Long Knick Poems
Long Knick Poems. Below are the most popular long Knick by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Knick poems by poem length and keyword.
1/19/23
Getting through endeavors
Doing better
More focus on what is important instead of only pursuing pleasure
Even though ladies never give me the time of day
Like animals, I'm a stray
Just could not find my way
Deep down quite okay
I tell the truth, so it won't always be nice things I say
So much wrong in the world, no person should have been treated like a slave
Still today too many lives at stake
Jeopardizing people acting nice then snake
Regardless if they're asleep or wide awake
It's continuous occurring on since before the iron age
Is there any way to make the cycle change?
I have tried
24/7 at times
Took one step then hit landmines
Followed by a swarm of sand flies
I thought my heart had died
Because I flatlined
Now I just want love no bad vibes
It's what I always wanted, but I know that it's about damn time
If you let it too much toxic stuff can slide
I apologize if my mind is a bit hazy
Life get's crazy
I'm starting to like this lady
She thinks I'm similar to Slim Shady
Of our origin we still can't find a trace
Wake up we don't truly know if we evolved from primates
All these swines and fakes
These schmucks keep secrets and humans in a confined space
Had nothing to lose, then it turned high stakes
For too long was not in a nice place
Now got a better mind state
I still overdrink, and don't always hydrate
Like wild animals, I need to migrate
Much to achieve, so why wait?
Worldwide not just across five states
All this senseless violence and blind hate
I have improved
Back in the groove
Not the same old outlook and attitude
Working on making less bad moves
Despite being a lonely sad dude
I know that there is so much that I can do
And that that's true
A lot of bad luck
Instead of not giving a damn
In order to get through all the sad stuff
I had to become smarter work harder and man up
Making a splish splash
During the daylight or when it was pitch black
Often I'd give back
Having a profound impact
Occasionally I'll pop a tic-tac
Fiddle with knick-knacks
While at times in life it can get whack
Occasionally coming with whiplash
These clowns sweeter than a Kit-Kat
In a world full of endless chit-chat
Always over this and that
Despite speaking on it like it's a fact
lemme git down to figurative and virtual brass tacks
and risk introducing this veritable unknown citizen,
who feels Trump stacks
odds against supposedly “making America great again” -
vis a vis when pool sharks queue balls with top dollars on racks
displays absolute blatant commander in chief dearth,..and most often packs
near physical punch via pushing dynamic statecraft to the max
with horse betting odds, that future diplomatic sparring
will in short shrift avail his aggressive combative knick knacks
asses instances of his performance,
essentially, obviously, and unquestionably lacks
basic, democratic, futuristic foresight toward peace and harmony
thus (IN MY MIND), ratchets up local and global agitation,
demonization, gastro-intestinal jacks,
thus this brief communique from neither a constituent,
nor person of renown, but outlier who hacks
his way each day – awash with challenges
(though my location nowhere near the sea)
and myopic eyes of mine zeroing in on an unflattering
(yet on the money – averred to thee Bob Corker),
which comment this rump of a president
by blatantly, blithely, blindly axing bedrock of democracy he emotes
one already maneuvering weapons of mass destruction –
preparing for world war three
mostly arising from self created debacles,
or reverberations from in apropos responses,
now pointing fate of civilization on deadly path,
whose very defense of his own ego – oft a twittering outburst
generally creating Armstrong clustered flacks,
which aggressive stance finds Trump braggadocio
adversarial behavior cornering friends or foes backs
pushed hard against real of illusory wall
alarmingly binding coaxial wires detonating fuse to help ignite
a conflagration fomenting jackass kicking
analogous to O'Leary legend, whereat
setting combustible lantern within kicking range of a cow
sparked Chicago fire – no matter the truthfulness,
implications in my mind, HE DONALD TRUMP
HOLDS THE FATE OF MANKIND
(teetering mighty close to doomsday
on tipping point of two mixed metaphors)
AND AS A CONCERNED VOTER GIVE HIM THE BOOT!
This is the Simplest alibi of this timeless magnum Opus, that I am not the capital
This is a point of exclamation in me, that I am not the majestic warrior
eternal.
Only one hope is remaining there, and up she goes, in round and round
I will be there, with you, to the farthest, along a shore of life, predestined.
In a lonely lit-up night, an enchanted one, the midnight hymn came as mine
My beloved, your face had the bliss of a smile line, my chime.
In one unbearable moon-lit day, when the solar lamp dimmed low
I knocked at your door, there
Weaving some knick knack, words sounding pretty, I yearned for you.
My love, where art thou?
I’m the center. You are my encircled bohemian, the only eternal , staying there that remains!
I’m the empire in your submerging love, an entropy ruling in me, all that fall short in sense!
I’m the center. You are my encircled bohemian, the only eternal , staying there that remains!
I’m the empire in your submerging love, an entropy ruling in me, all that fall short in sense!
Love, an endless epic for poets, wandering swiftly through the reigning gypsy times.
For no good reason, a blister in a scorching hot sandy dune, then a sleepy oasis chimes.
I thought that I’m an exception there, a loner , far from the madding crowd.
Too cuddly a love, only a mannerism, words are often playing there, as it could.
Why are you that smile at me that rules me often on the full swing whim?
Why are you that sweet poem on a versed phone call, in words of a brim?
Today, you’re a enchained latitude in my gaze, too long a brushstroke in my palette
I am a helpless frozen teardrop there, brittled.
I’m the center. You are my encircled bohemian, the only eternal , staying there that remains!
I’m the empire in your submerging love, an entropy ruling in me, all that fall short in sense!
I reached the domain of stardom, from the Jupiter to the saturn
A nomadic I, traveler through your passion of love, in high, a mere elongation. Expression.
I’m the center. You are my encircled bohemian, the only eternal , staying there that remains!
I’m the empire in your submerging love, an entropy ruling in me, all that fall short in sense!
17 of 442
(bishwabinarabe bishwajon mohichhe)
The cosmos unison delighting cosmic a flight of a heartsong
The cosmos unison delighting cosmic a flight of a heartsong
O’er the land and the seas touching ashore, the horizon and greeneries of the forests, little one
Mundane pour awakened in a splendour of muse, an ode to divinity
Mundane plethora dancing in delight of serenity.
The new season greetings of spring, renewed joy, renewed festivity , (cite)
The yellow blossoming high, the yellowish tinge in dye, buzzing yellow among garden delight
Heard the murmur tapping the leaves , gathered up high
Chirping, among flowers in solitude , (nearby)
A gentle wind passes by , to be long in the deep blue lake of the tranquil midair
And the heartsong plays on and on, enchanting nature (to thrive)
The green and the drip. The strumming and the chirp, on a journey , very own, little by little
The riverbank and harbinger delight ashore, of words, knick knack a murmur
The passage to every corner stone, a song unsung,per new grain, new soak, new season.
The rainy season, season greetings of monsoon reign, renewed joy, renewed festivity (Cite)
The lightning in clouds and the thunderbolt with sounds so strong, sounds farther strong
The parable of a dancer dancing on the height of the apocalyptic ominous dancer delight.
The falls of nature, dancing with dancer cascades, falling in the fullest height. .
Lo and behold! The awakened menacing majestic solitude of the lonely palm tree, dancing with their slender array
Rousing a cacophony of calling the divine, on a morning bright!
And the breeze blowing in the dark night, a song to o carry through
The mayhem, the moonlit night struck on the darker side, a satire dancing down the horizon, on and on
The passage to every corner stone, a song unsung, per new grain, new soak, new season.
The autumn reign, season greetings of harvest among, renewed joy, renewed festivity (Cite)
Pristine, too pristine, much too pristine a lighthearted delight, garnishing too bright!
The world carass the welcome pathway of the Goddess Durga of the autumn to witness the season greeting, once again on site!
Samuel Woodruff was a very old man, who once drummed for the army;
That marched to his rhythmic music, along with all fifers, playing hearty.
That was a lifetime ago, in dawn days so pink, golden, and richly green;
Like petal strewn time moving backward, to the premiere, pivotal scene.
Samuel never stopped playing drums, like mulberry heartbeats of sunset,
And played them after his daily walks; like the love you will never forget.
His fast friend, Comet, followed him, through fields of fascination flowers;
As he made up ditties to match the beat, of the flaming, futuristic hours.
Of faithful family, Sam had none, but for his fond, faddish sister, Pauline;
Who felt every fandangle pulse of summer, like allure on the silver screen.
Sam lived in the house of memories, of past and present changing places;
Where often rolling thunder was noted, like apricot roses, in cream vases.
Starlight snuck in windows, on a street that never seemed to say goodbye;
As sophisticated moon adored supper music, of redbirds, next to ebon sky.
Neighbor children noticed Sam's ditties, and often trailed behind to listen,
To each verse of nostalgia, featuring him. They loved all the fun repetition!
'Mad dog skullcaps' were running amok, when black-eyed Susans, sparkled;
And bright daffodils recalled Narcissus, when magenta butterflies, startled.
'Cupid's dart' flowers were hitting the mark, working magic in love potions;
While chrysanthemums spread the 'truth,' in vivid colors, of every emotion.
Samuel was heading home, one weekend day, and a huge crowd followed;
Comprised of both children and adults, like pretty colors, sunset swallowed.
The people sang along and clapped with Sam, to the song so easy to learn,
As Sam played his drum to the march, elated with sweet memory's return!
Many years have gone since then, and though Samuel's no longer around,
Folks still march while singing his song; as violets spring from the ground.
'This old man, he played one,
He played knick-knack on my thumb,
With a knick-knack paddywhack,
Give the dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.'
A band donned... Around ring finger of left hand
Yes folks (meaning,
whomever espies these lines) alas and alack
I attest thy spouse located future heirloom -
while tentatively asleep in her bivouac
though far less likely,
(yet near more rewarding)
than finding bullet in gunnysack
and/or locating needle in haystack
constitutes the missus
(thru... worm my going with fluke...?)
She discovered logical whereabouts
concerning whaddya believe
simple 14 carat (ha - just kidding)
no custom made
tooled bejeweled purchased,
but symbol of marriage
originally acquired as prize
within box of crackerjack
and treated as goodluck
which find accompanied with
wife merrily drumming upon me buttucks
an old chestnut nursery rhyme named
knick knack paddy whack.
Emotional moment found
yours truly uttering yippee
while straddled upon rushing limb boughs
verbally punctuated courtesy warranty
said treasured ring kept guarded
by hand sum vigilant trustee
kissing me darling dumpling
as adequate reciprocity
suddenly husband experienced himself
as figurative payee
delivered out his
(mine) emotional melee
courtesy lucky find
more precious than fine spun gold.
Now bonafide marriage signifies
stronger invisible bond,
whereby Western Culture accepts
how wedding band doth correspond
unlikely once philandering quirky poet
will draw attraction, anyway
cuz insinuations he won't respond,
nor at this matrimonial juncture
(approximately two dozen plus years)
will one bard **** troubadour abscond.
How great if woebegone
misfortune could abate
such as obsessive compulsive
mailer daemons that create
psychological distress and chronic depression
whereby suicidal ideations will elevate
impossible mission to oust melancholy
against psyche doth grate,
though chatting (over telephone)
with eldest sister,
who lives within Woodbury, New Jersey
can figuratively illustrate
how solitary existence
encompassing isolated kalifate
only breeds despair within,
emotionally remote bailiwick
therein still stews
emotionally unbridled wordsmith
whose entire being does marinate.
Experienced a third bigger earthquake recently but this poem I wrote for a smaller earthquake years ago)
My first trivial tremor experience had been in Southern Africa
And now this puny earthquake I felt in Tanzania.
I saw every thing waltz to and fro and lightly shake
Bottles turned ballerinas dancing slightly to the quake
I watched glass decors on the walls quiver and jolt
Scaredy me was half asleep, no wonder didn't bolt
I thought I was dreaming or imagining things
My bed and chairs converted into gentle swings.
All vials and vases
jiggled to dance a jig
The lil horrors over
So I cast humor's wig
Ah when began rattling, the knick knacks on my dresser
Was when it dawned upon me in horror
That this was really an early dawn tremor.
I phoned some friends but those early risers
Hadn't even noticed or felt those tremors
I bet they thought I was spreading false rumours
After all poets are stereotyped as fanciful philosophers.
My cell phone keypad became my panic button in a flurry
Of course I wanted all to be alerted, alarmed in worry
Nobody believed me until it was announced in our mosque
And every body was then called by muezzin to pray the signs prayers
Then every body knew the tremor was no hoax
Some patted me for being the first to notice this shaking of earthly layers
Of course I thanked God this was no major earthquake
I've heard in other places how terribly the earth can crack and shake
Who else but God could I owe my heartfelt gratitude
For this being my 2nd low power tremor in magnitude
As it measured low on the Richter scale
based on the seismic waves' amplitude
But the earth was shaken and I too was shaken
No pics of the shivering axis were taken
Todate runs down my spine such a shiver
On recalling how the mother earth did quiver
I have seen videos of earthquakes where the earth juggles things
like a salt shaker
May God protect us from such a waker and breaker
Boys do boys BREAKS toys. Knick knack paddy wack. Give. A dog. A bone.
Some say the things that boys do are wrong and even more wrong still.
Pushing a go cart up a steep steep hill. Wrestling down steps and falling.
Breaking bones. Being home alone. Fire crackers one two three STOP spitting
On me.
REPEAT REPEAT REPEAT
Boys even when they're right they're wrong. Boys are strong. They are
Triumphant on mix martial arts and wrestling night. They need a place here in
SOCIETY. They need their own show and tell month. What week? What's a week?
Fighting through one trillion trillion jeers. Not wanting to show their fears.
THE MEDIA COMES THE QUICKER
Fearing vulnerability boys are nothing but the brunt of solid steel with DIAMOND
Spikes. Many boys are MELLOW but spell WE DO RAISE HELL. Some might
Think boys do things for SPITE. Such as staying alive? Or flying a kite?
Boys but when dark is night stay inside. At DIFFICULT times they fight even when
They're right thinking they are strong. MAYBE they are wrong?
Wrestling tearing fisting clenching cursing spitting stomping reaching for his own
Fate. Suffering alienation and hate. What he wants he gets one way. (Sparing no grace) or another. All in all in all. Some boys walk a CHALK line and are fine.
In the light of the life of things this is how it is. Boys are STRONG. They go long.
THE MEDIA THE CONDEMNATION THE VILIFICATION: Boys are bursting through malls tearing down walls shooting guns on the run.
Nothing but boys will be boys. Nothing is truth until it is seen through the eye of a boy
Keen. Gangs, tussles and physical rebuttals. There those tails wagging of puppy dogs,
Yeah boy! You got SWAGGER you got sway. Football gear and baseball cards yeah all
Hard. Make way for shooting hoops hanging on stoops
TRACES OF MANHOOD TO DATE. BEEN NEVER A MAN WHO HASN'T BEEN A BOY.
ENJOY!! GOOD FATE!!
If you ever espy a latitudinally
and longitudinally challenged
older yet shopping savvy woman,
(wedded to yours truly
for almost twenty six years),
who stands approximately
four feet and ten inches
a strong hunch that gal
stacks up as mine missus,
she dons costumed headwear
to avoid station identification,
whenever she steps out
into the public limelight
anywhere outside these four walls
of our one bedroom apartment
here within bucolic Schwenksville,
the town that town forgot,
and the decades could not improve,
where all the women good looking,
the men strong, and the children
wise to the ways of technology.
When this logophile
quite a few pounds lighter
ever since I first became acquainted
with unnamed aforementioned woman,
she adopted predilection to don apparel
allowing, enabling, and providing
modus operandi to present herself incognito.
Ofttimes said spouse of mine
upon returning from
grocery shopping spree
(ever price conscious of various
and sundry commestibles -
with a knick knack paddy whack
give this doggone husband
a plant based NON GMO bone),
she can rattle off the prices
of targeted items on her mental rolodex
how much food cost at:
ALDI, GIANT, LIDL, WEGMANS...
While scurrying to and fro
hither and yon,
a stranger might unexpectedly
pay a compliment to iterated getup,
which bobbin noggin makes her
easy to identify, when yours truly
tags along, (but despite
being considerably taller
by almost twelve inches),
these spindleshanks of one
sentient, ship shaped,
shanghaied, salubrious,
slithering, snakish, stuttering,
sluggish, smashface scarred,
sober, solitary, sangfroid
skidamarink singing, Shamokin
speaking scrivener, scuzzy,
spunky, starved, submissively
suicidal, sunburned, senseless
salaried shuffling senescent
snoutish soundcloud shutterflying
snapchatting schnorrer
find impossible mission
to keep pace with the wife.
12/06/2020 03:41 PM.
Imagine a long and winding line
all the way to Jabip
upon the handle of small grocery cart
envision mine white knuckle grip,
as the misses commandeers
moseying up and down every single aisle,
whereby an electrocardiogram
would indicate spiky sinusoidal blip.
I experience social anxiety
and feel like screaming aloud,
particularly when series
of unfortunate events
finds your truly
within onrushing madding crowd.
Unfortunately courtesy divine comedy
one erstwhile indiscriminately
cast out obsolete player
creator endowed him
with his trademark shaky spear.
One hapless generic garden variety guy
plagued with panic attacks
accursed lifetime providence
hellacious interminable suffering
until permanent escape
quasi vacation deliverance regarding...,
when grim reaper doth
cometh and taketh me away.
Oh savior enshroud impotent mortal man
at long last terminating suffering
welcoming me into portal
I willingly surrender
and welcome release...
beckoning death be not proud.
Impossible mission to describe
how fast paced life in general
generates utter confusion
analogous to floundering trout
besieges mine mental redoubt
mental helter skelter all about
as if mine entire body electric
forced, kickstarted, subjugated...
to perform (yes folks) hokey pokey
mental gears and cogs
snapping, crackling, popping
inside tumbler like noggin
purportedly linkedin hashtagged
with schizoid personality disorder.
Onset of emotional paralysis
stops me dead in my figurative track
metaphorically wishing me to skuttle
back into hermetically sealed manhole
invisible among interleaved bract
where within mine secret cubby hole
I play knick knack paddywhack...
to idle away leisure time
as well as solve crossword puzzles
meditate (on the gift of a watermelon pickle)
while listening to natural soundtrack,
and self hypnotize courtesy biofeedback.