Long Histrionic Poems
Long Histrionic Poems. Below are the most popular long Histrionic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Histrionic poems by poem length and keyword.
Those who live an artistic life are genuinely soul-aware.
It is as vital to the human spirit as is the air.
Artistry, sculpture, and landscape design are creative,
That's around spiritedness that pulls and is probative.
Bury my heart in the wounded knee where even harm,
Battered gallows have histrionic gems and charm.
A ghost wrapped in a thicket of death rug toss,
Eigenvector fade marble eye fabric dross
Slap my lips with a cudgel, ruminant, spewing mere,
Apathetic brows cursed with sin shudder with fear.
I clasped my hands, viewing fake hooks and blows spare,
I may sleep freely on the rope or walk as drifting in the air.
Free from obscure sights, free from guilt,
I translated the chain that bound my spilt.
Each time the human spirit is apathetically ground,
Somewhere in the cold, an answer can be found.
Victim of its erratic walking and constant cold,
Lost and bastard, inquiries are permitted to be trolled.
You stay stoical and equanimous under a dearth,
You, the human spirit, are the nucleus of the Earth.
Yet, I took this mystery with me to the grave,
As of now, please note that I crave to rave.
I believe that fair things will win out for people,
When I dared not be the one to be motile.
Milk is insufficient for acts of human kindness.
The stomach can churn and be mindless.
Milk and whey used to derive cheddar or skim milk.
There are various choices for insights ilk.
Written: September 17, 2022
The Human Spirit Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
Historic flood
There are a few unread books on me
bookshelf and they will stay that way
I needn’t everything in print.
My depression hangs in the landscape
streaks on dusty window panes tell me
the obvious: clean me now!
I wait for the pharmacy to open after
the lunch break, hope it is not full of women
talking about pills, illnesses and diets.
I’m not watching TV today I need not
to know more about the storm everyone
talks about, I have seen it worse.
Soon I will be stopped by a hero telling
me he was in New York during the histrionic
storm which made the governor famous.
The apothecary should be open now
better hurry and don´t worry
what the afternoon newspaper prints.
'Twas a dark and stormy night! (OK! So I'm being a tad histrionic!)
The Earl of Pence was lounging by the fire sipping his gin and tonic.
Lightning flashed and thunder roared sending shivers down his spine!
Even his hound, Lord Percival, was so upset that he began to whine!
'Twas well-known thereabouts that phantoms haunted the earl's castle,
And on such frightful nights they were bound to cause spooky hassle!
Nefarious deeds had occurred within Penceford Castle walls in the past,
And were replayed in 'spirited' form leaving generations of earls aghast!
A shriek from the bowels of the castle sent the dog into howling fits,
And brought the earl bounding to his feet, scaring him out of his wits!
The blood-curdling screams were from a former Earl of Pence who in 1642,
Was hung by this thumbs in the dungeon for a fair maiden that he slew!
Suddenly, the ancient organ in the hall began playing eerie chords.
Heard on the floor above was rowdy dancing by ladies, knights and lords!
Ghastly emanations from the past paraded through the terrified earl's room,
Antecedents all, leering and grinning predicting the anxious earl's doom!
Lord Percival sensing trouble long before for the door had bolted!
The storm subsided and the apparitions faded leaving the earl quite jolted!
The earl felt a bony hand upon his shoulder that took away his final breath.
'Twas his valet who offered a gin and tonic to the earl who now lay in death!
Entry for Tania Kitchin's "One Night in A Haunted Manor" Contest
(8 January 2019)
If you had to pick...what’s your kind of comic
Do you find you pine for slick ironic
Or get behind a line that’s quick..sardonic
Opined by design.. aligned to resigned laconic
Unkind with the mic..sick at taking the mick
Defined by sly dry wry alcoholic hyperbolic frolic
Or less refined grind.. moronic the comedic tonic
Swoon at boons of the goons or cynics picnics going manic
Ready as lampoons buffoons with an unsteady heady histrionic
Idiosyncratic…emphatic witticisms..feeling victims reeling.. erratic panic
Keen lyrical hysterical mean criticisms scene stealing whims.. talismanic
What about who croons your tunes …go slow..metronomic
Choose the muse & fuse of rhythm & blues.. free flow tectonic
More giddy Philly Delfonic than tidy Taffy Stereophonic
Or raw roaring baselines scoring plus eleven ..soaring supersonic
Soul or rock & roll heaven.. acolyte delight.. bright totemic
Atrocious Metal in ferocious fine fettle...furiously demonic
Bespoke notes of sublime folk strokes always curiously bucolic
Pizzazz…elite razzmattaz of jazz.. seriously neat hedonic
Classical..technical feat regalia…deliriously sweet symphonic
Dance hall & reggae.. calypso beat.. all imperiously euphoric
Quadrophenia paraphernalia or more quadrophonic
Wurlitzer chutzpah delightfully or frightfully electronic
Tip top non stop hip hop drops like Dre’s the Chronic
Don’t do generic…when you could do mesmeric
Wiggles or giggles.. this is a witty ditty polemic
To big up shindigs..grins at gigs..sins at jigs…guffaws & encores..stratospheric tunes & comic buffoons..scores on the doors...simply iconic!
Jaded.
Cascaded.
Faded.
I retaliated.
Alienated.
Isolated.
I changed it.
Reframed it.
Battered it into submission.
The abyss that ignored my name—
That stagnant stage that stayed the same—
I busted it up.
Tore it apart.
With teeth, with nails, with rage.
My bitterness, boxed in a cage.
I am a woman scorned.
Properly, pointedly warned
About playing nice with unkind boys—
I did it anyway.
I’ll do it again.
Unless stopped by a trainwreck
In a leather coat, pockets packed
With heavy flicker hymns and haunted facts.
Healing stab wounds with bare hands,
Pressed to my bruised and cracked chest,
Leaking regret.
A man by any other name
Still reeks of old spice and shame.
I only need a joy ride
Into the dreamscape’s drifting tide,
Where trees bend low to bow and breathe,
Their musk and pine a whispered wreath
Inviting me into the realm
Of lust, desire, and fire-fed calm.
Branches brush my aching skin—
A welcome wrapped in woodland hymn.
I am not that complicated.
Though my pain, layered and laminated
Like geological canyons carved in stone,
Matches my internal rue—
A structure built to stand alone.
I can grow a man roses from rubble.
Just give me rosaries, rubies, and rubels.
I admit my earthly needs.
I am an investment, not a scheme.
I saw a world I hated.
I sublimated.
Evaporated.
Changed my state of being—
From rigid to roaming, mist into meaning.
Cold datapoints and sterile streams
Reformed into wisdom, stitched into dreams.
He tried to hold me subdued.
Silenced my dreams with histrionic moods.
Overwhelmed my senses,
With intentions sharp and sentences crude.
I was a prisoner of shame.
And there I remained
For a near decade.
I broke the chains.
Escaped the plush, performative pain
Of pseudo-companionship’s velvet cage.
Now I’m agitated and raw—
Midway through my emotional overhaul
As I transform from meek to sleek,
From silence to sovereign speech.
I will not take silence as an answer.
I will shake loose your response.
You cannot ignore me in oblivion.
I am here to stay.
You have the option:
To be a benefactor
Or de facto arch enemy—I know.
I am aware of where I stand,
And what I wield in my streamlined hands.
I am not simply a pretty creature.
I am not solely for looking.
I want touch—not merely tender,
But true.
Is that you?
The authors and their associates wish to offer an enthusiastic round of applause to The Bywater Bone Boys Social Aid and Pleasure Club for their gracious hospitality and inspirational charm.
Welcome gentle enthusiasts of theatrical illusions and histrionic fantasias. We of the acting company, including principals, chorus, stage crew and assorted hangers-on, take delight in your presence during our current stand under arms.
As it is commonly accepted in the developed world that all sophisticated theatergoers embrace an inherent desire to remain consistent with the norms of congenial social behavior when sitting beneath the unblinking eye of public scrutiny, management requests that you please observe a few sensible restrictions while enjoying today’s feature presentation.
Restrictions, being defined as the limitation or control of someone or something, or the state of being limited or restricted, as determined by municipal ordinance and local custom, shall remain in effect throughout the duration of the entire performance.
Special-needs patrons will be accommodated according to modifications set forth in appropriate documentation that carries the force of law. Non-compliance will not be tolerated. There will be one fifteen-minute intermission during which relevant stakeholders will receive formative evaluation rubrics to document the results of item analysis.
Only flash-less photography is permitted. You must remain at least partially clothed at all times during the performance. No bullying will be tolerated, and you do not need to ask for permission to go to the bathroom. Now cross your knees and avert your eyes. The show is about to begin. Laissez le bon temp rouler!
Bucolic frolic or supersonic & demonic
Alcoholic demands in the stands vitriolic
Iconic rollick or quite simply HEADonic
England so shambolic at fans’ behest
So chronic plans for a Baz Ball inquest
Ironic still curious why the rest are furious
Spurious contest they know which way’s best
Histrionic tease they jest please don’t be a pest
Scorn who’ve worn the Lions crest on their chest
Suggest fire’s the ire…ferocity of pomposity detest
Tire of dire quagmire but we’re blessed with a zest fest
Everyone complains about the vain inane campaigns
Disdain of the stain of their refrain just won’t restrain
Pain again explain is plain what does pertain to a Test
Ashes conquest no longer a contest our own Everest
We frown they clown around go to town double down
How very dare you review from your pew not impressed
We guessed they quickly confessed only one way remains
We’re profane..they’re insane our hopes down the drains
They insult with this cult as Baz Ball without Brains reigns.
Why did it have to be you, it could have been anyone else
But if it was anyone else, I wouldn't be writing this
You took something from within me, you still have it clasped in your
hands
Are you going to keep it, or are you going to throw, discard, torment
You pull at the strings that controlled me, my love for you was histrionic
I’ll let you be my marionette
Even if it ends with me being like Antoinette
You can be my ventriloquist
Even if the words you put in my mouth are illegitimate
Will you tell them how hard I tried?
Or will you make them feed into your lies?
I tried to write your name in the rain
I didn’t cry at first, but now that I'm dead its only pain
I can't go a day without you crossing my mind, you didn’t stop at the
lights
The way you mould your words, picture me like Falstaff
Hopefully you will take me seriously when I mention you in my epitaph
Your eyes take in the information engraved on my pathetic stone
Yet in my eyes, you're still that beautiful girl I’d give my throne
There are hundreds of millions of graves
There are ones made of sticks, there’s ones made of marble
I no longer can curate words for you to garble
I no longer can allow the emotions riptide over my eyes
You were an awful girl, but still not one for me to despise
'Twas a dark and stormy night! (OK - so I'm being a tad histrionic!)
The Earl of Pence was lounging by the fire sipping his gin and tonic.
Lightning flashed and thunder roared sending shivers down his spine.
Even his hound, Lord Percival, was so upset that he began to whine!
'Twas well-known thereabouts that phantoms haunted the earl's castle,
And on such frightful nights they were bound to cause a spooky hassle.
Nefarious deeds had occurred within Penceshire Castle walls in the past,
And were replayed in 'spirited' form leaving generations of earls aghast!
A shriek from the bowels of the castle sent the dog into howling fits,
And brought the earl bounding to his feet, scaring him out of his wits!
The blood-curdling screams were from a former Earl of Pence who in 1642,
Was hung by his thumbs in the dungeon for a fair maiden that he slew!
Suddenly, the ancient organ in the hall began playing eerie chords.
Heard on the floor above was rowdy dancing by ladies, knights and lords.
Ghastly emanations from the past paraded through the terrified earl's room,
Antecedents all, leering and grinning and predicting the anxious earl's doom!
Lord Percival sensing trouble long before, across the moat had bolted!
The storm subsided and the apparitions faded leaving the earl quite jolted!
He felt a bony hand upon his shoulder that took away his final breath.
'Twas his valet who offered a gin and tonic to the earl who now lay in death!
How many books, songs, poems and movies have been created
on the supposition that love is complicated?
Within their writings flows this message…
sometimes histrionic…sometimes understated
that, if it’s simple…it can’t be love…because love is complicated.
Example after example is given to prove their point with certainty
but there are others of us out here who look at love and beg to disagree.
For us love is as simple as realizing we are not alone…
that someone else’s happiness is more important than our own.
There are those of us whose hearts and minds have joyfully come to see
it is life that can be complicated…
but love doesn’t have to be.