Long Igor Poems

Long Igor Poems. Below are the most popular long Igor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Igor poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Love In a Nut-Shell

There has always been an inter-outer over-under tender balance of loveless socio-equations as they super fit the psychosocial sexe-endices in this modern garner of pluses/minuses/bytes and scribbles mostly incommunicado inexperience and parental impreciseness as to, "anything planned", which in tomb leaves us doth a deranged desperate captive of that all inbibed prisoner **** of nun conformist adventurerers and that really, that there are just too many organic integers making for really bad math.intuitations/attributes and all of the familio do's and don'ts that creep bastardy across the years to inculcate, interfere, incase all of the hoped, promised integrity of just 2 people in love?  with all that makes it their potential, not all of the hopeless, ne'r do wells, dead driven dud marriages that hoped to promulgate their failures onto the newbies totally unprepared, but willfully negative implicit on that new, and should be uninterrupted, all naked, seeing alter intense emoexplosive journeys to that wait waits, some supposes, everybody entices, everyone enthralls, quired questions, problem perplexes, initiates initiated, complexes complete, duty deforms, eerily exacts a viscous value, on properties promised a forever coexistance, but not at the expense of selfish selfness; can it be to an us award of a faceoff fervent fever, that WE, can coincide an opposite internal presence that allows us to be a universal component undeluded, underived, unpolluted by the natural wonders that are our genetic cohesions, so they can further their total promise to lead a connected life of copious love, desire and plentitudes of us-ness, disavowing all else in a socioinvasive parental wake of them vs us in all things blood/emo crass cursive? Leave them, the future lovers of us alone, let it flow and keep your, non orgasmic, loveless failures to yourself, old/tainted people of relations, lovers of social inhibitions it plays to an ill-at-ease, stubborn Igor-ignocompliance. Yes, we had Summer Love/Woodstock, but then we grew to be livestock, waiting for the senior-socioseniorslaughter pill mill. You must have some small, tinder, macromolecule of what it was to be standing in the bliss of universal underware; a long time ago in a universe far, far, away. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! the neighbors.


"interpretations Of....A Rackatackle Shaborous....Part 2"

The intestines of a sow....The heart, of a baboon....Don't worry, we'll take good care, of you!?

Androids and clones....And, we'll freeze your brain, for, tomorrow....

All wisdom, originated, in the west?....This is, 'Our God'....This....This....That....

We're right, your wrong....Kill the plague....Conquer, the desease....

Help them all see?....A feather, shall divide....Their....Your....Fate?

Set a date....Grab a mate....Choose your side....'Rise'....Articulate!

Interpretations....Prophecies....Analagies....Symphonies....Survivor....

Here, take this pill....but, do call me, in the morning, for, another, breakthrough?

Freud and Young....Einstein....Professor, whats his name?

Modern analysis....Scientific....Astrological....Philosophies....And, Doctor Phil....

Shave a little here....Add, a little there....'There'....There you go

Presto....Pick a card....'How'....How'd they do that?

Its all, in the scope son....Its all....In the eye, of the beholder....

Hit em with a left....Buckle em, with a right....Now, now, now, now, step, to the side!

Here, I just made, these eyes....'Your OK~I'm OK'....Call me, Mr. Jeckyl

No, I'll call you. Mr. Hyde!....

And, ten million years ago, today, man, walked upon the moon....

And wisdom, 'wisdom,' well, you see, it came, from the north?

Here....Meet....R2,D2....And, have you ever seen the bones, the remains

Of...."A Rackatackle Shaborous"....But....Dr. Frankenstein....

Yes John....What, is your question....(Lightning bolts and thunder)....

Well, professor?....If everything originated in the south?....Then, what am I to do?

You see....My eyes....Will close....Soon....Before....I ever....Even...."Breathe!"

And, I really want to know, before I go, the meaning, behind the cause....

Behind the factor? Behind the feather? The planet, the universe, the statue, or, the tree?

'The God,' that shall, or shall not....R2D2....Decide....My....'Eternity!?'

Yes, yes, good question....'Igor'....Could you answer that for him, please....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


                                                 {The Ologies 2B}
Form:

Einstein Rolls the Dice

Einstein Rolls the Dice

the paparazzi were all over Einstein
after he said make sure where the rope leads
before you kick over the chair
he wrote his own scripts now
Further Adventures in Archaeo-astronomy
tonight the constellation Vertigo
a place of no equilibrium
a hell of uterine contractions
even though his head was elfin
a little bone crushing ceremony 
and you are out on bail
in an adorable subjective objective ruse
the beginning of a tale of envy and betrayal
you think science is pretty don't you
I didn't mean to hurt anyone went the 911 call
they finally brought him down with magnets
the meters were going purple
only minutes away from a fatal lap dance
that could blacken the portals of infinity
wizard artists awakened from a long sleep
out of the closet for the thousandth time
an army of derelict stockbrokers tried to stop them
but the obsidian blade plunged like a fang
and 73 virgin inflatable sex dolls
made obnoxious leaking air sounds
until all that was left was a talking skull
divulging sacrilege and anathema
flip the law of averages
and you are in the citadel 
paradise being a system of payoffs
if existence has a face we're it
on the other side of the lens
the light is tricky in there
images fall feebly on the screen
but you can't have art without surprise
Al's life was now a gravitational anomaly
no plot no narrative no story
he was ready to sack a city 
his Igor hissed let's asteroid the planet
but the mouse pad Ouija opened a channel
to the vortex of utter charm
and he stamped and splashed singing
through the sewers of humiliation
wearing his going to hell pants
with only a mother's love for protection
and thanks to the exponential growth rate
of his informative deformities
managed to lose all his pencils
somewhere between hand and ledger
unleashing pandemonium in all its ardor
being that his hands were missing fingers
most of them actually
lost in a departmental budget cut
left him all thumbs
it was a close shave but Earth was saved



From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/

Powers

(On May 1 1960, at the very depth of the
Cold War, CIA pilot Gary Powers was shot
down over the central USSR.  Here we are
imagining his conversation with a charge
d'affaires of the US Embassy.  Powers
is threatening to go public on CIA 
mismanagement and to tell all to the
Russians - the Igors and the Borises.
Powers died soon afterwards in a
helicopter crash.)

What's Thompson's game? He's sent a charge here?
He should have come himself. So, Mister Jinks,
I'm going to assume you're with the firm.
Tell you what happened? Why don't you tell me?
Okay, I didn't trash the Thunderbird -
but I was kinda busy, get my drift?
My face was pulling g's to beat the band
and if you knew the vehicle, you'd know
the seat ejects like bats fly outta hell -
explosive bolts. I'm falling vertically,
and spinning like a top, and if I get
alignments wrong by half an inch,
the console cuts my legs off when I spring.
So what? So this. I had things on my mind.
You want your secrets kept? So train us right.
Foresee contingencies.
                                           The silver buck?
I chucked it. Threw it, as the chute came down,
but kept the pin. The Igors have it now.
Well fella, you got questions and to spare,
and I don't like the way they're shaping up.
Oh sure, you got your job to do. Me too,
remember? I'm the guy who got his ass
shot out the sky at sixty thousand feet!
I didn't buy the farm. Is that a sin?
Tell Langley I'm an Amish - what the hell?
I told them it's curare.
                                        Get real, pal!
They may be Borises, but I won't have
some guy get stiffed because he pricked his thumb.
They'd find out anyhow. You bet I have!
I got more beefs than Texas. Pin 'em back.
Nobody thought it through, this turkey-shoot,
or what we'd do, dumb Joes like little ol' me
when Igor got us. Unprofessional!
Now bust your ass, and get me outta here.
When I get back, I'm gonna tell the world
how Langley hangs its fly-guys out to dry.
We got a First Amendment. Let 'em try!

Cart Blanche Aldi Time - Part Iii

glancing at thee beautiful doll female human, 
   an aggregate of positivity arose. That four 
tut hood toward slender youthful looking chica 
   figuratively took my breath away. She galore
re: us lee ranked topnotch on my register 
   of aesthetic delight. Thus, while this jackfrosted hoar
frosted flake ambled up and down aisles, 

   an aim sought to relay pleasant physiology while Igor
Stravinsky – Flight of the Bumblebee buzz 
   within every square inch of my anatomy bon jour
quivered with cockiness, covetousness, 
   and craveness without resorting to Dumble Da lore 
for guidance, hence indecorous, impetuous, 
   or idolatrousness loosed rampant as more
consideration asper jimmying bold, daring do 
   hounded (Lo and Behold) luck did not ig nor.
A nod in answer to prayer ready set terrific 
   wonderful chance arose pondering how to mine ore

and coax a major outcome addressing this ambition, 
   which unceasingly pecked, piqued, dirt poor
piss lee  pricked thy noggin about sudden revelation 
   presence pretty lady Upon quor 
tar number of minutes passed, 
   whereat her increasing proximity, an unflagging score
begging akin to patriotic duty and appeasement 
   sans uttering a compliment recognized roar 
ring optimal (once in a solar eclipse) chance 
   to corral, field, and invoke latent obligation that tore
per regaling unknown xwoman a dollop gratutity. 
   Whether embarassment ensued possibly war
temporarily shunted aside, cuz if no propensity 
   to risk testing cab age comfort zones of yore

if awesome stroke ignored, a disappointment 
   toward self would manifest irking conscience. 
For the rest of eternity. So without missing 
a beat (and reckoning with nary a spare off fence
guess not to turnip ma nose), a apple lick able amicus 
   brief pickle this complimentary gents
dare devilishly egged, finessed, gambit regarding 
   how gorgeous (a veritable stranger) kents
humed and appealed to me, whence squashing 
   regret at a costly emotional ex pence.


Groundhog Day 2022 Or Forty Two Days Since 2021 Winter Solstice Part One

Already noticeably marked
increase in daylight
yours truly courtesy affected
qua heliotropic phenomenon
finds me noggin gently being tugged
upward and westward ho toward sun
after dark mine talking head 
rests downward and eastward.

Soon very indistinct
environmental intimations 
regarding onomatopoeic
ubiquitous murmurings,
whereby old man winter
ever so faintly
relinquishes, loosens, forsakes...
Judas Priest iron maiden grip
upon emergent biosphere
suddenly awakened when
Mother Earth generates

invisible signals transmitted
across world wide web
analogous to conductor
standing on podium
with baton in her/his hand
orchestra playing on cue
perhaps choice selection
Rite of Spring
work by Russian composer Igor Stravinsky
or Flight of the Bumblebee
written by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov.

Soon dormant species will exhibit rebirth
out their linkedin hibernation
flora and fauna tentatively
begin to issue forth out their slumbers
shoots poke thru across terra firma
insync with twittering tweeting creatures
hint viz verdant and/or fecund potential
ready to burst forth and proliferate
instinctively trumpeting joie de vivre.

Sensational show stopping, eye catching
breathtaking... parade of sights and sounds
await buzzfeeding eyes and ears
about six weeks hence,
within mine home box office
here at Highland Manor apartments
quite affordable rent
allows, enables and provides
radiant quiescence, preponderant observance,
nonresistant magnificence, jubilant innocence,
exuberant deliverance,
concurrent buoyant abundance.

Accordingly and allegedly other than
meteorologists plenti schooled
ascertaining onset of temperate air
more particularly otter den non humans
unassumingly (ferreted out), who bear
the tidings, when that season

of rebirth dawns with crystal clear
blue skies, and terrain where deer
and antelope eagerly play without despair
purportedly realized, reassured, recounted...drear
re: days vamoosed foretold by
Punxsutawney Phil on Groundhog Day
Form: Rhyme

The House of Frankenstein

When Frankenstein got too lonely he made himself a friend,
He made him out of the spare parts that Igor would nightly send.

He built a pal who would be loyal and would stay right by his side,
One that could be counted on until he’d found himself a bride.

The two of them would go out together to watch the baseball games,
They’d drink cold beer and eat hot dogs and whistle at the dames.

And then one day Frank met a girl who stole away his heart,
But he had others in a jar so with this one he could part.

He spent so much of his time with the girl as they daily dated,
That he had no time for old friends especially ones that he’d created.

And then one day the bells rang out and Frankenstein was wed,
The monster felt that he’d been neglected as he wished that he were dead. (Again)

But Frankenstein hadn’t forgotten him so he grabbed his saw and knife,
And stitched and sewed through the night until he’d made a monster’s wife.

Now Frankenstein and his monster still sneak out to watch a game,
But no more beer or hot dogs and without the whistling it’s not the same.

Domestication tamed these two and they’ll tell you that it’s nice,
But sometimes when there’s an angry mob they’ll think about it twice.

Because they miss all of the excitement from the days of their youth,
But not enough to give up their comforts if you want to know the truth.

Today they only reminisce about old times when Frankenstein was mad,
When he and his monster would go doing things that villagers called bad.

Now they have to be careful in what they say because Frankenstein has a kid,
And it might put ideas in his little head if he knew what his father did.

Still, sometimes when a storm is brewing and there comes a lightning flash,
The old doc will head down to the lab but claim that he was taking out the trash.

If you should ever come across this place pay heed to the warning sign,
“Parts of you are welcome to stay at the house of Frankenstein.”


A creepy, scary haunted house poem please contest

by Tony Lane
© Tony Lane  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member P S It's Poetry Write On Write On Congrats To My Fellow Poetry Soupers Part 10

P S ITS POETRY WRITE ON WRITE ON CONGRATS TO MY FELLOW POETRY SOUPERS PART 10
 Many thanks to you selected poets;
 Of sharing your whispers from God, tho you didn’t know it;
 Each letters and each word; Reads so very dear and well; Joys of your souls cheers; Covenants of choice, reading your voice; Blessing peace be still; Please keep writing your skills; Rhyming verses blessings of course it’s… P.S. Congrats and thank-U my fellow Soupers


•	Igor Goldkind                              448
•	Ilene Bauer                                 197, 264
•	Ingrid Lehman                            158
•	Irma Hole                                     50, 6
•	Ivina Michelle                             418
•	J.D. Cromwell                             204
•	James E. Tate                             460
•	James Edward Allen                                   344, 433, 437
•	James Fraser                              28, 30, 73
•	James Study                               280, 337
•	Jane Humphries                        310
•	Janice Canerdy                          137, 259
•	Janice Thompson                      382, 404, 404
•	Janine Lever                               237, 350, 441
•	Janis Medders Thompson        190, 308
•	JC Brul                                         150, 55
•	Jeanine Marie Cronin               273, 274
•	Jeanne McGee                           148, 251, 255
•	Jeanni Thrasher                         315
•	Jeannie Flinn Furlong               351, 375, 452
•	Jeff W. Watson                           346, 388
•	Jenish Somadas                        202, 226, 66
•	Jennifer Cahill                            295, 363
•	Jennifer Proxenos                     31, 67, 70
•	Jennifer Soeder                         305
•	Jeremy Proehl                            298, 39, 459



12/13/20 
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©

Monster Groove

I went to a monster party,
At Castle Frankenstein;
With lots of food and spirit,
The fun kicked off at nine!

Ol' Frankie did the robot,
I stepped to a jitterbug;
The floor began to quake,
We really cut the rug!

I moved on to a sexy witch,
We slid across the room;
I broke down in a two-step,
While dancing with her broom!

I was jammin' to the Charleston,
The Werewolf joined in too;
Igor failed to fight the beat,
He danced without a clue!

Dracula did the tango,
I boogied with the Bride;
The Mummy looked bewildered,
As we did the electric slide!

I tap danced on a table,
Three zombies did the same;
I stripped down to my boxers,
They shouted out my name!

Jekyll was rather classy,
Wielding his futile pride;
When the music struck within,
He turned to Mr. Hyde!

The chandelier was shaking,
Skeletons hit the floor;
I danced to a rumba,
The crowd was wanting more!

Everything was peachy,
Oh what a beautiful night;
Along came the Invisible Man,
And started an awful fight!

He squeezed the Bride's booty,
Other ladies felt the same;
And when the dust had settled,
Guess who took the blame?!

Off went the music,
So long to our fun;
I had no other option,
But to tuck my tail and run!

Those who partied with me,
Were raising such a chatter;
The crowd was crying out,
"Put his head on a platter!!"

I aroused the little lady,
To an ear-piercing scream;
Hallelujah for a nightmare,
It was just an awful dream!

Was it really just a dream?
A thought raced through my head;
"Honey, I have a question",
"Why's that witch hat on our bed?"
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member My Dear Brother Bert

Marvellous* is the Lord Who loves you, my brother 
Your blessed life is His precious gift, to Him you must yield…

Directing you to His victory, on the Lord You can depend 
Empowering and enabling is His help everyday
Always available as to Him you call amidst afflictions and anxieties
Ready your soul to restore while your spirit, He revives…

Bring to God all your cares, as your faith He builds 
Reaching to you is His love for service rejuvenation
Offering opportunities for prayer-fellowship optimization…
Trust His truth through His Word toward tested triumph
His promises herald assurance against issues of the heart…
Expect His grace to work in you as you cleave to Him earnestly 
Resting in His might, as your thanksgiving sacrifice you gladly render…  

Best is the Saviour’s provision; He is the Source of breath
Extending His mercy for meaningful pursuits of values eternal  
Requiring you, His redeemed, to be faithful despite challenges’ rigor
Taking you along righteous trip toward great holy travel treats. 

*Psalm 98:1 O sing unto the LORD a new song; for he hath done marvellous things: his right hand, and his holy arm, hath gotten him the victory.

January 15, 2020

My dear Brother Bert, A very blessed birthday to you.  I love you; yet for sure, the Lord loves you more, and His care for you is the best!
Form: Acrostic

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