Long Twitched Poems
Long Twitched Poems. Below are the most popular long Twitched by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Twitched poems by poem length and keyword.
A lonely, cold gecko unstuck itself, unsteady,
from the cliff-face, bedroom wall.
A certain, short leap onto my pillow, then to calmly
move up over my sleeping form to my open face,
and there to kiss my closed
eyelids with rasping lips and sticky tongue.
"Lickety Split !"
"Spittle & Slick !"
It clicked and twitched this little tune as it did its rough work
on my quiet eyes. A slow massage,
moving orbits in their boney optical universe,
rolling, rotating, revolving behind the blue-veined lids
of my galaxy.
You didn't spot the camouflage,
didn't see the gecko,
just thought I was dreaming
with my eyes open
There was a witch named Mary Fitch
that had an awful itch
to ditch her old phone
for the latest smartphone.
The sales person had given her a pitch
to switch
it did not matter which.
She had twitched
flinched
at getting a loan,
but she wanted to make the phone her own.
She was not rich,
hated to spend a lot of money;
it had not been funny
if there had been a glitch
in the phone which
would not have been,
yet she understood.
She had been bewitched,
broke the itch, ditched
switched.
She wasn't rich,
but she felt rich
with her new smartphone
that was her very own.
10/14/2019
The time between sunrise and sunset
To some people serene, to some fret.
While humans pass their time in rest
The animals show urge of leaving nest.
The moon was above mountain rock
When I behold something in shock.
I found a carcass in white thick sand,
The poor wretched with twitched hand.
The two big eyes seemed to gaze at me.
How piteous a sight for a mortal’s eye!
The death of another youth in the earth
In an age which is for delight and mirth.
O immortal youth! Let not fear hell
Though you are dead but I foretell
This glorious loss would be undying
As your daring act is death-defying.
The dew of dark night upon the grass
Is weeping for you and saying, “Alas!”
I hold this sealed Sugar-pot and swear
“Heroic Ant, you will lie here forever.”
Old Mrs. Gable stared from
her porch with cold, hollow
eyes.
Children avoided her rotting
mansion, fearing her sharp,
bitter tongue.
When she died inside, the
neighborhood breathed a
sigh of relief.
Yet the heavy velvet curtains
still twitched whenever
anyone walked by.
The rusted front gates would
screech open, inviting the
curious inside.
Those who dared enter
found her scowling portrait
watching their steps.
Her rocking chair swayed on
the hardwood with no wind
around.
A raspy, phantom voice
hissed from the dark,
demanding they leave.
Then the doors slammed
shut, locking the trespassers
in her trap.
She is still entity, and now
they belong to her house
forever.
My laptop hiccuped twice last night.
Then sneezed a cloud of snot and phlegm.
The cursor did a moonwalk, a back-flip.
Then crashed in cyber fake delirium.
The printer printed hieroglyphs.
The toaster broadcast a fax.
My smartwatch went completely feral,
Demanding better bigger data packs.
Glitches in stitches, twitches, and itches,
Pixels doing flip-flop, digital switches.
Bugs in the plugs and chips in the ditches—
I’m laughing in stitches, at all the glitches.
My blender gained self-awareness.
It screamed and shrieked with binary leaks.
Liquefying my breakfast oats
Over the ceiling and my new wallpaper.
The traffic lights blinked green,
Then yellow, red, and blue between.
While sat-nav sent me confidently,
Through somebody’s washing machine.
The robot vacuum lost its mind.
Choked on socks I left behind.
It circled like a hungry Mako,
Then swallowed my baguette.
I tried to patch the glitches.
Reboot the brute, twitched machine.
But breakers tripped and circuits sparked,
While wicked wild widgets twitched so mean,
As chaos reigned supreme, in the neon sheen.
Glitches in stitches, twitches, and itches,
Rich little hitches in Silicon's britches.
They're all to blame, despite their fame,
Laughing aloud at my glitches in stitches.
If the day
contemplated a year
then,
I have lived lifetimes
in an hour.
if a moment
could have moulded me,
it was this one
when our atoms danced
at first contact,
in the static
and uncomfortable,
I felt a rub that said
‘stand sharp’
I watched the blue
of your eyes
cloud with a storm,
and your fingers twitched
I unfolded my wings,
burnt, torn and scarred,
and with the balm
of your palms
my wings were bandaged
soothed
healed
now I soar
as you watch
and,as I fly
the tempest
in your eyes spreads,
I ride the lightning
embraced in a thunderclap
My lips twitched and curve
To form one dazzling swerve
A blossoming common touch
Costless but it does much
It enriches those who sees and receives
Stealing nothing from those who gives
Each facets one unique style
To execute may take for awhile
But it's effect vibrates - ripples
Lasting longer than a lifetime
It invites rapport and camaraderie
Bewitching harmless sting of robbery
Imparting rest to the weary
Cheering to anyone that's bleary
Reflecting light to the lonely
Edgeless to any man made theory
A natural antidote to trouble
One happy path to the aisle
Smile... smile... smile...
by
olive eloisa
11:36 pm
April 27, 2014
The meadow lay dark, dank, hushed, cold and clammy.
Nothing dared to move,
to break the soliloquent solitude.
Time stood still, adjourned, awaiting a warp to lift the lag.
Then, the moon peeped out from the edge of a dark cloud.
Everything changed, the scene was awash with perception,
beyond the touch of braille dots, enlightened.
Dew drops on grass blades sparkled,
with mini moon images, captured within.
An owl opened its eyes to scan the scene, enraptured.
A rabbit twitched its nose, sniffing for scents, wafting.
Now you could see the breeze caressing the grass, ebbing and waving.
See the dew drops dislodged from leaves fall, tumbling as tear-drops.
The moonlight painted the scene as it brightened,
colors and textures infilling in waves.
Not a still life landscape,
but with colors ever so slowing growing in intensity and contrast.
A beam of moonlight squirmed its way across the meadow,
as if parting the grass with a furrow.
Then, as the full moon escaped from behind the cloud,
flooding light all over the entire meadow,
the scene was fixed, its dynamism quelled, expelled, in past tense.
The sleeper awoke, looked out the window,
admired the moonlight on meadows scene
oblivious to how the moon had gradually developed the scene,
like a fixative develops a print from a negative film.
The image darkening and transforming into view as if my magic.
The sleeper returned to sleep, oblivious to how the scene of the meadow
developed with the first few seconds of moonlight caste upon it.
Never knowing what they missed as the moonlight first alit the meadow,
delightfully developing the scene before it was fixed, and paint dried.
My, My what the sleeper missed!
As he sped down the highway late one night
A beautiful hitch hiker he happened to see
He stopped and did what was right
And picked up this mysterious beauty
She smiled and said her name was Dianne
He introduced himself as Sam
The truth was she was an alien
Hours before her spaceship did land
But when Sam tried to get fresh
She took a bite out out of his flesh
He screamed in pain as blood spurted everywhere
This pretty hitch hiker was now a monster to be feared
In a matter of minutes Sam was dead
Down the highway the hitch hiker now sped
She arrived in the next town about 8:15
Just in time for Halloween
That night she feasted on vampires
And bit off the nose of a witch
But the zombies pushed her in the ditch
And feasted on her till she twitched
It was a lesson to this alien queen
Never visit earth on Halloween....
"Snapdragons and Dandy Lions - Part 2"
The day was cooling down
pressing itself close into
the amythest and musk pink early eve
as the eggshell pale blue sky rolled over into
Astor Purple to get ready for sleep.
The Ostrich Ferns rustled,
We’d frightened the Blue Tongue, he’d run back to his lair.
Coming in from the Ocean now
there came a light breeze.
I was looking for four leaf clovers
and Skink eggs but they were to be found nowhere
while she knelt in her rock garden planting
Agapanthas, Gladiolus, Calla Lillies,
Daffodils, Fresias and Pansies -
there were loose bulbs everywhere
and packets of Tulip
and Blue-Eyed Susan seeds.
Sooty, the Black cat sat
and watched with knowing sly eyes
twitched his whiskers, licked a paw on ‘his’ Window Sill,
he looked very wise.
We’d been making Daisy Chains,
she’d placed on our hair like Crowns.
Of course,
3’s always a bad number, it's never neat,
there’d been fights in between – still,
we were her adoring subjects, her princesses and
SHE our beautiful and kind QUEEN.
“Do you know why I love Snapdragons the best?” the QUEEN declared,
“They’re the knights of this garden –
they get a bad rap because of their name.
Look at their faces though,
they’re ferocious not frightened of anything,
great courage they always stand firm.
It’s the blasted Dandy Lions,
well they scare easy,
blow away every time
there’s a storm
and they leave a damned mess”.
She looked at us, and said,
“You’re like those Snapdragons my beautiful girls.
Always stand together.
Always stand firm”.
(Lovejoy-Burton/2017 Dec)
(1)
"Under the Ivy"/Kate Bush
https://youtu.be/NvKNzyO4wk0
(2)
"Datura"/Tori Amos
https://youtu.be/WX_dwuF-6oY