Long Protruded Poems
Long Protruded Poems. Below are the most popular long Protruded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Protruded poems by poem length and keyword.
Learning when/how to close seat then...
flush... the toilet with good frisson!
(alternately titled long windedly
using lower case letters:
no matter tidily bowled over based
upon real events, perhaps subject devoid
of literary merit and/or taste
no embarrassment, cuz
I got nothing to cover
despite precious time going to waste).
Analogous to constipation,
constitutes full term pregnancy,
perhaps umpteenth or first,
which former offal bodily function I durst
mention, said subject doth stink,
yet... exercising bowel
applicative, constrictive, effective,
exhaustive, gesticulative, instinctive,
massive, oppressive, qualitative,
quantitative, significative and unitive
(beg to differ if ye think me perverse)
both scenarios prone to stress and strain,
difficulties can arise evacuating bowels
gluteus maximus muscles severely pursed,
radiating sharp stabbing sensations
behind junk in trunk quarters felt
until bulging temple veins ready to burst,
where piles of hemorrhoids
foul rectum tortured and accursed
necessitating Judas Priest well versed
to issue last rites while
appropriate official dull livers worst
news to missus, whose
inconsolable sympathies nursed,
nevertheless bit torrent of sorrow
honor alone time with grateful dead
subsequently finds medical personnel disbursed,
privately newly minted widow mourning
tears for fears immersed
bemoaning sudden permanent absence
gone fore e'er foremost farter figure first
instance obliterated, when posterior
uproariously (actually not funny)
inflicted hemorrhage emergency,
die hard ludicrous poet (me) experienced
all expense chauffeured ride in hearst
aforementioned purportedly roughly comparable,
courtesy hearsay, when
hypothetical woman with child,
(here, I metaphorically paraphrase)
as maven ready to take aim giving birth
(nine months after satiating
hankering call of the wild
buzzfeeding miracle worker whipped thirst,
and temporarily appeased
inherent maternal yearning
to beget offspring, then... off to races
sprinting at greased lightning speed
amazingly enough slightly protruded womb,
(among other fledgling
and/or practiced moms avid runners
all touted as winners relay race crossing
finish line simultaneously
comprising distance measuring more'n verst.
The Magical Epiphany of an Old Rusted Can
whilst out hiking one day in a countryside area
that was quite desolate and remote from any nearby
city, I discovered, amazingly, an Old Rusted Can
that was at least two-liter-sized and was partially-buried
in a long dried-out river bed in the middle of nowhere
this Old Rusted Can protruded out upright at about a
twenty-degree right-slant with some jagged-edges all
along its circular lip
its striking physical presence and the way in which it
was positioned, still partially-filled with dried river
sediment, for me, bespoke some sort of an old artifact
of sorts, yet it was the only object like it right in the
middle of this long dried-out river bed
its unique silhouette was, at once, quite discernable at
a distance on the horizon as it casted a very curious and
most soulful shadow under the limitless canopy of the
late-morning sunlight
although it was very rusted, this Old Can actually
reflected radiant light rays at various times when it
was touched by the rays of the bright sunlight as it
ascended to its customary cosmic dominance in the
late-morning sky
it also had five certain hole punctures located front
and back, in its upper-area, from whence the bright
sunlight reckoned a kaleidoscopic effect of sorts as
the sunlight touched and passed through each of these
unique apertures that were arrayed on this Old Rusted
Can
inelegant as this Old Rusted Can was—this unexpected
and most unusual light-show lasted for several minutes
until the darkened clouds overhead blocked out all of
the bright sunlight for the rest of the morning
yet, I just couldn’t help but feel the true divine presence
of Almighty God Himself—as I had fervently focused on
every aspect and precise detail of this radiant and very
unusual light-show which presented a magical sense and
aura of empyrean enchantment
and whilst I continued my deep gaze at this Old Rusted
Can, I was simultaneously and singularly transfixed by
the utter majesty and true joy of the holy epiphany it had
presented to me. I thought for a moment . . . God does
indeed, relate to us, at times, in very mysterious ways!
Amen! Amen!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
August 21, 2018 (Imagism)
I see them but I don’t hear them,
I feel them but I don’t penetrate them.
They say that I am the main character in the show
And I make their heart glow, my spirit is soaring
but my body needs feeding, and my nutrition is getting low
Every day they make money off me but they never patronize me
My appetite is boiling over in the fireside but I am still enjoying the ride with a painful bliss hanging by my side
The restaurants are closed and the woodpeckers are digging
at my door they are spreading dust in the air and knocking on the pudding pans with a message folded up in their long pointed beaks
They pass by me to and fro with mean looks on their faces
Hurling stones at me with destiny trapped underneath their broken trees
Dried cracked lips and torn up fingernails, and center bones sticking
from my flesh, their handmade gown hanging from the
empty throne reminds me that the clown has moved out of the town. reality is sinking in and my body frame is very thin anorexia nervosa is setting in. I did not plan it but my body has slowly transitioned to it no hostess and no resources. My arms are still strong and my courage is bolder then than ten men gallivanting in the lower den with a strong fleet rising up to the heavens. I see them but I don’t hear them, I feel them but I don’t penetrate them. The morning has just come alive and the people are browsing around without a solid frown, they are still amazed with the sun as it drains the energy from their head and penetrate the living dead. Things are slowly coming around and the message is circulating around, mesmerizing the entire town and the normal is squeezing out the abnormal. Obese men and women walking in the street with protruded stomach and healthy guts look around without much fuss. They have gain excessive weight in the middle of stressful gate. Their mind is in several different places and they are trying to stay in the races.
The wind is standing still and there is nothing in the flour mill but suddenly the dark clouds start shifting from side to side and the skies greeted me with an awesome smile. I see them but I don’t hear them. I feel them but I don’t penetrate them.
As I tried to pull her along with me and our eyes started adjusting to the darkness,
we realized that she was not suffering from some sort of paralysis. Instead, a pair
of large harry hands protruded through the sidewalk and were each wrapped
around one of her ankles.
I am not sure why, but I unzipped my pants and started to urinate on the hands.
“What are you doing”, cried my girlfriend, full of fear.
“Our urine is like acid on their skins”, I answered, not really sure how I knew this.
She stared at me with a quizzical look on her face as if she, too, was afraid to ask
how I knew that – fearful of what my answer might be.
As the skin burned off the large hands, my girlfriend was able to step free and we
started running down the darkened city street.
Off in the distance was a barely perceivable blinking red light marking the
destination I was heading for. Even though it felt like we were running in place and
in slow motion, the red light grew larger and larger with each lethargic step.
Finally, we reached our destination. It looked like a domed baseball stadium
hovering five feet off the ground. I approached a door-like structure and
yelled, “Permission to enter the ship” – only the sounds that came out of my mouth
were strange bleeps and blips.
“No humans allowed”, boomed from the spaceship in the same bleeping language
that I had just used.
“It’s okay – she’s with me”, I responded. My girlfriend took a step back, stared at
me with terror in her eyes – eyes that then rolled back as she started to fall in a
faint.
Just in time, I stepped toward her and grabbed her before she crashed onto the
ground. Her weight and momentum took me down with her in a soft landing with
me cushioning her fall.
It was then that I awoke to find my girlfriend on top of me having somehow aroused
me enough to be pleasuring her in my sleep.
"Oh, you feel so good", she moaned ...only, it came out in bleeps and blips.
Salmon Run
A flurry of reds emerges distorted from the river;
As the Sockeye Salmon return from the ocean,
Following the scent of their home stream water,
Swimming upstream to the place of their birth,
In this, their final act is to propagate the species.
During this migration, the salmon consume no food,
But depend on their stored body fat reserves.
The salmon flesh is red due to the krill they eat,
and this pigment moves to the skin where they absorb their scales,
as the flesh turns white, an indication of their health.
They endure the struggle over falls, up rapids,
and past man-made structures and predators,
To reach the spawning grounds of their creation.
The name originates from the Pacific Indigenous people
Salish languages,
Who called them ‘Suk-kegh’ meaning red fish after their colour.
For centuries, the Coastal tribes ancestral heritage
fished Sockeye for sustenance;
And traditions believed all living things were once people.
To them, the Sockeye symbolizes determination,
renewal, and prosperity.
Frantically, grotesque looking fish splash furiously.
The females in a frenzy sweep their tails to make beds,
While males await excitedly defending their mate.
Ready to move in between them and the nest;
To fertilize the eggs that are about to be laid.
They didn’t always look this way; with the upper portion
of the snout,
Elongated protruded over the bottom as if hooked-jaw
With long fang teeth and greenish hued heads,
And red pigmented bodies with thick leathery skin;
With a hump on their back that makes them appear freakish.
The juveniles remain in the fresh water until mature.
Then swim out into the ocean for two to three years,
before returning to repeat the cycle.
Steely silver blue tinted colour with white bellies,
And heads of natural proportions to the rest of their
sleek, transparent scaled bodies,
Torpedo shaped, magnificently gorgeous for a fish.
Poet: Ismail Junaid Oluwadamilare (Paciolo Pen Saint)
I refuse to blame
Blaming is a temptation
I only want forgiveness,
Utter long praises without pebbles
From the calamity of yesteryear
When;
Misery was overwhelmed,
Sadness burnt fiercely,
Calamities of religions negated
Protruded souls with panic,
Brought vulnerable damages to the eyes of our faith & hope,
Harm to the best servants,
In the pleasure of tyranny clash
I see it as a little feast from His generous leg.
The affliction came as a reminder - scrutinized the pest within us.
I only want to utter long praises without pebbles
For He, who does not thank the blessings of him / how will he thank the blessings of Allah.
*"Alihamdulilahi" is not enough (It meaning is greater than what it fulfills).*
Let me adorn myself in His praises
So he does not deprive me of satisfaction.
Let me sail through the sea of words,
Follow the sweetest words & letters,
From the wave of yesteryear wanted to seize the boat of today
Capsize the rows & oaths in shame.
Words compete / phrases clash
To organise the contract of Thanksgiving
Here in the place of Thanksgiving I stand,
Spread it banner over my head & pillars,
My soul is great - it's a free attitude.
To you alone who take the ride of souls,
I deserve to raise your name above (for every thankfulness has a poem - every success has thanks & strings of appreciation).
Through the note of breeze,
Scent of flowers,
From the depth of depth
I say "Alihamdulilahi".
From your gentle smile that sheds the beauty of its light in the darkness of our hearts
Wipe out our worries in it.
From your tender touch
That explode in our hearts
A fountain of hope in this cruel life.
For the stars looming in your abode above ours
Whose brightness does not diminish from us a single moment
We're happy with their cheerfulness
So we say
"Alihamdulilahi"
Docs words repeated over and over in his head,
“And then I’ll cease to exist, I’ll… be dead.”
He shivered as he lit up a smoke,
The news seemed like an April fool joke.
He looked back through the glass door,
As he watched his son of ten, playing on the floor.
He turned away when he felt the pain under his vest,
From the cancerous wound that protruded from his chest.
It made his world begin to indiscriminately spin,
His legs shook violently as if his spirit tried to break out his skin.
He dropped heavily to his knees
And looked up saying “Not yet, God please”
“Give me a little more time with my little one,”
“To explain it to my son”
A white light for a split second flashed around him
From a flying object up high that shot out this beam
He was stunned for a short while
Then suddenly felt his chest and began to smile
The cancer was removed from his chest
“I’m healthy and strong like the rest”
He turned to tell the happy new to his son
But instead he didn’t see anyone
Opening the door, he called for his son and his wife
Suddenly he was hit by a man carrying a knife
The intruder was a soldier or that’s how he dressed
As they wrestled the knife plunged in his chest
He screamed, “Please don’t hurt my son John,”
The intruder’s eyes showed that something was wrong.
And what he said was stranger still
He called out “Dad is that you?” which gave him an eerie chill.
The intruder said “But how can this be?”
“You went missing 25 years ago you see”
“One minute you were smoking out side the next you were gone,”
He gasped for air as he lay dying on the lawn
The stranger looked up “Please God, I can’t loose my father all over again!!!”
But this time there was not light
as the
life
began
to
drain….
I heard heavenly music as it swept across the horizon It was an all inclusive sound calling the wild ones home
Not a soul was seen but always felt and heard throughout the valley floor Every species present left no doubt that they were always hungry for more
Singing and shouting and sounding like frogs and water fouls From near and far came birds of prey as well as tree sitting owls
Neither beast nor geese were excluded from their creator's song A gathering song that protruded the language of a thousand tongues
Not about you or me, those heavenly strings embraced a golden touch It was a powerful touch that brought every rival to a holy hush
The lions began to lie down along side the lambs*; and the children played near poisonous vipers
Seeds were the feast of Crocodiles who ceased to eat the wildebeest The presence of the magical music was like a calm to the raging sea
10052017 PS Premiere Contest #115, Strand *Isaiah 11:6
Sue S. Side Almost Won Out As The Tomb Poem...
(alternately titled: a page taken from the play
book of Little Miss Muffet.)
"Oh...My...Argh..." "Somebody...
Please...ease...help...me...ee"..., and
then dead silence, this comprises,
the sole thread bare strand
i.e. plaintive desperate plea – recorded
by emergency 911 agent Brand
N. Burg-Harris, a close family member
of the deceased, who
(said relation) hand
dully appeared aghast, shell shocked,
white as a ghost,
et cetera damned
near roundly dismissed,
but extraordinarily grand
lee escorted to safety,
as some VIP, who
under a "normal," regular,
and/or typical case, would be
gingerly brushed aside land
ding in the loony bin, what with his
babbling like a lunatic understand
ably very little attention paid,
but the sheer immensity,
sans horror surpassed any
concoction hatched, analogous
to grotesque japaned
artwork by necessity didst demand,
an extremely over
active imagination, thus
no "FAKE" spiderbiter words
exist to expand
to embellish, fabricate,
and/or surpass,
a terrifying, nightmarish,
and hideous circumstance
in summary visa a vis dis
covering Goliath manned
doubles (mandibles - jaws of steel),
wherein barenaked remnants
of Matthew Scott Harris protruded,
which humongous mouthparts
of gigantic sized
Tarantula pierced poison
into dangling, flickr
ring, and twitching
scant visible remains
of renowned Arachnologist, academician
passionate serious
die hard "Spider Man."
4/9/17
Vultures circled overhead then swooped in
Towards the remains of a human
Nearby an outcrop of rocks that protruded
Another morning filled with fog
A frog sat upon a log
Of which he was fond
Inside a pond full of fronds
Within a bog
Located way beyond
A horse named Cork participated in all sorts of sports
Involving some kind of course
Holding its own head up high, while it continued forth
Even when the winds blew with force
From the south, east, west or north
Close and far from any wharf
They won so often that there owner bought a porsche
And new home with a beautiful porch
A cat that was a black
Attacked a rat
Then ate it as a snack
Rather fast
In a patch of grass
Before it groomed and scratched
Then sat in the back of a shack
Nearby a hat rack and took a nap
At last
Out of town
Across a field that was recently plowed
A brown cow sat down
On the ground
Below a sky with little clouds
After it had some chow
Before, during and after it haled
A person had a few too many pale ales
Then went off the rails
By pulling off a chick's ponytail
And getting caught with a scale
Next day woke up in jail
With no bail
And realized they had failed
In their own coffin another nail
Eventually was released and got home to bills in the mail
And nothing but bread that was stale
So they inhaled
And focused on how to prevail
Throughout the trail
Before seeing boats in the distance with sails
Soon after flew by a flock of quail
And then far away towards the horizon, water spouted from a whale
By: Dalton Ogletree