Long Mystery Poems
Long Mystery Poems. Below are the most popular long Mystery by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mystery poems by poem length and keyword.
The Halloween Party was in full swing
Witches, wizards and an alien thing
with tentacles and one huge eye
Flourishing a laser gun shouting "Die".
Alison and her friends Ada and Jo
Were all dressed as feline kittens "meow"
Carl and Simon had laced the fruit punch bowl
As the evening drew on it took it's tole.
Drunkenly a bet was stupidly placed
Who of them would last and not be outpaced
A nightly vigil at Haunted Creek
Where rode a phantom horseman, there to seek.
Everyone there all knew the awful tale
Making in unison a quick inhale
It was long ago in 1702
A mounted stallion there cast a shoe
The rider's name was Squire Abraham Knight
Was set upon and put up a good fight
He was then butchered for a gold doubloon
Was then thrown in the creek and found at noon
Unexplained sightings, that then disappear
have been recorded, it is very unclear
Warnings come from parents to their own child
No-one goes there, it is left to grow wild
With youthful bravado they all met there
Torches flashed around, as the trees stood bare
Alison and her friends huddled together
Shivering in the inclement weather
Bart and his brother camped down for the night
on a hillock, keeping the creek in sight
Joining them was the terror gang of four
Troublemakers, who all acted hardcore.
Two hours later it started to snow
Huge flakes falling and wind began to blow
"I've had enough of this" said Alison
"I'm all for going home. I'm all done!"
Eagerly agreeing, walked back in step
Suddenly Jo tripped up and in pain wept
"Can't go further, my ankle is wrecked"
Leaning on shoulders, onwards they all trekked.
"No, I can't, please, you must stop", poor Jo wailed
"It's agony! she gasped and then inhaled.
"Come on Jo, we can stop at Adam's place".
"We will make it there at a slower pace.
Adam's place was an old abandoned farm
"No, not there!" said Ada-May in alarm
"Afraid of ghosts and ghouls?" mocked Alison
"More like rats and spiders and not much fun!".
Giggling they arrived at old Adam's place
The moonlight showing fear on each girl's face
"We have to go in there, we have no choice"
Jo jumped. "Was that whinnying of a horse?"
On that retort they threw open the door
Stepping inside, they all dropped through the floor
Not one of them survived their dreadful doom
Trapped, without rescue, in the dark, dark room.............
With looks of celestial damsel
On mission of mystery unravel
A fairy flies from foreign land
Fabulously to discover dreamland
With colourful feathers silky
Plumage so soft as cream milky
With a huge brain and physique
Seemingly bereft of travel unique
Marches with her wings vibrant
Only to devote herself on front 1
Space being her intriguing place
With supersonic speed that’s ace
Surmounting all hurdles many
The angel gathers speed gluttony
Hovering over planetoids tiny
Cosmic powers she has bonny
Revolving around many orbits
Surpassing all heavenly bits
Eventually lands on planet afar
Near the superb system of star 2
The landing leaves no stone unturned
For she knows her vision churned
Deep insight and attitude awesome
Make her an alien winsome
Tidy looks and trendy gait
Extremely stunning to catch and get
Her device offers a beverage strange
That has unique aura and rage
Pinkish perfect pure porridge
The cosmic food it seems from fridge 3
Tailor-made for her specific physique
Is the space suit with electro-magnetic
Induction full speed and winsome
Mere touch causes sparkle wowsome
A protective shield made of an alloy
Thus making her a space decoy
Satellites she whirls like a key chain
Space capsules she twirls on her mane
An enormous angel from an alien abode
Now at my solar system crossroad 4
What could be her mission possible!
Has been my subject of marvel
Is it to bring apocalypse fatal
Or just to revamp my earth petal
Before her I am like a neo natal
What to do to know her mettle
Time passes and she starts
To peruse my earth full of arts
Wonders at the seas and bays
Astonishes at mountains and rays 5
I am now beside myself
As she drills the earth deep herself
Oh soon there comes an mystery man
With torso made of crystal brand
The drilling continues till the dusk
There is a mist and her voice husk
I know it’s their language mutual
Based on the heavenly acts factual
Perhaps the mission is to find gems
In the earth stomach that overwhelms 6
Thus I’m sure she is down for mining
And exploiting the earth for farming
The drill lasts for hours twenty
Finally come out jewels aplenty
Like that of ocean-churn by Gods
Here going on planet-pumping by rods
The purpose is to adjust the axle
Though imaginary-full of miracle
Eventually gathered all gems
Putting axle in firm place 7
Did Shakespeare ever fall in love?
A rose by any other name would
stink as sweet!
What would Y'eshua say if indeed
Magdalene was his favorite disciple?
What miracles would he impress her
with
So as to savor her forbidden apple?
O woman!
Is that why god made you last of all
nature's enviable beauty?
If before he said let there be light
You were the first thing his devine
eyes saw
I bet creation would have been a
different theory altogether.
If love at first sight was a figure of
speech
Then I swear I love you like a
metaphor
And your smile is a typo
They meant to say a simile
I will kiss your face like a blank page
And my lips will be the tip of my
pencil
Drawing drooling hieroglyphs like
the hand of god
Inscribing Ten Commandments of
Love
On the tablets of your breasts
Because my name is Moses
A stammerer on a voyage to save a
lonely soul
From the shackles of cynicism
On love affairs.
I would love to laugh while making
rough love to you
On the dark floor of my solitude cell
Where torn pages of amatuerish
poems lay as a carpet
Because you are my words:
Maybe your face is the sky
And your eyes are the stars
Maybe your laughter is a symphony
Of a million harps from a million
virgin angels
I have written about love a million
times
And still you remain elusive
A mystery
Are you an acrostic;
So each letter tells your tale?
Maybe a couplet or limerick?
Are you a sonnet? Or a ballad? Or a
metre without a rhyme?
Maybe you are a mere syllable I
mumble at every sudden ******.
Your body is a symmetry of regular
ryhthm
Consumate from five to seven
And back to five
Haiku:
Japanese poets should build a
pedestal for you
And all lustful lads
Should come and slink the slank at
your feet
Indeed lady,
Your gait and pride and smell of
shaven armpits and eyeballs might
make a eunuch have an ********
And that to me
Is amorous injustice!
Tell me,
What can a scribe do?
When all I write about is human
weakness
And wickedness?
When writing to me is an escape
from adjectives I can't utter over a
cup of coffee?
To me,
The strand of your hair alone
Deserves atleast umpteenth stanzas
of praise
A prerequisite.
If I say I love you
Will you giggle at my palpability?
Why bore you with parables
When all you yearn for is a touch
And forever?
I will say no more.
Alas, you may have noticed if
you’ve looked around the world these days,
you don’t see werewolves or zombies,
no vampires or mummies at play.
The whole world seems to have lost that
thade of mystery we once knew,
The creatures that stalked us of old
have become remarkably few.
There’s still a few out there, I know,
good old Dogman up in Michigan,
but for many of these creatures
their wild days have come to an end.
Now what’s the reason for this loss?
What has brought about this strange thing?
That’s easy enough to explain,
we humans are great at killing!
Yes, just as with normal animals,
we kill off what might be a threat,
something threaten might endanger out lives
is something that we can’t abet.
So just like predators and small pox
we saw the job was done,
heck, we published how to kill them
in all of our horror fiction!
Stakes, silver, garlic, and headshots,
we let all the world know how to win,
to the point out nights have become safe,
free of all the creatures of sin.
But if you still want to see them
then I have some good news for you,
you can see them all down at the
Endangerer Horror Species Zoo!
Now we got ghouls, goblins, wendigos,
your Demons, your banshees, and sprites,
we got all of the B-team monsters,
but most folks come for the big five.
I guess we should start with the werewolf,
each must roam in his own separate pen,
their spacious and lined in silver leaf,
we don’t want them getting out again.
The only ones left are the old ones,
so old they no longer transform,
they just stay werewolves all the time,
apparently this is the norm.
whatever the case, it’s good for us,
people can see them fur and all,
through a foot-thick one way mirror
that forms the enclosure front wall.
These eight foot beasts eat messily,
yet people gather when they feed,
yhey act appalled by the whole thing,
Yet they consistently watch the scene.
And when those lycans howl loud
it pieces right down to the soul,
ten times the fear of a normal wolf,
the spine tingles, and blood runs cold.
But people like feeling afraid
so long as they know they are safe,
sometimes we’ll drop a rabbit in there
so folks can watch the beast give chase.
Why do so few of these beast remain?
think silver bullets plus machine gun,
most of them now are heads on a wall,
we’re luck to have more than one...
CONTINUES IN PART II.
What do you believe?
What do you know?
did you have any clue i read tarot cards professioanlly for the oldest restarunt built
in my city
and predict surprised birthday parties that have passed
and cfan tell you all sorts of secrets of exaggerated emotion and paranoia
that only the moon knows
So like the life lesson of the hanged man
are you here to realise you are gullible or to see through me and know ive been
telling the truth
is this a test for you flase prophet
or your spiritual awakening with another card before you saying all of my poetic
poems that sound personal are nothing more than fabrications
and many of you judge me
and that further goes to prove my writing ability?
Is it true do i know anything of being bonded to the material
and the devil who reminds me the keys to my chains are within my grasp
And the tower of unforseen catastrophe always has a happy ending or a rainbow
but only a true prophet in the year 2012 in las vegas understands the
conspirtualacy of my craft
Is the hierophant all about the conformity of society
and the grouping together of the nonconformidt youth
so when the saints and sinners pull to gether to revolutionise and pull this star
from the sky will our dreams or nightmares come true?
Tell me prophet Am i a fool because the magician never taught me his tricks
but i understand the perfect shufles and have a deck of freudian slips of my own?
the blue moon sunrise and the three levels of the game of reality
we take babysteps of fear to beat or fail to proceed or return to the start
Where exactly is the emperor's crown of authority when society understands the
slide of psychology
and the one of a million being catered to
and the billion sof like minded individuals that spiral out from this psychological
understanding
Am i in the driver seat of the chariot and do i have enough temperance
to balance the forces of good and bad to see the pros and cons
of the blessings and ultimatums of desires and consequence
were you gullible all this time to fall for my lies?
or were you smart enough to see them as works of art?
or are you a true prophet and need to start the revolution from the earth and the
pollution of our skies
here i am
a false martyr
tell me prophet whats in store for me
and what am i to do?
Decorating
“But what is real? If you mean those impulses and signals sent by your senses
and which are then interpreted by your brain. Then the real can be anything
your mind desires.”
Morphius.
The Matrix.
When a child opens its eyes
Awareness blossoming
New upon the day
Does it then envision
A clean blank page
To be coloured
To be decorated as it desires
Should all those hues and images
Then be given a name
Yet
What would be
If the child could see
Things that were not the same
In each and every second
These myriad patterns of light
React
To thoughts born from learning
Labelled with a voice which says “this” is
This
And “that” is
That
Yet a blank page emerges
Each and every single day
But written and coloured
By acceptance
In the same new way
But
What if for a moment
You dream
And decorate your world
Differently
What then would the eyes of the liberated
See
Would they see the world
As is
Or see repainted coherency
Or would there be
A moment of birth
Where awareness
Sees through
And beyond reality
And sees with the eyes
of a newly born
Child
A daily place of spirit
Life and light
A spoken place
Where all form
Takes on the form
Of the heavenly blank page
Of light
Where on
Is written
All possibility
And your mind
Decorating
The universe infinitely
Or will mere whim transform
To what it might be
The photons and the fabric of stars
Could we then hold creations dust
In our palms
And with a breath of splendour
Puff beauty into being
Should thought
Become a brush stroke then
Would we sweep and stride
With such a capable hand
The essence of magnificence
A new world
To greet
Our waking eyes
Or is this
What we have come to see
The ballet of light as it settles
Within us
Daily
Some other wonder
Some other hand
Which says
See what I have wrought for you
From the physical tongues of
Eternity
But I know you
People of Earth
And I know the multitude of your dreams
And how
Given the power of your imaginings
You could decorate so diversely
All these things
Which seem now so
Ordinary
Is it but a moment
A second
Of perception
Or a reaction
Predetermined by acceptances
Indoctrination
What where those things
We began to see
When as a new born child
Our eyes first
Opened
Murk Rammer froze as he felt the nuzzle
of a snub-nosed thirty-eight’s deadly muzzle.
Louis The Retch poked it into his back.
“The jig’s up, Rammer. I ain’t cuttin’ no slack.”
Murk had been tricked by a double-crossing dame,
alias “Frigitte,” he didn’t know her real name.
She’d been his undoing, that cute little louse,
undoing the buttons on her bulging blouse,
then slipping out of her slip and her hose,
and her holster too; yeah, she had one of those.
He’d fallen for Frigitte, completely deluded.
She’d come on strong, delightfully denuded.
She’d kissed him hard and let him get a good grab,
but when he dozed off she skipped out and blabbed.
The shamed shamus woke up and found a clue
and went to a warehouse -- a decision he’d rue.
He’d fallen for the ruse, he’d taken the bait,
and walked right in to a date with fate.
That darn dame had put him on the spot.
He was one peeved peeper who’d loved for naught.
The warehouse was full of contraband goods.
They belonged to The Retch, a sleazeball hood --
lead falcons from “Malta” and vases from “Ming,”
dubious diamonds and other blarney-ish bling,
a lading of lies from a smug little smuggler,
who played for keeps and went for the jugular.
And now The Retch had gotten the drop.
No chance for Murk to call for the cops.
“It’s curtains for you,” the Retched one said,
“The only way out is to go down dead.”
“You win,” Murk said, with a little shrug.
He knew he was beat and waited for the slug.
A bullet in the back was the final payoff.
Fat chance The Retch would decide to lay off.
Murk heard the click of a cocked-back hammer
and waited for death in his taciturn manner.
Bang! went a gun – but not the thirty-eight.
The shot came from someone hiding behind a crate.
The Retch went down with blood on his chest,
then high heels approached; you know the rest.
Bad girl Frigitte leapt into Murk’s arms.
She just couldn’t stand to see him harmed.
And that had been Murk’s ace in the hole,
playing so well the Romeo role.
He wrapped his arms around Frigitte’s waist
and their mouths joined together, such a spicy taste!
Then he took her hand and led her out
into rain washed streets where wet shadows slouched.
Did Murk turn Frigitte in to the cops?
Or let love fill his head with mushy slop?
The ending of this tale I’ll leave up to you,
but as for me, I haven’t a clue.
As one gets older some look back, some want to see what they did right and wrong. Some call this their memoirs, a life of their many memories. Maybe an excavation on life is what we needed, look deep into the many years gone by. Found what we did right, now how can we copy it. Found what we did wrong, now set it a side. When a deep life excavation is done, what will we find. Write it all down both right and wrong, pass it on to the younger ones. Many years ago the younger ones learned, they learned from the older ones in the family. Maybe we need to turn the hands on the clock back, to old practices of learning from the older family
members.
Today the younger ones seem to be lost, so lost in this crazy world we live in. If we did an excavation on our lives, what mysteries would we find. Maybe we can save a younger life, maybe make our life more meaningful in return.
Date Written: 6/21/2019
4 Place
Title: An Excavation This or That, Vol 4 Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
It was the Halloween Ball
In the season of the fall
A mysterious bachelor called
To the attention of us all
The biggest mansion party
The cooks food is hearty
The host is definitely tardy
For most of his own party
The musicians play the last dance
The men try to romance
But don't stand a chance
For the host is here! They glance
To a man dressed in black wear
In Old Spanish attire bare
The women began to stare
For he was a young stallion, a Mare
From a top the stairs he walks
The ladies gather to stalk
The man who doesn't talk
Like birds they came in flocks
He wore black clothes and a red sash
White trim and a black mask
To find a dancer is his task
But who will he ask?
The only girl not drawn to attention
Is sitting alone no words to mention
He takes her hand There is no tention
Soft as a doves wings a cool sensation
The proceed to the middle of the floor
She doesn't know what's in store
A lot of musicians come in..there is more!
Some of them rich, some are poor
He takes his tunic off then starts
The music is written from the heart
The stand at attention far apart
Then the solo with the silver harp
The drum beat starts going
They come together emotions flowing
His risque' dance he is showing
To her mind he is boasting
They move and dance like magic
For five minutes the song's romantic
The crowd watching in motionless static
The songs end was very tragic
The last beats were hard to miss
They drew close and started to kiss
For her it was a mystical bliss
His every movement caressed her lips
The awkward silence he starts to leave
The young lady can hardly breathe
She starts to faint...she can't see
The wings appeare and she falls asleep
The girl awakes in her bed it seems
In her school clothes it was only a dream
The sound of water foils the scene
Her eyes still blurry it's hard to see
She wanted this for real
Her heart is sealed
Then fate will have to deal
Her new loves appeal
She notices something on the ground
It's the wings and mask she found
And a CD blank is bound
She puts it in and the sound...
Is the unforgettable song
It was to her so long
But there was something wrong
Where did this come from?
In the CD case is an Old Engligh letter
It said "Undoubtedly for the better
I am gone with the weather
Your kiss I will always remember forever and ever
Form:
As we all go through life we want to believe
That we are all so wise
Until life spits you out a big surprise
As everything changes right before your eyes
When life slows down and we drift inside
We find ourselves fixed to a great slide
Just hoping to get to the other side
Oh God
Where are you taking me on this ride
Before I knew it we were in a full glide
I realize this is no ordinary ride
For on the way I could see clear as day
If I don't pay attention then this ride will sway
And I will never make it back to that day
When my life caught me by surprise
In such a big way
It took me to a place I am not ready to stay
This journey I must say helps me understand God has a plan
It's in his presence that we reach
For some kind of reference
Life is very short so you better be a good sport
Only God knows how wide the slide may be
I'm just glad that he wasn't ready for me
I learned so much as it all went by
I knew I was in the right place
Though I was very high
As I opened my eyes I thought everything
Was in disguise
For I knew that nobody was going to believe
What lays way up beyond the skies
What a wonderful surprise to find out
God loves me enough to send me back
To you guys
My life was altered in so many ways
I was gone for forty-five days
And some of it is still in a haze
My life will never be the same
Only the good Lord knows
How close I came that day
But one thing is for sure
I would never feel any shame
Or forget his mighty name
This is how I became a Soldier in Christ
To help him reclaim
What Satan has taken away
So we must all fight for what is right
We must banish Satan way out of sight
The bible is God's promise to all that believe
It's our faith that sets us free
I will stand against evil to help God to victory
For God had picked me
To see what most of us never get to see
Until we transition this position
And we leave these bodies
You can imagine that look on my face
When I actually made it back to that day
I am a witness to all of his glory
I will spend the rest of my life
Sharing his story
You will not hear any fear
When I know my time is near
He revealed it all to me
It has set me free to go be with thee
Without any mystery in what
God Promised you and me