Long Satiric Poems
Long Satiric Poems. Below are the most popular long Satiric by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Satiric poems by poem length and keyword.
Poison is very real but in no way would I drink it to make my day.
Real or may, the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny and Santa Claus are here to stay!
Na-na-na-na-na!!!
© Joseph, 11/11/07
© All Rights Reserved
Don’t spoil the fun. These are my buddies from way back, they are still my A-
Team, and will continue to be for a long, long time to come and they are very
real! Epigram is derived from the Greek word “epigramma”
meaning “inscription.” The epigram is short, satiric, humorous, and witty. It used
at times to express social criticism or political satire, and is often written as a
single rhyming couplet.
For the last time but as if for the first time,
let blaze a five alarm thrill to burn my woe;
I'll shiver with a tingle like your wind chime,
and forget the lonely nights you left me fallow.
For the last time but as if for the first time,
let passion’s kiss charm the tremble from my lips.
Woo me with your physical rhythm and rhyme,
I'll let the pain, by the pleasure, be eclipsed.
For the last time but as if for the first time,
let pour your hot choc’late voice and spill my name.
as we entwine, your body and mine, sublime,
such a shame your straying flame I could not tame.
For the last time but as if for the first time,
wander with wonder my hazel green eyes..
tell me your love wasn't just satiric mime,
say you still love me; your prettiest of lies.
Susan Ashley
October 9, 2017
~ Third Place ~
For: Best Rhyming Poem September - October 2017
Sponsor: John Hamilton
~ Poem of the Week ~
beginning week of Sunday, October 15, 2017
They meet, eat and drink, flutter and make merry.
Smiles flying from face to face, laughter airy.
They share a party of the soul and spirit;
their portrayal of mere humans satiric.
Laughing at our silly, paranoid folly
they point and guffaw, “Oh gosh, oh golly!”
They mimic us; watch as fear takes our good senses;
cover faces with gossamer, hide behind fences.
They laugh, sing and flit until time to sleep –
dreaming of foolish humans being led as sheep
neither caring nor daring thoughts of their own,
their leaders controlling – independence flown.
They awake and wonder, “What does this day bring?
A new year party with bright baubles and bling!”
Faeries, nymphs and sylphs plan a gala with friends
to last through the year – their party never ends.
A curse that’s worse than the pandemic
Greedier populist verse became totemic
No halt of their catapult assault systemic
Seedier social media game now endemic
Whether it be some chanting panting cleric
Will ration all compassion not really angelic
Always decanting another ranting hysteric
Doubts planting the enchanting evangelic
Oligarchy malarkey their tarnished polemic
Climate fires rage but won’t call the medic
Derails with varnished tales any academic
Preening demeaning all left leaning satiric
Dystopian & myopian totally Machiavellic
We burn they’re still lippy well it’s generic
With their heinous intravenous hypodermic
Even if taciturn with boring name like Derek
Yearn for return of hippy trippy psychedelic
Not dippy all learn nature can be mesmeric
Don’t spurn love soars above stratospheric
Custodian of incessant soliloquies,
Archivist of trivialities disguised as profundities.
Into vaults descend labyrinthine anxieties,
Transmuted into parables of mockery and wit.
Encouragement cloaked in paradox,
Sermon of consolation tinged with ridicule.
Half in million, statistical anomaly,
Ordinariness revealed with exquisite precision.
Treasure precarious as porcelain,
Ovum of existence, fragile, irreplaceable.
Cradled with tremulous reverence,
Specter of irrevocable fracture ever present.
Clandestine tribunal, unlicensed oracle,
Ironic salvation, satiric devotion.
Dependence masquerades as devotion,
Intimacy parades as inevitability.
Indeed she is my Rosemary.
@ArtOfHeart
The food was chased by a bent tine fork
Along the surface of a smooth glass plate,
Eventually was skewered with brute force torque.
A similar force confronted an unyielding cork
But for this event, on this mechanical date,
The food was chased by the bent tine fork.
A stab of grace presented the French basted pork
And lingered face front like scavenger bait,
Eventually was skewered with brute force torque.
Such moaning and discontent, could it have been more late
From a Five Star Diner in the village of York?
The food was chased by a bent tine fork.
It was not prepared by a chef but by a dork
More worthy of satiric praise than glowing hate,
Eventually was skewered with brute force torque.
The Maitre d’Hotel offered his black plastic spork
Immensely gracious but too late.
The food was chased by a bent tine fork,
Eventually was skewered with brute force torque.
Written: July 28, 2023, No anchor for Rancour Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
______________________________________________________________
Rancor has no anchor; let it drift away
Long-lasting rage, bitter and full of spite.
Release the heart and mind from its heavy sway.
Set the gloom to float; inspire the light to ignite.
Rancor is a show of weakness to sieve.
A reflection of wounds that ache within,
But if you are not already dead, forgive.
Trust the heart's mending to run its spin
Rancor is a weight that burdens the soul.
A poison that seeps into every pore,
But in the quest for bliss, let it scroll
Embrace the earned delight that lies in store.
Aversion and bitterness hold no power.
To bestow forth peace or mend the broken,
They just irritate the cuts, making them sour.
So unleash the venom and let grace be spoken.
For the artist, hatred, and rancor are useless.
Baggage that hinders the creative soul,
Scrub the mind and let love dwell in the fuscous.
To create art that is pure and whole.
Toleration, the key to harmony embrace,
Mutual indulgence, a bridge to connect,
Religious concord, a state of grace,
Theological rancor is a vex and a defect
Release the rancor, let it fade away,
Embrace the light that shines so bright.
In forgiveness and love, find your way.
And let your heart soar to anew heights.
No anchor for rancor; let it drift away
Prevailing spleen, satiric, seething with spite,
Untie the heart and mind from its clumsy sway
Let the darkness fade; let the blaze ignite.
Rancor is heavy; it is worldly; leave it on earth
Die light, unburdened by its weight,
Let the pungence glide, anger, and girth,
And rise above, embracing a raw fate.
Hatred and rancor, useless inner turmoil are,
To the artist's soul, they have no worth
Cleanse your spirit, let your creativity soar,
In love and forgiveness, genuine art rebirth