Long Polled Poems
Long Polled Poems. Below are the most popular long Polled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Polled poems by poem length and keyword.
Moss Cowed Covenant I Keep Putin Off...
For preservation, salvation,
and veneration, though with hold
ding temptation two mike
pence sieve lee clear,
to immoral majority mold
toot hoods, (those bajillion
Americans unanimously polled)
did want me to broadcast, communicate,
and declare, sans mock cut up fold
drawl migrant accent,
(no matter I'm getting old),
nonetheless Ivana trumpet from Taj Mahal
straight to Mar-A-Lago) all told,
plus thank commensurate Republicans
(past or present), who extolled,
an invisible grandiose fire walled
barricade (donning, enclosing,
and fortifying) against Carl mauled
din lookalike hackers,
despite one sporting "FAKE"
hook nosed, hunchbacked
donned with torn (Turin) shawled,
shrouded, and disguised vagrant, indigent,
double chinned agent – bald
(except for being bewigged),
viz flowing locks of "FAKE" gold
in toe with Amazon heavily funded
unbridled trailing retinue
chanting appellation Matthew
Scott Harris alias Oswald),
no matter said faux
renegade twittering lobbyists
flock (like lemmings) within his fold,
and will happily, laughably parody
any vigilantes spot on cold,
what with his bugs
bunny eyed (What's up Doc)
intent reader rabbit stare,
that doth playfully scold
any Bare Ladies scantily
linkedin, NOT nsync
with netiquette politesse mold
dinned communication, (asper
my pork chopped message
higglety pigglety divulged)
obeying tacit gold
din rule to hoodwink public, nonetheless
lemme exemplify, how
Democrats plan to hold
world web hostage
by secret Ransomware sold,
thru dark web bitcoin blockchain trolled
to collude with "crooked Hillary"
under Ponzi scheme auspices doled
courtesy, sans spongebobsquarepants
omnipotent NON GMO
gluten CRISPR rolled
oat sized INTEL nanobots,
no bigger than mold
spores heavily scrutinizing,
policing, monitoring and
fortifying electronic Internet scaffold.
......a strange color, green
Become better informed, listen to your teachers,
educate yourself....which branch will the bluejay
survey from?
The hawk, circling, choose his best option?
Bleeding soldiers depend on doctors, rich men
depend on accountants, souls depend on preachers,
tap water depends on scientists and engineers,
nourishing the parched vagaries of citizens
and houseplants.
Words fall like acid-rain, seemingly harmless,
we thought we understood rain, it falls, it
nourishes, fills our reservoirs....then leaves a stain,
a clear outline of abuse, like evaporated salt, clinging
to our shirts after a hard day, sound bite upon bite.
Still, we wade through flooded streets, hoping the
tides will descend, rhetoric return to sanity, our lives
safe, from future floods.
after the elephants parade through every mind
the straw left behind
collects promises dumped in the streets
polled, polished,perfumed
ready to sweep it all up on election day
hit pause... wait four years
repeat
wait four years
repeat
09/08/12
6:09 pm
timid, meek, and demure (effeminate) me,
essentially ruled the roost
regarding Harris household
sole son characterized vis a vis
presented passive resistant
outward nonestablishmentarian mold
worst case scenario
would witness Matthew Scott Harris
spending longevity old and feeble minded
at 324 Level Road
outliving parents, pets
(comprising inordinate
number of dust bunnies) and siblings
(an older and younger sister),
the latter whose globetrotting exploits I envied,
nevertheless outlived anyone polled
even Methuselah, where mein kampf
blissful, fanciful, nouveau poet
nearly long forgotten boyhood charade,
facade inlaid masquerade
crumbled like broken scaffold
attaining centenarian years old -
faintly maintaining umbilical stronghold
considerably surpassing mommy dearest,
born November 13th, nineteen thirty five,
yet moments before her passing
she barely audibly apologized
for occasions she did reprimand and scold
retaliated against grim reaper,
he whisked her diseased riddled body away
after completing seventy plus orbits, all told.
I experienced interminable
relentlessly psyche burning acrid
tormenting, teasing, and talking funny
bullying vulnerability compounded amid
courtesy of split uvula set me apart
alien as a Druid livingsocial
during latter half of twentieth
and first two decades of twenty first century
rather a speech pathologist
informed legal biological guardians
regarding Lancaster Cleft Palate Clinic
minor congenital defect when
attending sixth grade at
Henry Kline Boyer Elementary
i.e., submucous cleft palate, aforesaid
whereby every day akin getting scorched
by some "NON FAKE" ironclad grid
me, this twangy nasal kid
my undersized and socially
withdrawn demeanor contributing
to existence tumultuous and turbid.
My sister and I have different personalities
Never alike, two peas from the same pod,
but not germinated for the same Winter crop.
We never argue over mundane trivialities.
I like halibut, but she always chooses cod,
and I prefer vacuuming; she loves to mop.
But there is only one topic we cannot discuss
Our political views caused too many disputes
We disagree on the qualities of a President
and had heated debates. Oh, how we did fuss!
When I said Trump was immoral and in cahoots
with crooks, and he was a stubborn old cuss.
She fired back that Biden was senile, much too old
and she didn't like Kamala, which made me sigh.
Round after round we boxed, in verbal objections.
She watched the numbers as voters were polled
and I wanted scissors to cut off Trump's red tie
and no more commercials for Presidential elections.
Finally, I said, "Our bickering is tearing us apart."
She agreed for the need to put an end to our feud.
We're both much happier, but once in a while
she'll mention his name, and I'll say, "Don't start!"
I'd never vote for a man who's crude and lewd.
I can't understand why she can't see that he's vile.
We'll never agree on which man is most deserving
or which one truly lives by America's Constitution.
We avoid politics when we come face to face.
But I know Trump is unfit, and is totally self-serving
Biden isn't perfect, but Trump started a revolution.
He made a mockery of the office. Such a disgrace.
Yes, I blame him for inciting the Capitol subversion
But didn't say a word to her so we'd keep the peace
Sometimes it's still difficult not to interject a belief
so we talk about taking a pleasant holiday excursion
perhaps to the Caribbean or to the isles of Greece.
I'm just glad that we found a way to stop the grief.
Living on ashes of bridges that I've burned.
Trying to get by on lessons I never learned.
Only coin I've got is an old nickel that don't mean a thing.
Somedays coming closer, I swear I hear that bell ring.
The sun comes up and the clouds go by.
Beg, borrow or steal, one last try.
Sailing on a desert of life gone by.
Digging for old gold is just dust you can't buy.
Tomorrows dream of finally finding the loot.
The devil himself offers up forbidden fruit.
You swear you won't take it, he can go to hell.
Becouse you want to survive the toll of the bell.
Old Gold
Bought and sold
Life on hold
I feel cold
No one told
No longer bold
Been rolled
Black mold
Politicians polled
I fold
Especially one courteously wrapped ably
anonymously gifted to
an aspiring gourmet Chef Boyardee
i.e. not surprisingly... revealing mystery
person none other than...
yepper namely me.
Moost anyone can show
off culinary karate chop
suey, whether schooled among
fishy creatures either
from black lagoon,
or privately tutored,
(this haint no canibal)
courtesy mythological Cyclop,
somewhat riotously,
quirkily and precariously,
when blindsided flop
which slapdash loco motion often
misconstrued for latest dance moves
characterizing boogie woogie
(touting Louis Armstrong talents
as token bugle boy), and/or hip hop.
Audible sigh of relief exhaled by
none other than Chaim Yankel,
whose tail feathers ruffled
linkedin to setback, which former
(malfunctioning microwave) did rankle.
No longer must
hungry tummies all told
eat food frozen and/or cold
leftovers formed into Rorschach,
neigh Horseshack habitat mold
more suitable as clay pigeons,
where strong arms
analogous to accordion fold
readied to take aim and fire
young trumpeting Olympian trained
contestants, albeit aghast at
proliferating firearms when polled
wantonly, indiscriminately, and blithely
taking precious innocent lives
worth more than fine spun gold.
Eve vent chilly this monseigneur
and his madam
(Church Lady) conceding faithful
to follow and acquiesce
and countenance flimflam
toward yours truly,
no matter a fake Imam
who offered up feast
Earth friendly biologically/
genetically modified, prepared
artificial intelligent algorithmically
programmed manufactured in Vietnam,
who cooked delectable
Soylent green eggs and ham.
Best not prepare
former entree in microwave
lest they explode instantly
killing home of the brave
necessitating, none other
than one lame rhymester at large
to end poem quickly senseless verse
in order for his hide to save.
Severely withdrawn as a doggone lad...
I wanted someone to hear me shout for help
as recently recalled
when yours truly a little barking whelp.
After conversing with Amélie Beth
(yesterday February 26th, 2021)
yes, the same sibling diagnosed
with nodule on her right lung
chatted with said family member.
Her brother (yours truly), could not sleep
last night/early this morning
what would ewe expect
this rambunctious poet do... count sheep?
Okay... wool ye go ahead and lambaste me!?
Ordinarily counting backwards from one hundred
helps trigger rem memorable cycles
(never if ever rarely reaching zero -
cipher, nought, the big goose egg...)
usually does the magic, (albeit cheap trick)
constituting one garden variety supertramp,
who within blink of eyelash nods off to dreamland
succumbing and submerging into subconscious.
More so the latter half
(regarding unsainted) days
of mein kampf
lived more satisfactorily
meaning emotions shared
between yours truly
and family members.
Suddenly important for me
(at approximately 743.999 months
athwart planet Earth)
to finagle acknowledgement
constituting care and concern
regarding welfare of loved ones.
Rather, a necessity to unleash
pent up sentiments activating
"Damn the torpedoes,
full speed ahead!"
An injustice to myself
and deprivation to recipient, i.e. Amélie
(who accidentally, inadvertently,
and unwittingly triggered feelings
of grievousness, ire, joy... )
to act adamant and withhold
for whom the bell tolled
valuable unpleasant turmoil
or heavenly bliss within
mine psychological state
most therapists and/
or self actualized individual
would concur if polled
wisest, loveliest and healthiest
personal choice to share
lest internalized heart wrenching dilemma
compromise palpable mutual
(of Omaha) kith thing catharsis
freeing restrained pent up angst
kinship therapeutic as “Wild Kingdom,”
whereby respective psyche
constituting uber brotherly spirit
doth lyft among soundcloud
shutterflying amidst
imagined lilies of field
engendering region knolled
king dome united, extolled
and linkedin courtesy nirvana.
Twins two headed, thy talents.
What on earth to say?
O kings majestic, paid rents?
Otherwise dismay!
Viralized infection?
Excuse means cut it out.
Downward thy direction?
Challenger lost his bout.
Ground, thy gold. First bought, then sold.
Polled and doubly old.
Warrior fierce, with hands a-cold?
Broken was the mold.
Things did not turn out right?
Well, smile on it awhile.
Counted stars in dim twilight!
Golem, please use thy guile.
Northward pointed all thy ways?
Dim like lingering days.
Stray not, travelers, from thy maze?
Carrion crows a-craze.
Flock of sun god, on thy left!
How to be bereft?
O dark chasm, stab to heft?
Open like a cleft!
Rock, thy rolling motion?
O portal, open wide.
What a quaintly notion!
Wormhole, thus woe betide!
Avalanches breaking free!
Devil seeking fee!
Dark fire blessings, may ye be!
Thunder o'er the sea!
Cold as harvest winters?
Autumn can have its chills.
Children can get splinters!
Grave robbers, paid thy bills?
Opopanax, thy delight?
Opium, pain is good?
Ore atop the hills of night!
Sirens sang of 'should'.
Doom, thy cloud. O burial shroud!
No use talking loud!
Widows, are thy heads a-bowed?
Fields of salt a-plowed...
Since John and Paul first met in high school,
we have had decent success playing in Liverpool.
There was some tragedy we went through.
The worst was the passing of our dear friend, Stu.
However, our music is still popular today.
We were polled number one by far and away.
The birds fly in from all around
to listen to our upbeat skittles sound.
I have been with these guys through thick and thin.
Now they are telling me I am no longer in.
They have been following the sound of a different drummer.
A new man has taken my place. What a bummer!
They will not sound the same in Hamburg or Liverpool.
To all the loyal fans, this will not be too cool.
Who needs them? I will form a new band.
When it is all over, I will hold the winning hand.
Harry was born on the 20th June 1994,
And is a wheelchair basketball player,
Who at the 2012 Paras was the barer,
Of the Paralympic Flag, he went afore.
He’s a 2.5 player and his team’s won,
Many Championships, World and Euro,
In 2011, in Nazareth with much folio,
They won the gold to themselves sun.
2013 at the European Championships,
Harry and the team won another gold,
And 2014 at the World Champs polled,
They finished in 7th place for swift hips.
2015, the European Championships,
And the GBR men’s senior team zesty,
Won another bright gold medal shiny,
With third consecutive Euro title, strips.
Rio, and GBR made the bronze match,
Where they competed against Turkey,
After normal time it was tied, a lea,
But then GBR secured a 82-76 catch.