Long Scrabbling Poems
Long Scrabbling Poems. Below are the most popular long Scrabbling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scrabbling poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh, what a poet I could be,
If it wasn't for Babslou93.
Each day new words come thick and fast,
Each one I think I'll make the last,
But no, I can't resist the lure,
I send a stonker right back to her.
Then back she comes with thirtyfive,
I strive to keep the game alive,
My paltry twenty she jumps on,
Sixty eight, where did that come from ?
I'm really stuck - I've got a Q,
Defeat is clearly now in view.
Resorting to strange words, it seems
Nothing can outwit her schemes.
My every little plot is thwarted,
I'm really feeling quite exhausted.
The end's in sight, a final flourish.
She's won the day. My game was rubbish.
And though I'd like my breath to catch,
No chance, she's after a rematch.
And so the hours are whiled away,
As urgent matters of the day
Are sidelined, but pleasant I agree
Is Scrabbling with Babslou93.
Today's headline: Mass vaccination in Africa begins in mid-2021
Wildfires do not pause for water hose, their seething pain not soothed by
a retard, life's full of
pose and repose when fairness reigns, otherwise
it's forfeited to vulgar lust.
The season's devil must vanquish
kindly, collectively, without murmuring prejudice, or it seizes upon
our wretched walls, taxing our profit,
the lofty humanity.
Gladly lay account to an unreality,
that Africa gets it first and the West last, can you imagine, they'll
likely nuke Africa to come out first, so the white ruling class of the world
can rejoice a heroic battle won with its golden-wiped, polished media bandits -- they are good for a swindle and a grief.
I want someone to rob the West of all their vaccines and dump them in Africa, so the slave continent can beat the old sorcery kitchen and escape its wilderness, let the scoundrels of the West hue and cry and speak of fairness and equality, scrabbling Africa's chestnut, their halls of power in moonlit gloom. The seven deadly sins of colonialism jump at us too late to stop the momentum, a brilliant revenge: pillage, slavery, settlement, indoctrination, coups and countercoups, and lies, history's full of them, and so is the ballad of the barefeet people's will to resist, every day is a good day to hang a colonialist by a Christmas tree.
Just witnessed a nasty incident.
So glad that it’s now over.
My hearts all a flutter as
I’m trying to recover
At the supermarket coffee machine
Standing there on my own
When a nasty accident happened.
A woman fell off of her phone.
I saw the horror in her eyes,
Saw the fast approaching fear,
During those few vital seconds
It wasn’t clamped against her ear.
For a instant it was just like
Taking part in a movie thriller:
I was looking into the eyes
Of a panicky potential killer.
Scrabbling it up quickly,
Normal position was assumed
As, giving me a haughty look,
Normal service was resumed.
Reassuring words were poured
Quickly from the other end
As contact was restored with
Her equally panicking friend.
Be afraid, be so very afraid
If, when you’re on your own,
Confronted by a user who’s lost
Contact with their mobile phone
On one side
One person omitted from a dozen
On the other side
Five added to six persons
Making two over doubles scores
Scrabbling with the round leather with passion
All in the quest for action
But occasionally with a distinct fashion
Separated by a mad man
Running from pole to pillar
With a whistle in his mouth
Plagued alongside two other manias
Raising a piece of cloth
Coiled in a stick at each others half
Watched by frenzy fanatics at an open ground
The twenty-two persons are
Baptised with the name players
Desperate with zeal to hit the leather
Into a rather big fish net pillared by a pole
Behind the glove man
They seek to keep the round leather
Tossing it around with a rare
Aesthetic beauty that is only common
Across the Niger Area in the black continent
With a rhythmic samba beat in the Pele continent.
Nothing brings joy and unity like the round leather.
Alayande Stephen. Tolulope
21st ,October, 2005
1.11pm
Form:
There have been operatic Voices
in my aria love and tragic fear lives,
each one speaking of epic PermaCultural Paradise hopes,
some actively seeking more cooperatively organized habitat,
a student/teacher deep learning few,
green ecoschooled in some polypathic way
To hear LoveVoices mostly scrabbling through disorganized pipe dreams
of this unrealistic Win/Lose violent culture-devouring reality
surrounded by an outdoor mostly WinWin Earth
of economic
and political
and personal
and community
and family cognitive-affective climate health
and chronic YangEgo dominant stress disorders
Rather precisely planted
where we had originally intended
the sun best never shine
in a public kind of way
While we continue more actively hoping for PermaCultural Paradise
for growing abundantly healthy wealth,
sometimes curious therapies
always rooted in multicultural self-growing cooperative guilds,
courageously resilient
SelfHealth and OtherWealth Mutual Trust Care
ZeroZone Democracy CoOperative Contracts and Win/Win Constitutions
Resilient/Confluent Body/Mind Nature/Spirit Ego/Eco
health/care cooperative trust designing,
paradise daily implementing pro-life strategies
as appropriate to resilient ego/ecosystems
through all four seasons of development
and eight regenerations of Operatic Scale.
Each with our own DNA-fractal structured
holonic reasoning epic memories
of deep sacred ecology
theologically resonant positive light energy
multicultural meaning,
nature ethological,
and spirit vocational health/wealth humane/sacred purpose
Declared transparently
with full WinWin operatic
Fertile epic Voice.
Information superhighway bumper to binary bumper.
Stark contrast versus deserted macadam thoroughfares.
Magnification rendered visualization coronavirus
alias covid 19 courtesy electron microscopy plus
sundry computer technology yours truly (popeye
Olive Garden variety generic layman) breathtakingly
held spellbound, née utterly transfixed vibrant
spectacular design regarding inexplicable dynamic
forces wrought creation (albeit - alluringly beautifully
charming, deceptively eminently fascinating, and
globularly highly intriguing biochemical cellular
denizens - indubitably jackknifing kindred livingsocial
man/womankind now outstripping Buffy the vampire
(weakened immunity system of the down) slayer
kickstarting pandemic induces *****sapiens to
experience extravagant fancy feast humble pie
(just desserts) necessitate quarantine to minimize
transmission, whereby (Gogol Ling) dead souls
agonizingly writhe within purgatory tests mine
Unitarian/nonestablishmentarian credo, never with
me wildest imagination intimating detrimental fatal
impact avast swath terra firmae, aye attest dominant
primate species, not necessarily lost cause, nor
civilization and discontents forsaken, but buzz
feeding foretaste (think while leg propped atop desk -
armageddon), of end times nonetheless triggering
linkedin helter skelter, wrenching economy (globally
webbed) doleful Lake Woebegone citizens haphazardly
remaining approximately six feet between another
human beings scrabbling, scrambling, scrimping, saving
international decree obligating painstaking handwashing
absolute zero socialization (comprising no more than ten
people), said groupon crowdsource commingling verboten,
yes tis moost ideal for solitary fellow (me barely a Yogi)
yabba dabbling playing online solitaire, chess, listening
to deep sleep music, meditating, reading, and/or writing.
“Wind Song”
When the rain came it raised a torrent
music, little by little, raised the levy
light pebbles rolled over one by one
took with them
all their
flotsam and jetsam
leaves ferrying Black Ravens carried on
Brook babbling
listened to the birds scrabbling
singing -
“I am the one!"
"I am the one!”
Fed them bread and thanksgiving
Fat and feathered their over fed pride sung
Red Robin turned with the Wind,
flew red currents away from the Aviary in full swing
Spreading wings, riding on their Wind Song
She sings She sings
(Lovejoy-Burton, August 2018)
"Home is where your story begins."- Unknown
1. Levy
impose (a tax, fee, or fine).
"a tax of two per cent was levied on all cargoes"
synonyms: impose, charge, exact, demand, raise, collect, gather; More
archaic
enlist (someone) for military service.
"he sought to levy one man from each vill for service"
noun
an act of levying a tax, fee, or fine.
"police forces receive 49 per cent of their funding via a levy on the rates"
synonyms: tax, tariff, toll, excise, duty, fee, imposition, impost, exaction, assessment, tithe, payment; More
historical
an act of enlisting troops.
"Edward I and Edward II had made substantial use of the feudal levy for raising an army"
2. Levee
an embankment built to prevent the overflow of a river.
a ridge of sediment deposited naturally alongside a river by overflowing water.
a landing place; a quay.
A mental landscape of shifting sand dunes.
an intimation that something may be worth writing,
A scrabbling creature crawls bedraggled out from
a saturated darkness.
A Scarab beetles shadow takes hesitant form.
Watch as words ripple above infertile ground,
see how serpentine they flow.
Yet another poem about Creation is arriving.
Adam is sewing pants out of banana leaf's
for Eve.
The young man is jealously aware,
that the googly-eyed monkeys
are eyeing her nubile libido.
Early days in the Garden; Eve is making
mud cakes, they have yet to figure out
how to eat manna.
The scarab beetle, has resorted
to scratching hieroglyphics,
for words alone are no going to complete,
this arid revelation.
Something may be worth,
transcribing - maybe.
Perhaps this envisioning
will find fresh water in a dry place.
The white page has a blank face for a reason.
BOOM
IDEA
EXITEMENT
NOVELTY
My brain wants to create.
A new thought! How exciting!
I am consumed by it, addicted to it.
I think of nothing else
My thoughts are bound,
My ideas are developing.
They spiral into ever more elaborate complexity
I am condemned to perpetual wakefulness
I forsake the tender embrace of night’s repose and let my artistry bloom
From the snarled labyrinth of my thoughts emerges a single unwound strand
All culminating in an unimpeachable, quintessential, paramount, flawless idea
My fingers itch.
It is time to finally begin.
Every free moment is spent locked in my room poking, stabbing, slicing, shredding.
Eating, sleeping, and cleanliness all become secondary to this act of creation.
I drag this idea kicking and screaming out of my head and into reality one pinprick and callus at a time spending all my time and energy not even bothering to refuel myself then…
A tragedy.
Lack of yarn, fabric or thread.
I measured only once.
I estimated something wrong.
I overestimated my ability.
I can’t do anything right.
I wasted all that time and energy.
dehydrated, dirty, and decrepit,
I push aside the mess covering my bed and drop into a dreamless sleep.
Some projects end here.
Some, when faced with adversity, break.
But some persevere.
For some, a solution appears.
I am whipped into the tumultuous maelstrom of creation scrabbling to reach for pins, wire, and scissors concealed in the fibers of my floor of lava.
Out of my beautiful, painful chaos emerges a messy masterpiece.
With crooked seams and yarn the wrong color.
Perfection was never obtainable.
Yet, it is good.
Good n plenti riches abound
unreachable to gentle
hermit while aboveground,
human ship of state
fore'er stranded aground
only thru death do him part will
his grievous soul get spirited airbound
chokehold sensation ceased when freedom
against debtor's prison unshackled
humongous human corporeal being all around
to little monetary largesse
arrived too late to astound
pipe dream eternally left within background
jackass kippered, milquetoast pockmarked,
Goliath scarred, voodoo battleground
visible near completely bloody lovely bones
partly denuded flesh
buried shallow belowground
scouting, scenting, scrabbling
one after another bloodhound
clamors leaps and doth bound
nosing, trumpeting, yelping...
despite snout muzzled reinforced brassbound,
no deterrent grisly bared, limp, lifeless body
sacrificed at skull and bones campground,
despite decay tell tale
hunch unearthed mound
picked over remains evince sound