Long Stampede Poems
Long Stampede Poems. Below are the most popular long Stampede by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stampede poems by poem length and keyword.
Spilling a stampede of ink's prisms in brilliant
words infusing a Poet's thoughts.
Conveying creativity to provocative
imaginations .
Implicitly complying to isolating reality
Creating new dimensions where
Clock's spilling time's perceptions living
the moment of now forever.
Clockwise wisdom from wicked word’s
of a Crazy mind.
Philosophically our minds process symphonies
of orchestrated word's allowing cognitive man
to stay in harmony with the mind & body
a climax of our souls.
Mind the symphony insane insanity
orchestrated by the body in climax.
Words infuse a person's thoughts.
Emotions are expressed by the pitch of spoken word's.
Words communicate & body language speaks
emotions relative to the words
infused of a person's thinking.
Wisdom can be found reading in between the lines.
A paragraph of powerful catchphrases speaks
melodies of a catchy tune & flowers of imaginations
bloom.
Philosophy is ergonomics of the mind.
Urban legends in the suburbs.
Sounds of absurd check out the proverbs.
Cognition is a subject of cognitive man.
Premonitions are permissions of man's cognition.
Relative to the fixed position.
Precognition is a psychic's dream
an heard but not seen.
Culture is a reflection of society's ideology
theories of mythology in series of theologies.
Hypothetical theories query a qued question.
The clocks bleeding times perception
of dimensions in galaxies
light year's away.
Romeo’s an architect of accentuating
love's aesthetics in romance.
Twice pleasing to appeasing
sentiments in orchestra's
of delinquent eye's to witnesses.
Accentuating abstracts in non-conformities
designs contemporary aesthetics
in modern times.
Contemplating exquisite elegance unique
powers doubling my mind's conspiracy
of forwarding complex sediments.
Orchestrated the dynamics time playing
noteworthy scales of creativity
All the syllables in a kilogram of lines,
echoing grams of killer dope words whispering
persuasive complexity.
A mythic's chanting elegant wizardrtrii
enchanting ageless philosophies elegance of
life's angelic orchids of ageless wisdom's.
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21st century's Poet
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Aching
aching deep within
reaching out beyond the veil
never forgotten
All Aboard
body and soul combine
for the ride of a lifetime –
no return tickets
Am I me
I think I am me
I think, therefore, I am me
I am me I think
Astral Womb
astral absorption
blends life continually -
soul's evolution
Bloodless Bond
born not of Mother
parent of necessity
destiny fulfilled
Coming up Trumps
sharing true friendship
noisily expelling gas
no inhibitions
Conception
blending of spirits
natures nectar decanted
life's vessel refilled
Deep Silence
deep silence roars out -
in straining to catch whispers
no one can hear it
Destiny
deep thunder rumbling
silence envelopes the land
destiny draws near
Empty Noise
dry branches snapping
summer glory now faded
still tries to impress
Eternal Moments
past, future, present
moments form eternity
time stays forever
Eternity Beckons
body discarded
spirit struggling upwards -
too late to grow wings
Eternity
union of birth
individualism
union of death
Free Spirit
thundering of hoofs
freedom’s stampede of delight -
spirit unbroken
Insight
foggy perception
clarity of direction
avenues open
Night Fright
cloud creeps across moon
night whispers it's mysteries
concealed in darkness
Pendulum of Life
living in boredom
soul screams for activity
turmoil requires rest
Pendulum’s Swing
regularity
exist in cloud cuckoo land
life's pendulum swings
Pendulum’s Ride
enjoy all the ups
enjoy the extremities
enjoy all the downs
Post Mortem
Going through the veil -
Once life’s journey is a tale
Did your faith prevail
Self Pity
beyond human sight
loved ones find eternal joy
why does my soul ache
Time for Time
life's pathways beckon
moments joined into ages
cloaked by time's mantle
Time’s Call
friends not forgotten
re-union approaches
time's pathway beckons
True Vision
though vision is clear
perception can be blinded –
truth is in the soul
Senyru:
Perception
perception
is reality
apparent
Poets Write
poets write
spilling blood as ink
makes one think
Ivor G Davies ©
Were slowly opening back up
Following the phases
Keeping to the rules
Taking it a step at a time.
But once the gates open
A stampede of bulls
Crashes through toward the field
Ready to frolic and merry
Like nothing ever happen.
Just because some freedoms
Have been restored now
Doesn't mean things
Aren't normal just yet.
But there you all
Your throwing giant parties
Your grouping together
At the beaches.
Your eating at joints
Your standing in lines
Your going on rides
Without being six feet apart.
You think now that
Its returning to normal
That there's nothing to worry
No virus to come after you?
Think again Dickweeds!
Your going too fast!
Your rushing things too soon!
Your brushing this off
Like it was dandruff!
Just because the country
Is slowly opening back up
Step by step at a time
Your going full tilt
Like its a marathon!
Your not looking
What's ahead of you
Not seeing the trap
That your gonna fall into!
You don't know
Of the domino effect
That you just set off!
You don't know
Whats to come
From your actions!
You think your invincible?
You think your so tough?
You think your bullet proof?
You think your not gonna get it?
THINK AGAIN Dick Weeds!
Your actions have consequences
Your foolishness will lead to new cases
Your dumbassery will sicken your loved ones!
Your selfishness will bring death around you!
Sure you've been cooped up inside
But rushing out right away
And hitting the bars
Ignoring the rules
Is inconsiderate!
What if your parents get it!?
What if your kids get it!?
What if your grandparents get it!?
Then what are you gonna do!?
You'll mourn and cry
Coming to terms
Upon what you've done
When you lose the ones you love.
So don't be such dick weeds
Take it step by step
I can't tell you what to believe
I can't tell you what to do
You gotta figure that one out
On your own to find your own way.
Only you can make a change
Only you can make it better
Only you can regain your senses
Only you can open your eyes
To the very truth that lays
Before your very being.
So don't be dickweeds
Try to be something better
Otherwise you'll kill
The Garden of Humanity
Until its nothing, but a barren
Wasteland of despair.
Some modern folks, when they hear his name,
will roll their eyes and look ashamed,
thinking the cowboy is uncivilized,
with his hats, and guns, and round-up rides.
That somehow they are beyond the stuff,
to good for the wild, and the rough,
following some unwritten ‘elite’ law,
suppressing the urge to shout ‘yee-haw!’
But I think when it all is said and done,
cowboys are truly made of awesome…
Riding swift across the wide-open plains,
coat flapping behind like your horse’s mane,
maneuvering a large and panicked herd,
turning a stampede with iron nerves,
rough-hewn men cooking by the firelight,
coyote chorus yips through the night,
knowing that for all the wind and grit,
it sure beats sitting in an office.
A battered hat worth more than any pearl,
grabs the attention of the cowgirls,
boots that announce you in any room,
be you a mere hand, or fancy bride-groom.
Leather vests that dress up any shirt,
and somehow can even make fringe"work,
a bandana or a wild rag,
with a thousand uses, not a mere fad.
The tell-tale jangle comes from your spurs,
vast coat made out of buffalo fur.
Square-dance, line-dance, twirl a girl around,
to fiddle and steel guitar’s sound,
campfire songs to entertain the kids,
harmonicas to sing the blues with,
teaching the folks to throw a lasso,
then breaking out tricks with swirling rope.
Living life by a strong honor code,
one that good people would do well to know.
Wyatt Earp and his famous revenge ride,
Masterson cut Dodge City down to size,
Doc Holliday gambling with a death wish,
Billy the Kid, criminal, yet tragic,
Wild Bill holding those aces & eights,
and old Kit Carson, out blazing the way,
Buffalo Bill brought the people a dream,
and who can forget, the legend Bass Reeves?
A six-gun at ready, holster right side,
the lines of a Winchester, ever sublime.
Ranches that sprawl on mountain and prairie,
riding the trails where man can breath free,
rampaging rodeo, those guns are fun,
and damn can those barrel-racers run!
Living out of doors, by both skill and luck,
be it on a horse or a pick-up truck,
It’s clear that when all is said and done,
that cowboys are truly made of awesome.
2/14/17
At similar and different degrees
Animals, humans, and objects proceed
At lower and higher speeds
By the land and sea
Near many trees
Bearing fruit, or mainly leaves
Far too many display greed
Being naive, with intentions that deceive
And mislead
I believe
Indeed
I'll succeed
And achieve
While following through on deeds
As I aim to exceed
Burned, dug and pulled weeds
Some of which got cleaved
And eventually heaved
Into a orderly pile before, after or during the eve
Pollen in the breeze
Causing those allergic to sneeze
Near and far from hives of bees
Some pray on their knees
In the midst of Summer heat or Winters freeze
Evidence and other items getting seized
Some but not all could be got back through paying fees
What was difficult for many, may have been done by others with ease
Regardless of if they have prestige
A vast amount of cuisines
With greens
And or meats, some of which considered lean
Either following or breaking the creed
In the midst of, or behind the scenes
Handmade crafts and figurines
And others created by machines
Instead of charging in with a head full of steam
Better think and heed
While trying to grasp what it means
Do you agree or disagree
That is not all that it seems?
Areas with weather considered extreme
Occasionally turning things into smithereens
Another night where I didn't dream
Whether I did or didn't fall asleep in front of a screen
Can the soul be redeemed
Despite there being no guarantee
Finished tasks solo or in a team
Above and below terrain having ravines
Dirtied up, scuffed and cut my jeans
The same could be said for my sleeves
Not yet have I had mead
Or paid for a limousine
Close and beyond places known for the occasional stampede
Could it have been preventable with vaccines
For afflictions and disease
Above and below streams
As well as submarines
However this all may be deemed
There is no hidden strings or schemes
It is good to read
Brain, body, soul and spirit need to feed
Intervene
Got to switch up the same old routines
And reign supreme
By: Dalton Ogletree
In the saloon gambler Milton, rose from his leather chair to speak
And said we need to make changes for the good of Soup Creek
He read all the meaningful proposals to the townsfolk out loud
And those meaningful proposals were well received by the crowd.
A stranger sat in the corner looked like he'd just got outta bed
Stood up and disagreed with everything Milton had said
He'd totally misunderstood Milton's honourable intention
The situation became tense and you could feel the tension.
There was an icy deadly silence then over by the far corner
Stood saloon girl Jenna looking mean, and cradling a Winchester
There was a mad stampede, as folks tried to get out the door
The stranger carried on ranting and at gambler Milton he swore.
Someone had alerted Sheriff Koplin and he was soon on his way
Then entered the saloon approaching the stranger, and had this to say
"Soup Creek is a very peaceful town and we aim to keep it that way
And if you don't like how we run things then you'd best be on your way"
Then from the back door of the saloon, entered four other deputies
Dave the Texas ranger, saloon girl Tania and the blacksmith called Rees
Undertaker Tom needed business, he was hoping the stranger they'd kill
And then headed off with a pick and shovel, to his office at Boot Hill.
The stranger was outnumbered and knew he wouldn't win
And handed the Sheriff his gun who said "I'm taking you in"
The Sheriff at gunpoint walked the stranger over to the jail
And told him" I'm locking you up and don't think about bail"
Meanwhile Tom up at Boot Hill was sweating digging a grave
Then heard someone hollering it was the Texas ranger Dave
Tom looked up and Dave told him "you won't be needed today
But Sheriff Koplin is generous and you'll still get your days pay"
"Gambler Milton is in the saloon later and he's holding a big party"
Tom threw his shovel in the grave and said "sounds good to me "
They both mounted their horses and then headed back to town
And they arrived back in Soup Creek as the sun was going down.
Written 16th August 2022
Gently lying on my bed with my slickly Pink Pajamas,
I fell asleep like a peaceful baby,
then the windows opened in complete excitement,
and the seas breezed in like a stampede,
raising my night dress from legs to Breasts
leaving me nude, cold but blessed,
then came this guy with a bad intention crested on his chest,
I could not picture his face but could see him so well.
As his tongue kiss and lick,
high voltage current crossed my cheek.
the wet flexible muscle moved quite oblique,
then every action from now on seem to click,
causing sensation so quick,
I suddenly became helpless, weak and sick.
He trade his plight on site,
causing hormonal sparks to ignite,
not considering if he is wrong or right,
becoming more real and clean in my sight,
my increasing arousal, making the moment bright.
His groans made the feeling mutual,
producing pleasure beyond the normal ritual,
and making his movement on me so casual,
cupped my Breast to make the feeling factual,
squeezing them like a newly baked dough,
wheezing sounds emerging from my passionate screams,
and making my freezing feet jerk as he plays with the nipples.
Then down the road he goes to my shin,
spreading my legs made the sensation immeasurable,
the gradual heat from his romancing hand, simply unspeakable,
summed up with his commanding domination like a constable,
began an erotic scene so irresistible,
and since I am already grossly susceptible,
I yielded to his masculine touch as though already compatible.
Steadily and slowly, he drives through to my thighs like a convertible,
causing a body rhythm and sensation so explicable.
Caressing them gently as I wished,
reaching the focal point made me feel accomplished,
hoping to treat my secret garden with a mood so selfish,
making it his possession and ecstasy fully nourished,
complimented with a fantasy already established
As he was about penetrating like a beam,
I already reached the next level and ready to swim,
as real as this experience may seem,
I immediately woke up to realize it was just a dream
Wonder's Mother, Misery
Digging up the philosophical topic:
Disputing bliss as the ultimate state.
Argues that striving for worthy causes
is crucial to satisfaction.
Told as a narrative:
I settle for serenity before empathy emerges.
Fortune arrives! Freedom's apostle forsakes anguish
Gifted infinite Bliss, my solace destined deservedly
Stream of clarity meanders a universal language
Friction's absence nestles purity imperviously
Embalmed in Calm's acclaimed lake, swan flossed
Rythemical ripples push potent satisfaction
Praises recited by besotted Constancy credulous
echo honey hive hums of hexagonal exaction
Departing debaucherous City vividly abhorred
Putrid brutality writhes with tired rivalries
Beanstalk brings salvation, stem thrust forward
Garnered ease guarantees Eden's glories
Possessive Bliss demands spellbound devotion
Heaven threatened if Bliss discerns disloyalty
Clouds combine to combat empathy's erosion
Chastise my facile option of blind buoyancy
Fog's fugitives scowl at my serenity tenuous
Big top brandishing condemns complacency
Stampede creatures wet sterile to spectacle
Aloof cautions, storm's rampage prophesied
Thunder's scorn in boisterous cloud growls,
" Are your horizons devoid of curiousity?"
Lightning despises consolation Bliss allows
" Ventures usher insight, mishaps carve tenacity. "
My plaintive protest, " Bliss gives reality reprieve."
Vehement gust howls, " Glassy serenity smothers"
Truth edits template, discards denial' s dry leaves
" Necessary Misery is Wonder's Mother."
"Wonder's discoveries honour researchers who develop them
Trials and triumph craft tapestry immaculately woven
Showcased esteem denies distinction endless spectrum
Taunting tranquility extends pledges inevitably broken."
Narcotic Bliss persuades with privilege of inaction
Compassion scaffolds resilience duly collected
Pragmatic rain alerts to a pertinent maxim
Intrigue's face created by Misery's descendant
July 2020
IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY - LXXVII
IF ever I had a country proud of its wall-less porous boundary
And if ever by no mistake of the Supreme High Command of the International Militaro-Business Conspiracy I were appointed the CHIEF TARIFF IMPOSER and Eminence Grise of and on all the self-righteous realms rocambolesque republics and renegade run-of-the-mill rotten rotting rostrum-raving riven ribald rascally rickety refugee-raised democracies
Mark my words I’ll put an end to the raping of my dearly-beloved national integrity by
One, importing all available rutting Queen Bees of the "Killer African Bees" and have them breed with local wasps of high pedigree in the front-line of battle along the Southern Border under every tree where I’d let Red Ant-Hills multiply free
Two, import Myanmar Pythons with a taste for digesting young fresh human flesh, mixed with the local brand of Everglades alligators, down the Mississippi and the Colorado River sprinkled liberally with the Grand Canyon brand of the Rattle-Snake with their tell-tale warning-rattle nipped off, together with the silent army of Black Widows clad in their enticing mantilla webs, as a second-line of defense against the illegal refugee
Next, if they still keep coming I’d roundup all the lazy good-for-nothing thick-maned Bisons of the prairies and have them lined up for a Charge-of-the- Heavy-Brigade stampede by whipping their asses to the sound of the Land of the Free
And if this doesn’t stem the tide of illegal immigrants, drug dealers and tourists with empty pockets, I’d call on the faithful Black and White striped Tribe of Appalachian SKUNKS with my tonitruant bugle, line them up so that their posteriors faced Tierra del Fuego and let them squirt to their hind-hearts’ desire even at the risk of driving the entire population out of the country
Yes Siree, this’s what I’d do as the Eminence Grise and Chief Imposer of Tariffs of My Beloved Contree
And this even if I never ever had no country worth saving for the ennui of a penny
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, June 11, 2019
As the last man on the planet Earth,
Time has become my mortal enemy.
A whole world to walk silently alone,
In fruitless reflection of what was.
The streets are fully empty now,
But I can still hear the traffic.
The stampede of marauding vehicles,
At the mercy of synchronized colored lights.
The rhythmic sound of pedestrian shoes,
Clip-clopping on busy city sidewalks.
With everyone speeding along at such a frenzied pace,
We became oblivious to the oncoming corner.
That dark and ominous corner sealing our fate,
And nominating this narrator of our story.
It's a story no one will ever hear,
As it replays in my tortured mind.
A tale about the tiniest of creatures,
Bred in the bowels of a secluded lab.
This viral giant that was let loose,
To reak havoc on an unsuspecting populace.
Three billion dead in the first month alone,
Leaving a scattered and tattered trail of corpses.
Not even the government or media had ample time,
To prepare us for our impending demise.
The sudden end was just the beginning,
Of my permanent and involuntary solitude.
Why I alone was granted this final reprieve,
Is what haunts my every waking moment.
And, with all other animal life victims too;
The dead silence has become as maddening,
As the deafening crescendo of tinnitus,
Which echoes in my persecuted ears.
But still, I continue my futile search,
In the hopes that someone else survived.
I travel by whatever vacant conveyance available,
That isn't littered with mannequinned remains.
A bleak journey over a vast fading nation,
That I somberly and reluctantly traverse daily.
What fools we were to blindly believe,
We had the power to control our destiny.
The countless novels written to commemorate
Our struggles to overcome the multitude of obstacles.
The many sad pitfalls and glorious victories,
That smelted and forged us into who we were.
Now, at the dusk of my wayward wandering,
The sun begins its inevitable slow descent.
Yet, I find myself humming a familiar tune,
As I walk towards the horizon of another day.