Long Scrutinized Poems
Long Scrutinized Poems. Below are the most popular long Scrutinized by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scrutinized poems by poem length and keyword.
It’s not your mistake, you did nothing,
For every problem we were facing, we should’ve done something.
Instead of keeping everything inside our hearts; letting us shatter,
Talking with each other, could’ve made everything better!
We should’ve scrutinized each other’s, both the sides,
It’s an essential step for a happy life, I recently realised.
But it’s not your fault, I know you were just scared of getting caught,
While searching for a happy life, which, with me you never got.
Everything best for both of us, I know, you always thought.
You definitely had rights to choose your own life and I’m glad you had courage to give it a shot.
In my childhood, dreaming of spending my entire life with you is all I ever wanted,
But for unfortunate circumstances, practicing a life without you is something I should’ve sorted.
If I would’ve done that…Today, I would’ve known how to deal,
With you and our relationship, which neither of us could heal.
Guilty and lonely, is all now I feel…
The Tally Up Ceremony was used to announce
the Creation of the
Worlds Championship for heavyweights.
They had announced during the summer
that a series of matches
had been taken place
that would
be calculated and scrutinized.
A
"In Name Only" bouts
and series had taken place
some unify partners
who were begrudged
were once the
professional opposition clause
had to be used might
the management go to far in there
promotions of matches.
The company president reffered to one
match making attemp
to be either unified or challenged
the partners didn't jive and even there ambition couldn't keep them straight.
We anyway. The specail announcement was that durning
the series of matches
a tournament had been issued
and the stats had been keep secret.
twelve teams
were entered
six matches
one bye( if a team or teams were to forfeit due to inability to compete)
or The Professional Oppossion Clause) two teams opped out.
and a battle royal withthe remain members
was issued. The last two men were
beleived to then
tag against there next obsticale
not knowing
that these two finalist
would be
the two men to compete in
the finals.
They din't know and we didn't tell them or the fans what was happening.
We knew that a new company would be formed within the framework of this unified collaberate.
Durning the intermission and change f our company
we would show these matches. and then annouce the new champion. at the conclusion of finals.
That din't happen someone leaked the fianls and the championship match.
I woke up one day and there was a message waiting. they had seen the fianls and the crowning of the champion.
this was to happen weeks from now. We were screwed!
Humdumpty was an analyst, a Cambridge Ph.D.,
A noted bio-atomist, whatever that might be.
Indeed, from earliest childhood it was his single aim
To analyze no matter what might enter his domain.
He analyzed his father's watch and next the neighbour's cat.
Ah! Little more was seen or heard of Felix after that.
Astounding learned pedagogues, hard pressed to keep his pace,
Humdumpty grew up daily--in knowledge if not grace.
And then at university his intellectual power
Decimated Einstein and the works of Schopenhauer.
With ease that was amazing he romped a Double First,
And yet, for all his learning, nought quenched his burning thirst.
Despite the storm, and tumult that marked his inner life,
Humdumpty found the leisure to woo--and win--a wife.
He loved her--Oh! so dearly, his idol and his joy!
Alack! How oft our dearest 'tis we ourselves destroy.
One day in stormy weather he raised his eyes above,
And posed himself the riddle: "What constitutes her love?"
One night--to angels' weeping--the dark thought seized his mind:
"By scalpel and analysis the answer I shall find."
Full soon she took a sleeping draught, and when the time was due,
He set about his gruesome task, inspired by love so true.
How tenderly, how lovingly, he cut into her heart.
With what profound emotion he set his spouse apart.
To isolate that molecule in which all love resides
He scrutinized each corpuscle, and did much else besides.
All data was computerized, and ere a while had passed,
A reasonable hypothesis was imminent at last.
How tantalizing is the truth, how far--and yet, how near!
'Twas in the corner of his eye--and then would disappear.
It dawned at last upon him, his efforts would prove vain,
Unless he somehow managed to join her up again.
Of every art that served this end he tried the whole range through.
He first tried biophysics--and his last resort was glue.
Alas, alas, Humdumpty! There is a fateful law:
Some things men set asunder no mortal can restore.
They did not need a hangman or Madame Guillotine.
Before another week had passed, he died of bitter spleen.
Now some say he's in Heaven, and others, he's in Hell.
I'm not a theologian, it's difficult to tell.
For sure, he cut his dear wife up, and who would call that right?
But was it not his quest for truth that brought about his plight?
A Poets Duty
A sense of structure within a theme
Imagination likened to a dream
Tell a tale set the scene
From life experiences we wean
A tale full of wonderful words
Gelled in rhyme to suit the nurds
A free verse of considerable worth
Exploiting the value of earth
Stories that may be old or new
Containing details not so true
But gives the reader a sense
Of the writer’s thoughts condensed
A poet’s duty is immeasurable to their self
But scrutinized and judged off the shelf
Of published works penned by them
read by those who would condemn
If your words make you feel good
Gives you a feeling of maybe you could
Be heading down the track of knighthood
Or voted to a heavenly sainthood
(not that ye wondered,
but simply tubby like totally tubularly clear
The Epic of Gilgamesh will not be extolled here).
Though thoroughly well mapped, parsed,
scrutinized vibrant wonders zoom
plethora, sans newly discovered life forms
cradled with fecund Gaia's womb
abound within unlikely places
such as mossy bearded faces
nestling, pronouncing,
and regaling pharaohs sarcophagus tomb
oceanographers also find organic entities
adorning, kickstarting,
and thriving within extremely
remote temperature zones,
where just enough telly tubby wiggle room
prevails for microscopic
Verizon patronizing Grand Poobah
barking orders unicellular viziers heed,
while latter bedecked
with itty bitty plume
invisible to the naked eye, yet within
subatomic world wide web
bit players air heir loom
appearing larger
then cereal grain re: life,
an arrogant, bumptious, and conceited Don
doth trump his young
unbridled, reprobate, and ornery baron as groom
material to check mate
distracted checkered populace,
where raucous, rebellious, riotous
majority lumpenproletariat fuss and fume
cuz gaudy Mar-a-Lago hiss poe tate
tow headed (faux towering
Taj Mahal doppelganger),
via slow vac didst suck socialist rowdy
bot tinny Rajah,
whose apprenticeship to exhume
(pro bone know) spy bots
miserably condemned from the get go
as president erupted rabidly trying to doom
rousing, scenting, and trawling
non-convincing "witch hunt,"
yet incontrovertible evidence carelessly
swept hurriedly under the rug
(by Russ Shins) via broom,
thus a sudden spike
visa vis master card er...
comeuppance will bring ringleader down
with strep away poison
nano trumps all abloom.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Now in summer re:
this Dom minion doth attest
intention to write
a boot equinox got out best
head, although pleasurable
to loose imagination off chest
so thank you for
letting me be a cerebral guest
and now...no dilly dallying,
cuz another writing assign
requires responding
to Matthew Scott Harris's behest!
I speak to the skylights
of your tender soul
in formless forms
in eccentric accents
aching in aloneness...
when tragedies of footprints
remain a sculptured secret ~
like an untitled nightfall
dressed in denied definitions
avoiding the touch
of perception
for mindfulness mirrors
memories I hoard
within titanium trays
of masked melancholy…
but I long for you to wear
chronicles carved within
my cold conscience ~
a universe layered
with moulded memoirs
tell me how it feels
to be a beautiful burden
to the jinxed jewels
feasting upon
scrutinized skin of silence
skeletons of psyche ~
too complex
for concave light...
let me stay ~ stretched
in the still solitary sketch
of surrealism ...
I am not a vision
of gold and glitter
that wicked weavers
can materialize
but an unnamed sight ~
a breathing mystery
the eyes of unfelt dusk
fail to stroll through…
intoxicated on pain
~ an ecstasy etched through angst ~
to never be tamed
to never be told
For the last 64 years,
the US has had 12 Presidents,
and the two major political
parties have been allowed
equal time to lead America.
Six presidents from each party
have served for 32 years. I am not a conspiracy theorist, but I must confess that I found this discovery to be to be extremely
interesting.
Each party and their leader
have criticized, debated, and
scrutinized the other side,
and for the most part, with
good taste and civility. In part,
this is what helps to make and
keep America great. Sometimes,
we Americans need to pause and
champion our Collective Progress.
At the proper time, history
will play a huge role in exposing
who did what, where, how, and why.
God Himself, in the final analysis
will determine who we are and
what we have done as a nation.
Until then, may God enable
us as a nation to remain
a bright and shining light.
081024PS
Democrats Republicans
========= ===========
Biden 2020
-----
Trump 2016
-----
Obama 2012
-----
Obama 2008
-----
Bush* 2004
-----
Bush* 2000
-----
Clinton 1996
-------
Clinton 1992
-------
Bush# 1988
-----
Reagan 1984
------
Reagan 1980
-----
Carter 1976
------
Ford 1974
----
Nixon 1968
-----
Johnson 1963
-------
Kennedy 1960
-------
081024PS
THE NIGHTINGALE LOST HER LAMP
Anita’s eyes were brown.
She was the kindest of angels.
Her speech firm with authority
but reassuring with a glass- like
sensitivity; she seemed to know all.
Prompt as a rooster's first crow,
that's how she is.
She stands like a lioness
ever ready to act, a channel
to prolong the patient's life.
Her heart is a captive cog
of dedicated compassion:
as a wife, as a mother, as a Dean,
Professor, and as a nurse.
She stood always regal in white.
Bearing a sanction of life and death
with each shot made by her gentle hands.
She had Tiger eyes for signs and symptoms;
sponges to absorb order and pressures,
she was simply a lamp for a sick person.
Our batch, she handles with iron fist.
Labeled as "black sheep" – for some of us
are noisy cans but empty inside.
Black sheep but later turned into
the cream of the crop. She stood as
our Samson pillars then despite canyons of
doubts and critiques, our batch defies the odds.
Yet, one day a snapshot happened –
She fainted while teaching.
She was brought to the hospital,
scrutinized and observed like
the frog in my sophomore year.
I was one of the nurses who rendered care.
I watched, how the shining light in her eyes
turned to stormy sadness. I have heard
how her sturdy voice now sounded
a tattered tape only syllables and groans,
no more. Her before supple glowing skin
turned a wrinkled ash — all tautness gone.
Finally, she needs only bags of blood
in two days her life passed my Anita...
_______________________________________________________
Sponsor Thomas Martin
Contest Name Show but Don't Tell
Placed 3rd...
O.E. Guillermo
5:15 pm, May 19, 2015
MAYBE??? I'm lost
Maybe I'm found
DIRTY I Am
yet that's my vessels solid substance
maybe I'm sound???
laid on the floor
DIRTY
scrutinized and DENIED
yet WHOLESOME
AM I because
I was CREATED to FLOW
I rise I'm more than just the DIRT BENEATH my TOES
my THIGHS, TEARS I CRY those seeds in MIND HEART
Those joys that surface tween my EYES
Angelic visits dreamt revelations
AWAKENINGS
I am more than I AM I AM
I am for certain ROYALTY PRIESTHOOD
I am that I AM and that, that I AM IS God's
I AM that I AM I'm CHOSEN washed and birth and clothed in
The SKIN of the LAMB
Birth reborn cleasned born again in HIM
Who was is slaying on the cross ???
I am found I am not lost
I am !!! CHOSEN!
WASHED! In the blood of the ALL I AM JESUS
HALLELUJAH GLORY HONOR AND EVER PRAISE
HALLELUJAH
HALLELUJAH
HALLELUJAH
AMEN
4/1/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023
Inspired by the incongruous
Joe exotic Documentary
You think because I smile I’m
happy, well it’s one big facade,
Strut round my insane kingdom,
driving all and sundry mad,
Like the tigers in my cages,
hiding a life of pent up pain,
I’m a fraud a loser a below
par human, Carole’s the blame.
Red herrings my speciality,
but she will not take the bait,
I know she killed her husband,
then his body the tigers ate,
One mission in life, to be
undisputed big cat king,
Sit upon my throne like Nero,
lighting fires while I sing.
Haters bastards begrudgers,
every step I take,
Urging yearning me to crack,
Well I ain’t going to break,
Disgusting cowardly clones,
with the same toothless face,
Ignominious wretched pigs,
my defeat you’ll never taste.
The loathing inside’s unspeakable,
but I just can’t hold my tongue,
Feel it in my stentorian voice,
Can’t control this temper long,
Feeding off the hate, nourishes
the will to take her under,
Paranoid in self pity and woe,
I’ve just made a serious blunder.
Life is unraveling gradually,
delusions of grandeur smother,
Forced to show my hand,
scrutinized by hating others,
Keeping my best side out,
whilst been eating alive within,
Won’t back down, a cornered cat,
will attempt a pyrrhic win.
Alas my soul dies in prison,
cos the system got it wrong,
I am innocent, was all her fault,
in here that fat cow belongs,
No more sidearms for protection,
goddamnit miss my gun,
Wish I was a tiger in a cage,
concrete walls block out the sun.
Joe exotic never did kill Carole,
not for the want of trying,
Was served to the Feds by felons,
who stole his sideshow shrine,
Karma your own worse enemy,
if mixing with conmen and liars,
When looking for someone to burn,
throw each other upon the fire.
Podium Placing Promise (5) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand 04/01/2021