Long Twenty four Poems

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


Constipation Hell Worse Than Perdition

less than twenty four hours after dashing off a poem 
   explaining why i wanted to die
found me experiencing physical duress vis a vis, 
   a bowel movement wherein waste unable to expel 

   from the anus of this guy
which bout with rectal obstruction 
   found me doubled over 
   with lower abdominal distress 

   whereby comfort found me unable to lie
down nor sit upright (with back padded with pillows 
   against the cellar brick wall), 
   thus severe bloating a bonus well nigh

and managed to muster the means to bare 
   frigid arctic vortex aire to purchase 
   the Acme brand Metamucil, 
   which akin to drano doth ply
thru the excretory tract 
   supposedly loosening the stools,
 
   which optimism (product 
   didst earn claim to fame) generated a sigh
if that expressed intent 
   to cease livingsocial would try

humph enjoining 
   this lvii year old married male 
   to cede victory 
   to the grim reaper, who would vie

as winner de jure 
   to this common fellow invoking libretto 
   ohm resistant understudy waste not want not 
allowing, enabling and providing relief, 
   without successful defecation 

   despite the oppressive urge to bolster this uriah 
heap of balled up and tuckered i.e. pooped out 
   five foot and ten inches of lovely bones 
   thence mouthing retraction 
   of former thought to cease existing,

though a non-bull lever 
   in any power broker qua mankind
   relief at long last 
   provided posterior answered prayer 
   yet, this scrivener scrutinizes 
   his recurring pain in the ass jagged torture
   and asks 
   a rhetorical one word question "WHY"?
Form: Concrete


If your best work is produced while the moon is still awake

If your best work is done at night,
Which is now no longer your right 
With neighbors to to your right of you,
With neighbors to the left of you,
Neighbors on top of you
Who don't want to hear a sound out of you, 
Before breakfast,
And if they do, 
Your insurance had better be paid up,
In case the wrong people, you wake up.

If your best work is done at night, 
While the moon is still bright,
And you passion for your work is at its lowest under sunlight,
It may be time for you to pack up,
Before you get too many backs up,
And head for places,
Where the neighbors to the right of you,
The neighbors to the left of you,
Are far enough away, not to hear the sound of you,
Or where the roar of the traffic,
Is horrific, 
For the full twenty four hours,
And it is safe for you to work your normal hours.
Form: Burlesque

Premium Member My Hour Glass Figure

It's been raining for more than twenty-four hours

But the rain can never dampen my spirits

The sun is shining brightly in my soul

I do not have special abilities

I just think “positive”

Anyone can do it

Even you

So give it a try

What d'ya have to lose

This resembles an hour glass

And that my dear friends is what life is

When the sands of time run out, think back

Did you make a difference in someone else's life

Or was I selfish and thought only of what's good for me

Hope I can say I left earth a better place than when I arrived



THINK POSITIVE!!!


© Jack Ellison 2014
Form: Narrative

Moving Mountains

My prayer is clamorous, “Let this cup pass.”
somewhat pious, a smidgen of brass.
God's Word relates how mountains were moved,
waters turned back and shackles removed.

Thus so I make my request to heaven
“Lord, the strain is twenty-four, seven.
“Lord, I can’t think in this eternal noise.
“The mess, the stress, I confess, it annoys."

My simple prayer, "If there's another way,
some stroke of luck; take me out of this fray.
God, move my mountain, can you make it flee?"
Quietly His answer came; the mountain is me.

He moved my cup to a much better place -
And filled it full with salvation’s grace.
His grace - sufficient for any event.
my arrogance - feeble excuse to vent.

July 10, 2022

Sponsor	Edward Ibeh
Contest Name	Pick-A-Title, Vol 31
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member A Grain of Sand

From the first time that I saw you
When few were in your corner
I watched you from a distance
And I saw you, play a stormer
There was thunder in the air
And you made my young heart sing
For I knew, I’d seen the makings
Of the new M.M.A. King

I seen you dance, a lethal dance
With the look of the insane
A kick, a punch, like rifle shots
White lightning in your veins
To those that said, “you couldn’t”
The ‘Belt’s’ above your station
Your confidence and brilliance
Helped lift, a flagging nation

My name, my friend, is Steven Walsh
And I danced a ‘different tune’
A grain of sand, in a desert storm
A hope among the ruin
Obscurity, was not my way
My thoughts they couldn’t gag
The proudest moment, in my life
To hold our Irish Flag

Five thousand years, before today
Then you’d have been a Pharaoh
A life cut short at twenty four
I got to meet my Hero
No equal on this planet
A body, lean and mean
Each time you fight, I’m at your side
That’s me, upon the screen

So, Conor, if you’re listening
I’m always in your corner
I’ll watch you here, from Heavens Gate
And know, you’ll play a stormer
There is thunder in the air
And you make my young heart sing
For I knew you'd be the makings
Of the new M.M.A. King
Form: Rhyme


I Hate Robocalls

I hate robocalls!

Inxs of recorded messages   
transmitted automatically 
to my telephone number 
by automatic dialing device.

I turn off damn ringer,
and disassemble (carefully 
as disabling a time bomb) 
internal workings nevertheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls
digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English

differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape
gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench

get catapulted into
outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
(minus the green eggs)
oh... yes even after life,
while weightlessly 
pinwheeling in limbo,

particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...
yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal

spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author
instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly, 

egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly
vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)
sundering coalescence 
regarding colonizing black screen

aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,
contributes to conspiracy theory
linkedin with ghost calls
thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams
on a green day.

Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living person
asked courteously by his name
of the human league,
I police tell the caller
purely coincidental!

Through Your Heart's Open Door

I-t's a beautiful Wednesday, 
R-ed beacon shines in the sky; 
I-t brightens the darkest night, 
S-aving the blue lane up 
H-igh.

A-nother morn has broken, 
N-ew dawn comes out early; 
N-o more mist in the air, 
E-ventide is just a memory.

A-ccept my warm wishes, 
R-hyme and acrostic greeting; 
E-very word makes the line, 
V-erse and song so comforting.
A-llow me to send them to you, 
L-et them wipe away tears; 
O-de of mine takes the load away from your shoulders.

S-unny month of February, 
I-nside day twenty-four; 
A-wesome sentence slips
T-hrough your heart's open door.
Form: Acrostic

Premium Member Wawa

Your stores are conveniently located wherever I’m on my way.
Not only that, you are open twenty-four hours a day.
I can always buy your gasoline at a moderate price.
Breakfast items and deli sandwiches look fresh and nice.
An early morning commute can usually be a pain.
I can stop and get a cup of coffee at any store in the chain.
That always makes the trip a lot easier for me.
Two words that describe your operations are “convenience” and “efficiency”.
All your outlets are fine examples of quality.
The cleanliness of the stores and friendliness of employees does impress.
In the world of business, I wish you a lot of success.
Form: Rhyme

Page Twenty Four

Sometimes I think, what if I'm wrong. Everything 
nowadays seems like vanity even I have my days where I 
can't stand me, looking back on my life like daylight 
savings I still live with no regrets hell I can't save it, I'm 
inconsistent with women in the past I gave my all too, but 
I can't help myself its who I am and what I always do, but 
after so many failed attempts its got me thinking,  
wondering will I ever get the same in return so as I take a 
glimpse into the near future, what if what I'm asking for 
will never happen, we live in a world where everybody 
gives their all too hate don't give enough to love, single 
parent homes without children that miss out on kisses & 
hugs. So on the quest with what I'm searching for its got 
me wondering maybe I'm just impatient tired of waiting 
tired of giving and I don't get, tired of bending over 
backwards for love and the same im giving out I don't get 
I'm their addiction this all of me that I give is their next fix 
but I'm the one who got his emotions caught up in the 
mix I'm sick...but I can't help it but I'm also helpless to 
give love unconditionally so freely is a selfless act but 
when will it be my turn to get that same feeling back...
© Corey Ross  Create an image from this poem.
Form: ABC

Premium Member January 24 2016

January 24 2016
By Franklin Price
1/24/2015

Woke up this Sunday morning
A nip was in the air
Twenty-four on the outside
But I don't really care

I'm nestled in my warm house
The thermostat at seven three
I think it's really toasty 
It's set just right for me

The snow that Jonas left us
Still out there on the ground
A bright blue sky is overhead
The sun is shining down

The snow is getting icy
I think it soon will melt
So grateful that I am alive
So in prayer I have knelt

I thank you lord for giving me
The life that I have had
Every day when I awake
You make me very glad

You've provided me with riches
Not in the monetary way
But with a lovely wife and family
And friends who make my day

As long as you will have me
On this earth to spend my time
I promise I'll be grateful
Even though I'm past my prime

So with that God I'm closing
I'll try hard not to sin
Please guard us all on this fine day
And thank you lord again... Amen
Form: Rhyme

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