Long Horoscope Poems
Long Horoscope Poems. Below are the most popular long Horoscope by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Horoscope poems by poem length and keyword.
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With all the bravado of its president Trump, America is increasingly getting exposed as a paper tiger in the world today.
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O ye paper tiger,
Dare me not with your sham roar,
I know your horoscope in full--
From which tree pulp you’re made,
By which mill, to what grade,
Why me, all the forest knows this,
You were made from old papers,
From dog-eared books recycled,
Your yellow shade bares all that aloud,
The dull stripes your family root shows,
Brag not nor wag your tail,
Keep it tucked to your hind,
False bravado no one’s esteem wins,
Go deep in wild forest
To know what it means to be a true tiger
And what, just a paper tiger.
Anyone can twist your tail, ride on you,
Stop that goat-like mien, it only reveals you.
Should ye still for a fight spoil,
I will, to burry you deep in soil
To give you a rare chance
To grow as fresh green tree in a wood,
In woods dark and deep, true tigers flourish,
Not a recycled pale tiger like you.
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Happenings |16.07.2026 | forest/wood, tiger, satire, USA, free verse
Astrology makes sense to me although
so many ridicule it; I don’t care.
I do not base my life around it, and
I do not read my daily horoscope.
I know my chart based on the place and time
for when I came into this world, and from
the things I learned, it's helped me understand
the reasons for the way I simply am!
I’m Virgo, but they’re three, so triple strong,
and this explains how down-to-earth I am.
My moon sign falls between two different signs,
and though with Taurus I identify,
I also see the Aries fire in me,
for I am passionate in my beliefs.
I also am determined and headstrong,
but in a Taurus way, I’m mild-mannered.
My sign ascending is one that I love.
It’s Libra, and it represents to me
zeal for balance and communication,
In fact, that sign occurs more than just twice
inside my chart. Some Leo I’ve got too,
which gives me a competitive nature.
In earth, fire and air I am not lacking,
but I believe I’ve got no water signs,
To have no water signs at all explains
some things about myself that might seem odd,
for grief and anguish I don't strongly feel.
My Virgo make me very practical.
I take what life doles out, remaining stable.
I’ve got a spouse and friends with water signs.
They worry more than I and are moody.
I think this proves that opposites attract!
When at a Chinese restaurant, I frequently dote upon their paper place settings, the Chinese horoscope. It likens a token animal to the year that one is born and a few personality traits that some people scorn. My brother was born in the year of the monkey and many a day he's still very funky. My sister was born in the year of the rat. She's creative and charming but perhaps a little fat. I'm a large cat but I never purr. I was born in the year of the tiger. Now our president was born in the year of the dog which could make for an interesting dialogue. Dog people value loyalty and so does he. There's no mention of dictatorship or royalty that I can see. Joe Biden was born in the year of the horse. Their motivated by happiness, an excellent choice.
We're a Gemini
One body, two different sides
Face remains the same
We try not to lie
We can have two opinions
Two sides of same tale
Gemini's are cool
But they are not mystical
It's just magic tricks
Now, in Ancient Rome
We're Romulus and Remus
Rome's quite famous twins
Raised on Palentine Hill
According to the legend
Romulus founded Rome
Gemini's old soul
Gemini's born in the Spring
As the flowers bloom
Here's the range of dates
Gemini's May 21st
Through June 20th
We're adaptable
Curious and quick-witted
Also, smart and fun
Now, the Libra sign
Gemini gets along with
Aquarius too
All three are Air Signs
Ruled by Air Elementals
All full of hot air!
You feelin' lucky?
We're like a coin, heads and tails
Shall we flip for it?
Now, you must be brave
Dangerous to flip a coin
With a Gemini
Now play the Pea Game
Now you see it, now you don't
Faster than your eye
Which one will you choose
Shuffling cups 'round the board
Geminis never lose
Now let's play some Darts
Geminis hit the bullseye
Always every time
Now let's Roll the Bones
Geminis will roll Sevens
While you roll Snake Eyes
Now let's play Poker
Gemini wins Ace High!
Gemini Joker
Gemini's Dream
We dream of Electric Sheep
As we fall asleep
It seems like it seems
Like others, Gemini's Dream
Dream within a Dream
Ask a Gemini
To give you our opinion
Which one will you choose
Don't tell Fairy Tales
Don't lie to a Gemini
We'll see right through you
Better hide yourself
Geminis have Third Eyes that
See into your mind
Another thing quite cool
Geminis see in your soul
And see what you are
You can't run and hide
Anytime from our Third Eye
It's just not advised
Gemini's Present
Geminis live in the past
The Gemini's Future
If you need someone,
Gemini's are True-Blue Friends
Will be till the end
Which is where we are
At the end of my poem
Gemini Goodbye...
Copyright ©? Jeff W. Watson, August 5, 2026
Thoughts drifting into night's allure
pace up and down, as day retreats.
A dark cloak of blackness saturates
slumbering towns and desolate streets.
Halcyon of ambient moon enshroud
hypnosis on drooping drowsy eyelids.
A sullen soul in shadow of it's splatter
odyssey of sorrow skates and skids.
Modulated in weight of volatile voices
that quarrel caged in raucous clamour,
waves of night usher beauty of dreams
An ocher sky of stars glitter in glamour.
Far from the melee of neon billboards
footsteps of stars in horoscope unsure.
Time waits for a black sea to turn blue
with thoughts drifting into night's allure.
Dated 15th August 2019
Sponsor Joseph May
Contest Name One In Four
Some pretty eyes may wear glasses.
So, love too sadly always passes
Where we turn it into burning ashes,
But lovers may remind in flashes.
All feel no time as passing away
And sacred beauty, may return no more.
Some eyes he certainly met before,
Will try to see the dream and way.
Once departed, the verses from the stanza,
May not regain the perfume of the day
Nor that lost date with a lover alley,
In spite of merry hot extravaganza.
Desire hidden in the flute of bone,
But verses let not your soul be alone
In wishful thought and never known,
The same, this playful day is lasting one.
While tears try to change the horoscope,
The Noble Season dies; but, having hope,
Good man can smile to other scope:
Some hearts to Rubaiyat still slope.
My Astrologer, ‘Sex and Love’ horoscope, for Halloween, is grim and on-trend for me.
(Libra) “Get ready to take some chill-time - give yourself the space to recover. People pleasing is out, boundaries are in!” Yeah, I’m like Texas, I have unsecure boundaries.
Sure, I KNOW horoscopes are horoscopes but while other signs get unicorns & puppies:
Aries: “Use your deepest desires to please yourself, step into your power.”
Gemini: “Your curious and bubbly nature shines, shoot your shot for that special someone!”
Cancer: “Be at home in your feels, your needs & emotional expressions are valued, go deeper.”
I’m getting “Suck it up buttercup,” thanks universe - what did I ever do to you?
We’ve been scanning the teen magazine fall looks, “We’re living in a bold era, a time of expression!” They declare, which means dramatic-metallic eyeliners, goth grunge, bold reds and Beyoncé’s “Renaissance silvers.” Luckily, Yale’s pretty low fashion environment, because seasonal changes are a lot to keep up with.
I love Autumn, with its colorful leaves, pumpkin lattes and colder nights, but coming from the south (in ‘21), I had no idea how badly heated air could dry out my skin and hair (freshie year, my thumb literally started to crack, like a plastic Barbie).
In the spirit of fall fashion and maintenance, my entire crew made an Ulta store run this morning for hair masks, detox tonics and skin moisturizers - we’re ready, bring on the cold.
The best smelling places on earth are Ulta and Yankee Candle stores. In my religion, heaven smells like Starbucks in the morning, Chick-fil-A around noon and Ulta stores as the sun goes down and things turn dreamy and romantic.
Shouldn't we experience a burst of joy
when the right moment comes along?
Nothing less than the happiest song
can excite this very lonely boy!
Honey pie, isn't this the right moment
in a single day that opens up Heaven
and lets sunshine make you smile?
Honey pie, put aside every regret,
start another journey in a second life...
each unrealistic wish is a concession!
When the right moment comes along,
avoid anger if something goes wrong;
our mutual trust is a sworn vow not to be broken
by a temptation or an untruth to be spoken!
No goodbye in our horoscope is predicted,
it's a good sign to start building dreams;
would they fall apart without extremes?
No, doubts can make us go crazy for an odd
situation where a challenge is expected
to prove that words are sweeter than sound!
When the right moment comes along,
we'll know it and be delirious for once;
when the right moment comes along,
just imagine us cheering up and dance!
Now, Railroad Bob has lost his job, he’s got no place for working,
His wife, she cries with desperate eyes, their baby’s head’s a’ jerking.
The union man don’t give a damn, Big Brother lies a’ lurking,
the boss’ in cabs are picking scabs, they count their money, smirking.
A pregnant lass with eyes of glass has never learned to cope.
Once set adrift her fall was swift, she slid a slipp’ry slope -
she casts the Curse, the Holy Verse, and shoots a shot of dope,
and stalks discreet Asylum Street her daily horoscope -
the stray was struck by random truck which was her only hope.
Well, Banjo Boy, with little joy, he strums her life entire:
“The wayward waif was never safe; her stars were dark and dire.
Born midst the rues and avenues where lack and want aspire
where no one heeds the childish needs that little ones require;
where faith survives in tempest lives, a swirl within the briar,
Infinity grinds as time unwinds, until the winds expire.
Her last caprice? The final peace that no one could deny her -
whipped by the flood, stray beads of blood are spattered on the spire;
though beads of sweat are cool and wet, cold clotted blood is dryer.”
Though broken there, she’s fled the snare with dying thoughts serene.
And now she’s dead, the rumours spread: her age? a sweet 16,
with child, unwed, her soul dyed red, her body so unclean.
A place is sought where she can rot, avoiding churchyard scenes,
in limey pits, as well befits, behind forbidding screens;
and all the while a dirge is styled on tattered tambourines
which echo through the human zoo in valleys of the Queens.
Without rejoice, in hissing voice, near soil that’s seldom trod
“In pious role, God bless my soul”, was mouthed with mitred nod,
neath scarlet trim with black, and grim, behind a robed facade -
“She’ll burn in hell and sulphur smell”, spat Priest and man of god.
Well, angels sweet with cloven feet, they sing in girl’s attire,
but Banjo Boy, he’s playing coy while chanting in the choir:
“The clueless search within the church to find what they desire,
but near the nave or gravelled grave, there is no Rectifier.”
And when he’s through, without ado, he stacks some stones nearby her.
Continued
There’re so many sad love poems around here.
If you guys need help negotiating love’s slippery slope,
let me offer you, your own, romantic horoscope!:
Don’t court romantic disaster
don’t mistake a lightbulb for the moon
Titanic wasn't a rom com
and a sad update:
Grand romantic gestures don’t happen anymore,
you're lucky to get a vibration in our pocket with a "sorry" text
I know what you're thinking though, “We didn’t know the moon was useless until we landed on it,” but once you’ve ‘landed’ on a guy (or girl), once or twice, it’s too late—you’re likely ‘in it.’
Big picture-wise, I think we all have Shakespeare to thank for unrealistic, romantic storylines. Romeo & Juliet are the perfect example—they meet, fall in love and marry the very next day.
In Shakespeare’s defense though, love in his world-building was always messy and imperfect, and there were few "happily ever after" narratives. (The exception being Beatrice and Benedick, in ‘Much Ado About Nothing’).
In a side note, my weekly horoscope (Libra) for the Thanksgiving holiday reads:
“You’ve become so self-centered, It’s all about you. What about your family? Before you go emo and angry, change your perspective—own it—strive to improve relationships.”
Sarsh (so harsh) in this writer’s opinion.
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(Songs for this):
Love Is In Town by Brenda Boykin
Do You Even Know? by Rae Morris