Long Trickster Poems
Long Trickster Poems. Below are the most popular long Trickster by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trickster poems by poem length and keyword.
DOG CHASES TAIL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In circles goes the dog,
a furry whirlwind, tail a-wagging,
his nose to the ground, sniffing out the ghost of a bone
with no clue as to where he left it.
Ahh, the circle grows, and me thinks he’s quite mad!
Truth be told, that bone is a relic,
a trophy of nothing, a piece of yesterday's joy,
devoid of any savory delight;
yet, he’s bewitched
by the lure of that which once he had.
The quest persists, but time, the trickster,
plays its multifarious games.
Memory grows faint, but
the haze of longing remains
lost in the labyrinth of time.
Distractions dart by—a squirrel, a leaf,
But wait—what’s this? A flash of color
bounces by and the spell is broken,
the quest for the bone forgotten,
distraction wagging his tail.
And so he circles, a furry Sisyphus,
chasing phantoms in the grass,
he sniffs, snorts, and spins—
a canine circus act.
Vigilance is the price of freedom
Seen, are the caskets home comings
We don’t want any more forever wars
It’s always been the black gold, we fight for
Illegal catastrophic war, worth billions
Our dad’s fought fascists, with their lives they paid,
offerings of service to the millions
A system we can trust is all we want,
this tactical gambit smoldering, far from it
Even as the heartless with their hatred,
face to face, they try tirelessly to provoke us,
yet with grace, we stand tall with heads held high
They are the a g g r e s s o r s
with a need in their bitter-battered hearts,
where their pain inside resides
For them it’s too late, it's too late!
For them change will never come
And although they are enabled,
by the few, the mean-spirited labeled,
it’s how they shall remain
And we protest peacefully regardless
Their youthful ones are young not wordless,
their great-grand-and-dads fought against
what these cruel men now represent…
The man who sold the world,
The King of clowns absurd
A trickster trumpets his hellish horn
A thorn subsides aside in world’s forlorn
Nationwide, in the thousands,’
from up north, down south, east and west
Los Angeles, we all know it best!
New York City, Boston,
all the way to Mar-A-Largo!
We come from everywhere,
and to all beats and tempos
our soulful hearts filled, when we go,
All generations generate sounds of protest
most festive, with signs of sorrow and spoken words
Shout-outs mellifluous,
in harmony we sing-along
Voices alike, we’re birds of a feather,
and we beat our drums together
And how kind of them to show,
to say how out-of-touch is The Prez
Bruce, Billy Porter, Jane and
J o a n B a e z
Against his mad minded, agenda
we’ll find a way,
This new world order
out the window and to the border
A culture war, windstorm
Colors combined—humans sway
catching the wave,
in the center of it all
I m m i g r a n t s,
we came out for them,
and their children, and for ourselves
We carry the American flag,
others carry flags of their motherlands,
A reminder of where we come from
We want to take it back,
it’s ours and not for ruthless racists
Vigilance is the price of freedom,
and courage is infectious
NO KINGS DAY 3rd Protest
3/28/26
The transiting sun shines deceptively,
spreads spectrum in the chameleon sky,
the masked faces of ingenious craft,
walk you enticed on blind garden path.
In the dense night of broken dreams,
you don’t hear their footfall of silence.
Their sneaky eyes probe to consume,
as masks dissolve in depth of darkness.
In the desolate domain of feral fright,
under the ebony sky on murky ground,
the creatures of the night prowl around,
stalking the haunted who can’t hide.
The nightriders slither from wilderness,
unmasked, they morph into demons.
Unsuspecting predators on the hunt,
as sinister sly animals of evil they lurk.
With arcane acumen of trickster devils,
as sordid silhouettes of menace they crawl
stealthily into the quintessence of your life,
suck the seraphic ambrosia of your soul.
__________________
June 10, 2022
Contest : Creatures Of The Night
Sponsored by : Julia Ward
loki:
For nine nights only your own will had bound you
to the World ´s Tree, you treacherous God,
while I wore a chain that I chose not, forever:
With cruel fetter my freedom you took!"
Odin:
"Too cunning and unpredictable you were, too wild to roam free:
Greater your strength and hunger in magick and in power
Then even my own, Tyrs and Heimdalls combined,
greedier than ravens, you sought ever more;
that's why we tied you,torso, legs and arms
In your own sons entrails for blood runs thicker than water."
loki:
"Was in nine realms no room for a trickster lord
Was there no realm that you could offer, i who existed even before you?
Of choice you bereft me to change my ways.
My trust you betrayed - Tyr and Odin Wotan most of all,
For you swore by your blood to protect and care for me when no other wouldst
You who ´d fed me and cared like a father for me
The most cursed of primordials i was.
"All of you lost your honor that day;
stronger was I, but still you tricked me:
Cunning magic you cowards employed--
Tyr you let pay for the promise you broke.
"Eternity ´s enmity is what I owe you.
Raving my greed now, grown with the years:
Not quite enough are the nine worlds to feed me,
to slake my hunger for revenge they´ll hardly suffice."
The nine worlds the aesir and vanir cherish shall fall to end my enmity
Odin:
"I stand against you to strike you back,
though well I know what wyrd is mine:
That I will fall with all my Einherjar,
whose lives I ´ve taken, that life might survive.
"With bitter sacrifice bought I the wisdom
for many a day this doom to delay;
hope I have kindled, none kept for myself:
Two mortals survive in the wood of the Tree.
Eve’s serpent is no competitor for Dotwin.
Dotwin betrays your trust faster than she can learn your hair color.
A trickster, she glories in people’s misery.
“Oh, sorry,” she says. “I did not know that was a secret.”
Spreading bad news faster than the Internet,
She sneaks around at work, listening to private conversations
That are now never private. Making up part of the story
is also part of Dotwin’s exclusive charm.
All conversations cease when she enters the lunchroom.
Not noticing, she proceeds to readily fill the gap with self promotion.
She has been trying to find a new job for six months now,
Unfortunately, her reputation has preceded her.
We may be stuck with the only teacher who has ever
Smashed a brand new computer to prove to the computer techs
That it can be smashed, during the introduction seminar
Where one announced it was a resilient child-proof computer.
Child-proof, certainly.
Dotwin-proof? Not so much.
My cousin Aliyah announced she is a pet walker to the cousins.
Why would she say that? She walks dogs by the dozens.
My friends have other pets, most of them one-of-a-kind.
My mother kept saying “Aliyah can do it. She will not mind.”
So now I am walking a horse, parrot, lizard, gecko, and snake.
Wearing on my back a fishbowl with a goldfish named Drake.
The pig barely catches up, and the raccoon is a trickster.
The alligator holds us back; he is named King McLickster.
Do not forget Mr. Tibbles, Aliyah’s mom said with glee.
He is a foul-talking parrot who has a big crush on me!
And what about the turtle? Her dad said. He is so slow.
Yes, he holds us back Aliyah admits, wherever we go.
Why can’t you say no? I asked my cousin, concerned for her.
I started saying yes, and I could not stop, she said with a murmur.
She has a weasel too, he is sneaky as he can be said her brother.
I have a lead on a bat, said her helpful pushy old mother.
In my twilight meadow you walk alone,
under my spectral ardent sky coloring you.
At its fringe I wait for you to come to me,
your luring way you’ll find to my heart.
But dislodged hope hurts my psyche,
unkept promises stifle my broken heart,
unkind words tear the lattice of my mind.
My life is an urn filled with your denial.
Your sensual aversion spreads as wild fire,
boils the blood of your intrinsic pride.
Its flare burns my tender demeanor,
its rage blazes our bonding bonhomie.
Your acrimony billows as thick smoke,
smothering your conscience losing sanity.
Vile breath is charged with spiteful ashes,
you deface the composed facade of control.
With the arcane acumen of a trickster
you crawl as a sordid silhouette of menace,
suck the ambrosia of my succumbed soul,
the casualty of your obsessed malice.
The split level blinks
at Chestnut End under
twilight's tremble, ripping me,
the oily menhaden bait,
from the under boot
The Chestnut dwellers bold
interrogative flushes him down
then plunges-up the flotsam
village scrawler
the way you talk
to a blooming night blooming
to a blow-fish blown unsuspecting
of the scuttle, skating the wake away
The insomniacs billow from
their raged ranches, wisely,
and after supper, tumbling
the trickster tumbledowning
the scrawler, the baitster
dip-fished in his own inkwell.
Ripped and chipped
in my underbrush
I hunker down loading
the mossy mossbunkers
inside my spitball.
Kicking, winding up
tumbling down madly aiming
for the ramshackle fence,
escaping once again
in my handsome
lederhosen.
I had just woken up feeling great
like I barely had gained any weight.
But not so says my scale!!
The despair I can't quell.
So I go pile more food on a plate.
Next, the car on a side street I spy
pulls out quickly in front of me. Why?
I'd been going 60.
But now I'm at 50.
Why can't slowpokes let fast folks pass by?
Then the store checkout line is not fast.
So I change to line two. I'm aghast.
The first just got quicker
Line two was a trickster.
Yes, the last shall be first; the first, last.
I race home because there is something
I've recorded. For me, that 's a big thing.
But I mope and I pout
The power had gone out.
While away from my home, I taped nothing.
And so I've proceeded to bake
A costly and chocolate-filled cake.
A most horrible taste!
Salt for sugar I'd placed,
and I've got no more flour for a remake.
I'm in bed. There's this really good show.
But my eyes won't stay open. Oh, no!
In the a.m. it's one.
I awake. My show's done.
Like in life, the end I can't know!
Written: January 24, 2025 For contest Sponsored by: Brian Strand
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the galumph of morning breath
a chandelier of dew,
Barely inching through the cobwebs
dreams hammock in gleaming light
A jaded heart finds solace
in this tangled respite,
Lummox magpies whisper tales
crisp with truth renewed.
Magic twilight dolphins
swim through esoteric skies,
Flummoxed by the palette hues
purple crocus and yellow celandine,
Surly winds sweep through vastness
where shadows intertwine
Trapped beneath a cloak of darkness
spying on sighs.
Brambled paths lead to riddles
a sharp needle piercing skin,
Bleak wilderness unfolds its wings
reckless thoughts bear flight,
In abyssal thrall to katabatic winds
that howl at night,
Fodder for desolation grip
where slithy worms start.
A reckoning draft reasons
in cosmic dust and glowing flame,
Juggling shadows and whispers
with each breath eternity bestows,
Bright brambling duets waltzing
where sapphire waters flow,
Obsession's echoes in an alder
tarn untamed by shame.
Straddling the edge precariously
puckered lips exhale pure art,
the trickster stalks among obsidian trees
weaving lucid dreams unraveled tight;
a goldfinch’s trill alchemizes
into hope’s flickering candlelight -
each note dissolving petulance
from placid hearts
in these moments as I wander through
the glistening morning hue
surmounting plummet throes
where orchids boost
raw life on a hopeless slope.