Long Thwarting Poems

Long Thwarting Poems. Below are the most popular long Thwarting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thwarting poems by poem length and keyword.


Charge D Affaires Struck By Lightning Bolt

Charge d'affaires struck by lightning bolt

While high falutin dip low matt
flying his kite insurgents
planned coup d'etat
clear out of blue, a devilish
forked, jagged, knifed
dagger "O" type electric current licked

more'n the pants off harried envoy
clear rants heard
all the way to Timbuktu
damn donnybrook loosing mayhem
special averred ambassador
last best hope

thwarting total mortal Kombat
Zeus bribed - putin two and two...
together spelled collusion
arch enemies of democracy de facto
2020 election in cahoots,
whereby sore loser trumped,

activated thinly veiled plot
made good diabolical promise
demanding winning or else
"ye ain't seen nuttin"
imposing himself victor
nee, declaring tyrannical 

prince sup pulled "purple" reign,
despite just shy winning majority
crowed as "FAKE" optical illusion
claimed apparatchik infiltrated
voting booths rigged
machination stole courtesy

bounty on mutiny playbook page,
the average joe buyed
entire hook, sink, and liner
titanic ruse to unseat
all time self crowned best president,
apprentice skills garnered

thru "art of the deal,"
albeit machiavellian
who refused to admit defeat
usurped, proclaimed, kindled... diktat upon
those opposed driving fiat
vis a vis disallowing, discharging,

disenabling, disguising, distilling
carving up United States
in league courtesy
best buddies Kim Jong Un
populace will pay price
bear every burden

every hardship el don jon doth
punishingly mete out
recruiting military modern
death cab for cutie squads
dirty deeds done dirt cheap
personal vendetta and vengeance

as just desserts
succeeding presidential term
to abdicate pronto
lest civilization bombed
back into stone age
no matter enfranchisement
law within lady liberty land,

nonetheless he decreed
global hegemony forever
pressed hot button
omnipresent nightmare manifest destiny
global destruction unleashed
threatened to obliterate
every last trace of mankind!


Incomplete Metamorphosis To Manhood Phase 1

Once upon a time, this obstinate beastie boy
(i.e. yours truly, or none other than me)
fought tooth and nail,
(hence the reason I wear dentures)
against maturation, and sought
self starvation as modus operandi.

Adept at balking,
plus delaying, stunting and thwarting
transitioning toward adulthood
(mine spindle shank legs
to show and tell as proof positive),
yours truly fell short

(and stymied physical growth 
regarding lame rascal
with size nine little feet to boot)
never to attain requisite
emotional, financial,
and spiritual independence.

When mysterious processes
courtesy puberty foisted
one garden state variety
(think generic) *****sapiens
transformed puny young slip of a lad

into adolescent long haired
pencil necked geek,
the genetic blueprint
already sabotaged prospect
for musculoskeletal framework
to attain maximum potential.

As an extremely shy,
(nay socially withdrawn prepubescent person)
strong aversion awoke toward segueing
from docile average non prodigal son
into grownup with
attendant responsibilities thereof.

Fast forward decades later
namely July fourteenth two thousand twenty,
when self condemnation
laments forsaking positive growth processes
(ordinary run of the mill bodily changes)
indeed nsync with linkedin social development.

Premium Member I Love Kim and Kim Loves Me - In Trump's Own Words

I love Kim and Kim loves me
We’re as friendly as can be,
Were it not for this one thing
I’d endorse the kid as King.
But maturity eludes him
Hence our future’s looking grim.

He needs stop his clear obsession
Thwarting any credible progression,
Playing rocket man’s not smart,
While I’m busy doing my part.
I hope his folly’s just a phase of youth
Explaining actions so uncouth.

But if he simply doesn’t get it
Proving he’s just another misfit,
My full wrath will be unleashed
Then he’ll truly see the Beast
Rain and thunder on his head
And not of water but of lead.

Time will tell but I’m still hopeful
That his end will not be doleful,
After all I want that prize
Mr. Noble in full size.
I’ll wipe Obama’s smirk right off,
Rubbing his face into my troth!

So come on Kim give it a go
For us both the world to show
That our friendship’s good and strong
And my instincts weren’t so wrong.
After all what fun’s a rocket
When it so damages your pocket.
Form: Rhyme

When the Going Gets Tough.....

Yes I've been through the mill
but stronger for it...happier too.
Though I forgave... but cant forget
I remember the lessons I learned so well.

Think of others before yourself.
Give to others from the little you have
 share a smile..wish others well
 extend love to everyone.

Pain and hardsip were my fare
for many a day ...many a year
but time... that  soothing balm
heals the heart...touches  the spirit with a gentle hand,
  while Angels  loving and kind 
strengthen us in difficult times.

The body may suffer..the heart tremble,
may be pierced by  thorns and thistle
which in the end ....burn and shrivel.
God sees ....He knows and 
walks beside us thwarting evil.
Do not worry..have no fear
He is always near.

He knows not time....but He's  in charge.
The tests he sends us.....
Make us stronger...and tougher
helps us view each day 
 from a new perspective.
Thank you Father,
I'll do whatever you say
and never .....never will I question Your  way.

Wems Henry Temmy Psalm 64


You're the expression boldly written on sky's face
Looking up as human, I keep wondering off trace 
In pleasurable amusement spreading my lips in awe 
Overwhelmed me, in wonder feels my admiration in aah
Tasking my curiosity to a heavy charge 
Upon what my options couldn't enlarge 

You smile, the sky surfaces dews 
The touch of which calm my boos 
And my worries notwithstanding diffuse 
Into the thin air to romance the freezed vapour
Eventually get my fears into hands of the raper 
And rewrite there sticking fulfilment on my paper 

You're the goings of heaven's brief motions 
The touches that cool the tough oceans 
To calm vibrating waves climbing the shore 
For lovers at beach to house lovely moments and adore
The atmosphere's silent treatment painting emotions 
Enjoying nature's compassionate care to the very core 

You smile, atmosphere enlivening cheers 
Into memory lane of the childhood years 
Training hearts' piously to be reborn 
Into a red-blue-white touchy light lawn 
Playing with dangers yet far away fears 
Till time trades tease to its fullest be done 

Happy lips are sealed not to spread
Cheers enveloped; all are ever duchy
Even when it fades, it lives deep in head
Growing up high above the sinking treat, touchy 
You smile, the atmosphere freestyles
I linger longer than expected in my style 

Spread out myself in Your smiles
Gather up myself in thwarting exiles 
Amass the nights to favour my mornings
Scatter the mornings to give peace unto my nights 
With or without regarding pleasure-giving warnings 
Ignite my lips with awesome delights
Form: Rhyme


Sagebrush Saga Weed One Day

Akin a tumbleweeds  
aimlessly blowing in the wind
umlaut punctuation 
courtesy of let herd Mother Nature 
nsync with markie mark, 

(or other faux nuke heads 
on silent auction 
ajudicating bidding chopping block) 
or getting sparred 
sum xtra mo' mints

before morphing into gamut 
tuff height (against opposing 
super cross currents) 
bow willing head over heals 

deftly thwarting encroaching 
enfilade enhancing 
invading army of deplorable 
dust devilish debris 
with full Stanley steamer ahead onslaught 

opposing approaching phalanx 
ta become a foo lush fighter
putting kibosh 
across the infinitely open 
and wide prairie land

(which wasteland fictitiously 
epitomized and described by T.S. Elliot
with absolute zero relevancy here)
a barren vista ravages 
metaphorical landscape 

of one measly mortal malcontent male
bumping and scraping 
along an accursed habiliment
just barely avoiding 
and dodging diabolical demons

mercilessly unrelentingly ready
to seduce this somewhat sanguine Simian
who finds himself amidst pitfalls
of a tortured and twisted existence

racked with up pinions 
(halving smartly put irons in the fire)
deployed incognito 
tub hest describe demonic dungeons
damp, dark, demented domains - 
a veritable no man's land

and one impossible to escape 
from no matter how fast I flee
from the fearful, fiercesome 
and phantasmagoric forms

figments of imagination 
yet real and tangible as bone and flesh
haunt sacred house of slumber 
and transmogrify me 
into a loathsome madman

ranting and raving senseless 
gibberish and gobbledygook 
yet perceived as metaphysical 
and philosophical
sane state farm mister soundcloud 
syllabification stutterer 

from one whoa man 
World Wide Web wayfarer 
(perchance yourself)
which virtual vagabond 
venerates vowels...

Premium Member Keeper of the Flame

I am called to be a true keeper of the flame,
Of love, the ever greatest teaching, with the aim;
Of entwining the humans and other beings,
With an unbreakable bond of compassion-strings...!

This, indeed, is like bringing the moon down, so hard,
In a world, by volcanoes of vengeance, ash-charred;
Wars and battles, as though essential gifts held high,
Peace and harmony before them, in meekness, sigh...!

In slaughter of beasts and birds the humans take pride,
Behind pretenses of worships their evils hide; 
Building forts and mansions fine forests they destroy,
Thwarting the rhythm of the cosmos, leap in joy...!

Mother earth, cracked by mundane evils, cries in pain,
Birds, beasts and marine creatures feel as though in chain;
Will the world, as made by God once, be seen again?
Will Adams and Eves, with pure probity, births gain?

I'm a prophet assigned with the mission divine, 
Of bonding the strayed wild branches one with the vine;
Till the earth and the heaven into love unite,
As a keeper of flame, I must bestow my mite...!



14 March 2022
Pick-A-Title, Vol 29 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Martha Graham, a Maverick

HANDMAIDEN OF MOON DANCING



fly me to stars in the thrill of one swan night
over a crescent arc to feel a flame of sighs,
teasing dreams so silent yet ever wild
and like a neon light, speak through your feet ,
your ribs twirling in drips of summer’s rage : throw
away the restraint  of confined  movements  
dictated by a body unmoved; of a flower 
keeping her flutters from crawling freely on grass

give me a sway through leaps unto ocean’s swell
without need for thought or reason, rather,
lift the flesh made from love or hate, to burst
with primitive heat; fingers  liquid in motion unbidden
by a sacred place that doesn’t exist on earth,  when
all  but the fragrance of a naked skin expresses
the very force that writhes in the faint of depth,
licking the cells inside out.. weightless, bold, soft

dance  the crazy dance with me just because
such passion needs to flow along rhythms
burning within… till a weave of spin breaks 
into  a trance blending a wanton glide with
pirouetting flights raw in some meadow  clearing,
pious pose under  the tangerine of touch…

handmaiden of moonlight dancing on flames
pluck those eyes ,rise above mortal remains.



©


*i tweaked this free verse with a sonnet’s volta 
in the last two lines (10 syl rhyme count instead
 of the usual 8 syl pattern)

----------

*Martha Graham is the pioneer of modern dance. As a ballet dancer 
and choreographer, she introduced inner movement emphasizing
emotion, spontaneity, and  an exploration of psycho-social themes
( feminism, political protest, and labor unrest)through free -flow
of innovative steps, thwarting cultural control over conventional, 
metered dance. Her last performance on-stage was in 1970,
at the age of 76; she was working on the choreography for the Olympics
when she died in 1991 at the age of 97. 

Graham was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1976
by President Gerald Ford and cited by Time Magazine as
"Dancer of the Century" in 1988, aside from her other accolades.

*Source: Wikipedia.com and www.voanews.com

*Please watch 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUoMc5Am_c0&feature=related



‘    ‘’’’’          ‘’’’

For Cyndi Mac Millan’s Maverick by nette onclaud

Roman a Clef Tragicomedy

Roman à clef tragicomedy...
overlaid with façade of fiction = Mein Kampf

No need for yours truly to dig deep,
(albeit bonafide figuratively)
by Dickens thru mine Uriah Heep,
a gnarled mass creep
ping, comprising, encompassing, glomming
abysmal existence strewn with hard times,

such that I wanna leap
out this metaphorical bleak house,
a black hole in the wall swallowing
i.e. disallowing any peep
ordinarily yawping, proliferating, flirting...
now fumfering lamely issued by keep
ping low profile super tramping cheap

trickster, our mutual
friend Matthew Scott Harris,
where lack of functioning heating unit
(think male organ if ye will)
upended, rendered, discombobulated...
scrappy body electric hominid
to experience quality sleep.

Principal reason I write
to balance and aright
unexpected largesse 
(thank you dad), where
eyes suddenly got bright
and bushy tail incessantly

wagged day and night,
a sensible palliative temporarily
eased penury plight,
which cash equivalent,
viz four Benjamins alleviated quite
helpful thwarting necessity to fight

off bill collectors brandishing
armstrong lance's compelling me
to summon black knight
in shining armor lodged within white
castle amidst prickly bishop
obviously one prone easily to excite

amusing little lord Fauntleroy
groomed as heir to throne,
enthusiasm since his birth did ignite
(Aesop pose) storybook life,
where fanciful elation did take flight
buzzfeeding, droning, feasting

on par with Mister
Bumble bee in flight
sweet nectar amidst lilies of the field
analogous to stripling Adam - fine lad
eve vent chilly seeking delight.

Ah to gather rose while ye may
tis futile wishful thinking, 
now at mine three
score orbitz round sun,
which libido far out at bay
prurient predilections once

spawn time wracked to lay
waste vestal virgin such as... Little Dorrit,
now... raging hormones stagnant clay
hardened, atrophied, eutrophied,
jackknifed limp bizkit
long bereft testy tickle 

yar seaman quizzical,
slack jawed, and sullen at
deserted abandoned cobwebbed quay
ignored do not enter, keep out,
private property signals desiccated,

no place for Peter to take holiday
barring ingress to ply skin flute
amidst hollerin hootenanny,
perhaps convincingly explaining
welcoming Voldemort without delay.

I Wish To Be

I wish to be the gentle breeze
Sweeping tearful eyes
Of the weary midday flower.
Or to be the horrid shadow
Casting fearful darkness
For a passer-by to rest.
A rippling river of white
I wish to be the one
Drenching thirst of arid earth.
Or to be a dancing wave
Of the mighty sea
Playing with a child.
A guild of fleeting clouds
Hiding splendid sun
For a homeless soul,
Or the canopy of green
Thwarting rain for a home,
I wish to be the one.
I wish to be a cresset
Guiding glimpse of hope
In the prosaic paths of pangs
Or to be a firefly
In the dim toilsome journey
Of a soul to his divine home.

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