Long Pitted Poems
Long Pitted Poems. Below are the most popular long Pitted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pitted poems by poem length and keyword.
Civil War pitted neighbors against neighbors, brothers against brothers.
Lincoln would have most assuredly avoided it if he had his druthers.
He knew it was a horrible thing, and it divided the nation almost in two.
It was not his idea, but as the Union leader, what could he do?
He had the best generals who would quickly fill the nation’s need,
War needed to be over quickly; he hoped in this they would succeed.
Lincoln understood death, he had lost so many in his own family.
Knew taste of grief, and hoped the war would not last long, incredibly.
No delight in his step when the South surrendered, it was a sad day.
Many neighbors and friends had been sacrificed in such a horrible way.
Lincoln was an honest man, he knew the work was just beginning.
He was not gloating or bragging about any sort of Union winning.
Get it through your head
You aren’t the God you made yourself out to be
Parading your skills
Of art, speech and invincibility
You can’t save everyone, my friend
Your dreams can’t be your wall
You’ve been asleep and blind this whole time
And only now does your castle fall…
No.
We’re exactly alike, you and I
Pitted against the unknown
Only difference is I
Was never so alone
Now, hello me
Meet the real me!
You’re sweating bullets, friend.
Tell me what you see.
No.
One and the same, you say?
But you couldn’t be me
I would never lose sight of my goal
And I could never be set free…
No.
You’ve seen so little of this life
Trapped in your gray haze
Open your eyes and accept the light
You’ll see, there will be brighter days.
But you’ll have to work for them.
While constipation kept me in arrears,
asper daily writing,
thus ordinarily straight forward
practiced process culling material,
(a daily endeavor generally mastered
by your truly), this moment bares
with more difficulty, thus derriere's
functionality created backlog
(of personal business),
hence presenting literary chops,
a real bummer today,
disgruntlement with Fanny Pack,
(which gripe flares
cheeks) pitted me considerably
behind schedule, so...here's
the scoop (hoop fully solid explanation
for my absence) amidst
virtual chattering class
otherwise known as Face booking,
Instagramming, and Whatsapp
pin with ma Jeers
zee Boyz'n the hood,
ah...also dem "Back Street Boys"
oh mother f***er...,
I just learned day got eliminated
and blocked, (cuz o' their wiped out,
wasted, sunken,
flushed, dumpy untidily
bowled over appearances),
Sergeant Scott Coreless forced their
evacuation citing Lumineers
as more ass toot,
hence the emcee then welcomed,
opening dreck "Johnny On The Spot,"
and the "The Proctologists,"
who performed before nares
Naked Lady sighted spectators, with
lovers spooning within cheeky pairs
otherwise, essentially a pooped out crowd
sitting on their haunches,
while myself perched
some distance away
with my comfortably numb tuckus
atop the porcelain Goddess
a awaiting emetic to expel
for iCloud to finish updating
before continuing with sign out...
from this Macbook Pro,
which aye sheepishly pro state
as the long winded soup peer
re: or (flatulence riddled) explanation.
I hate robocalls!
Inxs of recorded messages
transmitted automatically
to my telephone number
by automatic dialing device.
I turn off damn ringer,
and disassemble (carefully
as disabling a time bomb)
internal workings nevertheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls
digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English
differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape
gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench
get catapulted into
outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
(minus the green eggs)
oh... yes even after life,
while weightlessly
pinwheeling in limbo,
particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...
yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal
spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author
instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly,
egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly
vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)
sundering coalescence
regarding colonizing black screen
aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,
contributes to conspiracy theory
linkedin with ghost calls
thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams
on a green day.
Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living person
asked courteously by his name
of the human league,
I police tell the caller
purely coincidental!
Doomsday Clock January 2022...
the most recent tabulation
signaled one hundred seconds to midnight
A couple years ago
similarly titled poem I did write,
yet looms as harbinger unless
*****sapiens can unite
one non Yiddish speaking
Ongematert wishing ye
fare thee well tonight
before betokening apocalyptic sight
'course one must go about
her/his business - right?
Rhetorical question - yet
impossible mission quite
challenging, where one
brother grimm ponders plight
Cosmofunnel favorite fan
Katina Borgersen "poof"
our acquaintanceship dissolved
(think - snapped fingers) outright
regardless, whether...
perchance we ever
cross paths long daze
journey into night
met under virtual reality moonlight
ah... the mere awareness
of her existence
metaphorically found modest, mercurial
mellow male within limelight
oy vey admittedly one
rusty Ongepatshket knight
fumbling in the dark with
his unreliable sputtering jacklight
hooping aforesaid gal whose eyes alight
upon mine genuine words doth newt
coon sitter me laughable, nor impolite,
yet accept hard reality to highlight
and/or _ underscore delight
full dame online - each of us,
an infinitesimal jot of granulite
within vast cosmos given finite
minuscule time to excite
our senses trending utmost delight
during brief unique
deoxynucleic chromosomal copyright
til death do us part,
whether natural demise
or... huge mushroom
clouds radioactive blight
unimaginable nightmarish scenario
impossible mission to close third eye blind
webbed global haunting spectacle
mortal creatures linkedin to ill fate
including yours truly,
a generic, garden variety
hermetically sealed cell bit anchorite.
Uneasiness far greater
to confront atomic augury
than pernicious penury
which ceases within eyeblink
far more serious than perjury
nonetheless afflicting me
with psychological injury.
Personal finances pitted
me deep in hock
into red room zone,
shining thru the mist
story, yes I experience
quite a shell shock,
to absorb inconvenient truth
great swaths of Gaia
analogous to dead zone,
nevertheless, now finds yours
truly poorest, oldest, and nerdiest
curmudgeon goofy "kid"
on the chopping block
within Lake Wobegon
hard space and third rock
from sun as inevitable doom
inches closer as each second elapses
insync with inaudible tick tock.
Suppose the Enemy invades your town.
No cellphones, then: no Instagram,
no Rachel Maddow, there to break it down.
The only thing to do, if in a jam,
if lacking WhatsApp or Securicam,
is send a runner out, to warn your friends.
They’ll thank you warmly, when the danger ends.
The menace of the moment? Marathon
was under siege by eastern hordes (that’s Persian).
Victorious here, they’d soon descend upon
immortal Athens. Such a vile incursion
could not be countenanced. The better version
was beating the invader where he stood.
“Our name would live for ever, if we could!”
In one respect, the West outstrips the East.
(You think me xenophobic? Hear me out!)
To us, a king, a noble or a priest
is merely one of us: though he may shout,
he’s nothing special, has no inbuilt clout.
We don’t like tyrants. If we make a plan,
we all invest in it, as best we can.
The eastern mind, you’ll find, incurs more losses
because the mass of people, uncommitted,
does what it’s told by oligarchs and bosses.
The social ranks, compliant but not knitted,
will not withstand the enemy. They’re pitted
against free men. The Persians, soon depleted,
threw down their spears, were easily defeated.
But Athens needs to know what happened here.
The mother-culture needs our expertise:
no hoarding, boarding, fractiousness or fear.
We need a man to put our friends at ease:
who should we send? Of course! Pheidippides!
Amigo, you’re our runner: it’s you who’s
entrusted with the bearing of the news.
How many miles to Athens? Twenty-six!
Pheidippides would do it at a run.
This wasn’t boring, petty politics:
the threat is dead – democracy has won!
He disappeared into the setting sun.
The allies were apprised of Marathon’s pride:
Pheidippides, job done, exhausted, … died!
Protean nucleic processes
polemic yield
explosive diversification
punctuated equilibrium
Stephen J. Gould
Paleontological hypothesis
spawning sudden flora and fauna
competed against diametrically opposed diatribe
pairing diehard Religionists
versus Doubting Thomists
which Creationist advocates
threatened non-believers
with damnation and eternal punishment
spake brotherhood of God brethren thru tongue did wield.
Pompous empiricists
fire and brimstone sermons on the mount
excruciating punishment of soul would yield
claimants who refute intelligent design theorists
to explain away biological gaps
extant within evolutionary field
said Biblical creationists belief
pitted dogmatic atheistic crusaders
to fight tooth and nail
with scimitar and shield!
The blade penetrated the flesh
like a prong to a pitted plum
he had played with war
toyed with war
yet the gun
well the gun didn't have balls
Not for him the sterile
three shrouds removed
expunging of visera with a gun
sissy pistols
pansy takers
Stick um good
part the seas of red
wake and feed the hounds of war
plastic pop-guns shatter beneath the heel of Mars
Man UP, raise the staff
and shove the pig sticker into mother's child
Oh man, war, Old Man War
do you visit him each night as you enter
what should be the path to love?
Have a poke little man
just remember, all that was is ...
and will be born again.
Dedicated to a constant friend and inspiration Chris Aechtner
Inspired by his write "kids use toy guns'
Das dada = codified bonafide anachronism
me thoughts infused
with thom hankering for yesteryear
circa antebellum i.e.
American Civil War era veer
rilly, teetering, smoldering, rumbling
upon iniquitous tier
United States greenacres crossroads
with petticoat junction spear
ritually hexed courtesy anti abolitionists
pitted against unfair
slavery, yours truly spellbound
gravitating, fixating, entrancing,
an invisible sonneteer
disembodied spirit transported
back in time,
qua closing first decade
of twenty century aware
how historical events will unfold,
yet lacking means
to affect alternate outcome,
though yearning to spare
fledgling democracy deaf to blare
ring coming fury me unseen
relishing preponderant naiveté
and childlike innocence
before internecine warfare
many stripling young lads,
yet to sprout facial hair
trumpeting, scampering, rejoicing
after favored lass with no care
gathering rosebuds while they may
before their brave hearts got
touched, torched, taxed...
with fire, ah... so cavalier
wondering, speculating, nursing
curiously piqued how adaware
those who frolicked
within Autumn mist did revere
observing what didst appear
oblivious laughter and attitude
analogous to good cheer
omnipresent at Renaissance Faire,
no doubt trials and tribulations
compromised welfare
envious countless scores generations
past knew not global threats,
nonetheless societal fabric circa
early/mid nineteenth century
severely wrenched when
Emancipation Proclamation didst declare
manumision, though sadly
blatant anti semitism, bigotry, racism...,
trumpeted within rank putrid odor
doth still fill the air!
I saw an old wagon wheel in the antique store the other day.
What type of vehicle it must have conveyed, I couldn't really say,
But I let my imagination roam as I studied the old wheel,
And pondered its odyssey and what secrets it might reveal.
Its iron tire was pitted and rusted due to age.
The wooden spokes were intact but their age was hard to gauge.
Its diameter was about five feet and its tread six inches wide.
Ah, if it could only speak to me, its mysteries to confide!
Could it have carried a pioneer family in a Conestoga wagon west,
With the anticipation of a new beginning in their relentless quest!
It with other wagon wheels rutted well-worn trails along the way,
And traces of those treacherous routes are seen to this very day!
Could it have graced an army lorry drawn by cantankerous mules,
Driven by a pugnacious trooper to deliver hay, grub and tools?
The wear and tear was evident due to many military campaigns,
Crossing perilous rivers, mountain heights and endless arid plains.
Or could it have borne a farmer's wagon as he plied his trade,
Hauling crops of wheat, corn and oats once the harvest was made?
Oh, the many miles it endured through the mud, dust and snow!
I left the store still musing about its odyssey of so very long ago.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired