Long Leaper Poems
Long Leaper Poems. Below are the most popular long Leaper by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Leaper poems by poem length and keyword.
oft times ('specially
these latter un-sainted days and nights)
death doth haunt me zeitgeist
which thoughts of my demise
crowds out purposeful thinking
in the twitching mind kempf
paradigm of this atheist
hence, he betook himself
to this MacBook Pro,
while swiss side dull ideations
for professional intercession, could not wait
asper affecting s cathartic,
emetic, harmonic tete a tete
and providing a meaningful surrogate
to expunge morbid mental state
accessed Open Office
and let fingers (of left hand) do talking heads
to an imaginary therapist
across this qwerty keyboard
allowing, enabling, and
at the quickest typing rate
striving to cap cha dismal, gloomy,
and ill lust tree us deplorable mood aye e quate
with pitching into a bottomless abyss where pate
fed ceaseless diet of NON GMO –
a last repast the grim reaper did orchestrate
gluten free, an extra heavy dose
of monosodium gluti Nate
which ingredient doth BuzzFeed thine appetite
for total mortal exter minate
'thou no need fermi to rush,
where angels fear to tread, cuz but better late
than never, the apothegm, credo, ethos...Kate
(the caterer maintains an open exit from life,
and cares only that each soul doth feel elan,
joi de vivre, and psalm times
a leaper chants, ecstatically finally
gustatory humming dont jubilate
for your final homecoming, or else
the mailer daemon lived
a devilish life will instigate
a de coup age d'etat, but such extreme
measure for measure heed doth hate
yet exceptions always made for a date
particularly when henchmen to die for
golden opportunity
to snatch a generic guy a create
an underground soiree will cease,
when ashes master
of hell raising circumstances twill use as bait
let underground missionary be my advocate.
Form:
Were every breath an incantation,
Every word a prophecy,
Would I fear more this consternation,
Not writing for anxiety?
Were every word a portent, telling,
Every sentence writ, a spell,
Would my mind ever stop this yelling?
Could I my consternation quell?
Such large words to write and scrabble,
Though loquacious I am not.
Cease you, brain! this psychobabble,
My brain thinks an awful lot.
Would I fear to speak a sentence,
Would I fear to write a page
Were every word scrawled so portentous,
Trapping me in my own cage?
Is the poet bound by scripture,
Living by the fate he writes?
No! I’ll open up a fissure,
Jump the gap! I have to fight!
I am not the fates’ keeper,
But I choose for my own heart
That o’er these gaps I’ll be a leaper,
And on life’s stage I’ll play my part.
Were every breath an incantation,
Magic within every word,
Would I fear the divination
When I, my written words, had heard?
Were every word so filled with might
That with each word my power grew,
Would I, then, still fear to write
Lest every single word come true?
Pathetic Acts
Stop all the traffic; a million ants are passing by.
Red light, Amber light, waiting on a Green light.
All the windows have their curtains closed inside,
And nobody knows how to feel secure beneath the night sky.
Do a hand-stand, against the man,
So he can hear from the bottom of your soul,
As it refuses to accept his master plan.
Tell him it is time for you to go.
Become a light inside the storm.
Become guidance to those who are torn,
Between loving life and complete apathy.
Falling from the top of a tree.
I am not the leaper that I used to be,
But still here I stand speaking in symmetry.
(C)2020 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
the waiter waits for what the eater repeated owes
weeder and seeder share one dish of blackcrow
bleeder feeds the pleater ancient historicity owed
debater fingers slayer through triptych meter foretold
delayer is the later is the leader
leader lagging leads what later already delayed
heater heats hot water for pessimistic bleater
feeder and the breeder share one tether eater
deletor utters what the reader couldn't shouldn't read
teacher unteaches creature its feature
teaser tases the taser tallowing the blind build
pleader prostrates before the greater hater
slater covers what rater refused believed achieved
render the neater a pasteurized fleeter from the feeder
the teeter is the tether
greeter is the greater
leaper breeds a crater
nature uncreates what creature features
break breaks the breaker breaking broke
killer is a living giving beater
seder sets the table for the bleater
x-ray sees breeder flayed through knot whole
meteor deletes what is the longest tiny universe
millimeter feet inches nothing measures unmeasurable
measure unmeasures the measured measuring
nothing inches nothing toward nothing's infinite Nothing
seer teases waker waking what was dreading dread
dread dreams the dreamed into undreamed un-being
cheater your emotional beater crawls you fastest dead
slayer and the greeter share one scarface tater
later is the delayer tripped into uncreated crater
discourse already dispossessed buffets the maker unmade by making
utterance utterless utters the unutterable
utterance utters itself into un-utterance
the mediator utters
greater grater grader enters the uncraterless recursion
recursion recurses into non-recursion
the poem unmakes its own ending ending
utterance ceases utterering
Painted Horses Leaping
Painted horses leaping, faster and faster
I hold on tightly as my tangled hair is flying
a sweet carnival memory of a childhood summer!
And of painted horses leaping!
The amusement park is twirling and whirling
of this horse ... I alone, am the master
father is holding me to keep me from falling!
Oh, my dappled horse is quite a leaper!
The Merry Go Round is now gently slowing
quiet now are the painted horses leaping!
____________________________
March 25, 2023
Poetry/Rhyme/Painted Horses
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1533-872-25
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Submitted to the Premiere contest, Strand No 1023
Sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 03/27/2023
Fourth Place
Of thee virtual netherland...
courtesy one spellbound wordsmith
within apartment b44
nestled within a manor
(and manner of writing)
atop nondescript Schwenksville highland.
All gibbets zing aside
I got noose for you,
yours truly enjoys harmless chide
ding even kibitizing about,
when cessation of consciousness occurs
leaving terrestrial plane
frequently incorporates divine spirit as guide
absolute zero escape
regarding death to override.
Oft times ('specially
these latter unsainted days and nights)
death doth haunt me atheistic zeitgeist
which thoughts of my demise
crowds out purposeful thinking
in the twitching mind kempf
paradigm of this atheist
hence, he betook himself
to this MacBook Pro,
while swiss side dull ideations
for professional intercession,
deadline could not wait
asper affecting s cathartic,
emetic, harmonic tete a tete
and providing a meaningful surrogate
to expunge morbid mental state
accessed Open Office
and let fingers (of left hand)
do talking heads
to an imaginary therapist
across this qwerty keyboard
allowing, enabling, and
at the quickest typing rate
striving to cap cha dismal, gloomy,
and ill lust tree us deplorable
mood aye equate
with pitching into
a bottomless abyss where pate
fed ceaseless diet of NON GMO –
a last repast
the grim reaper did orchestrate
gluten free, an extra heavy dose
of monosodium glutamate
which ingredient doth
BuzzFeed thine appetite
for total mortal exterminate
'thou no need fermi to rush,
where angels fear to tread,
cuz tis better late
than never, the apothegm,
credo, ethos...foreign ha Kate
the caterer maintains
an open exit from life,
and cares only
that each soul doth feel elan,
joie de vivre, and psalm times
a leaper chants, ecstatically finally
gustatory humming don't jubilate
for your final homecoming, or else
the mailer daemon lived
a devilish life will instigate
a de coup age d'etat,
but such extreme
measure for measure heed doth hate,
yet exceptions always made for a date
particularly when henchmen to die for
golden opportunity
to snatch a generic guy a create
an underground soiree will cease,
when ashes master
of hell raising circumstances
twill use as bait
let underground missionary be advocate.
A lab mouse grumbles:
“I’m so frustrated! I don’t know why
I have to be confined in this narrow path with high walls on both sides. I’m forced to lick food scraps I find on the pathway to sustain this miserable life,”
at that moment, when the mouse turned his back after failing to find
a way out of the dead-end, an ominous shadow, dressed in a hooded black robe similar to the Grim Leaper, blocked the way.
In the maze no way out, the time feebly mumbling itself
stood aside staring at the mouse always hungry from malnutrition,
and that’s why unable to recall when he was fed; yesterday or today?
A smell of death creeps into the maze where you can only crawl
to move around, no way extended to or from yesterday or tomorrow. Since
the past in the fog is hazy, the future in the fog is hazy, and present in the fog
is hazy, time does not move.
If you are unable to acknowledge yourself, you are not the conscious “I” anymore. The “I” only breathes and moves by instinct no different than an android who moves around without feeling; it doesn’t have the vital warmth of a living being
but reacts only to a programmed sensory mechanism, as such, it’s unable to take responsibility or responsible for its own actions,
that’s why the android doesn’t know the meaning of tears
that are clearer then morning dew or the bitterness of life you have
to swallow with great despondency; that’s why the android doesn’t know where the warm breeze comes from with the flowers in paradise, or why the leaves fall when the roaring wind blows through the field of downfall.
A big hand descending from above grabs the mouse
which is neither living body nor robotic mechanism anymore,
and injects the solution of death; the mouse shook his limbs, agonizing, vomits pieces of torn lungs out from his bleeding mouth, then, alas, becomes lifeless.
They called him Jumper
He preferred Prancer
When he was happy he would prance
Giant circles of joy
And the dizziness
Too many beers and staggers
For 365 days waiting times 4
He would dress himself outlandishly
Feathers and painting his face
He loved the Mamba and espresso
Dancing to the beat and the heat
But February 29th he could leap and pride
Gyrating crazily leaping from space to space
Time warp again
Disco fever
Never tiring
It only happens once every 4 years
Leap frog when he was a child
Monty Python taught him how to leap from tree to tree
He did the Lumberjack
His jeans had done the Hop on Bandstand
He had bell bottom genes
While in South America he did the Anaconda
Bunny Hop with children as he walked
Loved the song Fandango
While hunting his horse taught him the Foxtrot
Auntie Mame be proud
His favorite was Leaping
Once every 4 years
Just bored so I typed nonsense
Extra day of the calendar
Breaks during the leap year;
Three hundred sixty-five dawns
Let additional morn appear.
A man or a person born
On the twenty-ninth of February
Is called a leaper or a leapling
Whose birthday is intercalary.
When non-leap years come,
Some leaplings do celebrate
On either the first of March
Or February twenty-eighth.
February twenty-ninth is a date
That occurs in four-year pace;
For the Earth does not orbit in precisely
Three hundred sixty-five days.
In the year two thousand twenty,
Whether the sky is blue or gray;
And if the world will still exist,
There'll be another extra day.
Painted horses leaping, faster and faster,
I hold on tightly as my tangled hair is flying;
a sweet carnival memory of a childhood summer.
Painted horses leaping!
The amusement park is twirling and whirling,
of this horse, I alone, am the master;
father is holding me, to keep me from falling.
My dappled horse is quite a leaper!
The Merry Go Round is now gently slowing,
and I kiss my painted horse on his head;
"Can I ride him again, please father?
Painted horses leaping!
_______________________________
August 16, 2013
Poetry/Verse/Painted Horses Leaping
Copyright Protected, ID 13-1234-208-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted into Strand Choice A Contest
sponsor, Brian Strand
Honorable Mention