Long Shrunk Poems
Long Shrunk Poems. Below are the most popular long Shrunk by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shrunk poems by poem length and keyword.
It was never about the suit,
the charcoal stitching,
the pocket square that folds itself,
the red tie I swore was alive.
At first, it just stood there—
hooves crossed, ears like knives
stabbing into the conference room light.
It never spoke, but no one dared speak over it.
The org charts bent to its gaze.
Quarterly losses shrunk like timothy hay
waiting too long for sun.
I kept my hungry eyes on the llama,
after all, its black-marble stare could polish
a version of the best vision of myself, if I let it:
animal energy tugging at my own red tie,
my voice cracking like a glass ceiling
when I pitched the last idea I was proud of.
Now the llama knows my name.
It signs my emails
and leaves fur in my throat
when I try to say no.
On Tuesdays,
it stands too close
to the mirror in the breakroom,
straightening its tie with my hands,
licking the salt from neck—
its muzzle smelling like a ferment
of wet grass and my sweat.
The interns whisper that it’s a myth,
but they’ve all stopped wearing red.
I now sit at the head of the table,
rubbing my hindquarters with two toes
on the scale, protecting my own
wall-eyed stare. The suit fits better
than I thought.
You can see everyone from here—
their necks, their ties,
the slow nodding of skulls.
The llama was never absurd.
It’s they who look strange now.
Day 1
I sit to write in peaceful solitude,
while words of tranquil eloquence exude
visions of nature's beauty and soft light,
but it's not my muse which has taken flight.
A bastard housefly sails a curvy path,
as irritation grows to rage and wrath.
Essentially, the reason is because
this little jerk emits a galling buzz.
When I think the scumbag's finally stopped,
and I could hear it if a pin were dropped,
the excrement eating insect starts again,
an insidious attack upon my brain.
You would not think a creature who is this small
could find a way to bother me at all,
and yet he drives me completely daft and nuts,
until upon my window, I see his guts.
Day 2
Awaking from a frightful fever dream,
I hear a buzz, and choke down a helpless scream.
The window guts, a subconscious, wishful scene,
before I slept, I missed with the magazine.
One slight move, he's no longer stationary.
Have I misjudged this pint-size adversary?
His flight is like 3-D billiards in the halls,
bouncing off unseen, invisible walls.
Why has this beast chosen me to torment,
to lead me in my sanity's descent
to Hell, a place I would gladly send him
if my worthless Westways could only rend him.
Yet, I said, "fly to the screen door, for once,
and we'll both be free, you insectoid dunce".
A desperate jack o'lantern, I am hollow.
Everywhere I go, he seems to follow.
Perhaps, the little guy has something to say,
tracing the 3-D model of DNA.
Does he buzz the hundred thirty-seventh psalm?
Could it be that last week, I killed his mom?
Day 3
Hopefully, I think the fly's diminished,
and that soon this monster will be finished.
He seems to be flying slowly like he's drunk.
His decibel measure significantly shrunk.
He's fast and young, but he's aging faster,
giving me the better odds to plaster
him. Who will be victorious in the end?
On whose nerves are made of steel, it will depend.
Day 4
Dead on the floor, two haggard creatures lay.
In one's hand, "you're just like a summer's day".
At the breakdown of ages man disappears and reappears
In the form of an easy-to-use scheme
Over the last half-century, man has been replaced
By technocratic ideas of what a man is
But the real man can no longer fit into these forms,
which have shrunk like old clothes.
At the breakdown of ages, man is left to himself.
Politicians and their servants are becoming more paranoid,
Which isn’t surprising at all, and the common
Become even more apolitical than before.
At the breaking of the ages, there is a time of no time.
Reality postulates wars, destruction
and the breaking of ties for nothing,
But simply by virtue of political games,
Their uncontrollable inertia of enmity.
Enmity has no calculated cost, and no rational reason,
Proposed justifications only multiply sorrowful nonsense.
Politicians want admiration, no matter the context,
Common people want to be left alone
At least in the negative sense of peace
Criticise us all you want, just leave us alone
If we're so unteachable, then don't teach us,
Go teach your children instead, save your time
Don't adopt or foster us, for God's sake.
Take all your money, grab us with taxes, spend it as you like,
Run secret emissions if you don't have enough money.
Declare yourself champions of the universe
In all your favourite genres, fests, competitions.
Award yourselves whatever prizes you like,
Just don't impose for the zillionth time
Your legalised insanity to us plebs,
We're not your doctors or patients.
Complain to God, MP, GP, journalist, priest
About our impenetrable stupidity, just get off our backs.
Lock yourselves in some suitable metaphysics,
Tell in the school textbooks about you, the greats
About your heroic struggle for our freedom
In choosing a bank and an insurance company.
All power ends with aging and loss of meaning.
The survivors of your era
Will go by about their business looking at their phones
Past your pigeon pooped statues
And for the younger generation
You will be just a line they’ll be forced to remember
At the history exam, settled as if on purpose
For momentary forgetting right after passing.
DROOPED LOTUS
Days back lovey abloom lotus
was at focus
of fluttering butterfly and humming bees
in rapture to capture
fragrance and nectar.
Now lotus drooped with shrunk wrinkled petals
floats on marshy mossy low pond.
Swarm of flies assemble
on bosom of withered blossom.
Willow standing on wet muddy brim
mourns in silent scream
weeping watching dry deceased flower
abandoned by bees and butterflies.
A voice whispered at 1 am.
As I sit alone at the worn gates of Yesterday
Looking through the Past's
White painted windows
Unafraid
Lost in deep thoughts as I watch once lost memories
Drive past like a new presidential JFK motorcade
Looking closely at the happy and sad games
We once played
You and me
Eventually
Holding hands tightly
Whilst the ungodly
Gossiping band
Loudly played
As our Titanic slowly sunk
I can still see
Reflected in your deliciously dark eyes
The night I surrendered
A magical night
I'll always remember
But as all things
In my cursed life
Everything changed as
The metaphorical iceberg struck
And our love slowly drowned as it
Shrunk
That seemingly endless night we once shared
Is it now torn beyond all repair
You were once all I ever needed
And will never forget
But as I still live in here
Wandering through the Alabaster Hall
Of The Great In-Between
I will always write your beloved name
Using beautiful syllables
In my eternal book of spells
Beside other failed dreams
Called
The Grimore of Light
Filled with Dark Regrets
Where you'll forever live
As I sometimes sit at the gates of yesterday
Once again
Wandering through green fields of yellow memories
Still clinging onto fragments of your sensuous silhouette
Somewhere
If you can hear me
I hope our old love
Still in your heart as in mine
Holds forever strong
With memories of me
As it too
Pirouettes
Before it too enters your
Grimore of Light
Filled with Dark Regrets
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
I was pretty cranky when my spanky new bike was janky.
The frame was too short for my body, too tall and lanky.
The tires too fat, too hard to push up boggy maintain trails.
The deal I got clearly a lemon janky, all wrapped in hanky-panky.
The bike looked so nice out of the box, its chrome frame so glint and shiny.
The first sign of trouble was rust on the chain, which made me angry.
Squirts of oil needed on chain and axles, to make pedaling smooth.
Front and rear nuts needed tightening, else wheel retention was dicey.
I set off for ride, bike all fixed up and ship-shaped I hoped,
but the brakes did not work when handle grips I groped,
Disaster averted, just in nick of time, by dragging my feet on ground.
The handle bars were loose, the seat too nippy on bum, but some how I coped.
Back home from first ride, mad as hell, I swore I would return the heap of junk,
I found the guarantee and read the fine print, but my hopes were sunk
when I read that the bike could only be returned to get full refund,if never ridden!
So I’m stuck with my Jekyll janky skunk of a bike, deal a flunk, ego shrunk.
Moon sleeps long wrapped in cozy quilt of chilly fogs,
Earth is engulfed in thick black carbon-canopy;
Trees ghosts-like; birds black-hole shaded; loud growl of dogs,
The scene is as silent as a dream fantasy...
Grow-caws cooled; cock-craws chocked; cattle clemently calm;
Buds of roses and sunflowers snore and sleep still;
Snails and worms shrunk betwixt fallen leaves and twigs, warm,
Cold seems handicapping even hearts of goodwill...
Bells feebly heard; the village church is very far;
As our bullocks are unwell, we may need to walk;
There's joy, when young and old - all together way-fare,
Merrily walk telling tales and season's talk...
Come, join us, share the happiness, Jesus is born!
Partake in Christmas joy, though we might walk till morn!
21 December 2021
Listen up, y'all, got a tale to tell
'Bout an elephant that time almost forgot
Not your average jumbo, this one's special as hell
Sicily's very own pint-sized lot
Evolved on an island, cut off from the rest
Shrunk down through the ages, adaptation at its best
Three feet tall at the shoulder, a miniature beast
Roaming ancient Med, from west to east
Mammuthus Falconeri, that's the scientific name
But "Sicilian dwarf" is its claim to fame
Lived alongside humans, back in the day
Till climate and hunters made it fade away
Picture this pachyderm, the trunk still proud
Tusks like daggers, but not as endowed
Compact and sturdy, built for island life
Surviving droughts and prehistoric strife
Some say its bones sparked legends of old
Cyclops and giants, or so we're told
Greek myths born from fossil finds
Ancient elephant skulls boggling minds
Now it's gone, extinct, wiped from the Earth
But its story lives on, for all it's worth
A reminder of nature's wild design
And how isolation can refine
So next time you think elephants are all the same
Remember Sicily's dwarf, playing Evolution's game
Proof that life finds a way, big or small
In nature's grand scheme, there's room for all
Sicilian elephant, we sing your song
The memory of you will carry on
In museum halls and science books
Reminding us to take second looks
At the wonders that once roamed this land
Before time swept them away like sand
Extinct but not forgotten, your legacy's set
Tiny titan of the Mediterranean
A gaggle of Mad Scientists
Shrunk me down in size
Placed me in a tiny syringe
Injected me into a woman's mind
They gave me special instructions
While there to look around
Report back to them immediately
All the mystery's to be found
I entered into this giant room
Dozens of doors surrounding the sides
I believe to be the main control center
I am a man in a woman's mind
(Wait a minute...that doesn't sound right)
I skip the rooms RESENTMENT, JEALOUSY,and GOSSIP
No need to open those
I've seen what they can do to a person
Best to keep them locked and forever closed
I come to the door labeled SEX
Being a man I try the knob first
Of course it's locked so I knocked and knocked
Go figure, there was no answer...
Before I realized what I was doing
I opened the door labeled NAGGING
All my ears hear is Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah
What in the world was I even thinking
I may be crazy but I ain't stupid
I also pass by the door I'M UGLY, I'M FAT
Why can't women see what the rest of us see
The inner beauty that they all seem to have
Right next door is the room that holds her feelings
I've never been so scared in my life
I do this in the name of science
And for the better of all mankind
As soon as the door swings open
I immediately break down and cry
I've got all of these mixed emotions
And I don't even really know why
I'm not sure if science was ready for this
As I climb out the ear canal blocked by a phone
Not much that a man can do in there
Best to leave well enough alone
A hornet’s nest buzzes within her head,
nails her down with stings of poison,
head reels, gyrates and spins.
Hated, reviled and bitterly denounced,
cruelly slandered and abused,
at the scaffold, she stands!
A vast sea of people before her;
flooding out into places
farther from the centre
stretching as far as the eyes could see.
The milling crowd hoots.....!
The blazing sun darts down arrows of splint.
Her sky has shrunk into the size of an umbrella,
but giving no shade
Even the elements bellow her annihilation
She wants to cry out for help,
but her mouth, stitched shut like a wound
She feels the nightmare of a helpless fly,
caught in the web of a spider
Within her, swelled grief like a river
What wrong did she do....?
On being washed down
through the stinking gutters of poverty
like a worm she tried to crawl up!
While all other doors lay shut,
saw one with open hinges giving her easy access
She found a niche,
painted her figurine everyday
in colours of others’ choice,
and danced to the pull of the puppet master.
The siren sounds announcing her death!
* * * *
She closed her eyes
Sudden was the transmutation-
Heaven’s fire was lit in her breast
God has heard her silent screaming
The angels of heaven shall soon escort her
to a heavenly hall with aureate roof and glazed floors
and the celestial choir shall ever resonate in her ears!
Nov.18.2022
~ Placed Second~
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