Long Thriller Poems
Long Thriller Poems. Below are the most popular long Thriller by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thriller poems by poem length and keyword.
(If I hadn't walked past my older brother's bedroom door
I wouldn't have realized that I needed some more)**
Ladies and Gentlemen, his time came much sooner
Then we could have imagined, now mourning this crooner
On the verge of this pinnacle, about to be on top
I speak of the memorial of one Reginald Belford Scott
Just a statement to the world with this cover
Simply to let us all know they need time to mourn for their brother
All colors, no colors, none segregated
Black placard venerated
From the opening bells tolling, decibels reverberated
To the ending with a rock n roll sermon elevated
A power punch with this Nineteen Eighties driller (all killer no filler)
Now the second bestselling album to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”
Yes, it’s plain with an embossed band’s logo
It’s a value (not a hue) as far as artists go
It leaves much to our imaginations
I think that’s on purpose, to allow ruminations
So, here’s some peace for all those who lack
Wait for the headlines, we will be “Back in Black”
Cooey have you heard the word on the streets 8 hours of absurd beats
Doff hat to old school cool cat rule in the hot seat sat every tune just phat
Over the moon we swoon legends croon only a buffoon lampoon’s the boon
Phew we hiss lost you and didn’t have a scooby doo how to cope without you
Heaven or Evan's sent hell bent to be the main event a magical musical present
Give Chris a kiss knew we’d miss the dope bliss did feed our need for more you
Like the thriller in Manila not a scintilla of filler just another bassline flotilla
No fraud or clanger all banger the concorde of chords roared in our hangar
Mr Morgan on the soundtrack tiller our melody miller our weekend’s pillar
Won’t get too gooey eyes wet a little dewy guys prime time to tell your friends
Can’t go wrong sound the gong funkier than cartoon loon Hong Kong Fuey
Every gambit & skit en song ding dong laced with wit from his Sunday pulpit
Brassy every pundit knows the culprit could only be Huey you’ll like it..stay classy
Whispers spoken…fears awoken…we all say ..there is no way whatsoever that he can play on the 2nd day..his foot’s broken..
But whatever…this is the.. oh so clever if a tad crazy .. nothing will phase me..masterplan from a remarkable cricketer…a remarkable man..
Will have a stab at it…just goes to the fab Rishabh lab and can simply do things no one else can..
Do we toast…flatter our rad madhatter batter…conventions does shatter with his inventions..but did almost beg…good intentions..don’t do it mate ..doesn’t really matter..
Watching this great hobble on one peg while his other leg…at the bottom had an egg…
What if it burst could get worse..but can’t sate his thirst..cricket comes first..
What the hell…what a delicious debacle ..was vicarious…vicious..visceral…after Stokesy’s nefarious spell…
Pant did eventually get gobbled by Archer’s pernicious wizardry of wobbles to a southpaw..
The Rishabh rascal castled.. but will never ever forget what we saw..
His foot cooked…his hand crook…but his special nook already in history booked…should it have been allowed..
But so proud..can’t be overlooked..scanned every fan in the stand…so loud..rising from their seat.....
They all bowed..so grand to see his latest feat..bowlers still briefly panned and canned..
In the perverse ..converse but always frightfully ..delightfully diverse Rishabh land..
Those extra runs shown on the big screen…reminded of that 80’s band Heaven 17..
Introspection…painkiller injection.. such dedication…still didn’t stifle for a wee while..
The all thriller no filler..out of kilter…no filter.. skill and will
Of our..once in a generation..Rishabh rifle sensation…
So contagious…. so tenacious… so outrageous.. so audacious…so courageous..
It made no sense..was absurdly tense…but no pretence…in the otherworldly Panto - verse it was as always… resolutely .. absolutely immense..
.
....Edge
.Of the seat
A suspense
A Thriller:
A poem
.In 80 words
Engrossed girl
On a lone bench
In visuals Notice
.Aesthetics Mystery
.Text book or Poetry
.Would draw her;
.With words:
Here’s my attempt..Gosh !
My first thoughts ..
Is she on Insta or Tinder ?
Hereby taking poets liberty ….exploring her outlines
..of writing - visual poetry
...hem of her ....skirt drawn
.....can I do her..…legs now
.........I am keeping..count
..............as I ......…...write
...............................No. of…
...............................words
..........................…..also
.............................my pulse.
...........................Both……in race
.....................…..have
…………………….….…now
...................…....toed
……………………………….to eighty
I am the warm embrace that breaks the chill,
The steady anchor when the waters rise,
I am the quiet peace that cures your ill,
The golden truth beneath untroubled skies.
I hold your trembling hand against the storm,
I guide your tired steps into the light,
To keep your fragile, weary spirit warm,
And watch you safely through the darkest night.
I am your faithful shield, your closest friend,
The heart that beats in rhythm with your own,
I promise I will guard you to the end,
So you will never have to walk alone.
Step closer now, and let me lock the door—
I am the surgeon, and you are on the floor.
I was a young mother of three darling little girls in the 1980’s, but thanks to TV, and a new invention called a video recorder, these are things that stand out in my mind:
Thriller by Michael Jackson, especially the music video, as none of us had ever seen a music video yet. I do believe, this man was the first to think along this line.
Tina Turner turned out Private Dancer, and What’s Love Got To Do With It? And I readily got it.
Footloose released Dancing in the Streets, and we all sang it in the car, it reduced many a baby fit.
I had a red 1980’s Mustang with T-tops, so the rest of the world got to hear my babies singing it too.
No movies in the car, but we were on our way home to watch Pretty Pony, in blue.
Christmas was awful, as women and men were pushing, slapping, and stamping each other at the mall.
All fighting over which one would adopt the yarn-haired, plain, kind of ugly Cabbage Patch doll.
The saving grace was the movie “A Christmas Story” with the kid who looked silly as a big round rabbit.
Remember “You’ll shoot your eye out?” Watching that movie has become al Christmas habit.
Leg warmers came out in the spring, and a term we had never heard called workout clothes.
Exercise guru Jane Fonda’s videos were sold for millions, making Vietnam Veterans act out in droves.
Barbie was sporting the sluttiest length dresses, glitzy jewelry, and thigh-high leather boots.
Her hair was spiked into the biggest fattest curls ever combed out by a beautician in cahoots.
The men were wearing jewelry and sometimes an earring in one ear, even Ken had one.
The Ghost Busters, Jem, Transformers, Prince, and Michael Jackson’s Thriller made the 80’s rather fun!
Written 10-14-2018 Sponsor: Michelle Faulkner Contest: Remembering the 80’s
The Whole Truth & Nothing But the Truth
(If I Made a Movie)
It’s the movies that I love a lot,
and the truth is, if I had a shot
at making a movie,
it sure would be groovy
and have a magnificent plot!
Of trivial humor I’m wary.
Not a Curly, a Moe or a Larry
would be in my show,
and just so you know,
MY movie would be good and scary!
It wouldn’t be all blood and gore.
For me, real suspense is much more.
Cheap effects you’d not see,
and the genre would be
of psychological horror.
I don’t have all the details worked out,
but if homicide it were about,
no typical killer
would be in my thriller,
and he might even be a boy scout!
My movie would not have to be
about death necessarily.
Inner conflicts of the
main characters and a
big twist is what I’d guarantee!
Written for PD's Truth or Dare Contest
By Andrea Dietrich
(Good grief, I can't even find a category for this
poem, such as MOVIES. I wish Soup gave more choices!)
So where do we begin
The din of Indian chagrin
Subcontinent cardinal sin
Forgot how to play spin
Incontinent rot no Ashwin
Saffas got under their skin!
So no Mo Shami or Ishant Sharma
Double whammy now not so jammy
What about Obama calmer karma
Back from Kolpak leader of pack
Is it Heaven or E17 got a stack
Right armer & mockney charmer
Winning grinning skinning spinning attack
Slaying & flaying while playing Simon Says
Avenge those tears from 10 years ago..revenge
Wicket farmer yep cheers Essex’s Mr Harmer
Remember Temba inspired fired the ember
First place won the race for the WTC mace
Dream team scheme everyone a member
And even without their gilded pace ace
No KG Rabada in the Saffa Jaffa Gaffer speed larder
Need 2 metre maneater Marco like Rafa to try harder
Latest greatest tyro narco pyro in the stellar fella Armada
Sneaky hoarder Marco Polo or cheeky marauder Hans Solo
Tip top tourer run scorer tall all thriller no filler..Torquemada
Raw pure southpaw land of the other hand flotilla of Jansen
Saffa’s new slick quick pillar..serial killer like Charles Manson
Let’s end where we did begin..Indian cupboard is rather bare
One savvy Ravi left.. bereft one pace pair with flair through the air
No Ashwin through thick & thin.. slipped on banana skin of spin
Another bish bash bosh whitewash after that Kiwi yippee nirvana
Can still hear the din within of that chagrin at the mandarins sins
Ire..greats retire entire empire on funeral pyre fire - Sinara it's Manana!
Theatre
Something happens I can't explain
It feels enclosed quite like a train
Within its wall you are truly set free
To be yourself or who you want to be It's like, let's pretend, or dressing up
Childlike feelings, they fill your cup
Escaping, distracting the daily grind
You can leave your worries all behind
Rehearsing, sets and stage lights
The anticipation of opening nights
A team feeling for those not so sporty
Rare chance for adults to act naughty
A sense of purpose shared with all
Commitment, a time to stand up tall
Drama, thriller, it is always a farce
Mischief and tears, acting an ****
If you act with respect to all around
A home from home is easily found
In our theatres, dreams come true
This beautiful place is open to you.
“You saw them two sticks of that chicks’ and you know when you saw them you would easily be teased until on your knees, bereaved and pleased just by one simple hint of a squeeze breezing by the easily greasy feasibly weave that would succeed the mead that would come from honey by the bunny that would breed the pleading steed doing the deed that would not only completely beat the heat but accomplish the feat leaving the steep cleat carousing creeps to seek a new discreet meet up to wreak their teal dealing tear drop one stop hop hillbilly thrills of the buzz kills that go to stop the lot of pill popping pushers of the lush gush ers who stutter when one blunder makes a whole sunder of plunder wonder scum but humble for some done shunned gunning under-run mung crumb grumblers who then became grateful because the fate of the hate breaking masturbating mating rituals became habitually cyclically mystical in the fulfilling pill-killer of a psycho thriller!!!!!!!!!!!!!