Long Snubs Poems
Long Snubs Poems. Below are the most popular long Snubs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Snubs poems by poem length and keyword.
Celebrity Dreamscapes
Washington
Wall Street
Hollywood
Nashville
Where regurgitation overflows
And Barmecidal bait boxes
Morph their delights by the hour
All the while
Gluttony's promised feast
Ignorant of cyclic famine
Awaits the pernicious fate-agent
Scouting to burrow like a weevil
The new crop of innocence
Trusting destiny to the winds of chance
Confident redolent success smells
French perfume
Garlic enhanced delicacies
Fresh tanned leather of opulent travel
Are theirs to have
How fragrant the illusory air becomes
The temperature of anticipated fortune's shift
Where once a round-shouldered indigent freshman pounded doors
Now seemingly triumphant
Unknowingly erect as a naked rose stem
With yesterday's portent of rich reward
Rapidly sheds its petals
Mulch for tomorrow's next planting
How fleeting the enigmatic feast of notoriety
Time's incumbent qualification
For re-introducing innate principals
Cautioning today's attention
Is but a requisite for tomorrow's elusive truth
Yet
Fearful of fruitless coming years
Too few embrace cognizance over
Fading Klieg lightsParty snubs
Absent red carpet entrances
A maître d's forgetfulness
Yes
The harvesting of one's experience
Might suffer drought and winds
Scattering past efforts
To but memories of dust
Rather than priceless benchmarks
To reveal the authentic self
Yes
Such a disposition may well make "Being" difficult and distant
Where the "take a number and be seated" readout at DMV
May well become a feared test
Where waiting
Becomes a ticking-off-process
Asking if one can hold onto the simpler distant past
Those surprising coming-of-age sensations
The first time rewards of libations' survival
The generous thank you once felt by the first kiss
And yes...
One's elation upon receiving that first driver's license
We think
We review
We ponder "what price" aspiration
Ambition
So often blind to trickery
Frequently stumbles upon start marks
Not meant to be
Distant finishing lines
Not meant to be reached
Still
One can take a number
And eventually hear one's name called
To be who you are...
Or not
“Heady heights..bright neon lights..giddy delights
Arsonists torching the Indian empire
Reputations scorching..awash with brilliant whites
Gilded generation ire… spoils soiled in an oily quagmire
Sailing the conquest crest..Kiwi veneration..scaling Test Everest
Perturbed…wondrous walloping to disturbed lolloping..absurdly dire
Otherworldly umami of the Barmy Army tsunami
Marauding sneers trumpet.. foolish career nadirs..retire
Ghoulish gravity..devoured by a glutinous abyss
Bazball belter depravity..sensationally soured bucolic bliss
Hoodwinking..hasten Black caps helter skelter sinking
Downed & drowned in a bottomless basin..stinking
Hilariously or nefariously bombastic
Bellicose blows vicariously fantastic
Lambasted & larruped..willow wizards’ blizzards
Scary..leery…Kiwis dreary..wary..weary
Boisterously babbling record book pleasing Brook..
Febrile lairy timber & turnstile teasing fairy
Frazzled dreams bedazzled by pyrotechnic memes
Peacocking cavorting with shocking ripsnorter slaughter
Lampooned buffoons marooned…as Jaffas deliriously spill.. festooned just like Seville
Bazball booming batting baritones..delicious blooming blossom
Vicious..nailed..pernicious.. flailed like an impaled pesky possum
Stranded in a leaking latrine…Baz branded..reeking of what could have been
Outrageously courageous…ridiculously sublime at the same time
Flat track thuggery fortuitously free from spin skulduggery?
Cosy club snubs…mandarins’ selectorial sins?
It’s coming home..it’s coming..in Welly on the telly..what we have seen
Prodigal Bazball from South D has already well & truly been"
They’ve spent so much time at home…many a night and day
No traveling, no restaurants…from the experts guidelines they do not stray.
Since they could not physically journey…no traveling to or fro
they decided to travel through time…and oh the places they would go.
They know time has a way of controlling life…
for schedules they do not lack
They know time keeps moving forward and is never moving back.
But they know memory is different…they think of it as one of life’s little jewels.
Memory snubs its nose at time and refuses to embrace her rules.
So they’d go back in time and remember moments when they were children
when all they did was eat and sleep and play…
Specific moments…they’d remember…as if they happened yesterday.
He remembered the first time he said, “I Love You.”
He remembered a feeling so wonderful and new.
He even remembered what he was wearing
when she said…”I Love You, too.”
They remember the day they were married…when their began life anew
They remember so many moments as they grew old together too…
They remembered when their daughter was born…
Holding in their arms…a life so precious and new
and in the next moment they remembered
holding her daughter in their arms too.
So they’ve spent a lot of time together
remembering moments of their life with ease…
forward and backward…flying through time
stacking memories any which way they please.
They say time travel is impossible…
but this couple…now old and gray…
as they sit home during this pandemic…
has somehow found a way
7. “Autumn leaves don’t fall; they fly. They take their time and wander on this, their only chance to soar.” Owens, Delia. Where the Crawdads Sing, Chapter 17: “Crossing the Threshold” (p. 124).
Somberness into existence is not a tumble.
Earth's ever-changing season mumbles.
Longing, pining, and scouring to leap, a sense free.
To beat, rupture of the endometrium of worry.
Find out how to tour this aesthetical orb.
Whatever you might protect is potherb.
Each step will pay off; Earth seems endless.
Maintain in mind her charming prowess.
Without mild radiation, stars would be ablaze.
The sparkle of your eyes makes you in a daze.
Shine bright, we made you for this world.
The zeal of fate, separate yourself from the herd.
It soars, snows, splashes, and seeks shelter.
Grasping beyond, setting up a binding welter.
Fall leaves were reflected on the bright floor.
Is it confined to a life of pain, as to explore?
Will the fall petals retain the bitterness of the shrub?
Was it chopped from moisture roots and snubs?
Are you rebelling over harsh conditions outside?
Or maybe the mood wasn't truly steady inside.
I identify dry autumn leaves with a restless soul.
How are the parts pulled out of the whole?
During leisurely walks. Integrate, and create a flow.
Awareness of the paradox of infinite glow.
Written: December 24, 2022
Feel Free Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sara Kendrick
I'm a sad flower
A beautiful mess
A flawed human I guess
But I'm doing my best
To not ruin your expectations
First it was Elepe and fun
Then GAA and pun
Now the fun and pun are gone
There was a time I felt Indispensible
Everyone said I was sensible
I was unadvoidable and unbeatable
Now, Treasure won't reply my messages
Maybe she feels I still savages
I remembered she warned to stop
But I declined because I felt I was on top
Evangeline won't accept my friend request
Maybe she thinks I'm not the best
or I'm just an amateur like Sergino Dest
Maybe I'm just like the rest
Kenny and T-gentle are now on ghost mode
The new them are cold and code
Whereas the old them where my gold
Divine thinks I now snubs her
If only she knew she means a lot on paper
And that she is one of those few I won't banter
Even when she piss me off like my sister
The hype are gone
It seems Mr fame have withdrawn
Our vision Twenty-One contract was never born
My BITE have move on
The only one who still believes is Philip
From childhood to adulthood we still got a tight friendship
There are times we throw fist when we discuss premiership
But I guess that is the spirit of comradeship
I know the world don't give a about my punchlines
But they would when I start making headlines
By then your call would be buzzing my phone lines
And I would only pick it up when it is nearing the deadlines
Grief comes uninvited, like a marauder,
like a one man army charging,
he makes an unexpected onslaught.
A thief in the dark who comes stealthily,
without pausing to seek permission
and settles in the heart like an intruder
His stay is long and tedious.
He eats away our vitality,
sups on our vulnerability,
sucks our life sap and fattens on our gloom.
Like a tenant who hasn’t paid
a single dime as rent, he invites our wrath!
Even under threat, he would never vacate
It is at night, he revels
and makes the most fierce onslaught
He snubs out our sleep, disturbs our calm
Wide eyed, we have to watch
the nasty antics of this tyrant
He drives out all hope,
battles with our cheer,
evicts all positive vibes,
and invades the entire space.
Weaving sticky gossamer threads
to ensnare all happy thoughts
which come our way and like an ugly spider,
he arrogantly dwells in our heart!
__________________________________
Sept. 11.2022
~ Placed First~
Pick a Title, Vol.32. Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Edward Ibeh
Those that praise my pen too far and quick,
Innocent but perhaps make me weak.
Those that scraps and crumbs about me keep,
Slights and snubs of theirs do make me sick.
Journey’s end— end of all juice we sip,
Thanks Lord, ways of life winding to keep.
Willingly whose shoulders bear huge load,
Repeated rounds on load alas reap.
Showing me the way— where, how to walk,
Stumbling stones do love me all so deep.
Clueless worshipping chants those that rant,
Not vain is devotee’s temple trip.
Better be I feel my bare ego,
Not those that pride’s false airs puffed-up keep.
_____________________________________
In anapaest tri-meter, this piece was inspired by a Gujarati poem by Vicky Trivedi, but is no translation.
Ghazal |07.10.2021| Introspection
Poet’s note: World is nothing but illusion, they say. The ways of this world elude comprehension. What we see is no reality, and the reality is never seen. Apparent contradictions after all may not be so. This poet has a point to make on our world duality.
Far beyond the supermarket workers and the gardeners building their own allotments, the boy soldiers and the coal-miners with dusty lungs, the women helping mould silver bullets for wars and the ministers off with their leather bound Bibles walking through jungles, past the jolly sailor, the fish-wife and the cook. All carrying their little note book.
The blacksmith and the hunter come back again, over the gulf to hunt through the flamey caves, with their knife and the deer.
And somewhere further afield, the star shines bright, the clasp fastens together our tiny pearls, egg to egg through the mother.
A cluster of gemstones rolled, and still rolling, milky marbles on every continent's slant floors, hungry snowballs, gathering photos of diamonds, postcards and jobs, gathering qualifications, silver-grey hairs and snubs, and forgetting, as those who came before us forgot, to bless those who brought us here, who passed us the torch and stepped back. Now we are brighter flames, but not with fire, with the beauty of knowledge.
Every dawn starts an extreme desire
A desire to have her by my side,
May be cuddle her,not even kissing
That alone can quench my thirst for her
I know she doesn't love me
She has proven it severally
But my heart won't listen
It's firm and stubborn for her.
It lures me to calling her at night
To disappointments,no answer
Just like she didn't answer last night
'May be she's doing the dishes'
My heart would murmur to me
But frankly its much late for dishes
'Then may be she's out to pee'
It'd respond quickly.
She snubs me, deliberately
I've seen her go out with Ivan
And yeah,I confirmed they kissed at the party
My best poem ever,I wrote to her last summer,
I found it in the dustbin, ramshackled
She's called me a fool,idiot,gobshite
Moron...let me conceal the rest
But my foolish heart won't listen
It's firm and stubborn for her
It's called desperate love,
May be you're a victim
But your heart just murmured
'Of course you're not'
Just to blindfold you.
What can I do?
Work, work, work ... write, write, write
Pour your dark, deep, love-scarred being out
Put all the imagery, phrasing and thought you know into each line
Craft each word and phrase and stanza with careful creativity
Go the extra mile with each element required
And then go even further - format, title, attending image
Stand back, finally, and be proud of the result
For it is your heart and soul there on paper
Though others may not see it ...
Learn to recognize the excellence and insight
And all that you've invested in that piece of your spirit
Because it's guaranteed in this wonderfully wide and jaded world
That it will be marginalized and snubbed
So take that bitter pill and swallow hard, thus
And let it be the drug to motivate and enrich you
Even more ...
Let disregard be the whetstone ... that sharpens your pen!