Long Pointy Poems
Long Pointy Poems. Below are the most popular long Pointy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pointy poems by poem length and keyword.
Stuck in my bracelet,
Like strung up brains.
Eating my name in pieces, strips.
It’s been two days.
Everyone has eyes and cracking joints.
No buzz, or splintering.
Maybe just a little taste of transcension.
And me.
Sickness and burrowing.
Like the shadows do.
Tipping the burden onto my piercing brain.
Sickness is nothing like me.
My weird bracelet is like wires like me.
Rubbing my hands excitedly.
Moving my hands around as if a meteor is passing by and I could catch it…
Or even Saturn’s rings floating a couple miles north.
I could chop this bracelet off anytime.
If they gave us…
The pointy things we salivate over.
In the shower.
In the shower, it’s more brutal than ever.
Wear nothing except this…
Thing.
Sickness is nothing like me!
A little taste of transcension.
And the hasty results.
It’s been three days.
On a clock which transcends even me.
Dear God, May all cardinals be red
May the pope be Catholic
Bless bishops and their pointy heads
May their coffee come in cups
Filled to the brim with liquid
Caffeine free until Thy kingdom comes
Until the end of time or sooner
May Thy will be done, Amen
Dear God, keep us free from sin
From Kardasians,
(perhaps a skin disease?)
Please protect us from the sleazy
From carbonated drinks with bubbles
And all other troubles as seen on TV
If it be your will dear Lord
May I have a Vorpal sword
The one that goes snicker-snack
To slay the evil dragon Jabberwocky
Dead or even deader than that
For ever and ever more, Amen
Fly-ing on my broom
Plans are made...yearly on zoom.
Tonights the night of fear and fun
The...nights only just begun.
I'll screech and laugh, and scare you
I'll curse you with, potions bad brew.
I stir my cauldron well
And fill with toad heads and a rat.
Bubbles are steaming hot
And fiery, when they pop.
I make my spells, to cast on you
Then bottle it, for quid or two.
Dress code is all black
Wear our well known pointy hat.
When I'm done with you
I'll go straight home, to feed my cat.
By moonlight sky...see me fly.
My silhouette,
My silhouette,
Waves bye ...bye.
30.10.24
Trouble, trouble stirs the wind
ghastly ghosts rise and ascend
warty toads croak
vile spells are spoke
witches’ covens evil intend
Burbling, gurgling cauldron hot
with purple vein, red blood clot
virgins hopeful eyes
fear and dread belies
throw them in and stir the pot
Screeching, screaming banshee songs
garish ghouls with pointy prongs
mulish mummies
reeking rummies
to evil spirits the night belongs
Trembling, tremoring witches fear
townsfolk are coming too near
sticks and stones
fire bemoans
the end becoming too clear
Freaking, shrieking their cry drums
slicing the air with its thrums
unwilling to face
they cut to the chase
quickly flee to save their bums
'Tis pretty well established, God made Colorado for his vacations,
Creating the beautiful Colorado Rockies with towering elevations!
Hordes of "flat-landers" seek the good life in these lofty latitudes,
But soon discover they must alter their mental and cultural attitudes!
Everywhere you look there's a majestic mountain range.
The weather is fickle, wait fifteen minutes and its bound to change!
Easy does it when guzzling down that Coors Lite can of beer.
A combination of booze and the altitude will set you on your ear!
Slowly open that beverage can with extra special care,
Else the suds and froth will fizz all over everywhere!
If you intend to make your grandma's favorite chocolate cake,
The recipe must be adjusted even before you begin to bake!
Don't try to rush around, promenade with deliberate care,
If not you'll huff and puff in Colorado's rarefied air!
Cowboy hats, jeans and pointy-toed boots are the customary wear.
Anything else and you'd be considered a very boring square!
Dazzling snow enhances wintry vistas and summer nights are cool.
There's very little humidity and few mosquitos as a general rule.
Antelope play, buffalo roam and eagles rule the pristine sky.
Why people choose to live elsewhere, really makes you wonder why!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
STAR PEOPLE
they have strange heads
these STAR people
pointy top, pointy ears,
double pointy chins.
all their clothes are button-ups,
no pullovers for this crowd,
they wear “dunce” caps
bearing the icons
of their favorite planets.
water beds are definitely out,
cuddling is a bit iffy,
no resting your chins on your hands,
and – never, never, ever react
with a Homer Simpson “DUH!”
headstands are a no-no
unless break dancing or
planting shrubs.
They are vampire-like
in their habits
only venturing out at night
and then only when
the sky is clear.
When given a chance
they will always shine,
greeting you with a
twinkle in their eyes.
They often sing this little ditty
“human light
not so bright
don’t ask me for
a wish tonight”
12/15/2015
submitted to – Star People – Poetry contest
sponsor – Anthony Slausen
Edgar Rice Burroughs went beyond stars
To write of epics of Thuvia the maid of Mars,
Of Tarzan raised by Apes and Venus and Pellucidar,
Having stuck to his pen and paper, not wandering afar.
We had Wells going to the moon,
Writing of science fiction, reality soon,
Of time machines and stuff,
(Which will be true, soon enough.)
How about Asimov's drama
The magnificent Rendezvous with Rama,
Of the books of Wilbur Smith,
Or the mythical Lamia and Lilith?
There are tales, you need not be told,
In Poesian and Lovecraftian mould,
Creepy tales of horror and terror;
And even Cowboys and desperadoes in pointy sombreros.
Stephen King I really admire,
My nerves get taut as a wire.
His tales too many to name,
His genre is a completely new ball-game.
There's Dante and Milton, for sure,
And great bards and sages some more.
Once you get know 'em
You'll surely love their poems.
With Michener I ramble,
His is a historical ensemble.
Through history and time,
His sagas are sublime.
What of my ilk, the poets?
Their mind gets a spark and they do it,
No topics insane,
Their minds are arcane.
I can write and write
All through the night
Not stopping except when
I run out of ink for my pen.
With writing your mind is unfettered
Your brain gets definitely bettered
Of course you have to be well-read
Else the block will trouble your head.
As a writer you preen and you strut
Even without moving your butt.
So it's writing, any kind, I love -
I think it's a blessing from above!
~ 04 Jun 2016~
I was told I was many things
and yet no one asked what I felt like in my own body
they said those stretched marks on my belly,
made me manly
They said my ears were pointy, almost inhuman
and for the first time, I wasn't offended
infact I agreed
maybe that's why I ran to women instead
they understood better, I said
never knew it was called love
well not in that kind of way,
till I saw her undress, and I felt a sense of admiration, sensation, as if I didn't have the same body
and for a while, I questioned myself
for having these thoughts towards her
and yet my mind seemed to be drawn to her, I wondered if it was love
but how could I look her in the face
and say I'm in love with her
And maybe I didn't need permission
to love her the way I did
It just had to show through the way I listened,I spoke
In the way my attention shifted to her eyes
like I was enthralled by a painting
but she was my landscape, no bad thoughts, just pure love, I said
Then I realized it wasn't just her, I looked that way,
that I enjoyed the touch of a woman
like would a man
And for a while I looked at myself in the mirror
wondering if this is who I really was
if it was possible for a woman to remember another's figure and explain it so vividly
not just that, but the kind who failed to remember her own brother's features
I wondered if it was wrong to wear hoodies and biggies and never a dress
even when going to church
I wondered if I had failed my own mother
for all she spoke about was marriage
though not specific, I doubt she would think of a woman
And yet that didn't stop me
from buying a woman flowers
they didn't mean much to me
guess it was just my body that's a woman and not my mind and soul
I liked romanticizing the thought of it.
Parting my curtains that bright sunny morning
I took in the garden, my mood took a hit
My facial twitch surfaced again without warning
My lawn had acquired a nocturnal zit
They don’t stop at one: No, lots more were pending
An underground demon had just declared war
He’s munching my worms which needed defending
I’m having that critter... I’ve done it before
I picked out the nastiest, most evil trap
Designed to cast moley asunder
A trap meant to mangle that pointy nosed chap
... A trap that he simply dug under
I set a new trap filled with poison and worms
To kill him as soon as he found it
My wife tells me now that I’m King of the squirms
For that bloody mole went around it
I grabbed a big hammer and sat by a hole
A time to be patient... not slow
I was quick but inaccurate whacking that mole
And the hammer came down on my toe
I’m frantic, I’m livid, I’m limping around
To the shed where the tools were all put
Then, thrusting my garden fork into the ground
I stick it right through my good foot
I grabbed a grenade (which I googled and made)
I shoved it and crawled really fast
My lawn was destroyed like there’d been an air raid
I wasn’t quite clear of the blast
Two weeks have gone by and I’m head to toe plastered
My wife wears a mask against germs
She tells me we’ve still got that velvety bast*rd
And so she been buying it worms.
Granny`s spooky house
My granny has a spooky house she has a spiders web
She keeps it in her room at night just above my bed.
I cannot take my eyes of it however hard I try
As it unwraps its prey from its shiny web and slowly eats a fly.
The spiders black and hairy with long and skinny legs
I’m sure when I fall asleep at night it crawls about my head.
She also has a cauldron it’s filled with poisonous gloop
But she says it`s for tomorrow as she’s making homemade soup.
I go to bed quite early but Granny stays up late
She`s downstairs eating fruitcake it`s like beasties on her plate.
Just as it turns midnight her cat comes to the room
It snuggles in the corner and sleeps on granny`s broom.
It` s coat is black and shiny its eyes are big and green
It`s claws are sharp and pointy the biggest that I've seen.
Then it starts to hiss and spit and getting up its hackles
And Granny starts to laugh at it just like a witches cackle.
Now she takes its collar of, it wears a silver bell
Then it falls asleep real quick just like she cast a spell.
My granny wears a pointed cap when she goes to bed
It looks just like a witches hat sitting on her head.
Her gown looks like a witches cloak when she hangs it up
And then she takes her teeth out and puts them in a cup.
And when the house is quiet and everyone`s asleep
The doors they start to crackle and the floors begin to creek.
The windows really draughty and the heating pipes are knocking
And the squeaky stairs out in the hall sounds just like someone talking.
There`s footsteps in the attic granny says it`s just a mouse
It`s really hard to sleep at night in granny`s spooky house.
But when I wake up in the morning and the sun is shining bright
I open up the curtains to let in all the light.
The cat is in the garden the spiders in its web
The doors don’t squeak and the floors don’t creek
And I`m snuggled up in bed.
Granny`s in the kitchen and I cannot hear the mouse
It`s in the attic sleeping in granny`s spooky house