Long Tween Poems

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


Premium Member Predator Or Victim

Among our animals on earth
the search for food consumes each day.

I ask God why he made two counter groups;
carnivore and herbivore-
the two so far apart.

To eat, be eaten- nature's programmed goal
'tween carnivores and herbivores it seems.
While some cause bleeding tears and victim's screams;
with others, trees and grasslands take their toll.

Both plans- far apart:
one brings loss of life and pain;
one consumes earth's greens.
How does God choose which will be
predator or victim bound?


August 31, 2016

~3rd Place~
Contest: Challenge - Write One - Theme: Dark Nature
Sponsor: Broken Wings - 
Judged: 09/08/2016

Rules:
1. Epigram, a single thought on two lines- unrhymed -
    introducing the theme of your poem 
2. Kimo, 3 lines, 10/7/6 syllables
3. Enclosed Rhyme, 4 lines, a/b/b/a
4. Tanka, 5 lines, 5/7/5/7/7
5. Title - 3 words from the last line in Tanka
6. Words 'bleeding tears' must be used
7. Should be present tense
Form: Verse


The Poet Knight

... The pen is mightier than the sword ...


The poet knight went off to war
To prove his valor true.
Sir Arthur Berk, the troubadour,
Knew he had much to do

For he had found a greater sword
To strike his foes down dead.
He swore to fight invading horde
And make their ink spill red.

Each lord, farm hand and tavern maid,
Had often heard him tell
The fierceness of his secret blade
And all the foes it fell.

Of dragons and of armies past
He'd read this weapon killed.
The legend of his sword was vast;
The ink would soon be spilled.

Soon rival horde had come again
All took up sword and shield.
The armies prepped for battle then
Were met upon the field.

They yelled and brandished spear and dirk
But soon were silent when
All held their breath to watch Sir Berk
As he unsheathed his ... pen?

He rushed in sure and unconcerned 
But fell at the first blow,
And what new truth he might have learned
I guess we'll never know.

But if, perhaps, he'd been more keen
Sir Berk might still yet live;
Too late he learned the difference 'tween
Literal and Figurative.

9.13.18
Contest: Unsheathe Your Sword
© Jesse Rowe  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Narrative

The Grinch of Halloween

Descending October days buzzed on caffeine
My house transforms into a living scene
Walking past you’ll see it’s quite obscene
Ghostly silhouettes dance beside the evergreen
From the roof swings a broken doll figurine
A creepy lonesome head lay just below a guillotine
Zombie moans, hanging guts and sagging spleen
From the darkness jump out ghouls unforeseen
Bloody vampire waiting for his next cuisine
A familiar cannibal has an appetizer of fava bean
Of gloom and doom I’m the local fright queen
Full of fervour and dread the kids will convene
Dressed as batman and squid game and wolverine
Ever keen for a scare, from tot to tween
Eyes a-twinkle in a trick or treat rush of dopamine
A haunted “Open soon” sign flashes citrine
But the treat of this trick, it is a smoke screen
Is wickedness a hereditary gene?
My heart did not shrink or grow, nor am I green
Yet I remain all hallows Grinch, the meanest of mean
Because the best part of this festive routine
Is I take it all down, the day before Halloween

MWA HA HA HA HA HA HA !!!!

October 25, 2022
Halloween Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
Form: Monorhyme

Premium Member Wounded Sigh

A crumbling cabin, a jungle deep,
An old soldier trudging by,
Imagining he heard, in the breeze,
A ghostly, wounded sigh.

This elder sat 'neath a mangrove
To ease his creaking bones, 
His uneasy mind accompanied   
By the wind's eerie moans.

The groans metamorphosed to words,
As mournfully they spoke
About an injury so grave,
And a heart and soul, which broke.

"A strong youth, fastest in my school,  
Brimming with hope and fun,
I couldn't outrun a speeding bullet,
Blasted from a cruel gun.

Stripped of hope, left a broken cripple, 
Of no use to anyone,
I couldn't envision a future -
A day past twenty-one. 

It wasn't just a body blow,
But one to my emotions,
As a gap 'tween me and my mates
Grew as vast as oceans.

All the love I had to offer,
Were stained with weakness, and pain,
So, I was nothing more than a
Miserable ball and chain.

I slipped into the dark jungle,
All hidden and remote, 
Where nobody would need to hear
Cries issued from my throat.

My cabin had enough space for
One table and one chair.
It was a blessed relief to know,
No one could find me there."

The glum words urged the drifter's heart
And drew him to the hut.
The image in the table's chair 
Then, punched him in the gut.

The old man's mournful, decaying face  
Stopped and froze him in place. 
The grim, unsettling vision was 
His own crestfallen face.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Sounds of Sounding Feet -

I am adamant hi cringe at the thought of dirty feet
I am biased and subconscious of crimson vegetable beets
No longer nowhere do you find coconut treats
Chocolate covered crimson beige grasshopper leaves
While ants are scrimmaging laterally liking playing football
And bees are buzzing around making a buzzzzz sound
Fluttering butterflies fluttering flattering floating
 around above the ground the lower the sky has
Yet the parlay fleet of grasshoppers marching crickets rubbing their legs
Sounding off while they here are they there seemingly they're everywhere
Skreet Skreet Skreet the screeching sounds that come from their feet
Chirping chirping chirping where are they and do they ever sleep
I too have feet and I'm a floor runner
Twix and tween my corns and bunions 
I'm coming running on my feet for you



9/14/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member At the Rendezvous In Soup Creek

One day in Soup Creek City, 
There was a duel 'tween Cunningham and Watt 
Tom said to John "I hear you're good, 
Let me see, son- what you've got" 

John said to Tom "You're not the only one 
With a gun that fires ink 
Tom looked at John in the eye 
Then he guzzled down his drink 

He said "That may be true, boy 
But I've got the fastest gun in town 
I'll fire out a few limericks
That will spin your head around" 

That's when the sheriff "Koplin" 
Walked in Soup Creek's saloon 
With pistols by his side 
He held a big bright blue balloon 

He said to Tom and John 
Let's take this duel outside 
I'll lock-up the one who shoots the other 
And give the balloon to the one who died 

Right before they walked outside 
Someone shot the balloon big bright and blue 
The fastest lady gun around 
That all the townsmen knew 

Jenna was her name 
She walked in six-inch heels 
She usually rides around Soup Creek 
On her bicycle that has three wheels 

She shot that big bright blue balloon 
As it wobbled through the air 
Then it burst with a bang and zig-zagged 
Till it landed on someone's chair 

The chair belonged to Gershon Wolfe 
The hangman of Soup Creek 
But someone shouted "He's in the out-house... 
He went to fix a leak" 

Milton, Lawless and Mike Gentile 
They were playing "Hold 'em" around the table 
While Andrea, Constance, and Tania 
Was playing "No-Peek" out in the stable 

Alexis, Eve, Heidi, Kim and Belle 
They were singing a country song 
Victor, Arlo, Vijay and Jim Slaughter 
They Joined in to sing along 

Wendy, Paula, Brenda and Jennifer 
Valsa, Sara and "Sunshine" Anne-Lise 
They were drinking shots of whiskey 
Trying to make some peace 

With Sam K, Jo and Brandy 
DebM and Anaya too! 
Because they all had their eyes on Charlie "two-stepping"
Down at the rendezvous
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member A Shadow of Time

Like the burning tree, resting on the clouds
The glow of the sun, hidden...flourishes 
Mirrored waters, tween the tall grass-marsh, crowds 
Before the night...when the sun perishes
 
Once caught, are the crabs of past generations 
Like rabbits, how fast they come and they go 
My fathers boat, beyond renovations 
I can see him still...with oars he would row
 
Mom, at home waiting...for dad's buckets full 
Waters boiling, nut crackers for the claws 
Grandmother waits too...as she knits her wool 
Waiting to eat crabs with her long jowl jaws 

These days of old I will never forget 
A shadow of time...my mind's silhouette


 
(Photo #3)

Choices Poetry Contest 
Sponsor Sara Kendrick 
5-12-2019
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member The Little Boy I Was

The little boy I was…
The man I’m s’posed to be…
The distance ‘tween the two
Vast as the open sea.
The dreams I had are gone.
Naught left but memories,
And nothing in their place.
The worst of cruelties.

The little boy I was
I’m glad can’t see me now.
The changes I have made
Are more than he’d allow.
The man I’m meant to be?
He’d view me with disgust.
Lambast me to my face
For losing that boy’s trust.

And here, alone, I stand
Not either of the two
But somewhere in between
Not knowing what to do.
That little boy I was,
The man I’m s’posed to be,
Are both forever gone
Replaced by only me…
Form: Rhyme

Casting Off The Bow Line

Casting Off The Bow Line

Goodbye
my unwed darling
I’m married
to this dream

Freedom
calling out to me
betrothal thus
redeemed

Bachelorhood
a Siren’s calling
Feted tween
the sails

Truant winds
to act upon
Legends
tell the tale

Setting off
this final time
Rudder
in my hand

Truth when hoisted
up the mast
Liberty
— commands

(Dreamsleep: February, 2024)

So Imbued

Crime without sanction
honor among thieves
Tomatoes tomattos
prudish obscene

Rules as their written
intention entwined 
Good becomes bad
sight becomes blind

Credence engendered
by those so imbued 
A prince or a pauper
depends on your view

The world in a tailspin
no two think the same
the baby the bathwater
— praising the blame  

(The New Room: February, 2024)


Time Awaits

Not connected to 
the dollar

Courted
never wed

Engaged to no one
but himself

Making
his own bed

All fame and fortune
lost to fate

Constancy
of mind

Whose future readers
time awaits

His legacy
— to find

(The New Room: February, 2024)
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Private Eye and the Femme Fatale

Through his door she wafts, all eye candy and cigarette smoke. Feigning fear and need with a promise of earthly delights in trade. He, standing strongly alone, listens attentively but always sees more than is shown. Seemingly he melts in her warm, feminine hands, to be molded into someone more useful but easily discarded. Each play their games, vying for goals not perceived by the other. The hand may be more swift than the eye, but the heart… the heart is always quicker still. In the end, neither gains what they search for but both receive more than anticipated.

There can be no trust
‘Tween those who routinely lie
And those who seek truth.


5/3/2019
Pick A Title, Vol 4 - Haibun Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh

4th Place winner 5/24/19
Form: Haibun

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