Long Interstitial Poems
Long Interstitial Poems. Below are the most popular long Interstitial by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Interstitial poems by poem length and keyword.
A rhetorical question finds me ask
king (to no one in particular) why I bask
with recollection the names of blank
exclamatory staid grade school crank
key teachers approximately
42,0480,000 breaths aye drank
fifty years ago (most whose names frank
lee listed below),
when the need to access
and retrieve
immediate necessary information
analogously interleaved
among coaxial bracts
during examinations relegated
as hopelessly lost
into interstitial invisible cranial cracks
irretrievably buried
during examinations, which age
(feels like a million years ago)
often found me seized and caged
with sudden inability to remember
any vital answers as gauged
evidenced by nothing writ
ten on paper (even including my name),
thus loosely similar as aye sit
to compose poetry,
and/or prose tempted to quit
asper defeated by resignation,
and sinking sensation in the pit
of my stomach (more so regarding orbit
ting like an unsound garden
black hole son around cold (mit
ten necessary) awful days grudgingly
handing over like a lit
till insignificant being,
a test paper devoid of academic grit
analogously surrendering
(while feeling fit
tubby tied, sense internally emit
ting abnegation sans chafing at the bit,
2.
yet no sooner did buzzer indicated test
time over, then (of course),
an instantaneous pest
that blocked chunk dramatically
flowered gloriously invoking nest
head treasured mother lode
of learned information invest
ment accounting for principle ball lanced
formerly figuratively barricaded facts
suddenly at my behest
ironically retaining to this day
dogged details amazingly,
now gracing lix spittle fist size gray
dictating academic failure
forcing laying down pen hay
for ma forgotten requisite thoughts may
king skepticism about self thrive, ray
zing mailer demons impossible to slay.
I so abhor to acquiesce to all this balderdash -
some bloke with his colleen in arm has offered me some cash.
Though dubious that I may be, my dilly dally ways
have left me pinchin' pennies and beggin' for some pay.
So fifty bucks, a rented tux, an easy ride that day,
clandestine gig to get the scoop on what Tallulah says.
I'd heard about that Bankhead broad, a foxy lady sure,
and gender-bender quick to jump in bed with those not pure.
A quintessential interstitial, between the ears she wants,
would go with any randy, rambunctious recalcitrant,
provided they had gizmo, either natural or toy,
and it mattered not whether they were female or a boy.
Though shilly-shally stupid me would often vacillate,
a downtown wing ding Jim jam night sure could tintillate.
Though diddlysquat I knew about the blowhards at this fest,
I grabbed the half o' "C" and proudly donned my hat and vest.
"Who is this Mickey Mouse I see, a hooligan adorned,
whose hither yon and useless ways have often left him scorned!"
And, though I felt like staring there, a mirrored self-lambaste,
I grabbed my cape, usurped my thoughts, with little time to waste.
Old Chico Marx, Doug Fairbanks Jr., Errol Flynn attend.
Shortly warnings cut the air, "On guard my fuzzeled friend!"
Glancing 'round, I'm thankful not to be the rapiered foe.
The Fairbank's stare, the Errol swagger, glissade that they well know.
"Nit pick not", I say, lest I become the prey.
"Affaire de coeur my evil man", I hear Sir Douglas say.
Old codger Chico wryly smiles with guilty funny face,
when then Tallulah enters and her beauty fills the place.
Defend Miss Bankhead, now I must, so I cold-cocked the man,
Then turned around to find Tallulah, face to face we stand.
"Miss Tallulah would ya like ta...well, I guess...get lucky?"
To my surprise, her reply was, "Abso-bloody-lutely"!
Off we went, ethereal bliss, my ego she and me.
Hindsight temps with fifty bucks but I'd do it all for free!
(In a dream!)
I have learned the language of water
how it speaks in percussion on tin roofs,
in whispers against windowpanes,
in the slow saturation of earth.
Each drop carries a latitude,
a longitude of sky it fell from,
mapping its descent through cumulus,
through the territories of wind.
The puddles become mirrors of inversion,
where trees grow downward into depths,
and clouds lie trapped beneath our feet
like continents we'll never walk.
I stand at the boundary of wet and dry,
that shifting border where the world
divides itself between the fallen
and the falling, the soaked and soon-to-be.
And in this interstitial space,
I am neither sheltered nor exposed,
but something in between, a witness
to the patient rewriting of the land,
one syllable of water at a time,
each one a word in an endless poem
the sky has been composing
since before we learned to listen.
A rhetorical question finds me ask
king (to no one in particular) why I bask
with recollection the names of blank
exclamatory staid grade school crank
key teachers approximately
42,0480,000 breaths aye drank
fifty years ago (most whose names frank
lee listed below),
when the need to access
and retrieve
immediate necessary information
analogously interleaved
among coaxial bracts
during examinations relegated
as hopelessly lost
into interstitial invisible cranial cracks
irretrievably buried
during examinations, which age
(feels like a million years ago)
often found me seized and caged
with sudden inability to remember
any vital answers as gauged
evidenced by nothing writ
ten on paper (even including my name),
thus loosely similar as aye sit
to compose poetry,
and/or prose tempted to quit
asper defeated by resignation,
and sinking sensation in the pit
of my stomach (more so regarding orbit
ting like an unsound garden
black hole son around cold (mit
ten necessary) awful days grudgingly
handing over like a lit
till insignificant being,
a test paper devoid of academic grit
analogously surrendering
(while feeling fit
tubby tied, sense internally emit
ting abnegation sans chafing at the bit,
yet no sooner did buzzer indicated test
time over, then (of course),
an instantaneous pest
that blocked chunk dramatically
flowered gloriously invoking nest
head treasured mother lode
of learned information invest
ment accounting for principle ball lanced
formerly figuratively barricaded facts
suddenly at my behest
ironically retaining to this day
dogged details amazingly,
now gracing lix spittle fist size gray
dictating academic failure
forcing laying down pen hay
for ma forgotten requisite thoughts may
king skepticism about self thrive, ray
zing mailer demons impossible to slay,
The time ticks by
As I stare at the clock
Knowing my near future.
Just sitting
Waiting.
No news, no change.
Storms rage,
Confusion, resignation, consternation .
The time seems slower somehow.
Like the whole world still turns but us.
Decisions. Coffee? No coffee?
Who can predict?
People bustle, not knowing, dazed.
Children scream with over tired,
Hot sticky evening air.
All becomes predictable,
We all make a new temporary home here.
As if we are refugees
Clubbed together in our island
Our land of no name
No country.
All set adrift.
Time still ticks by,
Ever slower.
Stretching each second
Elongating the interstitial pauses.
We can do no more.
We eat, drink, shop.
Nothing in those world
Is like an airport delay
I descried a ghostlike glimpse,
of steel breath on blunt mirror,
as my taut brain mulled scars,
from fractal bleak life motif,
zooming over skewed glass,
reflections glum and forlorn,
black ink eye ring capture,
shadow, shade, or shield,
brittle convex, abject cog,
whoa, my frail image riven
Buoyant pneuma projects,
stuck on screen mimicry,
impact ray remedial dent,
on jumpy jitter edge twin,
shaft between rotated a plus,
my geometric bent wavelength,
mere focal countenance,
epoch elapsed pier gaper,
morphing current field of view,
behind hollow sphere’s mask
Silver, aluminium, gold metal,
counterpart to my snapback,
curved aspect to visual plane,
optical illusion now infinite,
refurbish bone-weary scraps,
as sinistral dextral frontispiece,
august neck crane of aperture,
green speck tunnel sighting,
a trick of the light axial ploy,
prism dispersing faux rainbow
Jagged shard bias plummet,
obsidian or shinning copper,
glint and glare bounce factor,
mirror varnish vandalised,
leafy quatrefoil resemblance,
harsh hallucinating peep,
stiff lens on prior passage,
when aghast, shrill alarm,
might re-echo or resonate,
with latent shock imprint
Acoustic wobbled surface,
noise returns sunny splatter,
merriment exuberant audible,
etched in sonic brush strokes,
interstitial dual facade,
splits a gleam diffuse,
watch my smirk refract,
is that mirror cracked?
off its alloy succour,
stone hearted crop
Rent beads amass,
one shrunken clone,
me in smithereens,
asides a plethora,
fraught mien on exhibit