Long Trio Poems
Long Trio Poems. Below are the most popular long Trio by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trio poems by poem length and keyword.
~ It's a 'Gimmerick,' i.e., 'Limerick-Style' ~
Three suspects on the train
A nanny, a granny, and 'the butler'
The nanny's too young
The granny's too old
Someone whispered the name of 'the butler'
A trio of suspicious characters on the bus
A burglar, a gurgler, and 'the butler'
The burglar's too quiet
The gurgler's a riot
Someone whispered the name of 'the butler'
A triumvirate of VIP's on the plane
A President, a Prime Minister, and The Pope
The President's too cautious
The Prime Minister's nauseous
The Pope whispered the name of 'the butler'
The train and the bus pulled into the station
The plane landed nearby, a short ambulation
President's limo whisked him away
Prime Minister sneaked on the subway
The Pope? DOA, poor chap ~ Self-strangulation
under the crescent moon
in Halloween’s meager madness
a newly-put-together mummy
is closing the canopic jars
exiting her Egyptian crypt
to the horror of the unsuspecting
which means the entire town of Des Moines
A crack of thunder lights up the sky
a child’s scream is heard from the east
the ancient Egyptian mummy adjusts her organs
then turns to the night sky to see a flash of lightning
two witches riding toward Omaha are approaching
they whisk over her head, leaving her back bandages up
she is wondering now what strange night this might be
Halloween is not a celebratory day in ancient Egypt
A howling werewolf gives the night ambiance a jolt
The mummy stops dead, no pun intended
there are lit jack-o-lanterns at her feet
She is startled by them, they must mean something
a trio of scarecrows nod in the wind as she makes her way
toward town, wondering what strange magic this must be.
A mummy resurrected after four thousand years
Can you imagine?
Peppie was feeling cool
Watching the sky blue
Realizing he was on top
Above good ole rival Klopp
When Chelsea arrived
To the beehive
With intention
For a conversation about the detention
That should be mentioned
Getting attention
In the Daily Mail
Telling the story how Chelsea was nailed
“Our new fourth member
Pulled something this first weekend in December
Put a whammy
Using the Western Hammy
Trapping me in third
Finding out nothing is insured,”
Laughing Peppie continued enjoying feeding on the honey
Thinking what happened ‘was ever so funny’
“You wore yellow
A Mellow
Merchandising seller,”
Peppie replied
Knowing Chelsea tried
“Well, you were in white
For your bee buzzing fight
That was a bore and never tight!”
In another place
Klopp was building his case
Returning from battle
Protecting his cattle
Wolves on the attack
Working like a pack
Nil Nil to the end
Following a goal scripted by an athletic pen
Klopp was able to defend
Success!!
In the test
Not feeling alone
Having a civil tone
Approaching the two
Noting no one wearing blue
Pondering something was starting to brew
“First and third
Haven’t you heard,”
Peppie spoke the word
“I did some checking
No longer first instead second”
Klopp said
Impersonating a bridesmaid wanting to wed
But due to debt
Had to wear red
Chelsea gave a look
Like after reading a good chapter in a book
“You are lucky to be in front of me
You should be in spot number three,”
She did shrug
Still needing a hug
“About this West Ham
Who created the one-point jam?”
They all started to wonder
About the lunchtime blunder
“Are these Hammers for real?
Or just Londoners asking deal or no deal?”
As the trio checked their list twice
Being border protective and nice
“Should we let them in?
To our elite circle of win?”
Chelsea started the rebuttal
Noting they had this entertaining bubble
Creating trouble
On the table
Winding around the English Premiere fable
Where only one takes it all
Declaring the champion playing futbol
*
*
*
It is Christmas dear, so wipe away your tears,
we are looking down at your Christmas tree;
the ornaments and lights bring us happy cheers,
but, straighten that pretty angel topper please.
*
*
Dear, we will celebrate our Christmas with joy,
with God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit trio;
with happiness celebrating the birth of that sweet boy,
oh, wish you could hear the angel trumpets blow.
*
*
Oh, beloved family I imagine your Christmas pine,
is the snow falling on Heaven's golden homes;
I see your blinking lights as stars that shine,
is that God's home with the lovely domes.
*
*
My friends have come and Silent Night we sing,
I pray our words drift up to Heaven today;
with peace, I thank you all for everything,
I promise that at Christmas I will always be gay.
*
*
______________________
December 19, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/Christmas In Heaven
Copyright Protected, ID 12-1509-925-19
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Christmas in Heaven
sponsor, BJ Legros, Judged 12/30/2022,
First Place
Submitted to the Standard contest, Your Favourite
Rhyming Poem from the second half of 2022
sponsor, Julia Ward, Judged 02/01/2023
Ma’Am with the prettiest roses, I do not usually say anything but I must.
Your unique up-do is delightful, but it looks ready to bite you or bust.
There is a trio of foxes living it up in your beautiful gorgeous red hair.
One licks his lips as he overlooks you with a carnivore's loving stare.
I know we have not been properly introduced in any kind of way.
I have to tell you my anxious curiosity and concern is all over me today.
There is an army of brown recluse spiders climbing up your sturdy back.
Will it be a squeamish battle or a complete animalistic gory attack?
Pardon me, Ma’am. These foxes look like they see right through me.
I am trying to be helpful because I see furry things rather clearly.
You might be in danger, a victim waiting to be hurt or blatantly done in.
Is that a wood tick I see climbing up your neck, heading to your chin?
A blue jay is on your shoulder. He has a beautifully shaped beak.
I know this sounds insane, but there are some answers you must seek.
Why are all of these animals hidden in our essence. What do you say?
Ma'am, if I am bothering you, I will quietly be on my merry way.
Words fail
Meaning blurry;
Nothing rhymes
~~~~~~~~~
Upstairs apartment
Renovation works;
Pneumatic floor blast
~~~~~~~~~
Idle talk punctuates
Not much meaning;
Bizarre thoughts
~~~~~~~~~
Sonic headache
Disturbing pounding;
Head time-bomb ticking
~~~~~~~~~
Constipated movie
Suspicious assumptions;
Character flaws
~~~~~~~~~
Dragonfly pond
Lotus flowers bloom;
Mud bed ascend
~~~~~~~~~
Brief excursion
Exploration;
Abrupt exfoliation
~~~~~~~~~
Beauty delights
Ample assets;
Tipsy tryst
~~~~~~~~~
Orange butterflies
Dazzling flights;
Breezy patterns
~~~~~~~~~
Wavy handwriting
Cursive scripts swirl;
Verse outburst
~~~~~~~~~
Sleepy somnolence
Mid afternoon fare;
Lazy disposition
~~~~~~~~~
Word tiles
Pattern styles;
Thought textures
~~~~~~~~~
Black bird trio
Choral message;
Lightning crackle
~~~~~~~~~
Sound tact
Sure act;
Solid fact
~~~~~~~~~
Busy bee
Blooming finds;
Flower power
~~~~~~~~~
Day ascends
Midday sun strokes;
Positive feedback
~~~~~~~~~
Monday stirrings
Weekday routines call;
Noisy hurrying
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
15 June 2015
Singapore
III.
It was near midnight when they came again,
four warriors armed all with flaming brands,
Myron bolted up from a fitful sleep,
and poured out bullets as the horses ran.
He managed to shoot one off of his horse,
but the trio screamed and charged in once more,
Harold said”They’re fools to keep charging in!”
But Myron though hard, and wasn’t so sure.
He called for all to cease firing
and listened close as if searching for proof,
then he heard soft thumps coming from above,
one of them had gotten up on the roof!
The charging men had been a distraction,
and Myron grabbed the shot-gun in a hurry,
fearing that they would set the roof aflame,
he opened fire with a hot fury.
A hole was blasted where he shot the brave,
the dead man rolled off and struck hard on the ground,
the charging warriors roared in anger,
so Harold shot another one of them down.
The survivors fled back towards their camp,
but no withdrawal did the Sioux men beat,
instead they took turns sniping at their foes,
to deny Myron and his family sleep.
Come Morning Myron looked out and saw perched high
sixteen warriors atop their steads,
with lances and rifles and tomahawks
preparing for the morning’s bloody deeds.
But what chilled Myron’s soul more than anything
was the small tree trunk that two riders held
by the branches, to batter down the door,
and visit upon them a living hell.
The others let loose a barrage of shots,
to try and suppress Myron waiting within,
he fired endlessly took down two more,
then leapt back as the riders bore down on him.
The battering tree smashed right through the door,
a slew of war-cries went up, loud and piercing
the shot-gun blasted, two more warriors fell,
the noise left all their heads and ears ringing.
Harold went down from a shot to the chest,
the doorway was a commotions of words,
but standing there clutching his aching head
was the muscled form of Diving Bird.
Myron leapt forwards and drew his pistol,
then jammed it straight into Diving Bird’s ear,
Roared,”If you value your War-chief’s life,
you will all stop, and ride straight out of here!”
The Indians outside froze when they saw them,
none understood the words that he did say
except for an old man, missing an eye,
who spurred forwards to attempt a parlay...
CONCLUDES IN PART IV.
Proms linger in promised rings.
I gave you love in a band and
On your hand my love sings.On
Forever a song in my heart for you.
In a dress to the floor, red ribbons too.
I remember you.....
I remember you too.....
Walking through the door I saw.
Handsome in your pants and a bow tied two
little knots in your chest just under the vest
ribbon of rose buds nestled in trio.
Is this real?
I remember the car it was black,
driving fast destination on track,
shattered window after we got back.
Time worP pulling fast at my eyes,
Black JackET I can still see you cry.ing
Promise made at the prime of our lives.
Given faith to the day you're my wife.
Waiting here I have been for my life.Time.
Writing square with my pen for your ear,
Circles into bubbles so you hear, how I care.
My Love singing in the air. Everywhere.
I'm Write Here~
~True~
~I Am To Hear~
~Love.Is.You~
PeAce.
tri·o (tr)
n. pl. tri·os
1. Music
a. A composition for three voices or three instruments.
b. A group of three singers or three instrumentalists.
c. The middle, contrasting section of a minuet, scherzo, march, or various other forms.
2. A group of three.
Wiki
Noun 1. deuce-acedeuce-ace - the cardinal number that is the sum of one and one and one
tercet, ternary, ternion, terzetto, three, threesome, trey, triad, trine, trinity, trio,
triplet, 3, III, leash, troika, tierce
digit, figure - one of the elements that collectively form a system of numeration; "0 and
1 are digits"
http://www.thefreedictionary.com/trinity
n. pl. trin·i·ties
1. A group consisting of three closely related members. Also called triunity.
2. Trinity Theology In most Christian faiths, the union of three divine persons, the
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, in one God. Also called Trine.
3. Trinity Trinity Sunday.
Honesty presides in these fresh sonnets
Where breathing seeks to set example
For future generations on thresholds
Of honest wit staying apt and ample
Poets questioning meaning in long life
While judging and evoking honesty
They hold themselves above impending strife
And espouse flamboyant ideas-majesty
Honesty leads the art of poetry
For a poem swallows up the reader
Engulfing him with central bardolatry
Wise words breathe an eternal breeder
If poets just stopped phony contrasting
Perhaps poems would thrive everlasting
How does a new poem live forever?
Let me count the ways poems purify
Through female free-form and virile villanelle
If only they knew to demystify
Poetry that writes to catch attention
He did not get from his early childhood
A quiet child worthy of mention
Whose poems represented brotherhood
Reactions of interconnectedness reign
Sultry sounds stream to entice sentiments
A hope that senses will linger the same
That baby poems do dance like Bacchants
That the earth-bard could only smash thoughts, too,
So his poem would dance dreamily inside you
From the heart blooms colorful rose bouquets
Surrounded, a sweet seizure flutters upright
In gushing, garrulous melodic phrase
Made to fit undying spiritual rite
Hearts merge and hands do as faint souls entreat
Fragments of glass in the chapel's skylight
Form and message merge on rustic countryseats
Bucolic grazing land's tearful twilight
Poetry overwhelms overt outcasts
On journeys into the poet's caves
A mysterious abyss of absinthe
Pathways crossing upward to vivid waves
Where, at last, souls meet to exchange nepenthe
That simply symbolizes completeness
In every illustrious, starry sweetness
Poetry is breath
To us bequeath!
Written: April 1st For Legend Silent One contest
Rumi Quote: Don't be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Legend whispers airily, of a time gone by,
When overwhelming zest, is heavy to deny.
Gathered and swirled—an area's embrace,
Until that ratling place, met its final trace.
Living things, how depressing and bleak.
In shadows they dwell, their spirits weak.
Existence casts a shadow of fear and strife.
Melting light onto the tapestry of life.
Legends tell a narrative of mystery and grace.
Mysterious spots have secrets, across space.
A game played in shadows and light.
A lovely day-night waltz of illusory and might.
Oh, to become fulfilled,
A journey of the heart,
Where dreams and desires are distilled,
And life's purpose finds its start.
Unpredictable, the outcome lies,
A mystery hidden from our eyes.
In the realm of uncertainty, dwells,
As the hidden tale of destiny tells.
Legends never die, heroes are remembered,
In tales and songs, their spirits tempered.
Through time embrace, their stories thrive,
In hearts and minds, they forever strive.
Legends, eternal and inspired,
Never weary, never retired.
Legends, eternal and grand,
Never falter, never lose their stand.
When legends wither, dreams do fade,
No additional greatness in their shade.
In every crag and gnarled tree,
In every rootless valley, you foresee,
Legends, as Haggard, do exist, do overflow
Jones, Rumi, and Sinatra: names that dance upon glow
A trio of souls, each unique, In their artistry,
Rumi poetry may melt souls heartedly.
Through every obstacle that may arise,
You'll find the strength to reach the skies.
With courage and grace, be ready to leap,
Over the obstacles that in your path creep.
And I ponder what doth set apart,
The legends, from the artists of mere heart.
Success, oh success, It's all in how you manage, no less.
With grace and skill, you must possess.