Long Spy Poems

Long Spy Poems. Below are the most popular long Spy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spy poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member The Spy Who Loves Me & the Hungarians

I was sitting in sub-zero temperatures in the Northern Arctic
As one does when you're a Swedish spy 
Caught between conflicting ethical codes...
Stuck in my tent I stumbled upon a poem 
Pondering the experience of Hot British Tea.
The poem was long and decorous with adjectives.
My lips were stuck and frosted together in parts
As I murmured along with teeth chattering 
With the rhythm of an African cheetah.
Though the words buttered into my soul.
"Steep," "simmering," "piping," and "warming"
Warmed my innards and radiated outward,
The imagination muscling forth the reality.
"SNIP!"
"SNIP!"
"SNIP!"
Crikey. Long-ranged silencers. I've been found.
(Hungarians.)
"SNIP!"
"SNIP!"


Devotion Poem, This Painting I Do

*** This Painting I Do ***
                        (A Devotion Poem for Jim)

It is my heart
Painting your portrait
Out over this paper
After I caught your profile, 
When you weren’t looking,
Casting your attention
In another direction,
While I blended in
The colors of your chin,
And you hadn’t known that
I’d peeked over 
Your well-kept
Walls of mystery, which
Usually…no, always even I 
Do not cross…But
Today the artist, I,
Let my sight spy
To set down the contour lines
Of your portrait, which
I promise when completed 
To then hide this artwork 
From the view of anyone else:
Beneath a cross-hatched weave 
Of a thousand tiny strokes
Of glittering beams of gold,
And shining rays of silver,
Stippled stars overall to consume 
You — silhouetted by all the light
Of God’s gracing and
My loving heart’s way 
Of seeing you.


———————————————————————————————
(C) sally young eslinger 12/10/2022
Thanks be to God…



———————————————————————————————
(C) sally young eslinger 12/10/2022
Thanks be to God…

Lament Of The Patriotic Whistle Blower

A Chinese Sonnet

They call me impimpi*,a word fraught with scorn and smoke-
Yet I am the echo of truth inside the brewing storm,
Engaging the law,though no law guards me,
A river trembling by myself and singing my song.

Mount Moorosi keeps my secret vigil high,
While comrades who danced once for freedom's flame,
Are now com tsotsis who trade justice for comfort and coins,
And call betrayal what was birthed before courage,
From Kanaland to Zululand:I love Mzansi enough to bleed,
Love is treachery and betrayal,-love is truth, love is the light,
Still,I am unseen, they can unalive me-I shadow the moon, 
My corpse lies,humming Freedom's hymn under the nations' feet.


*Impimpi or mpimpi---A S African term for a snitch or police informer
Mount Moorosi---A town in Lesotho
Kanaland---A munucipality in Western Cape Province in South Africa
Mzantsi---A colloquial term for South  Africa
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member To the Nines

Dressed to the nines, but with a lethal twist,
her cover blown, enacts her exit plan.
Those lips, a deep vermillion, never missed;
cotillion entrance stops hearts for a span.
A needle in the bracelet at her wrist…

With subterfuge to rival a MacBeth,
a poise belies her young and tender age.
Bare balanced on a blade ‘twixt life and death,
a china doll conceals a tiger caged.
Eyes locked on him, there’s murder on her breath.

She smiles, and with those eyes, the trap is sprung.
Embracing her, the prick is never felt.
Then pressing in, he forces past her tongue;
in mock response, she firmly clasps his belt, 
glides to a chair - one down, the night is young.

—————-

for the THREE STANZA POEM IN QUINTAIN (SICILIAN) Poetry Contest
sponsored by Milt Hankins
written on 10/07/22
© Jeff Kyser  Create an image from this poem.

The Spy and The Slave

The spy and the slave, worked to make the world domination of the King. One world order, under the King, making many fall to the knee. 
The King was working a long-term plan, they had seeded for years and was waiting for the harvest, of all the crops he had planted. Making many not see the plan. 
The King made a ring of people, and had them spy on the going on in each location. Like the birds in the sky, each slave was made to spy on the current events of the day. 
The spy and the slave, worked together making a list of each person, making the attack easier when the moment became available. 
The spy and the slave, worked building a community and network to have in place, making no way to run when they came. 
They closed all the exits, for people to run, making the situation become very serious. 
The people were caught off guard because they lacked knowledge of what was coming. They placed their trust with people who lacked any kind of knowledge. 
The King made his broadcast, and off they went, using social media to connect, and bend people to his will. Using words of love to lure people into the King, but really their was no love he had to give. 
The King was clever using words to bend people to his will, using love to lure and grooming making many fall under his power. Like a sword, words can make a cut that can separate people from their life. 
Many died and some became slaves, having fallen from all the failures to secure. 
Lifting prayers to God, today and always. May we never become slaves to any King.
Form: Rhyme


Spy In the Sky

Freaking us out
Drones you know
There in the air
Just beware
Way up high
Spy in the sky
Cameras filming
Our secret lives
 
 
 
 
Trespass our land
And Cities too
Must get my gun
This drones’ through
Snapping away
Pictures of you
On the internet
Their loaded too
 
 
Well I heard a buzzing
Looked up high
Hovering around
Was a spy in the sky
 
 
 
 
Drones everywhere
Flying about
Surprized stars
Get caught out
Well I spy
This flying eye
Can’t sunbath
Watching the sky
 
 
 
 
Makes you angry
Gives us chills
In the papers
Stars ordeals
Can’t even have
Just one day
Of calm and peace
Relax and play
 
 
Well I heard a buzzing
Looked up high
Hovering around
Was a spy in the sky
 
 
 
 
© Copyright KC.Leake
29th May 2015
All Rights Reserved
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Eye Spy

There was once an old woman,
Who lived in a small village,
Her name was Matilda Schoeman
Like Popeye, she only ate spinach!
One day she went to her Pastor,
To confess that her neighbor was
Always nude,
This is a chapter
Of my life I don’t want to end
Father, am I being rude?
The Pastor came to her house to see,
Saw nothing, oh yes, said she, but if you 
Stand On my toilet seat
And put a milk crate on top, and kneel
On one knee,
I can see his weenie, now am I a cheat,
For I feel it’s a treat!
My eyesight is not so good, can not
Always see,
And do not recognize who he may be,
The Pastor looked up to heaven with glee,
So you don’t know said the Pastor,
And put down his half-finished
Cup of tea 
Just continue to knit said he,
And under his breath said, thank you God 
She does not know that the 
Nude man is me!

POTW 28/11/2020

Premium Member I knew a spy

I knew a spy who told me her truths.
She told me her lies so I could never surmise where the line lies, the line of the spy. The words and the eyes. The live and the die. The strange life it must be, the life of a spy.

I knew a spy who lived life a lie. Gambled with fate as easy as choosing the food that she ate. And would look at the dark like it was light. Would stand in the rain to camouflage the tears from her eyes. To stand in the rain to wash away the pain. 

I knew a spy who would to me wink with her eye. Carrying a smile with long flowing hair and stylish in the clothes that she’d wear. But never a line did she cross. 
Her life was a line, a line as sharp as a knife.

I knew a spy,  I wonder where the sun shines on her smile. I wonder where the real person is free. What she gave to serve her country. I know she’s alive from the cards and messages I see with my eyes. But can she ever be free? I know that life wasn’t for me.

Premium Member Super Fly Spy

On the wall of a house I might be
Owned by *Brangelina Jolie.
There’s no real reason why.
I’m just one nosy fly.
Not to mention, Brad nude I might see!

House to house in each fine neighborhood
I’ll spy like a super fly should.
An “enquiring” mind,
Lots of scandal I’ll find.
As I fly over all Hollywood.

When I tire of the “stars,” I’ll fly to
Any place juicy plots might ensue.
Just beware. Flies like me
Are as sly as can be.
Right now I am looking at you!

*Brangelina refers to the coupleship of Brad & Angelina
I'm assuming they are still together?

For the Contest by Michael J. Falotico:
"A Fly on the Wall"
Form: Limerick

Premium Member From the Authors Desk-Good Knight Original Bond

We lost a special guy  

Worked secretly as a spy  

Sean Connery was his name  

Acting smooth in a manipulative game  

Taking a character from literature  

Making it good looking using a moving picture  

Getting attention  

Using the latest invention 

That was not a flying car  

Whose driver is still a living star  

Appearance very calm  

Stating many times Bond, James Bond  

Like a good Scottish Brit  

Displayed the powerful stiff upper lip  

Shaken not stirred  

Sending a message not needing to say a word  

Traveling the world  

Next to the latest cover girl  

Some good some bad  

This film fantasy was truly the cinema fad  

Tonight, Sir Sean could be on the prowl  

Seeking out enemies being foul  

Maybe Pussy Galore  

On the heavenly Casino floor  

Having English Breakfast with Sir Roger Moore  

Which results in both Bonds being shown the angelic door  

Now talking about placing gold on the finger  

Could be the record hit by the well-known singer  

All artists working together  

Presenting a blockbuster peaceful action pack letter  

Explaining the well-groomed leading man  

Waving a heroic hand  

When taking the adventurous stand  

Good night  

My fine theatrical knight  

You put up a winning fight  

Giving the written vision a proud visual sight  

Leaving a dreamer author eternal might
Form: Rhyme

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