Long Wacky Poems
Long Wacky Poems. Below are the most popular long Wacky by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wacky poems by poem length and keyword.
Once upon a donkey’s back,
as I rode I heard a quack.
Donkey worriedly shook his head.
“It’s a duck!” he brayed with dread.
I was surprised and could not speak.
Why would docile Donkey shriek?
Duck was not a fearsome foe.
Why did Donkey fear him so?
“Donkey,” I asked, “why do you fear?
Duck is merely following us here.”
“I don’t wish Duck to be so near.
His intent to me is not clear.”
“If Duck desires to ride with us,
I’m sure you won’t put up a fuss.”
But Donkey quickened up his pace
with a dark frown on his face.
I pleaded Donkey to slow down.
“Duck only wants a ride to town.”
His response was plain insane.
“Duck intends to pull my mane!”
So we refused poor Duck a ride.
My deep concern I could not hide.
I looked in wonder at Donkey,
his wacky fear a bit wonky.
In the middle of deep dark woods
Beneath the clumsy, capricious clouds
A wacky, wiggly passage leads
To a captivating, carious ground
There dwells a divine dreamy Datura
Brewing, in the lap of her beaming aroma
A bowl of nifty, nefarious nectar
Whose magical scent I smelt in Abyssinia
Pour one drop of it in your soul and soon___
You will get teleported__ to river Reena of the moon
Celestial fantastic flies hovering you
Until you are inebriated by the Reena's liquor__Maroon
# ________________________________#
P.S: Datura is a flowering plant also known as Moon flower.
(The lap of Datura is aroma, and the nector is brewed there...
Reena's liquor is Maroon in colour)
(~Paghunda Zahid... 2020 - 08- 19)
Small stadium built in the late forties,
minor-league once, but has been left behind,
built with girders and backless, wooden seats,
a local relic of an older time.
The players look so young, barely can shave,
the pitching is rough and some balls are dropped,
a few have been drafted by big league names,
one has promise, at ninety-four was clocked.
Young kids run around, and between innings
some do wacky races upon the field,
but have fun even if they’re not ‘winning,’
and the high-fives from the players are real.
So far not a hit has yet cleared the wall,
but six bucks is still good for live baseball.
Isn’t she so cute??Isn’t she so sweet??Wow, she’s a muse—charming, fragrant but fragile as a rose.
She’s so quirky, a little crazy, and it shows.?Wow, she’s wonderful,?But Beware, She will knock you off your toes. ?The manic pixie dream girl— darkly delicious, untouchable and free. But let me tell you a secret,?since that girl is me. ?Manic pixie dream girls aren’t fun.?They’re flawed.?Not whimsy—just wacky. They’re not tragically beautiful, they’re just filled with trauma, pain, and tragedy.
I thought it was a strength,?but maybe I’m just manic.?“Jump off a building?”?“Yes. I have wings.” The crazy stuff that sends our loved ones panic.?Forever keeping their core in pain,?forever ignoring our own brain.
Manic pixie dream girls aren’t cute,?they’re psychotic. ?Laughing as I fall like Icarus,?like a phoenix,?like a pair of wings will bloom mid-air,?like the earth isn’t waiting?with teeth to apart, me tear.
And then the crash.?And it’s nothing. Nothingness. Nothing less. ?Not even adrenaline clears the cloud,?the hum— the low steady drumming from a far. ?Booming thunder, crashing, burning into stars.
This burning isn’t holy.?It doesn’t feel divine.?It feels like the earth is shredding,?like an internal quake,?like internal harm.?Like I’m made of broken pieces?wrapped tight in alarm.
And there it is—the hunger comes,?needing the rush again.?Feed it fast,?starve it slow,?just to see it bend.
Feminine Icarus, blazing through the sky,?thinking she could evolve into the sun—
something greater, something immortal.?But now she just smolders,?silent,?unraveled all around. Feels like sinking, spiraling, like an airplane on fire spinning to the ground. Like a grenade tossed and then found.
Manic pixie dream girls aren’t sweet.?They’re exhausted.? They’re exhausting. They’re in pain.? Intense feelings of guilt and shame. They may even make you feel the same.
They’re convinced they can fly—? until let’s go, the sky.
About the poem: She’s not the spark in your movie—she’s the storm you didn’t see coming. Manic, messy, and mesmerizing, she’s crashing through the illusion of cute. This poem explores what it’s like for the girl in the trope and crashing the illusion, by dragging the reader through a manic and crash cycle with no cute package or safe landing.
I wanted to build a skylight in my place.
My friends thought it was spurious.
So I went and built it anyway.
Now the neighbors above me are furious.
I got a dog a few months ago,
but he doesn't want to play.
I guess that can be a problem
when your dog's name is Stay.
I tried to draw my shadow once
but it really was tough doing.
I decided to give up after awhile
because my arm kept moving.
Some folks say I speak too softly.
They're kinda hard to please.
I say if you can't hear me,
it's 'cause I'm in parentheses.
I met a man from Japan today.
He greeted me with a bow.
He asked if I knew what time it was.
I said yes, but not right now.
I put tape on the mirrors of my house.
It's not something I usually mention.
I do it because I don't want to walk
accidentally into another dimension.
I have a plan for my future,
and I'm sure it won't cause friction.
When I die, I'm going to leave
my body to science fiction.
Sometimes, when I'm in a good mood,
I'll relax and drink some liquor;
then I'll open a window, look up,
and smile for a satellite picture.
Last night, I was on the bus
and met the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen.
She said she liked Jewish cowboys;
I said Hello, I'm Bucky Goldstein.
I went into an antique store.
It has great potential.
I bought a really old typewriter.
It only types in pencil.
I went into a bank today.
The decor was sublime.
A sign said 24 hour banking,
but I don't have that much time.
This story is a strange one.
Of that I have no doubt.
My neighbor has a circular driveway.
He just can't get out.
Hearts torn & twisted --- All left to rot
The hate swarming & flooding rapes me inside
I wish to wake up in a hospital sometimes on a sexy nurse's cot
Burns & swells with adultery he committed that sinful night --- absolutely bled my pride!
Like splitting a pole, or demolishing a tree, inside reciting over & over in me
Our baby not even a year old yet --- he left us for no reason at all
Finally as far as I could see --- was nothing but hatred & water surrounding in this sea
Forgiving & Forgetting is what he expects me to do --- but how can I fix us from this fall?
Everything he's given to me at that point in my life was a lie
I noticed after a while he lost the ambition to move forward with us
But why wouldn't he explain to me where he thought it was I wouldn't try?
After 3 weeks of separation (that almost turned legal) he finally realized who to trust
He came home one night & tried to reclaim his family again
I told him I wasn't interested that if he left once, he'd definitely leave twice
He cried for 3 days (estimating at best) until he determined a way for all 3 of us to win
Our tax refund for 2011 (as we filed married together) was way more suitable than 'nice'
He came up with this wacky plan where we'd take all the money, our family, and run
Somewhere to the beach (East Coast) we both agreed could possibly be the spot
So, Myrtle Beach, South Carolina is where we both agreed we could be with our sun
& still when I look back a few months I saw where we were then --- & it's changed a lot
Deciding to mend our marriage was a difficult and hard decision to make with a baby
But stepping aside from the anger, hurt, & rage, we knew we could possibly get thru it
So we stayed together for our family, ourselves, our love & thought, "..well maybe.."
Bright Myrtle Beach where neither of us know anyone, is where our 1st candle will be lit
Walks on the beaches, bright sunsets over the ocean, & raising our son together
Finding new & interesting jobs, meeting people, even when happiness is about
Tinkered with love and sparkled with ups and downs, our love forever endeavors
For now this we've decided is, as of now, our one & only best route
On peeping through the aperture inside the old oak tree
I gasped with wonder to behold the vision that awaited me
For deep inside three fairies slept their delicate wings like lace
To attest their actuality a childhood dream I would embrace
When I was young, a wee small child, sometimes naughty, sometimes wild
I searched in all the nooks and crannies, seeking fairies, so beguiled
I came across a barren meadow; an ancient oak was growing there
The tree became a favourite haunt, enthralling every daily jaunt
I remember telling grownups of the fairies deep inside my tree
They laughed aloud, this silly child, who dared display temerity
I often sketched or made up songs about my childhood saga
Searching for fairies constantly, whilst eating Italian frittata
A child no longer I still reflect upon their negativity
Accused of telling fairy tales displaying such proclivity
Imagination running wild and full of positivity
I did see fairies every day, their nuance their transparency
Now looking back the gift I had was wacky and unique
They said I must stop lying and of fairies never speak
Feeling honoured for this gift, so deep within my marrow
I celebrate my childhood visions, dismissing minds so narrow
And now each day I watch them play around my old oak tree
As they perform a show for me, displaying their fragility
Each night they fly high in the sky, with silver gossamer wings
Like twinkling stars in a moonlit sky, tugging at my heartstrings
Written 29th October 2018
For Eight Word Challenge 9 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
4th placement
Contest Strand Choice H
Sponsor Brian Strand
HONORABLE MENTION
We Americans are very creative when it comes to conquering malaise,
By founding specific times in which to celebrate any wacky craze!
Legal holidays are well established and we honor Father and Mother,
But each day, week or month we lionize some silly thing or other!
There's a "National Bubba Day" and "Check Your Batteries Day."
There's a "Poem In Your Pocket Day" and a "Clerihew Day."
A "Dump Your 'Significant Jerk' Week" and "National Rabbit Week."
A "National Scoop The Poop Week" and a "Cockoo Dancing Week."
I'm thrilled to know about "I'm Not Going To Take It Anymore Week."
For the pudding aficionado there's a "Bread Pudding Exchange Week."
I can appreciate "Hug Your Cat Day" but not "Appreciate A Dragon Day."
I will eagerly celebrate "Eat What You Want Day" and "Act Happy Day."
There's even a "Middle Name Pride Day" and "Upsy Daisy Day!"
I can forego "National Go Barefoot Day" and "National Licorice Day."
'Twould be well for all to observe "Be Kind To Humankind Week!"
There also happens to be an "Elvis Week" and "Cookie Cutter Week."
Church attendance seems to rise during "Bingo Month" in December.
Dog lovers, be aware of "Responsible Dog Ownership Month" in September.
I pray your life has been edified by all of this meaningless information,
But I felt it my obligation to further enhance your education!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
peppy porcelain puppy poops on the floor
wacky winged walrus whizzes on the door
enigmatic eonian elephant espies some bamboo
clever castrated cormorant shrieks yahoo
brassiere-busting bonobo barfs on the table
maniacal mystic monkey freaks on cable
sly sonambulent sloth bear slumbers in his cave
natty naughty nutty newt nests in a wave
dizzy ditzy doormouse dances with a broomstick
tawdry turgid tiger toys with his joystick
rugged recondite raccoon races up rut-marred roads
finicky febrile frog farts on frightened toads
this sonnet celebrates sassiness midst sundry incantations
~ surrenders to insanity and scoffs at punctuation
they say that
the traveling carnival
will visit our town soon
whether the weather
has been lately
somehow filled with gloom
and I'm just lurking
by the railway tracks
waiting for the ghostly train
and feel in my bones
that something wicked
is on it's sinister way
buy the ticket,
take the ride!
shout the jolly jesters
through danse macabre
balloons and darts
to the house of wacky waxworks
the imaginarium
lures everyone in
to explore the forbidden
fantasies of lust
with unknown consequences
something's just wrong
with this carnival of rust
what about the somber freakshow
the panopticon
the maze of terrors
thrills and spills
skeletal knife throwers
bizarre exhibitions
dark amusements
or a carousel that kills
beware the carnivores
of the eerie carnival
don't go there when it arrives
beware the devilish attractions
don't believe
the bait of fun times