Long Lacklustre Poems
Long Lacklustre Poems. Below are the most popular long Lacklustre by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lacklustre poems by poem length and keyword.
With the classy curved beak
You nudge your mate's cheek
And you both give a romantic look
Oh! That's my favourite click
Those slender zig-zag legs float
on water like the beautiful boat
And amidst that seren lake
emerges my angel to ruin my ache
White gown, the normal angels don
On you, the pink and red hues drawn
Such a special archangel you are
And so shining like a pink star
Lacklustre lake it was; neglected
Until your graceful advent
You dipped the dull monochrome frame
in reddish hues, the place now, a fame
Oh my dear Flamingo
Your colors, flaming! Oh!
My pain you take and go
Oh my dear Flamingo
Dedicated to my dream bird Flamingo.Yearning to see it atleast once in my lifetime...
I’ll never forget what’s her name;
That teacher who bored us to tears
Whose voice seemed to drone on and on
And lessons appeared to last years.
Her minuscule lacklustre eyes
Peered over a spectacled nose
No glimmer of passion in sight
No colourful facts to expose.
She reeled off the kings and the queens
The plight of Marie Antoinette,
Victorians, Tudors and wars
And all with a face firmly set.
I’ll never forget what’s her name
Oh how I was left uninspired.
It’s rumoured her smile first appeared
The day when at last she retired.
16.09.19
'I'll never forget what's her name contest' : sponsored by John Lawless
The town which oozed the plain and lacklustre held them in a judo grip but by the same token itself seemed to become slyly going into step by step morph contraction.
“Donkeys are symbolic to a vast extent.
They exude such, indeed much ken.
Are they guffawing at us?
But just as you and I had our first encounter as children when on a short trip with our parents.
It was one of the few forms of entertainment available in this mystery shroud of a spot.
Where disposable income might be too easily disposed of.”
Both Nigella and Nigel found that ever since they met whilst nourishing the donkey, this donkey, its Mise en scene, its portentous presence had this uncanny knack of pursuit of both of them.
The strangest coincidences.
Idioms, expressions, the way people interacted, the synonyms for donkey in this town created a situation where the word donkey and a donkey’s environs, and other creatures in the habitat had this hypnotising invisible secretive yet insidious skulk.
“Have you even sensed, Nigella,a disconcerting shift and shunt this isolated district, the size, there has been a slow exit to boot. On boot.
Does it have its own booty?
We both smirk at that one.
Even as we interact there is this intended or unintended prank simmering….somewhere.
As if we might be shoehorned into a loosely scheduled drama.”
Nigel and nigella often mused and bandied about words asinine and their variants.
But devoid of concrete proposal or narrative life pulse in this strangeville of a town that was now a drift sand physically and in terms of folks who no longer existed resembled an abstruse puzzle when it shouldn't
Whence misty eye's are in the
shortest of supply on tepid day's
Pop the cork on that vintage
finest magnum brut champagne
you we're saving for a special
occasion
And raise a toast to everyone and
everything you are going to miss
Every girl you wished you had
kissed and opportunity that
went aria for fear to tread
And put to bed all solom regret
Because the time has come
for one and all
To call upon said ticking clock
at hour half past six
And replace the carpets shed and
so threadbare
And stained roses that are but
petal buds laden with despairing
apparition
On mantle such lacklustre ornaments
denoting spring is out of season
That no one but the clouds abide to
For when the funeral carriage
horse's return to hey laden stables
And their blinkered eye's once
covered up are opened wide
Do not a tide of leaves wish to
leave in their wake
For fear they know and understand
the purpose of their daily commuting
of their charges
Followed by the weeping mourners
dressed in blackened amplitude
Know they are but one small step behind
And more poignant also now one step
closer also
To seeing their cherished loved
one's once again
So lest us not come to recall
upon this day with dread and
sorrow
But rather as our parting shot
across the bow of earthly death
and tears
Safe and comfortable in the
knowledge
This is the beginning not the end
Bulky ute voyeur selects sleek sporty stalion
Driving by, supersedes her oversized sedan
Wide wheel arches have Porche comparison
Voracious engine's enthuse easily enchants
Large car cast dispelled by lacklustre Calais
Original conjur 370Z parked beside boring
Low leg swing exclusive slide in, magic valet
Over revved start stabs adrenalin assuring
Our dear Dara, choice contacted in December
Available last minute to test drive his beast
Black gloss road boss, enlarged 'lungs' terror
Capable crazy bitumen baby, tester pleased
Ultimate Man concurs, the amenable outcome
Keys in her hand a few days after, aura froze
Couldn't imagine huge generosity from anyone
Racing car reap, increase on what she sows
Merry go round roads, another showoff slotted
Silver pole stabilised glides in Surfers cycle
Crosslane carousel onlookers, briefly besotted
By hot hoof nimble Nissan race horse style
28th March
Too Great of a Man
Forget-Me-Nots
Across the field, I trampled a path
When I held back and marveled to see,
Near the babbling brook beneath the trees,
A sea of blue of scorpion grass:
Tiny blooms asway in waves of glee,
Of forget-me-nots, and thirsty bees.
From end to end, as far as I could see,
In the serene lea, they spread their petals,
Exhibiting beautiful visuals
On the gentle slope, swaying in the breeze.
I looked back at the path and then ahead,
Enthralled as to where destiny had led.
The sun shone down with warmth unsurpassed
As the wind blew over cool, fresh air.
They fluttered about extraordinaire
Expressing their amour unabashed.
I was enamoured by their charisma
Under the sky of terra firma.
And when I’m dismayed to see storm clouds brew
And lacklustre negative thoughts prevail,
I reminisce their presence in the meadow,
Of powder blue amongst a greenery view.
Then, my eyelids succumb, and I envision
Fields of forget-me-nots abloom in heaven.
***
Note:
The Myosotis (meaning mouse’s ear due to the resemblance of the shape of their leaves), aka forget-me-not flower, is also known as scorpion grass because of its spiralling stem leading to its flower head, which looks like a scorpion tail.
Forget-me-nots are biennial plants (i.e., they have a life span of two years) that emit no scent. They bloom from May to October and are associated with the birth month of September, along with the aster and morning glory. Forget-me-nots symbolize love, respect, and remembrance.
My muse is on fire, she burns at the stake
guilty of poetasting, and glaring mistakes
Inferior rhymes with old Monoku outtakes
blaze all around her, as embers are raked
Badly blistered syllables, spark and flake
Whilst lacklustre stories, continually bake
A bard fans the flames, but he too’s a fake
for mincing his own words, with juicy steak
Making ado about nothing, soliloquy spake
Glory to the Efilist god, ha! give me a break
A dedication of respect
for rendering down a bard
# # #
However unpalatable
and repugnant the suet tastes
# # #
From March madness to April fool’s
digesting copious amounts of insipid tofu
# # #
Only to wipe it off
in an all encompassing
persistent vegetative state
By
David Kavanagh IV
Dewdrops stream down boisterous
children’s freckle-strewn mischievous dials,
as they dash in cartoon costume faux denim
apparel amidst the pale yellow sunlight glare.
Marble stone button twiddle on a blue
rinse wrinkle t-shirt,
Sumptuous ice cream raspberry blobs
tantalise the cheeky taste bud imps
whose chocolate brown eyes swell with
every morsel glutinously gorged on.
Doting parents wantonly indulge
their dawn glow
offspring’s shrieks of antic wonderment,
the honeysuckle fragrance that
releases germ-stuffed
nostrils a portentous spring nectar booster
shot for folk and kin alike,
effervescent yodel from young sibling and the
young at heart zeal of golden realm guardians
elevated to this neon sign paradise,
purple sleeve lacquer layer hydrant, surreal spirit saviour
of parched embryonic throats.
Picklock to that universal perfume
cloud that hovers
over asphalt stain urn and
stoic mint green
pristine luscious lawn,
playground for the butterfly wing vernal innocent shrouded by an orange peel citric soft fruit haze.
Age span infant euphoric zoom on fountain spume,
where families in a Ferris wheel hubub rejuvenate the
lacklustre greyness of their far too often
monochrome existence.
Posted ; 4th May 2022
Life is grim,
perpetually dim,
Don’t know what’s missing,
It belongs within,
Everything I eat,
tastes the same,
Drinking no better,
insipid and plain,
Can’t be bothered,
to answer the door,
Lost all interest,
in peace and gore,
Walking upstairs,
Brings me down,
Climb even higher,
I’m still underground,
At my best,
reach mediocre,
When worse wishing,
life was over,
Walking in quicksand,
up to my waist,
Encrusted with faeces,
Completely encased,
How come the sun,
won’t shine any more,
perhaps it does,
oblivious I ignore,
Future is tomorrow,
Black with decay,
My past the same,
Lacklustre yesterday,
Happiness a joke,
does it exist at all,
Must be an illusion,
from when I was small,
Try to hit lotto,
down on my luck,
What I deserve,
with this outlook,
My hero Cobain! swore,
“I don’t have a gun”
Best lyric ever,
considering what he done,
Push nails in my eyes,
helps numb the pain,
Stand naked in thunder,
Soaking up shame,
Life morphs one sleep,
into the next,
When I wake up,
a world of utter detest,
Is this a rhyme,
or even a poem,
No your right!
Crawl back under my stone,
What can one do,
when despairs all you’ve got,
Look forward to death,
I do quite a lot,
At least It’s a new year
just piss off away,
Sorry! what you expect! “Hip Hip Hooray.”
COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE(41)
any theme any form Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand 16/01/2021
Sipping her tea without any visible relish,
Her crumpled bag of shopping at her tired feet,
Alone she sits in the cafe and isolatedly apart
Stranded in her sorrowful sea of sadness
Only to raise momentarily her sightless eyes
At the sound of the peripheral trivial vivacity
Portending the levity of another tomorrow
Before relapsing into her inward gaze
To consider not the future but endless eternity.
That picture echoed in her hollowed out cheeks
Her funereal clothes, lacklustre look and lifeless lethargy
Spelling out a life no longer enjoyable
More of a sentence to be endured.
She drags herself out of her chair
Gathering her belongings together
For her unsteady exit
To enter upon the remaining days
Of her final moribund pilgrimage