Long Puzzlement Poems
Long Puzzlement Poems. Below are the most popular long Puzzlement by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Puzzlement poems by poem length and keyword.
The Old Man Mistakes His Home
my eyes espy
follow the old man
as he makes his way
into the Taco Bell
my interest wanes of Tacos
piques at the old man's peculiarities
or is mine in question, too?
it's early morning
worms have risen
on a fisherman's hook somewhere
near ...
traffic and pedestrians a blur
but i see the old man sharp
... sharp as a cookie fallen
he hesitates at the front doorway
and looks at the keys in his hands
blinking, focusing on which key goes where
undoubtedly his mind playing tricks on him
he does the unthinkable
he puts his house key
into the Taco Bell key slot
panics
turns his phantom key
as if opening his house door lock
then turns five shades of red
making a beet proud
... then realizing where he's at
he looks around
he sees me watching
I tried looking away
but I have no facade
only puzzlement
and analytical tendencies
... to the old man's credit
he enters the restaurant
places his order, albeit shaken
two coffees, two breakfast burritos
I watched with bated breath
I empathize with the old man's plight
... yet in my mind's eye I think
Is this me down the road?
I hope not, yet there are signs
...huh? huh?
my hearing has become worse with age,
especially within the last year
connie pachecho
4/12/17
Visiting a beach full of childhood memories
Laughing, running, until exhausted,
Tide was out, expression used
Saw a vision of my Father, digging for bait
Pitchfork in hand studying sand and mud
Chose a patch of sand, is there something special?
All looked the same to children playing
Seagulls circling, screeching calls repeating
Removed Shoes then my socks
Rolled up my trousers what a sight
Laughed inwardly as to the scene unfolds
Aware of footprints leading into the distance
Remembered the game of measuring sizes
Who was it that walked before us?
Checked length of stride of footprints before me
A strange sight for anyone watching
A grown adult acting as if a child
My feet fitted into footprints before me
The stride felt so comfortable
Stopped for a rest looking skyward
So many seagulls, whirling, circling
Turned to view the trail of footprints
None behind me none in front
Sat on the sand, puzzlement indeed
Stood to walk back from where I came
No footprints appeared in the sand
A person walking on the beach
I tried to dodge, they passed right through me
À propos preponderant passion penning poems...
posited puzzling apt aperçu...
While pondering particular
theme to address
amidst tangled wide, whirled
webbed mental skein
today November third
two thousand twenty two,
unexpected Möbius strip
tease conundrum unforeseen,
yet as avid aspiring wordsmith
only now I became keen,
which unflagging vexillological,
theoretical, rhetorical, philosophical...
narratological, linguistical, judgmatical
historical, fantastical, didactical,
and bibliographical predicament
may not suddenly find me
flush with green
i.e. profuse legal tender,
but merely thought provoking
puzzlement addresses following quandary
stuck within gray matter of pate
impossible mission to differentiate
jagged fine line between
passion and obsession
case in point strong
affinity to write of late,
cuz yours truly susceptible
toward compulsion that doth not abate,
and mind boggling to wed healthy
love of language analogous as mate
nsync with psychological trait,
viz excessive compulsion
diagnosed years gone
by courtesy professional
mental health specialists, did annotate,
and I admit behavior impossible to satiate,
thus generating aforementioned query
how does one (me) segregate
productive interest versus excessive,
née fanatical all consuming -
affinity towards English language
I loopily, quirkily verily narrate
oft times burning midnight oil
(albeit figuratively alluded
to wicked mister Arson Wells) witness
as logophile doth painstakingly toil
bajillion cerebral threads to uncoil,
whereby utilizing figurative tweezers
uprooting, untangling rhyme I embroil
(even using Scooby Doo conditioner)
metaphorically beneath mine royal
hirsute (Scottish) matted topsoil
ultimately bringing in top gun
uncannily resembling gargoyle
shape shifting between
comical characters such as
Popeye and Beetle Bailey
at lightspeed as if
greased with Olive Oyl
so watch out Bluto,
get ready for turmoil!
Due to community quarantine enforcement
along social distancing detachment
our faculty meeting of task-assignment
went virtual via technology’s involvement
midst great excitement, anticipating joyous fulfillment.
Since such was first-time engagement
we strove not to be shocked by technical puzzlement
as we burst with laughter of merriment
in noticing each other’s physical development
obviously showing weight-gain and wellness-enrichment.
Starting with expressions of caring endearment
like “you look so blessed this moment…
in your stress-free environment…”
we all basked in warm fellowship of sight-hearing empowerment
not minding intervening communication-bafflement.
Then after the opening prayer marked by sober predicament
we noticed that we were not in sync with our agenda document
while modern “apps” became source of interesting argument
challenging the not-so complicated techie-sentiment
most of us cherished with simple faith's contentment.
Alas, we found ourselves seeking to be rescued from ignorance-torment
receiving this-and-that instruction of millennial comment
until told that time expired, so we must apply for another segment…
making us admit our need to learn social media’s fundamental rudiment
to be guarded from becoming crazy over teleconferencing impediment.
We thank God* that we were all in agreement
to meet again face-to-face, but not through internet-employment
for educational pursuit discussion, like students’ enrollment
especially that we are encouraged to use “on-line” settlement…
oh, how we beg for the Lord’s wisdom and enlightenment.
*2Thessalonians 2:13 …We are bound to give thanks alway to God…
August 21, 2020
3rd place, "Craziest Time At The..." Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger; judged on 9/27/2020.
The difference between a finger and a thumb
is Shakespeare. Anyone can dream
of a candle, but you’d better dodge your shadow,
because death, that great et cetera,
is the opposite of surreal. If there were no thunder
there would be no mountains, so something like a snowflake
cannot be conferred: it must be earned.
You will tell me that anyone can say this,
which is why I am saying it. Your puzzlement
shows how well you understand. It is important
to have someone to talk to
even if they can’t hear you. You can polish a mirror
until you see your face, but it will not
be you, because meaning is created
when we are not looking, while the grass
grows, grows, grows.
That was an ode to Walt Whitman.
I Have Just One Small Question
By Franklin Price
9/26/2015
I have just one small question
It's a puzzlement to me
What is the major tenet
Of Christianity
For each of us it is belief
That Christ died for our sins
To pave our way to heaven
Where eternal life begins
It really sounds quite easy
There to spend those endless days
After passing from this present life
Believing is the only way
For me it's not so easy
We must live the way Christ taught
Loving one another always
Cannot be sold cannot be bought
Treat others as we would ourselves
Help others to be free
Believing that Christ died for us
Is only just the start for me
Not a matter of convenience
When it behooves us to believe
Not take at cost to others
Better to give than to receive
Try hard not to waver
To not on purpose sin
Show others by example
Then Christianity begins
Looks like the question's not so small
Hard to live a Christian's days
But if you do peace comes to you
A way of life not just a phase
Silently, you come into the room.
No one even notices you there.
I see you move to the unsensing groom.
Do you bring gifts, wine to cheer?
Suddenly, your presence is felt with eyes
Drinking you in with bewildering puzzlement.
Men in wonder turn with hidden guise.
Do you bring wishes, words of benefit?
Where do you come from? Were you invited?
Will you be welcomed here? Tell us your
story to evoke good will, or should we be ignited?
Do you bring tidings, or something more?
The groom turns to see you come close.
His expression lightens in recognition.
With quickened steps he stops nose-to-nose
enfolds you tightly, relieving the tension.
“Welcome brother!” he loudly cries out.
“You, the older brother, gone to serve.
Home for this joyous union!” I shout.
We greet you with respect you deserve!”
So the brothers set strong resolve
To revel in the doubly cherished juncture.
Four short hours too quick to dissolve
the bond, too powerful to puncture.
Sprawling, against a backlit Sun. Magenta
the Clockwork of Time
and its infinite antinominies
..................of timeless aimlessness
and Void of Time
fades as a memory
the pulse and rhythm of each staccato stroke
against the clockwork springs
and fine-tuned apparatus
the pendulum swing
and weighted balance strokes
Masses of Fixed, orbital constructs
and circadian heartbeat pulses
conforming to some Final End
of Morbid Alarm
or Eternal Awakening
the surreal bending of metronome reflection
twists the Absolute structure of melody
(notwithstanding it's momentary cadence,
and sequence of endless notes
Cascading
backwards in patch-work puzzlement,
like Shostakovich having a break before the
Symphony begins
and lets out Piano-Forte brash
as if in dissonant protest
to the scandal of patterned, and ordered
Tablature
Today’s Good Deed
In your open hand
I placed a red rose petal upon it
You looked up at me in puzzlement
Curiosity won over fear
I replied “ the rose petal fell from the sky”
As I tried to capture and hold, it fluttered to your hand
I am sorry, was not I… simply the wind
You smiled retrieving your hand back to the pen
umm, ummm , excuse me miss
Sorry to disturb encore
You looked up, maybe even wishing me gone
I looked down, how does one fix that frown?
These by the way are for you, please, absorb the fragrance
Twelve lovely red roses
Oh but now your face is the absolute same color
Your frown is a smile
Alas beauty has fallen onto beauty
The mist of yesterdays tear, evaporates
but but but stranger man, why me?
The rose petal was a sign for us both you see
You so wished to know there is kindness in this world
I so wished to make anyone at all smile, even but for a moment
So you see, we both have achieved a goal today
I bid you good day, wishing thee well with flowery bouquet
Off I went, across the street, lurking in the shadows
Following close behind, almost empty street
Behind, a wire quickly wrapped around the neck
I slit the throat, blood spurting to the skies
Shock and wonder, why why why?
Death though came fast, I walked away
The roses made her smile only for a moment
Ah but her stalkers death by my hands.............
Shall wipe the sadness and frown
Her fears you see, I just drowned
In blood
I watched a raccoon on a warm, sunny evening
as he lazily sit upon a branch high in the breeze;
When all of a sudden a brilliant, bright butterfly
gently landed just below him on a leaf.
The raccoon's eyes lit up with curiosity at the
brilliance of it's colors, as it's wings slowed to
a soft flutter.
The raccoon reached out to touch the butterfly
and lightly it lifted it's self toward the sky.
The raccoon reached for it once more with
his little hands eager to touched what his eyes
adored. The butterfly would not come close enough
for the raccoon to touch and in puzzlement the raccoon
he did stare and watched the brilliant, bright butterfly
flutter in the air. The raccoon seemed to want a little
friend as the butterfly landed and was now sitting on the
branch's bend.
The raccoon longed to see the butterfly up close and to
touch it's colorful wings it adored. The raccoon stretched
out it's little black hand once more.
To my amazement the butterfly landed in it's hand, this I
adored. As I watched, they stared at each other for what
seemed like hours; It was an amazing site to see natures
love and appreciation for one another.
What a beautiful memory left on my heart of nature's love
and great spiritual power.