Long Maniacally Poems
Long Maniacally Poems. Below are the most popular long Maniacally by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Maniacally poems by poem length and keyword.
Still Life for Words in C Sharp Minor
They strolled the shady avenues
under a noon sun in the summer,
smelling the emergent gardenia bulbs
spinning maniacally in their mastery;
so they gathered up the white flowers
with practiced deliberate fingers,
bringing them to their stuffy noses,
to breathe in their exhalations of perfume spice.
They ventured askew with unstated intent,
roused by infinite atoms within,
to an open screen door,
wherein they saw intense sunlit explosions,
filtering through as determined light creatures,
and pulled through moaning space
for a secret rendezvous,
a shady sojourn of weird curiosities,
enacted behind a single closed door,
and other astonishments never before seen,
much less imagined.
These invisible wisps have entered in now,
with their practiced rituals and protocols,
known only to the obscure and the crazy.
They seek to find a still darkness;
Instead, they receive a green carpet,
stretching from room to room,
with old worn furniture gawking,
leads them to the regal dining room where
a crystal chandelier made of dull glass
hangs limply from the pale ceiling.
And flashing cloudless before them,
a curtained-spreading window,
exposing for the both to see,
a wide angular swath,
of shimmering gardenia blossoms.
I am summer, flitting around in a faerie like way
Landing on iris, lilac, tulip, rose and Queen Anne’s lace.
A pesky loud bumble bee is following me, but I am evasive.
I glide into the shadows of the woods, avoiding his meanness.
I paint my happiness into joyful beasts – dragons and pirates.
Sun comes in through the window to take giant peeks at my progress.
I bask in her interest, adding neon yellows, golds, pinks, and greens.
There is something refreshing about me today; I am a new woman.
I am summer, splashing around in a salt water pool.
Throwing my enthusiasm into the air in a maniacally relaxed way.
School is out, and exuberance and mirth bubbles out of me.
I am joyful and excited, and thrilled.
April fools' day - ordinarily all manner of tomfoolery abounds
Written/updated since last year
unlike any other
when out of this world
outlandish accouterments
people did wear
hermetically sealed
of even faintest tear
to avoid contamination
against coronavirus pandemic
air supply difficult to spare
when wing and prayer
soul saving amazing grace
frankly against scalpers, marauders,
and fraudsters steeling
themselves to profiteer.
Pandemic straps tightly
plied girded beltway
unlike any other All fools day
in annals of recorded ("fake") history
western civilization tapestry doth fray
April first two thousand and twenty four
neigh, no time for horseplay
what with coronavirus (COVID-19)
boarded ship of jilted fools
(think *****sapiens)
barred courtesy omnipotent jackstay
furloughed workers analogous
grumpy minions lay
dwarfed by unfortunate global events, née...
germinating, jackknifing, and wreaking havoc
Mother Earth nonchalantly toying
(indiscriminately) regarding humanity
as bestrewing bajillion biohazards berserkly
bequeathing bedlam child's play
just desserts, she doth understandably repay
man/womankind flicked as flotsam and jetsam
vile treatment diabolically heaped,
jubilantly loosed, maniacally pitched
upon her terrestrial firma oy vey
she chokes, gags, laughs raspily yea
rebuffs, refuses, and renounces further abuse.
Nevertheless toothless gumption, albeit feeble
fighting spirit, her survival instincts assail
cumulative environmental destruction
triggered casus belli expelling deadly toxins,
when Gaia doth exhale
since onset of global interregnum
(think virulent spreading poisonous Kudzu
like wildfire biohazard)
since world wide webbed disease
brought grinding halt
consumerist paradigm in lockdown,
nonetheless within brief interim
noticeable clearer air to inhale
amazingly enough postal system...
intact voila... uninterrupted delivery of mail,
the daily highlight experienced
among people emotionally crippled
pasty faced and pale
finds quivering Captain Kangaroo
plus good n plenti proud primates
each dancing and quivering
like a captive dang gulling quail.
It feels like today
is falling into place
when I determine your face
It is bright…
A touch of light
is shone
as glorious as the sun
Then I slip on my own face
What a fine day
I’m not ashamed to say it
It’s a perfect occasion to say it
I can’t believe it’s happening
so abruptly,
intruding a long,
fatigued day
I’m just rolling along
Beside the ocean
Behind the mountains
Lift up my lowly spirits
Laughing maniacally
like a freaky clown
This fine day…
Soon withers away
with murky clouds
turning my smile
into a frown
singing tenderly
a most calming rhythm
sending dismay
in my urbanized bones
Hiking…climbing
on vast mountains
caught in the tone
of my withering voice
and it’s about time I rejoice
better than earning a fortune
the way I sing that tune
will flip the day like a dime
revolving the night to day
echoing the same tune
like a lullaby
The time is coming soon
What a fine day
I’m not ashamed to say it
It’s a perfect occasion to say it
I can’t believe it’s happening,
but I must roam
home and sparkle
my duty
and fulfill
My fine day
no more dismay
As far as ethereal creatures are concerned,
she fell somewhere in between
a wood nymph—
fragile and belligerent—
and a centaur—
untamable and resilient
she is a living, breathing juxtaposition;
far from flawless,
yet infinitely beyond perfect.
She was flawed,
but as an ornate kintsugi vase
cracked to pieces
and sutured back together with gold
Like the Starry Night
with all its textured paint strokes
thrown together through an artist’s insanity
to procure a masterpiece
Like the Sistine Chapel,
her immaculate art
born from bitterness and dark secrets.
Her body is a museum;
Curated through a series of tragic stories
An erratically beautiful display
of the good,
the bad,
and the utterly grotesque.
Her beauty wasn’t meant to be consumed
by savage, hungry eyes
but admired; beheld
with a fastidious delicateness
not unlike that used to cradle a butterfly
that willfully gravitates towards you.
Where life not only gave her lemons,
but squeezed the juice into her eyes
and laughed maniacally,
she, in her ethereal nature,
embraced the burn,
threw them back,
and demanded something different.
And life, too stunned to protest,
simply complied.
And now,
though a series of tragic stories,
she is fragile and belligerent,
untamable and resilient,
terrifying and gentle,
and completely, complexly beautiful.
The Maker : Knit and Purl
The Maker wields the needles
of predestination and free will,
One in each strong, talented hand.
Knitting the yarn and thread of our lives
Into the fabric of time with such love.
Knit ,with predestination;
His will is done.
Purl ,with free will;
Our choices made.
Knit and purl, purl and knit,
The pattern known to Him and yet
allowed to be as it is, who it is.
It is when choice agrees with His will
That the pattern becomes
as beautiful as He intended.
Until the tapestry of lives
form who we are, why we are.
Interlocking with others,
Becoming part of the
pattern of all things.
The Enemy cuts
With sharp shears of deceit.
Maniacally ripping jagged holes.
The Maker patiently mends
With healing truth and love.
Knit and purl, purl and knit
Until we are whole again.
Form:
Smack crackle pop The fire was throwing herself
She would smoulder occasionally into grey
Then revive herself with orange flame shoots,
delighting me and the other kids.
These kids were pretty much strangers to me.
I was re-thinking my decision
to tag along with my cousins, who were wearing
unusual faces in the shadows of the fire.
A loud popping sound came from behind. "Was that a gun?"
Some of us laughed nervously. Probably a deer walking in the woods,
A camp counselor suggested. Sure....
The tents were starting to look maniacally mean
Same time next year?
My cousin whispered into my ear. I sat mesmerized,
staring at the campsite that always brings me home.
Of course! I whispered back. This was only my thirteenth
year at Lake Red Haw. Why would I change any of this?
An owl hooted a friendly hello.
And I smiled.
Knowing I would take this memory to heaven.
Fast forward at least two score
Earth's orbitz round the sun
approximately the year 2040
history already wrote him off
as thee worst president
(based on numerous metrics)
of these United States.
Now toggle back to today
November 17th, 2020
the forty fifth commander in chief
still biden his time
refuses to concede election results
despite irrefutable opponent win,
yet he (who cannot be named)
refuses to budge
holding strongly steadfast to his perch
nursing narcissistic grudge
that eligible voters
rendered him irrelevant
courtesy enfranchisement nudge,
a showdown will lead to ouster
as leader of the Republican party.
He, the tragicomical unpopularly snubbed character
can wreak untold havoc
between aforementioned said date
and Wednesday January 20th, 2021
orders issued promulgating orders such as:
1. decreeing civil service
subject to political oversight
2. allow sale of oil and gas permits
within Alaska's Arctic National Wildlife Refuge
3. require renewal of regulations
under purview courtesy
Health and Human Services Department
hobbling COVID-19 vaccine
4. impose sanctions on Iran
5. finalize peace deal
signed with Taliban in Afghanistan
6. broker extension regarding
New Start nuclear treaty with Russia
7. deliver spate of pardons to his cronies
8. disclose sensitive national-security information.
That mean son of a
would gleefully, maniacally,
and royally ditch
the democratic process plagued
with many a glitch
permanently incapacitating turncoat
henchmen/women who snitch
revealing true guise as wicked witch.
Who knows what evil lurks in the heart of man,
especially one groomed to win at all costs
and would sooner ruin the planet
versus admitting himself as sore loser?
We never knew She-Fee really. She was our cousin, but
She was banished practically the first time my parents saw her.
Strange my father pronounced almost immediately.
My mother was horrified by her command of adults.
We were drawn to She-Fee for she was full of clever silliness.
She had a monarch on her cheek and a dragonfly followed her.
They are afraid of me, she told us, pointing to our aunt and uncle.
I call them 'Will Do Anything' and "Glad I Am Stupid'.
We were amazed. We had never seen Uncle Will speechless.
He laughed maniacally, because I think he was nervous.
Aunt Gladys ran off crying. Which is how assertive our cousin is.
It was our first visit with her, a two-day trip we never made again.
She was six-years-old at the time, completely in charge of them.
They were her easily manipulated minions, not her gatekeepers.
We had a lovely day or two watching her order them about.
The next time I saw her, was at their funeral.
She came out of the forest to watch us but not really.
She wore a giant rose bud teacup on her head, hiding her eyes.
Deer and a squirrel followed her. I was delighted, remembering her.
She waved without lifting the cup,
Then went back into the forest.
Obviously, she had new subjects to command.
Methinks muss elf akin to a cold prickly...
being analogous to a
limp biscuit viz
wussy wonky willy,
yet back in the day
rolling in hay worm
may at large cavorted
frolicked, and idealized
as a warm fuzzy.
Though aforementioned title
slightly risqué and silly,
yours truly dwells in Schwenksville,
approximately an hour drive
northwest from Philly,
a geographic enclave flush with
seeds of life and White Lily
hometown of mine reminiscent
of Lake Woebegone
similarly verdant and hilly.
Today I bubble with gumption and glee
riding a crest of carefree euphoria prithee
within Netherlands home to Zuiderzee.
Now yours truly lets thoughts unspool
as they popup like mushrooms
after a soaking rain
and flash across consciousness
hoping to hammer somewhat
comprehensible poetic product
wrought courtesy tool
of me noggin
stream of consciousness school
meanders and follows no particular rule.
Despite being rescued
from blimey and bloody
ten thousand cannibals yippee,
where before escaping xi
shark infested cyber sea,
I nearly fell prey to piranhas we
dulling their way think valley
girls enlisting themselves
to be worshipped
as omnipotent trustee
trumpeting themselves
as shaykhah of chic re:
to do bidding of commoners
heavily guarding, ousting,
and thwarting stiff contenders
for commodification, commiseration,
commercialization, communication
and glory of riches q.e.d.,
quod erat demonstrandum
selling one soul to the devil
what a pity
exploitation, juxtaposition, opposition
temptation teasing proletariat offeree,
who seductively utter née
all the while vicarious thrilling
analogous to shady subterfuges
within dark wide web
bloodhounds (created courtesy
artificial intelligence) ripping asunder
supposedly airtight code,
while proficient hackers punching
virtual holes at Norton and McAfee
and other logistics wizards to protect data
laugh demonically, hysterically,
maniacally, sadistically, and zestfully
at those payees party as licensee
guardians of regal materialistic realm
do as I saith - speaketh bourgeoisie.