Long Shrieked Poems
Long Shrieked Poems. Below are the most popular long Shrieked by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shrieked poems by poem length and keyword.
Doo Doo the cat was irritated today; totally not sweet.
She had gone to the roof, and Horned Owl was sitting in her seat.
That is my place, she said, but his look could easily defeat.
He rolled his eyes, and went to sleep, his thoughts now complete.
Come on! Doo Doo shrieked. I need my seat; it is where I sit.
She screamed and yelled and stomped, had a big hissy fit.
Horned Owl raised an eyebrow but it did not annoy him one bit.
He closed his eye back up, to a narrow tiny half slit.
Doo Doo nearly had a conniption fit, she was angry as heck.
She went down to the barn and spoke to the hen named Old Peck.
You are annoying a Horned Owl? You are as crazy as young Beck.
Who is young Beck? She asked. A chick eaten by Horned owl. Oh heck!
Do Horned Owls eat cats? Doo Doo asked, horrified and now scared.
If you go back up there, you will find out, Old Peck said. She cared.
So Doo Doo the cat let Horned Owl have her favorite seat on the roof.
But she carries pepper spray now. Horned Owl’s eyes carry the proof.
Out in the sunshine bright and fair
Where childish feet without a care
Skipped and ran, and laughter shrieked
While chasing bubbles down the street
To rosy lips, one soapy puff, was just enough
To set them loose. And one by one, into the air
They sailed like rainbows, frail and fair
To where, I wonder where? Oh where?
Where, oh where, do bubbles go…?
Where, oh where, does childhood go?
When simple things, could make us laugh
Could take one day, and make it last?
Oh, take me there, to magic land
Where scattered rainbows rise and spin
Where bubbles dance on battered winds
Before they burst, and childhood ends
Plant the child in me again...
Now those eves, when work is laid away,
And restless thoughts, and worries prey
When up the west, my woes unfold
I chase a bubble fantasy....
as if it were my pot of gold
I felt something strange tickling my ear.
I shrugged; then thought it was just the effect of beer.
No, the tickling went on and a white figure did appear.
I shrieked: "Who are you? And why are you here?"
I'm your caring angel. I came to wipe your tear.
Stay away! Don't come so near!
Don't you see me shaking with fear?
Relax! I just want to see you happy in this sphere.
Trust me. I won't be long. I'll soon disappear.
Things have to be set right and made clear.
Bringing your smile back is my reason to interfere.
I looked away wondering: "Isn't this what I want to hear?"
My heart leapt and started to cheer
When a piercing voice crossed my ear:
"Come on, get up! You'll be late, dear!"
...Johnny just shrugged, took out his Bowie knife,
and started carving off meat for a meal.
He built a fire and roasted back-strap,
it tasted strangely like pork, and like veal?
He ate until he could swallow no more,
since he knew not when he would find a trail,
even roasted more pieces to take along
for the hours when his strength might fail.
Before he left, he looked to the beast,
said,”Who would believe what happened here?
They’ll all call me mad if I tell this tale,
unless I get myself a souvenir.”
So he went to work with that same big blade,
then set about on a trail, rather long,
it was another day before he heard
old internal combustion’s sweet song.
When he emerged other hunters came round,
said,”I see antlers, but that ain’t a moose?”
So Johnny showed them the Wendigo’s head,
and good lord what a fright was let loose!
Huge, manly men, all armed with big guns,
shrieked and ran off when they viewed the beast,
Johnny said,”Guys, there’s no need to run!
I assure you, he is quite deceased!”
This all repeated when Johnny came home,
most were scared, but others cried it was fake.
Professor’s ran some tests on its DNA,
shook their heads, said,”There must be a mistake.”
Eventually Johnny grew tired of them,
and returned to his job and his life,
he’s got the Wendigo skull in his basement,
he’ll even show you, if you ask real nice.
As for the creatures still lurking out there,
they have a new fear, and they should.
To this day Wendigos run for their lives
when they see Johnny walk into the woods.
She thought she was having a heart attack.
Her heart was running a marathon.
She had only caught a glimpse of words,
but someone was going to die tonight.
An old lady by a train track.
She stared out her window, wondering if she needed to worry.
No trains around here, her inner voice said.
There was a rumbling past the window.
The house shook.
She forgot for a second she was not home tonight.
She was housesitting for a friend.
Friend’s giant cat took a leap landing on the bed.
Get out! She shrieked, terrified more than ever now.
Noises seem to come from the closet, the window, and the street
She so wished she had not walked into that conversation tonight.
“old lady”, “train track”, “die.”
Sleep never came.
Written 12-14-2019
Contest: Listening In
Sponsor: Julia Ward
I stood there transfixed
in a corner atop a chair
quivering with bulging eyes,
Tears and sweat flowing in rivulets
A lump in my throat
Parched lips and ashen face;
Was it a nightmare I wondered
Or an enormous ogre I see?
Things are not what they appear, they say.
But I swear, standing in front of me
baring its teeth in a sinister grin
was a frightening sight I see
crouching and its claws ready to strike--
God, I knew then, my end was at hand!
An icy shiver shuddered through me.
I shrieked for help but nary a sound
I tried to run but nary a stir…
When the door flew open and
my 3 year old granddaughter walked in…
Ha, there you are!
I’ve been looking all over for you, sweetie pie…
...and bent down
to gently pick her pet mouse!
~"Fear" contest by The Seeker
Tina lost her footing and fell and fell and fell and fell.
Where was she falling? Was this the beginning of hell?
What the heck? She blinked hard. Where was she?
A sign on a large table that was high up said eat me.
I’ll eat you! Tina said, when hell freezes over.
She marched to the door, wearing her pumps she called rover.
The door was locked, so she began doing her dance.
Rolling on the River, it always made her ex’s heart prance.
She got louder and prouder and the door exploded and melted.
She could have not been sexier if she had been kilt-ed.
Do proud Mary next! The Mad Hatter shrieked from the door.
Cheshire Cat and Tweedly Dee and Dum were there, by the floor.
Tina began to spin. Her short skirt showed off her sexy legs.
Okay she said, but after I do you will fix me some cheese eggs?
The whole menagerie was watching, and cheering, as Tina let loose.
The Mad Hatter ran over and gave her a pinchy-goose.
This stopped production and some of them gasped.
But Tina had seen worse, so she gave him a clasp.
She’s such a good sport; the best Wonderland had ever seen.
Off with her head! Yelled the Queen of Hearts, full of mean.
They hid her in a clamshell and served her breakfast too.
Tried to keep Tina Turner forever, just between me and you.
But she is a survivor. She always escapes a bad scene.
And she did it as a lady, showing not one ounce of mean.
Moonlight creeps through the writhing woodland as
Arion walks alongside me—upward toward the lone mountain.
We had trekked for miles and the way was wearisome,
heavy fog in its obscuring fidelity stalking our every step.
Winds shrieked around us like dissonant flutes—
high pitched, fortissimo screams that died in
and died out dismally.
They reminded me of my own undulating doubts
manifesting into fits of malignant mess—
but the steady sound of our unified steps
soothed my panicking heart—tears flower
my eyes, dropping like dew.
Soon—as many storms do—
the winds died away along with my fears.
That is when the mockingbird
began to stridently trill in the distance,
its venting variations vaguely familiar.
Arion and I stopped in a flat clearing, stunned by its clarity,
listening intently to her songs.
Timelessness touched the forest
as melodies touched our hearts.
When her trills ceased, I first witnessed
the tears of my loyal companion.
Somehow, they made him younger and freer.
Excitement sprouted from his eyes
like wildflowers witnessing their first dawn.
He wiped the tears away with his sleeve
and beamed like a sunrise.
“For just one moment—one moment,
she sounded like my mother,” he stammered.
I grasped his hands and held them to my heart.
Arion looked up to the sky, above the circle of trees,
as if he recognized a face in the midnight expanse.
We made a camp and settled silently in the clearing.
The last thing we remember before closing our eyes
was the overhead flutter of shadowed wings
and a gentle sigh beyond the pines.
(note: this is the third part of an epic about Arion I shared a while ago. The first and second pieces are “Little Glistening Salmon” and “Ocarina Steps”)
Eager for candy they roam door to door
They’ve got quite a lot but they’d like a lot more
Dan rang the bell at house number twenty
His dad says it’s home to a lady who’s ‘friendly’
Inside, the sound of feet rushing up stairs
And a man screaming like he’s had too many scares
A lady’s voice asking who’s out in the street
And Dan and his friends shouted out ‘trick or treat’
When the door opened the lady seemed nice
Come in my dears, you look cold as ice
I thought you might be my last visitor’s wife
He’s hiding upstairs in fear of his life
But now that we know it’s you kids trick or treating
Nip up and tell him he’s saved from a beating
And as he was scratching my Halloween itch
Don’t be surprised if he’s dressed as a witch
Dan shrieked when the door knocked as loud as a drum
I‘m meant to stay in so I bet that's my mum
And if it is her, then we’re all in a bind
For Bob and Jed’s mothers will be close behind
The lady said seems like you’ve done nothing wrong
So nip up the stairs until they are gone
Hide under the bed she said, and so they did
But Dan found a wardrobe and that's where he hid
’twas ever so dark but the voice rang some bells
I’m just an old witch and I’m looking for spells
Dan said, I'm a kid but I’m not going mad
But mum will be livid, won’t she Dad?
The men marched by with their heads held high,
Flowers and garlands in the air as the crowd cheered,
The little boy watched with eyes of wonder,
Straining to see through the mass of grateful onlookers.
"I can't see!" He shrieked in nervous excitement,
As the father picked him up on his shoulders.
His blue eyes sparkled with awed admiration,
When one from the troop turned towards him.
His father saluted - he followed suit,
And the man smiled with a nod of acceptance.
As the day came to an end and the streets emptied,
The duo walked back home over the scattered petals.
"I want to be him, papa!" the boy said,
His voice that of a determined four year old.
The father chuckled as he put him down,
His hand going up in a salute for his son.
Fifteen years and not much has changed,
Except for the war that wrecked the city now.
Death and starvation a constant companion,
Distant gunshots the only lullaby children slept to.
The streets were crowded once again,
As barely nourished men crawled the lanes.
The men in khaki carried home a box with pride,
No flowers and garlands this time around.
A blue eyed boy barely out of his youth,
Laid inside in a peaceful slumber.
A voice rang out amongst the masses,
"Papa! I want to be him!" his wail echoed through the night.