Long Trounce Poems
Long Trounce Poems. Below are the most popular long Trounce by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trounce poems by poem length and keyword.
an angry
alliterated agony
ferociously flowing
the treacherous
tenacious trumping tactics,
tell truth tales,
of our outrageous
pompous, pontificating potus,
holding hungry hostages,
hanging hopelessly helpless;
weary worn warriors, walled
by bigotry’s belittling:
pitiful poor panicking people,
lingering like lynched lackeys;
veiled villainous vampire
dictator, dooms
democracy, demanding
america accepts asinine,
audacious aristocracy;
when will we wake
and audaciously approach
regaining revoked rights;
evil envy, eventually eviscerated?
infectious ingrained idiocy,
can’t continuously control
conscious citizens,
purposely propelling
people power,
to triumphantly
trounce this
tainted tyranny:
pretty please,
look…listen…learn…
legal legislation!
A sit before a screen or page and muse most momentarily
it seldom takes a minute more for it seems I’m always stewing
amazed at this, afraid of that, annoyed beyond endurance
with pen in hand or keyboards click, I truss the image up.
I tie the brash in blades of grass, I soundly trounce the villain
I’m so much happier in my mind, writing’s so fulfillin’
It is not hard to find the place the person or the scheme
to rant about, to cajole, the world is truly full of such
a never ending cavalcade of colors and of earthly joys
all I need is time and space and on and on I can elucidate
though the value maybe little oh how I enjoy it.
Like procrastination, stagnation
and its constipated nature is like
a high hurdle before the finish line—
a pregnant thief waiting to trounce you.
Life’s like a race running through hell
and through its trials and tribulations,
we must keep running—for if we stop
we will surely burn in the fires of their hell.
With eyes on the prize, faith in God,
belief in self, keep running children;
otherwise, you’ll fail to make it through
the fires of hell being stoked around you.
As you live and strive to do so, be aware
of the trumped-up hell around you.
Look, listen, and know—but don’t you stop!
The fires of defeat are burning—don’t stop!
We learn to skip before we run,
We learn to crawl before we walk.
We often look before we leap
But rarely think before we talk.
Words are our friends and should be cherished as such,
But too many, it seems, don't seem to care very much.
I have pity on poor defenseless words
When we batter, and bludgeon,
And pummel, and trounce them,
And feel especially bad
When I abuse, or misuse,
Or misspell, or mispronounce them*.
*Author's note and disclaimer: Many of you, dear readers, are well aware that in certain of my pieces, I do these things with a certain degree of frequency, but when I do, I claim poetic license and/or plead the Ogden Nash Amendment, which is: My muse made me do it.
I scan the horizon as I trounce the arid desert.
Brill trees and a trickling burn shape my stream.
To me, it's as if I'm showing God's entail I querist.
As away as I am aware, it is a magnificent dream.
Perhaps, Lord, late openings are to be unlock.
As well, I will fulfill all your vows around time.
The clay under my feet is starting to awake.
It's all aside You that you've grown grass sublime.
As I stray calmly amid the skylights.
I'll induce firm my deft hand grips Yours tightly.
My faith in You is vital, and I wish to highlights.
And long for the holy avowal of Your majesty.
I owe You, God, your unfathomable grace.
Much obliged for plunging me in your rife.
I may never be skilled to repay Your fairness.
But I'll behold to You till the ending of my life.
As I range You, God, with love, you bestow.
It has given me loftier reliance and ability.
My solitude and aridity will soon vary low.
And the lands and people's illness severity.
I beg You, Heavenly God, to relieve the way.
To strengthen the modest jewels of my soul
Much obliged, Lord, for setting my break day.
A blighted block of my moral being goal.
1ST PLACE CONTEST WINNER
Written: April 24, 2022
Pick-A-Title, Vol 30 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
As death mimics love itself and clutch a throbbing heart,
kindling consolation to savor flight, farther and farther
beyond the inner yelps released as vibrating soar easily,
stimulating stress to execute its portion and naught idle,
merely trounce its climatic claim with an uttered gasp.
Exhale nor inhale as a soul embarks anew venture upon
a road that seems less traveled, albeit, a much-traveled
road, nonetheless, deliberating back to that grey hued
frame, thoroughly placed in peace, smiling at once was a
vestige of their former self as hands clasp naught wave.
The hours, the days, the years, all appear as if time itself
is naught placed on hold, but practically be nonexistent,
then again, seeing the circumstances unfold, obviously,
one will be able to grasp that there is no other direction
of a skyless opaque mist, except a harmonious presence.
As distinction advents and all be so unique and naught
strange, more and more a glide into the everlasting light
and that the glorious manifestation established hereon,
whereby, one came upon Steinbeck as he was sitting by
vines, beaming, as he was writing, The Grapes of Mirth.
Endure the travails of somber night
To emerge in bliss of golden sunrise,
Let the fleeting storm pass you by
To spot a rainbow on opaline skies.
Entrust your own founding thoughts
And form your informed paradigm,
Trade not for spurious vacant-prose
Your enriching voice versed in rhyme.
Appreciate your share of sunny days
But also, those of drenching rains,
For they are both eminently essential
To produce bountiful harvest of grains.
Upon falling from your ambitions
Endeavor to rise again and again,
Questing always to reach higher highs
Of worthy goals you wish to attain.
No one fighting on battlefield of life
Sans hurdles unfailingly succeeds,
Yet, success is the enriching feature
Of all endearing, purposeful deeds.
Dwell not in the world of transience
When your aspirations quest forever,
Trounce firmly every sigh of failure
From pursuit of a gratifying endeavor.
Follow the fire in halo of your soul
And rise boldly to tether your claim,
Then look up to arc of life’s horizon,
Watch your fate emboss your name.
December 17, 2022
Placed 2nd: Follow the Fire Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Try as I may
I'm swatting at shadows dancing on quicksand,
To my utter dismay
Nothing I do works as planned.
My good friend Bibi
Promised we'd trounce them in days,
We were counting off nightly
Itching to exit this devilish maze.
Who would have thought
This bunch of hardliners would fight,
When history taught
We'd neutralize all at the very first sight.
Yet here we now are
Squeezing that sand through our hands,
Agreement still far
Seriously thwarting my carefully laid plans.
I've a November election to win,
Freeing Cuba on temporary hold,
The future looks suddenly grim
If I don't get the Mullahs to fold.
But hope's in the air
We'll just squeeze them more,
Throw in a prayer
For divine intervention to even the score.
I can't do this too fast
Muddle a vague resolution,
If a peace is to last
We need to incite a real revolution.
Despite all this grief
I hadn't a choice,
My aim make this brief
Give Iranians a voice.
Stop the bad guys
Deny them the bomb,
Freedom the prize
A win with aplomb.
Yet the fake Media complains
While Democrats snipe,
Neither have rational brains
They're all hubris and hype.
Thank you for your attention to this matter - DJT
We are often sold it is cricket’s true home
The gold tapestry we toast hallowed tome
Legends ghost last post told free to roam
Groundsmen boast on outfield wield a comb
Host should do a search on Google chrome
Would yield the strip is most about the loam
Frippery and filigree are so suitably kitsch
Coiffured rest of ground then got a stitch?
Eating kedgeree no pedigree critics snitch
Pundits pounce the bounce does bewitch
Batters flounce in tatters is a serious hitch
Not a titch moves alot watch them twitch
Trounce the culprits it is time for a switch
Not in pulpits being a bit*h MCC’s so rich
Scratch fans itch give us a Test match pitch
The power we now witness is only the start
An angry earth she is, her tectonic plates in depart
Seconds later they again meet with abrasive force
The reaction to the action is just a matter of course
Crustal deformation from the abyss of her deep
For she'll care not for, the thousands who will weep
Translucent displacement in furious rise
The energies are now released that will swamp victims cries
Substantial volumes gather at a tremendous rate
No care for our future or the disaster it will create
Whilst out at sea we can can't determine the size
For we will feel the anger as she forcefully applies
Sirens now sounded, on the horizon it's been sighted
Evacuation to the listening, the unheard will be blighted
As it now approaches the shore, wave shoaling compresses the wave
It's speed now slowed down, we now await what it craves
Like a silent assassin it's now ready to pounce
No prisoners it will take as it lands in thunderous trounce
Smashing and crashing as it collects in it's wake
No care for the living or it's material take
The gathering of debris amidst gas mains that erupt
Power lines and buildings feel her anger so abrupt
Losses of many are now caught up in this sadness
From she angry earth, or has she entered madness
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