Long Steampunk Poems
Long Steampunk Poems. Below are the most popular long Steampunk by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Steampunk poems by poem length and keyword.
the steampunk convention was presided over by ABW, Mrs. McNack
Arrogant Bee Woman is what we called this piranha behind her back
ABW stood for something else but none of us knew what any more
We all held our breath though when queen bee came onto the floor
She had a way about her that was beyond arrogant and proud
Creeping through the exhibits quickly, stealthy, not loud
Yet there was something about her that struck terror in all
She was the steampunk’s ABW, thin, sneaky, scary and tall.
Why does she terrify us? Another steam punker asked me.
I knew it was not her costume even though she looked like a bee
Maybe it was her polish, her spit, her fine way of shining.
I know when she entered the cafeteria, I had to quit dining.
Clock work spiders are climbing up my wall ‘sticking in their nasty pins so none of them will fall,
As one of them lifts her leg and begins to spin her steel ,
another scurries closer and strums it with its heel .
wide eyed and terror struck i remembered going to bed ,
then the clever thought occurs to me
‘just test it and bang your head .
Nope I’m none the wiser ‘now definitely wide awake the mechanical spiders play too me as none of this is fake .
Dozens of them are present now ‘all shine with a metallic grace
‘ but why my room I ask myself
‘why now and why in this place ?
Segmented shining carapace’s ‘move slowly in the gloom ‘
their steel strung out of different lengths
‘lends melodics to the tune .
Tiny keys are turning that adds motion to their gears
‘the thought of what the hell’s going on ‘l
‘nearly bringing me too tears .
Should I Trust theses clockwork spiders ‘
when will their playing End ?
‘who sent them too late night serenade me
‘was it enemy or a trusted friend?
This picking arachnid blue grass
‘ was really something to see
‘terror was starting to subside ,
I was tapping gleefully.
Please don’t climb down from the wall’s
‘keep playing this wicked tune
‘if could just reach my trusted harmonica
‘I’ll join you really soon.
So there I was sat up in bed
‘the spiders kept their beat ‘
it was now time for my solo ‘ I’d better make this sweet.
scratching approval from these arachnid bots
‘was what my piece had gained
’this was becoming awesome ,this could lead to fame.
Then one by one they began to fall,
‘softly on on my bed
‘ the lack inertia for their key winding
’had ended the music dead .
No ‘I called out in grief there’s a lot more we can play ,
‘please reinstate your innerspring’s and carry on that old country way .
But the lifeless eight legged metals ‘lay still and didn’t move ‘
the time had come ‘we’d had our fun ‘
that was the conclusion of our groove .
Where had these spiders come from and how did they know too play
‘I’ll never forget their music ‘
I’ll never forget this day .
Lisa was carefully pulling a strand of cotton candy off a paper-coned “barbe à papa” - winding it around her finger while absentmindedly gazing at a carousel. She seemed hypnotized by its white horses, trimmed in gold, with their brassy red and blond manes, as they hopped, like slow-motion rabbits, in circles beneath wreaths and garlands of colored lights.
My watch jiggled me awake, mid-dream. I was bemused. It took me a moment to orient myself. I groggily pushed the sheets off and performed a big stretch. It's Monday morning, I think. “Alexa, what’s today?” I ask, to be sure. “It’s Monday, April 25th,” she says.
A beautiful, if cloudy spring morning was going to bloom on the other side of my jacobian glass windows - any minute now. At least according to my weather app. “Alexa, good morning,” I say, to start my rattling, sputtering, steampunk sounding coffee maker.
College time is warped, measured more in deadlines than minutes. There’s no plan other than your class or test schedule and let me refresh you on the rules – there are no rules, I’m free to do whatever I want. I actually chuckle at that thought.
College is transformative but there’s a hoary sameness to it. Read, discuss, review and test - wash, rinse and repeat. This morning is reserved for test review. I have a final this morning - well, sort of.
Some classes have a quintet of tests instead of a big midterm and nerve-racking final. It smooths out the stress, but you still have an almost forensic exploration of ideas, and you want the answers queued-up, ready for easy access.
I quickly washed and donned my workout-wear. A glance at my watch told me I was right on time. I’d loaded my shoulder bag last night, with my book, highlighters, my phone, Air-Pods and a water bottle. I grab it as I head out. I’ll do my review on the treadmill.
Anna opens her door just as I do mine - perfect. We’re off to the gym.
Sheila stepped out of the mechanized gear-filled lab with her robotic dog.
her lace blouse a contrast to her steam-powered eighteenth-century hog.
Another inventor looked up gave her a quick friendly boy-next-door wave.
His invention would make robotic airships flow and cascade.
Is that another automaton? Sheila yelled at her childhood friend of forever.
He did not divulge secrets, for Sheila was exceedingly clever.
She tucked her auburn hair into a helmet from Leagues under the sea.
But she was not fooled by his quick answer, not by any degree.
these rival inventors had been steampunk friendly since twenty-twenty.
She had phenomenal forthcoming mechanics almost ready; he had plenty.
Nothing frilly or fancy about her robotics, she intended they be the best.
Jim understood this, but he still wanted to carve out for them a love nest.
Sheila had avenues to conquer, airships to build too.
Eventually he planned to make a move, for without her, life would be blue.
Sheila congratulated herself for her coolness as she rode her hog away.
She planned to make him fall in love with her, tomorrow might be the day.
Sheestah was the original Steampunk Peddler woman who could.
She wandered Kansas prairies in 1873 like no female ever should.
She was an inventor, an artist, a cartoonist, and worst….
She did not do any cooking or cleaning or carry a common purse
She wore a pirate’s outfit, and she had a pirate kind of ugly buggly bird.
She sold ideas to other women which men considered rather absurd.
Sheestah talked them into trying to get the vote for their kind of course.
She got tossed out of towns for not riding in a cart or with a horse.
She is the oddest, weirdest excuse for a woman we have ever seen!
Said the jealous men who were angry her contraption ran on steam.
She invented it herself! They cried out, angry as all get out.
Some went home and put their lips out in a giant “little boy” pout.
Sheestah heard the rumors and she laughed all the way to the bank.
Her inventions brought in so much money; she had herself to thank.
She was an independent woman, a philanthropist, a thinker, tis true.
I would have loved to have known her. How about you?
Steampunk Cat name of Charlie Boo
Thought his vices were mystery to Sue
Brought her violets in hue of blue
For it was she that Charlie wanted to woo
Sue was a savvy feline, with a keen open mind
She knew that many made fun of Charlie, which was not kind
Decided to give him a chance, for he might be a sweet find.
They were soon running to the altar, their pledges to bind.
The door opened and in slinked a persnickety cat with a pout.
She said “Charlie Boo, what to do you think you’re about?
Charlie Boo gave a whimper, a shriek and a blood gushing shout.
He was already married, you see – the big, bigamist lout.
Steampunk Cat had some weird feelings in his head.
They clanged around against metal, filled him with dread.
Something is happening, he told his Uncle Tom Stead.
I feel a storm is coming, that might make us dead.
Tom was a cagey old codger, all curiosity gone.
He rolled over sleepily on the couch he was on.
Steampunk has made you suspicious he told his nephew.
Even if a tornado comes, it probably will not get you.
Steampunk Cat did not know what to make of this.
He rolled his eyes merrily and blew his uncle a kiss.
His uncle never got stressed or excited anymore, he was old.
His advice was sage however, incredibly gold.
Mr. White Steampunk J. Rabbit at your service,
the distinguished guest said.
I offered to park his gear decorated top hat
from his lovely two-eared head.
But he was in no hurry to get rid of his hat,
an enormous asset to his costume.
I would like to introduce myself wisely,
he said, as he entered my living room.
The children were astounded,
their eyes were falling onto the carpeted floor.
I had to push them back into their sockets,
and induce them to tolerate galore.
Is he the Easter Bunny? The youngest asked,
her voice full of Easter hope.
Of course not, you moron.
Why are you always such an incredible dope?
I had to remind my father who had dementia to use his kind words.
Mr. White Steampunk J. Rabbit kindly acted like he had not heard.
He taught us to play poker, Texas hold’em, bridge, hearts and gin.
We had so much fun that day, I am not sure where to begin.
When we show the photo, people roll their eyes in disbelief.
They do not believe he was there. In some ways this is a relief.
For if they knew how crazy my family was, we’d all be taken away.
Because if there is one thing we know how to do, it is to imagine and play.
Steampunk Stella woke up in the thick of an alternative world.
Colorful mechanical flowers were dancing and singing.
The gold band on her top hat changed a gorgeous fuchsia pink
orange poppies and fancy golden engravings adorned it now
her dress had changed from black to a marvelous seafoam turquoise
gold trim at the bottom was new, as was the ornate embroidery.
where was she? she blinked her eyes a few times,
This was no dream; it was magi world, and she was a key player
a marching band went by; the drummer was insanely loud and clever.
people began cheering from rooftops, and there were lots of them.
She felt a kinship to this place; without knowing why or how.
a toad wearing a monocle hopped up and gave a distinguished bow.
you are our honored guest, we have to fly up to the clock tower now.
no idea what it meant, but her boots took a leap and she was flying
She landed on a balcony surrounded by hanging clocks.
The mayor congratulated her on her ginger locks.
I do not have red hair, she argued, so he showed her a mirror.
Her entire face had changed, she was amazed that she was beautiful.
With blue eyes! She had always wanted blue eyes.
I will never go back, ever, she vowed.
So she stayed in the magic kingdom, and married a prince.
But he proved to be boring, and she tired of color.
One day she simply returned to her own kind.
A steampunk world of fantasy with limited color.
I am not sure how I accidentally stumbled upon the world of Steampunk,
But it is a combination of lace, leather, and metals, and a little bit funk.
It magically and freely fits people, cats, and dogs with machinery and gears.
Encourages unusual leather gloves, and holsters with no sense of fear.
There is a lot of beautiful dark brown copper piping included, and lots of mystique.
Inspired by the 1900’s, it is a whole new world, completely unique.
There are billowy white sleeves and leather adornments on both men and women
And leather belts with hooks, buckles, and gears, imagination freely given.
Whoever thought it up had imagination, a sense of fun, and talent galore.
Large round funk glasses with colored lenses look normal on top hats, which I so adore.
If you do not learn about anything else, on a dreary, cold or uninteresting day,
Look up steampunk styles, and steampunk conventions, it may make you want to join them and play.