Long Shouting Poems
Long Shouting Poems. Below are the most popular long Shouting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shouting poems by poem length and keyword.
I remember
dancing for joy
Sitting on an open shelf
This beautiful maiden
Strolls into the shop
As my eyes whistled
She picked me up
Holding me in her hands
Smiling down at me
Excited
Oh I love
Words had trembling effect
with this cheese
Taking me home
You took a little bite
A little taste
Nibbling
Out of me
Lips softly grin
bursts in flavour
Almost cheesy
Licking delicious
Opening a door
You placed me
on top shelf
Felt like royalty
Lights out wow
The last face
I remembered
Ever so beautiful
Weeks pass
Feeling almost
out of date
Left in the dark
A smell started
Pungent in fungus hair
Taking over
almost septic
Crawling green
in mildew
Beautiful maiden
Awaiting you in dreams
You open the door
Squealing out
Monsters
frightened in the fridge
All I done
was shout cheese
Smile darling
I am
all yours
Sweet love
Thrown in a black plastic bag
Broken hearted suffocating
with the rubbish
Shouting walking away
That's me done
With cheese
It was so sad
The green hairy
old monster
Began crying
Now smile
for cheese
As you will not like
To see the ugly side
Of the green
hairy old
Cheese monster
I do not want a neon God
Orange bright
Flourescent pink, glowing light
For all to see
In darkest night
I'd rather have
The subtle charm
With strength to hold in every arm
Or patient hope
And solid calm
I do not need
The flashy stuff on garish stage
With visuals on every page
As life rotates
Through human age
The wisdom now
To soulful dreams
Is silence it seems
That reveals
God's delicate schemes
The inner room
The heart space, clear
Where gratitude for every tear
Is soaked by love
Replacing fear
The worldly clamour
For my mind
The buzzing lights so unrefined
Revealed deception
Cruel, unkind
I neutralise
With heavenly truth
A mystery disguised to youth
Of settled soul. Of peaceful rhythm
Released control
A rhyme untainted
The ancient rule
Of beauty unpainted so old it's cool
The teacher's in...
Not classroom school
That neon fad
That tragic shouting
From soapbox square, no crumbs for birds
Meaningless pouting
Just empty words
So I resolve to dim the bright
Pull down the shade
So that there might
Be revelation by
Internal light
no scrap of wrestle left inside and the battle remains
the same each morning in and all night out of peace
rock bottom ground control on empty remote chance
that this too shall pass in lost resolve of moving on
getting out of bed leaves a struggle
pajamas drenched in sweat and tears of vacant promises
bottom with deep sores of apathy and motionless arrest
tied to inertia and its evil stagnant imposition on a ghost
in search of anything worthwhile to rescue from the bones
brushing teeth a swedge too hard to heed
darkness leaves a forlorn trace of self-negating shadows
curtains drawn at the interface of death apart from living
random rays of sunlight blind weary eyes that saw enough
contrast of mangy soullessness with manic delirious craze
one more thought too much to bear
the heroine can’t lick her oozing wounds at risk of drowning
ear drums burst from constant onslaught of crescendo’s call
the double bladed tongue of reason scrapes lips and excoriation
and yet reception is on auto pilot and the dial of feeling stuck
emotion hurts any sensation on repeat
multiple voices offer an affray of inconsequential shouting
accuse betray condense deceive reflect guilt anger angst and shame
who would not admire the brave courage to brace the screaming pain
to endure and tolerate the injustices abuse neglect and evil spiral
while the clasp of nothingness prevails
just then he gently wipes her brow and plants a tender patient kiss
one gesture of love contains more compassion than a hundred words
and quietly they suffer together the difference kindness can make
the greatest struggles never see the light of public dispensation
and she replies in whispers I love you too my dear friend
08th March 2021
The stories I could tell,
Of Eeling days,
And nature's ways,
Of friendships formed in those days,
Of secrets shared,
And lessons learned,
When eels swam freely.
Times when mums and dads could breathe easily
With children shouting gleefully,
While the eels swam freely.
Thoughts of of a future without eels
swimming freely,
And the young ones making friendships
In dark alleyways,
Out of reach of nature and her ways,
Not something I contemplated during my eeling days.
Yet it came to pass that the eels swam less freely,
And mums and dads were breathing less easily,
With the young forming friendships in dark alleyways,
Out of reach of nature and her ways.
Yet, there are signs that if we care to look more closely,
For eels swimming again freely,
We will find them in numbers that will let mums and dads,
once again breathe easily,
Allowing for children eeling, down by the river,
to once again become a common sight,
With friendships formed in ways that are right
Under nature's eye.
Away from places where friendships often lie.
The world is shouting non stop
Voices from deep in the wilderness,
And voices from valleys above the mountains
Shouting for prayers to be heard
And for lives to be dignified once more
The world is shouting without pause
Parents shouting with broken hearts
Children shouting with sad tones
Calling names in their shattered dreams
For love to enter field of play
And for justice to reappear in their lives
Neighbours are shouting in their broken homes
Hullabaloo in the middle of the night
Communities longing for hopeful times
Shouting in their quest to overcome obstacles,
Shutting every door to their emancipation
Every creature is shouting for goodness sake,
Craving for joyous celebrations
Shouting for respect in their valleys
Crying for peace in their backyards
Pleading their case on the face of the earth
Shouting with dignity for heaven to listen
A stare across the grassy fields revealed.
Covered with frost, they lay quiet and still.
Their position clearly had a restful feel,
One which will leave them in decline until
Next Spring when they break from their clods.
Few but farmers will notice their weeping sods.
Another look across the horizon did not conceal,
But rather had an arrested scene with the power to heal.
Upon further gaze, there was a tree-lined face,
Laced in a pattern of awesomeness, beauty, and grace.
Nature's way is imposing as she unfolds her art to us,
But she's always advancing in motion, never posing for us.
So, with these words, I capture her mesmerizing display.
If I do nothing else, I will treasure this heavenly scene today.
The moment is ever swift of feet and shall never return.
Embraced by her loveliness, I boarded her fleeting scene.
The skies are blue with high-flying clouds, peaceful and far.
And the sunrise blasts from afar like a high-powered star.
Like cloud patterns, such views never come to stay.
But today, it's Christmas, and they're shouting, "HEY"!
647AM122522PS
Night rests heavily upon my head as
daylight creeps slowly into my bed
searching for a shoulder to lean on but night kept
staring in my face lashing out at me without an embrace
The sword of time is piercing me from behind
Morning is dragging me to and fro
And I still don't know which way to go
Night comes alive and lit the promiscuous sky
Forbidden torches sprang up in the air
drawing unruly crowd far and near
Marching fearlessly through the quiet town
chanting wanton slogans all around
Traffic jam, people pushing and shoving
swirling angry words at one another
Blood runs down the narrow ally
staining the dry cracked ground
while souls are weeping underground
Bodies hang aimlessly from trees
And the clan marched vigorously down the street
with guns and sticks twisting in their hand
screaming and shouting racial slang
This rage has been welled up for years
hiding in the bushes and casting shadows
resurrecting the tyranny that has plagued the mother land
They cover their heads with white sheets and
and kneel in front of burning cross on top of the hill
America has betrayed her values
Her sons and daughters have lost their way
and indoctrinated with ideology that will soon pass away
Fear is running down their sad faces while
the group with white sheets create havoc in the streets
The Gods cannot find a place to breath
Nature is burning with heat
Black cars strolling up and down the street
Looking at the oracle on top of the hill
I am twitching and turning
And the fire is slowly burning
Morning has come and gone
And a new day is dawn
Finally I can find a quiet place to sleep.
Oh goodness the house is on fire,
And so is the one across the street,
And the one next door, I’m scared,
And frantic and overpowered with smoke!
I hear the fire crackling
And voices and feel intense heat,
I have to run, and save some
Of my treasures, they are irreplaceable,
Someone is shouting,
Get out of this house, I hear running feet,
Put a wet towel over my head
And head to the lounge which is Smokey,
Collect my first treasure an oil painting
Of my late parents, got to beat
This fire but there’s still more I need
To save, my religious icons from the
Spare bedroom and whilst I am there,
My favourite pink sneakers, repeat
After me I say to myself, ‘You’ll
Be fine’, must hurry - grab my laptop
With irreplaceable information and
My poetry soup poems, I hear someone greet
Me, a fireman, he tells me to leave,
But I still must find great Greek Grandma’s
Vase, whoops grabbed it, nearly dropped it
I blush and try to be discreet,
As I ripped off my pyjama pants,
They were scorched and hot, rush Jennifer
Rush, can’t take much more of this fire and heat,
Unhooked my degrees, as I turn, meet
The chief fireman who grabs my arm,
My word girl, this a command, leave
This house at once! Please there’s just one
More thing I must find, I say yes, but cheat
And turn back towards where half of the
House has burnt down, I have one-minute left!
Go back to my bedroom through fearsome flames,
Still have the wet towel on my head,
Save my gold trinket bracelet from my 21st,
And with newfound strength, run to the street,
I only have my pajama top and panties on
But covered with minor burns, bruises and soot,
From head to foot!
Happy as I lark, I couldn’t care for the rest,
And I saved what I wanted,
Risking my life and trying my best!
THANK GOODNESS MY FAMILY WERE NOT IN THE HOUSE!
ENTERING POETRY CONTEST – SEVEN THINGS YOU WOULD SAVE IF YOUR HOUSE WAS ON FIRE.
14/2/2019
Whispers in the blue bonnets, merging with the evening breeze
Blowing cottonwood on currents cooled by nights approach
Whispers in the leaves as they dance across the rye grass
Swirling, dipping to the music of an early spring.
Whispers of angels past, who once played here
Chasing sunbeams as they fade into the shadows
Laughter scarcely heard in the rustle of the branches
Angels frolicking in the cedars; chasing bygone dreams.
Children once graced this field of clovers,
Rainbow shorts and ribbon pony tails
Chasing fireflies, with jars for lanterns
Shouting catch me, if you can.
Vacant fields where joy had once resounded
Empty lots with empty swings
Now just whispers in our memories
Murmurs unearthed in baby angel sighs.
OK another adventure in the mad poet’s life,
This occurred just before I met Jane, my imaginary wife.
Jane’s brother, Glen had set me up with a blind date
He said the girl was a stunner, I could not wait
So dressed in me stripe trouser with me chequer tank top vest
I oiled me baldhead and let the old spice do the rest
Off I went down town to meet Deglet Noor (that was her name)
Glen said, “If you see her lips you’ll want to kiss them more and more.”
Then I saw her, and dam what a blind date
She was lumpy like custard with an all eye seeing Rottweiler that made me fearfully
hesitate.
She looked like a bulldog chewing on a bee
And the Rotter was eyeing me leg as if it wanted to hump me
I thought to myself, give the girl a meal
Then we call it a day and that was the deal
She chose this uptown place where rich people dined
A French restaurant with snails and frogs legs, you know the funny kind
I had a steak, she had prawns and a lobster too
And she persuaded me by force to drink champagne form her trainer shoe
When she ate poor lobster it was a terrible gore
I wish she could have taken a tip from Sir Robert Hinshaw
When we finished the waiter brought the bill and waited for me to pay
£1500 bloody pounds, my bowels almost gave way
I said to him “We not finished yet. Could we have Ice cream and coffee?”
And I said “Oh and don’t forget the mint toffee”
Me credit card was on strike and would not handle that amount
It was time for me to exit time to get out
So when the waiter had gone I told her I was going to the loo
Said to her I needed to off load a number two
In a terrible panic I managed to squeeze through the window, hitting the deck
I punched the air shouting “Yes!” followed by an “Oh F-ck” and “What the Heck”
I had fallen into the kitchen and not outside you see
The head chef said “We built it this way to stop people like you stealing from me”
Five weeks on and 100000 dishes later,
If I stayed any longer I’m sure I would have been promoted to head waiter
Nevertheless, If you do come across Glen give me a shout
Tell him the mad poet is looking to blow his brains out
**For my sweet Delysia Hendricks who asked me to write this poem**
**Deglet Noor is a date that you eat if you didn't know**