Long Oddly Poems

Long Oddly Poems. Below are the most popular long Oddly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Oddly poems by poem length and keyword.


Gonifs and gossips revisited

Gonifs and gossips revisited

since originally being crafted
approximately half dozen
dirty deeds done dirt cheap years ago...

Abound and lurk
within every nook and cranny
analogous to some annoying pest
harmless though one reside here,
when off his meds goes berserk
here at Highland Manor Apartments.

They snatch and snitch packages -
meant for other than themselves -
think Grinch who stole Christmas
plus snoop, i.e. eavesdrop
big Dumbo ears as listening devices
(batteries not required)
or serve as rumor mongers
to don self importance
and trumpet "FAKE NEWS."

We (yours truly and his misses)
dwelled at aforementioned residence
July first 2025 will be eight years,
and no sooner did both of us set foot
on premises than hearsay
immediately promulgated
(metaphorically swirled about our heads),
and passed like greased lightning
thru the robust grapevine
purportedly wife of mine
brought in live snakes.

Oddly and interestingly enough though,
I never actually never heard nor saw
a fellow resident
talk (or whisper in hushed tones)
about me outright.

Rather than badmouth other feisty folks,
which leaves unpleasant virtual
aftertaste described as phooey zook,
thus comeuppance to reprobate recipients
I activate viz cluck
king silly reasonable rhyme,
(so keeps head up
for urbane adverse city slicker
you better watch out

(...better not shout...) just duck
and run for cover cuz poet took
effluvia enroute spouted by word huck
stir, he avoids naming
(chatterboxes whose lives
so devoid of meaning,
they figuratively kickstart tittle-tattle),
who vocally ramp up 
some juicy tidbit with any luck

taking page from former president playbook
letting their lips uncontrollably run a-muck
totally oblivious to credibility factor being a schmuck
buzzfeed initial kernel of truth and truck
outrageous zingers suitable for National Enquirer,
tragicomical, cuz mistruths
courtesy tenants exhibit chutzpah to pluck
farfetched outright lies and innuendos

rolling of tongues of then occupants such as:
"Bible Thumper/Holy Roller,"
"Bingo/ Phat Cathy,""Crooked Old Man,"
"Curvy Girl/Thunder Thighs," "Frumpty Dumpty
"Mush/Smash Mouth, "Snaggletooth,"
"The Bodyguard," "The Fossil," "The Schvartze,"
"Winkle," and last but not leased "Zha Zha”.

Give me fruit flies, mice
and/or roaches any day,
or give me death!
Form: Rhyme


Darkness Swallows Me Part One

Time passes and I wonder how did I come to be here.
 I remember watching you from across the misty lawn.
My heart seems to stop beating and I'm almost in fear.
 One minute I see you so clearly, the next minute you're gone.

Maybe I'm dreaming and I never saw you at all.
 And why am I scared at the same time drawn to you?
Your sultry stare captivates me completely in thrall.
 I shake my head as if it would change my perfect view.

I will myself to walk far away from your entrancing eyes.
 I'm shaking and I can't figure out why I'm so scared.
This has to be my imagination playing tricks on me I surmise.
 Then you appear before me as if by magic and I'm unprepared. 

I panic, breathing heavy as I turn to run where you can't find me.
 All of a sudden you're before me and I never even saw you pass.
I try to go in another direction, my instincts say to run, flee.
 Hiding in a room, hoping you won't see me thru the stained glass.

No such luck, you somehow breathe my name from parted lips. 
 How could you know my name, I've never even met you before.
You swoop behind me and my body is lost to your shadow's eclipse.
 Grabbing me, tearing into my throat, lapping up the blood and gore.

My knees give way and I'm too stunned to even manage a scream.
 White spots cloak my vision and I'm feeling as if I may just faint.
I look down at my favorite dress, in the moonlight my blood gleams.
  A calm washes over me and the biting feels good, isn't that quaint?

Darkness swallows me and to my relief, I am feeling nothing more.
 Visions of gnashing teeth, and spurting blood haunt my once peaceful rest.
Jerking awake, only to realize I lay in a crumpled heap, incredibly sore.
 I see that I have a bite on my throat and an even bigger one on my breast.

How will I explain this, and what do I do now, where do I go?
 No one will believe me, I'd never believe it if I wasn't here to see.
How odd, I seem to be healing fast, I see that scabs are starting to grow.
 I walk towards nowhere, this night was something I didn't foresee.

I sniff the air and smell an oddly familiar scent of earth, musk and fur.
 It seems to pull me in that direction, as if I no longer have control.
My instincts tell me that I am going somewhere safe and secure.
 I'm healed now, my dried blood now leaves me wondering, do I still have a soul?
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Love is Blind

I was a marvelous ophthalmologist, impacting how others saw this world,
As tomorrow one day sees yesterday, on lanes where hued leaves swirled.

I corrected hazy, crazy vision problems, with eyeglasses and with surgery;
Like a second look, evoked by raspberry rose, to verify beauty's certainty.

I also did frequent research, on hidden causes and cures for eye disease;
Just as reasons for rainbows and stardust, lay hidden in nature mysteries.

I had once studied cosmetology, and I loved the art of applying makeup;
And I never left home without it, like opening red tulip, at sunrise wakeup.

Friends fascinated like fire opals, bringing fetching colors into a vibrant life;
And we relished flaming, flamboyant Fridays, under maroon skies of strife.

Flavorful fruits were fanatically ripening, when feel-good family visited me.
Fiery red raspberries and fat blueberries, fell beneath puff clouds, so pretty.

I lived in the house of sudden mists, in oranges, pinks, purple and scarlet,
Where any day could be right for lovely visions, before the sky grew starlit.

Snap peas and sweet potatoes grew in the gardens, along my sunny street,
In days of searing, scarlet sun salutes, and gold hours of pause and repeat.

Nearby noon gave nectarine notice, as neighborly neighbors came visiting,
When green nature bore a heatwave, like the nesting woodpecker, knocking.

Pink fairy wings bloomed fantasy gardens, as the yellow tiger lilies roared;
And the dragon lulus breathed fire, like ardor cooling for one, once adored.

Brain cacti meditated summer greenery, whilst toad lilies attracted insects;
And pink bottlebrushes swept away sad blues, scrubbing aside dour defects.

I was attending a Fourth of July cook out, hosted by the fondest of families;
But the makeup I'd ordered was late, forcing me to put aside pure vanities!

By the time I left for the plum, pleasant party, I was feeling oddly liberated;
And family and friends did not notice my lack, like stars, clouds obliterated.

I had a lovely time that rosy day, when martins sang like the Fourth of July,
Amidst mauve festivity and lemon sunshine, and bellflowers ringing nearby!

The lesson I learned that vivid day, is to glam up or not, according to mood,
For people are still loveable either way, like faint dawn moon, briefly viewed.
Form: Couplet

Premium Member T'Was the Night Before Christmas

A Very Merry Christmas

T’ was the night before Christmas
And all through the house 
Spoons were stirring the drinks
Held by every souse

The shot glasses were filled
With three kinds of whiskey
Though were often spilled
When Myrna got frisky

The highballs were placed
On the chimney with care
Until Uncle Nicholas
Tripped over the chair

By chance no kids awoke 
Because of that slouch
But Grandpa slid off
His warm comfy couch

“What was that,” He asked
“Was there a collision?”
Which in this case there was,
And not one of his visions

Yet, before lying back down
Gramps had one more night cap
Then slumped onto the couch
And squashed poor Nips the cat

While out at the bar
There arose such a noise
Because Myrna was flirting
With some of the boys

I sprung from the recliner
To help my dear cousin
And saw lads sucking shots
From her pierced belly button

Away to the window
I flew for my life
But when looking outside
There was my modest wife

Dancing in circles 
Around the snowman
Though minus a coat 
Being half in the can

When I hopped to the door
But who should appear?
My dear uncle George
With a cooler of beer

I had to think fast
For my wife and Nick
And for Myrna inside
Yes, I had to think quick

Then came inspiration
To set up the maneuver
Of thumbing my phone
For the app to Uber

I had fifteen minutes
Until the taxi’s came
So I shouted and called
Everyone by name

Now Nicholas, now Myrna
Now dear Grandpa G
Yo Uncle George
Climb in a taxi

I called to my cousins
In the midst of a brawl
It’s time to drive away
For Pete’s sake, drive away all!

And then in a twinkling
I saw on the roof
My wife of all things;
Still high on forty proof

I didn’t call out
Knowing she’d crash
Yet she jumped in the chimney
Landing on the heaped ash
	
She was dressed in a robe
That turned coal black
And I was surprised
Coz she clutched a small sack

Then my wife oddly asked
If I thought she looked chubby
But I knew that trap
Being her hubby

I spoke not a word
As she quickly rose
But when I picked her up
Tore her panty hose

I sprung to the bedroom
Flopped her on the bead
While the sack she held
Knocked me upside the head

But the bag just contained
A large carrot and stones
And ‘Merry Christmas To All’
Displayed on her phone.
Form: Verse

Mince Meat Pie No Lie

Mince Meat Pie No Lie

Oh great! Found that some guy forgot to stipulate
How he knows people hate to wait or set a date
Important enough and already been accentuated
And, would you believe, destroyed, defecated and then defalcated.

Then you had arrived at the problem that could possibly be
While she really scarred the heck out of you as well as me
It happened to be Hillary wearing a wise old owl disguise
Found in boxes bond for Bombay much to my surprise.

She had a not only great idea but one which was ingenious
Like and old oscillating owl had a face being the meanest
And after be shown and while looking at it day by day
Someone started to toot and trump song saying stay away (Not no way Jose'.)

Next thing we found was owls only fly in a single formidable formation
Not knowing if it was done out of inspiration or desolate desperation
After having been found flying over Flint looking for water to be drinking
That is when this itty bitty troubled owl really started to thinking.

Water color seemed so cruddy and glass stood singular and all alone
On shelf while many makeshift people would moan and groan
Which is when Hillary had come up with another idea being so wild
What if we were to begin conducting an experiment of each child.

On their each table several glasses of water they would start to place
To see that when each one would drink who made strangest, oddest face
Then again oddly enough researchers data they did determine to decipher
Answers to questions and observations children had handed over to offer.

Now why would any maniac or moron ever try to seem and become so mean
Who had abused their own bodies and no longer were a health food fiend 
Then with their own selves, education and experience became entranced
At abundance of cruddy urine color running down each poor baby's pants.

Franticly and finally many ill-advised answers they had come across
What was decided is that all of it and whole thing had created a lost cause
And after many words were thought of, brought together and they would mince
Those who have minds mixing with their water will meet with lower intelligence.

James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet

Like everything else of course there always has to be a catch
Prerequisite for reading this is imagination being able to stretch.
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Couplet


Born One Hundred Years Too Late

My co-worker posed a theory to me
That our boss was born one hundred years later than she was supposed to be
Neither of us could exactly put our finger on why, but I had to agree
No makeup, unbrushed hair, bad teeth
As though she just awoke from a long, troubled sleep
Her mannerisms seem out of sync somehow with contemporary company; 
Solitarily sorting books in the back room of the used bookstore she manages each day
to remain distant and dazed, as though unfamiliar with a world that has dramatically changed
Nobody knows how old she is, but I’d guess upper-middle-aged

She never seems relaxed or at home with where she has landed, always looking around as she walks through a room or doorway, ever vigilant
She shows up each day looking like last night was another rough one, but her speech and ways seem oddly quaint and well-bred, 
strangely legalistic and more formal than needed in this squalid environment.

She simply doesn’t seem at home in this place;
She can stand two feet away from me and a co-worker as we’re sorting while joking and, while our hands are busy working, our minds are away playing,
But she is immune to the general contagion of the strange repartee and laughs exchanged, seeming to hear nothing we’re saying.
Never laughing herself nor conversing, guarding her thoughts, observations, and history from judgment, and getting lost in her own world such that the sudden awareness of the presence of another person can induce a violently startled jump the other way.

And I know what that’s like, as I’ve spent many years in that state, 
so it is painful to see it in another neglected appearance 
and another needlessly nervous wreck of a person who is
wishing to just go home or one day somehow escape this place 
where her body has ended up by way of a misdirected fate.  

But today she took my co-worker and I by surprise when, after being shown a book with a cover featuring a picture of Jesus playing golf, she smiled widely and lively, and she replied, 
“That’s ridiculous!  Everyone knows Jesus only played tennis!!” 
It was just a small joke, but it was like seeing a rainbow in the refracted light on a dark sky
It gave me hope that, despite being meant for a time perhaps one hundred years ago, in this day where she was nonetheless sent, she may someday come home.
© Amy Sell  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

At the Mercy of Anticipatory Anxiety, Hence

At the mercy of anticipatory anxiety, hence...
viz hitted courtesy debilitating panic attacks

Upon waiting for vehicular repair 
today November 19th, 2019 at:
CJ'S TIRE & AUTOMOTIVE SERVICES
(1405 S Township Line Rd,
Royersford, PA 19468),
yours truly, i.e. mister re: man
registered lamentable paroxysm.

All thru mein kampf inferiority complex
analogous invisible muscular heft did flex,
quaking, hijacking, agonizing...
jinxed irrevocable hex
re: heredity did initially index

courtesy Boyce and Harris,
who begat me
guaranteed, fixed, decreed...
courtesy accursed lex
lucifer mortal christened
Matthew Scott Harris – insinuated

jackknifed, kickstarted, limned,
machined, nixed, ordered... orifex
encompassing hardiest inscrutable
seminal entry point
penetrated zona pellucida, qua Rex

wrought flawed crown
faulty erroneous biological code,
within body electric mutation
fleshed out, I lament
analogous courtesy neophyte Unix

programmer, yes I hedge
to intimate biological event
upon impregnation sent
reproductive juices into action
miracle whipped processes
wielded unbeknownst advent,

whereby subsequent
cell division manifested,
albeit nine months later enfant
terrible asper:in,
this then newborn gent
lo' within zygote,

every generic ingredient
already harbored yours truly
characteristic weaknesses full extent
unbeknownst until DNA blooper rent
birthed, thence as I developed absent

pronounceable kinks vis a vis
trademark characteristics became present
evinced thru behavioral, emotional,
interpersonal, neurological aberrations

costing me (lake dude...) woebegone descent
wretchedness faux forfeiting every moment
only recent (think today)
entire existence misspent

oddly enough even compromising
ability to serve meant
two daughters, (especially eldest)
decry horrible life pent
up with rage against human machine

referring to paternal birth parent,
whose pathetic example rent
asunder psyches linked with offspring
hence, I best ought to have
joined a convent (ha).

Twas really only of late,
I realized fuller blown extent
house zing deplorable... state
absolute zero scholastic, tete a tete
opportunistic, generic, athletic...
*****sapien astride oblate
spheroid devoid of any
marketable skill doth resonate.

Nine Lives Removed From Royal Dignity

Nine lives removed from royal dignity

Five days after 
getting acquainted with darling cats
pampered like queens courtesy 
thee eldest daughter 
and her partner acquired as kittens
reminiscence occurred regarding
one particular four footed feline
my late mother doted over.

Lion eyes hide predatory wage
sharp retractable sharp claw
never did the late Sage 
exhibit talon nor ferocious jaw
even when getting his nails clipped,
said gentle cat infrequently 
sunk daggers into soft human skin,
but upon completion 
of aforementioned onerous task, 
he voicelessly, soundlessly, passively, 
manly, joyfully did withdraw.

Aye attest tubby reincarnated
(as well mine eldest daughter's beau)
from one male Russian Blue
species Felis silvestris catus
named Morris if that gives 
a handy dandy clue,
and during my fuzzy past
hence, asthma “Cats Cradle” 
segued and Atlas 
shrugged off kitten hood
fur hum lee established
type cats as (tin pan) alley cat,
a rather litter boxed gritty debut

t'wood become (later in life) tabby
quick as greased lightning
snatching in the air,
when tender vittles flew,
technically got fired (acquiring
appropriate nicknames) 
as fame (like a bushy cat tail) grew
viz perfect back up crooner 
for “Cat Stevens”, 
or lead singer for 
the "Stray Cats" oddly

coupled, featured, and
incorporated with the guru
Horton Hears A Hoo,
yes him Elephant resembling
a humongous mandrake
from the, "Animals"
whose body heat could
easily melt an igloo,
whereby Inuits accepted charity from
Korean philanthropists named Joo
(founders of Palaces for Pachyderms)

these lumbering creatures possessed
an exemplary photographic memory
(rivaling that of the amazing
deceased idiot savant
Kim Peek), he knew
practically every detail
incorporating page number, punctuation 
plus citing word for word
never truncating, omitting, 
nor jumbling... any lines,
and could track missing link,

when felines shared common ancestor
but,...such petty files 
would most likely boar
and go way off course, and hence
will shy away being extempore
favoring a deliberate fore
ray padding around basically ignore
ring any rhyme or reason
suddenly ending this persiflage,
and thence to thee bon jour,
cuz yours truly off
in a huff to bang a lore.
Form: Rhyme

Oh, You Don'T Know the Shape I'M In!

Yes, indeed,
I'm not quite up to speed,
These days, anyway...
Let me tell you, if I may...
The 20 odd meds I must take,
Each and every day...
Hope you got the space in your hard drive,
To see what it takes, to keep me alive...

First, the conditions...Ventricular Fibrillation (Life threatening heart condition, 
which brought me tons of seizures...and emergency heart surgery within an 
hour...they implanted in my heart a computerized "Defibrillator" miniture version 
of those big electric pads you see on TV medical scenes, where they 
go: "Charge! Now!!" and the electric shock makes the body jump.  I was told it 
was that, or be dead in a month.  And when the battery dies, it starts beeping 
inside my chest...no doubt I'll be in a movie theatre at the movie's climax, and be 
tossed by the usher (do they still have those?)....Second is COPD, today's term 
for emphyzema...a degenerative lung disease...where suddenly you cannot 
breath, you literally drown in a sea of air....This is a peachy one, has me in the 
hospital 10 times a year, plus far more suseptible to goodies like pneumonia...
which I have gotten several times, and from which I just recently recovered.  
The prognosis is poor, it is incurable, progressive (contantly getting worse), 
terminal...I will eventually suffocate...and I'm always with a variety of inhalers and 
nebulizers...a plug in version I got from a ex-co-worker's wife, with the same 
disease, but much better specialists than me, although she died from it 2 years 
ago, oddly, on my birthday (2-28)  hmmmmm.....I already have a plot for me and 
my Rosie...lovely place....I've survived bladder cancer twice...another benefit from 
my long ago days of smoking -quit in 1994- when this first showed up- I'd go to 
urinate, and pure blood would flow...naturally it soon clogged, and I swelled up 
with blood....came real, real close to dead several times...and I'm not a 
recreational drug user...so the pain was aweful, and the later Dr. check-ups a 
fearful affair...a fiber optic camera inserted up the *****....any male's worse 
nightmare...with good reason, the pain is unreal...It's my third favorite past time to 
being beheaded, being castrated (near the same thing), and being burned at the 
stake. Continued...
© Tom Bell  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Bio

M-Theory Musings

What theory unifies forces, weak, strong,
With gravity— also, to which belong
All the string theories of why and because?
To answer these queries, M-theory does.

Proponents aver it offers clarity
As to the issue of singularity.—
Where there’s a will there’s a way,
So they say…

In the beginning our universe sprang
From membranes colliding to cause a Big Bang…
Hence matter and energy stem from vibrations of strings seen by seers
In a music of spheres.

One mode of vibration, or ‘note’, makes the string an electron,
Another a photon…
And what of Higgs-boson?

There’s even a mode for the graviton, thought to have gravity’s force.
So vibrating strings would then be the source
To create tiny articles which we call
Elementary particles— one and all.

Dimensions— four plus compactified seven—
Equal a total that’s oddly eleven…
To wit, though string theories wound up at the tenth,
They had to add one more that’s odd to the nth.

Do we have enough sense or senses extended
To fathom those p-branes M-theory intended
And get to the bottom of hyper spacetime
In this super multiverse theory sublime?

What sounding vibration
Strange seeming sensation
Might set the strings strumming
Or maybe branes humming
Is something to ponder,
One’s whimsies to wander—

My mind like the wind evanescent can roam
O’er billowing waves and ineffable foam
With parallels plenty of our bubble home…

Thus I heard
M-theory’s word.

Albeit in physics there’s much knowledge base,
What waters of wisdom could ever embrace
Such cosmic curled places with hyperspace face?

Eerily far we’ve come to here
From bards’ illusions yesteryear—
When heavens would sing lullabies,
With moon and stars to harmonize
Midst luminescent light display
That might have been the Milky Way
Overturning all its jars
In a shower of shooting stars…

How flimsy, fleeting, and fragile life seems,
In our floating realm like a land of dreams!

Amen— let poets lyricize yet
Sweeter reveries lest we forget
Dearer wonders perchance of yore
From whilom membranes nevermore
Where earthlings gazed at clearer skies
With yonders nearer to our eyes,
In a once upon a time divine
P-brane world of auld langsyne…


– Harley White
Form: Rhyme

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