Long Rhymes Poems
Long Rhymes Poems. Below are the most popular long Rhymes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rhymes poems by poem length and keyword.
After what has occurred...not for the absurd herds who truths have blurred & turds have stirred but for the nerds who once heard purred...
When things addle & are oh so bleak
Trump in the saddle havoc will wreak
Chagrin at mandarin a tangerine freak
Will straddle the raddled.. no mystique
Without a paddle in a proverbial creek
Quips make the pips of weak squeak
A foolish clique who damnation seek
Monstrosity such animosity at the meek
Avaricious & pernicious ghoulish streak
Pomposity of atrocity bare faced cheek
The velocity and the ferocity does reek
Mother nature’s fears she does shriek
Lachrymosity at sneers her tears leak
Boasts from fossil fuel ghosts still speak
On her death bed the hosts posts creak
Any generosity our curiosity does pique
Consideration of others makes us unique
Veneration of a tried & tested technique
Approbation for appreciation we can eke
Will freely admit that I am a bit of geek
Ardour for a lexicon larder I can tweak
Another peek tinker changes do sneak
Armada of rhymes for times so oblique
Are these poetic crimes need a critique
On a whim send to a hack at their peak
Bloke with bespoke flair a chic boutique
Tim with rare warmth of a teak antique
Love your vim cheers you made my week
p.s It's outrageous as the earth does bleed to be freed must be courageous plead we maybe vexatious but need to be tenacious fight each sh*te jibe from Trump the chump's mendacious & rapacious diatribe... ta muchly to the gracious & vivacious Tim Hayward our sagacious & loquacious scribe who indeed does sow the seed to feed our good greed with his bodacious even salacious vibe & creed.. the go to for our voracious & audacious tribe...a breed who just love to imbibe..(don't be so cynical there's no bribe...me being veracious so use your swede.. pay heed make sure you read & subscribe)
thought as poetry
past present future surreal
pure expressions cure
deific communing in time
softly breath stitches rare rhymes
stillness turns wheel feel
creating cosmic garlands
recognise lyrics
emotions eclectic ebbs
awakens colourful dreams
mirror reflections
nouns verbs adjectives adverbs
ether air worded
fire water earth stanzas
carries stories converses
stimulates seconds
fathoms then embraces faith
promotes perfect peace
forms galore eastern western
feeding fertility flames
intrinsic to life
advances awareness awed
forge fraternity
transmuting darkness to art
wisdom deepens liberty
_______________________
PLACED 4Th : STANDARD CONTEST
ON TANKA STRINGS
“In lieu of flowers”, the obituary read, “please donate to a worthy cause.”
But when I thought about how she loved her garden, I really had to take a moment
and pause.
I know her daughters meant no harm, they just didn’t want to deal with the mess;
Having just flown in from out of town, solely to put their poor mother to rest.
But throughout the years I watched that dear labor in her garden all day;
More than once or twice my house was blessed with the fragrance from one of her
bouquets.
“In lieu of flowers” – are you kidding me!
“In lieu of flowers” – yeah, just wait and see.
Her daughters arrived at the funeral home, not really expecting much of a crowd;
I walked right in and introduced myself, probably talking a bit too loud.
“I’m your mother’s neighbor, the eligible bachelor; she may have mentioned my
name.
She loved to tell me about you two – too bad you never came.”
About that time the truck arrived and they started unloading the back;
Flowers and wreaths of every kind in every imaginable color but black.
“Oh goodness sake!”
“What’s all this!”
“And where did they all come from?!”
“Oh don’t worry girls – they’re all from me. And, they’re for your wonderful Mom.”
That funeral home was overflowing, with roses and pansies and mums;
Tulips and daisies; carnations and lilies; orchids of every kind.
There were snapdragons, Mona Lisas and delphinium;
Dianthus, lisianthus and mathiola amongst them.
The girls were shocked, that was plain to see,
They didn’t know what to do,
But their mother was happy,
Smiling down on me,
That much I know is true.
By Joe Flach for the "Flowers" contest.
Okay, so it's a free verse that rhymes, I didn't mean to make it rhyme, it just sort of happened that way!
Tater's and beer
In another privileged day of excitement
Look at me, friend, a belch has the sense to appear
Like a spit in a tube, with a reason to rube, I know a foolish hickey to relent
Like a child of the stars, the poise of uncertainty
Has become ours, to let a swallow of many and might
Become the secret of misery no one is saying, publicly...?
What the hell rhymes with muscles and care, if I do it myself up right?
A mouse wanders by, daring us to catch itself in a trap
Wow, it says, the misery I notice and due, is a little vague...
Suppose the danger of me and reality is for any and all, a hosting crap
That seems to be taters and beers, having a good time at my imagination's rage?
I don't know me or the world anymore,
I'm sure I'm unsure as I search for a cure.
I look for a reason to fight,
I've lost my bark,
I've lost my bite,
I can't see the dark,
I can't see the light.
I've got nothing to live for, nothing at all,
there is no wall, no floor, it's just me in freefall.
There's no pill that'll heal this feeling I feel
and nothing can conceal this feeling so rotten,
I swear falling like this is really rock bottom.
There's no stop to this drop,
unless I top myself and slot
into the floor and live in a coffin.
A year ago today I'd only wrote one poem,
now look at the flow and the skill that I'm showing,
my own unknown talent which I have now grown,
went from dormant to the forefront, I'm so in the zone.
On the day of the crux when I could of collapsed,
I opened a door never opened before,
and found some new tracks and to them I strapped,
there was no going back from a light I had found,
my bite came back and my bark made sound,
there were walls and floors, I stood tall and warred,
now I'm a poet and I show it to the world.
From never even being interested,
to rhymes that are easily digested,
I went to that place to get to this one
and out of nothing rhyme is the outcome.
POTD 14/09/2018
Dedicated to Kyle, My Darling Son
A kaleidoscope’s blossoms are not as awesome
as my child at every turn; watching his silences –
I burn, watching his movements – I yearn.
I learn love's wonderment watching him discern.
Toddler-boy loves me content with innocence and joy.
I shout for time to slow its capture of my boy.
Give me endless days and countless ways
to watch my miracle grow. Sunshine, moon glow,
build him a perfect rainbow so that he may know
the wonder of the love I try so hard to show.
Loyal, gentle pets
give love deep set
and when they die
I full pay grief's debt.
Friends are the prose
inspiring my rhymes.
Each would be missed
by this heart of mine.
When parents and siblings
expel their final breath,
I will mourn them
until my own day of death.
If my husband
should before me die,
my soul would cry
float adrift and dry.
But should my babe at any age
pass first in death’s grasp,
defeat would set a fatal stage
for my heart's final crash.
"Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed
But then begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when body's work's expired:
For then my thoughts keep my drooping eyelids open wide."
~ Shakespeare's Sonnet 27
Often, when my body craves nothing more than sleep
my mind wanders in gardens where thoughts take root.
I ponder why the fervor of poetic ideas flicker and seep
into my psyche as if I must follow the Pied Piper's flute.
I cannot stifle the waterfall's cascading inspirations
for the palpitations of my pulse cannot staunch the flow.
A chorus of whispered voices begs me to take notations,
not to be forgotten before dawn's pink skies begin to glow.
I've failed to silence the visitors with burgeoning verses.
Their Sonnet seeds are planted with end rhymes in a row.
There's no ignoring their demands with my abusive curses.
I wonder how I might convince them to be quiet and go.
Once, I tried counting sheep, but I heard fairytale lines
drifting over a fence in my head, and meowing of a cat.
I tried to drown them out with music but in the confines
of my sleepy mind, lyrics came flying at me like a bat!
I'm not amused when my muse tells me I'm being lazy.
On reflection, I must speculate that she's the instigator.
I tell her to go away. I can't write when my mind is hazy.
She mumbles words I cannot hear. Why do I tolerate her?
I've given this bane, this insane lack of sleep some thought
Usually, I refuse to give in to ponderings and stay in bed.
Battle lines were drawn, and though vigilantly I have fought,
if I'm to sleep, I will surrender and write what's in my head.
What mystery binds his poesy,
what purpose is behind his art:
to pose, “To be, or not to be?”
confronts the self-reflecting heart?
What destiny has this poet,
what future prospects wait for him,
when his words pretend to know it,
but the skeptics won't explore them?
Truth's cryptic message hides in rhymes,
chameleon-like, and spreads as memes,
disguised, rewritten several times,
to fit his coded, programmed themes.
The Enigma of this poesy's rhyme,
and process, meant for the clever mind,
to search their inmost, heartfelt clime,
to peel back the puzzle's layered rind.
Form:
Walking along life’s crooked gardened paths
Becomes more meaningful with time;
First early steps to follow butterflies
In bright sun with cheers to make rhymes
Touching soft pink flowers feels heavenly
Pink shoes; pink ice cream; pink dresses;
Feeling “pink” is great along childhood’s path
Little girls with bows in tresses
Young boys prefer blue on pathway’s palette
Various shades on trucks and sky
While wild animals roam imaginations
This blue pathway soon passes by
Today, I think about these pathways of life—
The blacks and reds of self expression
Those paths wandered into bright new frontiers
Where friends shared deepest confessions
Now I am on a path of reality
One previously untraveled
Self-made dreams begin to fall all around
Health-related thoughts unraveled
Let pink Roses and blue Wisteria
Border this path with white Hyacinth;
As unfamiliar weeds crowd this pathway—
Meandering through new labyrinth
MASON MOUNT (MM10)
Mason in the middle,
Fast mo' as a fiddle,
like flashy speed of an eagle,
As sharp on the field like a needle,
making dem fans scream and giggle,
hater's tongue wag with no briddle,
the talk of a legend is just a riddle,
Yet, legendary path this boy saddle.
Mas makes many more mouth mingle,
beats opponents like they're for the taking,
Blue superstar in the making,
monstrous matches & memories Mas makes,
Mason mounting meltingly on my muse poetics.
Make some noise for "Mason The Mounatic".
Form: Sonnet & Rhymes
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © December 22nd, 2020.
#OnTheSpotPoetry #PoetKing #PoetSkills #Alliterations #football #chelseafc #player #vickmanuelpoetry #VMP ????? #masonmount10 CHELSEA FC.