Long Outwitting Poems
Long Outwitting Poems. Below are the most popular long Outwitting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Outwitting poems by poem length and keyword.
WD-40 resistant, cranky
mental gears no longer appraised,
honored, nor prized
as a precision crafted tool
never adequately utilized,
when eyes stared blankly
taking up space and
time (sigh hence) during
during twelve years
of public school
passively mute as a general rule
ambivalent, whether I sank or swam
during physical education
time in the pool
evincing being in
somnambulant state giving
top notch 40 ache curs and a mule
a run for his/her money,
plus also outwitting
any motley fool
nonetheless garnering huzzahs
if challenged to silent duel
despite implacable blackened
barbs didst unspool
assaulting me though
vicious and cruel
fast forward to
Matthew Scott Harris
at this present age
once feigned numbskull,
now deeply rutted,
pockmarked, cratered, asper
useful as fist size asteroid,
which post mortem will
not surprisingly, definitively,
and conclusively gauge
imagine dissecting my
fifty plus shades
of gray matter
revealing analogously glommed
together one severely
gunked up bacteriophage,
where once upon a time,
when a newborn babe
feeling warmth mother's chest,
she long since
passed away forced guest
to attend masquerade
hosted by grim reaper,
a most nefarious,
obnoxious, and pernicious pest
intricately, handsomely, genetically
her cremated remains
freed to the four corners
of the globe quest
inert particles integrated
within biosphere, she remains
perpetually in motion,
and never at rest
within infinite void
nonetheless...the spirit
of (the late) Harriet Harris
passed the electric
acid kool aid test,
and thus continues
to sprinkle the world
wide web with zest.
The comic chases laughter; bright applause beneath bright lights.
Each joke returns with cheers, sparkling with flared highlights.
The poet casts quiet braided fly-lines into uncertain free air,
Not knowing where they'll settle, trusting someone to find them there.
Laughter often arrives on cue before another punchline starts.
The comic plays the audience, outwitting the many clever upstarts.
The poet leans into the silence, hoping words reach waiting hearts.
They both treasure every thud and thump from well-flung verbal darts.
The comic trims each story into punchlines, sharp and strong.
The poet weaves in small clues and prompts, inviting readers along.
One, harvests roaring raucous applause, that fills every room.
The other, sows small seeds, expecting next spring flowers, will bloom.
The comic reaps the harvest well before the last laughter dies.
A joke can miss completely, falling flat in befuddled ears and eyes.
A poet keeps on casting many more lines, despite the lows and highs.
Awakening lost memories, with hushed oohs, ahhs, and silent sighs.
Of course there's slam, where poets chase applause with a spoken or sung flame.
Their verses leap from silent sullen pages, eager to stake their claim.
The crowd joins in with cheers and snaps, each heartbeat keeping time.
Half stand-up act, half-hand crafted verse — both reaching for the sublime.
Cheer there is such a thing as political karma
Sneer as your career fell off a pier Keir Starmer
No panacea clear nadir we jeer at sheer drama
Come forth King of the North such a charmer
Life so rife with strife & won’t make it calmer
But better go getter trend setter & vote farmer
Coup not out of the blue...Andy the embalmer
Outwitting Keir who’s been spitting like a llama
Might not become a peer or knight in armour
Rejection then ejection he’s an election harmer
A phony baloney Tony crony no Barack Obama
More banal bananarama than BBC's panorama
Out of date mate like melon & ham from Parma
Chance of return from exile same as Dalai Lama
Lost to a show pony time for a holiday in Palma
She was born six years after Post World War One.
It was the first morning of May that she beat the blazing sun.
She was a beautiful honey color, with light brown eyes, and cold black hair.
However, there was one imperfection that captured a stare.
From the top of the crown of her head to the forehead was shaded by a black veil.
With culture feasting and celebration of a newborn shlep along spiritual tales.
Prophecies of a real loving mother are indescribable biblical.
Her mother's love for her was solid and unconditional.
It was her mother's requiem for her to receive salvation.
With enthusiastic haste for time, she received ritual purification.
She was a jovial child until she reached her inevitable spiritual compass task.
From a tender touch of a child's hand, engender a ringing in the ear, a strong smell of raw potatoes, and a death-like mask.
An encroaching vision of dark shades of color appeared of a child that suffered a venomous snake bite.
In just quick measure of minutes, she returned to the light.
There was a ring of people with thundering voices that were charged with fear.
As to what took place she was unclear.
There were many speculative views about incarnation.
There were many views with many miserable accounts of persuasion.
Even with many outwitting opinions, she accepted the worth of her enigma as a benefit once she realized that the beneficial part was in saving the young child's life.
She was keenly aware that the mysterious infirmity was bound to cause her some strife.
January 24, 2023
In days of old the poets told a tale
A scout rode out to search the unforseen
To gather food and drink, to blaze a trail
A pious nobleman, charged by his queen
He was a fearless man and very wise
Outwitting those mistaking him a fool
His principles he would not compromise
His creed of life, "Obey the Golden Rule"
For many years he rode and sacrificed
His health and wealth, yet never one complaint
His pay for services grossly mispriced
They mourned him in the end, a selfless saint
The poets often cried, the tale so sad
His queen decreed henceforth,"He'll be called Dad"
Daniel Turner
Thank you Dad
Form = Free Range Verse
The Hunt
Mans desire to hunt
Testing skills from the beginning of time
I had outfitted myself the day before
With camouflage, and all the tools of the trade
The excitement of catching my prey
Outwitting my fellow hunter a plenty
Tracking for hours and hours on end
Off I went in search of the trophy
In my jeep and down the hunters path
Being not so familiar with the terrain
I often backtracked, here and there
Moving from one place to the other
Silently and with anticipation
Looking forward to bringing home my kills
I had already a few scores to my name
Now for the final
The pièce de résistance
That made the hunt all the worth while
Bang! I got it
Hunts Tomato sauce in Isle seven
Oh how good the spaghetti dinner will be
Hope she appreciates all the fine hunting you see
I have done at Wal-Mart to make this evening show
Candles and guitar in the shimmering moonlight
The hunter so proud for being her shopping Knight!
Outward brain stem hummock
analogously, (asper bound
minuscule magnum opus)
figuratively paginated with drowned
atavistic animal instincts
roar back to life upon found
perceived or real threat adrenaline
splashes cerebral hemispheres
triggering body electric
to become alert as a bloodhound
countless millenniums ago
the flight or fight reaction apropos
when savage beasts
threatened tribe with bro
whizzing primitive creatures
some forced tweet crow
wing, thence railing, swooping,
trouncing dough
main housing small cluster of emo
ting primates (gabbling in primal
grunts and groans witnessing ruminants
scurrying to and fro
survival of the fittest danger field
thus by dint of inherent smarts didst grow
outwitting wily coyote, or other lion eyes, hoe
ping automatic saving grace tactics recalled,
when looming predator doth woof
and warp emergency arises,
when debacle fore stalled
for time against getting mauled
whereby each subsequent ruse
out foxing fierce-some, hungry non a mew
zing potential breakfast, lunch,
or dinner as the sorry loo
sir aye sic newton, sans
this non nonsense game of "Life",
which thru countless millenniums strategies grew
layered upon left and right cerebral hemispheres few
till hetty became diminished
as proper contra bands of bipedal hominids drew
upon accumulated storied history
learned from Bubba Zayda's
many times over motley (foolish) crew
squirreling modus operandi
wove (traversing eons)
corpus collosum hair
(more so nerve fiber weave
a microscopic whirled wide web linkedin
left and right fist size gray matter
coated with transparent integument
custom made swiftly tailored sleeve
ah...proving grounds,
when forebears of *****Sapiens
touch and go tagged on permanent leave
on par with imagining dragons easy to believe.
Kaleidoscopic optic, nervous eyes;
Blinking disbelief while dropping
Moisture-laden kisses.
Each one misses.
Sorrow such an individual thing.
Truth be said,
There are places that it cannot go.
We cannot go.
No one can go.
Until they go.
That is when all barriers collapse.
Mighty sinewed synapses
Coagulate no more.
All are sprung as spring
With no more traps.
All are papered to the wall.
All is as before,
Between the sex and naps.
This manufactured mill
Will spit and spill,
Toil and kill,
Leave its mark upon this soiled rug.
A hound in heat.
Windowless, stenching odor;
Crawling, Clawing,
Outwitting air, displacing care,
Releasing coiled form
To strike a soul.
Reminding you
To take your pill,
Eat your fill,
pick up all you spill.
Stand outside your head for just a moment.
Feel the life that’s bled from you.
The morsels that are fed to you
Envy for a bread that’s new.
Waiting to seize a prize you never knew
Existed.
You are the smoke that others of your tribe
Insisted,
must be true.
Each of you is you.
Smoke reflected in the mirror.
One and Only Holy Terror
All your nightmares dream of;
The other side of love.
That I could ever cease to love you dearly;
How possible is this?
As possible as wearing water
Possible as eating air
As stacking Space
As folding Time
Possible as going on happily without you
As possible as outwitting God.
What is being loved by you like;
How does it feel?
Like happy five year olds on Christmas morning
Like redemption for the Damned
Like being found when lost
Like the end of war and famine
Like health come back to the invalid
Like everything accepted and complete.
And what are we together;
The Sum above the parts?
We are the feeling always striven for
We are the impossible balance acheived
We are the hope that no one speaks of
We are the dream no one believes
We are the level holding everything
We are the reason to go on.
So this is how I love you;
How it shall ever be.
Affable unflappable an incomparable parable & fable
Telegraph path defending ending era sending a cable
As Indian power does deflower our Test tower of Babel
Reliant on our defiant thoroughbred in the Kiwi stable
Does what says on the label as Kane so keen and able
Hushed kudos so humble yet giant sat at the top table
Hardy a great first rate trait played ball late almost tardy
Held aloft by hands so soft weaving his third man spree
Inner fire to the wire winner desire is Kane down to a tee
Outwitting Kohli and sitting pretty on top of the WTC tree
Fitting in his twilight dimming the limelight is not about me
Travesty not to marvel at artistry & majesty of his tapestry
Heavenly ability with angelic humility part of a holy trinity
Stoic & heroic Martin's successor a professor still ego free
With Crowe & Hadlee bestow Black cap history our nobility
Affinity for infinity for all three so totally Kiwi simply divinity