Long Predictable Poems
Long Predictable Poems. Below are the most popular long Predictable by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Predictable poems by poem length and keyword.
Home, even though a cozy cove sits secretly offshore,
it takes a hope and a skip away from my lone abode.
Terms with simple truths, they supply the groove.
They mount the horse and leave the sunset guessing, too.
Last light was leaving, hemisphere on spinning axis.
That's when a mammoth's head huge comes out the hallway;
its head is perfectly in frame, flush with the height and
length of the walkway.
Its wool invisible, completely see it through, besides that
fact still it was vivid, contained both depth and shading
make me see it too.
A mad hallucination, the proportion was intimidating,
forgetting it's made by my own mind, but still don't
know, don't fully comprehend what that all really meant.
Not really looking, only waiting—
waiting for the predictable.
It was known that I knew that I'd be so foolish too;
I pulled the wool up and over
the fabric of space and time, so when it all aligned, I'd
make sure I'd get me mine.
The mammoth then goes an opens up, from it's
opened mouth, soon as there was space, two snakes
sprung out and made escape without hesitation and with
a purpose that I for certain felt.
They were small, both in size and age two—
twin basilisk adolescents and commanding presence.
One occupied the kitchen, furthest to my left;
Then the other one, It was to the right came up right to me.
Even sitting down already, quickly up I leapt.
Watched it creep and slide till it all faded from my sight.
I sat, dumbfounded, disbelieving daydreaming
and this was truthfully my experience.
Everything was gone; it really was just me left beside I.
He keeps trying his barrage
of raging vitriol, but it's a blunt knife
on his target's alligator skin
A predictable high school bully
with the same ol' lines of attack.
His target always sees them coming...
and the invectives inflict no pain!
The bully sharpens the blade
with each try, then slashes and stabs
in rapid succession...
but the knife never breaks his victim's skin,
and the funny thing about it is...
the bully seems to be the one bleeding!
One fine day, the boy
bravely stands up for himself
with this unvarnished truth...
"You repeatedly try to cut me open,
yet you lacerate yourself each time
you fail to break me; and you'll keep
failing, so choose your next victim!"
Bravo, kiddo, bravo!
Submitted for...
Strand Select 12,Any Form ,Any Theme Poetry Contest (Winner: Honorable Mention)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date: 01/15/2020
Date written: 01/12/2020
"A Broken Demo"
In a desperate cry for help
She hires every jeweler
A cheap sheep crying, Wolf!
Using old repeating politic
utilizing lies * manipulation
To cover the Glass Paste on her face
Diamond-like - Stonecold and Crooked!
Her true shape -- unveiled -- predictable
A Thief Among The Mines
In a world where certainties are few---
Promises! Promises!
A shallow cut - with high class
no shape --- no spark, a dark mass
Smashing success when opportunity hits
The worst gem in disguise
The diamonds in her eyes -- gone -- expired
If you look, you will see
A twisted reflection in her evil grin
A sinister smile -- waiting to win
Her Vice - a victim --- her puppet
blind * believing her lies
Cutting light performance -
-Without realizing most see past her history
We the people are more than a cubic step
Lighting the madness of her soul
Just remember, every day she sits on her pedestal
Without a twinkle --- she stares into the night
Knowing nothing she stands for is right
Innovation - incomplete
A man-made she-demon trying to wear white
Like the swan, dying every night
She refused to hear the trumpet play
A new moon soon will open our eyes
EXPOSED --- Diamond CUT
Hillary Will Not Be President
#The Poet Destroyer
Remember...Remain Calm, Collected, And Cool...
Matthew Scott Harris...ARG
This, a near imp
possible mantra to apply
when this 2009
Macbook Pro went awry
triggering this enduser
to experience tidal waves of high
anxiety, which besieged this fie
foo fighting dirt po' pa well nigh,
who might need buy
another laptop, yet my
anorexic checking account
on life support, no lie
could not afford, (to sigh
phone even one red cent,
all because ordinary healthy
electrons deployed aye
did NOT see usual expected
predictable apple luck
quiche hun activity via my
left and right eye,
yours truly did not espy
usual kickstarting linkedin magic after
preliminary electronic setup
unexpectedly failed to start -
no idea why
unbeknownst tummy, what
ghost in the machine didst defy
programming code of honor,
whereby pixel display
unexpectedly exhibited "abnormal"
computer behavior -
like a turncoat ally
meaning one hoop wrest
illegally start button signaling
subatomic warfare unleashing - guy
did missiles as taught
during routine training
to turn bot tin down stevedores
loose on the Jobs (dan-g) rather, I
watched slack jawed,
as that very singularly narrow
vertical lined band width
(analogous to a medium black
sabbath tipped magic marker)
did NOT display
prestidigitation instantaneous flash
demarcating binary DMZ
(demon mailer zone,
viz dividing screen in half, -
versus top to bottom array), qua
incomplete automatic
initialization stopped
partway thru automatic preparation,
after which cryptic
error message appeared,
which malfunction found me
bursting with damned tears,
and ready to cry,
(which gush of tear
rivalled Hurricane Florence),
cuz mechanical and/or
application so much
of my creative
write minded person
(reed literary) self choked life vie
ability to live, thus the only alternative
...insane asylum to apply!
--------------------------------
SPOILER ALERT...
postscript: after some fluke brought
desk top in view, the quick thinking
chap attached an external drive to a
USB port, and thus breathed easier
knowing a backup got made.
Organ grinder
Meat grinder
Bump-and-grind
The workday grind
Get up, get out of bed
Drag a comb across my head
Yeah, Yeah, Paul: You knew that was coming --
Go to work
Pour the coffee
Water the plants
Sharpen some pencils
Head for the water cooler
Trade some stories...gossip a bit
Stall...stall...stall...and stall some more...
Get to the meeting on time
Look engaged
Back to my cubby
And then:
What's this? A poem?
A what? A poem!
A poem appears
comes flying from my fingers
onto the keyboard
up on the screen
read... saved... printed …
posted on social media... 'liked'
All over the internet
Gone viral
I'm a thing
a downright event!
Yeah, sure I got canned
Of course...
Know anyone looking for a new poet?
December 03, 2019
Predictable Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Rhymes -normally I love them-
But tonight they seem like sweet-tongued harlots.
Cheap.
Cliche.
Predictable.
More concerned with sounding right
than capturing the truth.
A poet would use them to empower his words,
but, instead, they rob him of his dignity,
chaining him down,
clipping his wings,
building walls around his baffled imagination.
Tonight, oh rhymes, I would chase you with a firebrand
as did my spiritual namesake.
You stir me with anger,
make me wish to grab a gladius,
leap into the trenches,
and cut away all pretenses until I free her-
the true love of all true poets:
Truth herself.
11-12 December 2023
With Fond Memories, we'll all say Goodnight.
Goodbye, for now, maybe we'll get a Bite?
The thrill that we "Hoped," we'd see on the Screen,
Was "SO PREDICTABLE" from Scene to Scene!
Every "Horror Flick," is just like the Last!
Same Boring Plot, same Boring Cast!
The "Cinema's," are Over-Refrigerated,
And the "Dialogue," is only Regurgitated!
Half-hour in, you glance at your "Swatch,"
It doesn't Matter which Movie you Watch!
The "Kid" behind you...keeps Kicking! your Seat,
Your Popcorn Box...is Stuck to your Feet!
The Speaker's So Loud, it's Blowing your Mind...
And SOMETHING smells..."Rank,"...Right from Behind!
Pungence, not "Floral," is assaulting your "Beak,"
Your Eyes..."Dart Around...for the "Exit" you Seek!
Yes, it's "Fond" memories, like walking in "Clover,"
We MISS all those movies, watched Over and Over!
Till you "SHINE" the "LIGHT" on those "GEMS" that we SPEAK,
I'll be "DAMNED" if I'M coming "BACK HERE!" next WEEK!!!
Enter Poet, clutching a sonnet: ‘The checker says I’m guilty. See, it flagged my rhyme as machine!!’
Podcaster nods sagely: ‘It is not your imagination; it is proof the robots haunt our dreams.’
Audience gasps: 'That’s NOTHing. SHAKEspeare ALso ONCE acCUSED – / preDICTable Iambs, GROSS susPIcious RUSE!'
Poet protests: ‘I swear it’s quill and ink, not silicon and code …’
Checker blinks, statistical gears grinding: ‘Patterns resemble algorithmic load.’
While phubbing, critic whispers: ‘False positives thrive where meter marches tight.’
Podcaster grins: ’Ignorance sells—truth is dull, paranoia bites.’
Poet sighs: ‘Convenient shield, this oracle of error—‘
Exasperated, Curtain falls: ‘Disinformation thrives when denial meets terror.’
From the wings, Thomas Gray’s quietly haunting voice: ‘Where ignorance is bliss, ‘tis folly to be wise.’*
______________________________________________________________________________________________
*From the final stanza of Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College, by Thomas Gray (1716–71).
I sat patiently waiting for a fun time to come,
For my life to be happy, full of cheer.
Meekly living a life watching genuine fun pass me by,
From a day, to a month, to a year.
My life song routine was predictable, was easy,
No emotional yards to overcome.
The T.V. shows timetabled, and kid’s sports all planned,
Success made me hysterically numb.
Achieving was fake, meant zero… nothing at all,
Validating how I was living my life.
That’s when I discussed, with myself, things important to me,
That’s when I sat down and talked with my wife.
I needed to glide off a cliff, to wake on a beach,
To exit a plane on the other side of the Earth.
To sing, write poems, and paint all night long,
To find out what I think I am worth.
And now I don’t sit, I’m not patient nor quiet,
I don’t watch others feign happy and gay.
I have a life of too busy doing things that I love,
I saved myself, I’m the exonerated beach castaway.
sitting and pondering
drifting into a
silent reverie
but sometimes
solitude is a fragile shield
against ignorant perceptions
leading to somber conclusions
demonic voices act
like harbingers
predicting doom
innocent eyes
plagued into a trance
become emotionally numb
watching the world go by
invisible tears
suppress pain
with time
struggling to eliminate
predictable outcomes
suffering signs of sorrow
go unnoticed like
undelivered messages
spirit screams
STOP TORTURING THE SOUL
but sanity crumbles
like Autumn leaves
and
subtle yet
insincere gusts
blow each one
towards distant
shores
Silent One
Simple Musings
3 October 2017