Long Matt Poems
Long Matt Poems. Below are the most popular long Matt by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Matt poems by poem length and keyword.
Candy placed her towel on one of the many shelves that separated the weight-lifting area of the gym from that of the stationary bikes and treadmills. Tossed casually next to the towel were two keys – one for her house and one for her car, together on their cute chain with the slogan: No pain, no gain. She decided to begin her workout with bicep curls. As she strode to the spot she wanted, she smiled to see that nobody was occupying that particular piece of equipment. Someone stood a short distance from where Candy had tossed her towel and keys. A shop right next to the gym made copies of keys. He had been biding his time, but today he would grab her keys and get a copy made of the house key.
The nondescript man, dark-haired and of medium stature, fancied himself quite inconspicuous in his plain gym attire: gray sweat pants and an unremarkable shirt to match it. He stared at the young woman, but the expression on his face gave no indication of whether he devoured her visually with disdain or with pleasure. He seemed to think the trim sexy blonde took no notice of him. He could not have been more wrong!
Candy indeed had noticed the man immediately upon her arrival. He was the same creep she saw almost every other time she came to the gym, which would be once or twice a week, depending on her schedule. She made a mental note of the day and hour. It matched up to the other times she’d seen him. He was a Tuesday/Thursday evening kind of guy. She wondered if he thought she were blind to not notice him eyeballing her. What audacity he had! Suddenly, she saw him move toward the very shelf where she had placed her keys. Hmmm, she thought, what is that creep up to? Candy pretended not to notice when she saw him take her keys and then slide casually out of the gym. She decided to follow him. A plan was already forming in Candy’s pretty little head.
Sept. 19, 2022 for Matt Caliri's Chapter 1 Poetry Contest
(tentative title and beginning 3 paragraphs for my one idea for a thriller mystery novel that has been on my mind for a long time. I know the direction I want it to go, but I just can't decide how I would end it!)
Understandable... the sensible
(three ringed circuitous) logic
to trumpet necessity
each individual moost heed
bedecking, cloaking donning,
ludicrous interloper facial covering,
(I prefer sporting
latest custom made
invisible máscaras faciales),
when commingling amidst madding crowd,
nevertheless coronavirus (COVID-19)
makes laughingstock kickstarting
maniacal paranoid testing yapping
authoritarians blabber ceaselessly
bleak household pandemic
plagues (sear ring)
robust human specimen,
hence yours truly,
a feckless (gibbon) primate
breathes sigh of relief,
why? cuz he counts himself insignificant
absolute zero worth
versus microscopic prickly orb
aging long haired pencil neck geek
best beat hasty retreat
to his man cave
not necessarily avoiding microbial denizen,
yet any potential suffering
scouting out troubadour woefully
jackknifed inept hideaway
availed no choice
rolls out Harris tweed Scottish matt
courtesy minuscule germ man
greeting me with gotcha!,
I willingly surrender
the only thing at stake iz my life,
which would immediately
ebb fate (mine),
automatically buzzfeed chap
offer no chance
for symbiotic relationship
as pathogens indeed choreograph
(dirty deed done dirt cheap)
loft hilly doth waft
through cellular skeins comprising
garden variety/ generic gent
herewith essentially crafting
his poetic epitaph
before onset disables,
disallows, and disvalues
one humble, intelligent, jesting
kindhearted, literate, modest
nincompoop aimlessly adrift
within Brownian movement
(*****sapiens random motions
viewed miles skyhigh)
ostentatious, piteous, querulous,
ridiculous, superfluous, et cetera,
thus forward donations
and/or pledge
(I promise you -
swear to dog
portion of me ashes)
to favorite charity
and will hoop to visit thee as repurposed
noun, verb, adjective, adverb, pronoun,
preposition, conjunction, interjection,
numeral, article, or determiner...
My owners call me horse
You'd think I was barnyard watch dog
Fancy that. My spot beneath a shaded guava tree
Face rustic oversize shack with wide veranda
Where they rock. They watch me feed
Where green grass grow, where fowls and pigs stray
Feasting on ripe guavas, some bounce off my back
I don't mind that; not even the weight of my owner
Or his wife, riding me on certain days -
Wild smell of their plantation cling to me
They'd groom me from ticks, and feed me well
But their adopted son knew unsavory tricks
He'd grin, tickling parts of me with a bamboo stick.
One morn my owners stayed so long
I felt out of place, tormented by and by
That mischievous boy reached and pulled my tail
A horse knows only one way to kick
So an awful lick made him shout. He was out
From across the road, one hurried half stunned.
Sun at its zenith sat and watched
It was I, carrying my tormentor on my back
Seemed I walked a million miles
So he could be seen by a Doc
We walked and walked, until
Rain clouds cautioned us to turn back.
Day after day, I would watch Reggie at a distance
Sitting, staring, staying his hands straight.
...
Sponsor... Matt Caliri
Contest Name...'Back To The Barnyard'
Date...3-14-16
Nose goes to ears
Ears say, Who are you here?
Go away, you are from long distance
not my dear
Eyes say ears
you never be of mine
keep distance always
to be yourself and be fine
SOUL smiles.......................
For Contest: Sponsored by: Matt Caliri
by: bldevnath
dt.13.12.2011
*Image of Blackberries by Pixabay.
It's Blackberries
It's in the thoughts.
It's in the classroom.
It's during recess.
It's in the cafeteria.
It's in the library.
It's waiting for the school bell to ring.
It's the school bus ride home.
It's the tossed school bag on the porch.
It's in Pup-Tart, frolicking ahead.
It's the trail behind the house.
It's in the search.
It's in the anticipation.
It was in the lost.
It's in the found.
It's in the bending down to pluck.
It's in the endless lapping of my face by Pup-Tart!
It's in the holding in my palm.
It's in the look of my gaze.
It's in the tossing into my mouth.
It's in the chewing-bursting sensation.
It's down the throat into the satisfaction of a 50-year-old remembering -- blackberries!!
2022 August 06
*5th Place*
Your Thoughts On Blackberries
~~Matt Caliri: Judged 2022 September 08
RESOLUTIONS-
R esolve change undesired trait behaviors, to accomplish a personal goal decision aimed aspirations
E very second, minute daily, weekly moment or yearly
S single-mindedness strength of will strengths of character
O bjective obstinacy
L earning to promises of aligned new choices
U ncommitted to bulldog spirit
T enaciousness persistence steadfastness posed
I ntent intentions parts outputted or displayed
O bject plan pledge promises
N ever saying NO
S taunchness shamefulness persevered fixity of purpose
2/4/20
For Resolutions Poetry Contest
Acrostic poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri |
When frights are most appealing than sunshine.
That puts a stop to any remaining hope to shine.
Hell's dogs will wait with their terrifying teeth.
while a deadly famine swallowed them underneath.
When the sky is coated by a thick veil of darkness.
Covered a soul wailing with apathy and madness.
And that's what the stud horizon curves around.
A rainy, gloomy day that exceeds dismal enwound.
When all the land turns into a fiery, stuffy prison.
Where desire is a spider's obscurity, sensation
In a weak, fluttering flight alongside the grime.
Rafters and hitting its face toward a fetid crime.
It's raining slithering spiders of randomness.
Tear away the ice that traps us in landlessness.
Our minds have canals where water is flowing.
Yet those among us are of toxicity—blowing.
The chimes at once and angrily strike out.
And pierce the stillness with terrifying shouts.
As well as frightening vagrant and refugee.
Those who lack a home often hold shrill effigy.
Broad, quiet, hypnotic-rolling inurns are seen.
By way of my full being. A forlorn plea of ween.
Despotism takes shape from its terrible pain.
The hood of my dark cloak falls on my cruel brain.
Written: June 2nd, 2023
Bag Of Spiders Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri
Lemon blossoms blooming
Orchards heady fragrance
Gives rise to thoughts of fruit
Globes of yellow citrus
The crop will be profuse.
Lemon blossoms blooming
The scout has done her job
Under warm summer sun
Dripping orchard nectar
Honey bees job begun.
Lemon blossoms blooming
Fragrant flowers entice
Those hungry honey bees'
Their hive a seething space
So little room to breathe.
Lemon blossoms blooming
The queen is ruling hive
Honeycombs of delight
Too many occupants
swarming bees: hasty flight.
Bee Creative
Poetry Contest
Enter Contest
Sponsored
by:
Matt Caliri
24/05/2022
My 3-year-old showed me something on my phone...
And said, "look at this place"
Bewildered, she seemed frightened
I could see it...by the look on her face
When I looked at my phone; inconspicuously
I thought to myself, "hmm-why fear"
Swirling through the sky and all through the clouds
A mountain of steps, reaching to...somewhere
She tries her best...to count all the steps
But, at age three, she had barely counted to seven
So long a trail...geez
I lost count, after one thousand-eleven
So getting back to the fear she endured...
Was from the stairway to heaven that was built by the lord
Then when I explained, to her...it was meant for the good
She smiled so sweetly, just the way...that I thought that she would
Look At This Place Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Matt Caliri
4/7/2021
When I have a child ... I will teach them what my parents instilled
in me. I will teach them until my last breath, and it will be as follows ...
Be polite, saying please, thank you, and your welcome
Always be kind to everyone met
Never judge people
Live by a set of morals that will be taught throughout life
Be proud of accomplishments
Be humble about accomplishments
Learn how to accept failure and defeat with dignity
Always be learning all through life
Follow their own chosen spiritual or religious path
Have compassion, empathy and love for those less fortunate
Follow their own true north
Respect nature and all creatures
__________________________
February 13, 2023
Poetry/List/Teaching My Cherished Child
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1525-114-13
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, The 12 Things You'd Teach Your Child
sponsor, Matt Caliri, Judged 03/11/2023