Long Irks Poems
Long Irks Poems. Below are the most popular long Irks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Irks poems by poem length and keyword.
In the sweet spring air,
We love a long walk.
I fancy he listens
As I blabber and talk.
I playfully sigh
Once we come in the door —
Someone’s muddy paws
Have painted the floor.
In the hot summer air,
We drive to the beach.
He pulls off my flip flop,
And runs out of reach.
As dusk settles in,
He nips at a firefly;
While never successful,
He loves to just try.
In the brisk fall air,
I need time to breathe,
But he begs, “one more time,
Throw my ball to retrieve!”
When I bring out the pumpkin,
He wants his fair share.
I say, “down boy, down!”
But he acts unaware.
In the cold winter air,
Snow lands on his face . . .
Just a second of calm —
Then a squirrel to go chase!
Only back inside does he now shake off,
Melting snow and frost cascading.
I groan but deep down I know:
What makes his personality his own
Are his quirks and irks,
Misdeeds and misleads,
Imperfection but true affection,
That I would, of course, never consider trading.
No trespassing! You with the straw hat you need to go
You’ve a startled face that laughs as you scratch your belly
Recycle man and your thirty-nine-gallon bag in tow
There’s nothing to salvage here, only rubbish I throw
It’s my property which you invade, you’re in my alley
No trespassing! You with the straw hat you need to go
You're an eyesore to behold, I told you long ago
But words mean nothing, man of rubbish so smelly
Recycle man and your thirty-nine-gallon bag in tow
My hands shake, I pray that you don’t come by tomorrow
I’ve seen you eat out of the can, this isn’t a deli
No trespassing! You with the straw hat you need to go
A penny a dime a quarter, it's chump change you borrow
What can these empties buy what is your tally?
Recycle man and your thirty-nine-gallon bag in tow
Haunting dreams in which you appear, it irks me so
I’ll set a trap for you, a poisoned biscuit and jelly
No trespassing! You with the straw hat you need to go
Recycle man and your thirty-nine-gallon bag in tow
Maties I will say Ahoy
And tell you things that just annoy
The wind out of all my sails
As I state a little tale
Of something that irks my ship
While we take a little trip
Through the waters of my mind
Come with me and you will find
The anchor that's pulling me down
Will soon make you cry and frown
Something that needs to be sank
Wishing it would walk the plank
Leaving a big splash of hope
That will climb up a big rope
Into the crows nest up above
Filling up the world with love
Instead of hatred being shot
From a cannon to the hearts
Of the weak in every port
Who have tried so hard and fought
Not to surrender, plead or beg
To what's in the powder keg
Of every racist in the county
Who takes the innocence's bounty
Away each and every time
They do this dastardly bad crime
AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH !!!!!!
For the Annoy Contest
The Youth:
The clock's face smirks at me.
It mocks my glare and irks me.
I roll my eyes, it grinds its gears.
I tap my pen, it tocks and sneers,
its minute hand a finger
that flips me off and ticks me off...
This class will never end.
The Dead:
The clock is a useless tool,
only taunting fools who let it,
only making rules that people fuel
by immersing their lives
in stringent time.
The Elder:
The clock 's face pities me.
It stares at me with sympathy.
It counts each white hair on my head.
It counts the lines that branch and spread
across my weary skin.
It ticks and tricks just like a bomb
counting down to an epilogue.
It counts my beats like a metronome
And tocks in foreign tongues.
Still, I dread the day
this torture stops.
The Dead:
The clock is a useless tool,
measuring mortality,
narrowing vitality.
Don't let it tick-tock away
the waning moments
and fine components
of your final days.
For Craig's "Talking to Yourself" contest
A Tongue firmly in cheek poem based on soup poetry contests
I can only agree with your sentiment Mister Lawless
Although I enter a few select contests nevertheless!
I know you’re discerning, and don’t show any bias
Yet with some sponsors wins they clearly deny us!
Some claim they judge blind, do they take us for fools
Buddies given top spots, they don’t follow their rules!
Regarding ‘no names’ once a sponsor soup mailed me
Saying ‘I could do better’ so my poem wasn’t top three!
I see crass decisions, syllable counts that are very wrong
A typo and poor rhyming, yet they still win a blinking gong!
What irks me is rhyming forms that have errors in the rhyme
Yet the sponsor declares the winning poem was totally sublime!
I take the risk with this contest, knowing I may get an n/a
If it doesn’t place I’ll put it in a ‘screwed’ contest one day!
For those who aren’t aware n/a stands for ‘not a chance’
Some even pull their losing poem in that circumstance!
I use contests to boost my creativity, I don’t enter every one
as it’s not the Nobel Poetry Prize when all is said and done!
I don’t need to enter every stinking poetry soup contest
Knowing many wins are fixed and MY poem was the best!
Contests! We don’t need no stinking contests
Sponsored by John Lawless
7/21/18
What can I say
I don't receive it every day
Though I never check it
But once a year
So how would I know
If It was really there
Just like on Facebook as well
I never check my messages
Which irks my daughter to no end
Though I truly must confess
This is also the way of my house
As I watch the messages scroll
And I wonder should I answer it
By the time I figure out if I should
That number is surely gone from sight
It is no big thing to me though
My older sister used to go crazy
She would say how am I suppose
To get a hold of you in an emergency
I'd say because I hear the message
I most always keep the ringer off
Then I had the see through phone
So I just watched the lights go off
Maybe I will check my soup mail
more often than not
I wrote this last night because I checked my soup mail and seen there were 5 messages;
9/ 24- 25/ 12;30am 2012
And Mama pins laundered sheets on the clothesline
Raising her creamy arms with a hum,
Gentle against tainted bricks of our wall
Right in front of this grassy yard…
My velvet dress all spruced up
Fragrant, pressed by morn’s daylight
On luster of mid-autumn:
I observed and scanned her thinning curves
While I paused to grasp that final snapshot;
Enough for me to watch her caring touch
The way she would affably blot out my girlish tears
Crawling down her hands:
The backdoor now swings loudly, then quietly
Exposing run-down, decaying frames
Which rarely irks a mood so airy as that last smile
In twilight’s passing: Robed in clean lacy gown,
Dreary heaves falter to speak …if she only knew
I tucked my velvet dress for my child, O Mama’s legacy.
*
8/26/2019
If Only You Knew: Silent One’s Contest
*
I can draw that he says.
I say okay.
He tries to, but it is not the same.
I tell him it is great.
He asks better than yours?
We both know it is not better or the same.
It is different.
Why don’t you draw something you want to draw? I suggest.
He smirks.
It will be better than yours, he brags.
Okay, I agree. That will be fine.
Yours is kind of plain, he tells me.
Okay.
Yours has too many dots.
Okay.
Yours is too playful.
I have stopped smiling and agreeing
Understanding now why other teachers become exasperated.
Mine is better he says.
I say agreed.
Mysteriously this makes him angry.
He has not gotten a rise out of me
And it irks him.
We draw in silence
Stuck with each other until the end of the day.
The next time I try to pick him up he says he does not want to go.
I do not blame him. I am not easily riled by children or childish behavior.
When you are child-like, it is an easy gig to survive.
Oh! Earth why are thou despondent?
What ails you?
Oh! Earth why are thou troubled?
What irks you?
Why do thou sit in despair?
Rise,
Be of good cheer,
Better days lie ahead,
Thy beauty returns to you,
Thy weary sons will be strengthened,
Thy dying offspring will be revived again,
Flora and fauna will sing melodious tunes,
None will be afraid of his neighbour,
The mighty will aid the feeble,
The strong will prop the weak,
Thy elements will come to you in peace,
They will wear changed garments,
Oh! Earth don’t fret,
Thy glory days come to you shortly,
They come to you in steady flights.
June 15, 2022,
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 2 Poetry Contest,
Mark Toney.
Let me tell all what is real.' That there are those
Who your lives; would steal' and lies do love
Yet more to degrade; to slap others faces
In retrograde, who count how long or short the
Time, they will allow; the rest of humankind.!
They own so many temporal things it irks my
Mind i feel the sting, I surmise it now.? Yet inside
I know..That ( tic tok )9 is run by 'the w h o' its not
Chinese as time will tell, yet it is a part of the plan
From hell.' No virus came from China either it just
To elude our reason..To mither..' I warn you all I
Hope you'll heed.? Stand clear don't allow lucifers
Seed to be sown in your spirits or minds.' Their end
Dosn't tarry yet it slumbers a bit.' Till those of evil are
Full with it.' They will inherit from the wage of sin
They shut the door to Jesus and would deny you
Also to go in, yet they have no lasting power i say.'
Turn and call on Jesus this God made day.' Who alone
All doubt and confusion dispells, whos name your lips
Can praise and tell.' Into your heart accept His Love
Converse with our father, who is above all principalitys
Every rule, escape from deception be no longer fooled.