Long Monstrously Poems
Long Monstrously Poems. Below are the most popular long Monstrously by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Monstrously poems by poem length and keyword.
Marvelous Maxine Hunkel, heroine cyclone,
With her amazing power gets anyone blown...!
Through her abductor scientist Morrow the mad,
With vast violent velocity she got clad...!
Her simple sneeze could destroy her granny’s garage,
She could sleep in tornado as though in mirage...!
She could dare the very Captain America,
As though overpowered by nude nostalgia...!
The offensive whirlwind she could, like wind-gust, strike,
Could be cool like breeze, she could also turn deathlike...!
Noh-Varr, the non-hurt, Cyclone could deadly damage,
Tough turbulently tense tempers she could manage...!
Hulkling, the sovereign of the odd outer space,
Cyclone could hit easily with her ace-pace raze...!
Though operations of Cyclone Cyclops could know,
He could be, yet, shaken by her dazzling deathblow...!
Beast, the monstrously dysderids Dracula dies,
Of Cyclone's torrential terror hits and fast flies...!
Daredevil who could brutally stand all alone,
Could not stand alone against lone flown Cyclone zone...!
Could Hank Pym defeat Cyclone by his pert power?
Who does cower, dour, glower, shower and tower...???
24 November 2022
Moon Knight Friend or Foe 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
I guess, a poet's answer
to most everything in life
is, more poetry! Broken
heart, write a poem.
Broken leg, a few more
verse lines to cast. Pipe
breaks, dog bites the neighbor
potential for poetic lines to
savor -- Poetry, poetry, blah,
blah, blah. Woe is me. Doubt
that I will ever be free, in clear
sanity, outside of poetry. Even
my prose, the twitch of my
nose monstrously shows the
presence and influence of
poetry. Bet my yellowish
urine flows are somehow leaks
of poetry. Though I guess, others
think there is greater mess, than
poetry. Ah!~ a potential business
enterprise: Poetry Scoopers! To
market to all you likewise impacted
Poetry Poopers.
Robust Vulpine is cruising vigorously
To denude a life and continue slavery
Proudly displaying his name of foul entity
Afraid not of his blasphemy
From time to time he is very gluttonously
Sweet foods for the sinners were eaten constantly
Voices from nowhere were weeping frantically
Yet he managed to laugh at much monstrously
"Help" was the shout of voices anonymously
For a number of sheep were killed unpitily
Taken off their hearts and skin so mercilessly
And wear the sheep's jacket for another journey
Villains will succeed in anyway now badly
That never get jaded in any play madly
Abused the creator's being imprudently
For the way that he acted, to God he was angry
Whatever crop he sow, he will reap exactly
Worm-wood will come to his presence so much timely
So inevitable hundred times painfully
That he'll remember the pains tearfully
Form:
Sinister snarling swindling scandalous scoundrels secretly slither shamelessly
Implicitly interrogated ‘bout innermost insidious illegitimate impertinences
Ghastly Grotesque grimacing gumption gorging gruesome gimmicky gossip
Netherworld’s nauseating narcissistic nefarious nature nibbling at naiveté
Obnoxious oppressors outrageously ostracizing offspring to oblivion
Facetiously fondling flip flutter floundering their frayed frazzled foibles
Tyrannical temperamental tempestuous tumultuous targeting tallying triviality
Haphazardly harnessing halfhearted heinous hypocritical homicidal hatred
Exploiting embezzling extricating explicit evil entangled ephemeral effrontery
Tetrad of treacherous tyrannical tycoons tackle tantamount transfigurations
Implicit intermittently incoherent infernal insanity idling illicit insidious insolences
Malicious misanthropic madmen monstrously manipulating mangling mercilessly
Erroneous euphemisms explicitly eclipsing evolving estranged etiquette’s eulogy
Staggering systematic spiritual stagnation symbolizing society’s sign of the times
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on April 22, 2018 for contest SIGN OF THE TIMES sponsored by JOHN HAMILTON - RANKED 4TH
Integral Therapeutic Practice (ITP),
brought to us by Ken Wilbur,
and systems theoretical colleagues,
responds, with win/win communication skills,
to chronic RightWing/LeftBrain dominant
nihilistic narcissistic
predative colonizing
win/lose trauma,
personal local
and also international
Earth global
Anthro-supremacist
monotheistic
monocultural
monopolistic
monstrously unchanging violence
rooted in Patriarchal political
and Capitalist economic
oppression
of universal-unitarian
peace restorative
ecofeminist worldviews
Emerging liberal loving
and green conservational
ego/eco
inside/outside
concave/convex
bilaterally systemic
Co-passionate health and safety
grows Earth-Tribally
panentheistic
organic
sacred communionation,
eco-political creolization
Synergetic Health Practice
is root chakra sacred
EarthMother positive attachment centered
in mind/body integral
inside ego-spirit
outside eco-nature
co-passioning indigenous wisdom
Featuring Holonic Open EarthSystem
polyculturally deepening
and co-empathic widening
worldview wealth
Restoring humane mental health care
giving Yang strength
while receiving Yintegral Therapeutic Practice
Practice inhaling
then exhaling
ReConnecting in/ex-haling
win/win revolutions
nurturing Golden HealthCare Rules,
doing inside
what you would also appreciate
from outside
ReLigioning synergetic
multicultural mind/body silent songs
and cosmic moon-raising dances
of bicameral hearts
with bi-hemispheric minds
co-passioning
Sacred EarthHealing Practice
cooperative practice
co-investment practice
Ecological wealth development
practiced again
revolving again
spiraling deep soul universal
wide-natured unitarian
panentheistic integrity again
Organic resilience again
Regenerative health care
practicing win/win
yang/yintegral
reiterative communications
revolving holy EarthTribe communion
again
Remaking Earth
liberal in polycultural loving
conserving cooperative communications,
healthy again...
Lumina’s Light
Light had faded in reflection from start to finish bitter battered final end
Bright mirror’s prisms a blinding darkened prison in her luscious name
Long lost love conceived in lust and lustre looming large from liquored loins
Undone contaminated utterly unscripted used usurped unleashed by man in
Manic malice corrupted massacred monstrously moving through murky mud
Innocent inconceivably conscripted to illness indecision incisive icicles imbibed
No nascent numinous naivety just noxious narrative concealed in naked novelty
Arrived at audacious ardour converted authenticity anticipated from her axes
Life had burnt Lumina’s candle at both ends from start to finish in a never ending
Loop towards atrocity and back from awful angst to loops and loops of loneliness
Long last she searched her name for lighter meaning for Life Ubunthu Magnitude
Illustrious Namely Absolution and shone in radiant light of who she truly was
26th July 2017
You never ignore yourself.
You....a finger pointing nowhere.
You flap; make waves,
what else you got?
A flashy kite with no sky
that's what.
If a vulture and a jellyfish
gave birth to an offspring,
they would name it: Ego.
A monstrously beautiful blob was told
what it was and was not,
the term, 'monstrous blob,'
was, of course, never mentioned.
Identity rose up like a hissing cobra,
the blob believed what it was told.
First thoughts set like concrete.
Ego always thinks that everyone is against him,
even when they are applauding him,
it was always nothing more than an airbag,
that could be easily inflated or deflated.
Great and talented egos arose:
Gehgis Khan, Aristotle, Starlin, Copernicus
Mozart, Julius Caesar, and, of course, you -
all sprung from that parent trap.
The good the bad, the oppressed
and victors, all the winged jellyfish
floating through time
and most everyone
never once ignoring themselves -
not for one moment.
Fly away eagle, swim away jellyfish,
heaven and hell were always inside us,
and we never guessing,
that we were this monstrously beautiful
bag of wind always likely to burst,
if one day
we got lucky.
If he had boarded the frail proud lady,
My ancestor would have been a hysteric.
It would have been nothing new to him, though —
Boarding such a mighty vessel
With an unsinkable testimonial.
He had been on board Noah’s ark
For more than 40 days and 40 nights —
The first-ever lockdown in the first-ever
Flood pandemic.
He would have consulted an oracle before boarding
Lady Titanic,
To ascertain the position of the sinking stars,
And of course the position of the damned iceberg —
That monstrously frigid, vengeful, whitish monster,
Sitting like a proud humongous harlot on
The wavy vestibule of the docile North Atlantic.
He would have winced loudly from the cruel cold of
A bland and unforgiving April.
The Atlantic would have seemed so small to him,
Having floated on many oceans-in-one during
Uncle Noah’s wayward flood.
Things would have been different.
He would have sent off a dove and a raven
Before The Titanic set sail, to survey the grottos of the Atlantic.
The birds would have returned with news of the ocean,
Bringing tales wrapped in olive leaves, of any old
Scrimmage between the waves
And the iron foot of the jealous iceberg.
That would have been BREAKING NEWS,
Written BOLDLY in RED,
The colour of sea-danger, sea-terror . . . .
Things would have been different!
Perhaps The Titanic would have plied the reverse side of
The Atlantic . . . You know! . . . The less slippery side.
Less frenetic and less troublesome, and with no icebergs,
No matter how frigid the weather, in that flustered April,
Which my ancestor would have primarily called The Fourth Moon.
Yes! . . .
Sailing stealthily behind the Atlantic; the other side of it less travelled,
Cautious of the envy of the destroyer known euphemistically as Iceberg.
True . . . !
Like visiting the moon via the reverse side . . . ! Where the craters are
Perpetually on night shift . . . .
And things would have been different.
Lest I forget: a Greek ancestor would have brewed coffee with seawater.
And if greenish bubbles bobbed about, he would rather have hailed a barque.
an awesome
benevolent blowy breeze
cleverly concealed, contrived
dastardly deeds of destruction
expressing excitement and enthusiasm
for faithful forever forest firs
giving giant gusts gorgeous guesses
however hardy hemlock heralded heavy happiness
independently indulged, indigenous illuminations illustrated
juxtaposed joyous jumping jiggly junipers
kibitzing killer kleptomaniacal kittens
lounging luxuriously as lemon laughing laborers lollygagged
making monstrously melodic memory music
nebulously needing neverland’s notorious Neptune
Ostentatiously ogling oleander’s offending odors
Promoting promenading, prick preening pines
Quashing quarrelsome Quixotic quails quickly
Reaching Red Oaks’ rhyming rhythm
Securing sassy sexy, sensual sequoia’s secrets
Tantalizing teasing talk toward trees’ temperatures
Understanding unspoken underlying Unitarian underlays
Vexing various variegated veins
Washing wonderful walnuts’ wanderlust
‘xacting ‘xasperating ‘xcitement
young, youthful, yipping
zephyr!
How many fiddlers are there in a faerie band?
It was a legitimate question, but I had no idea.
I decided to find out the eve of Summer Solstice.
On this day the faerie orchestra is usually the loudest.
I hid in tall weeds, sitting on a thorn, unfortunately.
I listened with my psychic ears and watched with fox eyes.
The faerie band came along shortly; rustling the violets.
They were dainty, deliberate, deliciously demure and delightful.
Their music was merrily and monstrously melodious.
Their smiles were wider than the western plains.
Their skipping and hopping were so much fun to watch!
I forgot to count the fiddlers until after they were gone.