Long Piqued Poems
Long Piqued Poems. Below are the most popular long Piqued by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Piqued poems by poem length and keyword.
COME TO THE WATERS
"Come all you who are thirsty, come to the waters..."Isaiah 55:15
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Childhood home woven with integrity,
parents steadfast, their moral compass strong.
But talk of faith was silent,
void of scriptures, hymns, or prayers.
Childhood a swirling dervish of unknowing,
wisdom teachings foreign,
the stories of miracles untold
in a heart yearning to understand.
Then came the halls of learning; literature and philosophy
opening the curtains bringing in light of new insights.
Still, church and religion stood half a world away,
the Light never pulling me in.
Not until I met him, the man with a pastor's heart,
his voice carrying the richness of ancient texts,
a man who spoke of love woven in sacrifice,
of the journey towards growth, faith, and salvation.
His patience, a calm and steady river,
flowed over me,
smoothing out doubt’s rough edges,
gently carving a riverbed of understanding.
Now, in the quiet of our shared evenings,
my interest piqued in the biblical passages he shares,
I find solace in the warmth of wisdom,
and grace in every story, as faith softly unfurls.
Each day, guided by conviction and strength,
together we navigate our lives creating
an ocean of faith, love, and hope~
our days filled with wonder, color, and grace.
Poem written for “How You Feel and How God Feels Poetry Contest,” Sara Kendrick, sponsor, July 31, 2025
The other day I saw the most pathetic thing I think I shall ever see!
It was so macabre and shocking that it piqued my curiosity!
Seems this old miser died having atoned for his many transgressions,
But was adamant about taking with him all his earthly possessions!
He had derided that well-known saw, "you can't take it with you",
And asserted, "Them's my things that took a lifetime to accrue!"
Even on his deathbed as he breathed his last and ceased to function,
He fretted about his stuff as the priest administered extreme unction!
In the funeral procession behind the hearse was a huge U-Haul truck,
Containing his suits and shoes, booze and gold plus all his other ruck!
Oft' I've pondered about that old tightwad and his ultimate fate,
And how St Peter handled the matter when he greeted him at the Gate!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
"Possums on the Run - Part 2"
No ice cream,
cupboard’s bare
ultra Fahrenheit sun,
hang out the clothes
do the dinner run,
setting table,
setting sun,
Can of Irish Stew, mashed potatoes,
Baked Beans, toast -
no Sunday Roast -
cordon blue, delectable, what fun…
Fruit Bats flying,
Yellow crested Cockatoo screams
Pink Galahs are joking
Kookaburra’s laughing
rabbit in the back yard again
where’d it come from?
Shakes her head, thinks,
“It’s escaping, it’s on the run”.
The other two are dying,
they’ve gone awol,
jumped the fence
drank the Mick priests’
alter wine and then some,
time to mention
the box of Dad’s Wine Club
she thinks, “ bloody hell,
they’ve gone wild. Why me?
Why am I left with
the Primary School Club?”
He’s gonna be home soon
she turns the shower on
stands them up quick,
cold water rushing down,
anxiety sets in thick,
adrenalin rush
heart boom-boom-boom
“Quick!” she cries, “Quick!”
stand them up under cold water
in the shower, “Quick, Quick, Quick!”.
“Come on l’il sista”,
the kid’s laughing,
like it’s fun
sober up before Five,
he’s gonna be home soon
“god! The Father
and the son…
We’re Done! Done! Done!”
Flyscreen door, mosquito coils
here comes the Kimberley’s roar
it’s 5pm,
all looks normal
li’l sister sitting up sober and brave
table’s set, dinner’s ready
where’s the other one?
She’s laying flat out,
counting zzzzz’s
'cause she hit the ruddy rum!
Shake her, wake her up
the King is home, surf’s up
din-din’s on...
Steak N Kidney Puddin’
from the tin
“Wake Up! Runi-B-Kahrun,” she
whisper-screams on the run
to the dinner table,
“get quick to the kitchen, run, run, run!”
Small town blues
bugger it, bugger bum
(Aussie Slang nothing
nefarious) run, run, run
That was yesterday
table set, dinner done
debate around the table
“Tids”, he says with concern,
“you're looking rather piqued, better
go rest some”.
Another day is done.
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 Jan)
1. Simple Minds/Everything She Said
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T2uqUjJQwGY
Planting seeds of life - growing self awareness...
(Subtitled: kudos beloved Amelie Beth)
Dilly gents gal lore spellbinding
metaphorically exhuming, ferreting, gleaning...
insightful handy dandy blues clues
unearthing treasure trove motherlode,
(and father lode) eye opening discover re:
visa vis our family of origin ancestry.
Painstaking efforts undertaken
courtesy thee i.e. eldest sister
(age difference between her and yours truly
thirteen months and twelve days)
ye (figuratively) dug deep
within plethora of genealogical database
mine insight piqued
following genetic revelations.
Raw bits (nuggets - comstock
rivalling wealth of Croesus
sowed countless generations ago)
enlightened this protoplasmic broth heir,
(a biological composite dada
elicited factoids ginning
humongous, illustrious, judicious...
awareness, that allows, enables provides...
knowledge linking me deoxynucleic acid
with forebears, whose good n plenti
inherited characteristics, desires
(under the elms), mannerisms,
predilections, quirks, urges,
yearnings, et cetera contra dance,
flickr, golong, kindle, shutterfly...
within mine contemplative,
intuitive, reflective...soul asylum
explaining, informing, liberating...
natural inquisitiveness percolating within,
not necessarily to excuse
deleterious, egregious, infamous...
(hyperbole for poetic impact)
behavior (mine), nonetheless
delighting, educating, fascinating...
assimilating, bridging, semen ting
heritage invariably jumpstarting
dormant desire to acquire
increased comprehension whereby,
I experience surge to learn
greater familiarity affecting
heightened awareness, where
countless questions once incubated
regarding spiritual communion,
where lovely bones of mein kampf
feel linkedin with spirits
of thee dead ancestors.
Hence awesome accomplishment
piecing together (with assistance from relatives)
once puzzling enigma shrouding
past lives (not sainted)
comprising Harris family of origin.
The most dangerous sicknesses are those that make us believe we are well.
Lauren Oliver
sunrise transcends from thousand white moons
enamelling specks of gold over a vast mindscape
untamed ocean, hypnotic in opulence of delight
losing in timeless fathom, all beginnings and ends
In daze of hazel eyes, a pale destiny painted red
concoction of stardust in resplendent phoenix flame
Iconic images in mesmeric limerance of rhapsody
play a subtle movie, in slow tempo, treble with bass.
An entangled world of uncensored thoughts meander
condescending a center of cinematic subconscious
dissembling into a daydream swimming wonderlands
Van Gogh's Starry Nights seducing languorous senses.
a pleasant hangover , still drunk in my weariness,
don't wake me, I'm piqued in amor deliria nervosa*
an everlasting fantasy stretches in kohl of my eyes,
an Illusion of life gasping, or is it death in disguise?
*Amor Deliria Nervosa (or just deliria) is a disease in the fiction series Delirium Trilogy by Lauren Oliver. It is set in a dystopian world where love is considered a disease called Amor Deliria Nervosa, but scientists have invented a cure for it.
18th July 2020
Sponsor Kai Michael Neumann
Contest Name Delirium |
Whit dat tight till - say
yes, aye wool thank ewe
mooch at least for today
hoof fully (this Joe kerr)
can easily bide his time weigh
beef hoar rammy cows come home.
Meantime India interim
lemme clover - reaching
far out on dam moost precarious limb,
bot do nut inspect me tub bark prim
and proper, nor procrastinate for tim
marrow, cause spontaneous whim
will lose heft, no matter how inane
poetic palaver could by then
elude ding me noggin to explain
nebulous jibber jabber hokey folderol
even confusing to a Great Dane
a dog (of course)
man's/woman's beast friend,
not hounding visa vis discovering
you improperly verb (bait him)
bone a fied with noun (sense)
barking up wrong tree
dangling modifier as gerund
faux paws and inquisitive,
nonetheless countenance do lend
sincere cachet gnome hatter compared
to average superficial *****sapien
said former doggone creature just thru
facial expression can mend
"broken" heart and soul,
which rhyming tangent did send
yours truly off scent, asper initial trend
actually truth be told, no paw tickle har
matter, I sought to sink teeth into,
but let babbling stream of consciousness wend,
where petty full extemporaneous tooting
oh my didgeridoo, which initially scares
the dickens out gills of hooting
blowfish until they recognize
this bloke juiced pooting
air thru a long wooden tube, be yule
then their piousness piqued to pisces,
gather together as if attending school
always mindful to follow
the goldenfish rule
i.e. aldi tom not erring,
floundering, and getting
tricked, royally suckered, and
hooked becoming gruel
resulting within tummy higher
up the feeding chain,
survival of dragnets cruel.
fission expedition for
salmon to hope fillet
enjoys almost done hook,
line and sinker - hooray,
sans to steal mental energy,
and precious time may
king another reason to be
persnickety and every ray
zen to be guarded, when
wading in cyber seas tay
king precautions, once
I return from Uruguay.
Let's ponder last time Rego the ego was over yonder in the Iberico peninsula ..our hero was fonder of the wonder of Ronda but now does wander through the beauty & fruity booty that cutie Oporto does bestow… (in house joke...there is no radio embargo for this rhyming cargo so back to you in the studio)
Can't recall if we ever talked at all about how we virtually stalked Porto
A viral spiral as we did dream and scheme of moving there for a mo
Then balked too late deranged climate all changed mate too scorchio
Burned by the rage on the centre stage of a teenage tyro turned pyro
But what do you know ho ho ho…it's the Rego Ego in Oporto show
Jammy mutt strut out of any rut from Redditch hut far & away you yo yo
Smut of getting half cut a holiday foray glut such a sl*t.. a true pro or ho
But tut tut apropos bitter blow new shi**er low an at home sitter can't go
My career did park it… left the market now sign on for giro with my biro
Crow finances a foe.. so woe of ambassadors not in a row you flying solo
We should be tourers toe to toe explorers like Marco Polo with me in tow
As long as about assado not Fardo rather hear a song from Nelly Furtado
Naughtiness not haughtiness to and fro cheeky ebb & flow of going gung ho
Know your next photo will bring the frustration of a great crustacean crescendo
Gasping at the rasping sheen of a lean barbecued sardine no echo of Pinocchio
Ah grasping a calamari safari love the art deco but you can shove the prosecco
No braggadocio clasping fino or nerdy vinho verde or scarlet harlot starlet tinto
Hard for Euro aficionado as you scoff avocado & lardo tartlet from the mercado
Hope foody bingo is bravissimo dope & bellissimo though know is wrong lingo
So hey ho or nonny no bonny Rego in Porto is brassier than Portugeezer Luis Figo
Bigger teaser & pleaser classier than gusto & bravado of another dynamo Eusebio
Drinking sinking fort-ified wine quaff port like it's a sport holding court on the Douro
Envy piqued oh Rego never a fuddy duddy ruddy cheeked plucky bloody lucky so & so
THE MONSTER YOU DREAD
i can’t handle rejection,
the unhug of perfection.
a piercing scream of perplexion —
my complexion streaked
grouted and piqued.
i backhanded you by
closing the splintered door,
vainglorious to the core —
now you can’t see the open sore.
you never uncovered, never looked,
never came to find me, i’m overlooked.
hiding beneath the bed, i’m the monster
you dread — tear-salted tongue, the martyr
with claws tearing at my skin - my fear
that she sips her coffee carelessly - oh dear...
the suicidal stripes down my cheeks sear
as my mother wanders through her year.
if only a look, a hug, a kind word spoken
to me would tear me from this sea forsaken —
this torrent, harangue of waves, haplessly
dashing, against heart and soul. if only a creak,
a scintilla of light would peek into
my claustrophobic space, saving me from me.
but i, only i...must resolve, unhinge the lock,
step out and see the clearing of the crock...
all alone on my private island - its unsecured dock.
i pretend it never mattered but carry the doom
within my flesh, my invisible childhood looms.
ready at turn to rear its misshapen head, its claws
digging into a buried past — all my flaws...
jealousy pops up in the middle of my joy
i stomp the frenetic beast, clawing its face.
i refuse to be that monster, that disgrace!
6/14/2019
Move me Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Richard Lamoureux
Strolling along a winding country lane the other day,
I came upon a desolate cemetery in abysmal disarray.
'Twas barely visible, hidden among overgrown weeds and brambles;
Untended over time, it had fallen into an appalling shambles.
I paused at the sagging, rusted gate to gaze upon the forlorn scene;
A trampled sign said it was established in eighteen-seventeen.
My curiosity was piqued about those who were within interred;
The stones were weathered with age, their etchings very blurred.
A misty rain started to fall as I began my pensive walk-about;
Adding to the dreary scene, a raven startled me with its raucous shout!
Did I detect the murmuring of phantoms gossiping about this intruder?
Or was it the sigh of wafting zyphers soughing 'mongst the cedar?
I meandered about the stones noting each epitaph and name.
Old soldiers lay in hallowed graves having won their nation's acclaim;
Pioneers who settled the land lay awaiting Gabriel's clarion call;
Graves of little children were scattered about, adding to the pall.
If it were in my power the mists of time to reverse,
'Twould be fascinating with these long-gone denizens to converse,
I suspect that among other things that they might say,
Is, 'Restore the beauty of this place where we sleep beneath the clay!'
SERENITY
Wash me with glory’s waterfall and evergreen.
Jehovah-Rapha recharge the endorphins.*
The pine needles tickle my nose with scent.
The swoosh of skirted cascade in forest serene.
The polished rocks under bare feet, the flow
of cool stream that caresses my toes.
Defeat cleansed from my soul. I splash
salubrious waters into crevices of my woes.
Surrounded by the verdant forest of peace -
no sticks and stones to break my bones.
I am cosseted in this fairytale spell
with glorious birdsong and romantic caprice.
Symmetry of footfall through winsome waters.
Rushing precipice of suds release sore impurities.
Stationary giggles, gurgling cheeks piqued.
Serenity is servant of the King’s daughter.
9/18/2019
Picturesque Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Eve Roper
*Jehovah-Rapha - The Lord who heals