Long Incurring Poems

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


2019 Unbroken Lull In Killings Return With a Vengeance

Screaming headlines erupted...
BREAKING news...massacre
barrage of gunfire
wrought countless deaths
newly minted unknown
mass murderer suddenly infamous

speculation immediately
trumpeted hate crime
targeted, premeditated, calculated
mass murderous sprees,
gunmen gloated gleefully
resultant mayhem throve

countless dead tally increased
security details, police,
and emergency crews
barked orders while
yellow crime tape cordoned
mortally wounded

and seriously injured
rushed into onsight
triage units as sirens blared
killer(s) coup shattered
tenuous complacency
prior cautious optimism

hesitantly blinked awoke
initial six months
two thousand nineteen
witnessed eerie calm
before tabloid magazines
ripped pages incomplete bios

unleashed blitzkrieg bullets
rent asunder sanguine flickr
joyus kindled linkedin
outlook presaging quaint
good n plenti peace on Earth
good will to men/women

annihilated as bullets besieged
random innocent victims
giddily, indiscriminately, wantonly...
slain in cold blood
immediate conspirator theorists
gin up rumor mill

defend homicidal maniac
simultaneously don MAGA hats
invectives incurring anti racist
bigoted, capital one 
demagogue googly eyed president
unsurprisingly witnesses 
popularity uptick

"loose canon" Grinchy grin
hooligan prince smiles
Machiavellian ghost lauds
apprentice regarding 2020 candidacy
able, ready, and willing
promise furnishing arms to the teeth
for every man, woman, and child
as campaign slogan.


Premium Member A Gentle Pen

Grace, with it’s gentle pen, writes hope
across my heart, in trembling ink
promising me that I can cope,
knowing His love is the one link..

erasing all my doubts, stirring
grace, with it’s gentle pen, writes hope
into my soul, still incurring
melodies of light who elope

with Him, there’s no reason to mope
or remember the sins long gone
grace, with it’s gentle pen, writes hope
and love to which I’m always drawn

His light sings gently to my heart
thanks to Him, I’ll not have to grope
for the kindness that won’t depart 
grace, with it’s gentle pen, writes hope
Form: Quatern

Practice

Many people will finally pray when someone dear is lost
Or when they've lost their way thus incurring a terrible cost
Usually spur of the moment if I can ever even get a chance
As thus this poem has been sent for you to maybe alter your stance

For think of a great swimming champion do they swim only once a week
For with just that little bit being done should it be the gold that they seek
Maybe even just sitting at the pool and just watching the others swim by
One would have to be a fool if you think that any swimmer can stay dry

Or a pole vaulter who jumps and goes soaring in the air
They have taken many lumps in order to obtain such flair 
Not just a few minutes once a week or a couple times a year
Chances of winning would be bleak are the words in your ear 

No, to be really good at anything it always takes a lot of practice
It's the effort you now bring as greatness always comes from this
It's staying in touch all the long day and right before you go to bed
Because that is really the only way that you'll ever hear what GOD has said
Form: Rhyme

I Made Big With God

No riches to be accumulated by me,
and no cathedrals to be built and penetrate
the vagrant clouds giving the resemblance
of a reachable Heaven so fuzzy,
because this mind is guided by faith...
and is not controlled by a limited furtherance!

I made big with God, not following the madness
which seeps into our imprudent soul,
and makes us see a false greatness...
forgetting that Man and God cannot be equal!

I've found no joy more thrilling and genuine
than that of our merciful and powerful God:
asking us to choose right and good,
and live without being inflicted by a single pain;
He opens our mind, fraught with danger, to awareness...
not to be obscured by a fiendish influence!

I made big with God, not being fanciful,
frivolous and inconsiderate of others;
offensive, hard-hearted and formidable ...
never incurring perils or losses!  

No violent storm swept me aside,
no intruder attempted to cut short my invaluable life;
I was always shielded by a massive rock,
unable to pierce my body and cause me harm!

I made big with God, unaware that 
He was always present in my thoughts 
deeds and words...controlling every single emotion,
every small step down the path of redemption!
Form: Ballad

Acquiescence Begets Hegemony

Acquiescence begets hegemony...

Think Putin whose forename
Vladimir translates as great power,
whose singular minded aim
after lobbing bombs into
second-largest country
by area in Europe after Russia
incurring voodoo spells
foisted upon president of Ukraine
forced neophyte politician
Volodymyr Oleksandrovych Zelenskyy
to buckle and cower.

Meanwhile many another leader
cherishing their slice of freedom
quakes in their boots
dumbfounded, horrified, tight lipped
as Russian bird of prey
swoops down analogous as buzzfeeder
to seize global totalitarian power.

Not far fetched dystopian nightmare
to envision every country
spanning webbed wide web
subservient to his majesty
where pay obeisance
to his honorable premier
who issues commands
at his Kremlin headquarters.

Aforementioned worse case scenario,
whereby every waking 
and sleeping second
under watchful eye
all social media platforms
under henchmen of Putin regime
monitored, governed, controlled...
by self anointed unnameable nemesis

their doomed fate constituting
penalty of death wasting away
amidst Gulag Archipelago
(happy haunting ground
of many a dissident)
if anyone among bajillions of serfs
heard to badmouth, denounce, find fault...
with despotic, cruel, bristling, autocrat...

Meanwhile, these remaining cherished
hours, minutes, and seconds
before United States of America
forcibly plundered, usurped, yanked...
(at threat of nuclear bombardment
courtesy you know who)
might choose to swallow
either cyanide, hemlock,
overdose on anti anxiety medication...
versus forced to become submissive
toward our "benevolent" leader.

Truth be told even Trump
yours truly would prefer
yet fat/slim chance
such a golden opportunity will occur,
though rumor abounds were
pee you tee eye en able to clamor
access and excel at supremacy

(as seen in a powerpoint presentation)
there would prevail nary a murmur,
nor peep among the human league
only dogs and cats would be privileged
to express themselves,
viz courtesy to bark and purr
and actually be treated as royalty.
Form: Rhyme


Argh An Errant Stray Left Parenthesis

Upon (die) re rhea ding previous poem
     All In The Name Of "Progress" zen
a glaring, leering,
     and twittering left par wren
     dared to a right (i.e. bribe)
     corrective punctuation measure
     slyly slipping Special Ops symbol ")"
     for so many yen,

thus see slipped thru my excellent
     proof reading, when
lo and behold consternation,
     inconsideration, and perturbation
I thought to take a page
     from playbook of Sylvia Plath,
     and stick my head in the oven
but lo, a sardine recipe

     (though a bit fishy),
     could be found necessitating cauldron
     only available for purchase in Turin
thus donned with a shrouded cape,
     aye didst make whoosh,
     hence, went there and came back
     and frankly tubby earnest,
     thence began stir'n

a bubbling concoction brew
though duration for perfect consistency
     aye lacked any clue
thus, needed to contact
     Hannibal the cannibal
     asper what to do
in order (I explained)
     to sever livingsocial,

     and forever hang my head in shame
     cuz, accidentally omitting
     one right parenthesis too few
hence, esteemed flawless glory,
     (sans error free grammarian
     reputation pitched downward
     where careless evinced
     Kamikaze nosedive, where

     matter of fact gross humiliation
     instantaneously grew
and the only viable option
     forced me to hew
admitting to egregious, fatuous, abhorent
and readily confesses
     compunction viz, grievously
     blatant Anglo Saxon

     Horrifying transgression
involving backward curved "C" sin bent
a most execrable,
     incorrigible, and unforgivable
     literary faux pas incurring
     major cosmic event
stripped of title special
     Das Scribe double bubble "A" gent!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Upon complying never to err again
Matthew Scott Harris since
     accepted plea bargain
accepting sentence resting his chin
til indelible necklaced "U" lettered grin
forever visible to kith and kin.

Premium Member God Does Nothing Half Wa

God Does Nothing Half Way
Written: by Tom Wright
3-1-2014


Some years ago God introduced,
A special person to our path;
One whom I couldn’t turn away,
Without incurring God’s wrath;

She became more than a friend,
One over whom oft we’d fret.
Neither time span nor miles, 
Ever furnished reason to forget;

We can’t explain this alliance,
Nor do we feign to understand.
We just accept it as God’s will,
You were sent to make life grand.

Sometimes the simplest event,
Changes life’s course one day;
We hope you feel our love for you,
For God does nothing half way.
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric

In the Shroud of An Incognito

Why was born in that specific time,
sealing a fate too quick to regret,    
when changes swept an entire world?
In some places there was war,
and in others there was peace,
but the unrest was read on every face;
and the most courageous ones joined the fight,
to defend their freedom on this once-serene shore...
who could have sensed the anticipation of discord?   

My dilemma seemed to bother me alone,
everybody else went about their normal living,
without the anxiety and the worry of being
carried away by the pathetic winds of sub-consciousness;
was I being neglected and rejected for my opinions?
Nobody seemed to listen or even care:
a battle is fought by all, and the fiercest warrior must lead
them in the challenging battle-field...
to determine ways how to win it without incurring many losses;
and an exaggeration, with boastful praises, would be unfair!  

I exercised caution not to provoke hostility,
or aggravating those tensions already exposed to anger,
so I hid myself  in the shroud of an incognito:  to bear
a day-to-day existence sensing a denial of sympathy;
to be a sentinel and warn what was the scourge of the lie,
because the evidence was as clear as a moonlit sky!

Making compromises to underline my concept...
words as concise as the ones spoken by a truthful mouth,
unvarying in their pure meaning, piercing as roses' thorns;
and then, menacing glances and sour eyes became the phantoms
that could have easily frightened me or harmed me with their enraged voices... 
I intercepted that danger and ended their madness!   

Approaching life without questioning one's heart,
without asking what can be claimed for every effort ever made,
implies an ignoble cause not needed to be scornfully concealed:
in the shroud of an incognito and be blameless of the internal conflict!

Premium Member America the Seeing-Eye Dog

Policy or personal
questions? In the poem Two White Wines
a child adopted from Cambodia
is a thing of beauty, and so she is
as she showed herself to be yesterday. Lovely. However
the poet implies market, i.e. economic, forces brought her to America
when, as her parents know, it was war,
the sad Vietnam War or the War with America
as I think the Vietnamese remember it.

Honor and bravery
equal courage. Reed Whittemore's poem about
a photo of Viet Cong prisoners, stoic, defiant
under an American officer's boot
expresses admiration for the enemy. Then and now
a dangerous sentiment. Your fellow citizens, denizens
of convenience stores, even your family,
may come to see you as the enemy. Once ostracized, the other,
not belonging to the loved ones, you're not long for
this world of dew.

**** and ****
Ken says, describes America's culture, not its poets
or jazz. What's worth fighting for?
Your land, your right to be stupid on your land.
Now there is one large land, one people
and many. The vote is a crude, monosyllabic grunt,
no way to express the subtle degrees of experience
our long lives represent. Thus,
it is good, when the family gathers, to talk,
each person speak
of what has been forgotten, forgiven and forgone.

Trading or taking
every family must be tithed or taxed.
Every man who finds his meaning in war
will be pained into wisdom and gentleness.
Who comes home
comes home to a future that bypassed the fighting, or did it?
The oil must be sold,
even Saddam or Osama cannot withhold it.
You can drink your quota of water
and still your heart can ache.

Empire or democracy
of nations? We can choose to be the reigning kings
between the last empire and the next
or we can implement a vision
of collective deliberation.
America the seeing-eye dog,
not America the junkyard dog.
Going question by question
toward predictable, transparent governance.
Example: How can a people become a nation
without resorting to violence or incurring violent reaction?

Paternal Misgivings Linger

Though thine two grown
     former babes in crib age,
now lead checkered lives,
     no longer monopolize my time

     as though their persons went backstage
either one embracing, judging,
     and negotiating positive
     chutes and ladders with courage

evoking glee this papa
     helped both beautiful lasses
     avoid being risk averse
     navigating life with minimal damage

though to get ahead of the class,
     (asper the eldest Eden Liat)
     credit karma fairly and squarely attributed
     to herself with encourage

meant from this papa, who oft time
     felt he lacked any clue
     akin to a hobbled battleship left
     to drift at sea, whence,

     upon landfall sub
     sequent lee forced to forage
in a foreign dominion (akin to being
     among Settlers of Catan),

     plus devoid of instruments to gauge,
     an optimal strategic operation,
     thus figuratively groping in the dark
     (unaware of a brewing twister)

     guided by blind faith
doth admit saying sorry,
     but apologetic homage
     would disqualify thyself,

     a "FAKE" mastermind
     undeserving of just desserts,
unfairly via diktat plucking sweet treats
     awash within Candy Land,

     a deceptive image
entrancing, luring and, spellbinding
     ultimately incurring trouble,
particularly when Shana Aubrey

     (younger by about
     twenty six months)
garnered lion's share of parental attention
     necessitated mandatory intervention

      due to language
skills, plus pronounced
     developmental delay,
     where supreme social service

     sages gentle massage
wrought divine prestidigitation
     as one after another
     case worker did overencourage

to counteract congenital
     cognitive setback (coalesced in utero),
now finds das dada envious
    (cuz, aye got mired, hogtied, 

     and bogged down with
    obsessive compulsive trivial pursuit, 
     hence warrant so lucky as thee Punim)

     steers ship shape body electric
     round her uncharted cerebral
     cape of good hope passage.
Form: Elegy

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