Long Ranting Poems
Long Ranting Poems. Below are the most popular long Ranting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ranting poems by poem length and keyword.
A tortured spirit, earth bound wreaths in agony,
trapped within human body, desperate for freedom.
To be able to escape and hide from other's sight,
to escape the whispers that cut like knives.
Always chained, seeing nothing from balanced point of view.
Reading friendly gestures as threats, wanting love and yet,
unable to give back due to fear and lack of trust.
Forever tied by the silken threads of bi-polar.
Looking always with suspicion on friendly gestures
searching them for hidden agenda or betrayals.
Often over loving, smothering the participant
only to suddenly withdraw and push them away.
Talking to one's self often just privately ranting
blaming all but one's self caught up in madness.
Few things seem to relieve this sense of persecution
and so this tortured soul fights on forever trapped.
She fell from the light, into a world shadowed in gray.
~ by poet
An angel pouted to protest her punitive plight
No repentant redemption for her serious sins
Wings waylaid, the fatuous one was felled in flight
And from Heaven hurled; now banishment begins
Resentfully she roams in shadows of somber skies
An enraged expression marring her fractious face
A ranting rebel like the dastardly devil, father of lies
Dwelling in darkness due to her decadent disgrace
No earthly escape will she discover through death
Crows circle and caw, crying out in a clamoring voice
With crass words she crudely curses in banal breath
Wicked wrongdoer, condemned for her corrupt choice
With foolish folly she sorrowfully surrendered her soul
and delves within deep darkened depths for eternity
All alone, there will be no one to comfort and console
From shadows and suffering, she will never break free
She sulks upon sullen stygian shores of the river Styx
without a reprieve or relief from tormenting terror
There's no exit from her eternal eviction as time ticks
for Satan's spawn, shrouded in shame for her error
August 30, 2022
Alliteration Old or New Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
Knock knock guess who’s back for more,
thought you’d seen the last of me oh you shouldn’t be so sure,
Knock knock guess what’s now in store,
you only won the battle we’re still at damning war
Bang bang have I gone to far with this
duck that you’re a narcissist
there’s no to far apart you witch,
as long as I am breathing they'll be a reason
to impart this evil feeling you started breeding
on that power trip
did you think you’d shut me up I wouldn’t flip,
I can take defeat when it’s honest and earned
but I promise you
that you didn’t do and you should be concerned,
I could take it to court see it get ajourned,
sell it to the magazines as a lesson to be learned,
arrive at head office see them deny it,
I won’t drop it, whatever the case Im a town cry it,
aint lying, the fact I'm ranting shouldn't be a surprise,
knock me down I rise,
knock knock I survive, let's rumble you dumb fool with brain of mice
round two ding ding think you'll get me twice,
12 years ago was a long flipping time
so 12 years from now you can bet your bottom dime
you can bet it til I die,
you messed up this head of mine so I'll make yours a messy mind,
a mess for a mess aye bet you wish you weren’t unkind,
I’ma make you wish you could rewind time!!!
All I need to do is circumnavigate my way around your great big massive backend, keeping you safe until a few years have gone by, my it's wide,
bigger than Saturn and Jupiter combined, an intergalactic behind.
Spring, Where Are You?
The cold wind is blowing,
with no sunshine showing,
and now it is snowing!
Spring, where are you?
Plant life should be teaming
new stems and buds streaming,
yet, Spring is daydreaming
midst the cold brew.
We've held off our planting,
no seedlings transplanting.
More nor'easters ranting!
What can we do?
This Winter's still fighting
the Springtime we're sighting...
long days, the sun lighting
flowers in view.
Cold Winter days clinging,
as Spring's out there winging;
our hopeful hearts singing,
let Spring come through!
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Early March 2019
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 03/02/2019
Let’s relax along mentorship pleasure
to bask in varied students’ excuses when facing pressure
as they abound for sure…
Learner A says, “There is a lion in the way”
so I’m late for the reporting schedule today
hope to fulfill it later, I pray.
Learner B uses blame game, insinuating
“the serpent beguiled me” into such tainting
thus, I succumbed to the ranting.
Learner C retorts with confidence reign
“the dove returned not again”
when asked of his assignment he forgot in vain.
Learner D enumerates alibis to cover negligence
even citing Balaam’s talking ass confronting guilty conscience
pledging to show next time enduring diligence.
Learner E lets absenteeism be justified
testifying, “I’m the lost sheep personified
needing teacher’s patience, greatly magnified.”
Learner F, for missed requirement, declares candidly:
“Mine was done perfectly; indeed realistically...
... and then a flaming pterodactyl ate my homework surreally.”
Learner G, muses midst rationalization glow:
“'When thoughts cease to flow ~Where does ego go'”**
May, I please be forgiven as I ask for understanding-flow."
Well, as a learner myself, I admit with earnest confession
my human nature is no exemption
so my heart seeks the LORD*** for wisdom’s implementation.
*Proverbs 26:13 The slothful man saith, There is a lion in the way; a lion is in the streets.
**Unseeking Seeker
***Proverbs 2:6 For the LORD giveth wisdom: out of his mouth cometh knowledge and understanding.
February 4, 2021
Edited on May 14, 2022
Tristich in Rhyme form
3rd place, "Bubble of illusion" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker; judged on 5/20/2022.
TRAVAILS OF A NON-INSOMNIAC
Everything around was going peacefully and fine
until a new family occupied the flat above mine.
The cacophony at the day time is rather tolerable,
but the noise that rattled the night is unbearable.
When it’s time for me to sleep every single night
their nocturnal activities begin, imagine my plight.
Tables and chairs make unending creaking crawl,
heavy footsteps on floor, the ceiling seems to fall.
The broken sleep tortured takes a fatigued flight
leaving me anguished ranting on pillow whole night.
Repeated requests haven’t yet yielded any result,
being insomniac, I’m falsely told, isn’t theirs, my fault.
After nightly torment I’m in so much of mental strain,
it’s a matter of time when sleep starved I’ll go insane.
I don’t know what I should do now, I have no clue,
would anybody care to advise me if I should sue.
December 26, 2018
say yes to drugs
tax to death successful people
California is a jester's joke
porous borders
corrupt puppets and very broke
white apologists
pandering votes
magnifying our differences
waging war on the police
murdering babies (in the first degree)
glorify gangsters
10 pages of felonies
another slap on the wrist
flying leer jets
while ranting about going green
cry phobia and racism
if somebody has a different opinion
scream at the sky
anarchists of Berkeley
rioting against free speech
sell uranium to the commies
caress illegal immigrants
at the expense of good citizens
Why would you want to
impeach somebody working for free
willing to clean up your mess
Why would you want to impeach success?
Strikingly crafty logomaniac presents...
what else... his trademark blatherskite!
While sprawled comfortably
numb upon davenport
Iowa daily dose of poetic mishmash,
thus yours truly couches, kneads, sports...
his imponderable matted
swiftly styled balderdash
noah intent to kindle
potential ark enemy, nor abash
please pardon your
garden variety philologos,
preparing himself for backlash
he spouts nonsense words
with chutzpah and brash
his logorrhea affliction begets
meaningless rot i.e. namely ishkabibble,
where scapegoated test dummies crash
inscrutably, dumbly, busily blankly
boxing, blinking, batting... eyelash
hijacking, flouting, disregarding... covenant,
not causing corpus callosum damage
basically self made edict equals hogwash,
within one North American banana republic
predicated upon fiat gnash
trumpets blatantly non subliminal,
subordinate, subtle... ho hum
messages cuz bosh to liberty we smash
with most popular refrain
"send her/him back" cash
hearing purported dispensable
deportee with swash-
buck killing bravado
marquee, where klieg lights
blindingly broadcast in a flash.
"FAKE" mania loosed doth stall
refugees, where desperation witnesses
land of milk and honey,
perhaps some heading to Broomall,
who if necessary crawl
escaping forced sex trafficking poverty,
persecution, violence... downfall,
viz puppet government
tricked out noble (no bull) border wall
configured as demilitarized zone
hostilility spewing noxious,
poisonous, venomous gall
courtesy commander in chief
who essentially hoops to forestall
his impeachment proceedings
bristling, ranting, scathing... twitter feeds
spewing bosh raining hatred filled squall
spouting jingoistic rhetoric
atop anointed hall
of the mountain king
eerily similar to Taj Mahal
firing expletive epithets
assenting military mandating withdrawal
loosing vicious police and/or junkyard dogs
declaring no exemption against marshall
law innocence absolute zero guard
as sharp teeth nsync with flesh maul
cue hideous sinister laughter
welcome to danse macabre ball!
Speak we of our character lost
Effect of slanders wicked cost
Aimed as a weapon to fire
Puts reputation on burning pyre
Careful planting the malevolent word
Pretending to wish it hadn't been heard
Within the confines of inevitable fate
Rarely give the dice a fair shake
Loaded meaning are there to be found
Casting unknowing victims to ground
Caught in the fire is the unwary
Who know naught that the intent to bury
Alas the attempt to defend ones self
Does nothing but reinforce such stealth
It is better for the one who has bled
To leave his ranting and raving unsaid
For only time can heal the wound
When malignant speech comes to tomb
Time unfolds the tales told
Even be they glib lies bold
So rest comes easy naught
To the one who's lies have bought
His friends and world eventually
Won't be blind but certainly see
That actually to reverse was true
That he was wicked but not you
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
When tongue is silent, but muse is chanting - that's poetry.
When we write what the heart has been asking - that's poetry.
As dawn's hues glisten golden rays, in blue, bronze, orange skies,
musings mirror daydreams, so enchanting - that's poetry.
Butterflies smooch cosmos, as bees sip on dahlias nectar.
Scents of deep red roses start enhancing - that's poetry.
Clement air pleasantly overwhelms with pleasures of love,
muse becomes a bard lost in romancing - that's poetry.
Mentality turns dark when clouds spread densely like ash smoke.
Scarlet ink screams tears to stop storms advancing - that's poetry.
In shades of loneliness, thoughts reach out to our loyal moon,
beneath her moonlight we sojourn, standing - that's poetry.
A heart is healed by spoken words composed with compassion.
Poets smile when they see sad lips laughing - that's poetry.
As sands of sorrow pause, soul glows like a million fireflies.
Nature's metaphors leave our pens dancing - that's poetry.
Stale ink dehydrates and thoughts become segments of cement,
mind is a machine, where words keep jamming - that's poetry.
Daylight or night, bed, bath or driving, lyricists inspired
by sunshine, snow or when rain is lashing - that's poetry.
Word weavers scribbling sonnets, free verse and poetic prose,
forming imagery instead of ranting - that's poetry
Silent One, writes to honour Rumi, Shakespeare and Wordsworth,
In hope my words will be everlasting - that's poetry.
The Silent One
29 August 2020
An example for the Ghazal contest.
This Ghazal has a two worded refrain. Slightly different in format to previous ghazal, I posted, called 'Only the moon understands.'
This one has 14 syllables each line.
There are different definitions for a Ghazal, and different interpretations of the from.
Ghazal poetry is poetry of longing. Traditionally, the ghazal tended to focus on unattainable love, often illicit, or sometimes on metaphysical questions. But, today, the ghazal has broadened to touch many types of longing and loss.
The ghazal is a form poem that uses the art of rhyme and repetition. As it is originally a Persian form and the Indian subcontinent, the refrain and rhyme can be lost when translated to English, as is the meter.