Long Lunacy Poems
Long Lunacy Poems. Below are the most popular long Lunacy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lunacy poems by poem length and keyword.
...She spoke to him in friendly tones,
dropped him DMs and made it known
that she’d like to meet up some time,
a pleasant evening they could find.
She even said she was sorry
for mocking him so easily,
that she regret her wild youth,
(she couldn’t say it wasn’t truth!)
To her surprise, the man set yes,
Carmena nearly lost her breath
when she met him at the bistro,
into a handsome man he’d grown.
The date was such a real delight,
they talked for hours, until night,
as if they had been friends for years,
Oliver belied all her fears.
He wasn’t dull, at least not now,
that was the gift that age allowed,
to be free of youthful passions,
to see a man, learn to know him.
And though she swore she would hold back,
that night, at her place, she attacked
this man and led him to the bead,
they tossed and tumbled, then rested.
She awoke to see him standing,
picked up his clothes, stared dressing,
she said, “Come on, it’s a weekend,
come back to bed, let’s go again.”
Oliver just gave her a small smirk,
said, “Yeah, I don’t think that will work.
Fun as this was, it’s over see,
in truth, you’re kind of old for me…”
She looked up, shocked, not getting why
such words were coming from this guy,
he laughed again, and said, “I must
thank you first, for the both of us.
“I wasn’t hunting trim last night,
but alas, it somehow felt right
to bang the chick who shattered me,
and taught me how a man should be.
“You see, back then, I was quite dull,
respecting the ladies in full,
and what did that get me? Nothing.
Girls like bad boys, no denying.
“They crave men who treat them like sh-t,
that Chad ******* just displayed it,
you’d chose him over guys like me?
I make six figures, it’s lunacy!
“But hey, without you I’d have not
learned their tricks and got what they got.
the bad-boy game’s not hard to play,
and I get sex most every day.
“Just act strong, play the alpha game,
they’ll come running and give up strange,
no need for weddings or divorce,
and I don’t loose my shirt in court.
“So I guess this circle is done,
by the way, you had no protection…
I’ll see you ’round, Carmena dear,
but I don’t think I’ll come back here.”
With that he just sauntered away,
Carmena cried for the whole day,
and wished that her whole life would burn
for what she’d taught, and what she’d learned.
I’m rapt, yet sad those times I see
that boy who means the world to me.
When he walks in, I cannot take
my eyes off him, nor can I break
the spell he weaves so seamlessly!
How can I ever be set free
from eyes as azure as the sea?
I’m dreaming, yet I dream awake
I’m rapt, yet sad.
With him I’d know felicity.
However, it is lunacy
to think that I could ever make
him mine! My heart will ever ache,
for he’s with HER, so it can't be!
I'm rapt, yet sad.
June 29, 2017 for the Form R Contest of Broken Wings
My choice of words: #2 Rapt. Poetry form choice: Rondeau
Just a few scattered sprinkles of sanity remain,
holding any hope hostage.
But for what price you may ask?
Is this all that's left?
Will the engine finally sputter and die?
Another moment suspended in time,
and all that settles is dust.
And the pendulum stops half way up,
just to see if I notice,
with that smug, "hey look at me", attitude.
Well someone sure needs attitude,
and why not the world of the inanimate.
I cried til I laughed and danced in the puddle of tears,
where the years fell like brittle branches,
in the tornado's path.
Cutting a swath through my soul ,
to where all reason takes a final bow;
And lunacy takes the upper hand,
as the mirror screams, " Is this me".
Carl A Fraser
Merlin was born by sorcery.
A demon father, incubus.
Virginal mother, royalty.
Great wizard of King Arthur's court.
Of legends, deeds and chivalry.
That fabled castle Camelot.
He prophesied, waved magic spells.
Bade Viviane of Avalon,
Enchantress Lady of the Lake,
To forge a royal magic sword.
Excalibur she set in stone.
Merlin besotted and beguiled
Reveals; his secrets for her love,
Black magic art, dark sorcery.
Which wantonly would seal his fate.
Arthur's crowned King, he drew the sword.
Excalibur it blinds the foe.
King Arthur's scars in victory,
By magic scabbard, they don't bleed.
Merlin rewards his Viviane
To cross the sea to Avalon.
A magic castle on her lake,
Whoever passed, they could not see
He built for her by sorcery.
She spurned his love, insanity.
Merlin's a Druid going mad.
Hallucination, lunacy.
Now wild man of the apple woods
In Avalon, misunderstood.
Craving his freedom, prophesied,
Three times how would a young boy die.
He saw him falling from a rock.
Then secondly, hung from a tree.
And finally he would be drowned.
His captors laughed, how could this be,
A prophecy turned into three.
One day the boy walked by a stream.
He tripped and fell from off a rock
His leg entrapped by roots of tree,
Hanging, he drowned in waters deep.
Merlin's predictions, set him free.
But Viviane now cast a spell.
Entombing Merlin in a stone.
That temptress Lady of the Lake.
The pregnant moon has led a man astray.
His life, and others too, he’ll devastate.
The plane trip of a fool begins today.
A lunacy infection in him lay
simmering, his heart to penetrate.
The pregnant moon has led a man astray.
For on a night of moon’s full bloom in May,
he saw the face which led him to this gate.
The plane trip of a fool begins today.
His passion for her grew with each foray
estranging him from his kids and dear mate.
The pregnant moon has led a man astray.
She launched his thousand ships, then went away.
His plan , like waxing moon, would soon gestate.
The plane trip of a fool begins today.
Now he waits for take-off on the runway-
not knowing of his flame’s marital state!
The pregnant moon has led a man astray.
The plane trip of a fool begins today.
Jan. 21, 2020
N/A in Your Best 2019-2020 Villanelle' Poetry Contest
(except for me, it's my ONLY villanelle in a year)
Now I enter it in John Hamilton's 'N-A rerun 5' Contest
Are you feeling depressed and lonely
And you don't really have a care
You get yourself in such a state
And scream life is just not fair.
You feel that no-one loves you
You sit alone and cry
You get yourself in such a state
And scream to God why? why? why?
Why am I so depressed you say
Can't anybody see
If only I could rid myself
Of this lunacy.
But wait a minute I hear you say
Somethings come to me
I read this poem the other day
It said that God loves me.
It said that God so loved the world
He sent His Son to die
But can He rid me of this curse
I think I'll give Him a try.
After all said and done I have nothing to lose
But everything to gain
So Father turn my life around
I ask in Jesus name.
She is intrigue in denim, dressed with just a whisper of leather, which confirmed she wore lace underneath, there's a delicate strength in her voice, a lunacy that sings in her laughter, a tenderness you can read in her smile, lips blushing with the color of wisteria petals, beware, her eyes will eat you whole, there is a sophistication in her simple manner, yet an enigmatic element difficult to discern, there's a double edged darkness in the aura surrounding the elegant hue of her allure, her portrait contains a piece of every woman I've ever loved, as well as every woman I will ever know,
She is intrigue in denim.
Judge Santiago Burdon
Stray Dogs and Deuces Wild, Not Real Poetry, Quicksand Highway, Fingers in the Fan, Tequilas Bad Advice, Lords of the Afterglow, Overdose of Destiny, Architect of Havoc, A Charlatan's Aphorisms Junk Drawer Poetry
Lunatic Lunacy
Let there be no doubt—the human mind is a curious
and most fragile entity in and of itself in all situations.
The border line between sanity and lunacy speaks to
the fate that some of us in our mortal world must face.
A troubled spirit, by the very hand and intent of God,
speaks to a cruelty that’s not worthy of the Almighty.
A nibbled mind over time may reveal a state of true
insanity that speaks to and reveals a human tragedy.
The state of human lunacy gives our white-coated
doctors something to ponder in this so crazy world.
A lunatic may indeed suffer from a state of incurable
lunacy—yet, no wonder, look at the world we live in.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
June 6, 2021 (Couplet)
4/3/22
Can't stay gloomy
Or think looney
Because the outcome will be puny
It's nothing new to be
All this tomfoolery
Won't ever be cool to me
The same can be said for obsessing over jewelry
Or boards of Charcuterie
Been doing it differently and beautifully
Not the same as when you went to school with me
You're still soft and quick to turn rotten like a blueberry
I would've gone for it, but you never wanted unity
Meanwhile continual scrutiny
And lunacy
As well as an occasional mutiny
If I'm speaking truthfully
Before it's my eulogy
I got to do it with ingenuity
Relatable
Likable yet hateable
No need to be debatable
Don't you quit
I don't got all the answers or blueprints
Still going through it
Working toward true grit
Watching out for any new tricks
Does no good to stay clueless
And always foolish
Otherwise you'll lose quick
Regardless of if you are a Buddhist
Time has shown and proved this
Too late the moon exposed herself
emerging naked from chiffon clouds.
The Moon; she the mistress
of insanity and love
had arrived
yet her curtain call came too late.
There were bodies to count,
some still twitched their pale limbs.
Lovers ran blindly through empty streets,
the loved and the lonely rolled in their beds
in a fever of want.
Juliet searched the night sky for him
alas a wane moonlight caught her eyes,
had sent them spinning into webs of doubt
until she felt betrayed.
The mistress appeared too late;
for even in her Luna absence
drapes had been pulled over
the victims
of love and lunacy.
The night had bit deep,
both lovers and all other trusting souls
were left deserted, hungering
and lightless.