Long Jellied Poems
Long Jellied Poems. Below are the most popular long Jellied by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jellied poems by poem length and keyword.
Jellyfish! Who could have named you
other than a creature structured
by a cage of bone?
Opaque but transparent
your arrested evolution
lives in an alien perfection.
You abide inside the sea, yet billowing that sea
through your bald, bladder body.
Propelled by the encompassing
and likewise, encompassed and captured
by that which fills and surrounds you.
Jellyfish, not a fish nor jellied
but muscular and powerful
yet in a strange, smooth-sided way
the way the deep is. Slick and slippery
as oleo. At once both a slack rippling
and a tenacious tough whiplash of power.
Your form a confliction,
a mass of otherworldly contradiction.
Under the knife
your body defies reason,
until we see the aerodynamics,
the subcutaneous aquatic precision
of your parts.
That glistening hood,
the bell shaped corpus of you,
but no brain just a stomach pouch
in place of any mentality,
perhaps your thoughts float free
inside that gaseous umbrella of your mind?
Multiple eyes dotted around the hood
like inky portholes.
A sallow mandible mouth
tucked like a fist under your hood
from which those ‘oral arms’
fan away from
to reach and gather morsels of meat.
These your only speech
as you consume a thrashing utterance.
Loosely arrayed about those mouth appendages,
are long trailing tentacles,
each sensitive feeler equipped
with venomous cells encrusted with barbs
that bite with a poisonous ferocity.
Jelly fish, your anatomy is upside down
and inside out, and yet
we cannot doubt the impeccable necessity of you,
the point of you,
and perhaps even the point of us
as we search
for that germinal sea within.
Through eldritch streets I walked alone
With shadows on my track,
Full jellied was my every bone,
I thought my mind would crack.
Through mist and morbid mire I went
To revel where gargoyles dwell,
A guest whose soul was spent,
To meet the host - the King of Hell!
Through caverns dark I made my way,
The squelch of shoe, the crack of bone,
Chittering squeaks from shadowy grays,
Would never leave me alone.
At last I reached the caverned maw,
Ceiling glint with stalactites,
And of course its bretheren I saw,
The saber-toothed stalagmites.
And on the high-domed hellish lair
Hung a grinning crystal skull,
It threw a ghoulish, greening glare
Which made my senses dull.
All around there was a damp,
A noxious putrid smell,
And slightly a-centre on a ramp,
Stood grinning the Lord of Hell.
His feet were hooved, his head was horned,
He flashed his fang-like teeth.
His eyes were huge and darkly burned;
Heart stopped, I could hardly breathe!
"Welcome", boomed my infernal host,
And flashed a rotting smile,
"A welcome drink, a one-time toast,
Before you join my rank and file!"
Something clammy seized my mind,
My clothes turned very wet,
I screamed and woke myself to find
I wasn't dead as yet.
But close to it I surely was,
My narco-ed mind amid I had lain,
At hell's door without a fuss,
When with maddened mind I'd cut my vein!
Spearmint grass and cotton candy trees
Banana palms and coconut breeze
Fiery cinnamonworks to glisten the skies
Apple turnovers and cherry-filled pies
Tiny teacup cookies with sugar plates
Sweet cranberry sauce and jellied dates
Chocolate clouds with a banana-split sun
Delicate roses taste like raspberry gum
Juicy sweet treats in a world of fun
Stretching as far and as wide as I can run
Hershey-kissed mountaintops with milk-dud dirt
Blistering vanilla-frosting fog dances by my skirt
Cherry-flavored rocks made from candy too
Every color of our rainbow --- purple, pink, and blue
White-chocolate doves fly hollow in the sky
More candy here than anyone can buy
Entry for Brian's December 2011 Contest
REALLY
I ------JGL-------------- do solemnly swear
to tell you of all that I see and I hear,
invite you inside that dark space in my mind
allow you ten minutes to see what you find.
The errors of learning, childhood mistakes,
the stumbles, the falls, the failed “buckboard brakes”.
The cold teaching penguins, the hollowed out priests
the making of bread with - and without – yeast.
Fumbling of footballs and endless first dates
running for freedom through open church gates,
searching for meaning in life – or in death
discovering reasons – rekindling breath.
Disrobing a man - standing naked – and free
discarding the concepts that kept me – from me,
confronting the demons, denying the brutes
by feeding the bastards their own lying truths.
Standing atop bold towers of steel
alive in a breeze that makes everything real,
holding a love that awakened my passions
cradled inside a life that she fashioned.
Holding small hands, jellied and sweet
dancing with them perched atop my big feet,
Frisbee and soccer played in cold rains,
drying their tears in failure and gains.
Losing a step, no – the grandkids are quicker
or maybe my gut is a little bit thicker,
holding one hand as one left for battle
remembering both when they held baby rattle.
Embracing a soldier, a mother, my baby
filled with the questions of “if, when, and maybe”
Watching a brother and sister rejoice
at announcement that soon there will be a new voice
to carry the heart, the soul, and the wit
of a name, and a family, and what goes with it.
John G. Lawless
9/3/2014
For Skat A Keep It Real poetry contest
Breathtaking views
the brochure said.
But for me
it was nothing but
a sheer drop, gravity's
worst nightmare lipped
on an edge and way below,
a brutal landing
of hard rock.
I don't like heights.
Up here I have the lot,
a panoramic view offering
no distraction to what
really waits for me
salivating beneath
my jellied feet.
Just a step away,
nothingness wells its hypnotic
horrors, a free fall into
the minds worse fate, flailing
limbs frantically reaching
for something firm
to hold onto in thin air.
Just think of it !
The last few seconds
of life bulleting downwards
towards oblivion.
No, I don't like heights.
I prefer to take my views
without a precipitous ledge,
closer to the ground,
then if I fall
it would be less likely
to be terminal and I'd
have no time to think
as I went down.
Suspended Animation De Rigueur Among "Joe King" Six Pack
Yepper, once body functions cease
asper this ole codger,
mere seconds after expiration,
sans existential lease
immortality avails rubbery piece
of flesh christened
Matthew Scott Harris,
the legal mouthpiece
decreed by living will
after organ activity doth cease
immediate measures taken
courtesy Doctor Demento to decrease
any further senescence
till heartening no brainer
preserves jellied rolled masterpiece
wordsmith, meanwhile, I can sublease
these bag of bloodless love bones
done deal, all yours for trifle bro
pittance costing no more
than one Pinocchio
plying attached strings,
yea kinda like ma's yoyo
mine limp fingers needed to pull
performing fetes resembling
dead spindleshanks longfellow
all the while appearing as cheap trick
courtesy super tramping marionette...lo
taking me across world wide web,
where yours truly housed in Tokyo
hotel, never tiring globe trotting
performing one man deadened show
after earning so much dough...
necessity will arise to call tow
truck (mebbe more'n one),
when after bajillion years
would utter whoa
abundant flush with moolah,
a sought after Joe Schmoe
earning hand over rigor mortis fist
pile of money that doth grow
by leaps and bounds - hiho
exceeding penury, when struggling as poet
Cain and Abel to silence
those opposed to Roe
versus Wade, incumbent upon minor woe
awaiting future technology so
rejuvenating lifeless chap easily
mistaken for scarecrow
can carry on camping y'know
whaddya mean...
not to leave ye in suspense
but gotta join grateful dead, and gotta go
Adieu!
Soundly you sleep, your insides at ease. Beside
you, I surge an uncharted storm of fearsome break for
it thunder-threatens my own sun’s velocity melt. Your
breathing is even and bears no concern, no fear or
resentment squeaks to rust your dream’s churn. All my
wishes wish it would; I want it to rob you, break your peace
to pieces, rough up all your pleases and scatter your calm.
Yesterday morn, the same ever alarm was greeted by our dual
yawns. I poured your coffee, you jellied my toast, we teased
about who loved the most versus who knotted our bed covers
tossed. I heard the garage jerk and bolt, the squeal of reverse
being forced and grinned that life so ordinary was actually a
fulfilling choice.
Later I chanced upon blemish, a day scar drama erasers can’t
touch, time can’t discard or blow into bits a kind wind might
take far. Even hours gone, with eyes closed, I cannot look away.
My insides toss green, then turn blue-black. My heart is cramped
and crumpled uneven, and my doubt is sure love-innocent trust
will never come back.
Our longtime love is not mere try or habit or lie, I know you want
me at your side, so why not a plan more focused to better secret
your sordid? Why carelessly litter dramatic change that my feet
must step around or in? You sleep unaware of my awake seeped
with betrayal:
Passionately you kissed another, gifted eye smiles on the street
to each other, while I was framed in the window of our
local and favorite grocer.
We walk the rocky shore and you lean heavily on me,
Mother, bruising my balky arm -- muttering "Ay, Hijo!".
A few steps and, breathless, we are both exhausted.
Your once-brown eyes, gone gray, are like
concentric rings rippling from a random stone
thrown into this polluted pond in winter.
Cataracts cloud your lenses; they have a ruptured look --
purple, jellied -- like the eyes of a dead fish which I poke,
perversely fascinated. It is puffed and rotten.
Your eyes are puffed, too, red-rimmed,
moist with tears that brim over
though you try to blink them back.
That you love me and I you,
and that we wish to extend
our time together, is clear.
As clear as the fetid water in the pond,
as clear as my conscience when I drop you
at the Home, having invented a meeting,
to which I must hastily fly.
This poem is not meant to offend anyone or belittle their beliefs. This is only my attempt at humor.
~Things I’ll Give Up for Lent~
Liver and onions,
Minced meat pie.
Drinking beer from a can,
Celebrating the 5th of July.
I’ll do away with Haggis,
Kiviak and Sheepshead Smalahoue.
Rocky Mountain Oysters,
Escargot and Fuhu.
Escamoles and fried Tarantula,
Jellied Moose and Airag.
Gaeng Kai Mot Daeng,
and baked polliwog.
Chocolate-covered bacon,
Candy corn or a root beer float
Goodbye Goober burgers,
and pickled ear of goat.
Koolickles, popsicles,
Hominy grits and Spam.
Frog’s eye salad and Turducken,
Tapioca and jellied Ham.
But on this Valentine's Day my dear,
know that there is one thing that's very true.
I'd rather give up my chance to go to Heaven,
then spend a single minute without you.
Fish and chips and a pint of dark brew.
Malt vinegar and lashings of salt.
A fish dinner served up
by a truck in a newspaper cone.
That was then, that was before
taste buds got hard boiled,
before the bowtie culture wars.
Pickled onions are now too small
they should have stayed big and brown
something saucy and sour to munch on
while walking around London town.
Peas pudding, jellied eels,
pork pie to tempt our eyes.
Mostly all gone
or not the same.
Shame,
for now we are cosmopolitan
even here in the Midwest
we are upscale in the fine dining fare.
French, Italian, Bolivian, Mongolian,
Mexican and Estonian, it's all good
or can be, but
fish and chips wrapped in newspaper,
nothing better!