Long Succinctly Poems
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Voluntary unconditional surrender woke...,
Viz hitting yours truly,
when yokel egghead doth jinx
whereby ye cannot comprehend figurative
wimpy vainglory, unequivocally, tectonically,
smoldering resentments I stoke,
he doth bare his soul no joke,
no matter insight doth severely challenge
cyber surfing passersby, who attempt
to interpret courtesy
mental torture doth invoke
brutality, difficulty, futility gobbledygook,
heavily taxing your fifty
plus shades of gray
I apologetically, grudgingly (ha),
painstakingly, unwittingly... poke,
when mine broadcast
red by anonymous folk
admittedly poetically trumpeting ambiguity
overlain donned with high falutin cloak
peace be with thee courtesy this bloke.
Electronic date/time stamp permeates
within copious, illustrious,
and porous corpus callosum
hemispheric spongy sinks
mister re: mysterious as Sphinx
validation indubitably backfires
invariably induces loosed
unicellular sized rat finks
cerebral blackout courtesy
one to many drinks,
envision sucker punched by
rockin sockin robots one named
Muhammad Ali t'other Leon Spinks,
or gordian knotted cognitive kinks
bajillion befuddled blinks,
albeit feeble analogy methinks
to render genuine concomitant
convoluted, mangled, twisted... (think
Möbius strip) sentiment
specifically linkedin with
sincere appreciation meant
pertaining to this gent
despite slight trepidation
as faux Geico petsmart agent
forced celibate nun sensical chap
considering entering convent
cloistered existence remaining
days of my life get spent,
where "15 minutes
might save me, not so shabby decent
15% or more on car insurance."
Paraphrase aforementioned Matt Speak
more easily succinctly understood,
versus gibberish as ????????
(i.e. the word Greek spelled in Greek)
essentially long in the tooth fella
self anointed literate sheikh
feeble flattered fungi with
average mushroom shaped physique
trends towards playfulness
in tandem with harmless streak
merely acknowledges how his unique
self expression oft times
tongue-in-cheek
experiences giddiness at unsolicited
positive feedback versus he/she,
who doth bitingly, flagrantly,
outrageously, witheringly... critique
modesty misunderstood equivalent
of poetic (peekaboo) hide and seek
to Dani body hook ken find me
game to reveal me re: hide and seek.
two wee lads grew up in the same village---
with their houses only a short distance away
they became close friends at an early age
playing the same sports, both learning how to
play an instrument, stumbling through early flirtations with
girls & even pondering their prospective futures---
theirs was an unparalleled bromance.
upon the eve of their high school graduation,
one of the young men decided that he wanted to go to school for
marketing---
he wanted to go to school to study what he thought was a lucrative field
so that he would
sooner than later
be rolling in the benjamins---
because, with mucho benjamins came mucho power
and with mucho power came mucho women---
this all made sense to an 18 year old who had
only one thing on his mind.
the other young man was passionate
he was far too passionate to take on the business world
or to involve himself with anything
lucrative at all---
he took it upon himself to pursue his painting
with a few pit stops in other countries along the way
scrapping & meeting new people
meeting more new people & scrapping further.
and while one idea followed a distinct plan
with a definable conclusion in sight,
the other path functioned without any direction
whatsoever &
the very absence of expectation
during the whole of his travels
made the way of the second young man’s life
seemingly much more interesting than the
first’s.
over the years the two individuals lost touch as things
go---
the first graduated college, began working for a big firm,
got married & moved out to the west coast---
the second went the other direction, overseas,
never rooting anywhere for more than a bit of time.
years went by
as years do,
and in time the marketing man climbed the ladder---
his dwelling grew in size
his brood multiplied
and all seemed well in happytown.
the other, whose legs continued to cross
borders, but whose pockets never really jingled much,
he continued, without expectation.
the man with the big house &
the large family &
the jingling pockets
had planned every step so succinctly
that it seemed nothing could fail,
as each individual part thrived on the
greater monolith,
working together from within---
but at age 40 he was killed in a plane crash
with the rest of his family.
the second man kept on traveling,
he kept on painting &
he continues to
expecting nothing from this life.
Self quarantined misanthrope pitched into purgatory wham!
Ably cane resign eternal damnation (mine)
courtesy devil specially engraved telegram
prestidigitation found me vanishing shazam,
without a trace I disappeared in thin air voila
Earthly travails atop horns of dilemma ram
into me buttucks pitching yours truly ma'am
hoisted by my own petard sheepishly wool
ewe (red dully) bull heave human bug eyed
recalcitrant specimen (me) nonetheless lamb
basted skewered (think shish kabob) log jam
succinctly described helplessness to preserve
ultimately repurposed into green eggs and ham
harmless recluse no more valuable than flotsam.
Grant simple wish to withdraw into hermitage
coronavirus (COVID-19) just desserts we wage
us *****sapiens on trial across web world stage
severely misappropriating Earthly resources rage
understandable Gaia she pointedly reminds adage
inescapable comeuppance whereby our civilization
written off as atrocious, hellacious, malicious, page
poisonous primates essentially, dismally, yes clearly
bollixed, failed, leveraged, & tortured planet I gauge
hell in a handbasket ironic tragicomic fate wise sage
of yesteryear did prognosticate now we scurry hither
and yon, to and fro Smashing Pumpkins immortalize
metaphor likened each one of us as rat locked in cage
bajillion eons ago once upon a time our noble savage
ancestors levels playing field now new bacteriophage
relentlessly pits twenty first century civilization doles
microscopic organism (battling unseen enemy) voyage
around sun fraught tooth and nail powder milk biscuits
a Prairie Home Companion ruse buzzfeeding courage
for shy people (yours truly) communicating message,
albeit urgent to revamp paradigm to live social - nsync
with eco friendly coda allowing, enabling, & providing
liberty and justice for all living (colorful) things hostage
at mercy of self proclaimed superior beasts above average
with intelligence, yet rendering oblate spheroid garbage.
No major inconvenience incapacitates rather humdrum
bard (rarely bored), I wanna pitch headlong into scrum
no need to scream and shout, cuz I speak softly to mum
(Mother Earth) reassuring, she inevitably bests hoodlum
standing arrogant, boastful, deceitful comfortably numb
oblivious when day of reckoning delivers offal maelstrom.
We had a garden gnome named Griselda
the bane of our small bungalow
she was nasty and mean, at times quite obscene
the worst that you ever could know!
Her garden mate, Gregor, had feared her
but one day he mustered the nerve
with all of our backing, to send the girl packing
with cleverness, cunning and verve.
But she was vindictive by nature
and wouldn't let 'bygones' be gone
if it took all her years, she would stir up our fears
her plans were all plotted and drawn.
She waited 'til we'd quite forgotten
her villainous, vile, evil reign
then with fierce aggression, she took bold possession
of our lovely, dear, docile domain.
She poisoned the pansies and lilies
and shredded the sweet climbing vines
she disturbed my repose, when she broke the windows
with a shriek that sent chills up my spine.
She tore down my front porch swing
shattering the flowerpots and planters
mad wreckage in her wake, as she sought all to break
taking off to the back at a canter.
I squared off to defend my back garden
grabbed whatever I thought I might wield
at first, on my guard, as I entered the yard
I found she was hardly concealed...
And 'though she seemed alone in the garden
I soon found that I was mistaken
for, succinctly put- I was bound head to foot
and carried off, unhurt but shaken.
Griselda had built quite an army
it seems, in her time far away
for gremlins and trolls, from the caves to the knolls
were under her terrible sway.
They answered her orders directly
and smugly, she smiled and she smirked
a gleam in her eyes as she planned my demise
as her minions continued to work...
Heaving in stones from the quarry
they were piling them higher and higher
and my strength gave away as to my dismay
I saw they were building a pyre!
But Gregor'd escaped all their notice
as he'd hid 'neath the back garden shed
and despite his wee size, he would prove her demise
at his bellow, her company fled.
He used a cheap trick, an enchantment
that he bought from an old witch named Rue
and it seemed there were thousands (as far as the eye scanned)
of Gregors that came into view!
Her face was distorted with terror
and she promised that she'd stay away
and off like a blip- she jumped on a ship
and sailed to somewhere near Bombay.
For Anoucheka Gangabissoon
I chose to run but what would have
thing's been like if I had stayed
30 / 10 / 2022
After my Dad received his Cancer diagnosis
Later when he was eventually ready to
do so he gathered all of us his family
together and told us
And half the way through him telling us I
myself had already in my head and
heart begun to plot my escape and run away
Because that is what I do and sum's me
and who I am up ever so succinctly
And that is exactly what I did I got on
an aeroplane as fast as I possibly
could and flew away because I
couldn't run that far
Then I got that dreaded phone call from
my mum telling me if I wished to see
him before he's gone I had better
come home immediately
As his time was running out quickly
It was time to make our peace because
he is about to meet his maker
So I came back and I am so glad I did
because that may well be the best thing
I ever did and also the very best quality
time we ever actually spent
And quite frankly I was embarrassed and
should rightly have been told and been met
with vitriol by him and my mom who
had taken such dedicated loving care of him
But what difference would i have made
if I had have chosen to stay and not run away
Being brutality truthfully honest to myself
probably none not a 1 single iota thing
would have probably have changed
at all or I made better
Otherwise I would have probably stayed
and never left at all
You see that's just me in a nutshell
sill up until this day
Always, always
Running away
Never towards
Or staying
My dad always said of me I chose
to play in goal because I hated or
didn't like running and boy was he
right
Unless it came to dealing with the
realities of life itself
Then I became a world record holder
champion who could never be caught
you only ever seen the back of me
But unfortunately it's more akin to a
criminal record not 1 to be proud of
or look back with any form of pride
And for which sorry means little or
nothing at all because he deserved
far better than that
But he died I can't run away from that
or made it better if I had have chosen
to stay either way
BRUCE, HOLIDAY OR JOPLIN?
Just another genius junkie
Someone’s master and someone else's flunky
Just another genius junkie, man
Building crosses while cursing the inevitability of a plague
Writers both vehement and anything but vague
Some of them whose rhymes fell upon deafened ears until one fluent in his language finally dug deep enough into the meanderings and masquerade of his mind to find………………
Just another genius junkie, man
All of them stringing words stridently together so as to weave a web of contradictions…….
All of them with assorted and sundry addictions
Those who waded the rapid waters of a psyche wounded by worry and worried about the wounded
Pundits in pulpits
Puppets in public places
Standing on their soapbox wrought of metal keys and a thin ribbon of ink
But don’t blink
Because if you do you might go blind
Or then again you just might find………………
Just another genius junkie………………….
They didn’t roll away the stone……..
They can only describe, with excruciating exactitude, the rising of His Holy Ghost
Those wiser and infinitely more insightful than most…………………
That one made us laugh by invading the truth with his dirty words and paid the ultimate price for doing what he did to urge us forward despite our slightly embarrassed laughter
She made us cry by invading her veins with a vicious need to wave away the woe while slinging a bottle of whiskey and singing as if she knew that people like us who would kneel reverently at the alter of her song needed to hear her voice raised in majesty by a lady who ultimately proved there really is no forever after
Those defined by that which is strewn and stranded far behind
All of the conflicted who, to self-inflicted misery, were inclined
Because if you read deep enough into the fragmentary thoughts scribed onto page, or listen closely enough to a song of rage heralding a heresy, or accept a few dirty words as fundamental to the facts brought forth and quite succinctly said
dig deep enough and you’ll find just another genius junkie……………………
Just another genius junkie now so needlessly dead
© 2012……PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
Hello bosom friend
I hope you get this piece quick
oh! my bad,how do you fair?
pleasantries almost skipped my reasoning
I was told of your matrimony
From you, the seed that emanated
when you behold this thoughtful missive
and you have the whole narrative in your grip
you will unearth my heart's unfoldings
of grave grievance, no one can appease
succinctly grasp the volume of this rage
I say, read carefully through the lines
even if you have to squint through that veil
if i am to choose
between your present and past
I would say, let your past prevail
For then, I knew the essence of your smile
You weren't by hypocritical law, constrained
That face speaks of solace even ibn grimace
oh! that face speaks volume
Needless to say,you are elegant in fitted fabrics
Lost under your tutelage
You brought life to every boring cause
Your angelic beau, replicates purity of-course
You were our sunshine
Before the Arabian cowries bought you over
He came from a foreign land
And bestowed on you, a diadem
I learnt you were betrothed to an assumed cleric
The telltale notion of ardent Islamist
Raised anxiety for future occurrences
I envisaged you in this state
But won't your devotion debate
Now my memory of you is impaired
by your sudden immersion
I feel as though it's been crushed by a saw
That even while you are in front of me
I see you no more
Oh! how impelling a tenet
Evil I say
God forbid that this is of God
No!
It's a spell
From the stench of hell
That one's existence be hidden for a lifetime
To conceive a man's satisfaction
my friend
In this transition,
Did you and your aspirations converse?
How much of a communicator would you be now
Under that veil
You relegated your dreams to derelicts
Making a living in the street corners
while you remain a descendant of vague relic
A full grown lady, covered in babygro
In those chains,inform of soft clothings
Do you find comfort or otherwise
Ode to a gracious lass i used to know
Now aloof she stands with no Identity
Please when your seed shall grow
Let her have no taste of your captivity.
Don’t Talk About It—Write About It
As a writer and a poet, sometimes people ask me how I
do, what I do, every day as I research themes and topics
for poems or prose works that I want to write about and
develop for potential publication in the future.
The “how I do” and the “what I do” with regard to my
everyday writing on any given theme or group of themes
are predicated on the active notion that I don’t, as a rule,
talk idly about people, topics or themes per se, rather I go
ahead and focus exactly on a certain theme or subject of
interest, and then I begin to write about it.
What’s the magic formula for doing all of this research
and active committed work associated with professional
writing? The answer can be summarized in two words:
Hard Work! If one is not willing to engage and to put the
effort and work into any certain writing endeavor, a true
quality writing product won’t be the result.
I write because I enjoy writing very much. Poetry is the
one literary undertaking that I like to do the most. I find
often that writing poetry has helped me to focus, and then
to write on given ideas, topics or themes more succinctly.
When a person sees a book of poetry that has, for example,
200 poems listed in it, just think of each poem, in essence,
as its very own story.
Concerning the infamous “Writer’s Block” syndrome, all
I can say is that a writer or any aspiring writer just needs
to keep working away at their various writing efforts and
never give up. Having the requisite skills and talent to be
an effective and interesting writer, poet, or novelist are a
given. Yet, one also needs a high degree of raw moxie and
a measure of commitment and steadfastness too, in order
to see any writing venture or product to its end point, and
especially toward eventual publication.
My final closing thought concerning the writing of poetry
and prose, and any other literary endeavors, in general, is:
Don’t Talk About It—Write About It!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
December 31, 2018 (Narrative)
Food for thought
Our hearts are linked by an umbilical-chord;
We feed each other, food for thought.
I lay down my jacket so you can walk upon it,
To save your painted toes from getting wet.
For unbelievable beauty do I see in you my Queen;
I think your daughter sees the Devil in my beard.
I need you to fall in love at third sight,
I’ve only met you twice in this phoenix afterlife.
For as relationships die, new relationships are sought;
My aphrodisiac, you give me food for thought.
For I am lost in lust, just begging for your touch;
So soft upon this metaphor love.
Her I could love with ease, my Liege.
For in her desires I see me.
No I am not being arrogant;
I am simply saying she is Heaven sent.
After a life time of Hell, I now see my past,
Present and future tense.
She is relaxing in a bath, as I go to see if the dinner is ready yet.
The kids are asleep, or watching T.V.,
As my empathetic angel, sings so succinctly.
A song of love, inspired by me,
She tells me later as our family eats.
My love you give me food for thought.
My love for you is eternal. Please become my woman, my girl.
Your parents will always see you as their daughter, (alas)
No matter what happens, they will love you forever.
But I will always see you as a woman first and foremost
And this eternal bond between us should never be severed.
You need a Man to remind you who you are.
You shining star, you are truly inspirational.
You may feel that you are solely a Mothercare;
But I am here to show you, that you are so much more.
You are the sexiest woman on the planet,
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.
You my dear are simply J-Lo speaking Spanish;
If my tears are your nourishment, then let it rain.
(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
specified such so as to issue a rhyme,
but proceed as this scribe
doth git linkedin with the cutting crew
yet not the least whirlwind will offset
my b52 Hair style,
or hirsute shellacked beehive type do
no matter from what literary website,
an unsuspecting reader will accidentally
stumble upon a ewe
fo' mystic impression
wilt ache shape about myself
some accurate ledge gin dairy horsesense
about me will ensue,
especially if I sheepishly admitted,
this beastie boy iz a genuine foo
fighter toward this former
stone temple pilot, wildly whizzing,
gurgling in age inappropriate burbling,
dribbling, flickr ring for a goo goo
doll to dare buffer end me, hub bee of piggish,
ham handed, bay kin a poetic slop hoo
might at this juncture succinctly cease reading
prior to putting finishing touches on ma igloo
when the remaining portion of this dippily goofy,
slippery when whet, trippy treacle G.I. Jew
who would, more aptly
coon sitter himself hub
horn hug ken atheist, boot knew
not a whit about Judaism,
nor any other belief paradigm,
yet does get fixated (usually in the loo)
about philosophical ideas,
which yet to be revealed
abstract notion came to me
while enjoying a plateful of moo
goo gai pan, plus other Chinese food
(a favorite cuisine),
now aye will try to new
dill back to the initial pretext
found me drawing blanks
(no not shooting) – ooh
aah, this theme within guttersnipe noggin
more difficult to codify than one whiz
constipated and try'n might damn hard tip poo
anyway, the general premise alighted, and fired
mine gray matter cause a major cerebrum jam up
with sudden crackling star bursts forced