Long Underhand Poems

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


Premium Member My One Goal

I have one goal, that is to become whole
Not to be faultless, but a gracious soul
To not become angry, but understand
When folk do the things I find underhand.

Anger does nothing but drive one insane
Those causing it, to them it's just a game
Must learn to let those hurtful words depart
Not to let them sting alike a thrown dart.

With only goodwill and fine deeds to do
A smile to greet all those that I meet too
My heart would then increase millionfold
It would seem my life was made of pure gold.

I must remember to pray day and night
That I can become a beacon of Light
Listening to what the Lord has to say
On how to shine bright, in a godly way.

Hoping it won’t be long for me to reach
The goal I desire, that will gift me peace.
I wish to be remembered, when I’m gone
For a lifetime well lived, by everyone.
Form: Rhyme


I Have Dignity

If you knew, you would understand.
If you cared, you'd try.
If you don't you're underhand,
so why not tell me goodbye.

I am not a stepping stone.
I am not a temporary thing.
I am not here to make you smile,
or for your bias happiness to bring.

This is life not just a test.
This is no rehearsal.
This is over for the best,
how about that for a reversal.

If it is given then give some back.
If it is beautiful share it.
If it is broke then let it be,
do not provoke nor dare it.

Farewell to you half heartedly.
Farewell to you ex lover.
Farewell for I have dignity,
and now I must recover.
© Jon K   Create an image from this poem.

Female To Honor


Female Sempai, Geisha for her Man,
has not shed her feminine garb.
No replacement theology of female kimono 
designing of tailored and defiant underhand.
. Her graceful steel honor honored still. in your gaze Blossoms bloom in beauty’s shade,
Elysia dances in a blaze.
Silken postulance gleams like golden dawn, 
shining beacon of value borrowed form, 
from a garden of maturity amongst 
fresh starts humble but proudly born 
against the dark tides of nightfall of gender, 
but you swim stalwartly, gracefully rendered,
and tendered as priceless currency.
Unquestioned in your abide, even still in your traditional strides, you magically float.

Your curtain call and mode never surrendered, 
your place not lost in new lies.
but stand tall and properly postured,
call forth to Godzilla or Gamera children,
taming these monsters with your aura-
of Mothera Den.

In a tale of the dance of shadows and light, 
lance in kitten spoiling,
covers mouth giggling, endearing- 
respect full waxing Moon of the Sun, 
never eclipsed, never outdone, outshined or 
parted sum. 
Gentle hand waving soft,
identity, tight-rope, mastery.
Matriarch of many a cleansing breath, 
in the balanced sense a)
You teach us that gentle always 
bends things to its will. b),
You remember the roles of the old ways,
the tried and true enlightened pathway that turns blossoms to honey, pollinates 
a sweet way to hold our eyes aglaze.

Graceful steel, a warrior’s part,
in the lines of a woman, 
a warrior’s heart, refined adaptogen 
you know how to play in chameleon arts.
Strength and beauty intertwined,
In her presence, peace you find
in her precision wrappings Man's great gift 
you are that and of the receiving of God's in kind.
Form: Ode

Premium Member Abc With Mummy - a Woman Scorned

A is for Ant (and for ass, your dad is an example of an ass)
B is for Bee (and for b*stard, your dad is a bast*rd - first class)

C is for Chicken (and for a word I don’t want to say - but see K)
D is for Dog (and also for Dynamite - which I’d like to shove up your dad’s... see A)

E is for Eagle (and for egotistical effing... see K... and C)
F is for Frog (and for Fu*ker, which your dad’s been doing with someone who isn’t me)

G is for Giraffe (and for Git - your dad is a Git... and he has two faces)
H is for Horse (and for Hard Up - which your dad was... in too many places)

I is for Insect (and for Insolvent, which thanks to me, he’ll soon be, with just one legal shove)
J is for Jellyfish (and Judas. Your Dad’s a Judas... with a rash from his illicit love)

K is for Kitten (and for making some words sound worse - see C)
L is for Lion (and Lobster, a creature with claws that belongs at the bottom of the sea - hmmm...)

M is for Mouse (and for machete and for manhood... which gives me an idea)
N is for Newt (and Nymphomaniac - neither should work at IKEA)

O is for Owl (and Optimistic, well, he thought that he left me fulfilled)
P is for Penguin (and for Philandering, at which your daddy is skilled)

Q is for Quail (and for Quickie, the best that your daddy could do)
R is for Rabbit (and Rampant - and once I got that, how did we get you?)

S is for Snail (and for Slug, which describes both your dad and his di*k)
T is for Tiger (and Torrid, your dad was this with some Randy chick)

U is for Unicorn (and Underhand, your dad was this night and day)
V is for Vole (and also VD, hence the rash that was listed in J)

W is for Worm (and for Merchant Banker, thats rhyming slang for your father)
X is for Xerus (and X-rated gel, I bet he’ll work up quite a lather)

Y is for Yak (and for Yesterday’s News, which is all your dad turns out to be
Z is for Zebra (and for Zeees, that his Nympho is catching, asleep next to me)


                                                        *

[Xerus is a genus of African ground squirrel]
Form: Rhyme

It's the batters that matters in this Ashes

Everything that I have read have observed heard said has been about the bowlers instead

Critics and pundits quick to quip that the favoured fillip of Test cricket's taking all 20 wickets

But I reckon as this crackerjack Ashes finally beckons the middle order's the butter & bread

Can the Yorkshire pair Boycott's flair heirs utter with lacy grace and no airs be the comperes

Can't stutter Joe & Harry nations expectations carry as each ace parry harry fill OZ with dread

Underhand sand gate riff of great Smith having a tiff hallowed or biff.. fallowed Archer arrowed

Let's not forget the raring hubris of madhatter Travis Head daring to go where angels fear to tread

Glaring pelter filter out of kilter as we swelter in this flaring helter skelter belter of an Ashes smelter    

Will we be an abroad marauder.. a run hoarder.. adored history recorder who gets the street cred

Experts applaud flatters bowlers as what matters dreams shatters in tatters without the batters dead 

Repeat & rinsed I'm convinced it's all about the riddle of elite red ball middle order princes

Fab four encore who does score more on this tour..Rooty...Piggy.. Brooky or Taches win Ashes Head


Premium Member Super Armand

Tall and handsome was super Armand
Younger days spent in a music boyband
Older he graduated to a heavy rock band
With the stage name of “Collapsin’ Grandstand”

Last summer Armand took a cruise trip to Greenland
Because that was his deep rooted fatherland
Then a hop a skip and a jump over to Iceland 
Tagging on a visit to his sweet motherland

He thought this’d be much better than Disneyland 
For here his music was in most popular demand
Confirmed in all papers at any newsstand
Heard it many a time and it was easy to understand 

Fans cheered and danced at the band’s command 
Everyone in attendance had a time that’s grand
Always had a bigger crowd than planned  
All felt like they had reached the Holy Land    

Never accused of being underhand or bland
Every night in the middle of Armand’s handstand
The crowd wildly cheered for “Collapsin’ Grandstand”
Too hilarious to see how would jump to attention every stagehand



AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Form: Monorhyme

Crash Override


Anaphylactic identity, constricting logic on the 
course towards infinity. Denial is drawn like a tarot 
reading, citing that it is all in your head. Hidden 
mysteries written in code - the key etched in our 
divinity. Searching for a God who shoulders all the 
blame while cartographing our lessons with fate 
Absolute power behind the circuitry, plugged into 
the all-seeing interface led by evasive clues to 
keep the system powered up and running smooth

Damage created by those on bended knees, 
pointing divisive fingers against our natural instincts
outside of the true spectrum. Wired up and held in 
the place of duty - holding on to the inverse of 
programmable time, like cogs in a wheel turning, 
without enough consciousness left in holding
to seek for records with even a misguided way out
Secret vaults protected by monsters in captivity

Borders and walls surrounded by tales of 
adventurous souls, looking upwards and onwards, 
over the ocean, and rocketing into the sky. All so 
the slave remains blind, swept up in fantasy of 
daring escapes - illusions hold them down to work 
harder, building an empire that has been falsified 
underhand - stolen in the name of dignity. Written 
on the tombs of despair to keep us longing for 
something else outside of the current of what is

Then came the virus that attacked the hallucinating 
code of deception. The binding network struck a 
nerve, activating the cleaners to destroy the peace 
that held like soldered resistors. The savior agents 
dropped from their blinded curses, and took up 
their swords like lightning rods. Connected by their 
inner potentials, they set out to remind every neighbor 
near that the codex has always been within

Test cricket is the true start of the English summer

Has been a concern more than a bit of a bummer after months of the dumber & dumber IPL drummer couldn’t be glummer did discern my heart did desperately yearn for Test Cricket’s return and the true start of the English summer..


“Endless spell of hell fanned with pointless strand of “IPL” brand

Fascination with the same same machination.. don’t understand

Aversion to lame tame perversion of game they sell it’s so bland

Fell don’t feed gobby corporate lobby creed.. their greed banned

Stuck in a rut more windows shut tut tut but glut will still expand

Pray tell underhand coercion we plead indeed needs to be canned

Test veneration for deeds seeds sow grow in generation spanned

Still the longest format old hat damned like cricketing contraband

Hall of Fame heed lend a hand or best sort of our sport’s panned

Don't whine if for folklore you pine must draw a line in the sand

Not T20 farce but timeless class and your members pass scanned

No obituary atmosphere soaking and stroking my pituitary gland

Plenty more days of play encore holds sway.. bar dutifully manned

Raise a glass & use a comfy cushion for your ar*e.. getting tanned

Dad & his lad peruse grand views and hues from pews in the stand

No ruse planned muse evoking a beautifully green & pleasant land”
Form: Monorhyme

Premium Member I Live In England

I live in England

My country is not in Google
No one recognises the name
I go under United Kingdom
And no one can explain

I live in the green and pleasant land
Rule Britannia and god save the king
But it’s done underhand
When I look there is nothing

France, Germany, Italy and Spain
Are all allowed to use their name
Mention England the barriers raise
I am as English it’s not a phase

My country is England
I live on my land
I am not Great Britain
Or UK so I say out loud
I live in England
It’s like a swear word
I have never harmed anyone
This name BAN is absurd. 

David cox 24/02/23
© Dave Cox  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Haunted House

I’m visiting the Manor with the paranormal society
It’s said to be haunted; I’m filled with some anxiety
The Duke was murdered, bringing his lover notoriety
With bloodied hands she’s found guilty of impropriety 

The Manor is so spooky, at one time it looked so grand
I startle as the door slams, my boyfriend holds my hand
I shiver when the key turns, there’s something underhand
Being locked in the old Manor wasn’t something I’d planned!

The windows are all boarded up, I’m feeling quite unsure
He tells me not to worry; we can exit from the back door
Cobwebs hang from the ceiling, they’re something I abhor
I wish I’d never agreed to go on this ghost hunting tour

Members wander off in pairs to the renowned haunted zones
Detection equipment is set up; to pick up creaks and groans
We know we must be quiet and talk in such hushed tones
Suddenly our hand held scanners pick up wails and moans

The floorboards begin to creak; we hear footsteps in the hall
A dust covered portrait of the Duke suddenly falls off the wall 
Hairs stand on the back of my neck and my skin starts to crawl
I’ve come to the conclusion I don’t like ghost hunting after all!

Tonight’s paranormal activity has given me such a dreadful fright
We hurry down the staircase; my face has turned a ghastly white
Our torches light up the entrance hall and to our great delight
The huge wooden door swings open and we escape into the night!

Sponsor Dear Heart
Contest The Haunted House

8/23/18
Form: Rhyme

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