Long Metrical tale Poems
Long Metrical tale Poems. Below are the most popular long Metrical tale by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Metrical tale poems by poem length and keyword.
So when the webbed-tide snares the lunars nether recesses in its glow casting shadows that arise among the craggs wedged beside some cliffs of common confirmed debris of the unnamed fallen heaps of mucked mired forgottned decay of worthless grime not meriting the struggles of a just reclaim promptly caused to fester including the residue of the reprehensibles whose lacking morals that from some particular decedent, intrusive spirit of Ne'ermere that steer souls to the steppes of the moors, where thou commands those hounds that wish to sever your sensitive skins and drain your spirit waters down that moat where your convictions will spark a lifetime of despair, honors the ambling of the blood moon of its wayward course of trailed afflictions that you wished and begged for death's swift visit for the determined inklings inscribed on petals of the columbine and their guarded secrets, steeped in the devil's brew of stirred concoctions meant for the hags of Ne'ermere and the warlocks of destruction and mayhem who pounces playfully on their prey of the misguided who are filled with disillusioned words that are as hollow as you, e'er stretching the imaginative liquified existence exposing a mirage of iniquities galvanizing its hold of treasured happenstance of certainties lost, fulfills a page of the intrepid who is but a shimmer presenting hope a hand of salvation gathered up in a smotherance and they'll all flicker away, anointing souls spared the vacuum of insignificance for doomsday is here bridging the channeled souls in their mortal state of decay of their tenous grasp of withered mass of fiberous veins where remnants of vigourous life succumbs to their true demise of the incredibly hideous and the indescribable now in the passage way between dying and death of their heinous acts of torturous screams bellowing throughout the chamberous pits of the unwanted dead where the lame, mute, and deaf search the living dead for their body parts, of severed limbs, eyes that hang out of the eyesockets, the unjointed tendons that flay about ever so freely, stenched air that festers while not only choking of whatever remians, seemingly an act of deceny, bestowing on the residue of assemblage from the former occupant, might be afforded an instantaneous journey into the sunrise of the...everlacking.
2019 September 18
(alternately known as the Doubting Thomas Crown
Taj Mahal Cupid Affair)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Fortunate (for me) thee bona fide "FAKE" Cupid
(aka Decoy Donald Duck
and side kickstarter Jay Rad,
colluded donning one alias,
which (former and latter)
amounted tube bing disguised incognito
as the cingular "Ivan Ha Bea Robber Baron),"
while same above placed
their System Of A Down on high alert
whereby, they unwittingly, fortunately,
and accidentally discerned disquieting "noise"
i.e. static electronic crackling
purportedly from nemesis, asper sans above
whereby broadcasters colluded
confusingly, congruously, and convincingly
as thee infamous digital (duplicity)
faux "Big Mac" Trump.
The chalkboard scratching, hair sprayed bouffant,
and knuckle crackling
appeared tubby the handiwork cleverly disguised
(as tinpot dictator antics of Moscow's version,
sans Putin on the ritz),
which decrypted garble (a fluke) as iterated above
strongly emanating via polygamous,
prestigious, and pseudonymous
pull no punches ploy
innocently convincing feigned
duo code named "Ashley Madison and Bert"
disclosing (when uncovered),
a heartless conspiracy in concert
with Sesame Street studded lesser known Muppets
pretending tubby oil tycoon Bedouins
intent to fleece "sensitive"
top secret military defense contracts,
which Russian motley crue ace double agents
intended this act of espionage thence sabotage
feted as a Black Sabbath Lupercalia feint
not for the faint hearted clubby fete
where Cupid given free rule of the roost
allowing, enabling and proffering
Cyrillic chattering Cherubim
hook cooked United States "figurative goose"
lock, stock and barrel, which stratagem
captured president unawares
and did significantly boost
Eastern Bloc reconnaissance (on par
with the Philadelphia Eagles
winning 2018 Super Bowl LII
which surprise clenching championship
wrought frenzied hoopla, gala, and bacchanalia
where barenaked ladies
cavorted nsync with beastie boys,
whence City of Brotherly love hoopla found
nearly every man, woman and child soused
(analogous to each person garnering
an early Sainted Patrick's pot of gold.
I once read of a psychologist
her 1997 Yvonne Agazarian name
I can't quite LeftBrain recall
as our cooperative matriarchal
GroupTheory Ego/EcoGaming System,
sacredly ecotherapeutic--
restoring justice
as ego-theo-ecological peace.
Sacred, yet secularly securely proficient,
among deep learning WinStudents with WinTeachers
mutually secular-sacred Green
EcoTherapeutic Restoration Teacher Preachers
of HealthLeft-WealthRight flowing bilateral care
for WinWin dipolar WiseElder parents
sharing a reforesting ecoschool EarthTribe lesson ride
flying bicamerally through double-bound historic dipolar relational images
and cause-effect enculturations,
yet also swimming transgeneratively matriarchal amphibian
WinWin back toward pre-millennial re-acclimation tales of tails
and stories of winged restorations.
ZeroZone wombed
Virgin Mother Mary
shabbat paradise
reforesting ocean-boundaried Heavens
of flickering flight starlight
health-wealth nutritional Ego-EcoWisdom,
inside with outside sacred classrooms
within secularizing pathological LoseLose climates.
Left yang-deductive--SacredRight yin-inductive
EgoGod with or against DivineEco Gaian ZeroZone
resilience
polypathic nutritional resonance
theory of health-groups Left with RightWing
EgoPolitical
DNA inside
with Elder RNA outside classroom PositivEnergy flow
of nutritional polyphonic voices
singing EarthTribe's resilient healthy wealth--
in WinWin C-squared major matriarchal keys.
Here GroupTheory
and WinWin Green Cooperative RealTime Gaming Systems
co-invest ecopolitical language
polyculturally seen
and polynomially thought
and polyphonically sung
health resiliently and wealth resonantly meet
to deep learn fractally robust
ZeroZone
ecotherapeutic four-season planning
for polycultural outcome optimization
Including empowerment of Group Game Theories
to predict RealTime nutritional WinWin ZeroZone Design
for healthy-wealth
bicamerally evolving Ego/EcoSystemic
Bilateral Gaian Hypotheses.
All sacred things
work out
for the integrity
of EarthTribe's potential
health care--within
and yingiving--without
hoarding wealth.
the bittersweet silent story of my life age
fifty and nine automatically rebroadcast
in indelible (yet never washed out) beige
indistinguishably linkedin, when counting
the last three of seventy somber orbitz,
signify torturous custom made cage
whose darkening shades of gray
housed a weakened Harriet Harris,
an ashen corpse lay
no doubt a grown changeling dust play
a cruel trick, and soul of me mum didst slay,
so...tis with great difficulty aye write this poem today
cathartic to brush off self denunciation,
an albatross that dust way
heavily incriminating, ostracizing this mind of mine,
recurring every year comb May fourth a line
codifying, delineating, earmarking,
and doth likened
to elementary school Boyer
as in Henry Kline
no less painful reflection plus unavoidable,
hence this middle aged man lets feelings incline
toward self expression this anniversary
revisiting re: deign
upon memorializing general up beat
defiance at death of thine late mother,
where disease rabidly did eat
ting her til she expired,
this singular married heir
set himself a writing fete
wordlessly mouths never expressed greet
unbeknownst reeders gleaning my sentiments heat
ting recollected adieu bid prior,
whence she angrily wanted to meet
that accursed nemesis
against healthiness and repeat
cherished apothegm,
that existence offers no second act
as she relinquished slipping tenuous weak bract
leave ving ever fainter grip upon cracked
pommel of mortality, an immutable fact
thence black knight denounced, pounced, hijacked
trounced unannounced, vanquished, lacked
motive to rival nixed, extinguished sputtering pact
fast fading joie de vivre unspoken,
where death rattle racked
personal def tone accentuation tracked
subsequent self castigation,
excoriation nearly whacked
me to Timbuktu rebuking extolling bless
sing experienced from
this sole son for thirteen years, aye confess
when the inimitable Harriet Harris
"Our Destiny is to succeed"! "Our fate was set up through not being exposed to"NEW Knowledge",so that we would fail! Our "HOPE" was and "Still is in"GOD"! Our success was,and is realized,"after "Jesus Christ"through "GOD"blessed us to "Overcome Fate"! Those who held us back in "Knowledge""PRETENDED" to want us to be successful,while they knew that by holding back "Knowledge"we would meet,"THE FATE" that was hidden in a "LIE",to"CAUSE" our "FAILURE"!Richard Restak has helped to Reformat "The Brain "Hard Drive"! Now our destiny can be realized,as "Fate"has "Failed"!The setup menu is now corrected! The "Start program" is "NOW" valid! The hard drive has been reformatted! The back-up neurogenetic neurons are generating at top speed,and all viruses are being eliminated:The Ram and the Rom of the computer is being controlled by "Human Brain"input into "The Supper Computer"! All viruses have been eliminated,and "The Ram,and Rom are at top speed with "Terabyte Memory" in "The Ram,and The Rom" to prevent any "Scam" to prevent "The Computer Hacker from scamming,as "DESTINY"is "The Hacker Breaker",and is "The Hacker Packer"! Poetry is "The Exacter",and GOD love "The Hacker"! God love "The Hacker and "The Quaker": They "LABOR"and we all need to watch our behavior! We are fully operational! Fate has "LOST" due to our lack of trust in "THE TROJAN HORSE" placed in our path "TO BE EATEN",and swallowed "WHOLE"! It was totally consumed to give us a "Full Belly of Knowledge" of which it was "Holding Inside"! Now "The Digital,Analog,video,audio,"Encryptification"(DAVAE) has also been reformatted to give us the truth,after "Encriptification" has been achieved, through laser recognition,and M.R.I Technology,to see changed,video,audio,digital,analog,"LIES"to bring "THE GENETIC CODE"at hand as now "The central processing unit gives us another full belly of knowledge of which it will describe "KNOWLEDGE" in "Analog,Digital,Holographic,Genetic Code,without the truth being "Hidden"in a "Video,audio,Holographic,"Genetic Code Lie"! Victory over "The Enemy"Achieved"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Social Security Electronic Deposit ruff lee = A Dog Send!
Node out if Trump
pad hiz way...
this scrivener would
batten down in skidrow
with the missus,
the latter who would veto
such misery, none
the less, she would
most likely experience
a sense of helplessness too,
which poetic title just came
to mum mind, cuz panic
stricken thoughts rue
asper what if that figurative
wellspring of government
small largesse
(electronically deposited
beginning of each month)
dried up sue
sink lee forcing me out
onto the brutally cold
bleak domain queue
wing up to the next
available steaming manhole
sink or mebbe best firm
me tug hoe to Peru
walking all the
way there (devoid
of money, would disallow
choice to drive or access
public transit), ooh
such hardship would
constitute an offal
spell, which more
likely, would find me
dead aah with new
more hardship,
(yea of corpse
this chap joking,
but gallows hue
more about cease
sing to exists),
but forced at the
mercy of teenage mew
ninja turtles, or
worse...stuck in rat
infested hole in wall
smelling like a loo
hmm...juiced perhaps
rapping on the door
of a Synagogue, could allow
admittance for this
enthusiastic, basic atheistic
Unitarian, though of Jew
whoosh heritage,
though aye knew
nary a whit aboot Semitic culture,
I maze well high tail north
in search for cold
storage in an igloo
calling out across the
miles of frozen tundra
"YOU HOO...LUCY?...DESI?...
...ANY BODY HOME?" when
of course irritable bowel
syndrome kicks in putting
cramp on me glue
tee us maximus. finding
yours truly to ejaculate a stronger
expletive than "FOO,"
which utterance does absolutely
nothing to remedy, thus...
imagine this poet stranded in
the middle of nowhere
with mush aboot doo doo
on my mind, and/or
same in his pants!
There was once a daring man,
Ordained as the "Knight of Love",
How he came about his name
Is a tale still spoken of;
Leon had a friend, named Jim,
Who loved a girl called Christine,
She was a beautiful maid,
Born to the king and the queen;
Jim was a simple farmer,
No wonder the king was mad,
How dare a simpleton love
The princess, it was too bad!
But Christine loved her Jim too,
And that's where the problem lay,
She refused to wed a prince,
No one but Jim, come what may!
And here's where Leon came in,
His task to convince the king,
That Jim was a worthy man,
Though a farmer hardworking;
Disguised as a wealthy man,
He came to the king's palace,
Entertained the king with wit,
Proved himself without malice;
At night, during dinner time,
He sat down near the princess,
Slipped her a strong sleeping pill,
Soon she lost her consciousness;
The king feared for his daughter,
Called the best doctors around,
But try however they did,
She didn't wake up, made no sound;
A week, it passed by and still,
The princess remained asleep,
No one could find out the cure
For her unconsciousness deep;
Then, Leon said to the king,
"I think my friend can help her",
Thus, Jim was brought to the court,
And some herbs, he did refer;
Allowed to see his Christine,
Jim brought those herbs to her nose,
(While injecting antidote),
After five minutes, she rose;
The king was super happy,
Leon asked, "Where's Jim's reward?"
Jim asked for the princess' hand,
For having her health restored;
The king had given his word,
And had to agree to give
His daughter, Christine to Jim,
And happily they did live;
Leon was appointed knight,
And served the king thereafter,
He'd brought his friends together,
Their home was filled with laughter;
They called him their "knight of love",
And somehow the name got stuck,
It makes for a splendid tale,
How Leon changed Jim's love luck!!
8th January 2023
For Hilo Poet's "Metrical Tale" contest
Oh, where had my sweet love gone that morning
when later that day he’d met his death?
It was early January, cold and dreary
when he left unusually early without a word.
For days I wondered and I wondered
where my lover had gone!
A few days later his father came to me
bringing me as a token - the leather jacket
my lover had been wearing that horrid afternoon
when senselessly he had been killed
by a drunken reckless driver
as my lover used a crosswalk and got run down.
The night before his demise,
my love and I had kissed
underneath his umbrella in January’s rain.
I still recall him pressed against me
wearing that same leather jacket
which now I’m wearing as I walk home.
I press that leather jacket
tighter to my chest as I recall
how the whole world got washed away
that minute in the downpour that his lips met mine.
We’d run then to his apartment, flinging eagerly
our rain-soaked clothing to the floor.
Underneath the sheets, still cold and wet,
we passionately embraced.
How quickly I then warmed up
in my sweet lover’s arms.
His smile alone could always warm my soul.
He was my sun. He was my all!
The next morning when I awoke,
my love had already left. Never did I get
my usual call from him that afternoon.
Two days later I learned the reason why
when his father brought my lover’s jacket
and told me how his son had died.
So here I am now two weeks later.
Rain has begun to pour on this dreary day.
I let my fingers wander in the jacket pockets.
Something lies hidden beneath
the lining of one pocket; my fingers touch upon
a crumpled piece of paper! What can it be?
The small paper is a receipt from a jewelry store.
My love had apparently left early that fateful day
to purchase my surprise -a diamond engagement ring!
What happened to that ring? I will never know.
But that crumpled receipt reveals my lover’s secret,
and my tears fall bitter-sweetly with the rain.
1/12/2023
for Hilo Poet's Metrical Tale Poetry Contest
*Image of Tony Dow by News.
AUDIO
VIDEO of 500 Miles by Peter, Paul & Mary
Take Care Wally Cleaver
Wally: Watch the hair!
My faculties are under arrest!
I have been subpoenaed by a Board of Inquiry!
Namely, Mr. & Mrs. Parents of OMgoodness Boy!
Begins the questioning! (blah, blah, blah)
Ward: WHY!
Retorts!
Wally: But dad (blah, blah, blah)
Empathetic.
June: Well, why not?
In-kind.
Wally: Well, mom (blah, blah, blah)
Backroom deliberations begin!
Ward: Ohh! Don't give me that look!
June: But my dear he's just a kid?
Ward: I'll even accept the concept of a Billy the outlaw
as there is some hopeful measure of action,
good or bad, but that's not the conclusion you're
drawing is it, sweetheart?
June: I know I've been turning my back on this, and
once I've turned around, there you are, not a
happy camper, our families, friends, and
neighbors, are all staring back at me, so I've
decided to let you deal with him and I'll stand
by whatever the ruling you decide to enact.
Ward: Well, Mr. OMgoodness, we hereby sentence you
to collect all of your electronic devices and game
cartridges and put them in a large box, then
you're going to clean your room, the garage,
and the yard, then mow the lawn, rake the yard,
then water the plants, after you're done, take a
shower and come down for dinner.
Wally: Wow, that's what an execution feels like.
Ward: No, think of it as a life sentence.
Wally: (sigh!)
June: We love you, honey.
Wally: I know that mom.
Ward: Oh, and by the way, I want to see your computer
keyboard in that box and I'll come around when
you're showering to lock it up in the attic.
(Later that night)
Ward: Good night son.
Wally: Good night dad.
June: Good night honey.
Wally: Good night mom.
(Bedroom doors close, and a computer light comes
on as a young MIT wannabe, clicks on settings and
presses "Online Keyboard")
Whatta day! Brutal, just ... brutal!
It'll be a long night ...
Good night Beav!
2022 July 27
Because of it, we laughed as grass is green there is she common.
And I realized; how it is I this became, such implied to her with favor.
And being left off distant of, but near to her, I then became.
Whose teeth white flashed in the sun as she was now to show them.
--
I was drawn inside by her sweet minty breath, she 'made', as was it
I inhaled with each profound look, I rediscovered.
Lost then finally found within, dark caves of sound, so deep
and smooth, so rich and throaty, singing music all the time.
--
Never ravaged but by scotch and time and filtered cigarettes.
Though detached always above, I look again below it, such is an
undulation a visitation, invisible muscles, the sea is moving.
--
A young woman;
on the beach 'she' hurries past us saying,
drawing briefly it aside a red and white, pair of cheap sun glasses.
Made they 'said' in 'china' hot a sweating mask, I looked beyond it.
Bronzed this body made, I think of posies, confusing she with her.
--
"If your woman and the Mister' (wish to take it to the ocean,
does the lady and the Mister) 'wish to wash it lightly off?
One day, 'in time each grain of sand and foam, 'she did - politely ask?
--
I decided that if it comes when 'I'and if 'I' must,
that this next verbal jolt, 'when it hit' could fly a kite without a tail,
certain repercussions of those acute remarks, open cuts bleeding
might as hearts are won and then as thoughts be lost.
She with her and I, this afternoon could still may be, the sun so hot.
--
I concentrated on both, by my seat a well of deep emotions.
With a careful, deeper why, I trust my mind, too find it wonders.
Kept thus safe in time, inside I've grown to know and ponder why.
--
Wistful he for she/her much and subtle this my love, could be her double.
Once was I, of kind like mind, a person drifts at times so far away,
when life like that just walks away or simply floats right past us.
--
Then washed amongst the rocks and foam the wind it blew away.