Long Octagon Poems
Long Octagon Poems. Below are the most popular long Octagon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Octagon poems by poem length and keyword.
Guy starred at the Octagon,
when he was just a lad,
and all the reviews.
in the Bolton News,
said that he wasn’t too bad.
His mum said it was destiny,
his dad said it was karma,
when Guy got his kicks,
down the A666,
at Salford studying drama.
From the Exchange to the Everyman,
he took the stage by storm,
the London critics,
even the cynics,
queued up to watch him perform.
“Bolton’s talented Guy” they cried,
and followed the rising star,
but he couldn’t forget,
when offered Hamlet,
his dad thought they meant a cigar.
Guy knew he’d finally made it,
his mum wept tears of delight,
when she jumped for joy,
with news that her boy,
would turn on the Blackpool lights.
(A gangster rap)
Yo, on the corner, where the street meets fate,
Unsupervised stop sign, tempting fate,
In the hood's wild west, where rules bend,
That stop sign stands alone, a silent trend.
No law, no authority, it's a lawless land,
But that sign, it's a symbol, taking a stand,
In the chaos of the streets, it holds its ground,
A rebel, a silent voice, all around.
Cars zoomin' by, ignorance in the air,
But that stop sign's there, it doesn't care,
Red octagon, a warning ignored,
In the streets of rebellion, it's adored.
It's like me, in this life of sin,
Breakin' the rules, but I aim to win,
Unsupervised, yet standin' tall,
Against the odds, I'm destined to brawl.
That stop sign's a metaphor, a symbol of might,
In a world so dark, it shines a light,
Unnoticed, unguarded, but it persists,
Like a gangster's resilience, it exists.
I roll through the streets, like a renegade,
With the spirit of that stop sign, never afraid,
In this concrete jungle, where chaos thrives,
I'm the unsupervised rebel, on the rise.
Here comes a word,
A word that cuts as a sword,
You could have heard it’s foreword,
From a songbird or a ladybird,
But I renew your memory,
Of the rocks in our eyes.
I will whisper, mime or even shout,
If this will bring attention,
Prevention and intervention,
Of this hurting, pinching rock,
Preventing the shutting of eyelid,
For the rock is in the eye.
The monster is taking shapes,
octagon,
Will take you for a marathon,
Not in Babylon but imaginary,
Building unseen houses and castles,
For the rock remains in the eyes.
They press it through the blood,
And power press it by the nose,
Sink it down the belly by mouth
In the hope of rising and firing,
But bears so much detention,
For the rock is still in their eyes.
The pain becomes unbearable,
Tears are flowing freely,
Eyes are shutting truly,
Ooh! Lives are surely ending,
And desperation is now showing,
For the rocks are in the eyes.
Some will end on streets,
Roaming with insanity,
Many will return to infancy,
Mind, speech and deeds,
Others bed partners in jail,
For the rocks are in their eyes.
I will sing a song of desperation,
For the song of joy is gone,
I will lament with no comment,
For the lives that are destroyed,
Man and future squashed,
By the rock that is in the eye.
We all stand accused,
And amused by the situation,
Let’s all get attached,
To save the situation,
We all are getting worried,
By the rock in our eyes.
Dear listener, is there hope?
Will Mary, Stacy and Tracy perish?
No! No! No! We all are afflicted,
But will never ever be defeated,
We will all take positions,
To remove the rock in the eye.
The roughest, toughest to ever enter the Octagon/
Beating the competition to a pulp, is what I be on/
I do not cut slack, my combinations are vicious/
They hit you back to back, the impact is stupendous/
Your blood is delicious, the smell is metallic/
Stepping in the ring with me, it will get drastic/
I finesse, I brawl, however they want it/
I stand on the level of a bully pulpit/
Everything I do is nice, I'm way too legit/
I'm banging and I keep banging till you split/
You're not even ready, you're not even steady/
I can beat you to submission, but I like to get messy/
You can get chewed up, and screwed up/
The impact when it kick is like a million upper cuts/
It comes to me too easy so I don't even brag/
But when you're going against me, just wave the white flag/
Kick punch kick punch pitbull repetition/
I put the game in a choke hold, it's my submission/
I'm the world champion, I don't have to say/
Welcome to the Octagon of the Pitbull MMA/
I'm the baddest man alive and the best to ever do it/
I do not play no games, I just get straight to it/
I dominate every stage, every single round/
So everytime I enter the booth, it's going down/
Me against whoever, I win every time/
It's not even fair, that's why the crown is mine/
When I'm done with you, they'll call you a ghost/
I'm super paranormal you should call me coast to coast/
This is the king post, and I am the host/
They say that I'm horrible, but so adorable/
A dangerous match up, you do not want trouble/
I'll hit you one time and have you seeing double/
Punch kick kick punch kick punch kick/
Send one to his temple, now it's over with/
FOURTH TRIAL OF STYLEBENDER
He left him frozen like Elsa,
The loosed dog ate him up as a pizza
Then unleashed his bow & arrow,
3 shots ended him, piercing into his marrow.
Put an arrow in the heart of your demon.
Even though successful revenge isn't common
as he was hunted down 3 times by his nemesis,
drowned by the sea of eyes in the octagon premises.
Suddenly, the hunted becomes the hunter,
slicing through Perriera like bread & butter.
Now, the predator becomes the prey,
Adesanya entered the record books...what an entry!
Second-round knock-out was the story,
Stylebender basks in the sweetness of glory.
Landing a thunderous right hand from the gods
And defeating his demon against all odds.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Rhymes
Copyright ©? 9th April 2023.
ONE STONE
Found
One Stone
Small, not round.
Shape; Octagon
Promptly picked from ground.
I was walking alone.
Overwhelmed! Joy knew no bound.
Seemed precious, not to be thrown.
On verification, got astound.
Real diamond! I was lucky to own.
11/11/17
TWO WORDS CHALLENGE Contest by John Lawless
A is for algebra, where numbers are represented by letters
B is for base, a base ten number system is much better
C is for circle, it goes round and round
D is for degree, in a circle, 360 are found
E is for equation, an assertion of the equality of two expressions
F is for fraction, it's the ratio of two expressions
G is for graph, a diagram showing the relationship betwen two numbers
H is for hypotenuse, a triangle's longest side, easy to remember
I is for integer, positive or negative numbers that are whole
J is for justification, proof of a solution, so I'm told
K is for kilometer, that's almost a mile
L is for line, it has one dimension and can go on for a while
M is for median, the most common value in a group
N is for numerator, its the top number in a fraction, like a hoop
O is for octagon, the number of sides are eight
P is for pentagon, it has five sides and that's great
Q is for quotient, the result of a division
R is for ratio, the relationship between two expressions
S is for square, with equal sides of four
T is for triangle, it has three sides, no more
U is for unit, a standardized quantity
V is for volume, the quantity of a three dimensional entity
W is for whole number of which there are a lot
X is for x- axis, the horizontal axis for coordinates , a plot
Y is for y- axis, the vertical axis a coordinate system brings
Z is for zero , it's not even one thing
We talked about fractions. circles, and squares
Next, we'll explore lions, tigers, and bears
When I was younger, I have often wondered
Why is the eighth month not called October?
Was geometry wrong
When it named the octagon,
Or was this a mistake wrought by the calendar?
'Augustus' seemed such an ugly name too
It sounded like someone who has the flu
Plus, I've always had this pet
From a childish pang of regret
That my birthstone's colour wasn't blue
Oh, would it be that I was born a month late
To be a ‘child of autumn’ seemed so great
Instead, it's been quite a bummer
To have birthdays in hot summer
Though I suppose Mom and Dad just couldn't wait!
But, in recent years, I've changed my tune
About being born on the eighth moon
For there is so much fame
Behind this august name
My date of birth is now to me a welcome boon
For while the man whose name this month honours
Might not possess July's fame and splendour
He satisfied the Romans' wish
To implement an age of peace
And so the legacy of his reign is forever revered
The strength he lacked he made up in understanding:
Roman men saw repugnant the title of "king"
So he knew to bide his time
And rose the ranks in slow inclines
To not repeat his predecessor's death by stabbing!
He knew too well that he could not climb alone
Delegation was key for his path towards the throne
Dealing right to win the race
A mastermind masked with modest grace
Always walking with one foot set upon the gravestone
I do not believe that stars dictate our destiny
But there is much to learn from their history
By giving August a retrospect
I have grown profound respect
For this bleak yet beautiful, immutable part of me
What of pride and presentation
When time is short in duration?
An octagon out of a square...
Proverbial scissors used there.
It is what it is - this, I hear
Constantly in and out each ear.
A triangle meets hexagon
In repetition, on and on.
Input dried of saturation...
Effort tried, no compensation.
Ongoing instances of these
Bring situations to their knees.
When unavailability
Of resources persists to be,
Circumstances are made humble...
Everything begins to crumble.
One example - making a cake.
Unsuccessful within its bake
When ingredients are lacking...
Outcome evident of slacking.
If its method is not followed
Proper, it is harder swallowed.
When void of cooking essential,
Cake does not reach its potential.
Take another scenario...
The teamwork of employment so.
When two workers turn into one,
Managed quality is undone.
In regards to minor detail,
Its freshness gradually turns stale...
Pending failure when correction
Is established of inspection.
Conclusions do not come with ease...
What once was, no longer a breeze.
Corner cutting in all respect
Leads to certain snowball effect.
Such distressing leads to stressing...
This, is it worth second guessing?
Band-aids sometimes necessary,
But should just be temporary.
After our not so delicious meal, we started home
He turned onto our usual well-worn road
Headed west where we bumped across raised railroad tracks
There at the octagon shaped stop sign turned northwest
Feeling sated and situated on the road home
Home where the old weak heart resides
Home where comfy cotton clothes are worn
Home where feet are adorned with thong sandals
It is at least forty-five minute drive
Through rural Georgia with flourishing farmland
Verdant pastures next to many neat old homeplaces
Ones we see at least three times a month
Today something different caught our old tired eyes
A golden-yellow field but also a deep, pine green
Both of these old people wondered aloud
What is that growing over there?
With each passing second, we drew closer
Our old eyes began to grasp the beauty
The grace, symmetry of this four acre field
It was sunflowers, glorious sunflowers
I told my husband to turn onto the closer county road
Go onto a road less traveled by us and many
On that country road not well-traveled
Stood sunflowers, somewhat drooped on a cloudy day
However, that is not all of the story
I don't know if I have free versed enough
Should I go on?
Maybe save the rest for another day?