Long Lame Poems
Long Lame Poems. Below are the most popular long Lame by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lame poems by poem length and keyword.
He stared at the pictures,
faces of the love searchers,
twenty first century wanted posters,
scanning their rewards,
nothing pecuniary ,
preliminary,
maybe,
move on.
“Shall I advertise myself,” he thought,
no one appears sold or bought,
given to the mass,
on a screen of glass,
the physical hidden,
abrogate madness in description,
we are all still strangers,
with keyboards,
watching screens.
Laptop lap dance dreaming,
muscles screaming,
from the primal theatre,
soul said rise,
clearing eyes,
bleary plasma vision clearing,
fresh air endearing,
left behind the digital desert,
went out to speak,
parched vocal chords starved,
thirsting for voice.
No dust on the keyboard,
he moved away in dead skin’s storm,
hunched and wild,
hair hung lank and ragged,
bedraggled wardrobe on blood and bone’s frame,
almost lame he walks,
to the shower stalks,
water staving off the slaughter,
the hot water,
a dream of cascading falls,
at his feet the last days drowned,
washed to the sewer,
where screen days live,
blending easily;
with battered shopping trolleys & ****.
He dressed slowly,
went to his front door,
where the mirror smiled,
I remember you,
you once passed by often,
don’t be a stranger,
I’d rather see you leaving,
twisted contradictions of a mirror’s perspective,
not because you’re ugly,
because you’re beautiful,
and you shouldn’t be here with only me,
he laughed and said goodbye,
fresh air and light,
a missing intoxication,
he drank deeply;
walking to bid the strangers hello...
©David Nickle Read2015
All Rights Reserved By The Author
i have no time for worries ,
for fear would hold my feet
and make me stiff and halt and lame.
but free i travel where my path is gold,
so all may see the road by which i came.
now i do have time for love and time for play
,yes all the time in the world is mine to use,
i also have time for work so i plan my day ,
for only these things alone do i choose .....
..... (that's why)
i try to live as gentle as i can.
and no matter what i stand a man.
i've taken what came , wheather good or ill.
and klinged to my faith and honor still.
so whenever failure should come to me .
i'll still work and hope for victory.
and i'll always live untaunted and unafraid,
,of any choices that i have made
,for
i'm without pretence or sham,
i'm exactly what you think i am.
this is all i beleive i need
for my philosophy in life to succeed
Reindeer herd - heard clattering
Rangifer tarandus kept
this deep sleeper awake
cavorting, deer ring
escapade haint fake
dreamt only a smattering while
Santa did shimmy and shake
with ho...ho...ho...
no worry mate - everything's jake
resonating resembling thus Spake
Zarathustra jollity did quake.
Yours truly (i.e, me)
awoke with rapture
forty hooves with
four "toes" on each foot
surreptitiously, soundlessly, and simply
did invisibly bore
I noiselessly swore
sizable wrapped holiday box
with duct tape to secure
merchandise found thee missus
(Abby) excitedly tore
painstakingly, neatly, and lovingly
my feeble protest she did ignore
(think lame gesticulations)
ah... lo and behold goodies galore
unable to deter impetuous more
or less analogous to child like roar
ring with giddy excitement
December twenty fifth,
could not await opening your
linkedin holiday deliverance
including Trader Joe's gift card
to "fake" Monseigneur
Matthew Scott with dogspeed
to wish thee (Andy, Ansley,
Marley - if by ghost of chance...)
plus other kith and kin) bonjour,
and joyful new year, whence two score
orbitz will find me
newly minted centenarian, argh... your
brother not yet ready to explore
afterlife, which grave kismet unavoidable,
courtesy grim reaper conquistador
though... even now no fear arises,
when permanent sleep shall nevermore
witness generalized (anticipatory)
anxiety cease to perdure,
which bouts of panic
running rampant near winded seen yore
citizen banker (me) disgruntled
as if possessed by maniacal führer
running me rampantly ragged das
exhausting emotional furor
takes (and/or took) toll, I deplore
and decry lifelong psychological struggle
germinating while in utero,
when my nonexistence
no bigger than a spore
biological vagaries manifestation
nine months before
set figurative deoxynucleic acid
blueprint stage permanently
etched to the core
every cell sporting mutation
begetting, coding, dunning ensure
ring subsequent generations
oft times pondering,
whence final breath of relief
will signal time to scatter ashes
buzzfeeding boughs of sycamore.
(this is a little form I cooked up last year and called it 7/5 trochee. I like to use it for fun little tales. Saw this dog the other day!)
Little dog nearby my house,
cone around his neck.
Guess if he could talk, he’d bark:
What the bleeping heck?
What’s the mutt supposed to do
if he wants a bone,
with his head so tiny stuck
deep inside that cone?
Do his doggy buddies laugh,
seeing him like that?
He can’t even catch a break.
Sure won’t catch a cat!
Next I see him trying to
poke his scraggly head,
not with great success at all,
in a flower bed.
I should tell his owner that
cones look pretty lame.
Let the poor thing stay inside;
Save his hide from shame!
Anyway, the sight of him
made me come right home -
after a good chuckle - to
write this silly poem!
I loved the way, you made me feel
But Needed you, more and more
It started out, as no big deal
Before I was keeping score
But now you’ve gained so much control
You keep my world in motion
Just short of selling you my soul
Alone, you keep me going
Things were tough, before you came
It hasn’t gotten better
Once again, Life feels lame
Only, now, we are together
The problem is, I can’t go back
You have fooled my body and brain
It angers you and you attack
I’m alone and no longer sane
Normal was never good
That’s why I turned to you
But you never really could
Do what you said you’d do
(07/01/11
God had a plan- so he made his son a man
He knew his son would have to be the sacrificial lamb
So that this world could understand.
JESUS offered his life so that the world could be free
He offered his life for you and me.
He knew that his life would be short lived
And come to an end.
Yet he preached his fathers words to foe and friend.
He knew deep inside his soul
That someday , the world he would hold
And of this -he was told.
So much love he had inside
And this love he could not hide.
As he preached the word of God
He described his earthly mission.
The lord had appointed him to preach
The gospel to the poor, the rich , the destitute
And anyone who would listen.
His father had told him that he had healing hands
And could heal people through out the land.
To be able to cure the blind, the lame, and the possessed
These were the biggest tests.
Then the day finally came that they would take him away
Accused by his so called peers, under the screams
Laughter and jeers.
Stripped and whipped and crowned with thorns
And blood running down his face
This was the ultimate disgrace
For a man who was said to be a king
That he was stripped of every thing.
Although the cross he carried was made of wood
It is something that is still not understood.
That we must all carry a cross in this life
This is our ultimate sacrifice.
I hate all things smiley and happy
Won't win you any fame
Stop-it's only trippy
And it comes across as lame
Don't come to me with your joy
It only peeks my suspicion
And it's starting to annoy
Completely, by admission
Soon you will see it my way
Happiness is making me sick
And it's completely ruining my day
I won't fall for your poison trick
I'm not having it today
I hate all things smiley and happy
Make your gleefulness go away
Because it's driving me crazy
Just let me be, be gone cheery face
Completely irritating is your cheer
Why are your smiling in the first place?
Take that happiness away from here
Love is
Label Labor Labyrinth
Lacking Lagging Lame Lamenting
Large Lasting Late Lazy Leading Learning
Letdown Lethal Less Lewd Liberating
Lie Life Limited Lingering Literal
Literal Lively Livid Logical
Lonely Long Lord Loss
Loyal Luck Lunacy
Luring Lust
Love is many differnt things to people!
The truth is at times, we are just too lazy to write.
Hence, we blame our Muses, a wrong, to be made, right!
Inspiration is everywhere, in your past, present and within
you on the chair.
Who knows what beauty we might pen, if we could just realize,it's in your brain matter, right under your hair.
Some faint after a simple verse written?
You must learn to have the heart of a lion, not a newborn kitten.
Excuses, I hear, and it's tedious and wearisome.
Drink coffee or tea, and use your brain as the rest of us.
You have to eat food and read, for your poetic soul.
Otherwise, there are just lame excuses with zero poetic goals.
Oh, you have no goals, you say??
Look deep into your soul, it's called, Inspiration Bay!
3/7/2021
~2~
Dear learned men and country folk,
Lend your ears to my talk.
Come to assist, not to perturb thy lives.
To reflect your wish, come in due course.
Never proclaim that I decide rulers
Humbly admit that you are my masters.
Realize that I am your franchise,
And it is only your right to exercise.
Be wise and learn how to assess
Otherwise, find yourself in an abyss.
Repentance didn’t help even Dr. Faustus
No sparing for your lame excuses.
Wait and think before you cast
Don’t tend to favors at any cost.
Or else, put up with till my next presence.
Be alert and act as per your conscience.
Contest: Brian's Select 4, any form, any theme
Judged on: 05/06/2020
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Placed : Honorable Mention