Long Stricture Poems
Long Stricture Poems. Below are the most popular long Stricture by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stricture poems by poem length and keyword.
He was in love, deep, romantic love.
She was standoffish, aloof, above,
no need for pointless ideas thereof.
It was forbidden, like fox and dove.
His clay a gritty earthy mixture.
Hers a sweet creamy marble picture
of comfort, a permanent fixture.
His secret love a proscribed stricture.
So he sat at her feet each long day
writing the love words he could not say.
He greatly feared from her side to stray
lest someone come and take her away.
He searched for the same magic by night
that brought him to life and gave him sight.
Hoping that her stone wings would take flight
and sweep them from this piteous plight.
First look, glasses as my eyes glance
From left to right I begin to read
Much as if I were in a trance
My education faulted for this deed
Second look with randomness I search
Looking for a pattern, no not the glasses
Does this person attends a formal church
This poem is one of their trespasses
Third look now the compulsion takes me
The poem was edited to fit the picture
But I say this isn’t possible, it can’t be
If so they surely deserve a stricture
Three looks, glasses or not, all were done in vain
If you copy, paste, add punctuation then it’s plain
Poem by Wayland Bunch for Occlusion contest. This is a rhymed form of poetry under 20 lines, but technically it fits better into the category of Sonnet, so I don't know if it will be accepted. If not back to the drawing board lol.
Futile flippant,
rules and obscure,
mousetrap pitfalls,
scurrilous lure,
to faze green novice,
unsuspecting candidate,
contestant sworn to zeal,
might pause when enjoined,
to allow one’ s muse,
lithe elastic scope,
supple latitude,
without reckless reign,
or barren folly,
however cunning ploys,
lay-by lurk dithers,
yet without prior notice,
draws, dupes, deceives,
but these are caveats,
when stricture is,
shrouded in vague,
plumes of hazed,
thin veiled hair-split,
one stumbles
and fumbles over,
whilst glazed glance,
skips blindly over,
cues, clues, clause,
tip-offs to
shady motives,
motifs! ulterior.
PRISONER OF POETRY
Is it me in this verse, a strange insight for sure
As it is someone who I don’t really recognise
Am I writing these words, or someone inside
If so, who might be playing the role of a guide
And don’t be too hasty in saying that it’s wise
As if it is encouraged, it will create even more
So, do I have any remaining control of words
Or now, a helpless prisoner of poetry and lost
Could it be a monster that I somehow released
Or that crazy idea that I thought was deceased
Allowing my creativity to dominate at any cost
Not even free to separate the whey from curds
The stanzas and lines do paint a strange picture
As the person in these verses can’t really be me
It’s my hand that appears to be gripping the pen
I should try closing my eyes and counting to ten
And can’t even walk away sane from this fantasy
Now bound by metaphor and subject to stricture
The poem is done, yet it describes someone new
As if I’m in a whole new and different dimension
An exposed inner self, that I never knew existed
Perhaps all this time, a side of me I just resisted
But I just have to stop this to relieve the tension
And I must look deeper inside, to see if it’s true
What If Destiny...
Deeded Mine Singular Default Mode To...
Communicate (temporarily,
strictly and hypothetically)
merely allowing me to burble
essentially rendering, limiting,
and fixing me tubby nonverbal,
where frustration ensued -
inducing passivity, asper myself
shrugging shoulders in resignation
coon sitter ring thy fate
nsync with that of a gerbil?
Thus codifying, con
fining, and consigning
stricture to a sorry lot
perhaps finding me
envying fun
Gus of ergot,
which organism at least participates
in a pro active life cycle,
though one may say,
said organism doth rot.
Now...all Joe King aside,
an attempt will be made tried
though daunted to cogitate beside
Ritch ching deep inside
and remain on - ride
ding the straight and true
so please dont chide
restricting me to bide
with guise of seriousness,
when aye decide
did to complete on
par tragedy thalidomide
wrought, yet this poem, though belied
and bedeviled pondering
how Yukon not induce tongue re:
totally tubularly restrained,
sans tubby unable to talk
plus afflicted with autism,
hence guide
did through extreme effort
pretending, thus
to feign being denied
critical skill to chat
with a snap allied
(NOT with van knit tee),
but dead seriousness try
ying with futility hypothetically
impossible to imagine tubby
accursed without means to speak
compounded by autism,
an immeasurable frustration
must mount inside,
viz unfortunate behavioral demeanor,
nonetheless I cried
inside when the limp deceased body of
six year old
Maddox Ritch – already died,
drowned mainly supposedly,
when dashing ahead,
he didst play hide
with his father (Ian Ritch),
while the special needs child
(unknowingly) both spent
final hours together
bonding at Rankin
Lake Park in Gastonia
within North Carolina.
In all things, give thanks.
Surrounded,
overwhelmed by disassociating depression,
learn gratitude.
Gratitude, a sacred noun,
positive attitude, a secular verb phrase.
Depression and gratitude,
depressed impress.
Impossibly essential
potential.
Suppression and hope.
Hope in and through
blind and deaf as faith,
senseless passion dispowering position
over doubling down negative consequences
co-arising dissonant experience
with resonant resolutions.
Repressing naked clarity,
dualdark yet light-squared
and cubed
in fractal dialects
of holy, trauma,
sacred enslavement,
immortal despair.
Desecrated Earth
by commodified inhumanity,
capitalized corporate stricture,
giving thanks
for dawn's promised dusk.
Within,
above,
below all,
giving thanks without receiving praise,
re-acclimating gratitude,
humbling attitude.
Great commissions,
emissions,
omissions;
elevating attitudes
descending through our past.
Elevators rise to fall to rise
within great and small
freedoms of commission.
Paradise fulfills embryonic passion
as pleasure grows roots in healthcare faith
emerging from fragile hope,
contagious absence of distrust's despair.
Desperation limns failed aspirations
lacking pathological denial,
returning Earth's holistic trust
with humanity's mistrust,
light squared lust
disturbing dualistic darkness.
Energy's massive capital,
our degenerating god
of depressing idolatry.
Craven subsidies
defy investments in future health
of divestments from past pathologies.
Information capitalizes derivatives of energy,
as exformation departs from pregnant entropy.
Great commissions
of gratifying robust relationships
grow from small omissions
of history's dissonant mistrust.
In all trusted passions
and distrusted pains,
give thanks.
When closed are mine eyes
I can see only those butterflies
Surrounding me and my prince
Ouch, a wake up back does wince!
A great man, all white in beard
All acclaimed and well feared
He speaks with the sound of thunder
And glares at the sight of blunder
Should you ever wonder
Who is mine own wonder
Why? He is in my heart
Kept as a secret sweetheart
That one great man, so well known
For him, I shall go to those ways still unknown
Someone I cannot name
For so great is his fame
Such a man do I admire
As my own identical peer
Such a man I shall dance with
Even if to have a dance shall have me in grieve
A tango, a waltz or even a slow
Whichever style the melody will flow
In him I shall lose my stricture
And bear with his own pleasure!
Earth bound soul went about it’s quest
Burdened by desires on his chest
Enmeshed in fears, by ego spawned
Dark despair, hoping to be blest
Before many gods, this soul fawned
Yet clear light of truth never dawned
Trapped by ritual and scripture
Felt wisdom for knowledge was pawned
Head and heart chasm, ego puncture
Widened by dos and don’ts stricture
Sound current ohm, amen, the word
Within heart, paints the true picture
Rebel, a nerd, followed not herd
Until bliss throb, within him stirred
Recognising God dwells within
Vaporised self, free like a bird
No sooner he chose to begin
Pilgrim felt rapture on his skin
Emanating from joyous heart
Luminous presence, free from sin
Voids filled when love added to cart
He saw all are one, none apart
Being by God Himself so breathed
Love and light His beauteous art
16-December-2021
God rest ye merry gentleman
Thank the Lord that you are able
By devious manipulation to
Keep the turkey on the table;
All praise to those good bankers
Who in spite of committed fraud
Maintained the Status Quo
For which we thank thee Lord;
All hail to the Establishment
Who in spite of envious stricture
Have made it more possible
For the rich to get much richer;
Our blessing on the poor
At this blessed time of Yule
Long delayed may be the time
They cease being so easy to fool.
In humble display of
How sincere are our thanks
We’ll donate our table scraps
To a couple of food banks;
All hail the Brexit process
For nothing is more surer
The rich may not get much richer
But the poor will sure get poorer;
God Rest ye Merry Businessman
Vast profits may you display
All hail the secularisation
Of this Modern Christmas Day.
Amen
To your achromatic canvas
fresh without a mark upon it,
I'll paint a crimson road of chance
and a bright tangerine bonnet.
With detail, I'll add two young girls,
coffee-skinned lasses without cream,
made sweet by their long, dark tresses
and hopes for that bonnet, their dream.
Down the middle of this tableau
I'll trace a canal in cyan
which crosses the road - a stricture
twixt girls, the bonnet and their plan.
A well-bronzed boy and russet raft
I'll sketch to solve this small wrinkle.
Then I'll craft a second bonnet;
this one colored periwinkle.
While this image seems incomplete
in your mind's eye, with poet's brush
you will create a final scene
of flamboyance. No need to rush.
written: August 1, 2012