Long Menagerie Poems
Long Menagerie Poems. Below are the most popular long Menagerie by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Menagerie poems by poem length and keyword.
They did mock us ...did they not?...the mockingbirds?
I say they did!...innuendo infuse...as pellucid as she...they mocked us!
...gossiped luridly about us in luscious low tones like the old hen in her
folding chair...nothing better to do than judge in ripples to her cluck...her menagerie...in their horribly ugly dough smeared aprons...their blue heads tilted in close at twilight...their murmurings...wet currants of milky weighted ancestral opinion...like the too sweet fragrant frangipani of yesterday's casket bouquets.
They are the last vermillion crest of an ending era...the harsh setting sun
of discrimination's descent ...now blurs to a color rich flag and nation...The Mockingbirds ...be damned!
For 10 words 10 lines contest
Long since ago this paradise, became our proud ancestral home.
Where eventides are graced, with skylines flames of vermilion shades,
Their embers finally embrace sundown, as night draws nigh and twilight fades
Those heady scents of frangipani, casts magic potions upon summers breeze.
And mockingbirds forever never cease, to mimic natures sounds in song.
While the menagerie of wildlife silently, still forage verdant banks of lakes,
Moonlight mirrors on pellucid waters, silhouetting mountain peaks.
Luscious landscape all to recall, in memories and distant dreams
Where wild flowers perfume, infuse emotions evergreen,
To tranquil sounds of ripples, soothing senses, endlessly reprise.
1/ 9/ 2018.
mystique mist
of opaque veil
designs in desolation
amorphous ambiguity
swathes with singularity
penultimate pathway
obscure
at terminal time-post
of future crypt
a m b I g u o u s
sunset swansong
in transient twilight
resonates
in void valley
of abandoned present
silhouetted still
on somber skyline
of indigo filigree
morphing into
melancholic epithet
e n g r a v e d
turmoil threads
embroider morbid motif
at pallid tassel
of obsessed clouds
latticed by passion clumps
with fervor fringe
f r a y e d
sensuous storm
from onyx horizon
ornate once
with halcyon hues
constructs chameleon chimera
of configured illusion
on yearning canvas
ablaze in cold flame
of dormant desire
f r o z e n
memory menagerie
from burnt relic
flies away
in wasteland whirlwind
u n b o u n d
hope shards adrift
in poignant current
of fluid psyche
ductile
flow flustered
in sullen stream
of billion teardrops
in twilight terrain
reminiscent
of remnant rays
of sublime sunset
shape shifting
to intuition violin
r e s o n a n t
symphony echoes
the last vibrato
behind fallen curtain
for the lone audience
latent concerto
suffuses listless life
with tuneful resonance
of sonorous sanguinity
e t e r n a l
The flood never did subside,
each person became an ark.
Only now
the creatures have shrunk,
mixed up
until one species carries
the genetics of all the species.
Fantastical beasts have arisen,
in a thimble of water.
The great flood is a teacup ocean of tears,
but who’s tears?
God has long since dried Her eyes,
The lamb and the lion,
(Her onetime time
emotional support animals),
have become so intermingled
that their parts are unrecognizable.
The leaping waves toss we arks
over the moon and back again,
leaks spring leaks -
the drowning drink.
We are all looking
for a mountaintop somewhere,
so far, only a few have returned
with that long expected news.
The rest of us drift on
still looking for that place
to offload our cargo,
our menagerie of leftover souls.
I started with a canary,
A happy little fellow
Who loved to sing and chirp at me.
He really was quite mellow.
Then I joined a bird club
To learn more about his care.
I found that owners of only one bird
Were, apparently, something rare.
Then our club held a spring auction,
All the birds there were so nice.
When no one else would start the bid
My hand shot up, once or twice.
I didn't see how anyone
Could not bid on such lovely birds.
Next thing you know I've aquired nine,
Now one bird had become herds.
My spare bedroom has no bed now.
There just wasn't room for it.
The three large bird cages I have
Make it quite a tight fit.
So what was once a single bird
Is now a menagerie.
I have a large cage for each breed,
Canary, finch and budgie.
There's another auction coming soon
And I hate to think I must go
Because though I don't intend to buy more
I probably will, you know.
My sworn enemy elect, is the constant profusion of illustrative choice,
even though it bestowed to me this shrewd strident voice,
I have unfeigned gratitude aplenty for opulent options but still,
with itemised information excessive without curb I’m ill,
one can sift through a menagerie of bewitching pros and cons,
skewed point of reflection, adopted pose, other folk dons,
diverse argument galore or hairsplitting please beware,
arch devilish trap covert, that sprung sneaky snare, surplus fact monoliths depending on an ultimate decision, shun bogus trendsetting at once with sheer derision, to be visibly cognizant as transparent courses of action, quite vast indeed and mammoth not a minute fraction,
when I commit to redeem there is an element of risk, but unwarranted deferral frowned on, one must be brisk, in the absolute recess of my mind is this constant pressure, to battle with surplus plethora, items novel and fresher,
with such package, pitch, display, slogans and colour,
choice might emerge to boost mood then banish dolour, broad scope “they” unleash, a nod to the downright plausible, the chocolate de luxe editions are they tangibly laudable, it is not for me to magnify an apparent risible matter, pettifogging, quibbling, nitpicking, pointless chatter,
I must insist on venting as a means to a clear path ahead,
yes, to coexist with at many levels trivial confusion instead,
excess products can be such a grandiose glossy term,
whose prevalence a nuisance that makes one often squirm,
but one can perhaps reframe and reconsider a resolute intention,
with the utmost alacrity in the context of apprehension,
drawing up a permanent peace treaty to empower a cessation,
with this fierce opponent choice as permanent extrication
blue war red hot political issues dont amount
to a hill of beans
when Sword of Damocles count
approaches zero hour
as global tensions mount
signaling increased chance
trigger finger will free
avast nuclear winter
(across world wide web) re:
leasing plethora pyrocumulus
mushroom clouds tree
mend us planetary explosions
annihilating webbed wide
world, an irrevocable earthlinked debacle
spelling widespread species
multitudinous extinction
ex post de facto after super
bowling powers (wannabe) vied
to wrest empowerment spanning
entire realm sans third rock
from the father, sun and holy ghost,
who turned substantial pock
kits of flora and fauna
once populating oblate spheroid ad hoc
significant swaths of life forms
pulverized and/or turned to ash
transformed into radioactive wasteland
after war mongers brash
lee usurped hegemony
(ruling inhabitants
of Gaia with an iron fist
with a smidgen of flavoring
courtesy of Missus Dash
superfluous taste enhancer,
when sibling burnt offering views
between Venus and Mars incendiary
tolled mourning news
smithereens sole remnant
poisoned every square inch
from weapon of mass destruction
that did cruise
engendering thick noxious fog
(disabling fox and roach)
while smoldering seas and continents
skull and crossbones didst poach
amidst the gasified, liquified, pureed
where holographic ghoulish super bowl coach
rendering lifelessness home for menagerie
where virtue trounced vice as organisms
(particularly one primate) didst try
(predominant 21st century simians)
tool heave with amity, comity, and empathy
animals and plants an experiment
that went a wry
presaging a nuclear winter with nary a winner
implicating mankind as the absolute sinner
instantaneously after Doomsday Clock
signaled point of no return
where grim reaper the sole grinner.
Form:
Traversing the petrified pining wasteland
I reached the emerald meadow,
emerged from the abyss of condensed aloneness
to be with you, entwined,
in the stellar sapphire night of desire,
but the enchanting echo of your faint footsteps
faded away from the portal of my heart.
What stayed with me
was the sound of silence you made,
I heard in the music of memory,
hidden in the fervor of my emotion, unexpressed.
As the ticking clock of our sanguine time stopped
at the edge of eternity,
my yearning like the sun
flaming the fleeting horizon
engulfed you with the sensual spectrum of craving,
the pacified passion got configured
into the unvoiced language of love,
composing the lilting lyric of belonging
intonated by my ardent words, unsaid.
When drifting on the delusive trail
of the melting mirage of memory menagerie
you disappeared like the dry dust
of the caved-in dune of the desolate desert,
I heard the mute me murmur, I love you,
I never said to you.
Non descript hedge rows sculpted into ornamental animal
via botanical artist wielding pruning shears and chain saw
carved, limned and sculpted with wrist wrought voila uber
prestidigitatiously head turning botanical picturesque Sun
kist animals at an exhibition transformed miraculously via
Te Deum divine fist bumping, whence realistic fauna burst
alive with an explosion of colorful twist and shout of foliage,
where scalloped superfluous detritus manna for naturalist
deciduous detritus capacious carpet boar animation punk
chew waiting groundswell Liszt ghost would arise from the
grave to produce magnum opus without a beat missed such
shrubbery mimicking the likeness sans glistening fleshy sin
yew, and gist about ready to become bone a fide (green be
hind the ears) thriving vox populist, per species and genus
wrought thrashing into birth as delicate craftsman promised
to imbue life, liberty and pursuit of happiness whittling away
leavings, thus did exist the nascent then omnipresent visible
entity emerging from cocoon an herbalist metamorphosed
from the imagination of a skilled, practiced and mentalist
conniver viz extracting the initially obscure blessed beast,
where with august magic wielding tools of this specialty vis
a vis bringing breathing manifest destiny ala Pinocchio (trans
formed from wood to flesh), whereby finest dexterous
chiseling blistering hands baffle onlookers as coterie of
topiary harvest breaths mind bogglingly astoundingly
authentic rooted ready to frolic in the grass menagerie
a gamesome group of linkedin live progeny, the Michel
Angelo of dirtiest canvass, an earthen tabula rasa of sorts
where application threshing re: electric cool laid ahs hid
test brings out chlorophyll doppelganger green hued key luster.
Form:
Peering through a starless veil,
A pallid eye—above the din
Spies furious shapes of tooth and nail,
Neath creaking giants with cracking limbs
A ghastly fiend with nary an eye,
Gaping maw and slithering tongue
Stretches taut a leathery hide,
To beat upon a tethered drum
Motley creatures with vicious bite,
Crooked spine and bony spurs
Caper 'round a flickering light,
In mottled skins and ragged furs
A supine figure amid the row,
Kissed by visage in shrouded garb—
One hand reassures a trembling brow,
The other, holds firm an ornate barb
An incantation from a gnarled crone,
Her fingers outstretched—snatch the moon
Thrusted steel through breast and bone,
Herald forth an inexorable doom
The suffering flesh—a siren song,
To The Horror lurking yon The Pine
Spawned in The Void of the Cosmic Throng,
Of shape and form that breaks the mind
————————
Piercing through the flickering veil,
A carnal gaze that churns within
Eyes curious shapes that bow and wail,
Repays in kind with a charnel wind
An eldritch tongue—like scoured sword,
Smites the menagerie on its knees
Withers the vine and sours the gourd,
Parts bird and bark from the trees
Sinewy beings with leathery wings,
Borne from the flame—flit to-and-fro
Pluck lifeless things like violin strings,
To marionette a puppet show
Neath weeping giants with blackened limb,
Infernal corpses, made to parade
The crone crows a hymn through hideous grin,
Sour on the wind, a sweet serenade
————————
In the cold, cruel dark—an icy refrain,
The soft, pallid glow—now scarlet red
The crone props her bones upon crooked cane,
And ventures forth with her army of the dead