Long Reed Poems
Long Reed Poems. Below are the most popular long Reed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reed poems by poem length and keyword.
Impossible mission, nonetheless
eschatological, diabolical, critical...
dire straits betokens armageddon.
Come Tuesday, November 3, 2020
mandatory voting obligation to oust
horrible malevolent commander in chief.
Spanish and English writing on border wall
bespeaks impending apocalyptic windfall
weapons of mass destruction concomitant ashfall
brinkmanship ticks doomsday clock, hence the call
muster civilians and military troops coup to marshall
tuckered bands overthrowing pathological
megalomaniac haint your
homegrown garden variety apprenticed screwball,
Née commandeer of human abuses free world oh God
this exclamation ejaculated yours truly house atheist
runs ruinously, reprehensibly, rampantly roughshod
scaring out bejesus within winkin blinkin and nod
land of powdermilk biscuits and raw bits promises
to become ground zero predicated boneheaded clod.
Atrocious, cantankerous, egregious,
grievous, ignominious... dispensing
most every venerated, ushered, touted,
sacred, revered, pronouncing
progressive amendments dead
on arrival blithely shredding to tatters
hard won reforms since Fred
Flintstone days of yore shelving
codied, ratified, sanctified... shed
jeweled important legislation,
plus Russian musk cows to wed
Putin on the ritz.
Blasphemous, cantankerous, deleterious...
execrable folly... doth seed
subsequently begetting and breed
anarchy, chaos, hell, plus helps
foment pernicious, ominous,
noxious, malodorous... misdeed
pitting one against another creed
internecine warfare, where liveried
troops don and trumpet
(auld) alternative energy
fighting gear powering, i.e. ac/dc freed
one or more dirty deed
done dirt cheap reducing at lightspeed,
the hard fought/won democratic
inalienable rights purportedly guaranteed
by United States constitution,
(though oft times bias, i.e. reed
anti semitism, charade, facade...) heed
trample equality, morality, universality...
making mockery (attested bleed
courtesy flagrant historical extant bigotry,
chicanery, depravity... greed).
Hence, I step off figurative soapbox
dodging any lobbed missiles or rocks
no surprise bullied by same jocks,
who tormented me during high school
probably tattooed, pierced, and bald of locks
unlike yours truly, he sports self
as aging pencil neck geek
wearing non matching shoes and socks.
Remember...Remain Calm, Collected, And Cool...
Matthew Scott Harris...ARG
This, a near imp
possible mantra to apply
when this 2009
Macbook Pro went awry
triggering this enduser
to experience tidal waves of high
anxiety, which besieged this fie
foo fighting dirt po' pa well nigh,
who might need buy
another laptop, yet my
anorexic checking account
on life support, no lie
could not afford, (to sigh
phone even one red cent,
all because ordinary healthy
electrons deployed aye
did NOT see usual expected
predictable apple luck
quiche hun activity via my
left and right eye,
yours truly did not espy
usual kickstarting linkedin magic after
preliminary electronic setup
unexpectedly failed to start -
no idea why
unbeknownst tummy, what
ghost in the machine didst defy
programming code of honor,
whereby pixel display
unexpectedly exhibited "abnormal"
computer behavior -
like a turncoat ally
meaning one hoop wrest
illegally start button signaling
subatomic warfare unleashing - guy
did missiles as taught
during routine training
to turn bot tin down stevedores
loose on the Jobs (dan-g) rather, I
watched slack jawed,
as that very singularly narrow
vertical lined band width
(analogous to a medium black
sabbath tipped magic marker)
did NOT display
prestidigitation instantaneous flash
demarcating binary DMZ
(demon mailer zone,
viz dividing screen in half, -
versus top to bottom array), qua
incomplete automatic
initialization stopped
partway thru automatic preparation,
after which cryptic
error message appeared,
which malfunction found me
bursting with damned tears,
and ready to cry,
(which gush of tear
rivalled Hurricane Florence),
cuz mechanical and/or
application so much
of my creative
write minded person
(reed literary) self choked life vie
ability to live, thus the only alternative
...insane asylum to apply!
--------------------------------
SPOILER ALERT...
postscript: after some fluke brought
desk top in view, the quick thinking
chap attached an external drive to a
USB port, and thus breathed easier
knowing a backup got made.
Fascinated by a word ‘lofty solitude’
I, as a tall and dignified pine tree,
once stood high on a mountaintop
that stands there from a time remote in antiquity
the unfathomable height.
However, I have burned the pride of the pine tree
to ashes in the sunset glow
because no one ever noticed the trail after trials of hardship
the pine tree underwent to sustain the self as pine tree
on the summit of mountain, and, therefore, I felt offended.
Bewitched by a word ‘tragedy’
I was, as a fluffed giant rock,
stood on the cliff no one ever stepped on
in one of those stormy night,
the roaring thunders, dazzling lightening
and the darkness reigns with flapping huge wings.
However, unable to hold own weight any longer,
wishing to mount on the back of a cloud,
I tried to hold a drifting cloud struggling with tiptoed stretches.
Becoming a captive of a word ‘anguish’
I wandered the wilderness
with thirst under burning sun
and hunger in chilling air at night.
However, the word anguish was the fierce torture
the whip inflicted on no one but self,
and, therefore, the deep wound never be healed
gives sharp pains unable to bear.
I thought the word 'loneliness' becomes to me,
I sat by the window counting a lot of stars in nightly sky
heaving with sighs as many as the stars I have counted.
I spent the sleepless night longing for an unknown love
in the ripples of moonlight,
the breaking surfs by the window.
However, throughout a night’s loneliness
I was overcame by sorrow, and became the drops of tears
and heaped up to overflowing in my heart’s river,
the solitary stream had nowhere to flow.
For a word ‘moksha--spiritual awakening' is so awesome
I roamed here and there wishing to find it the meaning of life,
and when I found it, I have collected it with joy
and packed it in old beaten knapsack I was carrying and returned.
However, when knapsack was unpacked and found was,
neither the will nor the way as I was expected all along,
but full of useless stones the darkness that is darker
then the raven’s feathers.
After all,
I think I do understand the meaning of the word ‘life’
though vague and fragmentary, now, I am standing
as a stem of reed in the marsh by a river
while swaying about in the wind
to tattoo the word ‘life’ on my sick and weary body.
Listen up, my daughters, let me break it down
Life's a stage, but you're not here to clown
You've got to face the music, face it strong
Face your fears, show the world where you belong
Don't let them clip your wings, wings are meant to soar
Winging it sometimes, that's what life is for
But root yourself in values, roots run deep
Rooting out the nonsense, that's wisdom to keep
Stand your ground, ground yourself in truth
Grounding your decisions, from age to youth
Rise above the noise, rise like the sun
Rising to occasions, that's how battles are won
Weather the storm, weather it with grace
Weathering criticism with a poker face
Steel your nerves, steel them like a blade
Steeling yourself for the choices to be made
Bridge the gaps, bridge them with your mind
Bridging understanding, leaving doubt behind
Scale the heights, scale them bit by bit
Scaling back expectations that don't fit
Balance your life, balance work and play
Balancing act, that's the price to pay
Weigh your options, weigh them carefully
Weighing in on issues, speak out clearly
Brave the odds, brave them with a smile
Braving new frontiers, go the extra mile
Charge ahead, charge your inner battery
Charging through obstacles, set your spirit free
Light your path, light it with your dreams
Lighting up the darkness, nothing's as it seems
Fuel your passions, fuel them day and night
Fuelling your ambitions, keep your goals in sight
Don't be too rigid, rigid minds will break
Rigid rules are meant for you to shake
Be flexible, flexible like a reed
Flexing your strength, that's what you'll need
Channel your emotions, channel them right
Channeling energy into your fight
But don't let them flood, flood your rationality
Flooding your judgment leads to fatality
Remember, my daughters, life's a complex game
Gaming the system isn't the aim
Aim for integrity, aim for what's true
Aiming high, that's what you should do
So face the world, face it head-on
Facing challenges, that's how you'll grow strong
The ball's in your court, court success with zeal
Courting life's adventures, that's the real deal
Now go forth, my daughters, write your story
Story of courage, rationale, and glory
Storying your journey with each passing day
Journeying forward in your unique way
Dawn, when silence falters
And the trees of the range-
Are tucked in a bucket of fog
Marching dawn, whose beauty never alters,
I tuck myself in blankets like a log
At the Treetops Hotel upon the range
Dainty dreams upon dawn’s altar
The dappled peacock dazes the dawn
While the African crowned eagle
Will soar, prowling for prey
And tourists peep and picture the fawn
While their eyes prowl the breakfast tray
Jacaranda festooned fashion regal
Its blue flowers blue snowfall upon dawn
Elephants trudge to the watering hole
Buffalo follow, even the bush buck
The warthog always walks silly,
The big five will steal your soul
At the Ark's perch, you will be stuck
The water adorned by the pond lily
The range's serenity, waters your soul
Pristine streams gush from the moorlands
The Hagenia, decked in velvet green
The sword lily, sheathed in fibrous tunic
And as the Karuru falls hit land
True love will pierce to the gene
For pristine nature, is the true cupid.
Breaths bated as lovers hold hand
Further, nestled nigh in the blue skies
The Kinangop peak, peeking through
The closer I get, the further it hides
A sun bird chatters, along my trail's high
My eyes in tune, such wondrous hillsides
I sweat as I head towards the bamboo
I am among the butterflies
Ringlets in a dance, oh! Surreal world
Monkeys swing, tree to tree, a trail of imagination
A reed buck is openly grazing
A canvas of the grassland in its gold
I spot a Serval cat, in hiding
On a safari truck, the breeze is an inspiration
Beauty flows in the altitudes that I behold
At dusk the steeped villages prepare for sleep
The Nyandarua range, yawns its last
Fabled home of the Kikuyu god
Curtain like shadows befall the steep
And this wonderland begins to nod
As the women fluff off days dust fast
Men’s ears wide open as it darkens deep
Wild animals are known to visit
Roving around, excitement for the young
But the animals are known to visit hungry
The locals know too well, memories vivid
An elephant’s wrath is meted out bluntly
Protection for man and beast not far flung
Conservation and nurture is the spirit
As Mount Satima watches her watered floors,
She knows the heart goes deep
Collaboration with njeri hunjeri who is a wonderful poet
Autumn In The Air - Hooray
Respite from punishing
heat wave - yay
which above line,
could "speak" volumes,
and be a stand alone poem
offering readers
a reprieve nsync
whence roasting, sultry,
and torpid unpleasant
weather since yesterday
boot such brevity,
would disallow
me to extemporize,
but more importantly today
this intrepid word
smith doth "say,"
he would never
wanna miss trodding,
the formerly (golden
in their heyday now sketchy),
sections of said roadway,
now where digital electronic
rustily hinged, abandoned,
and gated haunting quay
a throwback, when
private manned schooners
(shaped like a beer stein),
perhaps headed to Uruguay
could ply outlying
waters of cyberspace,
why... just yesterday
when my troubles
did not seem so far away
versus this present opportunity
to risk live and limb
(and Kong like wrath
of my reed ding fans)
while getting way
laid "traveling as
Wilburys soul survivor
foreign ancient groupie,"
the dangerous, derelict, and dicey
dubiously dotting dilapidated,
dark corners information
super high way,
thus yours truly
doth not heed,
but flaunts like some cray
zee (NOT RICH, NOR ASIAN),
but rather some gray
beard (grizzled), curmudgeon
figuratively gnarled, toothless,
and weatherbeaten lackaday
lay about good for nothing
mellow flew wuss depraved
('cept mebbe "robbing"
precious and special time
of some bachelor
farmer from Norway)
all the above
essentially wrote for naught
merely (as diversion) to comment,
how this September day wrought
ascent o' fought
(a scent oh aught) tum caught
me wear'n a corduroy
long sleeve shirt since...aye taut
a "FAKE" hungry
Grimm gimlet eyed trumpeting lout,
germane Don apprenticed
how to become cannibalizing
(without accountability) fuhrer,
(and lastly rendering enemies
into sweet tasting sauerkraut),
this while learning das dialect
(tickle) Matt speak,
(which took me a lifetime),
this preceding the
quirky invention of the umlaut!
Axe the old Don, a trump peter n piper
of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
ha air brushed pompous ****
Sunkist in Macy's window
then like a jackal hound, he doth run
after public outcry yelps
for his hide leaving
proletarian discord re: pyrrhic victory won.
Donald Duck Trump ™$ - a pompous ass
makes war with his big brass
knuckles and bucket of crass
maligns vis a vis character assassination
while kissing thing kith
darting forked tongue sharp as bro kin glass
inciting banal deathly hallowed
expletives toward lass
sees – especially Fox Television
news anchor woman Megyn Kelly
(quite so many ill mannered indiscretions ago)
inducing said personality
to bear the brunt of brutish mass
of vitriolic n vile insults sacrilegiously
maliciously, noxiously, opprobiously
incriminating, hellaciously,
desecrating opportunistically as hiss oh piss
so…NO amp pull VOTE of confidence from me
(thus far ohm host halfway to 2020 election
toward such a volt char quite rude, snooty
arrogant simian with sass.
I van (terribly hard pressed)
to describe while sitting on me rump
how he oh bomb in lee rages
gnashing false teeth
Wilma backside doth slump
still blasting Democratic nomination
(pa hill a reed) as sham –
from special interest bro and sis turn pump
he, the epitome of
crass bloviation, a malignant lump
whose rants,
sans presidential outcome a shame
bullying with his millions beds this,
that and another woman to bareback jump
disseminating gene pool
birthing more Quakers
and additionally doth hump
the mass media as some foolhardy charade
and caricature of a frazzled grump
this arboreal clothed ape erected Taj Mahal
phallic symbol, where players dump
and gamble away hard earn cash
for his kitty, as if that cachet
to grind and bump
lambasting with maniacal
like "Stormy Dan" yells
leering oafish ill pout
while hair rum
(of red follicular) bulls ad hocks
atop his bulbous aerosol sprayed locks
resemble a flock
of bronzed sea gulls mocks
heady measly shaped Muppet Ox
dis eased cranial hologram shocks
of a cretaceous, facetious tocks
(sic) exogenous, insidious, and obstreperous vox.
The universal worm has got some competition now,
since ‘Sandy’ took me out to Bateson’s dam.
This don’t include the ‘whitchys’ we get in a broken bough,
nor ‘scrubbies’ on the hooks we have to cram
to hide the silver hook
that a ‘blackie’ sometimes took,
where a ‘mudeye’ just might have a better look.
We have to have a bucket for these water baits we scoop,
and a net of fly-wire mesh across the face
that’s been tied on with fishing line, around a metal hoop,
keeping flatness of the fly-wire in its place;
so when the net is lifted
and the water’s all been sifted,
we grab our bait, and with a turn the net is shifted.
We must don a pair of waders when we wander past the edge,
for our gumboots do not have the needed height.
And as we scoop the bottom in amongst bulrush and sedge,
at first we see the shrimp put into flight;
but gambesia and ‘toe-biters’
rarely show that they are fighters,
and multitudes of water beetles, are un-needed ‘blighters’.
Now the water lily pads that extend across the pond,
offer some protection from a diving bird.
But the tangled stem’s and roots, are no barrier to squand
a chance to net amongst the water stirred.
And little pygmy perch,
arch their pretty backs and lurch.
Quickly released for they’re not in our search.
And backwater from the overflow is holding treasure too,
as it wraps the base of tussock, weed and reed.
‘Sandy’ said “In here there is yabby”, and we net up quite a few -
the ultimate of lure when a blackfish wants to feed.
So yabbies highly rate,
as the premier blackfish bait,
almost if to say; write a ‘blackie’ on my slate!
And with numbers in the bucket quite enough to see a day
of fishing in the Bunyip, Lang Lang or Minniburn,
I go looking for the wildlife that we’ve kept at bay,
when scooping water’s edge became our turn.
There’s teal, black duck and swan;
pygmy geese keep feeding on,
but shy mountain ducks have took to wing and gone.
So Bateson’s dam’s a haven from the damming of a creek,
where expanding water draws a teeming crowd.
When fishermen like us retain the chance to reach our peak,
netting better baits where there’s better baits endowed;
if we take a little care,
and we take what’s only fair;
the better baits we seek will still be there.
“Wandering through empty and crowded streets with no destination in sight and sleeping under the sky with the fire burning inside was my life, the life of a vagabond. Survival is a funny game and life is an endless odyssey for survival” ~ By Poet
Homeless, a wanderer all his life.
An orphan, he was raised in the streets.
Mongrel dogs and gypsies were his company.
He had wild days and dolorous times.
At nights, he curled up on street corners,
Had brawls with other street children.
But as he grew up, he began nursing a dream,
To own a home and no more be a vagabond.
He took up odd jobs and worked day in and out.
Over time, against heavy odds
A little hovel, he did build,
In a verdant stretch of fertile land
Off the noisy, frenzied crowd
With sheaves of hay, he thatched its roof.
With reed and bamboo, its walls were made.
With mud and charcoal, its floor was glazed.
With wooden planks, its entrance he laid.
At dusk, when birds to their nests depart,
And beasts, to their covert burrows and dens,
After the day’s toil, weary and weak,
He curls into the cozy comfort of his home.
Through months and years, it gave him succor.
Sheltered him from storm and rain.
Made him differ from the gypsy tribe.
Lent him a footing in this populous world.
He wove around it many a dream.
With frugal care, his needs he met.
Like a squirrel stocking nuts and grains,
In it's secret granary for the rainy days,
He saved all that he had earned,
For a life to be lived later in bliss.
But alas!
His haven lies so derelict!
Its very foundation raced to the ground.
The once beautiful stretch of land,
Robbed of its greenery and grace!
The eviction squad usurped his land,
Hurling him down to the streets!
Making him once again a vagabond…
Bewildered, failing to budge an inch,
Like a boat, midway stranded in sea, he stood.
But his resilient spirits, to him affirmed,
‘Never defeated, though destroyed'
Soon the mud hovel, to a palatial mansion turned.
Where he envisioned himself as king of the land.
His smiling progeny picking fruits from his orchard,
And his cattle chewing cud in the shade of trees.
Why scoff it as the fancy of a fevered mind?
Oh! But to dream is every man's right.
Dr Doom: Well Reed, we meet again, and excuse me for putting your dear ex to sleep, or she'd use her powers to conjure that defense shield that would make capturing the "Eccentric Four" a bit more tiresome.
Mr. Fantastic: Well, Doom...
Dr Doom: I'm a doctor! The only real doctor around here.
Mr. Fantastic: Oh, quite right. Your four years report card, hmm?
Dr Doom: Are you forgetting where you're at? We are not in a classroom listening to some old fool babbling on and on and...
The Human Torch: Oh, you mean like what you are doing now old man, or is it, old fool!
Dr Doom: You smudgy little butane you!
The Human Torch: If you hurt my sister, I'll... oh sis you're up, are you ok?
The Invisible Woman: Just a bit woozy, but I'll be fine Johnny.
Dr Doom: You'll do what!
The Human Torch: Huh?
Dr Doom: You said that if I hurt your sister, you'll do ... well, what, what were you going to do?
The Thing: Well, if he doesn't do it, then I will!
Dr Doom: Will what! I'll what! What is it that you guys will do? Who do I have here? The Fantastic Fools!
The Human Torch: You'd better watch out, don't get my buddy Ben mad, ... or he'll get STONED.
Mr. Fantastic: Ready Sue.
The Invisible Woman: Yes Reed.
Mr. Fantastic: Ben now!
The Invisible Woman: Johnny, quick!
Dr Doom: Huh, where, who, when, what?
The Human Torch: You forgot the "how"! Ready Reed.
Mr. Fantastic: Yeah, I got him. Get on board our ship and fire it up!
Dr Doom: Ugh, Let go of me you Rubber Duck!
Mr. Fantastic: You mean, Doc, as in doctor, right, Sucker Loon! Okay, guys, here I come. Speed away, Ben!
The Thing: Okay, and away we go!
The Human Torch: Woo Hoo!
Dr Doom: I'm all tied up, get me out of here!
Speaker: The men just ended their shift and we will be back tomorrow to untie you sucker, I mean doctor.
Dr Doom: We? What do you mean we?
Speaker: We all joined the Space Union yesterday. I know you're mad doctor, so after we untie you tomorrow morning, I will have a Grievance form ready for you to fill out. Oh yes, you would will need to initial and sign that form, but you needn't worry, I will have it highlighted ... then it'll be easy on the eyes, okay. Bye doc.
Dr. Doom: I'm a doctor, not a duck ... AHH!