Long Staged Poems
Long Staged Poems. Below are the most popular long Staged by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Staged poems by poem length and keyword.
#This_moment;
Its hard to breath in here, my lungs exhaust to serve my respiratory system, I try hard to reach out to the outer world but this atmosphere chains my abilities to do so, I so wish to break free from this dungeon, my life pumps in pauses, my breath keep skipping, I run in a halt, the wildest hopeless open space, this is worse than death
this is both shocking and scary, the human in me, running loose, a chase in darkness of fear, this is sore, having hands but useless to use, for the pain is everywhere. This moment is traumatizing, emotions scattered and confused inside this tiny body of mine, this is worse, when every part of me feels so crippled
I wanna shout but only gestures of words comes out, I wanna cry but this body keeps capturing my tears, I cry a dry and voiceless cry. The human function, I feel my body failed to perform, the role I was staged to play, now I know not the scene to present it, for this moment has drained every clear vision and clearity, which ones resided in me. This is hell, the feeling of coffined, while there's still a pulse in my veins, the act of evil and heartlessnes, this here, is conscious drifting. Ooh! human of Earth bear me a hand, can heaven certify my breathing permit, so I can lend on its gates. If failure and hopeless resembled this much, then why on Earth I exist
#Poetic_Ink
I am a baker in a quaint, small town,
for my artisan breads the people come ’round,
Tuscan and baguettes by the dozen are sold,
but most people come here for my Gender Rolls.
I came up with them on a cool day last year,
a batch I’ve been baking had come out all weird,
some came out all golden, slight and petite,
others were brown, all bulked and manly.
Specialization will move the product,
so I fiddled, until a stroke of luck:
feminine rolls that were soft, light and sweet,
masculine rolls, tasting strongly of meat.
The female rolls were a joy to look upon,
but they went bad quickly, best eaten when young,
the male rolls had flavors bold and very strong,
many were eating only them before long.
And that’s where the trouble truly began,
that male rolls sold better some would not stand,
they said the female rolls should get a leg up,
that I undersold them, did not make enough.
Other people got mad that I had the gall
to assign gender to dinner rolls at all,
they said it was a form of sexist abuse,
and that I should let the dinner rolls chose!
What if the dinners rolls did not fit well,
what if trying to be a gender was hell?
That said the it was presumptuous of me,
what if the roll identified as taffy?
I did not at first believe they were for real,
that they were just snowflakes, shouting their ‘feels,’
until the day they blockaded my store,
then staged a ‘die in,’ lying on my floor!
The easiest route would’ve been to backtrack,
but a man like me just ain’t wired like that,
so I posted a sign, this ‘creators’ word,
‘When it comes to rolls, there are just two genders.’
Some warned that this would destroy my sales,
but to this day I sell them all without fail,
the Red Pill crowd can’t get enough of it,
what can I say? Gender Rolls are a hit!
Order now and I will custom carve the male or female symbols into you batch. No extra charge!
By George P. Lumayag
https://georgelumayag.weebly.com/
Silent twilight like the darkest forest in the southeast
Covered with giant trees and surrounded by huge cliffs;
Sad natives in the valley mourned and cried in vain;
The conscious thoughts believed such coffin would hear
The Kulilisi master as god of prose and poetry,
And he smartly horned the rule with brilliant sounds,
With his handkerchief like a paper plane - landed to start the game.
Then, he rendered the riddle as scrabble-puzzled words;
A wrong try made the fruitless poet to recite
Kulilisi free-verses and poetry of any poetical type;
Then, the unproductive received a gift certificate.
Young and old heard, women and men desired
The title as the Kulilisi Prince and Princess of the Night
So the master stepped forward and riddled the rest;
Then, waited a correct or wrong try from the poets.
Successful dreamers would still occupy the witty floor
And could still enjoy the sweet phrases like Metaphors;
Then, the master of words still riddled a squad of dreamers
And he waited the correct answer and hyperbolically staged the verdict;
Kulilisi ended and the successful poets recited
The undying witty words spoken in figurative language.
They say the moon flight was staged,
The stars forgot to take their place,
A flag waved in the vacuum of space
The shadows leaned the wrong way too,
The rocket roared, the cameras rolled,
The greatest lie the world was told;
With half a million duped to pray
That 'one small step' was human made.
Why fake a landing? For fame no doubt—
Beat the Soviets, keep Kennedy's promise
Far cheaper to stage than to blast off;
Hoodwinked brains love loony dreams.
A soundstage moon, a painted sky,
Cross hairs appear in the photos
Which all appear too clear-cut
Lighting cache was always just right.
And why’d it take so long to return?
If it was so easy where's the replay?
The silly recent flyby was so easy to fake
Any kid could have done it proud.
But science fakes so many things—
Vaccines, weather, cures, and aliens;
We're all so gullible for a story
Spread as scam jam on wholemeal toast.
So bless the stage, the moon, the men,
The myth that gave hope to a Nation
That we might someday flee to Mars
To live our lovely scams with Elon Musk stars.
Instead of names, we're often called
By where we do reside,
So, "Hey, New York!" we're greeted with,
A simple ID guide.
Thus Texas, Fresno, Cleveland
And Kentucky we have met
And Arkansas and others
We have not conversed with yet.
A member of the crew, as well,
Who helped us, with delight,
We learned lives now in London
But was from the Isle of Wight.
So later, in the evening,
While we watched a staged revue,
I realized a performer
Was a friendly face I knew.
The singers mingled with the crowd
At their performance end
And thus I had a chance to chat
With my new English friend.
"Hey, Isle of Wight!" I sang out,
"You were great up on that stage!"
He beamed in recognition,
Such a nice way to engage.
House of commons, Quebec i think,? questions and
Odd answers; the air waxed thick..up to point..' debate
Was staged, till the veil of control, almost got frayed.'
Yet oppression was to carry this bout' the speaker flipped
And switched it out, on the un-reigned shouts, a little grim?Yet a smile indeed he wore, above the sober; gown of..
( Law?) The switch on beasts maybe is banned? Whithin
The border of that land.? If one is there it must belong to
Historys annals, and in real sad songs, owned by the folk
And not one man? An heirloom albeit not that grand.' I
For one observe such tricks, the denial of carrot
And the weilding of stick..Er i mean switch.!
A soul that vessels life,
or driven into oblivion.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
A pitiful anonymous dilemma,
that either suppresses or sustains life.
Fueling our consciousness,
whilst Fostering out desires.
Our instinctual incentive,
to appear a persona of part.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
An incongruous tug of war,
the fidgeting of our hearts and minds.
Carefully deciphering our cards’ might,
for an inexcusable conforming reason,
staged playing our parts right.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
How simplistic it is,
to only want to appear the part.
How limiting it is too,
to only want to play the part.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Think again and instead, be the part.
Question yourselves,
your Love,
for the part.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Be the part,
And take a road not taken.
Love the part,
going at it,
and not blissfully with it.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
For better or for worse,
Till death does your part apart,
Forever and ever,
till days’ seep into descent.
Gestures made
Phrases uttered
All sound familiar
But how did this come to be?
It dawned on me
the movies watched long ago
the books read long ago
Gestures saved
Phrases scripted
The subscious comes to avail
Life is a large stage
Men and women acting
Life's cycle turns full circle.
Phrases muttered
Gestures made
Obscene acts
Despicable scripts
There is nothing new....
on the earth, earthlings
Life's cycle turns full circle
Scripts staged
Phrases written
Scenes seem familiar
movies long watched
books long read all comes to fore
Life is a stage
We are in this age
acting scripts long wired
nothing is new except the costumes
(Written 8th March, 2015)
Form:
Prick streches into a carved shape
Longer than its usual length stick
Readily active to puncture tire
In pleasurable drill of strain
And stress till urge sting
To enkindle silent click
Of achy healthy goo
Lightly snowing in
Clucking sounds
Repeatedly shh!
Uncontrollably
What a Prick!
Prick ohh!
Prick!!!...Let loose of heavenly blessings
Jikerewin ji!
Jikerewin ji! ji! ji!
Stifled heartbeats
Jikerewin ji! ji! ji! ji!
Trumped ji! ji! ji! ji! ji!
Ranging six feet whole
Settling down to the bottom
Of the bottomless pit from afar
Fumed fuse of aid beyond its wears
Off in standstill beckoning the patience
To rise and to ride on the way back home
In fun-- a well rounded shape of itself's best
Regards no mask to shame the staged claim
At start, it is able, strong, and hailing non-stop
But now, be willing; do not beyond thy strength
See it not a task but a duty taken up by its limit.
There lived a young girl in the town,
so sad and a little bit down.
Her Grammy lay sick in her bed
and had to be cared for and fed.
Each day she would get in her car,
though Grammy was not very far.
Dressed up with her red-hooded coat
with basket she'd visit, devote
an hour, maybe two, by Gram's side,
who'd smile with eyes open so wide;
Gram called her 'my Missy Red-Hood',
and loved her as much as she could.
One day she saw Grammy in bed,
but something was strange with her head.
She quickly moved closer to see
why Grammy looked so differently.
At once she was pulled down, amiss...
received a romantic big kiss!
'Neath blanket hand rose up to bring
a beautiful bright diamond ring!
Now Grammy, in corner aware,
relaxed in her brown rocking chair,
enjoyed this great drama just staged.
Her Missy Red-Hood was engaged!
So Missy's boyfriend and sweet Gram
were pleased to unfold their great plan.
They borrowed the old fairy tale...
Instead of a wolf, there was Dale!
Then Missy and Dale soon were wed,
and Grammy got well, left her bed.
Their life was as good as can be.
And so this tale ends happily!
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Contest: Once Upon A Time
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Theme: Little Red Riding Hood
Judged: 02/06/2016