Long Twittering Poems
Long Twittering Poems. Below are the most popular long Twittering by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Twittering poems by poem length and keyword.
I find a great deal to learn
from Republican
Supremacist
Nationalistic
Nihilistic Evangelical Rapture
about how to lose eco-political sanity
and lose ecological health.
It feels important to remember
and respect
basic nutritional dumping facts
of public health through reinvestment
and global climate pathology through extraction
apartheid
blame and shame
Some movements smell,
but this does not remove them
from appropriate gut matters
for poets
saints
and sinners.
We civilized Western straight white people
worry about this so much
we dump our waste into our water,
intentionally polluting and sacrificing Earth-generic purity,
rather than planting it in soil,
where healthy scat can grow robust
resilient public and private nutritional green wealth.
Of course poop stinks
or it smells of developing resonant possibilities
for healing polluted
stagnant
depressed
economies;
Fragrance of probabilities
for redeeming corrupted political dissociations,
Sentient scents for a truly multicultural
salvific
robust
resonant
resilient sacred theology
advocating spaces
and time
for natural ecology.
Of course your body waste stinks
of outside wealth-nurturing memories.
But, does it smell healthy,
or too red meat-eater
predative RightWing
toilet twittering
of rapaciously OtherUnWise eco-politics?
If you believe professional athletes
should punch their Free Speech Rights out
when they punch in their employment clock,
Why is it fair
to also believe
you have not twittered out your violent
and racist
and sexist
Free NonViolent Speech Rights
when you laid hands on
and pledged your crossed-finger heart
to Presidential FakePatriotic AntiAllegiance
to One First Native MultiCulturing Nation,
for which it stands
under God,
not so much idolatrously and supremely above?
With growing equity, not supremacy,
and WinWin cooperative liberty,
not competitive WinLose violent
and ballistic
restricted TopSecret mega-loyalty corporations,
and for ecojustice of, from, and for All
Species
and climates
and cooperative health care giving and receiving
ecopolitical reassurances
patriotic for ecojustice
inter-network nationed
Sacred Earth,
Headed toward polycultural-endorsing Free NonViolent Speech Outcomes
and away from MonoCulturing Twitters
cheerleading Mindless Speech
as AntiAmerican Outputs,
Indulged and over-invested in too-Yanged ballistic word choices,
not suitable for young non-violent ears and eyes,
as if such were super-calorie patriotic expedited delicious
flag waving
and wearing
and wrapping,
rather than anti-matriotic hearts of loyal-honorable matters
of and for healthy Earth climates,
both inside sacred Twittering
and outside polypathic healthy-wealth
ecopolitically incarnating.
You choose fake patriotism news,
but we,
both Left and Right,
permaculturally prefer
keepin' it realtime jazzy gospel,
Sacred Matriotic Revolutionary Rhythm
and Timeless Blues.
Patriotism is about commitment
to freedom
and justice
and equity
and mercy
and love
and compassion
and justice,
and not at all about feeling bullied to act in ways
that could only betray the integrity of your commitments
to freedom
and justice
and equity
and mercy
and love
and compassion
and peace
and justice for and with All Earthlings,
singing and dancing our best rhythms
as yet timeless blues.
I will reach my roots deep
into the solid mass of Earth,
down into the sweet concrete of life.
Beside a blue rippling stream I will rest
and birds will make their nest in my branches.
A gentle wind will whisper through my emerald
and I will stand a proud and strong and solid soul.
No storm will ever topple me from my firm foundation,
no ax will find me as I am hidden deep in a tangled woods.
Only the sun and clouds know my name when I call to them.
At my base purple violets grow each Spring it seems,
and in the Fall I am so lovely with my leaves of ruby red.
Oh yes, I love my winter coat of soft snow white and ice,
But in Spring, oh Spring that is when my roots go deep,
deeper and deeper, further and further in the soil.
And I am mighty and I am strong all summer long,
listening to the sweet chirping and twittering
of baby birds and the touch of butterflies.
Perhaps, you will find me,
and come rest
beneath me
one day
just you
me and the shade
_________________________
March 24, 2018
Poetry/Concrete/''Tree''
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1320-148-24
All Rights Reserved, 2018, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, Podium Placing Promise (6)
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 01/12/21
Second Place
I like when music and nature blend in an unbroken rhapsody,
with waves crashing in my mind,
and graceful notes of a piano drifting in the lush forest.
oh, the twittering, chirping of birds mingling with a gentle flute,
the whisper of the wind entangled with violins that quiver,
and I am floating in the throbbing overture of music,
and nature . . .
I like-
when music and nature b l e n d
in an unbroken rhapsody
with waves c r a s h I n g in my mind
and graceful notes of a piano drifting
In the LUSH forest
oh the t w I t t e r I n g
c h i r p I n g of birds mingling with
a gentle flute . . .
the gentle whisper of the wind
entangled
with violins that q u I v e r
and I am floating
in the throbbing overture of
MUSIC and n a t u r e
_____________________
October 9, 2016
Poetry/Verse/"Unbroken Rhapsody"
Copyright Protected, ID 16-838-746-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Courtesy of Marx (albeit Zeppo,
Harpo, Groucho, and Chico), whose
acts (along Seuss iz Zacks Fifth
Avenue) brought generations of
laughter to Vaudeville, and then
the Silver Screen adlibbed, linkedin,
and ransacked skits zoid material
Bing very loosely based on his best
known writings (Oh Pee Yet Of The
Masses) by Karl Marx (no relation
to Bros Grin), and Friedrich Engels
whar they whiz instrumental qua
Cingular Capitalone political philosophy
paradigm as spit, and (shoe) shining,
seducing, and salivating players trans
formed Msn Netzero Linkedin Petsmart
Aleck outlook and pinterest, when their
collective insight did cents how masses
(i.e. bourgeois) took a rakish (otherwise)
up standing Norwegian bachelor farmer
for comic relief to break monotony of
agrarian obligations, and serve up one
heaping healthy portion per production,
sans whatever whims would crop
up by infusing thespian showdown
incorporating commune nic cache shun
(disproportionate) app peals studded terrain
with locked havens avast re shtetl ment.
Hoi Polloi re: common folk in sore need
of distraction and belief in a brighter side
of life, than saliva dehydrating brute nose
to the grindstone pathetic existence, yoked
as oxen to plows, where plodding tattered
shod feet scraped a pencil thin line, whence,
seeds sprinkled into futile ruts forecast angry
birds to shutterfly, twittering like bada$$
beastie boys Dharma bumming while On
The Yellow Brick Road.
Inn ascent bystanders avian avatars initially
supposedly sprung from ergot, mushroom
and/or smut spores, whereas the myth of
one mortal idol (Matthew Scott Harris) did
rival Vladimir Ilich (frequently corrupted into...
Cacophony by Dr Ranjit Dutta
Hi gentleman!
I am bored
Bored of talking to silence
Throughout the years
Now I want to talk
I want to talk
Of my reddish burned heart
Sitting with you in cacophony
And listen the twittering Of morning Birds.
I'll drown in the uproar
Slowly and silently,
The cracking dreadful sound of
Night insects 'll vanish in cacophony.
Hi gentleman!
Do you like to talk to me
And to share me
the untold tale of your rosy heart?
The beam of divine pleasure'll
Knock the closed
Doors of my heart.
I feel excited
As I have been playing with silence
Since long
I'm now throwing my loneliness
For you only.
My heart is filled with cacophony
Only the sweet beat of cacophony
Cacophony of a dream
A bit of light
And some beliefs of life.
Form:
"Amid the jagged shadows of mossy leafless boughs; " Samuel Taylor..
I stand amidst the stillness of the graveyard and browse
My unbearable anguish like drooping flowers surge,
Amid the jagged shadows of mossy leafless boughs,
While hungry birds fly round twittering a plaintive dirge.
The old oak tree now denuded from all its green leaves
Time pass, forlorn eerie mist descends hiding the grave
Then sparkling white snow flutter down, thus my heart bereaves,
Bringing on hopelessness that dear life can never save.
No flowers by request she always maintained and said.
I could not bear to see others hide her from my view,
I disobeyed her and covered her with roses red.
Memories flooded my mind with thoughts that I pursue.
In the painful stillness of heart, I know death does part
But like the nude oak tree, no one can refill my heart.
1 November 2021
Placed 1
Selection No. 3 Stillness
''S'' Contest, New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Foremost On My Bucket List?
Yo yo ma...though your absence
doth suddenly cause me woe,
no matter parting with
many bittersweet sorrows
long since consciousness unstrung
more'n fourteen plus years ago,
the last surviving Kuritsky
grim reaper enviously eventually snatched,
outliving demise of my Uncle Paul,
your once favorite sibling and only bro
tis grief that rankles, shackles, torments...,
thus caw zing such poetic twittering I crow
yea, this sole son bare knuckles
scraping along without dough
suddenly riven with mortal anguish -
worse fate than death - or bloated ego
willpower to live life to the max
hardened ice floe
despite promising futures
regarding thee deux daughters
that doth find me to glow
my spirit analogous to santa
deprived of his cheery, hearty
guffawing, and merry ho ho ho
yours truly seems condemned
to suffer, a worse fate
than freezing during whiteout
blizzard conditions barring
access to igloo,
brutally cold as Jupiter's Io
spirit felled by juggernaut, no
joking hence I don't feel Jew
bull, ah if yours truly knew
thee torturous emotional state threw
out every fiber upon
last fading memory...of you
unfairly condemned to suffer,
yes my lack of loo
cre immaterial, whence death
stole thee to realm afterlife queue
no doubt, a welcome reprieve aye rue
versus less cruel fate,
viz prolonged illness
comeuppance impales me
body, mind and askew
being pitched, where
adventurousness gungho fear slew,
feeling buzz with aliveness
(akin to David and Goliath)
unable to shake melancholy blue
nostalgic for underworld view
where cessation will find me
inaudibly coffin with a whew!
Moss Cowed Covenant I Keep Putin Off...
For preservation, salvation,
and veneration, though with hold
ding temptation two mike
pence sieve lee clear,
to immoral majority mold
toot hoods, (those bajillion
Americans unanimously polled)
did want me to broadcast, communicate,
and declare, sans mock cut up fold
drawl migrant accent,
(no matter I'm getting old),
nonetheless Ivana trumpet from Taj Mahal
straight to Mar-A-Lago) all told,
plus thank commensurate Republicans
(past or present), who extolled,
an invisible grandiose fire walled
barricade (donning, enclosing,
and fortifying) against Carl mauled
din lookalike hackers,
despite one sporting "FAKE"
hook nosed, hunchbacked
donned with torn (Turin) shawled,
shrouded, and disguised vagrant, indigent,
double chinned agent – bald
(except for being bewigged),
viz flowing locks of "FAKE" gold
in toe with Amazon heavily funded
unbridled trailing retinue
chanting appellation Matthew
Scott Harris alias Oswald),
no matter said faux
renegade twittering lobbyists
flock (like lemmings) within his fold,
and will happily, laughably parody
any vigilantes spot on cold,
what with his bugs
bunny eyed (What's up Doc)
intent reader rabbit stare,
that doth playfully scold
any Bare Ladies scantily
linkedin, NOT nsync
with netiquette politesse mold
dinned communication, (asper
my pork chopped message
higglety pigglety divulged)
obeying tacit gold
din rule to hoodwink public, nonetheless
lemme exemplify, how
Democrats plan to hold
world web hostage
by secret Ransomware sold,
thru dark web bitcoin blockchain trolled
to collude with "crooked Hillary"
under Ponzi scheme auspices doled
courtesy, sans spongebobsquarepants
omnipotent NON GMO
gluten CRISPR rolled
oat sized INTEL nanobots,
no bigger than mold
spores heavily scrutinizing,
policing, monitoring and
fortifying electronic Internet scaffold.
Oh, a lull of stillness, such soothing calm and tranquility,
I have fallen into eternity to a lullaby-
of little birds twittering, chirping, singing above my grave.
Among the rows, rows of graves and graves and quiet stone statues,
different birds make their nests in odd places and tend their young-
it could be a blue jay, a warbler, a sparrow, chickadee.
Perhaps a finch, or robin, or blue bird- or a red cardinal,
I loved all birds in life and still do in my eternal rest-
oh, I love their tweets after the rain has fallen on my grave.
They even visit me in the frozen ice depths of winter,
oh, why did I fear death when it is so peaceful and safe here-
but life, life, life- my regret is that I had things still to do.
_________________________
February 12, 2020
Poetry/Tristich/A Lull
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1225-133-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France