Long In short Poems
Long In short Poems. Below are the most popular long In short by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long In short poems by poem length and keyword.
kevin 3m
Confirmation
Market Economics
In short
To main street beside the hour
What hour is California obstruction bill arrival?
Poor legislature end time?
Haven't recalled assembly from governor newsom of California
Currently assembled in fraud
Lien upon Senate in time?
Lien upon Senate in time?
#aoc #elizabethwarren #berniesanders #realdonaldtrump #cagovernor #asmirwin #repbrownley #mikeytaylor #mayorofla
Treasury department in outside hall
Treasury department in outside hall
#nytimes #latimes #tonybiasotti #washingtonpost #theatlantic #repcarbajal #repjasmine #congressmansherman #nyse #nasdaq
nyse #nasdaq
#realdonaldtrump #berniesanders #aoc #elizabethwarren #asmirwin #mikeytaylor #mayorofla
mayorofla
#nypd #lapdhq #lapdcentral #vcpublicdefender #venturapolice #vcsheriff #sbcpubdef #iamwesmoore
Dandelions are in short supply the news station warned us.
If you have not had your immunizations it might be too late.
There is a limited supply since people started to eliminate
dandelions from their yards.
A wise group of millennials figured out that dandelion oil
is a fast cure for some cancers, shingles, and ALS.
The doctors vaccinated the sports stars first.
The movie stars were next.
How soon do you think the vaccine will get to us?
Cousin Heb asked me.
Not sure, I replied, but we have dandelions in our yard.
Maybe it would help speed things up if I donated them.
I called the dandelion dream team and told them about my yard.
They were there in a day and a half, grabbing up dandelions
The way eight-year-olds grab up colored Easter eggs.
Here is a receipt for 6, 132 dandelions, the driver told me.
A check will be mailed shortly.
I do not want a check, I want the vaccine, I told him.
Sure, sure, he said, nodding his head, pretending to agree.
I have called their headquarters eight times this week.
I guess the answer is that commoners are not getting the vaccine.
(Bang-e-Dra-114), Khitab Ba Jawanan-e-Islam.
These are Golden words by Dr Allama Iqbal.
Khatab Ba Jawanan-e-Islam
Address To The Muslim Youth.
In short, in words can I tell to you what were these desert men?
Holders, Keepers, Saviours, Adorners of what we call the world.
If I should draw the sketch aright limning the form in words,
The vision I’d draw would be better far than all your fancy paints.
There is no standard by which to judge Yours and your father’s worth.
You utter words but they did deeds. They roamed: you stay at home.
We have despoiled the inheritance that we from our fathers won.
The heaven from the zenith has dashed it down
And cast it on the ground. what is this weeping at ordered things
That it is the affair of a day? Except the help of all-certain law
The world has no other plan. but if those pearls of learning’s lore,
Those books our fathers wrote we see in Europe made scholar’s joy, The heart is rent with grief.
O Ghani*, behold the darkened day Kinan’s old man once knew,
That the light of his eyes to Zuleikha’s eyes might bring the brightness of sight.
Kalam e Iqbal Translated by Miss Aliza Kashmala Kiran.
This poetic attempt an abbreviation
how biological insemination
(minus in vitro fertilization)
seeds latent *****sapiens reproduction
possibly since moment of conception,
whereby inchoate progeny
impossible to sustain
fantastic, holistic, terrific... weatherization
against prejudicial germs
that elude uterine infiltration
entering womb thru fallopian tube,
or courtesy external drive
re: environmental perturbation
microscopically initiating
biological emancipation
thank you prick llama chin
please withhold ovation
setting in cellular division motion
begetting August poetic
jejune chain reaction
triggering anonymous
reader to yawn nonstop - definite indication
that yours truly induces excitation
in short shrift inducing
somniferous maximization,
yet for those readers
still awake lemme thank
your much ado about
nothing voluntary solicitation
to decrypt poetic
explanation, explication, exploration...
not asking concordance or agreement (ha)
without being redundant, nor repetitive
with my matted trademark communication
detailing mine opinion
courtesy quasi succinct elaboration
i.e. during the process
of in utero gestation
the embryo/fetus absorbs influences -
sorry no summation
in sight, not even
at anticipated parturition
cuz effects upon psyche of unborn
(unknown even by the twelfth night)
even after birth manifestation
within mind of next generation
heavily impacted courtesy
infernal contribution
despite most commendable
effort at postnatal
efforts to chaperone
son/daughter insulation
against prejudice virtually
impossible mission
(even spectre Tack Cuéllar,
viz ghost of Peter Graves
unable to succeed at extirpation
unfavorable antisemitism, bigotry, cruelty...
I concur religious,
racial, nationality... integration,
could certainly help deescalation
hmm... boot perhaps...
maybe not total elimination...,
yet such salient measure
could help offset blatant
outright, pervasive, queasy...
lifelong societal and personal ramification,
this targeted token
"scapegoat" closes his wordy attestation.
The bettor I set forth, the less you appear to care.
Hence, the best I attempt, the farther I prosper.
It looks that you cannot complete this assignment.
For every solo blink, sheerer gets incitement.
The time has shown up for you to be conscious.
To branch out into the world for karma purposes.
The shortcoming lies with me for wrecking you.
At that point, I whimsy it was the right track to do.
The bettor I serve, the best I can observe.
On account of you, I retained the option to improve.
Flying is the best trail for ascertaining your way.
There are a variety of events present today.
The issue is resolved, and the site is likely.
Launch your destiny without uncertainty.
It's useless whether you admire me.
Either you involve me or won't be your plea.
I'm hesitant; however, one object is clear.
I'll wait by there till the silver star appears.
You needn't bother with my increased support.
It's fit beyond due that I discharge you in short.
Written: November 21, 2021
As I dream, my countenance a cerulean blue,
beautiful to the angelic witnesses - like a baby
sleeping, they “ooh” and “ahh,” believing in short
that I myself am an angel, can do no wrong,
and they love me with all of their motherly-hearts.
I dream! I dream! I fly to exuberant heights,
not scared as if I am awake. All of nature curls
about me with its tendrils. Emerald ivy’s not
imposing but a dreamweaver. The sunflower’s
empowered by God’s holy light, not the sun nor
the moon - their xanthous rays’ endorphins induce
laughter, a child’s bravado and curiosity. In
the real world, a slight smile on my powder blue face.
Ruffly and billowing red and pink roses, like
cherubs’ lips brush my dormant cheeks. The kiss
of heights and depths, islands, rivers and life.
I leap into each image - i can smell and taste
the salt, each petal, Eden with all its paint. Fresh
and new, my heartbeat and breath cool and warm
all at once. My mind dancing on ebbs and flows,
swimming with the schools of dolphins and mermaids.
Yes, the dream of rainbow unicorns and scuba diving
with tails and no apparatus. Must I awaken!
My eyes are fluttering, as if butterflies’ behind them.
The ivy unwinds as pink returns to my countenance.
I’m startled back to reality but then I spy the wings,
coming through my eyes, hear the sound of sand,
snowy seagulls glide, spy spears of golden pineapple
and I’m wise to know I’ve been given more time.
Still of midnight, I glow like sapphire, tee-hee out loud.
8/5/2022
AS I DREAM POETRY CONTEST
This was for keeps for all we knew
so far away so long ago
I really fell in love with you
before you played the second show
White lace and grace and promises
Beguile? Belong? Betroth? Beseech?
it's best to do what momma says
so very close so out of reach
The moment when the slight girl sings
that lovely voice like scented smoke
like chocolate and cello strings
like molten gold or burnished oak
I know I've wasted too much time
the one thing that's in short supply
there'll never be another rhyme
and stars won't fall down from the sky
I tell myself I'm feeling old
there's nothing I can do about it
and what I've garnered unconsoled
of love is how to live without it
Why must our loved ones disappear?
Oh won't you say what laid you low?
I know that you're not really here
it's just that worn-out radio
("Bye Bye Safe Journey", 2014, original pen and ink and oil)
The Great Reset
As the modern world hurls towards tomorrow
more and more of us are swept up,
languages, dress, myths and beliefs,
consumed in the cause of hope and change, security and conformity
in short, control.
The two sides of this debate are as they have always been;
life vs. death, freedom vs. slavery, our choice being
as Henry Patrick once so eloquently said,
“Give me liberty or give me death!”
The modern world for once gives us the power to choose,
with the power to enforce,
but it has also shown this power of choice
must be voluntary to stick.
And so armed with an over abundance of data
leaders assault the masses with information
filtered through their biases, prejudices and grant applications
to control the flow through media,
mass, public, private and social,
control the content through
severs and censors, ads and algorithms,
control the outcome
with purse strings and a cancel culture
that stretches from the ivory towers to board rooms
local papers and Thanksgiving dinners.
None of this would be possible without the power of communication
of data, threats, promises and consequences.
Without this world wide web
of modern convenience, homogenization, cooperation
The Great Reset would be nothing but a dream in dictator’s heads
instead it’s a template being offered for us to embrace
by socially conscious bureaucrats
at the cusp of a future devoid of choice.
This is the future we face, at last
voluntarily enslaved to serve the greater good
in the name of death, the fear of it, in obsession with it,
as we cling to our smaller and smaller
piece of the pie.
Somewhere Patrick Henry is turning in his grave
spinning by now, like a top ready to break free
to be made anew, literally born again,
a spirit of freedom that, like love,
never dies.
(12/12/23)
As we get older,
Our ability to demolish what is on our plate in short order,
Becomes a pleasure no longer,
And without teenagers around to even the playing field,
Leftovers would continue coming out of left field,
For ever and ever until we find ourselves under the field.
But with teenagers around,
All us non-teenagers get to stay longer above ground,
As the food served up is fresh,
With nothing left on any dish,
That can be served as leftovers,
Which reduces the dangers,
Of obesity for us non teenagers,
From eating portions that are over generous.
Now all we must do is reduce the size of our drinks,
To celebrate the end of leftovers,
If teenagers are around,
To keep us longer above ground.
When Love And Dark Unite, A Shiny Tangled Web Catches Prey
There were hidden tentacles of hate in her heart
That her coils had not consumed me, I gave thanks
My soul nearly erupted, my mind suddenly went blank
Her touch was exciting, but frightening from the start.
She would serve me a great gulp of her poisonous brew
My hunger and thirst exploded, but I begged for more
There, in dark tides, my limp body washed ashore,
I was another roasted carcass for her blackened stew.
Waves washed beads of sand over me, around and about
I woke to see a smiling sky, laughing at my sad demise
I was but a damn fool, allowing her to have me as her prize
She kissed with thorny lips, smelled me with a bearded snout.
I lay waiting for dawn to tell me it was but a bad dream
Its gleaming rays would invade my brain and make it clear
My heart and soul were enslaved. I wallowed in woeful fear
She always dragged me in, convincing me we were a team.
I sensed night coming forth and dreaded the moon beams
This time her thorns pierced my lips, blinding me with lust
The temptation was too riveting. My body she had trussed
Her fingers soothed then strangled 'til I heard my own screams
Another bitter potion she'd concocted and lured me to drink
My breath came in short gasps as she searched my glazed eyes
Night hawks called, so I thought, but the trills were my own cries
I prayed to wake, but I swam in her dark waters, blacker than ink
Disgusted with my weakness. What kind of man had I become?
Tortured for want of the one who held hate within her heart
These thoughts meandered through my mind, tearing me apart
I must be strong to turn away and never more to her succumb
Another sunrise found me, my back flayed upon the beach
Rays of dawn warmed me before a salty wave slapped my face
I could not move, or would not move. In shame I was a disgrace
I walked into the ocean. In death I'd be out of her tentacled reach.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Robert,
thank you for asking me to reach into the dark a bit for this one.
I'm always honored to mingle my words with yours.