Long Stricter Poems
Long Stricter Poems. Below are the most popular long Stricter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stricter poems by poem length and keyword.
A car is not an essential,
Just a very useful tool,
But a lethal weapon in the
Hands of any inconsiderate fool.
We seem to have a problem
Making drivers understand
Because they own a tin box
They don’t own the land.
So, speed cops with missiles,
Bodies and wrecks left by verges
To try and discourage those
With antisocial driving urges.
A few burnt out vehicles
Displayed on any Major road
Could maybe encourage stricter
Adherence of the Highway Code.
Traffic wardens with Tasers.
A good sharp shock just might
Make drivers a little more willing
To park vehicles legally and right.
Regular driving tests
To hone up their skill
Lifelong bans for those
Who illegally kill.
Flesh and blood versus steel
Just isn't any real contest
Whatever the circumstances
Motor vehicles come off best.
We need new laws and
We need to give them bite.
To drive is a privilege and not,
As assumed, an automatic right
I created one type of writing in the form of a prose and a poem combined. Very similar to the Japanese version of a Haibun, only that in this type of writing I need not to set a standard of making the poem appear or sound only as haiku. One to three lines or even up to ten lines in a stanza (rhymed or unrhymed) as a poem, before or after the prose (flash story or anecdote of your interest) will do. Any form of poetry can be combined or added in or within the prose itself. I call it "Prosebite."
The prose need not to be too short nor too long, as long as the readers can comprehend the kernel or message of the prosebite.
A bite of any form of poetry and a chunk of writing in prose.
A combination of two or three (or even four) different forms of poetry can also be considered as prosebite. It is your way of expressing yourself. Your perspective matters.
Prosebite is what you write
In form of a poem-piece anywhere.
With a prose somewhere,
With or without too many rhymes to kite.
No numbering or syllabication in lines
No stricter rules to follow between the lines.
Structure is what you do in a prosebite
Create and innovate your own bite.
Hailed haiku and haibun, we conformed
The way structures were formed.
We followed standards and rules as known
But somehow we can create our own.
(Prosebite)
Frames of navy night sky sparkle, her glasses
Reminisce on stricter times, nineteen forty eight
A generation before Jimmy Hendrix liberation
Prior to gyrations from tight crotch crooner
Women without an inheritance would struggle
Menial jobs taken on, still society frowned upon
Independence, thus encouragement to link existed
Father substitutes sought out by sorrowful youth
Amusing imp, as quick to pout as to smile
Stirred strangely eroticism with simple antics
Erratic her dance, alluring her firey tantrums
Lost in wanting better love, engrossing plight
Instinct like that of wobbly Bambi stretches limbs
Sprinkled in Summer lawn abandon, carefree unfurl
Flicks tiny traumas aside, a childhood culpable
Absence aches in her chest like necessity
Little lady of burden smudges beasts with kohl
Sketches a future of picket fence flowers tall
Daddy provides sanctum her unheard heart calls for
Distance dissolves, eloined on island of illegal union
Bubblegum pop, impatience dressed in playsuit
Her fickle requirements are infantile outlines
Bumps in road don't dislodge her admiration
Grim portrait rebellion saved for another decade
23rd January
Before I'm another day older,
I'm gonna get shot in the shoulder.
In movies and shows,
the protagonist knows,
it's how to get Hilda and hold her.
From Gene Autry to Scully and Mulder,
the good guys aren't turned on by gold, or
political power:
come the end of the hour,
they want to get shot in the shoulder.
In Buffalo, Boise or Boulder,
each player, or stacker or folder
will promise you flat
if you wear a white hat,
you're gonna get shot in the shoulder.
The girl may be Gertrude or Golda:
you're ready to melt her and mold her?
The best thing to do
when the baddies ride through,
is get yourself shot in the shoulder.
There's no formula stricter or colder:
the eye of the movie beholder
requires of the star,
when he enters that bar,
that he has to get shot in the shoulder.
When I met Grace Kelly, I told her
(or let's say I gently cajoled her):
"if you're leaving at noon,
then I don't need a wound!"
But I bled. That's right, lead. In the shoulder!
(1/18/13)
gone are the mom and pop stores that i once knew
candy stores , malt shops,newspaper and magazine stands too.
life was so much simpler then, you knew your neighbors
and had a lot of friends.
schools were for learning, and where kids could go to play
now you don't see that on any given day.
teachers and adults were respected and a sense of pride in the air
" now a days no one seems to care".
they are trying to pass a stricter gun law
because of what happened at SANDY HOOK
but that won't happen, because we have too many POLITICAL crooks.
twenty little angels were taken away that day
and six adult educators who got in the gun mans way.
now i'm not against the second amendment
i think it's our given right , but when it comes
to "ASSAULT Weapons"
the public should start to fight.
the public don't need " assault weapons"
we must take them off the streets
these are weapons of mass destruction
being sold through "political corruption"
while children lay dead at our feet.
i think the publics "outrage" should be heard loud and clear
maybe then - it'll create political fear.
(C) L . RAMS
When the well-rested rooster woke up at noon, he found himself in the lap
of a gorgeous boy and he was telling his mom with urgency,
"I want this rooster, he can keep the lonely and moody parrot company!"
And staring at him," It's a rooster, not a pet!" she exclaimed.
Mothers always try to please their kids, and sometimes they really spoil them,
not according to their customs and beliefs, controversially fathers are stricter than them;
"I'll take care of him and soon he'll be living in our ranch home" he promised...
and continuing,"From now on, his name will be Harbor: the lovely place where I found him!"
The gentle boy kept his promise and Harbor became part of the family,
and the talkative parrot taught him to say the exact words he said;
and months went by, but nobody knew that he could speak so humanly,
and how did they find out that Harbor was smarter than an ordinary bird?
They overheard him in a challenging conversation about finding a perfect mate,
in the shortest time and the shrewd parrot thought he surely would have been the winner,
but to his surprise, Harbor used his accumulated wisdom and searched the nearby farm,
where chicks were bred and then put in perforated carboard crates on a freighter.
Harbor looked around and didn't really like any of the chicks he saw,
and was he about to give up on his search? Suddenly not! He trotted past the noisy farm,
and to his bewilderment, he spotted a young chicken on the grass below...
and gallantly approached her, and with a chat started a romantic affair by keeping her warm.
Harbor and the young chick clicked and they quickly were talking about marriage,
lots of baby chicks to feed: the ultimate dream of two domesticated birds;
at first, the upset boy wasn't too happy about their agreement, and exploded in rage,
but realizing what was best for Harbor, he finally gave him his blessings.
On the same farm the newly-wed live, and have big plans for a large family;
one more thing, if curious folks decide to visit them anytime soon, they need a reservation.
They will show them around with their fowl hospitality, but rule out temptation;
none of them will end up on their plates for the next Holidays or any other special festivity!
This is a fourteen point check list
For when you buy a car
First question you should ask
Does it have full service history or part
The next important question
Has the Cam belt ever been changed
And do you have any receipts
To show me when it was arranged
Check for codes and errors
Held in the ECU
It may be clean and tidy
But they might be hiding a few
Now check that clutch
For usual wear and tear
Is it riding at the top
If so you should be aware
Check the oil, fuel and water
For any kind of leaks
Cause this could cost more money
And leave your pockets empty
Check all the fluid levels
Make sure there all topped up
It’s a sign that it’s been looked after
By the seller you’re buying it off
An early head gasket failure
Could cost more than the car is worth
So open up that oil cap
And check for creamy stuff
Listen to that engine
Make sure there’s no strange tunes
Check that steering properly
The brakes and all the tubes
Listen for failed wheel bearings
You will hear a whirling noise
If one of these is wearing
It aggravates and annoys
Check for too much smoke
And the exhaust while you can
Because MOT emissions
Are getting stricter with their plans
Have a visual check of course
Of the outside of the motor
Last but least test all the lights
And never let them chauffeur
Take a friend or mechanic
And look for signs of damage
Be wise and look up a guiding price
Make sure the vehicles within those sights
Hpi check is always satisfation
It may cost you a little more
But its very instant action
© Copyright KC.Leake
2nd October 2015
All rights Reserved
Camelia - Rabindranath Tagore
Kamala was her name.
I saw her name written on her journal
She was traveling on a tram, with her sibling along, toward the path leading to the college.
I was a back bencher there.
From one side, of her face, the smile line is visible
And the unbridled hair, touching softly her neck underneath the braid
With the book and journal in her lap
I missed the designated stoppage where I was supposed to stop.
Now, I have a stricter time, allotted for a walk outside
That calculation is not quite a musing with my workspace
Almost befitting with their leaving time, whence it is time.
Often we meet
I ponder in silence, regardless if there is any relation or not
She is my co-traveler.
A face with innocent intelligence
Was evident there, fulbright.
The young forehead had untied haid rushed to upside
The bright eyes had a gaze, unhesitant
It comes to my mind, why there is not any crisis, ensuing
Saving civilization from, to make this life glorious, charismatic, flying.
Dear 2024,
I hope this poetic vow
wouldn’t be shunned,
as I block negativity
from my phone,
like my bitter exes.
And forgive my sense
of humor that
resembles sour grapes,
like a dash of salt
and pepper sprinkled
on top of old drapes.
Perhaps, as this
year bids adieu,
I’ll find the right
ingredient to concoct
sparkling wine infused
with giggles that
age like
chucklesome limericks,
as I fine-tune the
empty spaces
of my scribbled
pages with hilarity.
I’ll learn to laugh a
little louder and hope
the ebb of every
comical tale can flow.
Maybe a stricter
chocolate diet would
help me see the
sweeter side of
powdered comedians,
sharpening my wit
as endorphins enhance
my ability to spot
the depth of puns
punctuated
with bizarre tones.
And as December rain
drizzles in symphony
of the darkness
my quill flaunts,
pardon these
peculiar metaphors,
I’ll raise a glass
of crocodile tears,
a toast for
more concise poetry,
and faces I’ve phased,
that I’ll no longer
vent about in vain verses.
Cheers to the
festival lights
on wheel of laughter,
may the florescence
forever flicker as
souvenirs of amusement.
I’ll dance into the
rising sun of a new year,
in an odyssey adorned
with shimmering dreams
embalmed in
tickling mint leaves.