Long Scrabbled Poems

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


2022 Polar Vortex Across Wide Band of North America

2022 Polar Vortex - Across Wide Band Of North America

Power outage here within 
mine happy hunting grounds 
(as well the ghosts of Lenni Lenape),
viz Perkiomen Valley, Pennsylvania
December twenty third 
two thousand twenty two wrought
(lasting greater part of twelve hours)
impossible mission to keep warm

generating body heat
necessity courtesy three dog night,
sure as I'm sitting here
nevertheless found yours truly
yearning for global warming
while dentures chattered 
a mile a minute then jumped 
out me mouth 

and scrabbled, scrambled 
and scratched along floor
leaving corpse like body abed 
stiff as a board
dead cold analogous, 
when rigor mortis
grips lovely bones 
immune to brutal cold.
  
Ordinarily, the weather
considered non trees
son us, a neutral subject on par
with non nose 
wrinkling odoriferous cheese
usually ranks as minor distraction,
without whether yours truly agrees
or not, except 
during balmy temperatures,
an unavoidable tease,

whereat sub zero degrees,
whether Centigrade or Fahrenheit
demands human sacrifice
(me anima knocking knees),
no negotiating with Ole Man Winter,
he requests (lest 
he continue deep freeze
maelstrom until the end of time),
nothing 'cept a healthy seas
sunned *****sapien to appease

his insatiable appetite
froze to the core,
when all body functions cease,
thus until onset of frostbite disease
transformed me into a human popsicle
obliging surrender of self,
no matter I always minded "p's"
and "q's", and adhered
to selfless decrees
not until that moment - this me's

lee sad excuse e'en for missing link,
said personal radar of this primate
suddenly went haywire madly wheeze
zing, as if giant hand (some
harried styled swiftly tailored
paw) did squeeze
traumatizing, suffocating, mangling
constricting, asphyxiating... sensation
(surprised muss elf, and all my enemies,
hence survived death as a breeze)

when similar to Socrates
ill fate found him downing hemlock,
necessitated, I reluctantly quaffed antifreeze
as preservative, plus 
out of necessity to survive
being clobbered, buffeted,
assaulted...finally please
zing lee melting titanic iceberg
more bearable on par with a sneeze
than compared to frigidity 
of writer's block.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Schizophrenia: A Collaboration with Myself

When I was one and twenty
a moral with a twist ...

They say I am the key
That will unlock the cell
Yet how can I get free
for I’m wrapped up so well

Don’t wrap me or cell me
just give me what THEY want

At first, they say they want to heal me
synonymous with 'heel', you see
rather, they wanted to fix me
like bones being picked by doggies

Puzzled to be taken apart
Scrabbled for letters to impart

I own lost and found cellular
call there again and nevermore

I am the finder's, the loser's
and the weepers, and the keepers 
I am crammed in a vacant space
Can't catch my breath, chasing from mace
I speak, and lost in translation
I'm Brit, spoke French to a Russian
So here I am midst some unknowns
Vultures who'd like to pick my bones
The flower uprooted my weeds
Went skydiving wearing my tweeds
Doctors say that I'm a bit strange
Yet they study me...found that strange

I say I hear and see things
they say it's all in my head
... where else would it be

I passed all their test
reasons I am kept there

They say that I do not give the wrong answers
... just the correct mistakes

They go fishing 
in a fishbowl

I am the hunted inferno
A moving target, home can't go 
I'm out in the world, day and night
Come from the cold, say when I might
A marked calendar, on a wall
What marked calendar, me—that's all

Lamb in want of its lost shepherd
Last seen, eating 'lamb chops', I heard
Wheelchairs and psychiatric knees
Be ike the sounds of rubbing reeds
I'm the hushed one, who makes the noise
I picked one, no girls, and no boys
Who did you pick?  I picked my mom
You did not pick your dad, how come
He's trying to be, sea master 
Can't if the sea's calm forever
The doldrums' subtle current ends
We row till the sails fill with winds
A river does not rise for pleasure ...
Nor does a drowning soul
An eagle soars skies of azure ...
Mouse sans any control

I am a pearl
they lust ...
like a diamond
and rust.

Preoccupation

"PreOccupation"

spiced

cut up poetry
divides 
numbers 

intentional 
drivel moved 
to the side

on a blank page
into neat lines
sucked up

a much loved 
addiction 
novel and short

Pre Occupation 
of all the glossy 
shrouded shrouds

minds spiced
scab picking, their
word salads, tossed

the windbags
blowing braggarts
know-it-alls

blow it all 
cutting the lines
like neat poetry, up

gladiator 
brides 
are us

sucking it 
all up 
like sweet custard

vampire voices 
puck shot
through goal posts

cleansed?
they think they're missed;
I think not

baptised virtuous 
scrabbled 
war torn pilgrims 

the lecherous 
with nothing 
better to do 

watch all 
bride defectors
sign language

look into the mirror

your reflections all
on repeat, the watchers 
all wisened 

move through, 
or move 
through not

they still avidly watch
the time wasting
away 

Pre Occupation
sides and numbers
all blood suckers lost

buried, wearing 
their shrouds
poetry in lines

black and white

cut up neatly
divided 
on a blank page

the sucked up
read all the 
time wasted

lost

(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Halloween approaches Vampires,
suck blood and be 
merry






“The meeting commences in the arena;
Gladiators and space defectors 

In walk the druids and the shock troops
In walk the druids and the shock troops

Ringside seats, bird's eye views
Video cameras only tell the truth
Milliards of youths complacent in the eyes
Of their contemporary sleuths 

Witch-wizards sat on cosmic thrones
The new age crowned all skin and bones
The sacred priestess of Merlin The Mage
Opens the book, she turns the page ...”

...

"Conspiracy of silence
An orgy of peace
They're all here from every sphere
From every planet to shake their spears
Divide the lands of the halls of Pan
Painted warlords in their hordes
Asa kings and obi queens
Step from my skull and live my dreams
(excerpt/”Druids”, Toyah Wilcox, 1982)
Form: Narrative

As Won

A perfect of delight the morning
a brunch for 20 people.
Delicious the word of the day 
Dill, cilantro,garlic, cucumbers
,green onions,lime juice, cream
Cheese, chopped Swiss cheese,
Bacon  and olive oil mixed smooth
Served with watercress 
Cured salmon 
Cured herring
Procuttio 
Toasted garlic bread

Scrabbled eggs
Ribeyed steak steak loaf
With fried onions, mushrooms
Provolone, cream cheese
Peppers, bacon wrapped in
Pastry and served with cheese
Sauce 
For dessert a
Glorious raspberry and strawberry
Pastry tarte with pastry cream
And Carmel pecans

Coffee, sprite and vodka infection


Yottia, Yottia, bleep bomb ooh!
Got me sangin!
Form: Ballade

An Immigrants Tale

We arrived like windblown dirt,
the steamer vomited us out
then wallowed into a smug stillness.

We migrants stood 
to be led somewhere, anywhere
slowly we disembarked, disorganized 
and straggling,
lingering on the dock for leadership,
for welcoming hands,
we were examined, passed through check points,
our crumpled papers stamped
with a smudged and unreadable seal.

Lady liberty with her torch seemed
as green now as our long seasick hopes.
Cops glared at us 
as if we were rotting fish,
a bad catch.
We held hands; heads bowed
ploughed through to the teaming city.

The high windows, narrow passageways,
the overhanging washing
all were threads 
we understood through alien eyes.
Ghettos are the same everywhere.

The people were almost as poor as us,
they had little to share
so we found holes in the walls
scrabbled and scrimped
the way mice do in an empty barn.

Little by little we grew wealthy
others fell sick and died,
a few married well.
Some went to the notorious bad
became powerful enough to prey 
on the weak - even their own. 

Sinners prospered
just as they did in the old world,
nothing original in that, 
we had witnessed it all before.

Now we survive, thrive, 
lead lives of a spirited and rowdy grace,
stare cops in the face, and wink
as if we owned them.

Generally speaking we deplore
all exiles from foreign lands,
we’re comfortable here
and have no room for newcomers,
those that are penniless and brazenly
land at our very door.


Premium Member From The Workship Collection Joe My Belvoed Beau

My parents did not know  

About  Joe 

My beloved beau  

And what the maturing character did  

Making him a heroic paternal twit   

One day with spring in the air  

Did not have a care  

Joe  

My beloved beau 

Visited General Dollar  

Feeling the tightness to the matrimony collar  

Passing through an electronic open door   

Walked the retail floor  

Blue lights suddenly went off  

Everybody around him started to cough  

“Is there a doctor in here?”  

Someone called, swelling a tear  

Joe 

My beloved beau  

Took control  

Acting very bold  

Grabbed a ‘to do list’ pad  

Using a provider pen, the future  Dad  

Scribbled and scrabbled  

Writing, looked like baby babble  

“Did you pick up what you needed?”  

Inside voice greeted  

Little bit of this  

Got a kiss  

Little bit of that  

Bride got fat  

Soon there was a little one  

From a night of gymnastics fun  

Joe  

My beloved beau  

You made me  

The aqua siren shined with glee  

Boy is on the way  

Delivery message did  say  

Pushing the basket  

Not masking it  

Joe  

My beloved beau  

Smiled  

Arriving, ranked and file  

Unloading the necessity pile  

Diapers and stuff  

Child bearing is going to be tough  

Only a few months from now  

No longer looking like a cow  

Two  of us  

Will take the bus  

Pinching pennies a must  

But will come together again  

Then send  

Another take out order  

Requesting a daughter  

Natural in pink  

Schooled in, performing the luring wink  

Creating more  

Patron traffic, visiting the family friendly department store
Form: Rhyme

Scrabbled

“Scrabbled”



I could write a book
about all your dance moves
fire handed on a platter
heart beating like a hammer

a body of work
glanced at nonchalantly
on an open floor
dance cards marked, 

silent deals made
and understood
blind man’s bluff 
toe tapping a sequence

by numbers 
on a floor assisted
instinctually sliding 
in the desultory

golden yeared
in the dusk of setting sun
aces played straight to the kitty
passionatley winsome

words 
she spins
dancing 
across tables

stories lost in the beat
of poetic seduction 
never touching once 
the steps down a strong spine

elusive open palmed
read like a gypsy
down a back of satin
warm fingers reading

sliding down notes 
braille like velvet skin
held in your arms
and turned like a cello

to face you
strings pulled 
john-donned
plucked undone

the heart 
hidden
between 
the legs

the cupid’s bow kissed
a work of pure fiction
mercilessly 
teased

"dance?"

She 
whispers 
in your ear

"your 
scrabbled."

take 
note,

regards
sincere


(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)





“Paralyze My Heart” / Dua Lipa vs. Finger Eleven (mashup)
https://youtu.be/mlYbDA7TkBE


"Miss U Less, See U More" /Faithless
2.0 (Purple Disco Machine Remix)
https://youtu.be/Jp8NXWqvxRE


"Black and Gold" / Sam Sparro
https://youtu.be/eHuebHTD-lY










Man Eating Flower
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/man_eating_flower__1220943


Not De Beauvoir
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/not_de_beauvoir_1245050


Licking Life's Luscious Lips
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/licking_lifes_luscious_lips_1288730


Cherry Ripe
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/cherry_ripe_1288487


Entranced
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/entranced_1254444

As Won

A perfect of delight the morning
a brunch for 20 people.
Delicious the word of the day 
Dill, cilantro,garlic, cucumbers
,green onions,lime juice, cream
Cheese, chopped Swiss cheese,
Bacon  and olive oil mixed smooth
Served with watercress 
Cured salmon 
Cured herring
Procuttio 
Toasted garlic bread

Scrabbled eggs
Ribeyed steak steak loaf
With fried onions, mushrooms
Provolone, cream cheese
Peppers, bacon wrapped in
Pastry and served with cheese
Sauce 
For dessert a
Glorious raspberry and strawberry
Pastry tarte with pastry cream
And Carmel pecans

Coffee, sprite and vodka infection


Yottia, Yottia, bleep bomb ooh!
Got me sangin!
Form: Ballade

The words found a way a song

[Verse 1]
I can feel it in my bones,
a low hum in my ears,
all the words I kept unspoken,
all the things I held so dear.

For a long time I clenched them tight,
never let them touch the air,
pressed them down into my notebooks
like secrets no one else could bear.



[Pre-Chorus ]
But ink turns restless in the dark,
scratching at the page—
and one night it climbed right out of me,
refusing to behave.

[Chorus]
Now the words just bubble up,
spill out before I think,
turn to poems on my tongue,
turn to songs before I blink.
Call it magic, call it madness,
call it heart or call it hymn—
but I can’t stop the rhythm rising
from the deepest place within.


[Verse 2 ]
They clawed, they scrabbled,
they broke loose from the quiet,
dragging melody behind them
like sparks starting a riot.

I answer friends in verses now,
confess my sins in rhyme,
walking lighter through the world
but thinking deeper every time.

[Bridge]
Maybe healing isn’t gentle,
maybe truth is loud and raw—
maybe singing is the only way
to survive the things we saw.

[Final Chorus ]
So let the words keep bubbling up,
let them rise and let them spin—
turn my silence into thunder,
turn my losses into wind.
If it’s magic or it’s madness,
I’m still learning where I’ve been—
but I’ll follow every rhythm
from the lifelines in my skin.

[Outro ]
Form: Lyric

Premium Member A Lull

He trusted that writer’s block was just a lull and searched for his pen

Ink had dried for some time and his worn mind scratched for words

A lullaby or even a tristich would do if an epic eluded his triste drought


Anything to get words into motion once more before sadness set in

Yet he stared at blank pages and paused before stitching up muse

Silence was alchemy in disguise and inner voices shouted lost causes


Three lines were stuck in the fountain and his quill would not scribble

Mute and depleted he scrabbled congested emptiness into lost letters

But drawn by invisible spells sentences woke from catatonic displeasure 


The flood gates opened and Atlantis surfaced from sunken slumber

An underworld of forgotten allusions sprouted eluviation in reverse

Emptiness meta-morphed into congestion on a once silted river


Streams of consciousness cascaded above cesspools of tidal return

Waterfalls seemed to rise from stagnant illusions of frozen arrest

Soft water in veins of calcified drowning emerged on the surface


As he mended confusion seams repaired forgotten hem’s dreams

Poet he was still is and will be and he exhausted himself yet again

Three stitches of past present and future and sanity basted aloud



15th February 2020

Contest sponsored by Edward Ibeh

Pick a title Vol 14 contest Tristich

Title picked A lull
Form: Tristich

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