Long Upstaged Poems
Long Upstaged Poems. Below are the most popular long Upstaged by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Upstaged poems by poem length and keyword.
Kristel had some old scores to settle for good or for better
She had tried the violin with no significant results other
Than a crystalline chandelier shattering quite frequently
When she raised the bow after too shrieking concertos
In search of achievement performance and other’s acclaim
It reminded her of Oscar in Grass’ tin drum in which the
Protagonist refused to grow but sang at the top of his voice
Maybe she had to be arrested in silence and mute retreat
Instead she had to beat the drum and attack the membranes
Of a different instrument banging from the crest of her soul
She thought to herself to be rather good at it until the neighbours
Asked for an injunction for when the message failed to appease
A tambourine then and she became major but for minor disruption
But she longed for a more central part in her own drama and flow
And would not stay further backstage before and after the curtain
A faded tapestry it turned out to be when her inside kept aching
A silent walk on or a mime in the shadows of subtle diversion but
She sought more than a hobby or discharge of darkness in her quest
Wanted to be heard and not only seen when the narrator upstaged her
Out of nowhere crisp corals of her lonely tune come into rhythm
When Kristel chorded her vocal crescendo free from constraint
She found her voice struck all octaves and blossomed sotto voce
At first it was not apparent where harmony came from and whether
Cadences pretended to cover up discord or claimed syntheses’ mask
Yet when she abandoned personae she soon accorded music and peace
11th February 2019
Day in, and day out, from the ripe old age of five
I’ve take to sharp objects and whittled at their sides.
Plotting the precise angle with penetrating gaze,
the slant of slice, just so nice, as memory replays.
With curt tongue and tireless ire, I shred the sages
Burroughs, and Asimov, the Shakespeare past ages.
Butchering with rare delight, the language on the page
lancing every metaphor and simile upstaged.
and so I've arrived her in rhythm and in rhyme
killing the English language as other people dine.
*Nibbs are the pointed ends of fountain pens
as well as being an important or self-important person
Oh no! What are YOU doing here?
I haven’t seen you in a year!
But I’m sure it’s perfectly clear,
I’m still red-dress fabulous, Dear!
You thought you could steal my spotlight?
You sauntered in like it’s your right.
But now you know, it's no fair fight—
I’m red-dress fabulous, tonight!
Surely you see, it’s my parade!
You’ve been upstaged. You’ve been out played!
And now your welcome’s been overstayed,
there in my red-dress-fabulous shade!
It's getting late and you should fly-
I bid you, red-dress-fabulous Good-bye!
January 15, 2019
Poem of the Day ~ January 17, 2019
The Play:The Crucible
with Music by:Mastro Astéri Tis Dimofilís Mousikís
and the Thematic Orchestra
Front of House
--------------------
performance, and logistical jargon
from the performer's perspective
repeating a phrase to fill time
Essential stage musician
Upstaged backstage
they sang the new song
then the original cast of singers
looked to them with a sadness
that was visible and bowed to
their successors without a fuss
or argument
When the curtain opened
they had been prepared to
entertain flabbergasted
the delay in the starting of the show
had the audience worried
but when the show began everyone was
flabbergasted
Black Garlic and White Truffle Sauce
"Aint Gonna Waste My Time (loving You)
written by: Diggle Dame Domoss and Tangle Tanner Tissle
of "Do Rite Music Company"
A Media One Music Affliate
‘Mind negates, obscuring’ truth in a thought fog
Being but brazen attempts of our ego
To bemuse and confuse by such ruse, veiling light of God
‘So that under’ cloak of darkness, life an enigma
For worn, weary, wistful humans who’ve had a fistful
Of pain borne of heart’s stain, afraid to let go
Of fears and desires borne of delusion in world of illusion
‘As bound, caged’ and upstaged, soul feels not free
Life game losing by prioritising ‘Me, Mine and I’
Thus feeling remiss being not touched by bliss
06-September-2022
The A's Have It Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
“It (the Self) does not appear to me as virtuous or sinful, as bound or liberated, nor does It appear to me as united or separated. I am free from disease - my form has been extinguished.”
We are eternal, self-existent light,
having no attribute and free from stain,
beyond space-time, suffused with bliss delight,
as vibrant consciousness that wears no chain.
We speak of good and bad as an ego,
dwelling in form, separated from source,
yet here too if all beliefs we let go,
we meld with oneness without use of force.
Viewing all that’s manifest as a dream,
bliss mists within stir and boundaries blur,
wherein when we’re still and thoughts cease to stream,
with God’s pulsations of love we concur.
Unless we are by the ego upstaged,
know that light of Self can never be caged.
Clutching at straws — to be willing to try anything to improve a difficult or unsatisfactory situation, even if it has little chance of success
“And Then He Will Carry Me Away To His Castle, Where We Will Live Happily Ever After.” Snow White from Disney’s Snow White
“Go on, have a bite” Evil Queen from Disney’s Snow White
UPSTAGED
I’m caught in mask, witch-green, a cleansing face.
He hooked his chin in mirror’s reflection.
Instead of me - he sought - his own embrace.
This marriage once a snow-white complexion.
Deciding to wear my wealth of jewels,
my ace high heels, a great big smile, and wink.
I try my bag of tricks from beauty school,
clutching at straws, but he didn’t even blink.
Then he saw me, I’m beautiful once more,
renewed by morning light. His aftershave
a lie - I bite! Left dizzy for encore,
he ends us. His fate’s looking pretty grave.
The magic mirror’s slap upstaged queen’s man.
Knocked into kingdom come— ends princely span.
9/15/2020
Contest - CLUTCHING AT STRAWS
Sponsor - Kai Michael Neumann
howmanysyllables.com used
I imagine one of the reasons we love the Christmas/Holiday season is all the kindness in the air…and how, when we stop to look around, we see magic everywhere.
Our city’s Old Time Christmas parade this year was immediately upstaged…
when our eldest grandson and his girlfriend face-timed us to say they were engaged.
So our step was already a little lighter as we waved to Santa, listened to the bands and played in the Florida snow while bumping into old friends…and a host of people we didn’t know.
All around us we saw a wonderful diversity…we saw children racing ahead with parents running after…our noses were filled with the aroma of Christmas while the streets were filled with laughter.
It wasn’t the most silent of nights…but it was holy…nothing was calm but everything was bright…when we stopped to listen to a children’s choir as they sang Oh Holy Night.
At an Old Time Christmas the Christmas spirit has a way of rising up inside you…
you find yourself saying Merry Christmas to strangers because that’s just what you do.
Deborah said Merry Christmas to a young woman standing next to us and here’s the second reason we’ll forever remember this date…
after repeating Merry Christmas she said, “And I have something to truly celebrate.”
She looked into Deborah’s eyes…then she looked around at me…
before announcing,“I got great news from my doctor today…I am cancer free!”?
She said, “I don’t have any hair left and I don’t care if I look bad…
I put on this old wig so I could celebrate with my husband, Mom and Dad.”
Then Deborah, in a voice emphatic, compassionate and clear said,
“Not only do you look beautiful…but it’s beautiful that you’re here.”
And for the second time in a few hours we were treated to a magical sight….
The first was when and engagement announcement lit up our day…
the second when a young woman’s smile lit up our night.
We said Merry Christmas to each other and walked off to the music of Christmas bells in the background ringing…
both wondering if that was a children’s choir we had heard…
or,
through the magic of Christmas,
the voices of angels singing.
GABLE’S ETERNAL LOVE
Frankly my dear, I don’t give a...
After all, my true love fell with wings!
No twig nor heifer could compare…
This screwball comic welcomed dawn,
dauntless in a restless time of war.
Fatter pockets than a king,
she raised two mill, on a war bond tour.
~ That’s my girl, my wife ~
My darling angel's final performance on earth.
Today, I watch her on screen, often without sound.
~ I know each word by heart ~
I want to see her red lips act,
her silent timing classic.
~ To be or not to be - fate chose ~
I lie my head upon her grave,
Neither Sylvia nor Kay console me.
Carole could not be upstaged.
~ My black and blue, blood so cold ~
1/11/2017
6th Place
Multiple Placements
Sponsor:Broken Wings
Valentine – Form D contest
Dramatic Monologue
Line 1: From movie “Gone With The Wind”
Line 7: “mill” short for million
Line 14: Lombard’s last movie: “To Be Or Not To Be”
Line 16: Wives after Carole Lombard
Behind the parchment screen and eye to eye Punch chided.
Who are you? Who is she? He’d point it out. You’d see.
No marionette with strings was he. Their paths collided;
Judy stands and faces his animosity
The play is writ by man and maid and staged to teach,
the right and wrong of woman’s position, our place.
Standing on two legs, she meets his gaze without speech.
What shenanigan have brought on this crutched lambaste?
Let us ponder Mr. Punchinell’s stance, his missing leg
let his two-eyed profile tease, has Judy been upstaged?
Stumped by the shadow lore, the punch, the audience begs
for the stiff-necked tirade to end her pick engaged.
Speared by humour, we see two realities spar on
with no means to run, the missing third prong’s a pun.
First Published by The Ekphrastic Review