Long Mimed Poems
Long Mimed Poems. Below are the most popular long Mimed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mimed poems by poem length and keyword.
Under the tree in Africa, we sap strength
from the songs of the sparrows before sunlight.
as we walk to the farm, the
morning breeze brush our
body from the billowing branches.
We pick up our hoes and cutlasses
and keep our basket and calabash,
the big Agbadas of the elders and our little
catapult hang on the bole as we plough and plant.
Under the tree in Africa we relish
the radiance of reality as we rest
after the rigor of raising ridges.
we break the dried branches to make fire
to roast the harvested maize;
we stroll with the spirits as we slumber,
listening to the whispers of the wind
and wake up to feast on the roasted maize
with some cold water from the serene stream.
Under the tree in Africa we share
the shield of shadows,
shying away from the sun
as we walk back to the village.
We use our traps to tame birds;
making some meat available mama's,
meal by moonlight, throwing stones at some
ripe fruits we have a feel of freshness
and get some fruit for friends and family,
we get locked in luck as we get lots of grains
and goodies that gives us passion and pride.
At twilight, under the tree is a place to be in Africa,
the elders drink from the cup of culture.
Passing the calabash with love; there is enough Palm
wine and bush meat to go round,
quarrels are settled, feuds are finalized as the echoes
of the evening resounds.
The day's delight are shared, friendships are
found and formed as fresh fragrance flows.
The children chant with vibrating voices, moral
melodies are mimed with clapping of hands under
the tree in Africa.
Graceful games and spirited sports go on as
communal creeds cruise in their conscience.
The elders feed their seeds with the water of wisdom
as they share folktales and facts,the children are charged to
be charming as they listen to the tales by moonlight..
In Africa the women sings with virtuous voices
as they make mats, beads, basket and raffia
under the tree.
nursing mothers keep their sucklings on the mat
for the cool breeze to caress their soft skin,
at twilight, women roll out local pots, mortal and pestle,
to prepare pounded yam and melon soup for their household,
as the food-is-ready alarm sounds, folks and friends
gather to dine and wine as the moon peeps through
the leaves under the tree in Africa.
Murmur no things
or strings of sounds...
Could not care less
more-ish whispers
were Wicked
Whips of Words-
Weighted.
Tongue- lashing sharp
fork- tine Torture.
Cat-0-nine-one-one-tales...
Thirty-nine...
Forty-less-one
thrashing...
thrashing...
Thrashing...!
P
l
u
m
b
l
i
Cut, then
Spliced
r
a
m
aught - 0 - matic -ally
u
t
t
e
s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d and s-t-r-u-n-g out
taut ~O~ill~O~gee~call
sayings S-P-L-A-Y-E-D out.
Taught NO one
any thing
new
Knew hear-say-
Say! Did you hear THAT???
(Did YOU know...?)
? :-0 ? :-o ? :-0 ?
Oh Oh...
Tongues plaited and tied
Gutless intentions
Implied
Allied...
Bound between mongers
pitted
unpitying
Pitbulls against distraught,
double-bind on-slaughter
pale-faced pugilism
mimics
Mummery and mimed thoughts
~acted~out~
played O-U-T
OUCH!
Bought into
Hearts wrung out
bloodless
Bloody hands wringing
in Delight-
Delighted!
de-lighted...
Delight-Full?
Murmur nothing
need less>>>>>>
Need less to say
" it" @ All.
Hot of the press,
hot air blows
seeds of doubts
s-OW-n n-OW!
Profuse Grrrrr- OW-th
Hot-head heed-less
not Grrrrr- OW-n up.
Groans are unmouthed
sounds
sown shut :-
No more hurt
Feelings
Hidden
Humiliation's humus
Not humorous.
Hideous "justice"
bids
Blurts be bought
at a price-
Caught out
Pulled-up-Pule
short-circuits
short-changed
~my~O~my
~chained~
~thrashing~it~out.
thrashed...thrashed....Thrashed!
within an inch
~~ ~~~'~ ~~~~...
nihil -is-tic
parsitic
Tick-Tacky-Town
Game of noughts.
Game of cross thoughts..x-O
Game's off-
Colour two- tone
Voice
Not "giving lip"-
Zipped~~~
:-O gains nil
By Mouth.
:- naught -:
nada
null
X
void
O
14-07-2017~Aqua Marine.
My dear ones, years and accounts have passed since we spoke about the New Man, "Le Horla."
From the midpoint of the Reset cycle, it is known to emerge from the mix of slaves and technology.
Rudolf Steiner knew, the beginning of vaccination, non-foods prepared in the shadows of the times.
The control of the masses through technocracy, a vision of the 1900s when the world was slowly transforming.
Under the influence of drugs, Hitler saw prophetic nightmares, screaming in fear before "Le Horla,"
A fearless and cruel monster, a presence deeply haunting the collective social subconscious.
Poe, in 1840, sensed that autistic presence in crowds frightened by the mysterious inexplicable,
And Bulwer-Lytton, through "The Coming Race," showed us the way to a future full of uncertainties.
I merely connected the threads, for geniuses often reveal the hidden truth in the folds of time.
We lament the lack of empathy, the mimed emotional life in public space, a theater of our days.
"Le Horla" spreads, USR, a symbol of technocratic times, an experiment of the present.
A nano-metallic transhumanist nervous system, beyond which only Zombies can survive.
Zombies, USR members integrated into the 5G network, coordinated by towers watching from the shadows,
Soldiers of an unchosen destiny, in a world led by the deepest and darkest shadows.
Remember the '50s, when the danger wasn't in vaccines but in the hunger and fear that reigned,
Today, technological terror and transhumanists bring us times of darkness and fragments of hope.
The worst satanists lead, and strategic starvation is just the beginning of a story.
Under the command of 5G, group intelligence manifests like drones drawing messages in the sky.
A trans 5G USR member becomes an appendage of the Beast, an eye on the ground for its unrest.
And yet, in this nightmare world, there is still a chance, a thread of light in the dense darkness.
Once upon a time, my life was a fairytale.
I didn’t see anything wrong with it.
Then I opened my eyes.
And saw all the previously hidden ****.
Once upon a time, a was a happy, young child.
I was innocent, and gullible as well.
Then I grew two feet, two years.
I realized I was living in hell.
Once upon a time, I lived where Barbies where the “thing.”
I loved them and Bratz dollz and even more.
Now I live where people call others,
People on the internet they don’t even know, whores.
Once upon a time, I lived in a happy place.
Everyone was friends, we all got along.
Now I notice, that it was an act.
That I was totally wrong.
Once upon a time, In a land far far away,
I was happy, I was free. I was a great friend.
Not any more I say,
Whatever is good or bad, eventually comes to an end.
But that was all, once upon a time.
What about now?
Do I need to rhyme,
Or do I need to shout?
Yes, that was all, once upon a time.
Where I was pure, and loved.
Now it’s all mimed.
I’m a dirty, and shoved.
Of course, that was all, once upon a time.
It couldn’t be now. NO, it had to be hell.
We will be judged, all in due time,
Right now I just want to yell.
Because.
Once upon a time, I got myself dressed.
In my girly pretty clothes, that I showed off.
My hair shiny, my skin soft.
Now, that I’m older, I’m so depressed.
And in that time, where I got dressed,
I was giggling, and blessed/ But now that I’m older.
I am stressed.
And even though I’m stressed, I’ve gotten bolder.
Oh, once upon a time, you were like that too.
Had an identical life, everyone loved you.
Let me tell you something my friend.
All what’s good, must come to an end.
Form:
Placed 10th in the contest 2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 13 by Mark Toney. Contest was judged on September 3rd, 2025~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Afrobeats played in the background,
his sweet breaths drying my sweat.
Palmwine sat on his shaky left palm.
Then he said the nonsense
that drunk men usually mutter—
an alcohol-soaked “I love you.”
He came within arm’s length,
already reeking
of eight calabashes of liquor.
The drink painted his handsomeness
into
a mocking caricature of a clown.
His trembling right hand brushed my chest.
I felt good—
as if the hot tropical sun was frozen,
and my heart raced
to his sheepish smile.
My feet quaked as sweat soaked my shoes.
The ground vibrated under dancing legs,
from the overcrowded clubhouse
minding its own business.
“African Calypso!”
thundered an inebriated fellow,
his chorus landing ten seconds earlier
than the mimed song.
My new guy copied him.
He dragged me to the dance floor.
We were both drunk,
so we both fell over.
Bottles of palmwine broken,
calabashes shattered.
Everything was messed up—
except the Afrobeats,
the only joy that remained.
Induced Interludes
Twilight disrobes a soundless star
It claims some gentler theme from me
Caught lingering in a unified bestilled embrace
Beneath a unique spotlight of its gleaming afterglow
gently now, gently
thus footprints bare none
alight butterfly rest on a finger
spilled words occasions the breeze
the gist of me shadows alongside jaguars
Morning star glint after dawns flow
Challenge arranges yet another measure
An opportune solemn hymn ingratiates breaths
Stages of a day follow blissfully edge to edge quietly
gently now, gently
a better course grace me
fingertip traces a fashioned grin
a made verse set rhythmically whispers
a softly caressed infant coos towards silence
Sunsets a mimed score entertains
Review disciplined superbly portrayed
Persuades descending rays an eyeful adieu
Nightwings greet dusk, whorls up into absence
gently now, gently
ebb star pivots another
penitent pose cradles prayers
pointed at fingers in lieu of sheeps
eyes seals behind dreams, genteel cast...
Mama's Golden Pond Cried
Mama loved to chew
off the Golden Pond
bone
chew the fat
of their autumn leaves,
dressed in splendor,
a scenic lake and cabin,
her pseudo stage,
of her new found barbies,
smiling at her
smile they did
so minted the american dream,
their lives golden.
These.
These
pocketed keepsakes she kept
next to the chip
on her shoulder.
Yet her music plays
ill forgotten lore and simile
of her family and children,
scruffy unkempt dogs
she never proud,
she drummed over and over,
her catch phrase.
We watched the movie
long ago,
in her element,
in her tempo,
bated breath,
tears falling
and detached.
Yet her music plays
so content
and spawning such a fondness
in her heart,
of them rowing a boat,
aging, golden.
Yet her music plays
sadly
in her heart
of emptiness
at home
dying,
lifeless grey eyes.
Yet, so steely
her song
snow blind of her son
sitting next to her
in the darkening theater,
her wintry chill,
so indigenous,
taking life hostage.
Just my child
her teeth
chattering
to piano keys
playing,
playing in her concerto
dancing on golden pond...
such a waste her lips mimed.
Her keys.
And mine sink low.
... Just my child
she sat akimbo,
in silhouette,
tears I imagine,
and her voice
... and her voice
once icy then
now a scar,
a ghost,
... scruffy come here.
connie pachecho
6/30/17
Grinding you in the coal black mortar of my expectations,
I know your substance is not one to powder under impact
And yet I work here, feverish, to prove my trepidations wrong
I grind you, harder against the walls, and you never powder,
You are shards of glass, getting smaller and smaller,
Cutting through the walls, straight into my skin
I cry out in a thousand minuscule pains,
As you enter mercilessly into my bare flesh
Tinkles flair as the wind blows upon the incisions
I sparkle in the night of our plight,
Terrorized by the horrors I have constructed,
Toying with you… you…the finesse tool to my agonies
You gained control of me like a mimed puppet master,
The binds I had tightened upon you asphyxiating my sanctuaries,
Tied along you, and twined around me
Silent, smiling, seething…
You begged me to scream
Your glass shards icing into my pupils, through my brain,
And out into the recesses of all my verbalized fears
I shove the remaining shards into my fleeting sight,
A hawk screeching, being stabbed in the eyes by its own feathers
Expelling blood and tears …matter and might,
All I wanted to do was finally see you…
To take in the scent of my grounded version of you
So long though had I whiffed in the potent poison you always were,
Too long, as it no longer has the same effect my nostrils numb for…
Nocturnal go betweens as I wish wonder why and
pine and ponder the thrill of you, in-sensed
enraged plight unforgiving unkind-blistered
human frality relentless fingers grip and squeeze
the terrified emotion from a craving heart strong
with beaded bridled ********; unsustained in a
pisstrom of anxious delight paradise lost with a fabled man
truth sick honesty no trip to bountiful bliss
love lost passion dismissed and the threat of
a dismantled ego leanloins in jerked off ruins. No
feelings everfelt inherent in the now metaphor of existent
fervor of that which I place myself in the present
tense of future fear yearnings. My skull, cosmic of crippled
cell thoughts---transient trenchings. Forbid my manual range
inept incomplete incoporeal disavowed--I wishI mayIwishImight
have the wish I-------------------Eternity Heights
upscaled past reason's dictates a surrender gorge.
regardless of quicksand times and blows dealt
regardless of "life goes on"--stop-leave-don't outcomes
regardless of mirror mimed politicolove entgrails whom shout "NO"
from their lovelung tops of false de-saintitty thesis. On&on&on
from charm to harm all in drop C alphabet olleyolleyinfree stew.
Slowly I lose a little more cranial fragment appetitie at yesterday's
testicular terminal power love lost lunch.
Another naked being for the mating composite heap. Next!
Time Changed Words
Olden days
Days so golden
Golden then
Then not at all
All wish them so
So wished away
Away in time
Time was quite lost
Lost daydream style
Style your hair
Hair style is new
New slim fit blouse
Blouse blue is mind
Mind your step
Step two at a time
Time won't stop
Stop standing still
Still I did fear
Fear strange new days
Days after days
Days traveled past
Past my dates
Dates time words
Words not distilled
Distilled new words
Words now renewed
Renewed words mimed
Mimed well this time
Time blink blinks
Blinks twice then waits
Waits a few minutes
Minutes pass fast
Fast paced life
Life still goes on
On and on
On a roll
Roll out change
Change changes words
Words you did say
Say stay in line
Line up your mouth
Mouth just good things
Things might change
Change the past
Past changes sight
Sight softens views
Views not the same
Same things so true
True words spoken
Spoken gently
Gently does it
It can work
Work it out
Out damned spot
Spot the difference
Difference is just that
That love is kind
Kind loves kind words
Words changed by time
Time in the present
Present time changes words
Words should be golden
Golden not Olden Days.
First posted 30/1/2015
Has a note saying it's "Chain Verse" (Not sure?)
Seems similar to Blitz format.
Aqua. M Poems.
Form: