Long Stunner Poems
Long Stunner Poems. Below are the most popular long Stunner by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stunner poems by poem length and keyword.
I was a successful, fashionable florist, in mild green days of elegant gardens,
When an orange sun beamed its pleasure, like locales where lavender begins.
I formed arrangements for many occasions, drawing beauty lovers from afar,
As pretty planets arrange for a meeting, after wild rumors of the newest star.
And crowded hours were filled with summer, like pearly dews crowd morning,
Until ruby butterflies are playing tag, and gemmed damselflies are swarming.
Friends felt I might always be found, in some area of flush bloom fragrancies,
Like raven midnight's march to daybreak, with its warm, varicolored agencies.
Fond family held festive feasts, in fading hours of sparkly, fuchsia sun falling,
As whippoorwill songs clashed with red robin's, midst magenta stars gawking.
I lived in the house of tangy, saturated noon, when flowers were in full glory,
Like the most beautiful day of a woman's life, when a bride she's come to be.
Scarlet, saffron and other hues glittered, within the soulful sector of summer,
As starlings sang songs along my street, and sun rose and retired, a stunner!
Neighbors were nomadized at times, as honeydew moon nestles in new night,
When visiting me on eves of silk and satin, when fresh June was at its height.
Silver clouds were saddled with summer sun, in suddenly days of sweet rose,
Like grey encumbering smoke from autumn fires, when in plum mists it flows.
Raven noon was in green treetops, as the inarticulate ravens were squawking,
And fading time seemed to stand still, but ephemeral moments kept walking.
One day I woke to a gorgeous view from my window, daisies pink and yellow,
In the wide field right next to my house, glowing in the rich, sunshine mellow!
It put such a smile on my face, oh my! Like flocks of pretty blue jays going by,
And I kept seeing daisies everywhere I went, like a pearlescent moon on high!
I beheld African daisies and shasta, and pom pom-like chrysanthemum ones;
Along with fine lustrous gerberas, in all colors found, in wild green kingdoms.
I wondered at my strange, good fortune, in seeing beloved blooms anywhere;
Like the young, butterscotch days when Mother said, 'We're going to the fair!'
For awhile, I saw sweet daisies by day, and it seems I dreamt daisies at night;
Like a brief mystic spell of rapture, when hidden beauty's freed from its plight.
RAPPERS & LEGENDS IN THE UFC
In the Octagon, where fists collide,
All Eyez on we, the view is worldwide.
This battle's a wild mix of might & rhythm,
But when the ref calls time, it's all for a gold limb.4
Tupac enters first with ferocity and might,
Throwing rhyme-punches at anything in sight.
Shakur is a warrior with words that pierce,
In the cage, his passion is so fierce.8
Biggie Smallz steps in, swagger and style,
His lyrics hit hard, his punches fueled by guile.
A heavyweight with rhymes so smooth,
In the UFC, his flows would make crowds groove.¹²
Eminem jumps in, the lyrical genius unbound,
With lightning speed, his opponents confound.
The real Slim Shady proves he's the lyrical master,
His rapid-fire knocks out opponents faster.¹6
Here comes Kendrick Lamar, a UFC pro.
In the octagon, he brings the flyest flow.
A warrior poet, he weaves a lyrical spell,
Knocks-out his foes before the jingle of the bell.²°
50 Cent's in the ring, ice cold, bold & untamed,
Knocking out opponents, leaving them maimed.
When he brings the Gorilla Units, there's tremor
But when he's solo, he's sharp as a razor.²4
Snoop Dogg's turn, laid-back, swag & chill,
His flow hypnotizes, his punches kill.
Unleash him in the cage, watch him brag
With hit smash, he's always on track.²8
Lil' Wayne joins the fight, tattooed and bold,
His wordplay stings, his punches take hold.
Young Mulla won't back down from any rap mission,
His punches hit hard like a lyrical collision.³²
Wiz Khalifa enters, smooth like no other,
His punches light up foes, he's a stunner!
With his cold-chill swag & cool demeanor,
He brings the smoke & reigns like the guvnor.³6
And last but not least, Travis Scott takes a stand,
His melodic punches echo through the land.
Trap Music King with energy on full blast,
In the Octagon, his performance would last.4°
As the rappers clash in this UFC rap quest,
Their words like punches put their skills to the test.
Each with their own unique vibe and flair.
Envision the battles they would share.44
As the crowd roars, this sight appeared sublime,
Their applause jubilant, returning us from the dream,
For in this arena, these rappers reign supreme.47
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright ©? December 2023.
>>1111>>Knocking on your dreams door>1111>>Quincy Mac<<1111<<
date written: 11.23.2015
OK another adventure in the mad poet’s life,
This occurred just before I met Jane, my imaginary wife.
Jane’s brother, Glen had set me up with a blind date
He said the girl was a stunner, I could not wait
So dressed in me stripe trouser with me chequer tank top vest
I oiled me baldhead and let the old spice do the rest
Off I went down town to meet Deglet Noor (that was her name)
Glen said, “If you see her lips you’ll want to kiss them more and more.”
Then I saw her, and dam what a blind date
She was lumpy like custard with an all eye seeing Rottweiler that made me fearfully
hesitate.
She looked like a bulldog chewing on a bee
And the Rotter was eyeing me leg as if it wanted to hump me
I thought to myself, give the girl a meal
Then we call it a day and that was the deal
She chose this uptown place where rich people dined
A French restaurant with snails and frogs legs, you know the funny kind
I had a steak, she had prawns and a lobster too
And she persuaded me by force to drink champagne form her trainer shoe
When she ate poor lobster it was a terrible gore
I wish she could have taken a tip from Sir Robert Hinshaw
When we finished the waiter brought the bill and waited for me to pay
£1500 bloody pounds, my bowels almost gave way
I said to him “We not finished yet. Could we have Ice cream and coffee?”
And I said “Oh and don’t forget the mint toffee”
Me credit card was on strike and would not handle that amount
It was time for me to exit time to get out
So when the waiter had gone I told her I was going to the loo
Said to her I needed to off load a number two
In a terrible panic I managed to squeeze through the window, hitting the deck
I punched the air shouting “Yes!” followed by an “Oh F-ck” and “What the Heck”
I had fallen into the kitchen and not outside you see
The head chef said “We built it this way to stop people like you stealing from me”
Five weeks on and 100000 dishes later,
If I stayed any longer I’m sure I would have been promoted to head waiter
Nevertheless, If you do come across Glen give me a shout
Tell him the mad poet is looking to blow his brains out
**For my sweet Delysia Hendricks who asked me to write this poem**
**Deglet Noor is a date that you eat if you didn't know**
I knew my ancestry and my dad was a joiner,
But verged on disowning my mum for labour,
Not married in history yet throbbing with spark,
Love, truth, kindness fibered the gelled dark.
A stunner - intelligent, muscular but sensitive,
The royal in me saw the people as plaintiff,
As steering the vile lark of determining troughs,
In a grass-roots democracy to nullify the toffs.
Prolific at speeches, education never lacked,
Peeking as child into the ear in discern I jacked,
I knew nothing was unproven, cleanliness won,
Joules inside quenched the human sown son.
In the health profession I beamed, overcame, won,
Differences waged exacted to desecrate the sum -
Poor, minority, stealthy and dragon ignored asunder,
No equality known to hook the solid, base shelter.
Mobile, but wherever I tread met haters and lovers,
Pranced about suckered by vulgar ruling bearers;
Taught children life and followers’ carers’ quick,
Stead ahead hailed by the people as their wick.
Freedom held my blink until shown as the trait -
Real by weight for the sick to crop myself as bait.
Therefore human aim, space, time shouted ball,
‘Cos the individual is right, by the pinnacle, wall.
My twelve friends accepted my way and my mind,
Chose to love crook, crank or by altruism behind,
Meant rear - banned and ashore, but fully sentient,
No restorative, candid deeds to strike ambivalent.
People glued came to see me - the Nile drawn,
Dealt troubles without ways n’ routes to spawn;
Yet state and common folks both, themselves,
Killed me for a movement shooting with shelves.
But those many who loved me would never forget,
Forged sail by the integral identity never truly set:
They said afterwards that my substance, way, holds,
It’s life that affords me, not the shined, bold folds.
There was a court case and everything, a slot,
When they asked if I was a god, king, mad, a shot:
Dumb. Bitter I’d gone and cut short, they said I’d live,
Within them as their memory as the cultural give.
My existence is not a point - your location, for always:
It’s not belief in me that matters but it's your sways;
Your life is important and it's your existence that calls,
MLK, Lincoln, Walker ball for the sentient, rugged stalls.
Who am I?
Singing Song
The song that wakes my heart today,
Was song that blew my mind away.
Long before now I must say,
That’s song; I’ve long for days.
But I’ve never been propitious
To storm a solo so auspicious
Like this very one source
Which by thought, he’s success.
This song is an inspiration of its own.
That the composer and performers,
Were not, in their looks and steps,
Very easy with this stunning stunner.
Avalanche of exaltation and extolment
Of the Divine, the Architect and the Seer,
Were in whole, parts of this cadence,
That raised roofs by sparks of thunder.
This song, oh, is beautiful,
That the angels heard and came to town.
For the creator I learnt was heal,
When he penned this enchanting down.
True to God who made me,
Have never found handsome lyrics as his.
For no matter realm the originator was,
Would love a tete-a-tete with him or his.
For the blessings his ink had dropped,
Is a hold of more than thousand years
Oh, you the faithful, this drop;
Embedded verses that dry plenteous tears.
The song that wakes my heart today,
Was song that blew my mind away.
Long before now I must say,
That’s song; I’ve long for days.
But I’ve never been propitious
To storm a solo so auspicious
Like this very one source
Which by thought, he’s success.
This song is an inspiration of its own:
Avalanche of exaltation and extolment,
That raises roofs by sparks of thunder.
This song, oh, is beautiful.
True to God who made me,
Would love a tete-a-tete with him or his.
For the blessings his ink had dropped,
Embedded verses that dry plenteous tears.
This song that wakes my heart today,
Was song that blew my mind away.
Long before now I must say,
That’s song; I’ve long for days.
But I’ve never been propitious
To storm a solo so auspicious
Like this very one source
Which by thought, he’s success.
Oh, you the faithful!
This hold more than thousand years:
Avalanche of exaltation and enrollment
Of the Divine, the Architect and the Seer.
True to God who made me,
Have never found handsome lyrics as his.
For no matter realm the originator was,
Would love a tete-a-tete with him or his.
14/3/1434 ___15/1/2014
©Abdulhafeez Oyewole.
I have great respect for you, and I have refused to take any of you for granted, even though I have never experienced your presence. Even though we do not always understand, I know that everything that God has created has also been given a time and purpose.
You are a mighty force to be reckoned with. I know that it is not your fault and that it is even beyond your control. The dear people of Texas suffered the wrath of Hurricane Harvey just a few days ago. He was a category 4 storm, and you, Irma are coming across the Caribbean as a category 5.
One loss of life is one too many, but with Harvey there were comparatively small numbers of lives lost. We are hoping and praying that God will hear our cry for lives to be spared by you also. One thing is sure: we can prepare for you and pray to God, because only God can control you.
You have been next to impossible to predict, and the models cannot get a real fix on you. You are strong; you are huge; and your winds speeds of 185 MPH are probably historical. Unfortunately, you might change all the rules about hurricanes. There is nothing like you, and you may be the most powerful in history. At 18 miles per hour, at least you are moving faster than Harvey, and that is a good thing for which we are grateful.
For Atlantic hurricanes like yourself, there is a list of names for every six years. So the 2017 list will be used again in 2023. This cycle changes if a storm is so deadly or costly that the use of it's name is deemed inappropriate. It is retired and removed from the rotation. For example, to name a few: Matthew 2016, Sandy 2012, Irene 2011, and Katrina 2005 are hurricane names that have been retired. Your name and Harvey's will not appear again. We also pray that no hurricane like you will ever cross the Caribbean again.
09062017 PS Contest #2, Another 2017 Stunner. Line Gauthier, 3P; Late October Standard, Brian Strand
He sat at the bar,
She had just left
To use the restroom,
And he pondered
His situation.
Yes,
She was beautiful,
Curves in the right places,
Weave perfectly done,
Not a track in sight,
Outfit exhibiting all
That God had blessed her with,
But.....
But she spent more time
In the hairdresser's chair
Than she spent in bookstores.
Philosophical conversations
Left him confused and
He was a philosophy major.
Yes,
She was pretty,
But she was like
A beautiful vase,
Pretty on the outside,
Empty on the inside.
He sat at the bar,
Trying to put words together
Kind enough
Not to damage her ego,
Strong enough
To let her know
That they were over.
Words pulled him
From his thoughts,
They came from somewhere
Behind him,
They were a mix of
Male and female,
Peppered with a rhetoric
His mind hungered for.
Slowly, he turned around,
Searching the bar
For a couple
In deep conversation.
They sat two yards away,
Two book ends,
Brother and sister.
He sipped his whiskey,
Pretending to be taking in
The whole bar scene,
But he was really
Fixated on her,
Fixated on the dialogue.
She was no stunner
By society's standards,
But the more she spoke,
The more he was enamored.
She glance his way
And smiled, not knowing
That in that gesture
She stole his heart.
Just as he was about
To stand,
To join them,
To introduce himself,
To join this battle of words,
His woman appeared.
She whispered naughty things,
Delicious, seductive things,
Things that would have made
Him forget himself.
Not this time,
Or any time in the future.
He spread out the
Roughly sewn patchwork
Of words he had planned to tell her,
Then he bid her goodbye,
Slipping out of her grasp.
He didn't join
The brother and sister,
He just walked out of the bar.
He was not that kind of guy,
The kind that would
Break up with one woman
And pursue another
In the space of five minutes.
It was two weeks later
When he saw the sister again,
This time, he joined her,
This time, he introduced himself,
This time, he planned to be with
A woman that stimulated him
Mind, body and soul.
Form:
My spiritual APATHY has
d r o w n in the waters of a dead reverie,
my intense desperation has
washed up along the frigid arctic tidal shore.
In this time of remorse
I hold onto moments of despondency,
for DESPAIR prevails...
once more.
When the tides crash,
my futility becomes hope-
when the holy waters drip,
is when I can no longer cope.
Misery has become my w e a k n e s s,
trivial ANGUISH has been held with desire.
The chills of a fever runs down my spine,
burning my soul into e t e r n a l fire.
For I can no longer see what is mine,
as this DEJECTION has brought me higher.
I walk the narrow line...
one last time.
When founts cascade,
I hear imperfection-
I crave divinity,
a blissful connection.
Ten thousand wars have come,
FIVE THOUSANDS more to arrive.
I've been t r a p p e d in fate's fear
without the motivation to survive.
I am crippled when pain does appear,
and with each breath death comes with insecurity.
I'm a willow weeping, each barren branch reminds me of...
life's obscurity.
When mountains crumble,
my contentedness flees-
it's only constant heartache,
that my CRAVING SOUL sees.
NA in contest: CONTEST NO 365, any theme,
any form, max of 25 lines
Judged: 11/19/2017 2:43:00 PM
Another 2017 Stunner Poetry Contest
Date Written: October 11, 2017
My cocoon tightens –colors tease
I am feeling for the air
A dim capacity for wings
Demeans the dress I wear
1099 - Emily Dickinson
Butterfly- A Glosa
My potential, held in a chrysalis,
I hide within a shadowed niche,
safe from mischief and the curious,
time stands still for my strange seed.
Buds of my wings, flimsy as flowers,
grow from leaf nectar with ease.
In grub miasma I am geometry concealed;
a rainbow of speckles
secretly forming in tiny degrees.
My cocoon tightens- colors tease.
Outside a gentle, scented atmosphere,
stirs memories of my once, segmented self,
sucked to wind tossed leaves, green
of their green, protected by dapple;
a puzzle of leafy camouflage.
I gorged there, naked and bare,
then wove around me a fine cocoon,
I was the spinner, and the loom,
quietly suspended now I must dare.
I am feeling for the air.
I am feeling for the sun,
cell by cell, a squeezing permutation
diligently shedding grub matter.
A framework, a pattern, a nectar tongue
coiled for long throats of flowers to come,
poised for pastoral whisperings
I struggle to unfold.
A magic, a beauty stunningly brief,
I hold, like all mystical things,
a dim capacity for wings.
My feelers, living dopplers’ vibrate
I shimmer, transparent gossamer.
I gather energy, I tremble for flight,
I tumble with garden blest wings.
A brief portrayal of immortal life,
is part of the nature I bear.
I flitter, I flutter I seem to be aimless,
a symbol of ever-returning things.
Only the fragile and delicate flower,
demeans the dress I wear.
For Line’s “ A Stunner 2017 Contest
The Glosa is a Spanish form based on taking 4 lines by another poet and expanding the theme.
I have entered this in 3 or more contests and was NA’d EVERY time.
Applicable Not Applicable Contests
Contest Judged: 6/2/2019 2:03:00 PM
Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux
Placed 3rd