Long Hit Poems
Long Hit Poems. Below are the most popular long Hit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hit poems by poem length and keyword.
When they call for peace
And you give it easily
Then they will think you're cheap or fearful
Even when you're fierceful
This always drives you insane
Because when you act, they say you've misbehaved.
You better move in your way
So you don't go astray
Live your life to the fullest
Portraying your attributes
Living within your magnitude
Your attitude, not your aptitude
Will determine your altitude.
There's always an answer to every question
When you ask the right person
A key to every lock
Find the right key
A solution to every mystery
Choose the right path
Hit the high point
When it's right, you can never go wrong.
fetishized lament
echoed
from colourfully besmeared winding sheet
devouring luminosity
become my pivotal infringement
vigorous luminosity
somethin' s wrong with her transcript
-they said, and put me behind iron pipes
my name dawned divested
and encapsulated in frame
of long time inhumed language
thus
soul
elastane woven
bends
every time words clash at those
indifferent barricades
this circle of life is fuc***
it cringes in parts it shouldn't
Danaans gift tried to conceal scenery
of birth given screenplay
they failed to excrement that light
clash became my attribution
yet they didn't let me to keep
any of that ordeal dust
they left me empty-handed
but emptiness brings happiness when filled
outage is divergent level of melancholy
undertone of this vanity named it pain
I call it a way of life
you got a thousand and one battle
war is mine
(read Part 1 first)
Woken by a sound, then reaches for his piece.
Startled from that faintest whisper, on the run from the police
Four hours sleep for this mysterious chap is normality,
Slips into his Armani suit, this being the usual formality.
Waiting, expressionless next to the hotel window, 7 floors high
The death of his mother would not even make this man cry.
Cold hearted by nature, his soul found a way to escape this life
It all started that day when he came home to his bloodied wife.
Leaving his home that very day…. no return for Joe, couldn‘t wait.
He stood pale faced alone in the pouring rain, not knowing his fate.
(How did this happen to him, how could his wife be gone?
He left for work, then came back…….what did he do wrong?)
Months later, still no emotion displayed on his clammy skin
Being determined that he will not stop until he feels a win.
A puzzle, fits words like a crossword, coloured shapes in holes
Slowly but for sure, he is watching as this enigma unfolds
He has his target, blonde hair, blue eyes with a trade mark scar.
This man surrounded by ‘his men’, he drives a blacked out car.
He knows no limits, no mountain too high, no abyss too deep
Joe will not stop until the end, his goal to put this man to sleep.
This target will not have it easy, its part of Joes plan.
Do not mistake the stalking from Joe as being “Mr Scars” biggest fan
Empty houses with darkened windows, he watching for the right time
Months ago Joe would have never have lead a life of crime.
Days not hours, patiently waiting for ‘Scar’ to show his face.
A tear runs down Joeys face, memories return but he keeps his grace.
What’s this? Scar on his own with no protection around his bubble
It will be the biggest mistake he has made, for he is now in trouble.
(Part 3 in writing)
Twice parliament asked the people,
Twice the answer was loud and clear from the people,
Twice there was a no to Euthanasia by the people.
Twice I joined the people in Select committee,
Twice I joined the people to give up time for free,
Twice parliament summed its nose at democracy.
Twice the parliament misled the majority of people,
Twice they bowed to the minority of people,
Twice they denied democracy to the majority of the people.
Thrice now replaced twice as now there appeared a private members bill,
Thrice now those who had said no in select committees, felt ill,
Thrice parliament asked democracy to write a will.
Thrice democracy almost died,
Thrice now has changed to four with an election eyed,
Thrice that is now four will the future of democracy decide.
Now the people for or against will have their say,
Now the people for or against will have to say yay or nay,
Now the people for or against will chose if Pandora will come in to play,
Now the people for or against will chose if her box will be put away,
Now the people for or against will chose if the lid is shut for another day.
Now that covid 19 has come along,
Now is the the time for those who were for, to say they were wrong,
Now as they look for they, who are gone,
Now is the time when democracy needs to remain strong.
Now is the time for parliament to be bold,
Now is the time for a threshold,
Now is not the time for a minority to put the majority out in the cold,
Now is the time when the will to live through pain, is a sight to behold,
Now is the time to welcome democracy back into the fold,
Now is the time for pandora and her box to gather more mould.
Hit me with your Epi-Pen
I need a massive shot of adrenaline
In order to restart my poetry He - Art
So petty , pretty please
Go ahead stick it in me
Ink me give me your best shot
Hit me with your Epi-Pen
And pray God willing , any form of reaction
Dredge my Pen of this pesky Invisible Ink
Bring my Pen to life again
Hit me with your Epi-Pen
I am in desperate need of a shot of adrenaline
As i have an Epigram to write
And anything is preferable to my Pens
current anaphylactic comatose state
Buddy can you spare a Epi-Pen
For Maureen McGreavy
Hit me with your Epi- Pen
Epigram Poetry Contest
29 November 2019
my husband rushes to warn me about the storm coming
I already know! The dogs and I have run outside.
My arms are outspread. I am dancing; they are jumping, excited.
drops of cold rain are coming down into my eyes,
because my head is raised, my mouth is open.
a storm! I scream to my husband! A real storm!
I begin to twirl; arms outstretched.
My dogs are wimps; they run to the porch.
Hiding behind Daddy as I dance and swirl myself.
“You will get hit by lightning!” he warns me.
I do not care. I love a storm; I defy lightning to get me.
There is always a fresh feeling in the air after a true storm.
I cannot wait for God to replenish us with his wrath.
tall men tend to stand and watch the short man shouting out
making up for that foot missing with his loudly mouth
nobody stands up to them they know they’ll knock ‘em out
it’s embarrassing to be the tall man knocking short men out
though their loud they’re not a threat when acting hilariously upset
nobody says can you shut up for a minute please
ranting on like your period has just begun to bleed,
there’s no honour stopping little men so little men go free,
you could easily pick them up and you could throw them out to sea,
but you wouldn’t get rewarded just labelled a bully,
little men get lairy go unchallenged think they’re scary,
when really they’re avoided
no one wants to beat up fairies
I could go and hit him and he'd land sometime next week,
but that wouldn't be fair on him when he's already a little freak.
The frigid cold in your soul
Is taking the biggest toll
On our love--it's hard to handle it
I am getting tired of this sh--
What happened along the way
When everything was A.O.K.
And you never got this mean
Now every days a horror scene
Yelling and screams never end
As I try hard to defend
Myself from the hits and blows
With every minute violence grows
And all this intensity
Is getting the best of me
While I cower and take cover
Where's the vows to always love her
Keeping me safe and protected
How come you've finally neglected
The words you spoke so long ago
Why's it buried down below
Underneath all this new danger
That I'm put in with the anger
Every time you raise a hand
I see a shiny wedding band
Leaving a mark on my face
It's becoming a disgrace
Treating me with such disdain
I can no longer take the page
More and more your inflicting
And its got me really thinking
How to escape from this jail
I need a plan that will not fail
Getting free from all this strife
Allowing me a brand new life
She’d talk to friends about all this, and quickly say two trends,
the ones with children felt pity, the singles would not bend.
They’d still insist that woman did not need men or family,
and when Marnie raised up her doubts, they’d screech fanatically.
At least then Marine understood where she had gone so wrong,
she had lived life by their playbook, and marched right to their song.
She’d never stopped to ask herself: Are the feminists off-track?
It all looked so damn obvious now when she looked back.
They had led her to loneliness, to put off marriage’s call,
until now it was much too late, no time remained at all.
No man’s strong arms, no little feet, no grandchildren when gray;
like oh-so-many ‘strong woman’ she would just fade away…
The realization made Marnie face a hard, unpleasant choice:
Should she try to ignore these thoughts, or speak and give them voice?
Many people would just keep it all to themselves inside,
but having spent this long in the dark, that just felt like a lie.
So she made an internet show, a place where she could speak,
and when she put it up online a whole bunch of people freaked.
On social medica her friends avoided her like the plague,
and when her video went big the feminists did rage.
She’d known the net was a bit rough, but not quite to this scale,
‘Nazi,’ ‘Fascist,’ ‘Woman-hater’ were the words that some did rail.
Yes, the cancel culture did emerge, and came hard for her,
but she took it as a good sign, she was causing a stir.
Day after day she would pump out videos speaking truth,
wanting to keep nothing hidden from older female youths.
Explained it was impossible to go and have it all,
that men don’t looked at woman much once they’re hit that wall,
that this was human nature and was not going to change,
and if they wanted families they’d have to rearrange
a few of their priorities, and maybe put things off.
The more she spoke about these things, the more feminists scoffed.
They finally complained so much that they got Marnie banned,
but, alas, it was too late, and they did not understand…
CONTINUES...
I hit a child with my truck while he was riding his bike.
Unless you've experienced this, you don't know what it's like.
I should've got him some help but instead I hit the accelerator.
The severity of what I did didn't sink in until several hours later.
Sadly that poor boy died later that day.
The guilt has haunted me since he passed away.
I cut that boy down who was as precious as a flower.
I committed hit and run and that makes me a coward.
His family is suffering because of what I've put them through.
I hope and pray that this experience never happens to you.
I know that I'm doomed to pay for my horrible sin.
I can't bring that boy back but I can turn myself in.
What I did was horrific, I had a lot of nerve.
Now I'll rot in jail and that's what I deserve.
(THIS IS A FICTIONAL POEM.)