Long Lopped Poems
Long Lopped Poems. Below are the most popular long Lopped by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lopped poems by poem length and keyword.
The sun was setting, as it usually does
The town a ghost town, the main street all but silenced
The wind blowing leaves and dreams to and fro
The tension in the air was palpable
The few souls about all peering out shuttered windows
When in from the west, came a storm
Her name was Serena Storm,
They shivered in her wake, the poetess of dead lovers
Then over to the east side, riding in slow and steady
The grim reaper or so it seemed, hollowed eyes
Dead soul and dark mind, his side arm at the ready
The greatest duel in history, right here
In the town of Nowhere
The setting sun reflected of her dark long coat
The last tear drop, falling to its death in the dust
She stared ahead, face blank
Daring, with a glare, shoot me, shoot me, try
He dismounted his horse, called Heartless Soul
His eyes slits, staring down the curvaceous storm pacing untoward
His hand inside his coat, slowly pulling out a mickey
He belted down a shot or three,
In the town of nowhere
They both paced, hands at their side
Closer and closer, the saloon keeper
Not quite sure his bottle would be paid in full
Then as quickly at the sun set……
Vaso drew first.
The finest long black quill one ever saw
His other hand dropped his bottle
Magically a writing pad appeared
Serena drew second, pen at her side
The color of blood, and for good reason
She too tablet in hand, putting ink to paper
As they both furiously wrote
In the town of Nowhere
Hearts were murdered
The meaning of life was hanged not long after
Love was beheaded
The main street a river of blood
A storm of tears washing away crimson desires
An empty vassal, Vaso’s insides already dead
Dropping his pen, he pulled out his sword of mourning
The duel to end, as he lopped off his own head
She dropped paper and pen to the ground
She faced down the grim reaper, and it’s he who is dead
The only one to know, his name was Arthur
King of the dark, ruler of lost dreams
In the town of Nowhere
The poetic duel of the century
Both won and lost
Long ago
Noah told his wife"God said it will rain;
That will be new; that willl be strange!
Furthermore ,He told me what we must do:
Gather all the animals two-by-two
And build an ark to contain the whole
Before the cleansing flood begins.Lets roll"
Moses caught sight of a burning bush.
He lingered there--in no great rush
"Your'e to return to Egypt", the Lord did say.
When I bring My people out, you'll lead the way!
Be sure you bring them all--every soul.
The time of My prophecy has arrived. Lets roll!"
David and his men ,hiding deep in a cave
To avoid Saul's wrath so their lives would be saved.
Saul camped at the entrance to block them in
Yet David snipped off a part of his garment's hem.
"Time now to leave this cave, damp and cold;
So we can progress toward my God-given kingship. Lets roll!
Jesus and His Disciples in the Upper Room;
Knowing that His purpose would be fulfilled soon.
After supper, they went to the Garden for prayer
And encountered Romes"finest", who ,with Judas were there.
Peter lopped off an ear;Jesus made it whole!
"I am He whom you seek. Lets roll"
From a plane over Pennsylvania,that September day,
Todd called Lisa,just to say
"I love you dear, but I'll probably not return home.
Terrorists control this plane;something's fearfully wrong!
We must stop them, so their plan will fold
Keep me in prayer! See you in Heaven" Lets roll!
Now patriotism has swept over our land
In God we trust; united we stand!
"God bless America" is the hymn of the day,
And on tv, we heard our President say
"We'll route out the terrorists, though they hide like a mole.
With God's help, we'll prevail! Lets roll"
Opportunities lay before us, to share our belief,
As we help our neighborss deal with their grief.
Hold forth God's True Word and we will see
Waves of revival across this country
Do our part and trust God to save souls.
There'll be great rejoicing in Heaven! Lets roll!
Charlie Pelota HSLP 1-25-2002
Form:
Long nosed earthy bookworm knows 'bout Angler Saxon
Shell yours truly share hook line
and sinker, regarding how I nearly
fell prey to off fish shill
doom for umpteenth time?
Ya haint got no choice... to late,
cuz eyes already clicked bait,
though don't worry be happy fate
will find thee enjoying poetic tête-à-tête
rhyming Hors d'oeuvres
ain't no Shakespearean literary great
expert, nonetheless might interest
with special Labor Day rate
absolute zero charge courtesy
to mollycoddle principally
as figurative paypal pit tate
ting gently massaging your pate
anyway don't get doggies in a dimple
yawping personal ambition
of this doggone puppy not to create
literary accomplishment appraised great
merely to fritter away time possibly
unexpectedly, unknowingly,
unwittingly... titillate.
Herewith follows "FAKE" off fish hill
anecdote without wallowing
in self pity and deemed gill
tee of slimy overkill,
whereby fisherman seeks likes of me,
who favors lollygagging
within Brooklyn rill
frequented by Jack and Jill
ice cream in vain
when riled, poked, nabbed...
courtesy angler England Bill
unaware his carping cavil
never fooling this ever will
fill squiggly... d'ya phylum me?
As proud Annelida where trawler
(accompanied with boating mate)
blithely tosses yours truly into catcher's
reel tin can - grim fate
ah, but survival skills include
ability to regenerate
in thee event mine body electric rotate
headed, chopped, perforated, segmented...
evening, increasing, licking... odds
laughing to myself, which doth not abate,
cuz I outsmarted, thus aye state
with modesty if perchance just a sliver
lopped off, destiny cannot eliminate
opportunity not to agitate,
but rather duplicate, replicate
unisexual worman hood
without need to feign
being irate, thus
pretend to equivocate.
“Death to Caesar!!!”
“What!! What did you say???”
I said: “Breath to Caesar!!”
“Long and healthy and contented breath.”
“So which of his Legions are you a part of?”
“OH! God, if there is one, they call us the freezing legion.
“See these fingers, well where they used to be, well
they got lopped off. It was so cold out they didn’t even
bleed. Saved my indentured frigging life.”
“Those that died froze so quickly we didn’t even
need litters to carry them off the field of battle.”
“Just picked them up stiff as you please and threw
them in the cart.”
“So What made you join up?” “Trouble with the law?
or In-law?” “Too many tarts?” “Eh, C’mon.”
“Damn, same old story. Dad’s a senator, always bragging
about his son, you know.”
“Agricolas this, Agricolas that.” “Dammit, stop snickering.
He thought it would be an advantage to have an outlandish
moniker.” “So he hung this one on me.” “So one day I just
got fed up, said screw this, and went off to become a legionnaire.”
“Guess I showed him what he could do with his stupid name.
Now I kill farmers, well not just farmers, just about anybody
that gets in the way of the Legion.” “Not a bad job though, as
long as your not the one frozen stiff and tossed in the cart.”
“Well, I bet your dad’s proud now.”
“Nope, hasn’t spoken to me in three years. Says I spend too much
time hanging about with the lower echelons of humanity.” “I told
him we weren’t partying, that I hacked their limbs off, crushed their
skulls, decimated their homes and villages.” “Last thing he said to me
was Nail Caesar!!” “Ya gotta love these loyal subjects.”
for Isaiah Zerbst, The Roman Legion contest
Hypocrisy
We are punished and jailed when we do wrong
We are warned of God’s wrath if we do something immoral
We are told life after death can be brutal or rewarding
We are threatened with Hell and rewarded with Paradise
But
We know about hell on earth
We know about the abundance of wonderful feelings while we live
But
When we die does our pain from hell or our richness from joys come with us?
After they die do we know if a cruel tyrant is punished
Or a child-molester, or a drug dealer, or a murderer, or an abuser
Are they made to feel the anguish and the terror they have inflicted?
When soldiers are betrayed by their allies
Are those so-called friends chastised after their death?
When you believe your mentors
Who tells you to kill the enemy of your faith
And your rewards will be in Heaven
And you perform the act of wilful murder
Are you rewarded or punished in your after life?
For thousands of years Humans have annihilation races for religious reason
But
Have we learned anything?
We still go on doing the same thing thus proving that
Punishment in the world of the after death does not exist
Because we don’t believe in fiction
We still have politicians who lie
We still have soldiers who die
But
But humans can cry for a bird that is killed
Or for a magnificent old tree that is lopped
And then tolerate injustice and murder in the name of their cause
Thank God
We believe there is goodness in people
If we don’t
Then life is a joke
A bad joke.
Form:
He whittled away
A very large branch
That in 6,000 days
Was part of his ranch
Yet not just the branch
Or a tree or two
He whittled a forest
Full, through and through
For this man and knife
Both aptly named, Jack
Had spent half their life
Constructing a shack
Jack’s knife was quite big
With hammer and shovel
To both cut and dig
A primitive hovel
After trees dropped
With Jack’s knife axe
The bark was lopped
To fill in the cracks
He whittled five oaks
And one hundred pines
Yet the pines, no joke
Took half the time
He sliced up the frame
Most days and nights
But could not hue stain
Nor pare out the lights
He whittled a door
Out of an ash tree
And also the floors
Of all rooms, just three
The man ate plenty
With no need to shop
Whittling fish hooks
And felling peach crops
Then finally old Jack
On a day with gloom
Completed the shack
That lacked head room
The rooms were too small
For all the hassle
Yet, Jack stood tall
Beside his castle
His wife took a tour
But quickly fumed
Since there was no sign
Of a bathroom
But Jack was prepared
For his fair spouse
Pointing out back to
A rough sawn outhouse
Still, floors were creaky
From lacking nails
And ceilings were leaky
Details, details
So Jack told his wife
That his next mission
He’ll devote his life
On an addition
And when they had kids
Of at least three
They learned to whittle
Their own family tree
I’m lacquered again within your glowing effect
slinking in solitude until ego gets wrecked
by your magnanimous accord of splendor
quaking my resolve until I surrender.
Your laugh raises hairs along my prickly spine
to remunerate my comical design:
that quirky irony that spirit reveals
since exiled in wonderment without appeals.
Gross disdain sweeps across your delicate face
when memories of arrogance scrap life’s grace.
Preconceived notions spit venom to rival
your serpentine mind clawing for survival.
Tension-soaked apprehension sparks attention
within your dimension of comprehension
as wraiths and jackboots compress your elation,
the occult foundation bids consternation.
They don’t know the treasures you carry proudly
since they busy themselves shouting so loudly
why they deserve interest from your goddess form
while these citizens ignore the pending storm.
I recognize your salvation without words
as the planet gets hacked apart into thirds
plagues stream from labs to spill this leper genus
till your arms and light get lopped off like Venus.
With your passing the scoundrels start amassing
regulations designed to be harassing
since tyrants opposed to any contention
shall claim humanity deserves suspension.
-
The draper shop in Drumshanbo town was busy on the day
The girls were moving bales of cloth and packing shelves away
Are you allowed to dance tonight Jackie's hall we all can sway
It's a ceili Band of Shan-a-han their good to dance and play
-
Dadddy's working late the pit and Sunday mass must go
The night before this dance you talk a condition don't you know
I will my mother announce to her and mammy will promote
My dress is paid and shelf a laid I'll take now then she wrote
Home that evening gay and trip the thatch upon the hill
Daddy home descends the thrown and says no way you will
Sad and cry by tears to sill and wipe them with the net
A car a pilot steps on out and walks the lane we met
American Uniform proud and boast a cousin from the states
Oh ! Daddy dear please come come here I beg it's not too late
Well fair enough a chaparone took, be home by midnight moon
Oh ! Daddy dear I love you here and Mammy stirred the spoon
Into the dance a pride so strong all girls with jaws a dropp
A stunning man she said at hand an accent slightly lopped
I know that day my mother say one day I'll marry him
But Daddy knows as cousins go not possible a sin
(Snippet of a story involving my mother in 1940s -West of Ireland)
The Yellow Head of the Hummingbird
Yellow hummingbird head,
Lopped off by feline fangs,
And left as a gift
On the welcome mat.
Short sharp black beak
Arches downward hopelessly
Like the collective heartbreak
Of a million lost souls.
Misbegotten and forgotten.
Lacerated and left for dead.
This continuous marathon dance.
This never-ending lunge.
This eternal stroll in the park.
This incessant spasm in the dark.
I close my eyes and reach for something ahead of me.
I don't want to see it.
Because I am afraid,
Afraid of what it might see.
Afraid of what it might say.
Past my eyes
Past my soul
Past the lost days and nights
Of an entire lifetime.
Look.
I hold in my hand an empty bottle.
It once held the liquid refreshment of my youth.
Now I see the scum marks
The black residue of a thousand forgotten thoughts.
I throw the empty bottle down
Down into the darkening maelstrom
Of rippling voices, screaming and crying,
Like gulls in the afternoon
When the sun compels the vulnerable to the surface,
And the feeding frenzy begins.
The yellow head of the hummingbird
Is swept up with the shattered glass.
Now, there’s no more emptiness.
Life on Earth is but a brief interlude,
watercolors fading, becoming air.
Yet, loving once surely we could conclude
love is the purpose of our being there.
Night upon night, it's my dreams you intrude.
You thought this was all there was to one's life:
one chance to know beauty and life's wonder.
Sorrow and happiness mingled with strife,
much to be carelessly cast asunder,
as if lopped off by a marauder's knife.
I believe there is more, for I can feel
the touch of your skin brushing against mine.
A different moment on Time's great wheel;
a unique story written line by line,
another life's mysteries become real.
I see us together in boundless space,
your voice whispering love words in my ear.
I'll kiss your lips, caress your whiskered face,
we'll murmur words only spirits can hear.
centuries will pass during our embrace.
I will search for you behind every cloud,
upon every star you might catch a ride.
I'll hear every voice that beckons aloud
until I hear your's and I'm by your side;
we two alone in the afterlife crowd.
October 5, 2021
Quintain (Sicilian)
Emile Pinet, Sponsor
8th Place