Long Pu Poems
Long Pu Poems. Below are the most popular long Pu by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pu poems by poem length and keyword.
Cowards die many times before their deaths…
Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene 2 ~William Shakespeare
spouse
a souse
classic grouse
a big girl's blouse
portent ominous
assertions blasphemous
obscure and anonymous
his skulking is nefarious
utterances acrimonious
and implicature often dubious
uxorious but still pusillanimous
**********************************
An example of a rhopalic verse.
Rhopalism: A rhopalic sentence is one in which each successive word is one letter longer than the previous one. In poetry: where each word is one syllable more, or it might increase each line in a stanza by one syllable (per my example), or a metric foot.
IN THE SAME CATEGORY OF CONSTRAINED WRITING
The Rhopalic Couplet, also called Wedge Verse, was first used by Homer in the Iliad (3.182). It is a poetic unit of 2 rhopalic lines where each word progresses adding one more syllable than the preceding word in the line, for example, 1, 2, 3, 4 … syllables. The sequence of the syllable count can be identical in the second line, or it may be reversed. The couplet does not need not rhyme.
_____________________________________________________________
In The Coward, stanzas are broken up along the syllables of the end rhymes: spouse, souse, grouse, blouse; om-i-nous, blas-phe-mous, a-non-y-mous; ne-far-i-ous, ac-ri-mo-ni-ous, du-bi-ous & pu-sil-lan-i-mous.
LEXICON
acrimonious: (adj) (typically of speech or discussion) angry and bitter.
a big girl’s blouse: British idiom, meaning someone is ineffectual or weak; someone failing to show masculine strength of determination
disposition: (n.) inherent characteristics.
grouse: (n.) one who complains constantly.
implicature: (n.)* the action of implying a meaning beyond the literal sense of what is explicitly stated, for example, saying the picture frame is nice and implying I don’t like the picture.
innate: (n.) inborn, natural
nefarious: (adj) (typically of an action or activity) wicked or criminal.
portent: (n.)
1. a sign or warning that a momentous or calamitous event is likely to happen, an omen.
2. (literary) an exceptional or wonderful person or thing. [‘What portent can be greater than a pious notary.’]
pusillanimous: (adj) showing a lack of courage or determination; timid.
souse: (n.) a drunkard.
..............I could write you
...................poetic images
...............that would make
............other women drool.
...............Speak of sunsets
...........wired, computerized
....................................to
.....................................P
...................................PU
..............................PULSE
............ ...to the rhythm of
.........your striking features
B............Build you a ladder
.............from light, that we
..............could climb to the
..............gates of euphoria.
..............Tell you that they
.............named it after you
E..........................Ecstasy.
............I could and I would
.........but I know you better
.......... ....than that. I know
.....................what you like.
.........................I can taste
..............it on my buds. You
....................want a man of
......................simple words
..................spun from truth.
A.........A man that will never
.........run out on you. A man
..............that when you hold
......................is steady and
.............rooted. I am steady
..............and rooted but also,
...........I am in love with you.
U............Not by the waterfall
.........or against the light of a
..........full moon. Not walking
...................along the beach
....................while the ocean
..............whispers in my ears.
............. I love you first thing
.......even on a dingy morning.
........................I love you on
...........evenings when it is so
.........cloudy there is not even
................one star in the sky.
........It is just dark. I love you
.........when we're on separate
.......couches reading different
.......books. When we're alone
...........or together in a crowd
.......I love you from the other
........side of the room. On the
.......first floor when you're on
....the twenty third. When you
.....have a cold and even more
........when you are sicker still.
T.....The simple truth is you're
.........stuck with me from now
.............to eternity........why?
Y.................because the best
............part about you is that
.........I know you love me too.
01~22~2015
Sponsor: Rhonda
Contest: Hidden Beauty
I don't believe this how could it be?
The love of my life just walked out on me
Now is when the heartbreak comes to call
Unbelievably In an instant I just lost it All
Unsure whether to scream or to cry
Every part my Soul wants to die
I need you like I need the air
We had dreams why is life so unfair?
Together working towards our goal
Assumed wed be together & grow old
Unified your hand forever I would hold
Truth is you left me months ago
Optomistic heart refuses to let you go
Praying with help you'll get some clarity
Your heart knows you belong with ME
I love you why won't you let me in?
Amazing feeling your skin on my skin
We slacked didn't put each other first
Come back to me we can make it work
Remember the things we were gonna do?
no one on Earth for me there's only YOU
How I wish that you never got sick
Tell the Man I adore that hes sorely missed
That he's the sole owner of my heart
Remember we clicked right from the start?
The best first date ever on Earth
Can't imagine this soul crushing hurt
We said if we can't make it no one can
Dreamed of a life with my lover & best friend
.
You disappeared slowly, I hate this disease!
has completely devastated & ruined me
Our love story one of the greatest ever told
You are the piece that makes me whole
Somehow you forgot and left me lonely
Left alone and wracked with insecurity
We believed that we were meant to be
Brokenhearted as you slipped away slowly
We let this happen that's how it came to tbis
I believed that we agreed that we'd never quit
Suppose I just wasn't worth the fight?
You'll miss me on those cold lonely nights
I loved you since the day that we met
One day you'll be filled with such regret
Loyal & dedicated I did everything right
Fought for both of us put up a good fight
How can we fix this what can we do?
Finally figured out its not me its you
You understand me like precious few
Planned to wear those rings dreams of "I do"
Rare love that romantic poems are penned of
You don't give up on this kind of special love
Your heart knows I'm the best Women for you
Devastated watching as you fade from view
I
Sunlight waves
I look out into the world with drunken haze...
ever liked to hop on one leg and change the other?
Try it, you could tell which one is better; which one is sturdy, which one is weak.
Touch the stuble hair down there
You know, the ones between your knee
What other place is there to touch?
Are we getting frisky?
They're like tiny hammer nails, scratching on your fingerprint
Will it mess up your identity?
That tiny little cinch
Like a tear on a womens stocking; or could we still call it hoisery?
Why the thin lace, why the border; like the feeling of some order
Some reserve perhaps...
Hey
what do youy say?
shall we take a stroll together
an awckward feeling walk
where we could be so very open
and scare ourselves a bit
not knowing what the other says
not understanding the others jokes:
Every see a funny man cry?
Crying with his mouth and smiling with his eyes
All because his girlfriend got plastic surgery
He was happy for the rack, but when he check his wallet he was short stacked
Pu-Dum-Ching!
Hmmmm no good
Do watch the night sky and hope for a U.F.O
Undergarments Forfiting Options
...A bet the boys would like that
Boys...
Men...
That an interesting thing
I wonder when we stick with one, does the urge stay for a fling?
Is that what moves us from animal to man?
Tolerance and Control
I love you for I stay
But!
My apetite tells me to go, and go, and go
STOP!
GO!
Oh I don't know
Interesting many subjects floating in my head
I hope its not as original as I fed
but isn't it nice to be a little wierd?
The sun is shining thin
That answer's never clear
Les Souvenirs de Noël – Translation of Joy Williams’s « Memories of Christmas » by T. Wignesan
(Joy Williams, b. 1942 in Sydney. Since she was born « fair » of skin, the authorities forcibly removed her as a baby to be placed in a children’s home, and at the age of 6 to be assimilated in a « white » institution. She later studied for a B.A. at Wollongong University in New Soth Wales.
Joy’s first born, Julie-Anne Joy, was taken from her at 10 months by the Aboriginal Protection Board. She worked for an organization called : « Link-Up » in Canberra with tentacles all over the continent whose prescribed aim was to bring together parents and children thus forcibly separated by the authorities. Joy, finally, « linked-up » with her family 42 years after enforced separation. – Info culled from K. Gilbert’s Inside Black Australia,
Penguin, 1988.) T. Wignesan, Paris, December 16, 2016.
Les Souvenirs de Noël – Translation of Joy Williams’s « Memories of Christmas » by T. Wignesan
C’est 16 heures la veille de Noël et je pense de toi.
Je m’amuse en rappelant de ce que tu as dit : Noël est pour les
enfants –
Je pleurais car je ne jamais étais un enfant.
Je vois un arbre, tout allumé des guirlandes de Noël,
J’aperçois la réflexion des lumières dans les yeux de mes enfants tandis qu’ils dansaient autour de l’arbre avec une anticipation joyeuse.
Je me demande ce qu’elle aurait pu être la vie d’un enfant.
Est-ce que mes souvenirs auraient pu être heureux au lieu de rien ?
Est-ce que mes enfants se souviendront de leur enfance ?
C’est le matin de Noël,
J’entends des cries de joie,
On m’a réveillé d’un sommeil agité et j’ai senti deux pairs de bras autour de moi,
J’éprouve le sentiment qu’on a besoin de moi.
Dieu, comme j’aime mes enfants !
J’essaye d’apprécier le Noël à travers d’eux, mais, à l’intérieur, je pleure,
Une nonne arrive avec une boîte de vivres et je me sens maladive et vidée,
Elle comprend ce que je ressens. (Mettez la boîte là, je dis.)
C’est le soir de Noël,
Je suis fatiguée.
On m’aime.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
diploma acquired magna cum laude – double entendre
Xlv years elapsed since
I (former long haired pencil necked geek)
bid alma mater adieu,
the quietest kid, who never said boo
nobody discerned handy dandy blues clue
what yours truly thought,
cause figurative blanks he drew
remaining quiet as a Unitarian church mouse
never uttered a dog gone peep
extrovertedness he did eschew
even now two score and five years
after donning mortarboard and gown few
and far between words spoken
courtesy me, a former
Norwegian bachelor farmer
Lake Wobegon mine imaginary home
solely without friends grew
impulse to become linkedin
through schizoid personality disorder
offered solitary existence
alone within emotional wilderness hue
cannot imagine loneliness
(analogous to be bajillion miles
from nearest neighbor
while housed within igloo
mattered not whether gentile or Jew)
at tender growing up age obliviousness
suffused every cell constituting
Matthew Scott Harris
interestingly enough yours
truly quite outspoken
thru dimpled cheeky
adipose characterized kazoo
flatulence courtesy pop slop
incorporating secret ingredient
intended to ward off licentious
pheromone exuding females loo
sing hormonal secretions,
anyway said unmentioned
quite tolerant spouse,
(who remained faithfully
married enduring quarter century)
despite incessant husband
buttuck blasting - courtesy moo
ving odoriferous soundcloud waves
issuing ass him tote across avast spatial plane
resultant impact on par with nu
cull lee air fallout ooh
noxious human air pollution pu
tress hint smell as natural deterrent
to sexual reproduction, nevertheless
semen aligned (alphabetically
by athletic prowess) think queue
wee warriors able, eager ready and willing to
increase chromosomal revenue
blaring semper fidelis
as lucky sperm pierces zona pellucida
wee acted screw yule us,
when call of the wild – bald truth
found me to ejaculate and spew
sticky goo, and stopped reproducing
after daughter number two
me unbiased, but both offspring
attractive in their papa's view.
La Civilisation – Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal’s “Civilization” by T. Wignesan
Nous qui sont arrivés en retard à la civilisation,
Une lacune des siècles que nous ait laissé tomber,
Lors de votre arrivé à nos terres nous vous admirions émerveillés
Mais nous ne nous sentions pas effrayer.
A l’époque nous n’avions rien d’autre que le don d’être heureux,
Chaque jour un jour férié
Car nous étions des humains avant d’être des citoyens,
Avant d’être redevables aux impôts sur le revenu,
Et locataires, consommateurs, employés, paroissiens.
De quelle façon pourrions-nous comprendre
Les stratifications de l’homme blanc, toutes rigides et sans appel,
Vos totems sacrés, de Seigneurs et Dames,
Altesse et Sainteté, Eminence, Majesté.
Nous ne pourrions pas comprendre
Votre étrange culte de l’uniformité,
Cette adhérence totale à la ponctualité, discipline comme à programmer le travail.
Confus, nous nous doutions
De l’importance pour vous de l’urgence et de la signifiance
Des cravates et des gants, de cirage, de l’uniforme.
Des prisons et des orphelinats étant des nouveautés pour nous,
Des locations et des impôts, des banques et des hypothèques.
Nous qui possédons quasiment rien hormis les choses essentielles,
Nous n’avions pas des policiers, des avocats, des revendeurs intermédiaires,
Des courtiers, des financiers, des millionnaires.
Ainsi ces choses-là, tous ces merveilles nous avaient rendu abasourdis
Valeurs mobilières, le marché d’immobiliers,
L’intérêt composé, des ventes et des investissements.
Si nous avions pu nous en profiter et de nous faire élevés
Avec des telles connaissances nouvelles peut-être un nouveau monde aurait pu nous accueillir.
Absorbés de jour au lendemain dans de façon à vivre de l’homme blanc
Nous voilà acceptions avec résignation tout avec joie et reconnaissance,
Puisque c’est la voie de l’inévitable.
Mais souvenez-vous, Homme Blanc, si par contre la vie est faite pour atteindre la joie de vivre
Ne vous aussi nul doute éprouveriez grand besoin de changer.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
TRUMP SMELLS B.O.
TRUMP SMELLS B.O.
BUST UP THE BEAT TO INTRODUCE IT'S TEMPO
GOT ME PLACES TO GO
SILENCE IS GOLDEN GOT BLOOD THAT"S UNFOLDING
SITS IN HIS IVORY TOWER ENGAGED IN THE WALL WHILE HE SITS IN HIS IVORY TOWER
TRUMP SMELLS B.O.
I know years to know used to being with your history
eager long to achieve
needs to take a nice hot shower
going down to the wire...,
got choices with the most chances highway glances
glad he switch his Depends tyed beauty within,
another one bites the dust with the whole world in a rush
doing cart wheels out in the mood a sought of time to renew
Trump Smells B.O. which way should we go ?
some are in a trance
a given chance at any romance
Pac sought love through concrete
on again out again cry for relief
Can We Talk ?
hit a sister mister said to high HITLER,
SONG REMAINS THE SAME SOUGHT EVEN SHADE
LOVE FAXED IN WHERE IT IS WE DEPEND
YOU GOT TO KNOW WHERE YOU ARE iNSTEAD YOU HIDE LIKE ROSANNE BARR
NEEDS TO STOP BY INSTEAD OF GETTING HIGH
VAPE
with heightened fresh tender moments like these drift away to the sea...
suffering long in an empty room my pain drifts in illusive rights become pure
day by day we hear the sound of a lonely owl out in desperation my stomack leaks
cheer up good cousin as the thoughts simmer again back from beyond cracking,
this is enough of a good spot gross way back sat the owl in fact through radio
Trump Smells B.O. button down the captors embrace the hellos
I'm bust out the beat to increase the tempo...,
Silently in the dreams eating delicious ice cream,
I maybe a man of all mans,
P.U.
in the port of storm we call commercial radiating plugged in seperation,
fine darling pillars the growth of here after old man sit by the log cabin
at night he would take a pee outside his window taking heed to nature's dream
the owl would suddenly draw empty nothing but framed silence in togetherness
our cameras freshly made eating potato dumplings...
I aim human fresh under my wings,
look to the sun to help you get by...
Somebody please tell me where we went wrong
how we as a people go from we shall overcome
to uplifting these ghetto drug infested slums?
How we go from dreaming about and reaching
the promise land to teaching generations that
for money pu$$y & power is what they
should take a stand for? since when was
the same streets that killed our
brothers & sisters ever worth fighting for?
what happened to rec centers &
positive role models? all I see now is
so called...real men that teach youngins
to throw up gang signs & pop them hallows
yeah that's the motto...marriage is a joke
nowadays we live in a day where kids
look up to d-boyz & self proclaimed gangsta's
yeah this is what Martin Malcolm & Nelson
died for to see you destroy the community
y'all the real wanksta's...maybe we should
look at them parents who thought they were
to good to spank ya! what because you providing for your immediate fam illegally
you want me to thank ya? But you know what they say if the shoe fits...wear it
most these people won't even look their self
in the mirror cuz the truth they can't bear it
I swear it everybody's glorifying these
rap stars like they the next prophet
I ain't never seen a thug wit skinny
jeans on man y'all need to stop it
looks like history is bout to repeat itself
just imagine if the hottest rappers & diva's
in the game started to lift up our
Lord & Saviour's name, Imagine if they put
down their diamonds & necklaces
and went back to rhyming & singing
bout some life changing messages
how bout if women went back to owning
their territory got off the block
and back in the household, Imagine if
these men were lovers of their families
instead of being disrespectful too the same
people that... wiped their ass feed em and
cleaned that nose Imagine if we as a people
went back to that mission
to following God's laws on Holy Living
Aloha Weeps
Aloha weeps
In waves of grief
Pounding on a windswept beach
To grieve the loss of gracious footsteps
That gently walked upon its sand
Where the waves that tickled her heart
Now carry a plumeria lei
Beyond the horizon.
Pele mourns
Her adopted child
Whose fiery imagination
Flowed like lava in poetry
To build new lands of inspiration
Child, laughing in pikaki’s fragrant garden,
Slips quietly from breath’s bonds
Past the islands’ shores.
Trade winds grieve
Murmuring her name
Steadfast
In gossamer hues
Of orchids and hibiscus,
Hawaii’s pua aloalo,
So they remember to give
Breath to her words
Gliding over rolling surf
And rustling palms.
Rainbows cry
Reach out to touch
Her giving servant heart,
To touch her beauty,
To find her na'u garden empty
With only her Aloha scent
Lingering
Among the ilima of Oahu
As she soars on rainbow wings
Into friendly skies again.
The tropic sun laments
In a ring
Of fiery tears
In secret waterfalls
Among the blue awapuhi – trails of naupaka
And coral reefs
That guard tropical beauty
When tides recede
To hear the conch shell call her home.
Aloha Hawaiian Rose.
Mahalo nui loa, ka’u hoaaloha! Thank you so much my friend.
God be with you! ke Akua pu.
On the passing of Connie Marcum Wong!
Poet extraordinaire! Servant Heart! Faithful friend! Beautiful flower in Hawaii’s garden.
Constance means steadfast.
9-16-22
Thank you William, Hilo Poet, for teaching me the beauty of the Hawaiian language. I truly hope I have written it correctly to honor this beautiful language.
Awapuhi is a beautiful blue flower native to Hawaii.
Ilima is the flower of the island of Oahu
Naupaka is a small white, fragrant flower of Hawaiian legend
Na’u is the Hawaiian, fragrant gardenia
Pua aloalo is the Hibiscus – state flower of Hawaii