Long Jinxed Poems
Long Jinxed Poems. Below are the most popular long Jinxed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jinxed poems by poem length and keyword.
Jinxed jesting jejune junior jobber...
just jabbering gibberish (A - I)
Again, another awkward ambitious
arduous attempt at alphabetically
arranging atrociously ambiguously
absolutely asinine avoidable alliteration.
Because...? Basically bonafide belching,
bobbing, bumbling, bohemian beastie boy,
bereft bummer, bleeds blasé blues, begetting
bloviated boilerplate bildungsroman,
boasting bougainvillea background.
Civil, clever clover chomping, cheap
chipper cool cutthroat clueless clodhopper,
chafed centenary, codifies communication
cryptically, challenging capable, certifiably
cheerful college coed.
Divine dapper daredevil, deft, destitute,
doddering, dorky dude, dummkopf Dagwood
descendent, dagnabbit, demands daring
dedicated doodling, dubious, dynamite,
deaf dwarf, diehard doppelganger, Doctor
Demento double, declaring depraved
daffy dis(pense)able dufus Donald Duck
derailed democracy devastatingly defunct.
Eccentric, edified English exile,
effervescent, elementary, echinoderm
eating egghead, Earthling, excretes,
etches, ejaculates, effortless exceptional
emphatic effluvium enraging eminent,
eschatologically entranced, elongated
elasmobranchii, emerald eyed Ebenezer,
effectively experiments, emulates epochal
eczema epidemic, elevating, escalating,
exaggerating enmity, enduring exhausting
emphysema.
Freed fentanyl fueled, fickle figurative
flippant fiddler, fiendishly filmy, fishy,
fluke, flamboyantly frivolous, fictitious,
felonious, fallacious, fabulously fatalistic,
flabbergasted, fettered, flustered, facile,
faceless, feckless, financially forked,
foregone, forlorn futile fulsome, freckled
feverish, foo fighting, faulty, freezing,
fleeting famously failing forecaster, flubs
"FAKE" fundamental fibber fiat, fabricating
fiery fissile fractured fios faculties.
Attributed To Concerned parents
of Traumatized Refugee
Dear Fred and Mary Anne MacLeod Trump...
Posthumous belated tattered letter fragment
recently discovered (liberally sprinkled with
hyperbole (presumed for greater audacious
zealousness), sans accidentally acquired
by yours truly.
Miscellaneous personal item highly valued
when thwarted from auctioneer, whose gently
persuasion collectible merchandise requisitioned,
thence keepsake property perfunctory mandatorily forfeited.
Due compensation from sole male heir (me),
whose long since (resting in eternal
peace) papa suffered degradation,
humiliation and understandable lamentation
as a kid living in Flatbush.
Authorities and expert legal scholars
pieced together what probably comprised
a lengthy epistle rivaling the Epic of
Gilgamesh).
Recollection recounted torturous,
malicious, and flagitious mean spiritedness
visited upon the ambitious, cadaverous, and
timorous body electric high-jinxed introverted male,
whose abstemious, conscientious, and nutritious
dietary regime, could not forestall rigor mortis.
A postscript (purportedly penned prior to
once philosophical pensive poet's papa's passing)
stated that said personage felt bitterness,
disharmonious envious self loathing.
That grownup man known as mine father,
though once upon a time, said recently
anonymous deceased old fogey ironically
registered as an atrocious, cantankerous,
and egregious deplorable high school student.
Also, the author of what constitutes partial
opprobrious litany attests during his
idolatrous, notorious, and semiconscious
Arab zombie school daze.
When you’ve had every chance and all resource in hand.
When you’ve been in good graces and known where you stand.
When you had God in Heaven reach down just to line it all up,
and you still found a way to fail. How could that be?
You look back in disbelief, regretfully
and feel like a failure, jinxed by a charm of bad luck.
Then you’re forced to ask yourself, “Should I go on?”
You wonder if maybe the timing was wrong,
that if you keep going, this time will it finally work out?
Cuz now there’s an omen that’s lurking behind,
waiting to take you down time after time.
It’s hard not to think that way, wondering what it’s all about.
But success in a very real sense is defined
as - starting things over again, one more time
than whatever the number of times it is that you’ve gone down.
Leave that omen behind in the re-view of life.
Drive off and keep going. Don’t even think twice.
For now, you know better in all things… this time around.
alternately titled: breast damned fallacy hi-jinxed!
In her “60 Minutes” interview aired
Sunday (March 26th, 2018),
the **** star known within red district
as Stormy Daniels bared
her "naked lady" version
swearing oath of honesty,
she emphatically dick cleared
on a stack of video nasties,
and x-rated 'zines
now she can live rest of life
guilt free offloading
hush money endeared
a posteriori into infinitely
jesting bordello loop
with calmly enchanting bug eyed,
drooling media hounds,
whose nostrils flared
squelching the trumpeting Don,
who maliciously glared
for traitorously breaching
“genital man's agreement”),
playing the (sock it to him role
of goody two shoes)
christened Stephanie Clifford)
shaggy long haired
pseudo Mayflower madam averred
to right justice in sought after
condom free nation,
where the turkey
ought tubby national bird
mandating free codicil
to second amendment as of furred
thus, that ass hide from right to bear arms
premature sea r man ejaculation
of Peter ought to be heard
where sudden sound
sans pubis seams burst
jock strapped unseen bulging Johnson's
onslaught hail of expletives cursed
out the mouth of salty sailor spewing Prez,
hook halled for a recess first
and foremost before
questioning resumed
automatically immersed
within tawdry tabloid pulp pit
whore sing Bacchanalian refused to quit
particularly when groin
set zipper (flimsy – obviously,
NOT put thru linkedin
locked down rigorous paces
realized, when pry vet eyelit
of trouser snake split)
yielding singular (nada so sterling)
gamut gallimaufry variegated erector set
with singular bulbous
ram rod rocket like trivet.
Zenith ~
a fatal lie written in forged gold,
but to read the bruised ballads I’ve bled
upon the palette of pixelated peridots
in ominous silence,
must I speak the
romanticized rhymes of funeral roses?
Perhaps then I’ll nestle
in the crest of nothingness
like a failed poet
numb to the power of thorns…
O embers of raven’s feathers,
I feel the unseen heat
of Hades’ wrath,
burning the lucid mirage
of sakura moon-glade,
and my soul sways along
the razor edge
of a stainless sword,
drunk on white-wine illusions,
oblivious to the
faceless phantoms
mimicking Reaper’s requiem
in spectral synchrony,
summoning wings of dusk
within my eclipsed heart,
to soar as a fire-dragon
kissed by blistering sins,
as if ticking sparks of time
did melt and merge
with psychedelic coals,
where I’ll rule as
the mistress of Lucifer,
hypnotized by
the deceased daffodils…
But I’m not lost.
I crave perpetual peace
away from the
prying eyes of society
that pushed me into
a whirlpool of whirling insecurities,
a maleficent maelstrom of trickery,
dying for a searing sip of afterlife,
where ashes of deceit
will no longer suffocate the sleep
that abandoned me
like the splitting stars in my mind
sprinkling scorching confetti
upon fragile fields…
O beloved, save me
from the dance of death
I long to taste the
tears before the sunrise.
I am frozen,
like an insomniac
gasping for love,
reaching for tender twilight
in a tortured tomb of cryptic tulips,
weaving my heartbeat across
your horizon,
pondering in elegies:
If I were thunder’s sigh,
and you,
the timeless starlight…
Why do lifelines still unravel
your love
in soft, velvety cadence?
For amidst jinxed lakes
between us,
this soul,
r e m a i n s
achingly tied to your
elusive heart…
I weep jinxed trinkets
clasped with obsidian oppression,
yet I am not weak ~
I am a beautiful wreckage
of weathered odysseys,
still ferrying the burden
of burnt promises
and bruised perceptions.
but they, the ignorant, remain oblivious ~
they do not know
where the ache of a heartbeat resides,
where the powerful pitch of a vibration
within a wistful violin,
soaked in soul’s rose water, illuminates…
so we question the lawless pages:
where do teardrops go?
where does the salt of sorrow settle,
crystallizing into the cadence of coldness
between the fingers of forsaken flesh,
or in sonnets never once allowed to rhyme,
within the formless art
of conventional conviction?
my tears are now studded stars ~
a cosmic current of scars,
creased with astral ash,
calling out the names of faces
as I drift toward the desire to be undone,
while sparks of moonlight
echo the throb
that trauma stole,
softly teasing
the vulnerable veins of twilight
as arteries of midnight
carry inner conflict
into a calming realm of warm release…
and when it drizzles wordless woe,
follow the train of thoughts,
taste this truth
~ the flavor of lament ~
as drifting despair rises as violet vapor,
returning in liquid constellations
condensed from collapsed dreams.
the sky forever homes
this silk of storm and hail ~
unclothed weather,
a panoramic vision
of suppressed tears made rain,
ebbing and flowing through
the deep oceanic swell of turbulent emotions…
But wherever you are, I no longer want to be:
for you are thunderstruck moonlight,
and I am a scarred sunset ~ a secret in saffron,
melting into the myth that floats forever,
within silenced dunes of scorpion stones,
where the cryptic coldness of sand feels like~
Cupid’s daggers piercing through
my aching skin and bones.
Frost-kissed vines wrap around
my wintry heart,
screaming for a sacred release
from the tethered torment
of satanic sapphires,
breathing within the haunted caves
of unending nightmares ~
and the twilight that wanes
behind flatlined promises.
Tonight, I feel like arrows of angst,
ricocheting within these woeful walls
of my melancholic mausoleum,
mirroring the heat of a burning breeze ~
like an epitaph lost in the sweltering air.
The clover of golden green glimmers,
like fireflies around my wrists,
luring distant ravens,
croaking above paralyzed dreams,
to untangle the crooked lines of lies,
crawling within clouds of comfort,
oblivious to Lilith’s serpent slithering
around my fragile feet in slow cadence,
pushing me to the darker dusks
drawn above the prying
valley of putrid prunes,
where these wistful musings
will remain as mere voiceless ashes,
cremated in vain,
with flames of forgotten folktales
echoing as faded music within a glass urn.
So, if tomorrow I’m gone, remember me ~
I still breathe silver snippets of hope,
a frozen quiescence,
etched in seven arcs of stardust,
longing to be anywhere but here.
Perhaps as the last verse of your poem,
or could I be the lone rose,
forever thriving in the galactic gardens of love,
where hate and greed, tangled in
jinxed jewels,
dissolve into nothingness ~
like rusted ribbons of the crestfallen lunar.
I hope lilacs and lavenders will bloom
in hypnotic hues, to calm raging rivers flowing
within the arctic arteries of a dark poet,
longing for a home
away from hellish hands,
so I can serenade songs of survival
and rhapsodies of resilience,
while watching every tear I’ve shed
crystallize into pearls and diamonds,
like born-again stars in violet skies.
Screams, Screeches, groans and wails
Let me tell you Agonies’ tales
And of bullets, bombs and pellet guns
For a person with Heart must know these pains
kids are blinded; men are jailed..
Women are molested; the old are tortured..
Lucky, You have a home and a steak to fry
Billions starve and sleep under the frigid Sky
Jungles of wars are scrambling Humanity
Sighs are ruling the throne of sweet Melodies
Deluges of Tears removing the rainbows of joy
Atrocities bewitching the innocent lives to get destroy
Yet you say this world is beautiful.. ?
That it is benign and bountiful...?
May be yeah… for you... as you are at peace!
Come out of your little Palace...
And you will see...
Sky painting itself red...!
Butterflies renouncing their dreams...
Birds with trimmed wings...
Blood ocean... barren trees... burnt houses...
Teared eyes... and shattered bodies….
Earth is ugly .... Eartians savage...
Earth is a cage...
Earth is but a jixed place....!!
5-22_22
Paghunda Zahid
Gamesomeness goads gawky, gingerly,
goofily graceful, grandiloquent gent, gallant,
genteel, geico, guppy gecko, gabbling gaffes,
gagging, gamboling, gestating, gesticulating,
garlic, gnashing, gobbling, gyrating,
gruesomely grinning, grappling, gnomadic
giggly, grubby, gastrointestinally grumpy
gewgaw gazing guy, geographically germane,
gungho, grave gremlin, grumbling, guiding,
guaranteeing, guerilla gripped gatling guns
ginning gumpshun.
Hello! Herewith halfway harmless hazmat,
haphazard haggard, hectored, hastily,
hurriedly, harriedly hammered, handsomely
hackneyed, heady, hellbent hillbilly, hirsute,
hidden hippie, huffy humanoid, hexed, heady,
Hellenistic, holistic, hermetic, hedonistic
heterosexual *****sapiens historical heirloom,
homeless, hopeful, holy, hee haw heretical hobo.
Indefatigable, iconographic, iconic, idealistic,
idyllic, inimitable, idiosyncratic, ineffable,
irreverently issuing idiotic, indifferent, inert,
ineffectual, ingeniously iniquitous, immaterial,
insignificant, indubitable, inexplicable, ignoble
itches, ineffectually illustriously illuminating
immovable infused ichthyosaurus implanted
inside igneous intrusions immensely
imperturbable improbable.
Pursuit for elusive prey
teases yours truly
into treacherous catacombs
dangerous mentally
challenging pitfalls,
sets small hairs of back
on camp creeks edge
of night, where dark shadows
evoke outer limits
of twilight zone
prompting me constantly questioning
purposefulness, qua hair raising pursuit
embarking these modern roman times
all for naught,
nonetheless I chide self
failing to heed
emotional, mental, psychological...fallout
in sum re: springing Jack in the box reflex
to sally forth and earn kudos,
asper potential Prince Valiant.
Thus situated with blank computer screen
capacious external Lenovo for myopia
(and incessant squiggly floaters to boat),
this literary glutton for punishment
feverishly fixates to plumb depths
measuring morin 10,000
leagues under the see
ming lee impossible mission
to ensnare nearly extinct
fluttering, lyfting, shutterflying...
smarts to outwit unsuspecting
beak henning quest
tendering, tasting uber victory
quivering crossbow
targeting yawping
zoological discovery - channeling
primed with taut fletched arrow
on high alert for stool pigeon
cautiously optimistic kickstarting
another futile attempt dagnabbit
experiencing prestige,
oh...and by the way...,
no animal harmed
regarding made for video poem
gamely capturing quarry scotched,
nor gruesome scene
synonymous quasi abattoir
representative bird den sum
bloodless coup deeming
endeavor par excellence.
Fingers madly scramble
to poach skittering idea
fry day most ideal
omelette ya know,
aye feel yolked to defeatism,
one after another faux
promising brainstorm egging
quickly flitting inaccessible
potential flash in frying pan
just as fast dashing
into bajillion pieces
shell shocked scrivener
scribbling lame as duck
goose laying golden egg...
dropping immediately out of sight,
maybe best resigning forlorn
inchoate never albumen,
albeit quite linguistic stretch for
(all be human success story)
prospects beyond reach
ova this wretch
New York Times
bestseller author jinxed
forever dooming yours truly
grinding poverty my ill fate.