Long Promptly Poems
Long Promptly Poems. Below are the most popular long Promptly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Promptly poems by poem length and keyword.
I wrote two terrible poems last night.
Will this one be another?
I am looking at the clock.
It is time to leave and get the oil changed.
I read the sign as I pull in.
No Shirt, No Shoes, No Mask, No Service.
I don my mask before entering.
I greet the girl behind the counter.
Do I need an appointment?
I do not know all the rules.
She replies, walk-ins welcomed.
Politely takes my keys.
Just an oil change JC, I nod.
She knows me by name.
Not because of my Poetry.
It is just that I have been here before.
The service starts promptly.
Three now toil on my vehicle.
It used just to be one.
I am the lone customer in the reception area.
Tv still playing the same station.
No more free coffee.
My soul smiles, anyway.
I guess I should have expected it.
I start to listen to Janine Jansen, Vivaldi.
My earbuds are a no-name brand.
I wish I had my Audiophile headset.
But that would be rude.
The technician approaches me.
I was expecting this.
It is not a cabin filter this time.
That would only cost me an extra twenty bucks.
He explains I need my transmission fluid changed.
That is another One Hundred and Eighty bucks.
Shows me the samples he took.
I agree, and he says it will take a little while longer.
As I sit here listening to music.
My keys arrive twenty minutes later.
Drat, I still need a little more hope.
I was looking for one more concerto.
Time to pay as panic sets.
Did I forget my wallet?
No, it is here in my back pocket.
A wave of relief washes over me.
I am slowly returning to normalcy.
On the way home, I am thinking, Metallica.
1st place
BRIAN'S CHOICE 10,any form,any theme
Contest Judged: 5/30/2020 4:05:00 AM
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Our severe pain is unforgivable at eternal night.
I twist over, my brain hustling with mystic insight.
Cries made me exuberantly sad, letting my sting.
I felt bound that could never be fit of stirring.
Your gloomy yell penetrates the serene quietness.
Leastwise, I realized you'd befall a whiner pitiless.
You've arrived at my most prominent gateway.
Once again, it roused me up, as it had all sultry day.
I let forward a puncturing shout of agony.
Once again, I will not scorn the cease eagerly.
And reject the thoughts mugging my reasoning.
Grasp my once-living voguish is promptly dying.
The blade was in a distinct area to my brawny arms.
Reverberations of our ultimate hug hang my eyes.
Such much sorrow stuffed into a cramped space.
And all I lack is to regain a place in the audience.
I'd wisely prefer seeing genuine compassion.
Except for me, everyone is in repletion.
Afterward, why are you pounding on my door?
I was dodging, similar to the mild night before.
I'm going to have you removed right away.
It happened as soon as it was made defray
My supplications and asks for salvage were unmet.
I'm mindful of our dreadful period once onset.
How random do you admit your mentality?
But voicing regret isn't enough in this vicinity.
Remember me for a type of contact with you.
Sorry for the hassle, yet my choice is too true.
It was vital for me to do what I did.
I couldn't stay with you anymore; I want a slid.
I needed to awaken and concede my misstep.
That you'd follow me until the night with no pep.
We can scarcely improve anything right yet.
And I must say I'm right from the outset.
For the time term, "I'm apologetic" will not vow.
You've broken my soul and granted me a bow.
You can't undo the wrongs you've done.
You didn't opine over what you shun.
You had the only choice but to perform this.
But our relationship has cooled an abyss.
Can't you consider your acts have altered you?
Supporting for my freedom to cognition blew.
However, it needed lasting by till ends survival.
Rusty mind that deadly sins were unforgivable.
Written: November 11, 2021
''U'' Contest, New Poems Only Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
In the mountains it’s our tradition to delay our morning walk
so we can listen to the morning choir that begins promptly at six-o’clock.
Yes, at six-o’clock every morning without uttering a word
as the dawn breaks over the mountain we sit and listen to the chorus of the birds.
The singing can be heard all around us…through the birds are hidden in the trees
their voices blend so beautifully carried gently on the breeze.
Our first morning in the mountains was a truly wonderful scene…
so many voices singing their morning song…we counted seventeen.
We recognized the cardinal and the blue jay…birds we often see
We heard a nuthatch, a woodpecker, the Carolina wren and chickadee.
We heard warblers, robins, a titmouse, as their voices ebb and flow
a vireo, a phoebe, a towhee and a crow.
After showing our appreciation…the next morning…again at six
as we listened to the new song…six more birds were added to the mix.
More warblers and a grosbeak shared with us their gift…
as did a different kind of nuthatch, a catbird and a chimney swift.
The next morning I imagine realizing this is a performance we both love
we were joined by a scarlet tanager, a sparrow…and a dove.
This morning as I try to describe this mellifluous harmony…
(it’s difficult to find the words)
joining the ever-expanding chorus is a goldfinch, and a hummingbird
Even in a morning rain…using the trees as their umbrella
These birds sing out their morning chorus…with no music…Acapella.
It’s a beautiful way to begin our day…
and for the rest of the day there is a bounce a lilt to the way we walk.
compliments of the birds
who share with us their beautiful voices
every morning at six-o’clock
A dozen or so things I'd teach my guys,
school children and grandchildren likewise.
When they are young kids, I would make it plain
they’re not to be blamed for a neighbor’s pain.
Simple: no biting, no pulling hair, no hitting,
no screaming, no pinching and no spitting.
Keep your hands to yourself, unless asked,
personal space should not be trespassed.
Kind words offered in peaceful voices,
sharing delight when someone rejoices.
Go out of your way to help those in need;
return disfavor with a friendly deed.
Avoid nosing in another’s business;
when you have done wrong, you promptly confess.
The Golden Rule I would teach inch by inch
over and over, their mischief to quench.
February 10, 2023
"Why is it", the donkey mused, "that horses get all the glory?
Seems throughout the ages its the same old hackneyed story.
We go unheralded and are treated with utter disdain,
While horses bear king and emperor about their vast domain!"
"Though we are somewhat ungainly and will never win a race,
We've born distinctive personages with extraordinary grace!
I'll tell you of unnamed heroes among our humble breed,
That will outshine the acclaim of any blue-blooded steed!"
"Mister Ed the talking horse has nothing on the donkey Balaam rode.
She saw an angel of the Lord in the way and promptly left the road!
Balaam cursed, the donkey talked some sass and was beaten thrice!
The angel was about to slay Balaam had he not heeded her advice!"
"A donkey was in the stable when the Prince of Peace was born.
Later to Egypt they fled - on a donkey Mary's Babe was borne.
For entry into Jerusalem, He chose a donkey, a borrowed one at that.
Hosanna! Hosanna! God's Son it was! There he regally sat!"
"We've had astride us preachers, desperados and hardy pioneers,
And have been accused of stubborness driving mankind to tears!
But when all is said and done, we provide reliable transportation,
Getting you slowly but safely to your ultimate destination!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF
© All Rights Reserved
I was not the culprit this time, but no one believed or could see.
Since I had done it six months earlier, no one wanted to believe me.
I was not guilty, this time it was not my play.
I was innocent in every kind of way.
The charges were trumped up, and totally untrue.
However, promptly assumed totally guilty by all of them but two.
No way it was me; not my mess this time, not my doing.
They dressed me in a suit and a shirt fresh white from blue-ing.
It was a frame job, I was not the devil child this time.
They gave me tight looks and frowns from all but Juror number nine.
I was locked into a jail cell with Mad Marge who had made it a kind of home.
If I ever get released, you can bet I will write her up into an interesting poem.
You will love fourth grade I was told by everyone
It is learning multiplication, algebra, truly much fun.
Do not get on the bad side though of Miss McLater.
She has the disposition of a fierce alligator.
She was the mysterious teacher we had never seen.
The other teachers had their photos up, but hers was green.
Just a field of grass, no person at all.
Labelled Miss McLater’s Grass, five feet tall.
I was shocked and horrified when she entered the room.
I felt threatened as her huge eyes promptly turned and zoomed.
She had an alligator’s head, or maybe it was face of a gator.
I knew I was never going to feel at ease with Miss McLater.
As dusk gives way, a great delight
The forest comes alive
At first, it's slow
Now off they go
They flourish, nay, they thrive!
The motivating force, the drive
Behind the wondrous glow
To find a mate
A longing sate
But little do they know
She, flightless, hungry, blinks below
Does not have long to wait
Her throbbing light
His lucky night
His first and final date
Not all seems right, but it's too late
A blinding flash; she bites
He won't survive
That's number five
The hunt is good tonight
----------
For the 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 16 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Written on 10/1/22
the Roundabout: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/new-poetic-form-the-roundabout
Carnivorous females of the genus Photuris are known to entomologists as “femmes fatales.” These fireflies mimic the flashes of females of other firefly genera; the unsuspecting courting male flies in (expecting romance) and is promptly eaten.
Perfume of tremendous worth,
Emptied from an airtight jar,
Left a sweet fragrance in the air,
As roses on a spring morn.
Promptly brought a harsh rebuke,
Labeled as a wasteful sin.
Others had an insightful view,
It’s too precious to contain.
Basic goods must always flow,
Not withheld with selfish greed,
By the “haves” from the “have not” poor
We must respond to their need.
If they are hungry, feed them,
If thirsty, provide them drink,
If in need of dress, then clothe them.
Be a good neighbor, love them.
Blessings in an airtight jar,
Won’t grace those in poverty.
The Lord’s way is better by far,
Share blessings unselfishly.
Inspired by Mattew 25: 31-46
Professor Petal, one of Patrick’s prolific pals,
Professed he had a Pollyanna Predisposition
Properly pronouncing pronouns without perky p’s.
A pithy proclivity, providing pollution to Professor Petal’s pronunciations.
Prissy Professor Patty from Prestigious Prussian Planet Philisophi-university,
Precariously prickled, privately at Professor Petal’s Pronoun-predicament.
Prissy Patty promptly planned a plane trip to Professor Petal’s Pre-existing pub.
Where placidly placed, Professor Petal, prevailed as President of Porous Pool Table Pro.
Privacy prevailed, as Professor Patty, presently at Pub, perceived Professor Petal.
Prissy Patty, partook of Paradise Pop-In-Pink Parboils, as she patty-caked in the pub.
Prissy Patty was soon pretty Patty, and Petal took her home, a primed and perfect professor.
Plenty of preemptive laughs prevailed, as they both wondered what pronoun begins with a P anyway?