished
birthed perception buzzfeeding
capital one earthlinked baby
fostering, kickstarting, and
orchestrating cognitive aptitude,
who throughout storied existence,
which kudos ye
proudly promulgate to and fro
hither and yon across
social media platforms
understandably, opportunistically, and
humbly letting family and friends
across the webbed wide world
know amazing accomplishments,
when ye did initially grow
from being precocious genetic pedigree
into a whip smart self confident
globe trotter, whose curriculum vitae
dwarfs (by powers of seven)
feeble accomplishments of mine,
went thee invested with a heigh-ho
positive state of mind
every endeavor undertaken
(in one physically gruelling instance)
biking, hiking, riding
to your private Idaho
(fast as a B-52)
versus humdrum life of one common Joe,
whose heightened perception
aside from singing the praises
of admiration toward youngest sister
after countless years, he failed to know
about her trials and tribulations
exercising your potential to the maximum
invariably feeling dog tired
with a dose of lumbago
thrown in for good measure
nevertheless adept as bilingual person
quite helpful travelling
to Spanish speaking countries
during your roaring twenties off to Mexico,
and just recently taking a jaunt
to Portugal donned accruing
vibrant sense and sensibility
treasuring richly pocketing nouveau
memories attracting natural outgrow
of ardent followers, whether online
or in flesh, who clamor for selfie photo
with thee and steadfast husband
unlike henpecked wife of mine
enjoyable as pesky miss Quito
who pesters me to get off computer
so she can binge watch Netflix
hence adieu as I hop on my cubii
off to complete
another stationary roadshow.
Hmm...What Discursive Poetic Theme Shall I Write About...
Today (a rather brisk, chilly,
and otherwise sat
tiss factory twirly delightful
December 18th, 2018) matte
her of fact quite
refreshing noontime, while this fat
tend plot of Earthen surveyed terrain
situated over scat
herd modest suburban tract,
(actually yours truly some watt
urbanely sprawled out) at
Latitude: 40.2538 Longitude: 75.4590,
where I sit pat
and think to write
about some reading material flat
touring my "FAKE" status
as king of agitprop for chat
hurrying class gussied up with
artistically crafted rat
tilly done up snazzy razz mutt tazz
(approved by Willard), this expat
lapsed Peterson harried tailored script,
asper previous peculiar
swiftly styled idée fixe
literary unnecessary, rat
tickly tawdry superfluity)
interspersed with dollops of splat
hard logophile, nonetheless gentle
on the eyes, yet feeling totally flat
and devoid of meaning, and quite
convincingly desperate idea this pratt
tilling far amore in the dell doth
expatiate, expound expressively, gnat
cheerily witty, (i.e. hint- please
pretend these humph fat
tickle lee meandering, rambling,
and warbling words) taxing
on mental faculty as bat
tan gruelling death march
physically, when circa
April 1942 Japanese forced
76,000 captured Filipinos,
and Americans Allied
soldiers to march about 80 miles across
Bataan Peninsula (province
in Philippines), where they died
enroute to...during World War II
on island of Luzon, espied
as a spiritual sanctuary hosted
by a knowledgeable tour guide
named Matthew Scott hood dons
genuine (musty smelling)
Tory wig to hide
as an alien alias (from the outer limits
of the twilight zone) incognito
even to himself, and especially the bride
of Frankenstein, who evinces a strong crush
toward said nondescript gentrified
vested gentry groundless thinker with pride
though, dirt poor (at least on the surface),
but deep down rich with
Schwenksville well watered
history harkening back to 1684,
when hoodwinked, jilted and lied
Lenni-Lenape Indians got fleeced
then taken for a ride
this land ceded to (stolen from) William Penn
nestled along the Perkiomen Creek.
The moonlit trees
Sway drunkenly against
The kaleidoscopic backdrop.
Their lunar shadows
Stagger merrily
Over the forest floor,
Gaze longingly
At mice and hares and move on.
Soon their tipsiness and incapability
To stay upright will come to
A gruelling hungover end
As the golden chariot of
Apollo returns for another day
To light the way home
For lost leafy souls and
Drunken arboreal oaks.
And Diana’s wit and beauty
Will once again be outshone by
The mothering nutritious glow of the sun.
Mamma, what a lovely angel you are
Before I came into this world you carried
Me for nine gruelling months,
Morning sickness and throw-ups
Is what I gave when you conceived me
And innumerable kicks from within
Unmindful of your pain
You prayed for my well-being
When you gave birth to me
You weren’t spared excruciating pain
You took that in your stride to give me life
Those were the happiest moments in life for you
Moments you had already experienced twice
But that did not diminish your thrill of
Becoming a mother all over again
You wanted a girl, I came along,
And you took that stoically
After two boys, you were justified
In wanting a girl
But that did not diminish
your love for me
I was left bereft of a sister and
blamed you
Inwardly, foolishly,
for not giving one to me
In my infancy, I made life
difficult and tiring for you
You took that as a challenge
and gave me the best childhood
a child could ever get
Yet, which child is satisfied,
I asked for the moon
In my growing days, you were
my source of boundless energy
Yet in my failures,
I always took refuge
in blaming you for my lethargy
You took my selfish behaviour
with a wry smile
And put it away assuming it was
an adolescent’s innocent guile
It was not as if you pampered me
and didn’t spare the rod
Whenever you felt matters were
getting out of hand
You took control and spanked me
to show who’s boss
And when I sulked, you smiled
and offered me candyfloss
As a young adult, I began
to understand your sacrifices
How dame luck connives
and throws life’s unfair dice
You helped me conquer
my every weakness with flair
And taught me the value of
dealing with people fair
You were always there when
I needed you the most
Now, that you are not there
I feel inadequate and lost
I am learning to live and cope
like a hapless child again
Hoping time heals and I shall
my confidence regain
Mamma, I salute you
For the way you restrained
And sustained me.
May your soul rest in peace.
Always been blessed with “stick-to-it-ness”
Got it from my dear old dad
He once rode a bike three hundred sixty miles
Took four days each way, egad!
At any age, that's quite an accomplishment
But my dad was sixty years old
From Montreal to Toronto and back again
A feat so gruelling, so bold
A wee one of ten back in nineteen forty-six
Didn't hit me till many years later
The impact of his enormous accomplishment
It then seemed a whole lot greater
Been telling this proud tale wherever I go
Bout inheriting his “stick-to-it-ness”
Don't think I can even come close to matching
The resolve and dedication he possessed
Meet mystic mind where wonder waits,
Yield to fine grace in profound sight;
See surreal signs here at the gate,
Touch tranquil trace in love's sure light;
Intent sparks clear such bubbly sounds,
Choice charms calm chase in floral blooms.
Quest beyond fear grips gruelling grounds,
Urge spreads a balm as feelings zoom;
Obsess grand surge of mellow flow,
Thought quotient brings such myriad waves;
Ignite and merge warm pulse that grows,
Etch ardent swing as movement saves;
Note happy times in curious hues,
Taste patterns chime in vibrant cues.
Leon Enriquez
05 April 2018
Singapore
NEVER SAY DIE
The pole star disappears in the tempest on high sea,
the ancient mariner in you loses the bearing awhile.
Morning sends the sunbeam from the rising horizon,
the course to the green shore for you gets defined.
If you lose a race on the stretched track called life,
don’t forget you have a long marathon ahead to run.
After the gruelling effort you’ll reach the winning post,
and find life waiting there to offer you your due prize.
If you’re lost in the labyrinth of living, trying to escape,
and find the exit doors getting closed one by one,
don’t lose hope for at the end of the tunnel
another door will open and you’ll see light appear.
If the hours of the day run out fast for you,
the sky falls with the dark night of misfortune,
don’t forget the sun must set to rise once again.
So, wait for the sunburst morning, never say die.
February 28, 2019
Contest : Pick A Title
Title chosen : Never say die
Sponsored by : Edward Ibeh
Always been blessed with “stick-to-it-ness”
Got it from my dear old dad
He rode a pedal bike 360 sixty miles each way
Took four days there four days back!
At any age, that's quite an accomplishment
But my dad was sixty years old
From Montreal to Toronto each way
A feat so gruelling, so bold
A wee one of eleven back in nineteen forty-six
Didn't hit me till many years later
The impact of his enormous accomplishment
It then seemed a whole lot greater
Been telling this proud tale wherever I go
Bout inheriting his “stick-to-it-ness”
Don't think I can even come close to matching
The resolve and dedication he possessed
"What day is it?" the matron asked
"Valentines" came the reply
A twelve hour shift, while on your feet
Sure makes the time fly by
Quite unaware of treasured days
So taken by her duties
The soul inside her laboured body
Is a living, breathing beauty
Lain, row on row, for theatre
I listen to their stories
A bid to put the ill, at ease
Their spoken, homespun glories
Among the walking wounded
A Soul could soon get lost
Whilst, for themselves they seldom care
And rarely count the cost
It doesn't take an Einstein
Nor years at University
To show such sweet compassion
In the face of such adversity
"The day is nearly over"
The 'tune' that gets them by
As each gruelling day repeats itself
In a Nurses Lullaby
Lining up for mediocre service
At the counter for the human zoo
Waiting around like stagnant Zombies
With nothing left to chew
The lifeless agent behind the bulletproof glass
Bellows out the next number in her que
Only 82 more calls and my numbers up
Setting in place my angered mood
Finally 4 gruelling hours later
I see im next in line
Then she bellows again to my dismay
Its 5 minutes to closing time
Im called up before they lock the door
She says sir theres more info you must provide
You will have to return tomorrow
Come early and get in line.
I rendered her my best pissed off smile
And said i live 2 hours away
I had to take a day off work
And lose my needed hard earned pay.
She picked up her lunch and left her booth
Disregarding every word that I conveyed
And left me reeling like a psycho killer
With my melting point swiftly on its way.
But i left without causing bodily harm
Or going Postal to satisfy my rage.
But now i understand fully how people lose control
Once you provoke them from their cage.