Long Shrills Poems
Long Shrills Poems. Below are the most popular long Shrills by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shrills poems by poem length and keyword.
* Paid my heed my friends for the frost giants begin their march southwards,
* and their hounds of winter ,shall Slather and bay awaiting direction from their masters
* as then ,
* they fall upon us .
* Even the sun wains back at the feel and shadow of their March.
* Our brothers the oaks stand true ,
* as these giants now put breath upon them.
* And so it is ,
* the sacred grove now sent to slumber,
* until the giants and their hounds, call for retreat.
* The longest night approaches and no advance can be made in our labours,
* For the ground is now of stone and freezing fire ice .
* We shield their attack with fur cloaks , glowing hearths and summers blessed mead .
* Our friends, family and forgiven foes gather and give thanks to the old year and for its bounty.
* Calls for the sun to return and warmth for the soil ,
* echo amongst all present .
* In the coming born year may our land , wives , and beasts be fruitful.
* Now darkness is abound,
* but for this bastion of kindred folk , the hounds of winter now tearing at the door , scream their howling and send their cold and shrills, about this protected steading .
* Grandfather places his knowing hand upon a beam "The carved runes in this lintel shall keep the frost wolves from our door, since ages past, and so mote it be" .
* All nod and agree at this given truth.
* But
* Not but for the silver light of our lady would we know anywhere else existed this darkening , he exclaims ! .
* A drum starts to beat softly as the crones of this gathered tribe begin to chant .
* Our oldest tribe member steps forward, for on this night they will carry the youngest in their arms .
* Together it will be their honour to sing for the log of Yule to then be consumed by this ,
* our holy fire .
* As the longest night starts its ending and the folk kneel beside the sacred glow messages are shouted to those who have passed through the great veil .
* They hear our shouts of love and joy , they hear us call their names as we tell them , "all is well ".
* We send our gratitude ,thanks and blessings may they be,
* as we have been, on this longest of all nights
The Teacher boomed "Girls Curtsy" now "Boys Bow".
"Learn your Etiquette, Ladies first Gentlemen".
"We do not run we are not a herd of cattle, Now single file !"
"You Mr Smith will hold the door !, Thank you sir"
We filed threw the door unlike cattle as best we could.
Young Mr Smith falling promptly into the end of the line.
The girls giggled at us boys, as it seemed we were most in need of discipline.
And now to add to our disgrace we must, I must, keep from becoming violently ill.
For today we will learn to dance with Girls !
Behold the Gymnasium, the fetid hall of Torture, First Dodge-ball and now this Humiliation. Under the glaring lights of the Gymnasium devilish eyes gleamed across the way as they separated boys from girls.Damn their souls !, Begone ye pony-tailed and frilly spawns of Satan !
If only a deathly rain of frogs would find this an opportune moment to appear.
With their Ghastly shrills they would scatter to the winds like dandelion seeds !
But protected they were, the roof held steady and appeared it would for quite sometime.
They then paired us off, boy-girl, boy-girl, no chance to protest it was done.
I stood there holding her hand, staring at the back of her curly red hair.
She turned and smiled then shrugged, looking away so I would not turn to stone.
The Teacher sneered with fiendish delight and clapped her hands "Now Begin !"
Music filled the air and the frilly beast grabbed my other hand and pulled me towards her."Step-Step-Step-Left-Step-Step and Right, Boys pay attention !"
Slightly above the music I could hear groans from my fellow tortured souls.
We drug our feet desperately hoping for a Fire drill, The A-bomb, anything to end this nightmare ! The clock ticked slowly away and finally it came to an end, Death did not come we lived on.
The Redheaded Demoness turned to me "You did good" she said, and walked away to rejoin the giggling herd. Several days later a note appeared tapping on my shoulder, from the (Redheaded Demoness) "I like you do you like me Y/N" it read. It was over for me, my journey through the light had come to an end and into the darkness I fell as I pressed down with my #2 Pencil and circled (Y).
At ten o’clock each morning, the Barley Tavern opens up its door,
and every now and then I saunter down, just making sure,
that Ken the barman hasn’t slept in, so he might need a call,
to satisfy those with the D.T.’s with their backs against the wall.
There was Cec who had some problem that gave him a raging thirst,
and Pud an ex-trucker that from the grog was surely cursed,
as was Mal the one time hero of the Tavern’s hookey class,
but at ten o’clock on week days, they all hold a shaking glass.
Although once that first beer hits the lips, life is all brand new,
so with steady hands and addled brains they hop in for a few,
and give some cheek to Granny Smith, the Barley Tavern’s kitchen staff,
who likes to get into mischief, as long as it gives here a laugh.
Granny’s trained to live upon her wits as pub cooks mostly are,
once boozing tongues are loosened up from smart Alecs at the bar,
and I chuckled at the comments that were thrown by Pud and Cec,
but Granny didn’t seem herself today, in fact she looked a mess.
Her hair looked like it needed brushing, and her eyes were glassy too.
She wore a frown upon her face, and I’d say she’s had a few.
I must admit that I was worried; Granny’s usually carefree,
so when she staggered to the kitchen, she needed my therapy.
But before I had a chance to help her, a young bloke stepped inside .
He was panicking I tell you, before with me he did confide.
“My Grandma works somewhere in here,” and held up her headache pills.
“She’s picked up the wrong pill bottle!” Granny’s grandson loudly shrills.
I calmed the lad down just a mite, and I led him from the bar,
and found Granny in the kitchen who’d took up a boxing spar.
“Gran! Gran!” the kid yelled out, “those pills you took from home are mine!”
But Granny Smith just threw a left, and yelled “get out you flamin’ swine!”
“Now Gran” her grandson added, “Will you hand back those pills to me.
I’ve written on the label with a texta, the letters L-S-D.”
I nearly had a heart attack, and Granny uttered quite bazaar,
“Stuff your bloody pills young man- chase out the dragons in the bar!”
Staff rod in hand, and on my feet a pair of good hardy leather shoes
Set off onto the bight coastal track to a view of many colourful hues
In four score plus nine of my years; not a day to me ceases to amaze
Scattered along the ridge line, sheep idle away their days, they graze
As marram grass sways anchoring the sand brought by the sea wind
I listen to the deafening sounds of the seagulls their shrills ingrained
This land, my land as one of my forefather’s son’s, my claim of proof
As far as my eye can see and as far as the cattle can roam their hoof
A legacy given to me by God and by my hands my toil it shall remain
No false deceiver shall walk her, come proclaiming a lie shall he feign
Each animal upon her lives its life in freedom until their time is called
Before slaughtered with respect, and placed upon the table sprawled
With thanks and praises given to the bellies it is now given to nourish
Bones grounded down, and returned to this earth, in which to flourish
In turn the animals eat the greener grass its wealth to them unknown
This is the cycle of life, it by my forefather’s father to son been shown
A seal pup on the shore cries ardently for its mother it wants to be fed
Scottish folklore that seal Selkies as fill the shore fears folk with dread
Shep the sheep dog though not original in name scurries the dry grass
Upsetting the grouse and long tailed pheasants as they limber on pass
Pleasant is this land given in its wonderment and awe, its beauty score
As musical notes of each animal and creature in tune across this shore
This balance of nature cannot in anyway be understated, or be ignored
This certitude between heaven and earth, and its ever eternal life cord
Rests upon my shoulders, its weight, is more as embedded in my heart
As I idle the bight pathway of this coast, until it’s time for me to depart
My dried and cracked salted spray leather shoes shall be left then to lie
My staff left standing in the hallway and with my dog resting I shall die
The bright Christmas lights on my city house are so colorful and traditional,
hopefully when I get my high utility bill I won't become too irrational,
and watching everyone open up their gifts makes me want to sigh,
also hoping that when I get the credit card bills I won't start to cry,
And the Christmas room has edible fumes of the eating variety kind,
with the holiday weight I gain ending up in my butt and thighs,
while getting a white Christmas is something I always wished for,
but not slipping on the slippery steps when walking out the front door,
A different group of Christmas carolers singing out front in my yard,
all of them sounding very off key like a cat getting strangled,
and not having money to give them gave them some pie I baked,
most of them getting sick from it Betty Crocker I aint,
Going Christmas shopping and getting stuck in the holiday traffic,
and trying to find a parking spot at the mall was really quite baffling,
having to sit there and wait till I saw a shopper getting ready to leave,
another car beat me to the spot while I sat there and sneezed,
So I decided to move far away from the hustle and the bustle,
wheres all I have to worry about is what is that woodland noisy rustle,
could be a black bear, coyote, wolf or a moose,
and when I get my mail every day have to run so they don't bite my big caboose,
But thats ok I'm starting to feel at home for the holidays in the hills,
getting used to the 8 foot snow drifts and the night time animal shrills,
while getting into my vehicle can be quite an ordeal,
running like a fugitive till I get inside of it in my camouflage gear,
But I have a plan B just in case living in the hills doesn't all work out,
I'll just move to Florida where the humidity and big bugs will bother me no doubt,
where I'll buy my own little house hopefully sinkhole free and keep it fumigated,
and pretend to have a white Christmas even though its 85 degrees out while getting chased by an alligator.
Happy Holidays Everyone!
12-24-16
One cold night, deep in thought, and curled in fright,
From folklore tales aimed to scare;
My rigid poise froze to a screeching noise
Outside, a voice not like I've heard before, to leave I would not dare
“It’s probably just an owl or creature of the night out there"
I muttered to myself, then pretended not to care
Oh, I recall quite vividly this icy Winter’s night
With grainy sight, the sandman came to lead me to his land
The weariness I fought but eventually he caught
Pulling me quite taut to somewhere far less bland
Where I became the leader of a marvellous brass band
And down that path sandman tightly gripped me by my hand
Trumpeters and trombone players played musically in layers
Exciting each and everyone, spreading joy to all around
But my dreams were playing tricks, my mind was in a mix
The bass tuba sounded sick, not playing tuneful sounds
Instead a grating shrill, then the whining of a hound
The lightning and the rain came too, my dream then ran aground
Alone I grew more frightened and the intensity just heightened
The shrieks and shrills grew louder with an occasional thunder clap
Taking sanctuary under bed sheets, preying for melodic sound beats
Suffering this painful feat, my soul took a massive slap
Oh how I longed for it to stop and to return me to my nap
The bleakness of that night, my mind caught in a trap
Morning later broke, the ground outside was soaked
The noise had faded but there was still a haunting in my ears
A crunch, a grind, a squeak a whine
The cause I vowed to find, and to take away my fears
From the upstairs window I saw a farmer crouched in tears
And a windmill's broken sails; the mystery closure neared
Across the muddy field, I approached the man kneeled
Sobbing over what appeared to be a dead Alsatian
He'd found it just lying there, the hound, his best friend
Downed by a falling windmill piece, killing gods creation
"A slow death" the farmer said "he must have cried out for attention"
"And my mill cranks broken causing noises of a nauseating sensation"
Waking up to sordid days,
under these clouds.
On the journey of life,
the life of dreams.
On feeble grounds reaching impossible,
heart’s in recess, a love is pending.
I hope, as my past marred my blessed future.
Mirage!
Reality is blurred, can’t get a glimpse of serenity.
Overcoming life’s challenges;
I sit in Ambient
I see the sounds I cannot hear
I feel the laid manners on the dinning table
I lie on the mat ,pondering on re-commitments.
I see savory fragrance fleets in an airy trance.
I dream of sugar coated skies dripping succulent honey comb rains.
I live through,
On dreams and on prayers.
I feel the perfect picture of thousand shades of hues,
Yet my ears can’t come in tune with melodic songs of the morning birds.
I see shadows ,
one shadow in the dark with the noise of its feet colliding with inert rays from the moonlight piercing through from the spaces between the door hinges.
Echo!
The lyrics of an unknown song revert.
Semi – ambient tune with an unfamiliar key notes cordiform in oblivion.
I feel being numb, the jagged thoughts embedded in this mind.
Rancid shrills pierce through my soul rendering me blunted on reality
Flee!
The egos of fierce rational discourse of falsehood and illusion.
I laid defaced and distaste within its breeze swelling in divergent eclipse of haunted ambience.
I know not where the dark recedes but I heard a pleasant voice amongst the noise
So I opened the door
To this being
His words?
A light on my feet and a path in these woods.
Slumber fades the dark fleets
Hope calls the fear recedes
Landed at the crossroads
Summed up all my failure stained realities
Washed them in oval graced wells,
not serendipitously sought.
Reality blossoms all illusions burst
Wowed!
How cosmic light has nudged its way Into my life One of life’s privileged decisions,
In tune with eternal bliss.
By way of grace
Grace of victory
A scent of a meaningful bliss
An emotive sensation.
Scents of burnt embers flowing over my windowsills
Charred are the palm tree fronds that
once fanned the breeze
Seized are the pods, timbers
Torches sparking shrills
Behold the ashes drifting
as they fall from my smoke-sooted skies
O but in b 'tween choking and tearing eyes
Bright orange-colored clouds shade
So fiercely they invade
If you look West…
The 'golden glow’ shall arrive
He who heeds the warning
and flits, may survive
A brush fire has lit the landscape
furiously waves its crimson cape
Tangerine smoke suspended in time
surrounds the hills all around me
congesting the natural scenery
Arousing anxiety, anticipating
the scale of the expansion its spreading
Swirling fire, twirling tornadoes
ravishing existence in its pathway
Flames so blinding that align the sunset
In my field of vision – I’ll never forget
Frightful yet surreal,
I hear myself whisper it’s not real
Nonchalantly, Winds sweep in firestorms
Notorious for its name the ‘Santa Anas’
Lingering, its breath; smoggy haze swarms
The brave battle the blaze, corral the flame
As the hills die, an obstinate inferno resurges
"To extinguish life" its aim
Like the Phoenix rising again and again,
but this isn't the Phoenix
it is something sinister
Guide us along the road to a safe place
Away from the drought,
O home, there is not a trace
Chaos turns on every cornerstone
I’m back where I started, I atone
Circling all areas, as others do —I do
With nowhere to flee vs warnings to eschew
Perhaps I’ll make it to the highway
with westbound caravans I’ll stay
There I’ll keep alive
If you just look to the West…
The ‘Orange glow’ (fire) has arrived!
I'm but a frail bird tasked to bring hope and spread peace.
How shall I fly high in the sky with such a brittle burden!
My heart pounds in dilemma like a ping pong ball as I release
my wings in the air to take a flight at the height of a dark sky.
As dark as it can be, above me, the cauldron-black sky
with scary scars of blazing explosions emitting blinding light.
Beneath me, the brazier ground groaning with an outcry,
shedding tears of sparks that vaporize into nebulous smokes.
In between is the whizzing of weapons, excreting smokes
and urinating radiation that smothers the air with brutality.
Warhead rockets, firing aircraft, missiles, bombs...stoke
the fire of war for the sake of supremacy by killing morality.
Shrills of ruination buried under the roars of madness spree
while the two-legged demons having a bloodbath with big guns.
Colors of bliss faded away and helpless time trying to flee
as achromic misery taints moments with grim stains in gallons.
Ember red blood is the only bold color that flows in streams
dyeing the soil and water with a stench of rotting death.
Once cultivated verdant fields are now burned into coal seams.
Marred by violence, houses crumble like ashes in hearth.
Such horrific images I see all around me as the hearth
of fierce war burns with glaring flames and crackling noises.
I fly, hover and fly with my singed wings as there is a dearth
of safe shelter; my exhausted body trembles with fear.
Would I be able to stop the war? I questioned myself with fear.
Quite a hard-hitting answer I received in the form of a bullet
that pierced my heart and I fell on the ground with tears.
From my smeared blood, poppies bloom around me as I die.
Date: 11/12/2017
Punxsutawney Phil Speaks
A life of Riley, I wallow,
While at the fairground my fans are all gung-ho
Why should I bother to come out of my hollow?
They’re all out there waiting and watching for the verdict
I have the right to object, but they might evict
I am so excited they all wait for me to show now
My gorgeous bod and to take a bow,
For my stunning warm furry rodent performance
And all my noisy whistles, shrills, and sometimes my happy grunts
Should I keep wallowing in my hollow?
Or let them suffer by seeing my strikingly attractive shadow
And let them think they have six more weeks of winter or bring
Them at ease and be kind and do my duty and let them have spring
Or be the star of the day and be honored
To parade me around raise over their shoulders while cheered and be bantered
My fans dance, rise, analyze, and criticize
With the blinding display of light exploding in from of my eyes
I come out to make my debut, but a shadow I saw and with shrieks
Ran back in my hollow to wallow another six weeks
1/16/2015
Sponsor: John Lawless
Contest: Punxsutawney Phil Speaks