Long Pitting Poems
Long Pitting Poems. Below are the most popular long Pitting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pitting poems by poem length and keyword.
Loosing (lou sing) the damn rumors...
Torpedo style full speed ahead
keeping me in suspense,
what salacious gossip
gets browned, buttered, rolled
down the alley and bred
into unsavory tidbits,
these souffled ears dread
to hear hard boiled morsels
poached, scrambled, whipped
donning barren falsehoods
zeitgeist spouting dunderhead
trumpeting hex pence heave
signature border wall
inside this weatherbeaten egghead
sponge bobbing squarepants,
whereby passers by some with fathead
steer clear avoiding your truly
wobbly, and zany fountainhead
even atlas shrugged his shoulders
in repugnance at mine R.E.M. bored
heavy slimy algal filled
legally tendered greenhead
thank dog - me noggin
rock solid hardhead
able to withstand falsehoods
pitting this uber capital one
tindered linkedin lyfted loggerhead
with silent springing
black barbs snubbed from lunkhead
argh, those cruel verbal slings
fired weapons courtesy
mass destruction multiwarhead
lobbed, rocket propelled, tear gassed
glancing off cratered moon faced pate
said vicious unfounded nailhead
sharp hearsay twittering
with wingspan outspread
pterodactyl by bajillion miles exceeded
size of Sheepshead
Bay, I knew best to tread
softly, and carry big stick
admonished by Teddy Roosevelt
in conjunction with unifying thread
primarily on issues
in mathematics and logic
advanced by Alfred North Whitehead,
hence we must find another
place to escape widespread
senior citizens acting juvenile,
maybe a place gravely wrested
or willingly conceded
from grateful dead.
We all collect something
it is natural to collect
the greater one's purse
the more varied and
abundant his verse. So~
even divine poets literally
not immune
a puddle, a shallow indentation
gathers
a sea, a basin of immense fill
greater renown – we all collect something
drips and drops, torrents of collecting!
Everywhere bloating affections abound –
stamps, vehicles, baubles of glitter~lightning
to wear and flash around
God and the Devil
competing for souls
everything collects something
even collections seeming magnets
for thieves
and dust
pitting and rust
polishing of sorts
affixed to all our lust
we all collect
stuffing our hearts full
until finite hearts bust
the final verse
a new universe
free from collection
my hope
Do I have to scold you and remind
you that time is too precious
to be wasted on silly games?
Laugh pitiful, fool, laugh...
not a single line of any attempted
conquest can change this awareness!
Do I ever get annoyed and top my ears
not listening, just pitting your silliness,
but being the center of attention...
you find it hard to be let down!
Laugh, pitiful fool, laugh...nothing
can change your perspective on life
and the insincerity you hide;
laugh, pitiful fool, laugh...everything
has consequences and losses,
and this chance you toss for pride!
Scorpio and Aquarius aren't a match,
there are no beautiful stars to catch;
one extremely quiet, the other too wild...
one very warm, the other completely cold!
Laugh, pitiful fool, laugh...nobody
can do evil and not be punished;
laugh, pitiful fool, laugh...everybody
is aware of your craft to be deceived
and not be loved with sincerity!
Never smile and hold hands or run wild,
never listen to the pelting rhythm of the rain,
never hear the loud cry of the howling wind;
isn't it better to be on a getaway train?
Chasing this into that, chasing that into this.
Chasing silhouettes into a half-assed crevasse.
Echoing, "Boy, what is your purpose on this good earth?"
Poking the dark for a piece of velvet, a note from a harp.
A claw pokes at the skin of the soul.
A change of direction is needed again... pronto.
Mamma was right. Nothing good comes out of the dark.
Eating the light like a greasy moth.
Pitting parched lips against brightness.
Just another false prophet holding an empty Bic pen.
In the cul-de-sac of middle-class wish.
At least it was an honest attempt to find a grain of meaning.
In the dusk of my breath, the same silhouette yaps...
"Man, what is your purpose on this planet"?
Posted on Christmas Eve, happy cuz Trump soon leaves
America finally gets a reprieve from the lies he weaves
Well, pardon ME if you disagree, but he's one and done
He's been pardoning crooks, murderers, daughter & son
giving the phrase, "Who let the dogs out?" the answer
It's the narcissist who infected the country with cancer
It's time for a celebration and Happy New Year to cheer
A new President will reside in the White House next year
Trump will have to vacate his throne. It's been conferred.
No fraud took place or election rigging. That was absurd!
Joe Biden will be moving into 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
Uniting our country without Trump's drama and ballyhoo
What a poor example he's been as a leader; head of state
America was better off before he said he'd make it great.
Move along with your counterfeit tan and puckered mouth
Take your cocky kids with you as you putt your way South.
Let's hope once he's gone, out great nation will soon heal
with a commander who can keep our ship on an even keel
"Trump's descended into madness," "He's lost his mind"
Recent headlines that his supporters will claim are unkind
but considering the mess he's made of many vital issues,
the only sympathy I can offer them is a box of tissues
The oval office will need steam cleaning and fumigation
No portrait of him to hang. Let him take that to litigation!
It's reported Trump is headed South, to his Florida estate
His new slogan, just released: "Trump 2024 ~ DONATE!"
He's spent more time golfing than acting like a President
His Mar-a-Lago neighbors don't want him as a resident!
The worst possible fraud committed in the last four years
is the fake role he played, condoned by Republican peers
It won't be smooth waters for a while because of the scum
he's left behind; that shameful man, that do-nothing bum
America has been stumbled from each inept Trump blunder
pitting brother against brother; he's ravaged us all asunder
He once said the world was laughing at our great nation
The truth is they laugh at him; a presidential abomination
rumanative &
ancient
in gathering skies
of thunder&beating rain
groves&glades
with enormous boles
grasping at roots
&twisting sinews
clotted thatch corn stooks
sprinkled
&showered with a
thousand eyes
motley clothing fine meshes &
dappled skies&
mountains of light
enriching the actual present
pure&quaint
a crinkled Goth
pitting his English visions
with riches&fruitfulness
of urgent realities
in
prodigal
profusion
Contest Title: Long Shadows Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Deadline: Wednesday, October 29, 2025
Poem Title: The Surveyor of Dusk
Late Texas summer, wet heat and mosquitos,
running each evening, preparing for boot.
Past the few houses in my small country town,
past the people, past the sound,
running my past into the graveled ground.
The sun was low, a blood-red fruit in the sky,
casting my lunging shadow before me
on the dusty gravel finger of road.
I and my companion shadow strode
to Richland Creek where I would rest my load.
Each day I ran through the silent shadows,
alone and relishing my strength and youth,
pitting myself against my own best time,
enjoying the heat, sweat, and even the grime
of the dusty shadowed gravel road rime.
My shadow was joined in silent watch
one evening as I pushed my youthful endurance
by a heart-faced barn owl with glowing eyes
who brought a stutter to my steps
and a shock to my eyes.
Silently staring with shadow of his own,
his golden eyes still keep me company
in dreams and shadow memory
reminding me of a youth so temporary.
My box of sadness too.
A box full of sadness I store under my bed.
With thoughts so sad
Making me wish I was dead.
With one look underneath my bed.
Memories of you jump inside my head.
Like a Jack in the box, who is trapped inside.
I stuffed my feelings in this box.
I will not surrender to any sadden thoughts.
Shutting the box full of spider webs.
I do not want to feel the deepness of sad, I hide.
This sadness I store back under my bed.
My feelings are better trapped inside.
Staring at the box with my eyes open wide.
Tears start to fall the ones I buried inside
Following footsteps with no guide.
Why did I bother to remove the lid.
Sadness always makes it hard to decide
The pain my heart does not want to see.
Hiding the sadness, I yet have not cried.
I will not release my sadness, and set it free.
I have managed to put the sadness out side of me.
This sadness only belongs to me.
How could you leave with out telling me bye.
I pretend to live my life so cheerfully.
It takes a real person to bring me down.
My sadness trapped behind a fake bully.
Like a smile from a clown .
I put on a show and block any sad thought.
Not allowing my self to drown in self pitting ways.
You left me alone after bringing me into this world.
The one and only person who could be there for me.
In my troubles and need she left me.
Every one saying it might have been suicide.
How could you leave us behind with misery and blame.
The sadness of your shame is what I hide
A box of my sadness under my bed.
By:P.D.----I guess that is one of my sadness. A true one at that.
To:The Rambling Poet- This is a challenge called by you.
Trapped inside with a sadness. The other part of me
HUMANITIES REALITIES
The morality rate is at an all-time low
Disparity runs ramped in the streets
The reality of it all screams out "NO"
While everyone's volcanity seethes in heat
The fatality of decency, the mundanity of life
Lost vitality in heart, mind, body , and soul
The profanity we curse caused by pain and strife
Trying to think with a mentality like a 5 year old
The inanity of our Spirituality is cause for concern
Fearing the brutality of he who holds the keys
The formality in how we all just wait our turn
While people in urbanity walk around on their knees
The insanity of humanity, such a depressive state
Exhausting our veracity beating on one another
The criminality in our belief, the fires burn in hate
Glamourizing the totality of pitting brother against brother
01/25/17
I remember watching
all those women
desperately trying to catch
their dripping youth.
Tapping, smudging, massaging
all kinds of miraculous liquids
advertised by grinning ladies
with blocked face nerves.
I would smirk,
grab a bar of chocolate
and go outside
with no cream on, no hat,
no gloves, no worries,
pitting them a little.
Those lazy women,
who stopped and overslept.
I think of karma
now that I stand naked in front of a mirror
with my face glowing from rose oil,
stretching my cheeks as if it could stop them
from falling into the arms of time.
Funny, how the older you get
the more interest gravity takes in you.