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.
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?
When you speak to an audience, who are you talking to? The people in front of your screen or those trapped in your dreams? More than thirty thousand people are watching you simultaneously and the language that you portrayed is interpreted in many different ways. When you are on screen, you are not speaking to one person; your multitude of words can rest heavily on the soul for those who absorb them.
I don’t know who you are talking to when you are on the screen unless you place me in a private chat room and direct the conversation to my dream; the universe is blending with you and they will tell you what to do; over a million voices have heard you and ten million ears understand you.
When you leave this place, you will be a better man and a better woman, don’t ever take me for granted because I have ninety-nine lives and I have died and risen many times so get ready for the next journey because we are going to break the box office record and then we dance the shimmy.
I saw you on the screen yesterday with a burden on your face; it is not the regular excitement that I used to see, it’s one mounted with fear and anxiety. It was as if you were speaking and thinking of the journey you have to go, but all the reporters on the scene add compliments to the show.
You use a lot of energy to present the news, do the commentary and analyze the prosperity; the ship is waiting in the dock and the passengers and crew are watching the clock, the cameras are rolling, the makeup is on and you must be on the set before the break of Dawn. The story is just unfolding.
When you speak to an audience let them know what you mean, your body language and tone reveal your countenance for the entire day and even a subtle eye movement will show you the way.
When you are speaking to an audience, you must show variation in your tone. If the point is directed to me, let me know through the constant movement of your little finger because the audience is the art of the show.
We are getting ready for the summer “shots” and we are going to give it all that we’ve got, the equipment is on board the crews are rolling in, location scene shots are identified, analyzed and scrutinized. Security arrangements are put in place for you to completed this final phase, the heat is on and the sacrifice has begun and the queen of the sea has landed.
(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!
FRACAS MISCELLANY
(Let's Slam):
This futuristic society is all about the status quo.
The soul of humanity is therefore exposed to terrorists’ attacks and war.
Where I am from cries out to unknown God to no be the prophesy of Armageddon.
An eternal doomsday is perceived.
So much is happening for no reason at all other than man not seeing himself as his own dilemma.
(Now Rap):
A sniper
A peace fight
Police officers lost their lives.
From the highest tower,
Shots are fired.
Over what is stated to be the white man crimes.
Of oppression and a racist society
A peace fight transpired.
Five officers died.
We mourn and we cried,
(We Slam):
The site or time of a final and conclusive battle between the forces of good and evil defines the State of the Union now.
Pseudonymity, symbolic imagery, and the expectations of a nice-styled terrorist attack is an imminent cosmic cataclysm in which God destroys.
The ruling power of evil is no more because the raising of righteous lives has superseded all others.
(Now we Rap):
Shouting the face of America has been scrutinized from
Transgression of another hate crime.
Six were wounded and five died
Over Black lives matter.
(Slamming):
Messianic kingdoms are part of a historic form relating to a messiah being our savior.
In that we must be our own guardian angel and establish defense by being aware of the impending danger, knowing our territory is of great importance.
With the bordering of the Atlantic, Pacific, and Arctic oceans; immigration is our focus.
However, what is happening today is our own melee.
Native born lives are being negated by those that are for the United States of NA as a white man’s persuasion.
Fracas has therefore formed in which snipers are born.
(Ends with it's a Rap):
Upsetting the balance of society
A sniper - a suicide boomer manifest.
Upset with white people - a state of madness
He stated he wanted to kill a multitude of them,
White police officers especially.
Today is troubled.
Tragedy is an ongoing melee.
Now an uproar throughout the United States (of NA).
____________________________________________________________|
Written July - August 2016!
[3RD CONTINUATION]
Many fell in my charm, because in a few days,
Hundreds of people took me in their arms with many a happy face.
Nurses, doctors, clergymen, many men and women,
Hugged and cradled me as if I was for all men.
Now I shall speak of my days in the world;
Going chronologically so that all everything is called
To mind and seen as I see them myself.
If the heavenly realm and humanity is ready, then enjoy yourselves:
FIRST DAY:
The bells were tolling as I came in to the earth,
Ending at the twelfth stroke as i had said,
And heaved twelve times as I was cleaned by the doctor
On call to my home, who scrutinized my face with rigor:
T'was as if he did not believe I was a normal baby
And was just out to clarify his doubt. How searchy!
But..He had the right to believe so
For my arrival on earth was poor.
Normal babies cry to announce their arrival
On earth per se to join in human slavery as constitutional:
I merely kicked and furtively gazed through ajar eyes
At all who appeared, awaiting my cries.
Hundreds of people were soon in my home
TO welcome me because i had come
Strong and healthy, Strong and healthy;
At the time when the family was wealthy.
My earthly mother had been rushed to the hospital
Because of some impervious pains which grew so tall.
Soon there I followed to be lactated
Despite her failing health.
My earthly father was the Sheik of the Moslem Community
In the town. It was indeed a large periphery,
Out-growing those of other religions.
Sheik Modigbo was his name from tradition.
As the day grew old many people arrived
To behold the baby and touch it because much could be derived
From the first child and son of the Sheik of the Land.
Let them come and enjoy my great tan.
I was lactated and left to sleep in peace,
While earthly mum was cared for by a Miss;
A beautiful doctor who had caressed my face,
Setting everything burning in place.
My eyes were close as always and body still-
With the impression that I was asleep on the hill
Of peace and happiness.
How feignacious! What a distress!
At midnight I was asleep-
Gone to my real world so deep,
In the fabrics of the universe
Where stood the famed Mount Everest.
[TO CONTINUE..]
We (the missus and I) kvell for Katz TOASTER PASTRIES!
I prefer to craft a poem
for no rhyme nor reason
expressing heartfelt pleasure
to our highly refined palate
versus presenting tasty, yummy
and zesty nutritious snacks
exuberant feedback courtesy Tik Tok.
Aside from harkening from Semitic stock
me and the missus
relish those (Katz) gluten free pastries
they give us the oomph to rock
and similar to powder milk biscuits
give us strength to do what needs to be done.
Though no intention to mock
popular Pop-Tarts
(stylized as pop•tarts),
an American brand of toaster pastries
produced and distributed by Kellanova
(formerly Kellogg's) since 1964,
which consist of a sweet filling
sealed inside two layers of thin,
rectangular pastry crust.
In 2006, Mrs Katz decided
to transform the world
of gluten free snacking
for her celiac children.
Eighteen years later,
she retains firm stronghold
courtesy word of mouth watering
salivating (videlicet) Pavlovian
salutary, masterly, hardy,
deliciously crafted wholesome food
clinching dominant market share
analogous to stronghold ala deadbolt lock,
a recipe distributors attempt
to steal by hook or crook,
yet unable to break down fortified doors
after they loudly knock
on one occasion
holding the bakers on their break hostage
pointing culinary harmless
imitation edible Glock,
nevertheless drawing attention
of media camera crews that flock
for breaking shipping news
that harbor standoff
with quasi narco traffickers,
intent to rebrand and sell
Katz TOASTER PASTRIES
as mucked up poor quality dogs treats,
where special op forces
heavily guard the dock
maintaining vigilance around the clock,
to prevent goods held as contrabands
and subject pastry chefs to intense torture
forcing unsung heros
to stay awake 24/7 blindfolded,
so as not to see miscreants,
where ingredients of goodies
sniffed, sifted, and scrutinized
by sophisticated chemical analysis,
and thus I now conclude
contrived fictitious poetic scenario
to share such helpful feedback
in a little ditty composed ad hoc
can boost sales for your company.
by: matthew scott harris
The world is a cold place.
The powerful conscript
the poor for war
so that profits soar.
We see an eagle
and think how majestic
never stopping to analyze
what we're left with?
How pathetic do these
prophecies have to be
before God intercedes?
It's up to the Us's.
The you and me's
but today I woke up
not wanting to see who won
the midterms
but who's holding a grudge
in his hand there is a gun.
Shooting will persist.
This division will continue to split.
Red and Blue our greatest divide,
how did we end up being
so one color focused?
I'm glad for whoever won.
It's not the winners
but the power I fear.
I feel powerless living
at the behest of someone
else's mercy.
Those mercies that say
her body is not hers.
My antibodies aren't fine.
And documentaries
I choose to watch
have to be scrutinized
and remain hush-hush
so that we stay so out of touch
with what made us American.
We've fallen a mighty long way
from great days.
Honestly,
we can no longer hope
to stay the same.
We've changed
slipping ever so closer
to the point of greed
is all we'll know.
We argue instead of listen
and place ego juxtaposed
to healing and say
one step is too far away.
Love thy neighbor
as we love ourselves
was the second best statement
ever written
But utterly fail at following the first.
Our love is devoid of reflection.
I see me in you.
I recognize your pain.
I acknowledge your hurt.
Now, lets find our worth.
It can't be separate but equal.
Can't be two sides of the same coin.
We need to bleed
like cooper in penny.
One of one and solidly so.
Not so easily disregard
but all voices heard.
Turn down that megaphone.
Let the soft spoken be heard.
It's funny. I voted for a President that called me un-American and today was the first time I choose to forgive. We carry the sins of social media longer than we'll ever know.
Unfortunately, I came to deliver a message but no one was home.
They were either celebrating a victory
or loading a gun.
Nobody wins if all of us lose.
Let's try love.
Two kings, one queen looked upon my quiet self as I sat.
Asked I was to appear before them one quiet spring day.
They sat there for moments which seemed like hours.
The first king spoke and said what a shame I had been.
That my career was full of shambles, change I did not accept.
Many people had spoken about physical sickness I spread.
I asked if my designation had suffered so much, why was it now,
Being scrutinized and corrupted by such, and not sooner.
Time had passed and my charm was well and then fell from grace.
While as well maybe I should be the peasant, another to my place.
Haunted, devastated by the words the royalty uncovered.
I was dismissed from their presence, while tears gathered inside.
Like an overflowing bucket, straining, I held them inside.
They formed a gel that hardened my soul and body so quick.
Feeling the jiggling, I somberly left the town of my existence.
Anger raged and boiled the gelatin to a more lucid state.
First one drip from left then following from the right,
Jumbled thoughts swirled the now liquid of salt and grime.
Poured over the humiliation shield, this had buffered me,
Tears of the ages that I had stored ran freely, so rapid.
Inhalations of the fluid that cleanses heartaches, poured out.
Exploding into a landslide, like sudden storms pounding rain.
These supposed to be droplets had grown like hailstones.
Flooding my cheeks, causing a waterfall over my lips,
I tried to wipe them away only to find more that followed.
As in the torrential rains of a summer storm that hammer,
Then heated by the sun to return to flow down again and again,
This river that ran over my entire being was to never return.
Just absorbed into my skin, saltiness to glimmer my sin,
My spirit broken though capturing and rebuilding my soul,
These lucid deluges washed my humiliated grime on the ground.
They have never surged a reenactment and never shall return.
written by
Cecil Hickman
written for
Sponsor HGarvey Daniel Esquire
Contest Name Personify A Tear
Poet: Ismail Junaid Oluwadamilare (Paciolo Pen Saint)
I refuse to blame
Blaming is a temptation
I only want forgiveness,
Utter long praises without pebbles
From the calamity of yesteryear
When;
Misery was overwhelmed,
Sadness burnt fiercely,
Calamities of religions negated
Protruded souls with panic,
Brought vulnerable damages to the eyes of our faith & hope,
Harm to the best servants,
In the pleasure of tyranny clash
I see it as a little feast from His generous leg.
The affliction came as a reminder - scrutinized the pest within us.
I only want to utter long praises without pebbles
For He, who does not thank the blessings of him / how will he thank the blessings of Allah.
*"Alihamdulilahi" is not enough (It meaning is greater than what it fulfills).*
Let me adorn myself in His praises
So he does not deprive me of satisfaction.
Let me sail through the sea of words,
Follow the sweetest words & letters,
From the wave of yesteryear wanted to seize the boat of today
Capsize the rows & oaths in shame.
Words compete / phrases clash
To organise the contract of Thanksgiving
Here in the place of Thanksgiving I stand,
Spread it banner over my head & pillars,
My soul is great - it's a free attitude.
To you alone who take the ride of souls,
I deserve to raise your name above (for every thankfulness has a poem - every success has thanks & strings of appreciation).
Through the note of breeze,
Scent of flowers,
From the depth of depth
I say "Alihamdulilahi".
From your gentle smile that sheds the beauty of its light in the darkness of our hearts
Wipe out our worries in it.
From your tender touch
That explode in our hearts
A fountain of hope in this cruel life.
For the stars looming in your abode above ours
Whose brightness does not diminish from us a single moment
We're happy with their cheerfulness
So we say
"Alihamdulilahi"
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