Long Spooking Poems
Long Spooking Poems. Below are the most popular long Spooking by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spooking poems by poem length and keyword.
Beneath the city the river fishing is good.
I roam with tackle and pole below those wiggling tapeworms
Wound around the cement underbelly of bridges
Devouring the guts of the city’s glamour
Down here where shadows are long as green moss
And the voices of old black dudes echoes to casts
“Damn motherer, you crossed my line!”
Splash.
To catch catfish on a wad of bread is a worthy fight.
It takes shoulder chest and wrist and it’s not just the fish
But the current of the Grand River pulling us over
That sucks us in like a Thanksgiving ladle
Into a whirlpool of brown gravy spilled on a dinner table.
The trouble with catfish is that they swallow the hook
Beyond the use of pliers
And when they’re too small
We cut the line
With a lack of guilt like Old Testament God
Throwing the creature back
Hoping for a miracle.
Logs are tipped over along the gooey shores
And upon them painted turtles sleep
Sunning like leprosy sores.
Even from down here in the cool mist umbrella from summer
We can see the smokestack vapor
Twisting overhead like a genie rubbed from its lamp
Thin at its head thick at its feet still stuck in its copper mother
Arms outstretched like a Christ-cloud spooking the sun.
There are other mysterious pipes
Lips rust red as strawberries
Bloomed from the banks dripping silver
While mouthing a lullaby
To the muck
Like a whore at the end of her exhausting shift.
A railroad bridge rattles to life
Swollen by the axles of its returning soul
A freight train pounding out the Blues
A rhythm meant for bass and drums
That part we don’t sing
But the swing that keeps our foot stomping
And in that noise
Software girls flutter about like orange ribbons
Untied from the hair of the downtown towers
Drifting along the river trails at lunch
Jogging in pony tails and pink shorty shorts
Fingertips stuck into their cotton ears
Ever on the lookout for us
The creeps.
The trick is to not make eye contact
I mean us with them
The fishermen the engineers the long forgotten wrenches
Screwing cranks turning knobs yanking hooks from helpless fish
Drilling the pylons through chemical gold
That holds up this magnificent city.
The rocks crumbled underfoot
As I descended into darkness
Eventually my phone became a guiding light
Leading me further into the depths
Eventually I came to the end
And shined my light on wall
There were words etched in stone
Words left behind by me years ago
Prophetic in nature they foretold struggle
And fights with depression
Words of encouragement were needed
To prevent me from finding the noose
A droplet of water fell upon my head
Spooking me so that I dropped my light
The screen went black and I knew only darkness
But really I knew darkness before that
Darkness had seeped into the depths of my soul
Where little light was to ever be found
For this cave was in fact a figment of the mind
Residing within my soul
An epiphany perhaps filled my thoughts
A realization that I control this place
The cave lit up like a Christmas tree
And I realized I created my own darkness
But I could also create my own light
If I had the fortitude to seek it
The rocks crumbled underfoot
As I ascended into the light
Before it’s too late
Distant bells clatter on cloud fed weathered skies where
darkness creeps past low light vestibules, faded beams flicker
Short skirts wave in a winter wind, breezy attributes
revealing fishnet thighs calling to the next hidden passenger,
batting lashes and blowing bubbles of stale gum placed under
crushed velvet seats worn in places, stained deliberately
for bragging rights and handkerchief blotting
A ghostly mist lingers as lips are touched up, bright red, crimson,
shades of desire, occupational decisions, advertisements leaking
into sewers and hopscotch squares spread along the avenue
Silhouettes in porch lanterns, whistling…so unladylike, ducking
constables with nightsticks swinging like the clapper in those damn bells
waking the unsuspecting and spooking the transients offering
a few coins for a ten dollar dream
Swine wallows in last week’s gossip, slimy little beings
fat on sausage and biscuits, cursing the rats pushing their way in
below curtains and kitchen windows framing inquisitive eyes,
watching cash change hands and satisfied smirks
on the faces of those wiping feet on mats,
greeting the family in disguise, shirt un-tucked,
long day rewards and dinner on the table
Yesterday’s newspaper tumbles down the walk,
clinging to sign posts, featuring headlines of death, a warning in bold print,
still at large, a menace to society in a grey overcoat,
double breasted and fancy shoeprints in the fresh mud
No further traces except the body, contorted and frozen, smeared faces
littering cobblestone gutters, frightening children and pets,
as passersby look to second floor balconies, oblivious
Midnight calls, staggering drunkards exit Chauncey’s,
hard up and spent, slurred laughter, boisterous to hide worries
and tomorrow’s jobs, time clock lies and penciled in wishes
Iron fence posts rust at the gateway as they glance to the headstones
of friends long past and recent memories, sensing the urge,
seeing the painted nails and low cut blouses, thinking…
before it’s too late
While from a secluded archway…
"Another 150 Illinoisans have lost their lives in the last 24 hours
May each of their memories be for a blessing
2,240 residents have tested positive for the virus
Another 365 new hospitalizations were recorded
730 people are on ventilators...
"These are real people, who have and had real lives
So, the virus is out there. It is among us
Stay inside your homes. Please!
Only go out for essential trips...
"Make sure to wash your hands thoroughly
for at least 30 seconds, with soap
whenever you touch exposed skin or a foreign object
Multiple hand-washing is the message here...
"And wearing a mask at all times out-of-doors
is key in mitigating the virus
I just can't stress that enough
Don't forget social distancing either
Stay at least six feet away from the person
with whom you are interacting...
"I'm the last person in the world who wants these restrictions
I'd like to open up the state as much as you would
Yet the the statistics don't lie. And though
we're flattening the curve
the virus is still out there
It is among us..."
I could give the daily speech by heart myself
Thank you, Governor Pritzker, for spooking me
and so many other law-abiding Illinoisans who have
been foolish enough to buy into your extended lockdown
For which you had no legal authority, whatsoever --
Bully!
And which, by the way, didn't apply to your family
Your wife and kids hopped on a plane and flew to Florida
to your tawny vacation home ---
Stay at home, my foot! ---
Hypocrite!
I hate going outside with my mask and gloves
I hate going shopping or to the pharmacy
I hate going for a walk in the park
It's all on you, Mr. Pritzker
May you reap
What you've sown...
And after the next election
May your memory be for a blessing
My best friend was on the phone,
laughing like a great aunt who had lost her mind
“Joe thought it was dead, but then he saw it making reservations with the dog,” I informed her. “We have a bunch of mice here, many pregnant.
Joe is sleeping outside in the car.
Yes....
My husband of forty-eight years is a bit prissy about small black rodents
full of diseases that run over his foot.
I was in the attic now, a dreary place where I barely dared to put down my lemonade for fear bats would be dive bombing into it or disemboweled entities would be spooking the dog who was crying at the bottom of the steps she cannot climb.
Scritch. Scratch. Scritch. Scratch. Scritch.
I could not tell which pile or garbage bag was making this curious sound.
Raccoons in the attic? Large insane squirrels? A homeless person living with us for the last sixteen years?
“I have to go,” I told my friend. “Family emergency.” I clicked her off.
My friends are okay with my rude ways, choosing to love me anyway.
The noise kept coming.
My attention was suddenly in a corner of a large wiggling garbage bag.
A mouse popped out of the top of it and ran toward me.
Then sixty-two more, a fountain of mice,
running in all directions.
I went downstairs and told my husband there was a black bag I could not lift.
I wandered to the kitchen to fix myself a light lunch, my favorite, a peanut butter, Miracle Whip, lettuce sandwich. I had to scoot two mice off the top
of the peanut butter lid.
But I said "excuse me" of course.
I nearly dropped a gallon of milk when I heard his scream.
I imagine he scared every last rodent out of the house.
Joe is my go-to-man.
(alternately titled: ah me go march'n home on derange)
I'll play the devil's advocate, yet
prepare a stance with pitchfork
against misinterpreted faux attempt
to describe, how whet
d'ya column re: immigration officials coe vet
patrol, police, and poison tranquil casa blanca
where killer attack dogs fiendishly pin set
ting sharp fangs at jugular vein of respectful,
dutiful, and blissful (or at least
prior to being sniffed out) innocent
long time laborer on American soil now get
ting Das Boot to their unfamiliar Motherland
(despite living social
as law abiding righteous folks) fret
full, cuz unfairly punished, and
cruelly deported, dispirited, doomed
pained visage non verbally articulates
at un war rented deportation you bet!
with just a flick of the wrist
and alien hated, pigheaded,
and xenophobic ventriloquist
bring back the Alien and Sedition Acts
with a Trumpeting Latina, Hispanic,
and for good measure Mulatto twist,
where original writ (signed into law
by President John Adams in 1798),
historical footnote, aye cannot resist
spooking (like a ghost), those pee pill
born south of the border pooped and pissed
in potties of this proud country, sans free and brave
now frightfully get flushed out
glad to feign dis guise
as one among select Geronimo cadre
we henchman lubricate
wheels of injustice myst
tuff hie hiding dark shadows
(along the edge of night)
thence paddy wagon comes
to screeching halt nabbing
an "illegal alien" name on hit list
code word "bag dad" (biggest quarry)
and score a win
for Barren Trump Tah Mahal Incorporated
impossible mission special ops sentry slithers as trained
fearless to shackle wetback ranked big hest
catch also including booby prize,
as you correctly guessed.
Ivory pilots night's idyllic sighs,
like timely climbing sky--untying cries,
lights espying irises gliding rise.
Evening lean sleeping,
beacon competing,
concedes pleasing keen scenes,
appealing leaping,
sincere esteeming,
green treat sweetly redeems.
Trailing rays draping shapes,
maple framing trace,
claiming plains facing lakes,
bravely wades gauged space.
Green fields teasing,
--thieving seething,
weeds beseech release,
feel they cheated,
leaves defeated,
ease sense peaceful wreaths.
Yellow roses,
showy floats,
potato groves,
grown rows notes,
tomatoes hold,
closely wove,
flowering show,
sloping globe,
drove lonesome road,
banjo tone,
broken myPhone,
coasting home.
Reeling breezes freely sweep ...
weakened peels, eternal sleep ...
green trees reach needed relief,
complete healing frees fig leaf.
Humans muse Cupid,
blew flutes,
spooking unicorns,
smooth tunes moody blooms,
grew blue,
jewel unique forms.
Severe events fleecing green dreams,
precede teaching seeding extremes.
“Baby, win me a prize at the county fair.”
The smell of funnel cake mingles with the metallic scent of rickety rides. The smoke billowing in the air accents my chills but I still want to be stuck with you at the top of the ferris wheel; It’s trick or treat season, candy is permitted. Sugar highs and sticky lips facing mundane fears; Adrenaline masked by the risk of falling, talking masked by intense screaming, did I give in again? Water gun balloon races, basketballs, and too tall to carry stuffed animals. They all have a feeling of time sensitive anxiety. Bulls and hogs with blue ribbons spooking. Is it a masked ticket vendor or someone stalking the next line breaker?
Beaten horror house,
fiery tilt a whirl spinning;
Wild small town Samhain.