Long Mien Poems
Long Mien Poems. Below are the most popular long Mien by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mien poems by poem length and keyword.
I generally mean mine mien mental state
moost occasions heavily marinated stupor
long established as external trait
psychologically time tested trooper
impossible mission to kickstart sanity
doppelgänger regularly revisits his soul asylum
hellbent antimatter he cannot vitiate
despite therapeutic laxative merely exhausts
well bred literate smoking doobie brother
eliminating aforementioned pablum
witnessed courtesy one floundering grouper
among plenty of fish schooled
hyphenated (high finned haggled)
burn hushed scaled poem
courtesy one unionised rebellious party pooper.
Spellbound with colossal mental grippe
(i.e. all-consuming figurative cerebral
obsessive compulsive forced membership)
magnetic resonance imagine indicated jagged blip
and/or nsync microscopy
showed telltale genetic authorship
regarding above stated mental health crisis,
whereby Sigmund Freud analyst did flip
lid freeing leeches imported courtesy Philip
Hansel and Gretel a mere slip
o' lass whose nose she always did turnip.
Sabotaging orbitofrontal communication incorporating connection between anterior cingulate gyrus cortex heightening activity bridging (via atom sized pontoon bridges) greater activity upon basal ganglia, which synoptic description does nothing to alter the predisposition to ingress of uncontrollable imbecilic, inexplicable, and illogical fixation particularly during onset of puberty, when an emotional kamikaze nose dive at the nadir of near lifelessness, the shadow of me former self nowhere tubby found on account of deadly symbiotic relationship asper the invisible nemesis – i.e. electrical impulses faux nattering nabobs of mien nativity whereat unseen thriving sensational riffraff quenched powerhouse ousting nestled milkmaids, or rather pressing said resources sans vitality into dangerous, frivolous, and horrendous self destructive antics, where ballistic charges drugged eminent domain former nerve cell size occupants, thoroughly re-engineering sense and sensibility with pride fullness and prejudice on par with dousing one with an opiate that completely upends functioning healthily, judging lovingly, and managing productively versus expending precious time and energy self absorbed into manic, neurotic, and/or psychotic actions, manners, thoughts, et cetera, which irrationality got embedded within the neurological interstices, which even as of this moment hound me akin to wild beasts circling ever closer to launch mortal kombat against their very housing.
Listen...carefully,
and ye kin hear
the muffled (dollar us -
dolorous) sound ache
king plaintive very loosely
analogous to duck cry
of mourning, didst awake
ken to the somber news
solemnly shared by
me - Doctor Quackenbush,
sans strapping beefcake
quaking counterpart, thee
lifetime beau he mien
(rhapsodic) paramour got betake
hen to "Heaven's Gate,"
after getting bitten
by a blacksnake,
which squished, slithered, and
shimmied secretly stole
said tasty morsel without brake
king (her/his) stride,
and dug poisonous
(scorpion like) fangs
geese hilly as
one would slice cake,
which revelatory brief
anecdote mentioned cuz,
this medical professional caretake
person, (whose doppelganger
quadruples, i.e. moonlights
as an expert 1. cheesecake
maker, 2. fisherman known
far and wide (across four
compass points of the globe)
as one awesome clambake
expert, 3. seismograph specialist
predicting, where and
when an earthquake
will strike, and 4. hide
bound blithe tanner preparing
leather made goods,
particularly handsome wallets
(sewn from snake skin),
the most popular item
(possibly because, one crisp Benjamin
Franklin legally tendered
secreted within a pouch),
thus upon cutting open
(preparation for crafting bill folds)
this one well fed squamate,
lo and behold
revealed poor soul mate,
which family member
Anatidae resembled friedcake.
Tired of feeling sleepy today - August 17th, 2019
Lashed with fatigue,
eye cannot fend off lethargy
hazy, hot, humid weather zaps
mental physical, and spiritual energy
even men of cloth
various and sundry clergy.
Undoubtedly summoning Parson Brown
currently out of season,
though stratospheric demand
for his person now
unprecedented as summer
dog days force physical slowdown,
nonetheless he would
experience immediate meltdown
booked solid throughout
"Winter Wonderland,"
when deep freeze
doth make clampdown,
no matter sung by masses
with uncertain reason
caroling 'bout said enigmatic figure
heard in every hamlet
or sprawling boomtown
belted clear as bell
o'er nor'easter howl
undeterred by polar vortex windblown
chilling atlas shrugged
off undaunted facedown
weathering arctic blast
making snow angels
comfortably numb jollity reverses frown
even elderly folks
sport about though grown
spry stick figures shoveling tunnel
courtesy white blanketed lockdown
"careful ma am" not
to fall on keister or crown.
Presence of said parson
linkedin with spate
of blizzard conditions and
Frosty the Snowman,
whose power to bring society
to standstill will not abate
proof positive to commander
in chief who cannot extricate
whether from climate, and trumpets
what he doth cogitate
dismissing global warming -
calling out "end of debate"
twill usher doomsday, cuz he
and trolling henchmen skate
on thin ice, and whose
dawdling crass, base
actions only accelerate
day of wreck conning
when most species will
lack mien ways to acclimate
all the more rhyming reason
to bid mortality adieu
and slumber permanently
battened down hatches
with me sigh ease oompa loompa mate.
.
arrrr
remember crow'z
that
nest mine pretty
thoze
bellowz
fight'n thuh
'gainst
westerly windz
such mien
thuh
each yourn pout
yourn wench
grin scowl
cast
venting
arrrr
')>
hahahaha
arrrr
There are scanty men of tasty rhyme.
Shakespeare is dead and Marlow has gone with time,
Tennyson is under the soil and Holmes is no more;
Bunyan will never live again, and where is Poe?
I miss the verse of Nahum Tate,
A man stolen by the tides of fate.
I wish I could behold the mien of Coleridge,
Or see Longfellow musing upon a lonely bridge!
Now the uncoursed apprentices of this superior art
Have been left to dash hither and thither,
Knowing not which word to choose,
Chasing in vain some erratic Muse.
They say that little boats ought to keep the shore
And that larger ones may venture more.
I vote to labor on hot days and lonely nights,
I choose to rob myself of sleep and such basic rights
And attempt to fill these gaping gaps.
I seek no gain on this sorrowful earth,
I labour to earn some mystic mirth
When warmed by the blissful wings of death;
When its vanished the deceitful pride of breath.
Let no man recognize me for my plaintive works
While I'm on this earth of muddy murks!
Quiet, the leaves drip from slender woody fingertips
as shadows cast spectral dreams that breath through misty lips.
In the deep the Sylvan rests against the hoary staff he grips
and feels the ancient magic flow between the rune filled tips.
Taken from a Willow tree on summer moon's eclipse
from gnarled knots, the life it gives, his body freely sips.
Across a knoll he slowly strolls like honey as it drips
as hungrily he eats a fruit and buries all the pips.
From which will grow new tender shoots and supple grassy whips
offering once more to him the sustenance he snips.
The world he knows mysterious and old, his life but an ellipse,
going round and round he trod the ground on his lonely trips.
When he meets the Mountain Lions he bows from bended hips
to show respect and fealty for their regal mien and kingships.
And too, the venerable and stately Oak respectfully he dips,
but as old friends, they laugh and smile with jokes and clever quips.
Evening comes through tired eyes as through the sky the sun rips
tearing through to rainbow hues in brushed on colored strips.
As the night exudes from day, the dark oozes like chocolate dips
in which the fairy, sylph and sprite flies, sings and skips.
But, at the end of each sullen day beneath sweet buds he slips
Folded in their tranquility and ever loving friendships.
05/15/2016
Professor Abdul Kalam the luminous brilliant star
I pay homage to you from here in Dar
Great brill scientist in the field of Aerospace
A noble man with an intellectual mien and grace
Aeronautics and more were his speciality wow!
He's referred to as India's best known nucleur Scientist.
An inventive mind has passed away now
Lets celebrate and commemorate a great catalyst
He did India proud and did a lot for her
All Indians who know him will concur
Elected as her great President as well
Sad now to bid him adieus and farewell
Yay, the Indian soil has now a brilliant hero in her bosom indeed
I adoringly salute this great man of my race and my creed.
When a scientist dies it is a great loss for us all
May God raise more like him after his inevitable fall
But he can now repose in heaven's lap
On earth though he has left a mighty gap.
God I believe, loves those who utilise His gift of brains
Meditation releases us from earthly fetters and chains
Science and learning works your mind ; the brain needs exercise too
So I thank God for scientists , for scientific minds
That help to illuminate and enlighten this world, for me and you.
I Asked Myself A Rhetorical Question...
Asper daily expounding fostering
inchoate manifesting mod
er writ writing quality,
solitary scrimmage tackling
undertaking, yielding whir
ring, sputtering, kickstarting, and
buzz-feeding at competitive, communal
crowed did metaphorical trough,
where household named author's
top New York Times best seller
tier, overshadowing under
rated genre bending, breakout aspiring,
story board qualifying,
opportunistic newbie man
use script artful dodgers
mere dust collecting drafts,
anticipating to stir infectious interest
incumbent - at mercy,
tripwire activating quint
essential key, which anchors print
ting projected uncertain
popularity first edition,
awakening, guiding, nosing
asymptote analogy steering
reader toward nascent
scribe, where paper
back writer wannabe,
toils away incorporating subtle
(hook, line and sinker) techniques,
(albeit apropos literary
ploys, a true test tum ment,
viz sophisticated gambits
to massage late tint
prestidigitation abra ca dab rah,
sine non qua cogent
see kant, and tangent triggers
modest mien fortified, exemplified,
and downplayed akin
to unassuming Clark Kent
in his cape ably nonchalant
transformation into superman,
and/or more pointedly,
some original heft leant
to set apart striking
poignant implement
exhibited by aspiring
writer daily revising,
albeit gal or gent
his/her uniquely obscure
trademark, but
eventually keen agent
assays non-boastful writing style
im prim mature print,
sans unassuming swiftly tailored
harried style seduces seek
curing sincere overnight reverent,
well deserved kudos
comically marveling
at thee most im portent
salient strengths, per
hops hue moored opulent
quality instigates
affinity toward nascent,
bar riddle be, bill leading,
bud ding scrivener,
not necessary alluding
to a hypothetical outlier
thus, any similarity between the
above statement and
a living person perchance named
Matthew Scott Harris
purely coincidental.
[don’t be surprised;
life is nothing but layer after layer of time, standing still,
they are shadows marching with dignified mien but no truth in them]
someone said if you stand atop a mountain
you’ll be able to see a broader view and things
as they are, I dashed through the gentle slopes out of breath
climbed up a steep mountain struggling;
the view looking down from a summit was nothing
because the earth looking down from the mountain
was laying under clouds, covered with heavy fogs
someone said if you drift along with water
rely on its flow, you’ll find the core key of life
just as corners of stones are worn away by the current,
I jumped into the water without hesitation and went with the current;
but I was swept away into the rapids, hit by the corners of the stones,
whirled about the muddy river bed; I found myself still struggling to escape from life’s routine
someone said if you soar high and hover in the air
the end of the world will come into your hand’s reach;
I flew to the highest end of the sky flapping with huge wings
made from illusion, when the world though, came into my hand
alas, it was nothing but nil
someone said if you stand still with humility
no one will harass you, but as they pass, simply bow;
I lowered myself as much as I could, the men passed
insulting me on the way of looking down on me
as if saying “this good for nothing incompetent fellow”
leaving scornful expressions behind; even so, I suffered patiently,
before knowing, I became nil without sounds,
[nonetheless; don’t be bothered by all those detestable experiences
you went through because life is nothing but lie after lies mounted
moving thru time, a heap of standstill time; it’s nothing but a parade of
the blank-faced dark shadows]