Long Irony Poems

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


Premium Member Blame the Cocker Spaniels

It’s the Cocker Spaniels this time the media screams
I roll my eyes, wondering when the cats will get some blame
Or the monkeys, cheetahs, sharks or giraffes
They are diabolical, plotting your death, the announcer says
I do not plot her death, but I plot taping her mouth up.

The pit bulls were the last group to blame.
What about the housewives? Do they use environmentally friendly detergent?
or the house husbands….do they recycle their lard like grandma did?
How about the grandmas who feed their pets with Styrofoam?

We are the polluters.
We are the litterers.
We are the ones driving cars one person at a time.
But let’s blame the Cocker Spaniels.
I shut off the T.V.


Curse of Effort

Why is ugly, ugly?
Maybe things are not
As bad as they seem 
Could it be because we are frustrated 
Things are not the way we dreamt 
As you get older 
Learn to control your temperature
Become your own mentor
This means more than it does now
Or more than it once did 
Me, Myself 
I seem to pursue all with doubt 
With flanky obstacles 
I continue to flirt 
Thy curse of effort
The diversity 
Between things you like and dislike
You dislike it so much 
You no longer can stand to look upon it 
As I am hideous for this bland explanation
People become ugly
For they are not who or what we 
Perceive them to be
A smile that could feed the starving
The irony in how happiness
Became a dying thought 
In this ever  flourishing garden
So why is ugly, ugly?
Simply because it is not the picture  
We look to see
Ugly is not beautiful
But it’s all lovely
Form: Lyric

Famous Ii

He was famous for being famous,
Nobody knew what he’d done:
But he was famous for being famous 
And that was good enough some.
And he was there at every function
Party, Birthday,  Bar Mitzvah, barbecue
In fact if he wasn't there 
It just wasn't considered a do.

When asked why he was famous
He’d give an enigmatic smile
And the question was forgotten
In a very little while.
And then the police arrested him
On suspicion of a long past crime 
And some said they’d had
Their suspicions all the time.

And then the police released him
With not stain on his name 
People said no smoke 
Without fire just the same. 
He put his house Up For Sale
And then he was gone,
Just upped and packed his bags
And so very quietly moved on.

For weeks it was the topic
Of our quiet village life
Until a certain worthy was found 
In bed with the wrong wife
He'd been famous for being famous 
Nobody knew what he’d dome
But he was famous for being famous 
And that was good enough some.
Form: Rhyme

Frosted Flakes

He can't stop rhyming.
His mind races in cadence and timing.
Writing muses from within,
In both darkness and light, they begin.

Put to paper, in one pen stroke,
No force edits, and none of the hoke.
Modernists may very well blaspheme,
Believing they write, in deeper theme.

Cluttered words, and punctuation on a page,
As if contortion, should serve as the gauge.
A rhyme might accidentally appear,
but only in likeness, feeling quite 'impure'.

A well-known Frosted poet, left readers stunned;
This poem's title may find you, unknowingly punned.
This Flake will write, as his mind dances,
Until proven otherwise, he'll take his chances.

7/26/2017

Relatively new to PS, this first poem tried to poke fun at modernism.  I grew up with poems that rhymed.  I was surprised by the number of free verse poems and their popularity.  Being on PS has allowed me to broaden my idea of poetry.  I've learned that Free verse is universal, while rhyming is limited by dialect.  The best lesson I've learned is that less is often more.  It is surprising how a three, line 20 word poem can say so much.  I'm still a rhyming addict...
Form: Rhyme

Soon My Birthday Candles

Soon.  My Birthday Candles

This last autumn is constantly milky white or drawn gray hanging down between the trees without an intent to reveal any blue of a sky exists so making ever higher a reach to heaven re-routing confusing 
even angels

this last autumn of the present decade of my life when I celebrate longevity along with God my ABBA who carried me here beyond all forecasts for that era when futures for child-diabetics were inevitably             
stricken short
     
but I with my family made an art of survival turning trials into challenges for feats of every fibre questing on the full-sail voyage  together more 
we made an art of effort of optimism of caring 
of aspirations...

none would have believed blowing out these candles marking 
six-decades aging after all my beloved had sat around grandma’s 
kitchen table with small sweetened-laughs saying “oh  Sally...you wil 
outlive us all” blowing out candles

with such wishes and exclamations as “...and many more..” 
filling the air rejoicing how their delicate child wedged 
between life and death went forth with blessed broad smiles 
and love-seeded pathways of purpose...

***********.            *************.             ***********
(c) sally Young eslinger 12/1/2020
Thanks be to God
Form: Prose


Premium Member Friends

FRIENDS

5000 friends and not a drop of care.
Its like being stranded in the
middle of the ocean 
with no water to digest-
Remember Water,water everywhere -
and not a drop to drink ?
Facebook is sea of friends,
and when you need one oh well...
Human nature kicks in...wrong
impression and misconception.

Just learn to be a friend-
all that's required is a little
communication without judging -
a listening ear and a sincere heart- 
and the integrity to look 
for nothing in return
.
Friends-friends everywhere- - -
but not a one to stop and think
Friends do not ask for, 
or allude to asking
for personal loans,
or sex, on the internet.

5000 friends and not a drop of care...
For you few who are sincere-
There are more like you out there;
Don't lose faith in man-kind;
Still do not stay silent when you see 
someone doing harm.
Watch the ones who tell you-
your attire is all wrong-
you get to the party and see
them flexing in the same one.

People on the internet are still people,
it's just you are not able to
smell them coming...( hahaha)
Use all the rest of your Five senses,
do not be frighten, just heighten
the the ones you have.
And by all means use 
your spiritual powers-
-Ask for and use the 
" Spirit of discernment"

A Mother

My mother died surrounded by those who knew her only by a 

narrowly defined role and failure of expectations. While to this 

day, only seen as the blame for their short-comings, deficiencies 

and mistakes, due to choosing to grant them a life where she had 

very little control and all needs unmet were also burdened by 

resentment of society. That her plight is invisible due to gender is 

a story of discrimination that goes untold or just unheard. She --the 

mother-- may as well had died alone, since who she was, just invisible to 

those surrounding her, while there being anything more about her 

than they knew is just incomprehensible as she faded away from 

a life so unfulfilled.
© Jean Davis  Create an image from this poem.

STEADILY THINKING ABOUT THIS

Women will say it's men
Men will say it's women
They all throwing 
Shades at each other 
Defending their gender 
Tendering different agenda.

Women will leave their man
Because he cheated 
Then go to another man
Who's cheating on his woman 
What a irony... Circle keeps repeating 

Men will be telling several girls 
Same thing but different feelings 
Feelings depend on her vibes 
Time passes, little misunderstanding 
They break up, then go to another woman
Who's probably not satisfied in her present relationship.

I know they're some women and men
Who don't cheat, they're fidelity 
Men and women 
Keep accusing each other 
Thinking they will never unite
But every weekend;
Friday, Saturday and Sunday 
There's always a wedding ceremony to attend.
Men and women, who cheats most!?...
Form: Narrative

The Sunny Day Blues Man

living for the moment
ended life as we knew it 
but i'm just doing whatever
kind of hoping 
for some entertainment 
along the way

a day in the life 
of the sunny day blues man
hands down 
this is the best i ever was
the best i'll ever be
don't you agree

the sunny day blues man
isn't it funny the way news slants
the return of the sunny day blues man
just be happy with what you choose man
Never a better option than a given hand
thank god for the sunny day blues man

hope isn't a measure 
it's just tested time
a clamp of suspense 
when the moments array
an echo of needs 
to balance out 
the ways things seem
desire
is the best you and I 
will ever be
don't you agree

the sunny day blues man
isn't it funny the way news slants
the return of the sunny day blues man
just be happy with what you choose man
Never a better option than a given hand
thank god for the sunny day blues man

at times life seems to cycles 
signals of distress
vanity and cupcakes 
i know, it's a brute mess
but along with the irony 
comes pancakes 
yes, the madness seems to iron me
yet i am still here

the eyes a thinker
life of a fighter
hands of a lighter weight 
unburdened 
when smiles reflected a pinch of hurting
because in punishment
the sunlight just couldn't outreach the curtains
though we take the steps alike
we trespass the worries to vaguely
but it was times like these that made me 
and it's the best i'll ever be

"the things we accept in steps of courage"

Premium Member The Walk Ver2

The Walk          part 1

Tired of it all
The bottle empty did fall
On the third floor
I looked out
Skeptical
Of the distance
Fatal or just painful?

I have had enough pain
Looking out, it began
To rain
For my final walk
I took an umbrella
I was that kinda fella

Strolling down the avenues and streets
The bridge called Freedom nearing my weary feet
I walked up and halfway across
Looking at the darkness swirling in my head
The river I am sure would consume me dead

So I jumped




The Bridge          part 2


Over to the side, as a car flashed by
Why that was close, close to die
As I stared down the murky river black
I decided not now
I will walk on back
On the avenue called Destiny
A robber jumped out
Your money or your life! He cried
I had left my wallet at home you see
Not thinking an identity would matter much to me
The robber seemed to disbelieve
As the gunshot rang out
I fell on top of my own irony


So I jumped

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