Long Ouija board Poems
Long Ouija board Poems. Below are the most popular long Ouija board by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ouija board poems by poem length and keyword.
(Seeing an old man walking out of a marriage registrar’s office with a young girl, two women talking…)
Retaining charm till old is art
More than the matter ‘tis of heart,
Look, unstirred, undeterred,
Caught he has a young bird—
The daughter of his old sweetheart,
Now hurt as if by Cupid’s dart!
And old habit as well
(An old man, a retired teacher, and his two sons invoke spirit to write on Ouija board, which makes a spelling mistake, and the old teacher would not allow it to go farther, quoting, a mnemonic device to remember spellings of words with ei or ie. )
Invoked, the ghost when came to be,
The planchette moved on its will free,
The old man still shouted:
Ye must recall, blockhead,
This: I ere E, save after C,
Look, there’s no C in grieve, it’s G.
________________________________
Tongue-in-cheek |07.07.2023| humour/rhyme
You can't Punk my metal, you can't Punk my metal/
You may steal my ouija board from the cemetery/
But, you can never punk my metal/
You can't Punk my metal, my verses are stainless/
All my opponents are like zombies, they're brainless/
Their verses are painless, you don't feel a thing/
But every time I speak, you feel it in your veins/
Adrenaline high, my songs are do or die/
Trying to imitate my style, you can't even try/
My word play is something that you can not explain/
All these metal wannabe are just Plain Jane/
I'm changing the game, you a pawn in the way/
This King will take your Queen, it's nothing you can say/
You just trying to stay afloat, I'm the skipper on this boat/
You can either demote, or bow down and devote/
I'm coming to your town, and I'm coming with a vengeance/
Vengeful... No time for repentance/
Sinful... No time to just listen/
You can't Punk my metal so just stop pretending/
I am the superior, exterior and the ulterior/
You can not compare, it's clear that you're inferior/
The best to ever do it, the greatest to ever try it/
If I think it, it appear, all I gotta do is write it/
I spit nothing but fire, like a full submachine gun/
My verses are true, they're not repetitious/
We don't like your metal, but that's none of my business/
You a punk rocker, you should be a TikToker/
With these metal head actors, who deserve them an Oscar/
Imposters, give the people what they deserve/
And retire while you still can, hurry up I urge/
It's really your only option before you get eradicated/
You killing the metal game and my fans hate it/
I'm killing the metal game and everyone loves it/
I'm exposing all frauds, and you got busted/
Birds of the same feather hailing from different places were summoned by a warlock. They speak different languages and were transformed into something else for their dishonesty. For them to understand each other, the warlock granted them one last wish -- one language to express their thoughts. They can't do anything to please the warlock, hoping they can return to their previous appearance and identity. Right now, they are talking to each other...
"Seventy-eight years ago, I recall, I learned that I was born to be a reader. I moved from place to place for being homeless. I have no name, but people called me "Tarot." Many people everywhere in the world loved me when they discovered me. And yet, many people hated me and still hate me up to now whenever I give them bad vibes or wrong predictions. I only serve people, but never speak a word.
Deck of cards: "I am 25 years old though I know I was born fifty-two years ago. I never get old and still look young. I am dressed in four different colors and shades. I was adopted too. I was loved for so many reasons. I serve all people and can read countless things based from what my reader tells them. I don't interpret things whenever and whatever the dealer serves on the table. People hated me too because I was used in gambling. People who have lived and died, plus the new generations hate me more whenever they lose much. Only in Solitaire and other games for entertainment that people love me, if and only I give them winnings and good predictions that come true. A fortune teller loves me and hates me at the same, all his/her life."
Crystal Ball: "Stop complaining! Even myself, I was adopted many times and hated. 'Wished I'm never cursed!..."
Ouija Board: "I second the motion!... Anybody else?"
"Come to me and take my hand
Flat or rounded, I will take your stand!"
(Prosebite)
***
It was All Saints Eve, Halloween,
And from my window I watched;
Children dressed in various disguises,
Trick or treating to each house,
Where Jack-o-lanterns shined;
On Halloween Night.
Inside my house candles flickered,
The corners filled with shadow;
Upon a table was an ornate Ouija board,
Waiting for my guest to settle,
It was time to open the door;
On Halloween Night.
With our hands on the planchette,
We asked the spirits that dwelled;
To show us a sign or perhaps a presence,
A long silence was thick and eerie,
Candles blew out and a door creaked;
On Halloween Night.
We heard a man's harsh whisper,
I could feel his breath on my cheek;
As though he was leaning over me,
All of us were frozen in cold fear,
As footsteps on wood echoed away;
On Halloween night.
It was that very night in my bed,
That I felt my covers being pulled away;
And I had an odd feeling I was not alone,
I felt his open mouth hanging over me,
Then I was screaming and screaming;
On Halloween night.
___________________________
August 31, 2014
Poetry/Narrative/On Halloween Night
Copyright Protected, ID 08-595-563-31
All Rights Reserved, 2014, Constance La France
Entered in the Standard contest, Halloween (old poems),
sponsor, A Poet Destroyer, Judged 09/2014
Seventh Place
Written March 8, 2012
Death mixed with morning rain and darkness,
Icy patches hidden on the pavement
Lived comfortably on the outside
As I rode along in my car like the
Planchette of a Ouija board.
Unaware that the power(s) that be
Were battling against each other
To push my car on the board to
Spell out either life or death,
My morning thoughts
Were interrupted
By a 360 spin faster than
The distance between
Two thoughts...
Ending up muffler-first gagged on
A snowbank with nothing,
No one around for miles.
I gazed at the three-lane
Highway where LIFE
Was spelled out this time,
And realized that
DEATH may have been on the
Board thirty minutes later
During a busier time.
Thirty minutes later
Found me talking
To a mechanic
Instead of my family talking
About me in the past tense
And trying to communicate with
Me through the Ouija board.
Death inefficiently cheated
Marked off on My To Do list
For the day.
How many more times will
I be able to mark that off?
Dare I ask the Ouija board
Knowingly sitting in the corner
Of my closet?
Heartfelt readiness,
Open mind, kindred spirit
An absolute headiness
Sensing we are near it.
Communication clear,
Approaching empathy.
Completely willing spirit,
Sensing symphony.
Indicator moves,
Locked onto spirit mind.
Séance pandemonium,
Leaves me far behind.
Candles catch the gazes,
Participants engrossed.
Answers seem in mazes,
Odd clarity from ghost.
When lights are flipped
We begin to talk at length
My common sense stripped
Ouija board took strength
In the light of day
Totally unsure of senses,
Process seemed like play,
Plethora of fences.
Time slips away, confused.
Did happen or did not?
We talk about it in two’s.
Subject taboo, and often hot.
I invited friends for a Halloween party
and with the decorating I got real arty
so many spooky and evil decorations
oh, yes I was very proud of my creations
there were spiderwebs and spiders and flying bats
you could only enter "here" with a boarding pass
there were scary skeletons lurking in corners
and melancholy background music like mourners
many lighted carved pumpkins were placed everywhere
if you are brave enough to enter say a prayer
there was dark red blood (really wine) in skull glasses
and an area cleared for Halloween dances
in the parlor was an Ouija board for the brave
to contact the dead if you have that sort of crave
in the parlor was an Ouija board for the brave
to contact the dead if you have that sort of crave
many us gave it a whirl but nothing happened
and by party end the sky had deeply blackened
I said goodbye to my last party guest that night
with a sigh I said- will clean up in the daylight
I climbed up the creaky worn stairs to my bedroom
as I lay in bed I had a feeling of doom . . .
the door was opened and countless spirits entered
seems that the spirit world that night we had splintered
I was never heard of again though police searched
"in that old Ouija board I wait with a great thirst"
______________________
October 25, 2021
Poetry/Couplet/Scary Dark Night
Copyright Protected, ID 10-1400-904-25
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
The Ouija board was rocking to and fro;
our game was surely getting out of hand.
As letters spelt out DEATH to one and all,
I trembled, scared to walk away and scanned
around, expecting evil forms to pounce,
each shadow seemed to me a lurking threat.
A booming laugh sent shivers down my spine,
I prayed to God, my body wet with sweat.
The moving glass exploded; dripping blood
was oozing from the ceiling, walls and door.
The candles died, we sat in darkness, stunned,
and then I bolted, slipping on the gore.
My butchered friends were found; I told my tale,
but, now, awaiting death, I’m stuck in jail…
for Skat's Eerie contest
Gus was confused as soon as he said it.
"That was me, but it wasn't, I mean", he stammered,
"I said it, but it wasn't from my mind!"
Penney looked at Gus and reasoned,
"that is a message, you barnacle brain!"
She continued, because she HAD to.
"The spirits need our help against Hillary, evidently,
she has stabbed them in the back, and is in the
drivers seat, ready to depose them". "Just ask, Vince Foster and the myriad of others", chimed Kenny. Pedopriest Peter made an upside down cross pattern and folded his hands in prayer. "Osteen, what do we do?
How may we next serve thee?!"
The Ouija board began to jump a bit- so Gus
resumed with the feather.
"S,h,e...o,n,l,y...l,i,s,t,e,n,s...t,o...B,l,a,c,k,R,o,c,k...
A,l,e,i,s,t,e,r,C,r,o,w,l,e,y...o,r...J,e,f,f,r,e,y,E,p,s,t,e,i,n...o,r...J,o,h,n,P,o,d,e,s,t,a...A,l,b,e,r,t,B,o,u,r,l,a,O,f,P,f,i,z,e,r
(o,f,C,o,u,r,s,e,A,p,p,a,r,e,n,t,l,y,E,v,e,r,y,o,n,e,H,a,s,T,o,
L,i,s,t,e,n, T,o,T,h,i,s,O,v,e,r,l,o,r,d,O,f,D,e,a,t,h).
Gus looked his comrades over, this spirit has alot to
say! "May I ask your name?"...
"L, u, c, i,f,e,r"!
Gus had a smug look on his face,
"I knew it was one of Osteens boys!"
Gus was impossible to live with now, having called
that one, bingo!...
Form:
In Gentilly she reigns as Bastet, the daughter of Ra,
An unrepentant drop of golden sun.
Then come some rascal Baphomet, an outcast by law,
A desperado conman on the run.
She teased him with her laser pointer cat’s eyes
To get him sniffing ‘round her litter box.
He jumped at something spooky and she got his goat;
A perfect puss and booty paradox.
She’s a Fat City kitty cat
Sitting in her parlor with a Ouija board.
And she’s conjuring visions of feline intent,
Clawing at the night for her reward.
In Jefferson Parish she covers the odds
With fifty shades of gray behind the door.
Her menu offers Creole faire on Sundays;
She’ll let you taste her etouffee, and more.
In Algiers she appears like an omen,
Then vanishes again as sure as sin.
You can bet an honest dollar on her virtue,
And lose it when she plays her violin.
She’s a Fat City kitty cat.
Her Tarot cards can turn a pretty trick.
Her rivals try to plagiarize her voodoo.
She isn’t just another Cajun chick.
No, she’s a Fat City kitty cat,
A diva with a loyal entourage.
She’ll do her Fat City this and that,
And treat you to a Bourbon Street massage.