Long Joie Poems
Long Joie Poems. Below are the most popular long Joie by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Joie poems by poem length and keyword.
Boot juiced abiding
by ruff dogma, with joie
de vivre, which oft times witnesses
me being a decoy
occasionally feigning
tubby an Anchorite, ahoy!
Life in the K9 corps
aint so ease zee
absolutely daunting, hence
lemme share with ye
haunting, and unnerving, the whee
kid nasty, short, and brutish
ways, and truth be told,
I would rather be outwardly
hidebound, gagged, and flagellated
(threatened tubby slowly
strangled to death by vee
numb muss snakes, me scree
ming bloody murder,
sans resembling
caduceus), or re
peat head lee bitten
(till death do me part)
by vampire bats pre
dominant lee inhabiting
spooky attic, nee
above cattle crying
abattoir, bovines me
ting grisly demise, cuz prowling
the murderous gang
infested mean streets -
of corpse lee
ving shot up desolation
(think skidrow) role much
more blood curdling, key
ping adrenaline heart pounding,
and sweat pouring directive he
ping helplessness 'specially,
when this gree
gear re: us macho foo fighter,
accompanied by my greatful
dead cutting crew - on free
key Friday the 13th
assigned directive to man
the most crime ridden, and be
dev filled violent bailiwick,
(donning head to toe
bullet proof suited vests),
nonetheless fraught with
horrendously extreme
difficulty, and more
challenging, end
during, and grueling
than surviving training
undertaking associated
with elite military clique,
and attendant rightfully
earned linkedin prestige
joining: Raiders of United
States Marine Corp,
Green Berets United States Army
Special Forces, or Navy Seals.
"Calamus gladio fortior"
O noble scribe hand me your quill
I will sharpen it for you with my wit and brill’
For in truth it is your real sword grows large and mighty with every word
Joust not with me surround yourself with my noble stalwart gallantry
Thee will find dark and light joie de vivre
between the weeds and daisies armour comes off freely
En garde walk the Road with courage and dignity
For we will inspire revolutionary legions together
On our march to
"VICTORY"
(Lovejoy-Burton/Feb 2018)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dAv4bHtobP0
The sound of laughter
From the belly
Grandpa's stomach
Wobbling like jelly
Baby clapping hands with glee
A very joyous sight to see.
Everybody's worries vanish,
Frowning faces
Today are banished
Family woes are left unspoken
Promises made
Will not be broken
Concerns left outside the door,
They will remain there for awhile
Nobody is welcome
If they don't bring in a smile
There is refreshment
And delicious food to eat
Beer and spirits for the men
A very welcome treat,
The children are happy,
Playing with their toys,
And a cheeky chappy
He was amusing the older boys.
The girls sat together,
Chatting away.
They made a vow, forever,
Friends, they would stay.
People passing by
Stood still for awhile
Listening to the laughter
That made them all smile.
It is not always possible,
To feel this joie de vivre
So graciously give thanks
For times like these
That brings comfort and relief.
(fear not stalwart reader, the sword of Damocles just grazed thy chest when fate found us a place to call home).
to avoid the pitfall of prospective homelessness
which near future prospect
induces existential angst i confess.
Today i.e. about two years ago (end of rope rhyme rote
approximately deux orbitz round the sun),
i wanted ta die and bid god riddance grandly
going gamesomely gra grave,
de deum, and cymbal crash
to Bing mulct emotionally, physically and spiritually -
all the grinding hardships would be gone in a flash
how tempting to seek ot a solution sans hemlock
or other deadly potion,
whereby toothless mouth need not gnash
boot simply swallow and drink from the goblet of
mortal freedoms renting psych ass under
with purposelessness mine hash
tag, which bout with suicide
while n the edge of thirteen -
Anorexia nervosa defeated -
then as now experience
10,000 banshee maniacs whip lash
lacerating, flagellating,
and repeatedly rousing thoughts
shin to circle back to why death be not proud
when life on par with a mash
up of ennui, futile gobbledygook housing incubus
analogous luft waffe bombardiers quash
the joie de vivre per je ne sais quois spritely spring
in step happy jollity,
and levity attempt to make light
of psychological me's mental illness rash
whence thru the (then) lvii roam min years
as chief garbage taster of trash
hurled my way gnome matter
the gremlins dwelt within the Wabash
distance to inflict din er of dissonance
targeted this mortal for'er abash
as soon as he got expelled
from the womb, his reddened ears did bash
from sonic screaming boom causing astir the nurses
into the maternity ward
of me late mum sped like dash
her, and fast as a comet Prancer doth emulate
a con vixen dancer, cuz ova this rude half
re: that came a boot
from genetic chromosomal dna wash.
Perdition Be Damned!
Body electric zapped
lower gastrointestinal tract
wracked with wretchedness
pitted, rocked, and tortured
severe muscle spasms cramp
deathly hallowed deliverance
beseech divine creator to exorcise relief
any panacea trumpeted vetoed
pestilential nausea diarrhea
wreaks relentless havoc
horrid ordeal twists insides
lack strength to live
breathing a laborious effort
bedrest temporarily alleviates
generally healthy ironclad junket
weatherbeaten rickety ship of state
restorative sought trouncing unwell
corporeal self against torture
assailing, castrating,
and drubbing existence
avocations ordinarily promulgating
resplendent joie de vivre
squelched, scotched, and sabotaged,
courtesy minuscule mailer daemons
emotions unlikely culprit,
though times gone by anxiety
tindered, pitched, and kindled
abominable irritable bowel syndrome
prescription medication tempered
badgering, crippling, and debilitating
panic attacks plagued this primate
manifesting feeble endeavor
to experience poignant satiation,
asper simple pleasures nonexotic
endeavors merely passively living
as one organic carbon based
human being finding fulfillment
meditating, reading, and writing,
now fleeced, deprived, and blitzed
suspicious disagreeable provender
perhaps lactose intolerance
after enjoying pizza birthday
fours days prior
celebrating chronological centenary,
sans one frail resident here,
Highland Manor Apartments
suddenly, I feel chill o' rigor mortis!
He was sitting alone in the corner
In a little cafe at the painting of Monet
And was talking to imaginary friend
About thinness opaqueness fear
Sensation of heat cold anger despair
Cruelty he claimed is the language of reality
Not the barren lame poetry with vulgar
Metaphors hiding behind empty words
Cruelty was the only honest way
To open the hidden heavy doors
Into suffering human soul and heart
And talk about things that matter
Through shamanic art of reaching
Deep into the guts of true teaching
And bringing light to the dark corners
That have never been lit before
Actors dancing in overpowering way
Manikins with terrifying theatrical faces
With empty eyes staring at the audience
And drilling through their souls
Objects of strange proportions
Surfacing in a dreamy scenery
Of unrecognizable ghostly world
Of the modern stage transformed
By the means of the theater of cruelty
It is the only way to be honest
To himself Artaud claimed
And believed
He was right
He sacrificed his life
To this idea
And died lonely forgotten
On the bare floor
Next to metal bed
That stood at the door
He tried to open so hard
In a madhouse
Where magic of theater
Truly belongs
(okay, yukon axe me whatsapp pinning,
though beep pre spired, cuz mess sigh key
threads experience didst rub burr raw
as if spun as a micro spindle.)
Woolworth (Penneys on
the Dollar Store) Sears electronic,
dynamic and atomic weight
cumulative decades of suppressed
crackle, snap,
and pop, triggering
psychotic sans tete a tete
legal tender visa vis
bit coin block
chain payback daily
quotidian fits and starts
trigger torrential spate
impinging ability to relish potential
existential joie de vivre
finding me (I rate)
analogous to suffocating
unbearable pressure, yours truly
doth eek quate
to Metallica Mega-death
accessing, hammering, and pinpointing
(excel lent lee powerfully)
every square inch
of mine pate
strewing, sparking fiery
fingerhut sized explosions,
and slamming incessant
psychological torture akin to
a pernicious hidebound mate
and as of this date
November 20th two thousand eight
scored entrenched occupation
of my fifty plus
shades of gray matter
becoming more agonizing of late,
where suicidal ideation,
where repressed self hate
sprung from cumulative
(albeit cloudy with
a chance of at least one
meatball i.e. me) psyche subject
to verbal whipping (yours truly),
the gloating mean
bullies didst denigrate,
without doubt half life of
Matthew Scott Harris
aint at all great,
yet to some degree, this saturated
scorpion poisoned, mauled
and jackknifed fate
in some measure
duet hoo war ton internalized
emotions griffins
hound, feast, and delight
(more so ravenously
throve) on Hawaii,
and seamy to Maui
didst successfully, (particularly
throughout earlier decades)
emasculate, under estimate,
now (in retrospect) execrate
at invisible monster
on par with beastie boy
Doctor Frankenstein didst create
only upon death doom
he part wretchedness
will hoop fully abate.
O why’d they misconstrue your colour against you?
When the song is swift imagination, so sweet and full
Why’d they whisper of weariness, of idiomatic blue?
When pause is ponderous play not a dark silent lull
It is the bluebird’s song that warm thoughts entice
That unexpected exuberant bout of welcomed joie de vivre
That instant intoxication of all virtue and all vice
Oft’ heard from coffee’d morn till the day’s end receive’
When beguiled by melody left to lilt through wistful air
That beacon of curiosity which so quickly is consume’
Cheery embrace – the listener enraptured is divided ne’er
Till the final bar closes only then may the day resume
Though for tunes of waking night the bluebird composes nigh
Alas, her song is for bright day not for moon’s sleepless sigh
In solitude you control
what you do when,
for how long, and why.
You have time-out for contemplation
to muse on, reflect on, and deeply ponder on
what is happening in your own life, in isolation.
Solitude is you alone, but its not lonely,
if you are your own best friend,
if you have too much to do to miss company,
if you know you need time away to stroll and amble,
to rebuild, re-energise and revitalise
your joie de vivre.
Solitude re-jigs, re-boots, unwinds and de-stresses.
It improves concentration, refreshes.
It boosts productivity and restores control again.
It is selfish, for self, by self for self benefit.
Solitude fosters and fertilises creativity,
allowing it to germinate, sprout and grow.
It is peaceful, and allows peace to be found in quietude.
Taking solitude in, imbibing it,
savouring its morsels, sips and crumbs,
is a soul revelling in solitary confinement.
I am a poet
I sprinkle hearts
With verses, flowers
Rhymes and kisses
In front of this mute
Beauty
Which moves away
And that I ogle
Oh! Woman
Madam
God has opened up the Heaven
To meet and greet us
Two chalices of honey
Are near the oasis
You and I are going for a swim
In the middle of summer
And afterwards, on the beautiful pavement
We will go for a walk
What an evening of beauty
Of love, of peace
Of joy and gaiety
In front of the bay!
Copyright © October 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of numerous collections of poetry.
Je Suis Un Poète
Je suis un poète
J’arrose les cœurs
De vers, de fleurs
De rimes et de baisers
En face de cette beauté
Muette
Qui s’éloigne
Et que je lorgne
Oh ! Femme
Madame
Dieu a ouvert le ciel
Pour nous recevoir
Deux calices de miel
Sont près du réservoir
Toi et moi nous allons baigner
En pleine saison de l’été
Et après, sur le beau pavé
Nous irons nous promener
Quelle soirée de beauté
D’amour, de paix
De joie et de gaîté
En face de la baie !
Copyright © Octobre 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l’auteur de nombreux recueils de poésie.
Soy Un Poeta
Soy un poeta
Salpico corazones
De versos, de flores
De rimas y de besos
Frente a esta muda
Belleza
Que se aleja
Y que yo miro con los ojos
¡Oh! Mujer
Señora
Dios ha abierto el cielo
Para encontrarnos y saludarnos
Dos cálices de miel
Están cerca del oasis
Tú y yo vamos a nadar
En pleno verano
Y después, sobre la hermosa acera
Daremos un paseo
iQué tarde de belleza
De amor, de paz
De alegría y de júbilo
Frente a la bahía!
Copyright © Octubre 2024, Hébert Logerie, Todos los derechos reservados.
Hébert Logerie es autor de numerosos poemarios.