Long Sups Poems
Long Sups Poems. Below are the most popular long Sups by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sups poems by poem length and keyword.
Grief comes uninvited, like a marauder,
like a one man army charging,
he makes an unexpected onslaught.
A thief in the dark who comes stealthily,
without pausing to seek permission
and settles in the heart like an intruder
His stay is long and tedious.
He eats away our vitality,
sups on our vulnerability,
sucks our life sap and fattens on our gloom.
Like a tenant who hasn’t paid
a single dime as rent, he invites our wrath!
Even under threat, he would never vacate
It is at night, he revels
and makes the most fierce onslaught
He snubs out our sleep, disturbs our calm
Wide eyed, we have to watch
the nasty antics of this tyrant
He drives out all hope,
battles with our cheer,
evicts all positive vibes,
and invades the entire space.
Weaving sticky gossamer threads
to ensnare all happy thoughts
which come our way and like an ugly spider,
he arrogantly dwells in our heart!
__________________________________
Sept. 11.2022
~ Placed First~
Pick a Title, Vol.32. Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Edward Ibeh
Though I can hold my branch the whole year long,
I sometimes lose my grip upon the tree;
A cheeky cockatoo with beak so strong,
Or racing winds that hurry to be free.
My falling journey brings both fear and joy,
While looking up, I see my brothers bound;
What cruel winds and hungry birds destroy,
Will join our fallen kindred on the ground.
The monster sups upon our brittle bark,
And swallows all my world in blinding gold;
Yet waiting in this fierce, devouring spark,
A greater, green rebirth will soon unfold.
Though I am turned to dust upon the floor,
My ash will feed the native bush once more.
Poet's Note:100% Human-Written.This poem is a strict Shakespearean sonnet, written entirely by hand in perfect iambic pentameter with an exact ABAB CDCD EFEF GG rhyme scheme. Please be aware that AI detection tools frequently flag this piece as "100% AI" because they rely on finding rhythmic irregularity and metrical variance. The strict meter is a deliberate, human-crafted artistic constraint.
waterfall trickles
thawing ice releases drops...
moss 'pon rocks turns green
The frozen giant tower
Great mighty melting water
waterfall's moisture
seeps as spring awakes nature..
deer sups deep from stream
rain from mountain top
turns to mist as it comes down..
rainbow in my eyes
The bridal veil waterfall
Seen through Azaleas' blossoms
early morning scents
come blooming into my life..
melting waterfall
Rengay collaboration between myself and Russell Sivey..
We have been working on this for a few days now..
I wrote first, third, and fifth
Russell wrote second, fourth, and sixth
Peridot
Of all the fine gems that I know, my favorite is Peridot.
My August birthstone pleases me, since color green and I agree.
Now, Peridot is lesser-known among most gemstones that are shown.
It once was called 'Gem Of The Sun', and Cleopatra's most loved one.
Egyptian scrolls say priests had cups, adorned with Peridot for sups;
that Peridot empowered them to speak with Gods thru this fine gem.
Ancient Hawaiian history, says stones are tears of dear Pele,
the Goddess of volcanoes, fire; her gift from earth they so admire.
Mysterious, some crystals of our Peridot, came from above,
in pallasite meteorites, a gift from space that sure delights.
Our Peridot is only seen in varied shades of color green.
Most other gemstones will be found in multi colors 'neath the ground.
Smithsonian Museum shows a famous Peridot which glows...
a forty-six plus karat stone from Pakistan, and is well-known.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: A Gem For Your Verse
Sponsor: Carolyn Devonshire
Judged: 10/26/2016
Form: Iambic Octameter
(16 syllables, 8 feet per line; 8th and 16th syllable rhyme in each line)
Notes:
Peridot is pronounced: PER-i-doh
Pallasites contain crystals of Olivine, which in its purest form
is known as the semi-precious gemstone Peridot.
A black widow spider spins a silk thread
into a near-transparent dream catcher;
filling her with joy, and her meals with dread.
A very cunning, deadly flycatcher
ready to pounce and mummify her food:
she lies in wait, like a body snatcher.
Any damaged web gets quickly renewed
with her sticky silk, resetting her trap:
so, struggling insects remain firmly glued.
She secures victims in a woven wrap:
ensuring they remain alive and fresh
until she sups: draining them of their sap.
Liquefying bugs, entangled in mesh:
she flaunts a scarlet hourglass belly patch
and fangs that inject poison into flesh.
Males must escape as soon as they detach,
for to this femme fatale, they're a fair catch.
Inside the water
where they float or sway in their rusting roots
are horse tackle,
buggies,
unhinged parts of eighteen wheelers,
a girl on a tricycle, her bones still cycling in the drifting meld
circle squirrel and possum pelts,
The sludge of a dredging flow
tows bodiless pockets of former times.
No one can tell what is missing, what is still surfacing,
what is now lathered into womb-bearing suds.
A wake nibbles banks, it heaps up
headless pomades,
a filigree of funnel cake,
cotton candy,
half drunken sups of rum,
antedeluvian arrow heads,
the painted missing parts of the once and will be.
A momentous loss drifts by, is found by stooping gulls,
their screams almost musical
on a carousel wind.
Under the brittle reeds late summer copulates with
eddy,
churn
and jism.
There are corroding blooms between spent shotshells,
condoms colonize cattails,
belt buckles beckon
to forsaken underwear
that blossom now like pale squid.
The river slops together every wind-plowed recipe,
blends the newly-unearthed
with the long abandoned.
A backwash seeps moon-spills,
or drives a John Deere deeper into boggy entrails,
while barges slowly push each muddy footprint
toward empty shoes,
sunken slippers,
pumps,
loafers and boots
dropped somewhere between Pittsburg and the Mississippi
yet still moving along.
Another Christmas day is finally here
The very thought fills me with such fear
I have to try and control my old Aunty Mable
Once she hits the gin she gets very unstable
Uncle Arthur rushes in and opens the sherry
then sups half the bottle and gets really merry
He begins to sing carols at the top of his voice
I put up with the din… I don’t have much choice!
The last to arrive are old Gladys and Bert
Bert always wears his distasteful Santa shirt
Gladys walks through the door and starts to moan
I wish Bert would leave the old cow at home!
She whines from the moment she removes her coat
And heads for the sofa and grabs the remote
Demanding she has her dinner on her knee -
There’s some crap on the TV that she wants to see
I politely tell Gladys the dinner table is set
And the film will be repeated of that you can bet
So she sits at the table and picks at her starter
then moans very loudly to poor Uncle Arthur
The table’s soon laden with wonderful food
But Gladys is seething, she’s so blinking rude
She says the turkey’s tasteless and it's bone dry
So I pass her the gravy and I try not to cry
Bert finishes the bowl of chestnuts and sprouts
He’ll be passing foul wind in copious amounts
After rich figgy pud he crams in six mince pies …
It’s no wonder he’s gross with huge wobbly thighs
They descend on me each and every year
And eat all my food my wine and my beer
Then we open the gifts that lie under the tree
As per usual they bring just one present for me
Gladys has knitted me a horrendous jumper
it's two sizes too large, I just want to thump her
I dutifully put in on and I feign my delight …
but it will be in the rubbish bin later tonight!
At three we watch The Queen on the telly
Bert’s farting begins; the room gets so smelly
Within minute’s they’re snoring away in their chair
I retreat to the kitchen and silently swear
By the time they wake up all the dishes are done
The doorbell rings; thank god their taxi has come!
This is the LAST time they'll take advantage of me …
Cos I've booked a yule cruise on the Caribbean sea!
Fiction write
12/14/17
My August birthstone pleases me,
for shades of green and I agree.
And of the fine gems that I know,
my favorite is Peridot.
Now, Peridot is lesser-known
among most gemstones that are shown.
It once was called 'Gem Of The Sun',
and Cleopatra's most loved one.
Egyptian scrolls say priests had cups,
adorned with Peridot for sups;
that Peridot empowered them
to speak with Gods with this fine gem.
Ancient Hawaiian history,
says stones are tears of dear Pele,
the Goddess of volcanoes, fire;
her gift from Earth they so admire.
Mysterious, some crystals of
our Peridot came from above,
in pallasite meteorites,
a gift from space that sure delights.
Our Peridot is only seen
in varied shades of color green.
Since hues of green and I agree-
my August birthstone pleases me!
The wolves do lope high and free
in mountainous trails and her masonry
the hallowed wood and rocky clefts
hold the dens of their hidden nests
Golden eyes pierce thickened dark
hunting prey within their park
hot breath raises mist in their flight
with urges to run in thick of night
lounging with the pack on a hill
neath the moon silent and still
The forest with all her rookery
cast eyes below to the pack they see
the cold crypt of the earth below
blood covered in splays of snow
pale ice rugs flow on ground and rocks
as the pack do run seeking the flocks
the burrow of the white wolf and her pups
upon her milk the fledgling sups
the shiver of their meal in deathly gore
lying torn apart on the forest floor
the sinuous beauty of their agility
of taking prey down with ability
The dominate male and alpha mate
are always first in hunger to slate
how many priests have nature of pack
are hidden in darkness and innocence lack
looking for victims the prey that they stalk
in secret places the plans of it talk
Religion that is false will slaughter the sheep
to not be it’s prey the truth you must keep
her princes are wolves ravening prey
the word of the truth they seek to stay
they would come clothed in appearance of light
but within the gown is blackness of night
With a flood of lies He seeks to deceive
and devour the hearts of those who believe
The serpent lays in the den of his mate
The Queen of Harlots , Babylon the Great
Ez 22:27 Zeph 3:2-4 Matt 7:15-16
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
Life goes through a controlled cycle
All that live must die
Else, would we not be objects of shadows
Trying to accomplish feats which are so unnatural?
God, an entity which we have not yet understood
Is good to all of existence
Since He creates, He also needs to destroy
Merely to allow the wheel of fate to keep on revolving
Since He creates, He created an entity to help him
In destroying that which he brought to be,
Death, in all its splendour!
God walks warmly alongside death
As the fate meant for those who died
Will be depending upon their own actions
The wheels have to keep turning
While God needs to keep feeding the universe:
Souls just transit through Earth
And their tendency is evaluated before they get sent
To there which suits them best;
Whether in highly spiritual places
Or down below the murkiest hell fires!
God is content in having created Death
God walks beside him and engages in conversations with him
God sups with him and even shares jokes with him
While we remain under the control of their will
Unable to be anything else other than
Lit dandelions blown in the vast sea of the universe!