Long Prank Poems
Long Prank Poems. Below are the most popular long Prank by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Prank poems by poem length and keyword.
Of all war brings
One is a disguised peace
And boldness to conquer fear
Of the darkest nights
And the silent mornings
To rain praises in morale at will
For news to reach the far distant neighboring countries
That each don't dream of attack
But I wonder if colonial masters ever heard of this
They came as eagles flying without wings
To make nests in hens village as police
Whose duty is to gear security but not to domineer
And to put all darkness plans to lights
By giving enough measures as warnings
Or get the reculcitrant lords drilled
Feeding back enough pleasantries
That will never dream to travel back
Even when all connections are at ease
War becomes admirable to lives
The only means to have the hen released
From seeming hungry eagles
That is never and shall not at will to let go
Of its captives that meant much to starvation
Even not for a lofty prank
Than hold on to it in all its might
Monitoring all possible escape routes
By neglecting no winks at break of the atmosphere
Our leaders' meetings become very active
As sacrifices nonstop increased
To grease the effort of freedom fighters like paralegals
To all ink on beautiful flow
And shelf bullets as eloquent reservation
Readily available for the blank
Roaring to fire out in plight
Congratulations to be sing on flutes
For the best wishes finally appear
The town which oozed the plain and lacklustre held them in a judo grip but by the same token itself seemed to become slyly going into step by step morph contraction.
“Donkeys are symbolic to a vast extent.
They exude such, indeed much ken.
Are they guffawing at us?
But just as you and I had our first encounter as children when on a short trip with our parents.
It was one of the few forms of entertainment available in this mystery shroud of a spot.
Where disposable income might be too easily disposed of.”
Both Nigella and Nigel found that ever since they met whilst nourishing the donkey, this donkey, its Mise en scene, its portentous presence had this uncanny knack of pursuit of both of them.
The strangest coincidences.
Idioms, expressions, the way people interacted, the synonyms for donkey in this town created a situation where the word donkey and a donkey’s environs, and other creatures in the habitat had this hypnotising invisible secretive yet insidious skulk.
“Have you even sensed, Nigella,a disconcerting shift and shunt this isolated district, the size, there has been a slow exit to boot. On boot.
Does it have its own booty?
We both smirk at that one.
Even as we interact there is this intended or unintended prank simmering….somewhere.
As if we might be shoehorned into a loosely scheduled drama.”
Nigel and nigella often mused and bandied about words asinine and their variants.
But devoid of concrete proposal or narrative life pulse in this strangeville of a town that was now a drift sand physically and in terms of folks who no longer existed resembled an abstruse puzzle when it shouldn't
Naked Aggression met Unbridled Greed
on an uncharted forest path
Warily they circled each other, eyes
laser-focused, each on the other's hands...
Up the road a ways trudged Steely Determination
weak and weary from a bout with the flu
Some distance behind him, he heard shouts ring out
felt a pin-prick of fear but pressed on...
Naked Aggression made his move for a thicket
Unbridled Greed pursuing, hot on his heels
Yet just when it seemed Determination was doomed
he ducked into a hard-to-see clearing
Well, Aggression never let up and ran right past him
straight into a solid brick wall -- Splat!
And all that was left of once-mighty Aggression
was a bloody dismembered blue cap...
Determination breathed a deep sigh
fell to one knee and gave thanks
Then he got up and chuckled and said
Thank God this was a fraternity prank
The young generation, who believe in dissolution,
promulgating the manifesto
“tradition is the grave of the banality,
only solecism is the quickening of new life…”
yell upholding a flag similar to a bad check
which is unable to secure the needed guarantee for the debt.
They are sycophantic speculators hopping on the bandwagon
of the time, they are nothing but a product of a certain moment
of the swinging pendulum, their unfounded thought changes in consonance with the direction and the amplitude of the pendulum.
Although they think highly of themselves,
they assert themselves as the forerunner of the times,
actually, they are unbridled reckless colts jumping, hopping,
and running blindly in the wilderness.
They consider heteronomy as a shackle,
they, therefore, rush to a smithy and heat the shackles to cut it off,
they insist upon autonomy as the beat of the heart,
they, therefore, lay on the cold operating table to cut it open
to see the inside of the heart bearing an excruciating pain
but they found it full of red and blue blood
clotted in two atrium and two ventricles, the blood
contaminated with filthy and turbid human minds
which carried on from generations of generations
of past unchanged.
They try to ascend their thoughts, nonetheless,
above the traditional ones, it’s nothing more than
a word game, a disgusting prank.
Are they mad? Though they cannot even jump
nor have wings, they try to fly,
ah, poor generation, ill, crooked, lost,
who were not even touched by a drop of Medusa’s
poisonous blood, flap wings imitating Pegasus about to fly.
bloodied fingers madly claw
caskets hermetically sealed
bullet riddled bodies crazily didst draw
triggered bloodshed tsunami,
where logic insists there must be a flaw
precious priceless proud loved ones demise
festers "stunned disbelief" to gnaw
perhaps shell shocked next of kin
utter primal wails resemble distorted hee haw
lifeless loved ones alive just moments ago,
these special darlings (dozen plus youth)
premature death deprived
never delight one or more in-law
whereat deceased brides and grooms
denied pledging troth
from permanently stilled jaw,
while bereaved
inconsolably cry deafeningly, drenching
cloths cupping raw cheeks,
a cruel prank sans burden thrust upon a maw
(whose womb once housed
forever lifeless son or daughter),
rigor mortis out buzzfeeds Stihl chain saw
shrieking, how,
this "NON FAKE" living nightmare
cast an excruciating pall,
whence diabolic demons lear
into the opened seam,
where under a sheltering sky Gaia doth hear
the deafening lament against
a cool, calm and collected
frenzied maniac whose flare
ring nostrils adrip with rage
exchanged slugs of lead for dear
lee departed souls,
where dark clouds may never clear
as the living suffer horrendous psychic hemorrhage
agonizingly bid their own
flesh and blood affixed atop a bier.
Form:
August is ending with a heat that gives no mercy to the land or man
so intense that the air swelters off the river into the tree tops,
looking ahead, its as if we are passing through the gossamer of summer's spector,
Private Shanon has been missing for six days
although, we believe he is lost, not captured or deserted
only God knows where his feet have taken him,
evidence along the riverbank indicates that he is alive and pursuing us
perhaps mistaken and disoriented, thinking that we are further up river,
Old Dorion is seeking him now like a clever wolf,
Shanon was seperated from me while stalking a coyote
a most mischievous animal that is entirely foriegn to us except in prank,
a bottle of whiskey goes to the first man who can lay a coyote down,
yesterday half of the expedition went hunting the prarie dog
a critter more cunning than a cat and jumpy as a log spark,
after several hours of scrambling around like lunatics
Private Sheilds has finally caught one with pork bait and a twig basket
the poor rascal squieks like a cheap violin,
eventually I will send it to Washington with other novel specimens,
President Jefferson and the Philosophical Society will be good guardians,
the men and I have been refreshing ourselves on the jewels of soil
the wild grapes are so succulent that the Italians would believe
Bacchus himself had seeded this earth with a secret serum
and the plum groves cuddled in the most unadulterated coves
invite the mind into Eden's shadow,
on this journey we have observed migrations of pigeons
that have rivaled the stretch of storm clouds,
crowds of squirrels so numerous they have canvassed the ground with a sea of fur,
and now the mighty, mythical buffalo walks before us
a legend amongst beasts, monstrous in girth
with hooves that peel the Plains and horns shaped by vengeance,
as they graze we seize the prize of their offering with thanks in our aim,
not having horses strategic concealment is critical, they are reknown for retaliation,
we dropped seven of them in a great pandemonium of panic
the gun smoke, field dust and perspiration meld into a fragrance of sacrifice,
our sustenance is secured, their lives feed our future,
J.A.B.
You may not know me very well at all
But my green thumbs are rather small
I've tried to keep and tend a garden
My neighbour's laugh and I say, "Pardon?"
They all grow these amazing flowers
In scalding sun or pouring showers
Well I'm new here and just trying to grow
Some little thing to help me get to know
Then one day up came a fiesty stalk
It grew and grew and garnered talk
They asked why I would plant one corn
Speaking to me! (Without the scorn)
Well I'm not sure how came about this cob
It piqued interest from my neighbour Bob
The bigger it got the more we could say!
And you wouldn't believe it from that first day
That corn surpassed the height of my house!
So big it housed the nest of a grouse
They'd stop and offer me 50 bucks!
I'd turn them down, I can't give any shucks
Although, I got some unfortunate city fines
As it obstructed the overhead powerlines
Worth it of course, without hesitation
As I assumed it would keep me in conversation
The neighbour's could take me seriously
If I needed to vent, or rant furiously
Or maybe just a friend to listen and care
They assume I'm just pulling a prank around there
What I didn't predict as my corn grew another tier
They all think im joking when I ask them to lend an ear....
It’s so difficult to sustain the life
in this senseless-tiresome-dry world,
and that’s why I decided to fool the world to ease my life.
I took my head out of my shoulders and put it on the road
the very spot where I decided to beguile the others;
the way was happened to be a moderately sloped downward road
and that’s why my conscience rolling downward with very little or
no effort at all.
For I was moving forward without any hindering object or resistance
it became monotonous; I felt like play a prank for some fan,
so I bounced up and down, danced around here and there,
but it didn’t do any good because these were another dull
and slothful recurring motions. I closed my eyes being languid.
On the way I saw the snobs, who impudently
insist upon themselves are the microcosm,
arguing each other wearing the ridiculously ugly masks,
“my territory has to be greater than yours.”
Because of those ridiculous masks
finger point one another with infuriated yelling
I opened the eyes terrifying. As I woke,
I saw a giant standing before me holding an apple
in his hand staring at me; and ridiculous masks carry the explosive.
Who is this giant? And what is the explosive? I tried to
move forward again after gave a moment of thought;
but this time, I was trapped in the midst of a battle field
where a rusted lump of heavy iron moves back and forth
on a double-headed serpent’s back, throwing flames from its mouth.
I gave up moving forward thinking,
though it may not be the place to dwell,
here is the place where I have to take a root;
after rooted, the gray hairs grew to the limbs
and branches of a dead tree, and bear the leaves
and flowers, and some of them fell on the ground blown by the wind,
then the rolling leaves on the ground
become stones and road side footmarks.
When colorless paper flakes
bleach the road side footmarks,
they turn into the scentless petals
and cover the crushed masks lying here and there;
though these distorted masks didn’t say a word
a goldsmith comes in the evenfall displaying proudly,
sprinkles the gold dust tinted with the reddened glow.
Those familiar faces of the days far bygone,
The curious, eager looks and the mind blank,
Sometimes, nay ,often haunt and then dawn
On one ,when casual life plays a wont prank ;
And capricious events and happenings drive
The credence ,faith and the sanity to deprive .
The tears in those little gleaming,narrowed eyes
Meant nothing, yet something of pain for sure ,
While the plain empty smiles beamed otherwise
Of retreat or return to the shell and to endure;
The feel of relieving content being just denied
To the little ones who morph as they are pined
To cry and groan till the wail stretches and yond,
And settle with the helpless sigh of exhaustion ;
With some toy or sign for a change ,or a fond
Apt relation to regain the realm of lost caution;
To self-console and revive ,the in drawn shy one
Transforms its own existence to keep up the run
Possessions and life secure centred in the core
Of fear infinite and abstract ,ever trying to aver
And to drive the hurt tender soul to slyly abhor ,
Not knowing the upright from the unjust fervour,
Picking up random values,seeking things sugary,
The stern phase of childhood slinks in to memory
My sad story lacks glory, it's one of a kind,
I got tossed, lost and frightened, now I'm losing my mind.
After all it is Christmas, for one wish I care -
To get back with my buddies, please take me up there.
T'was the night before Christmas, on our last round,
Of delivering presents to this lovely town;
As we dropped the last parcel we broke out the wine,
Santa soon got too jolly and ran a stop sign.
First he swore, then he chuckled, and stomped on the brakes;
I first stumbled then toppled, that's all that it takes.
I fell hard off the darn sleigh, it wasn't a prank,
And I then landed headfirst into a snow bank.
Well, my pals did not notice there was one less elf,
Left abandoned I had to attend to myself;
I've been wandering here in a search of a clue
How to get back up there and back with my crew.
T'was the night before Christmas, not much of a crowd,
In the dark, cold and lonely, who could help me out?
Then I met a sweet lady, she said for a fee
She would take me "up there", if I would agree...
But, but then, oh my Goodness, oh Bother, oh Gosh!
She pulled down my green breeches, oh Jingle Bells Blush!
I kicked hard and screamed loud with all my elf's might,
That lady, so shady-like, gave me quite a fright!
On this night before Christmas I wish for a kind soul
That finds my way out and to the North Pole;
I will work so much harder the following year,
I will handpick all presents, help me please, dear!
I hear your sad song, friend, it's one of a kind,
And it's Christmas, it's gift time, so I'm going to find
The way out of this village and out of your mess!
I will take you up there in My Polar Express!
December 08, 2019