Long Sample Poems

Long Sample Poems. Below are the most popular long Sample by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sample poems by poem length and keyword.


Eminem Protege 2

Eminem Protege 2

Don't care what you think
 I need Ten Shrinks an Ten Pens Full Of Ink
 To Let my Inner Wisdom Tink
 Colder Than Ten Penguins In A Rink
 My Spirit Fitness & Physique at it's Peak 
Adrenaline Obese 
Extinguished to Concrete
 Out the Pyramids Extinct 
Into this Physical Dimension as A Sphinx 
Face of a Beast of a Lynx
 Idiot Beliefs placing limited reach 
on my limitless fatigue 
My Old Image Obsolete
 I stole Potion from Ten Witches An Ten Wishes
 from Ten Genies an Ancient Magicians
 an Buried the lamps in the Ditches
 while I summoned Ten Fighting Spirits
 of Venegance as My Apprentices
 I Opened my Sealed Syllabus
 to Reveal my Ventriloquists 
Just left Hells Kitchen with Skin Itching 
with Skin Blisters open Skin Pigments
 Stealing Lucifers Instruments
 to Use them Against Him 
To appear as Glitches
 against the System
 I cook Hot Meals with Mittens 
an make him taste the Illness 
I'm Inventing
 But only an Sample for Interest
 for His Taste Senses
 cause Hells angels can Sensor the Sizzling
 I'm Fly like Ten Twin Pigeons
 with Eagles Precision
 I'm a Scientist but I ain't writing Science Fiction 
with Knowledge that would leave Einstein Winded
 I been Fighting for Living 
100 percent Percentage
 an no less than a Percent difference
 Still Power in my Engine
 to keep the Ignition Driven
 You can't Compare to these Rare Characteristics
 the Judgements from your Conscious 
is InTolerant to my Unresponsive
 Mental Doctrines 
Im use to Antagonist 
Real Hebrew who's a Zionist
 False Prophets who Diabolic an Jewish
 Judaism Created with Iron Fist
 in A Luciferian Science
 of Enlightenment 
Jewish Hybrids Of Pirates
 Stolen Israels Environment
 I ain't Racist
 Just apart of a Nation
 Created
Created Generations to Generations 
Heritage Invaded
 an Culture Undertaken
 Perpetrated
 by The Synagogue of Satanist 
my fire been Penetrated
 the fire in the eye of the Tiger formulated
 stripes on the tiger Blazing
 I'm Judahs Inspiration
 an Judas Envy Craving
 But I'm not Babylons Patriot
 Bablyonion Doom Waiting
 Doomsday
 when the Moon Change
 The Wolf Rage 
Waging Spiritual Shade
 against Ravenous Wolves in Sheeps Wools
 is Game
 Sharpened Tools 
my Sword is Shaped 
Cut open the Wolves
 an Bathe in the Pool 
of Blood til It's Drained 
I'm a Prophet in the Apocalypse


Premium Member The Elder

The little one came and asked the elder
How did things come to be?
The elder answered in abstract
A truth for all to see

It didn't happen all at once, but over many years
It happened with joy, laughter, and many silent tears
Like death from a thousand cuts, we just didn't want it to be real
Now all we have left, is just a bad deal

Its not that we didn't know, about the moments of despair
Its not that we didn't care, about the sordid affair
We just saw problems bigger than the sky and thought, who would dare?
And thus became a world that wasn't fair

We thought if its not us, maybe its not so bad
We can just enjoy our entertainment, and be plenty glad
And that's how it began, at least our part anyway
Even after so much has happened, we still have so little to say


The little one sat and asked the elder
Why did we do these things?
The elder answered in abstract
A sample of our selfish dreams

We did it because it felt good
Better than being good to ourselves
Better than loving thy neighbor
Better than the highest health

We called lies little, when they are quite big
Marking the beginning of our disgrace
We treated our future like it was a blooper
Without ever willing to embrace

We covered up truth with makeup and masks
Now we are the ones defaced
Our religion became follows and likes 
And so we lost our faith


The little one stood and asked the elder
What can we do now?
The elder answered in abstract
With a head heavily bowed

The one thing that is our purpose
We no longer do
Because we look up atop our ivory towers
And only see a zoo

We believe that one can affect change
As long as its not us
So the answer to your question
Is to once again practice love

Have the conversations that create community
Not just for our favorite friends
Overcome our bias and impunity
And false prophets will come to end


The little one turned and asked the elder
Will you tell them I left?
The Elder answered in abstract
As a smile touched his breath

I will tell the story of the one
Who decided to be changed
And became the foundation
For this story to be reframed

When they come and ask
Where did the future go?
I will tell them the past only hopes 
For the future to grow

That if we seek the future
We must put in the work
That we can move forward
Only when we acknowledge the hurt
© Tahj Jones  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Moonbee's Sci Fi - Bar Jokes and Riddles

" Sci-Fi Bar Jokes & Riddles ... "

( 1 Tim. 1: 11)

(1.)
"Star Wars Bar ..."

A Jedi Knight and a Wookie, walk into a bar ...
The Jedi tells the bartender to keep the drinks coming.
Around dawn, when the Jedi is too drunk to think,
the bartender, then tells them both, its time to pay
their tab.  Then the Jedi, turns to his buddy, the Wookie 
and asks, "Do You Mind?"
  
------- ------- ------ -------

(2)
"Dune's Sand Bar ..."

On Arrakis, the desert planet known as Dune,
A Duke and a Baron, walks into a bar ...
Now, which one orders the biggest bottle of Mezcal?

-------  ------  -------  -------

(3)
"The Matrix-Mixer Bar ..."

Neo and Morpheus, walk into a bar ...
On that night, every patron, gets their first drink free
Now, the selection is between two drink choices on 
the list: They can choose either the 'Crimson Cocktail'
or the 'Blue Kamikaze' ... Which did Neo pick?

-------  -------  -------  ------

(4)
"Stargate Symbol Bar ..."

Col. O'Neill and Teal'c, walk into the Stargate
and wine-up in a bar (he-he) ... in a world
very much like our own. While there, they
socialize with the locals, sample strange brews
and get very intoxicated.  However, not to worry,
on this world, the bartender is used to visitors
who can't handle the native liquors ... So, 
the bar has their own taxi, on standby 
for such occasions.  So he dials the cab.
But before the cabdriver comes, the taxi
has to be gased up. The question is: 

"What gas station does he use?"

-------  -------  -------  -------

(5)
"Barsoom/Mars' Whiskey Bar ..."

A Thern and a Thark, walk into a bar ...
They join John Carter, who was drinking Cutty Sark
and a Martini.  Also there, is The Princess, who
sips on deja-blue water and a shot of Royal Crown.
The Thern, gives his order for a glass of Jameson & Gin

And the Thark, orders: Jim Bean and Jack Daniels
... and a Bourbon  ... and a Beer

-------  -------  -------  -------

(6)
"Star Trek's Hit The Deck"

As They Journey Into Darkness & Each Distant Star
Kirk & Spock Walks Into The Enterprize's Bar
And Tho' The Ship May Shake & Warp-Drive-Drop
Mr. Spock Keeps As Cool As A Glass of Ciroc
And Captain Kirk, Just Orders A Scotch On The Rocks
('Cause Scotty Takes Care of All The Enterprize's Stock)

	
-------  -------  -------  -------

Poem/Jokes by: MoonBee
Form:

Dumbfoundedness Still Prevails Three Weeks Later

Dumbfoundedness still prevails three weeks later...
when held spellbound courtesy grifter

Flim-flam man left lasting emotional whiplash
his derelict perfected artifice
to hijack every last cent
smarted me with indelible smash;
living daylight delivered I kidney you not
envious affliction affecting
last named member and founder of the Byrds
with crosby, stills, young and nash
entire corporeal being turned to hash
condemned state yours truly relegated,
cuz cremation unaffordable, though pulverized
and transformed into powdery ash;

Impossible mission to conceptualize
transmutation into cremains, the brain
lodged within me noggin
ill equipped to envision mine gray matter
even after asking mister Google to explain
that cremation takes place
in a specially designed furnace,
referred to as a cremation chamber or retort,
and exposed to extreme temperatures –
up to 1,800 degrees Fahrenheit–
leaving behind only ashes.

Following the procedure,
a cooling period required
before the remains can be handled.

Yours truly can best attest,
when succumbing as victim to virtual heist
I most likely flip flopped
into one percent atavistic Neanderthal state;
a surprising revelation
23andme genotyping results
yielded said presence of proto human
after analyzing DNA
courtesy saliva sample from eldest sister.

No other logical satisfactory explanation doth chime
lapsed consciousness, hence reasonable rhyme
whereat one twenty first century mortal man
virtually travelled in time
cast into nasty, shortish brute
obliging deft inducement
outsourcing valuable dough.

Though aforementioned far-fetched notion
smacks of high skepticism,
yet no more ridiculous than
hominids over bajillion years springing forth
from flotsam and jetsam in the ocean
I may as well broach another theory of creation
(just came to my mind),
that divine omnipotent wizard
sprinkled magic potion
across primordial sea
after watching an advertisement promotion
claiming said product
contained the seeds of life and white lily.

Convinced that snake oil salesman
wrought deleterious influence
triggering a debacle that rocked
the financial market,
(albeit constituting one singular naked ape),
an attorney general based in Philadelphia
believes I presented a convincing case,
which hopefully witnesses
recouping all or most of my funds.
Form: Rhyme

Resurrection

(Chorus)
You think you've got swagger but really you hobble,
you've got the jet lagger and you're drunk so you wobble,
don't start on me mate 'cus I will bring trouble,
to put it into slang words I'm Barney Rubble.

(Verse)
I will ruffle trouble 
'cus I'm on another level
that bombs with the base 
and stings with the treble,
I'll strut face to face with any ace rebel,
and put them in their place with their constant bull.

When I rhyme with my contortionist wrist
it expels a mist that sits around my fist,
I spell magic out on paper,
I'm playing with danger,
Mr. Wizardry the word selectionist,
squiggling fiction at speeds that feed friction
into rhymes that are non stop hot and cool, 
so flames don't flame on the table top,
journey with me to witness the plot,
the earth shaker creator of perfected hip hop,
starting revolutions so that mumble is forgot,
dislodging the rust and rot it coughs that clots
and instating my Barney Rubble at the top. 

(Chorus x2)

(Verse)
That last verse was just a small handful,
a sample of something that you cannot handle,
a scan like a bar code,
so lets open up the road and I'll unload these words,
I can't conceal this skill that rolls like wheels,
a Rolls Royce wearing heels,
in fancy halls doing dancing drills,
with golden walls 
to an old skool beat treat.
I wont get signed up by any record label,
but I'm still rhyming better than mumble's able,
just admit you're tapping your feet to the beat
while my rhyme sits on top solid like concrete,
with the dancefloor crammed full,
they're pulling at all angles,
making the memories 
that'll last 'til they're O A P's,
they think they've got swagger 
and they're like Mick Jagger,
they're more like Sepp Blatter
but a little bit fatter.

(Chorus x2)

(Verse)
You can call me Trimendous and true,
you thought I'd flew crashed and was screwed,
but I took it back to what inspired my act,
an old skool hip hop sick rhyme attack,
I rhymed in flight with this write
and its smile's wild with sublime delight,
there are no poetic rare words 
and I don't need swear words
in this dictionary spared verse
with airstream rhythm you can't burst,
I'm wearing this deserved set of words
that pilots and surges to my re-emergence,
a certainty that was never urgent
and not an encore from behind the curtains.

(Chorus x2)
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


I Can Hear Your Voice In My Heart 1/2 Kawaali 01

Kawaali or Kawali  ( A form of Singing very popular in India and Pakistan )

SAMPLE OF A KAWAALI - ONE CAN HEAR ON U TUBE http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rNYwneo08xQ&p=12E509C60B2AAEC7&playnext=1&index=70



I Can Hear your Voice In My Heart  Part  1/2     ( More details on my first Blog )


By a Male Singer or a  Group of Singers 
The singer is trying to please his lover by these beautiful words-

Kawaali or the singing starts from here:


01

'I can hear the voices of your appearance,
On the musical strings  of my heart,
Only a touch would play its music, 
Such is the fascination of your art'.


01
Reply  By a Female Singer or a Group of Singers 
The female singer is trying to reply her strange  lover –


'You say that I have created music, on the strings of your  heart,
But you throw your precious heart on every one, what to say of me,
And you repeat the same story, with every new face you come across,
Telling her with all the drama that only she has stolen your  heart'.


02
Another plea By a Male Singer or  a Group of Singers 

'My heart has gone beyond the control of me,
Such is the graceful enchants of your youth,
Your movements create dazzling lightening,
You say this is just the beauty of your grace'.


02
Reply   By a Female Singer or a  Group of Singers  

'How, when you are not in control of your heart, you say, it is only for me,
Feeling the lightening even in my movements, you sing a song in praise of me,
Your heart repeats the same story, feeling the grace and beauty in every face new,
These are only your sweet excuses, to mould a heart and to weave a story'.


03
Another plea By a Male Singer or a  Group of Singers 

'What you call the simplicity of your beauty,
The world is dying on it, to sacrifice anything.
It may be a beautiful Adaa* or grace for you, 
But, its a thing of existence and life and death for me'.

03
By a Female Singer or a  Group of Singers

'Sometimes you talk to die on my simplicity,
Sometimes you talk about the splendors of my beauty,
Proclaiming to die on my splendors and simplicity,
You wish to encroach,  even in my dreams, O stranger'. 

Ravindra 
Kanpur India  9th October 2010               to be concluded in part II

*Adaa- a Urdu word means  charm, grace, coquetry
* Husna*or Husn is a  Urdu word means -  beauty, elegance
Form: Rhyme

The Shape-Shifting Cowboy, Part Ii

“You've probably figured it out by now,
I am not really a human being,
my home is three whole galaxies away,
and the form that you now are seeing

“is due to the fact that my species can
sample and replicate strange DNA,
but every few weeks I have to recharge,
I'm sorry that you saw me that way.

“This image once belonged to an old man,
I touched his corpse at a funeral home,
didn't want to copy one of the living,
so I adopted his form as my own.

“I made myself look like his young self though,
felt it would be easier to fit it,
and in this form, I feel all that men do,
I know it's enough to make your head spin...”

Jenna just gasped, her mind still was reeling,
Calvin said,”Come on babe, please talk to me.”
Jenna shook her head,”How...what? No...how...why?
What you're saying...it just cannot be!”

Calvin nodded sadly,”Yes dear, it is,
but if you give me a chance to explain,
I think you'll see we're not so different,
that what drives me is a common refrain.

“You see though my people can change their shape,
most of them feel a strong need to conform,
it's even written into their own genes,
go-along-to-get-along, it's the norm.

“But I'm a genetic aberration,
excessive individual traits,
one-in-a-thousand, they lock us away,
put us down as a dangerous mistake.

“I knew once they figured what I really was
they would all be coming for my head,
rather than wait to be jailed or cut down
I stole myself a spaceship and I fled.

“I wandered the stars for three hundred years,
where I could live freely, anywhere,
but there's little life in the universe,
and intelligence is incredibly rare.

“I search to other whole galaxies,
found sentient life on time within each,
both were as tyrannical as my home,
fear no safe-haven would I ever reach.

“And when I came here to the Milky Way,
I admit I was running out of hope,
this galaxy hes less life than others,
despite the vastness of size and of scope.

“But then in a backwater spiral arm
I stumbled upon radio transmissions,
traced them back to their source, this planet,
and found a world that was truly a vision.

“I'd never seen so much life on one world,
and a species just entering space...
I landed in the ocean near Long Island,
I just had to go explore the place...

CONTINUES IN PART III.

Big Ego

He's got a big ego,
he keeps offending people,
he scoops the same scoop,
and round and round we loop,
until the bubble pops
and the world sees him flop,
reject the rude,
deflate your ego,
swearing kills the mood,
you able?

I'm getting too cocky,
I could outbox Ali,
wrestle with The Rock
reach the top and stop and mock,
ego full of stock
forget the tick tock
because I'm 24 7
until I get into heaven,
insomnia beckons
and amnesia threatens,
bend rhymes like Beckham,
dunk punks like Jordan,
the mental perfection
with its rhyme injection,
about to live the lesson 
of the ego outstretchin'
the limit it can flex,
the crux, the critical,
I rhyme the old skool
and wear hip hop shoes,
I hate the mumble flop
with the words unused,
it's just ear abuse,
on the loose,
with no use,
it's noise with no excuse.

I suspect that this project
will impact and inflict,
sick tricks, and then retract
and evaporate back
to the gods intact,
before it's redirected
to another level head,
who wrecks and blows it,
crash the car, 
went too far,
you go from feeling cool,
to a sample of your stool,
that big head 
now gone and the face left red,
baking big mistakes,
taking punches from a heavyweight,
David doesn't always beat Goliath,
cometh the hour,
cometh the coffin,
you can't stimulate with coffee
because the heart stopped beating,
the soul is set free
and this world you're leaving,
beaten down with ease,
lying dead and bleeding,
how's that big ego?
You still offending people?

One hand holds but the other can't reach,
near rhymes aren't real rhymes
and sand doesn't mean a beach,
but if you find the flow,
find a way to wined the cable,
then transmit clear and stable,
and accurate like a machete
you'll rhyme like a line of spaghetti,
but with deadwood on your lead 
and at ease in your bed head,
because it feels so easy with an ego, 
then know it wont make a good show,
so put your feet on the ground
be aware of how the words sound,
leave behind the prima donna 
or become another gonna,
stop the passive aggression,
or accept a massive regression,
fill your minds storage with knowledge
beyond the college,
there's always more to learn
and more wood to burn,
big heads remove themselves
when they burn their own shelves.
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric

The Yowah Addiction

Midst the mulga and the gidyea out beyond the old Paroo 
runs a road which leads to Yowah and a great place it is too. 
Where the populace is smitten by an urge they can’t withstand: 
Its the lust to find the queen of gems, beneath a timeless land. 
 
With her tantalising beauty and her taunting, twinkling eyes, 
Its the radiance of this desert child her lovers highly prize. 
Suitors come from every walk of life, from countries quite diverse 
and she keeps them courting tirelessly exacting quite a purse. 
 
And the charm of her charisma casts a spell they can’t escape, 
so they’ve built a little township there amid that red landscape. 
Quite relentless is their quest to toil,  a constant ritual, 
and they love their leisure moments like their Opal Festival. 
 
Chris and I were asked to join them and present our bush verse show 
through the festival proceedings and replied, “We’d love to go.” 
First we entertained the children at the school there for a spell 
then our host, Gwen Burney, took us for a tour that went down well. 
 
We were shown the local opal fields and dug for Yowah nuts, 
then we lunched and watched some golfers sink some rather dubious putts. 
But the opal bug had bitten and we sought a licence out, 
for we planned to do some noodling or at least just poke about. 
 
But the torture of the digging with just handpicks proved too tough 
and we chucked the towel in quickly as we’d simply had enough. 
Down in spirits we decided to search out the mulberry wine 
there at Roy’s, not far from Gwen’s place, which was said to be real fine. 
 
After scoffing down a sample we were feeling mighty good 
and old Roy was sympathetic to our plight and understood. 
He produced a bar and shovel and a bottle of his brew, 
then we headed back to noodle with our outlook all anew. 

Well we dug and sipped and dug and sipped, oblivious to pain 
and the next two days we carried on and did it all again. 
We were up each morning early and sat cracking all our nuts, 
though our hands were full of blisters and a mass of little cuts.  
 
We were both now surely smitten and could not resist her will, 
for the bug had surely bitten and we talk about it still. 
Yes, its tantalizing colour and its taunting texture’s fine   
and we’re flamin' well addicted to Roy’s home-made mulberry wine.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Slice of Cake


Ever been treated like you’re a slice of cake?
By the kind of sleazy men that slither like a  snake?
They’re not the type to give
They’re the kind that always take.
Know your worth, be strong, pay attention, stay awake.

This is what I say to men who think they are so slick.
“I’m a lady, not a hoe, a slice, a treat, a chick.
Go away, get lost, quit acting like a trick.
I'm not the one to buy your lines that you spread on so thick.

I’m not some fresh baked cake that you can get a slice.
I’m not some frosting that you can sample anytime you like.
Even though you talk sweet, I know you’re nothing nice.
Play with fire and get burned, Cheat and pay the price.

You say I’m pretty and I’m sweet
That I look good enough to eat
You haven't tried to hide your lust
You haven't tried to be discreet.

Oh?!?  a little bit this
And a little bit of that?
A generic compliment here...
Predictable flattery there?
A married man with an appetite
A piece of me, a taste, a bite

You talk about warm biscuits
Parted and buttered
As you stare at me.
You say I'm a hot dish
But don't you mean a side item?
Fast food?
In and out burger?
Did I offer myself...
Coffee, tea, me?
You want a dining experience
But this ain't Burger King!
You can't have it your way
I'm not a drive through
I'm not an order you grab to go
You can't stuff me in your mouth 
Then burp out loud
Little pieces of me flying out
as you go about your day.

Why eat out? 
That’s not what marriage is all about
Your spouse should be the only meal
A balanced dinner, that’s the deal
In the privacy of your home
But still you’re on the prowl and roam.
You say you only want a slice
And take no thought about my life.

You eat, wipe your mouth
Then say you've done no wrong.
But you're selfish and self-centered
That’s why I must be strong.
I’m not your food, set on a tray
Prepared for you to go filet
I’m not a snack that you can taste
Half consumed then left to waste.

Sugar-coated, insincere
Across the room you drool and leer.
You’re hungry, and you think I’m food
Weren’t you raised to know that’s rude?

I think the messqge here is clear
Im not a woman to be feared
I only ask you for respect
Or keep on going and forget

I hope one day you understand
© Mona Ebel  Create an image from this poem.

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