Long Weirder Poems
Long Weirder Poems. Below are the most popular long Weirder by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Weirder poems by poem length and keyword.
...If this was Heaven, it made little sense,
would not they get newcomers all the time?
How could this seem so bizarre to their mind?
Wouldn’t this have to have happened to them?
I just sighed loud and shook my head again,
but at that time a red-headed man came,
folks parted for him, and cried out his name,
like he was some hero they looked up to,
I just looked at him, not sure what he’d do,
but I somehow sensed that we were the same.
“When they spoke the words, I didn’t believe,
but here you are, good Lord, it’s been so long,
I’d say eight decades have now come and gone,
since I showed up and they had to receive
an earth-born soul, they just couldn’t conceive…
Took John here fifteen years to understand
that there could be another type of man,
so please, take my hand, and I will explain,
the truth of Heaven that boggles the brain,
but in the end is quite sublime and grand.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of this guy,
he seemed quite different then everyone else,
it was something in his eyes, I could tell.
In the other folks I could see no lies,
but in Philippe saw something I realized,
the hardness of a soul who had seen sin,
who had known evil, and fought it within,
a familiar look, one that I knew well,
I figured I should hear what he might tell,
so I stood and agreed to follow him.
He waved me over to a tavern small,
we paced towards it, the others close behind,
as if just seeing me shattered their minds,
most of them stopping outside the front wall,
nobody followed us inside at all.
Inside I saw a barkeep cleaning things,
not all that strange, except the man had wings,
an angel bartender…okay, why not?
Already Heaven was weirder than I thought,
Philippe cried, “Ras, you up for explaining?”
The angel turned, and his broad face lit up,
“Is that what I think it is?”he inquired.
I was uncertain what might transpire,
until Ras poured some beer, filled up a cup.
Said, “Up here, we only have the good stuff.
Forgive me, I’m rusty, it’s been a bit
Since an earth-born came, and Philippe was it,
most of your kind are scattered ‘round elsewhere,
so many Heaven-born, your sort are rare,
but I can help you make sense of all this.”
CONTINUES IN PART III.
His eyes were green but no one noticed
Even though he was the only green-eye in the room.
His hair was red, but so were all of ours
We are McCormicks so it makes sense right?
The thing we were all noticing was his beard
The base appeared to be popsicle sticks and globs of glue.
Is it hard? Someone asked. He nodded furiously.
Is it a contest? Another relative interjected.
His brother came in wearing a similar beard
But with Barbie and Ken dolls glued on it
Their heads going in different directions.
Weird and weirder I thought.
Until their mother came in.
She had the ultimate beard.
She had interwoven a skull
And put in blinking eyes.
Since it was not my family reunion
I kept my mouth shut
Especially as my girlfriend
Was irritated now
She thought she was going
to win with orange witch
beard with the hissing black cat.
Do you remember that young guy called Sandy, the lad who was always predicting the future? Joe said he died a couple of days ago. The guys were joking, he didn’t predict that.
The guys would be wrong then.
What do you mean?
I met Sandy a couple of months ago when I was visiting Mum.
The guys did mention he spent a lot of time up at the graveyard, but I don’t quite get what you mean, did he say something to you?
Yes, he told me a lot of things.
Did he, Casey, what sort of things?
Things, like you had an affair when you found out I couldn't have children.
I was hoping you would never find that out, I regretted it.
I know you did, Sandy told me that too.
Was that why he was talking to you?
No, he stopped to congratulate me on my pregnancy.
Oh god, Casey, that must have been awful.
It was a bit weird, but even weirder when he told me about the procedure the doctors would do whilst the baby was still in my womb.
God, that must have freaked you out, no wonder they said he was nuts.
He also told me that Mum did leave me money, it was in shares, and I’ve not to sell them till next year. The company is being taken over, and the shares will double in price.
You don’t believe all that nonsense, do you?
I didn’t till two days ago, the day he told me he would die.
What, so he killed himself then?
No, he had an underlying health problem the doctors told him didn’t exist. I spoke to his mum yesterday, and she confirmed it.
Jesus, that is tough.
It is tough, but you haven’t asked me the question yet.
I want to ask you the question, I just don’t know if I have the right to.
When I heard Sandy had died, I went out and bought a pregnancy test.
Did you do the test?
I did.
God, you know I’m not good at this, Casey, give me a hint.
You should paint the spare room pink.
What, we’re having a baby. Hold on, we’re having a girl, does the pregnancy test tell you that too?
No dopey.
Okay, I bow to the superior being. Did Sandy say what we should do next?
Well, I’m going to the doctor in the afternoon, would you like to come with me?
You’re damn tooting I’m coming, I’m not letting you out of my sight. I’m also thinking, maybe.
That would be a nice gesture.
I haven’t said anything, Casey.
Sandy would be a lovely name for our little girl.
O Camelot! O Camelot!
The winds have changed, the land got hot!
Though dromedaries are quite neat,
A bactrian's hard to unseat,
And so the knights still joust a lot.
At banquet feasts, the men are found,
And like the table, they are round.
The reason they are heavy-set:
Girls now see knighthood as a threat;
Who lives life chaste and honor-bound?
Sir Galahad, a handsy lad;
His boasting made the maidens mad.
Now saddled with the cursed #metoo,
Chivalrous days of riding through,
He gardens, in his armor clad.
And then there is Sir Lancelot
Sad, as he aged, he weirder got.
Exchanging quests for lowly toils,
He traveled far just lancing boils,
Relieving pustulence and rot.
And Arthur lost what he held dear:
His lovely bride, his Guinevere
The evil witch, Morgana Fay
Transitioned her without her say,
And as a knight she does appear.
O Camelot! I just cannot
Believe the damage time has wrought.
And now the lady of the lake:
A charlatan, a fraud, a fake!
Ran off with Merlin, on his yacht.
She came in all sassy and wanted to drive a school bus.
We told her our school is unusual and she said that is fine.
We have witches, warlocks, gargoyles, a ghost name of Gus.
She said my kin are weirder than that, they can get out of line.
So, we offered her a temporary position as driver that day.
She arrived at work an hour early, a quarter ‘til two.
The students gave her no guff, and they stopped their wild play.
For she was right about her kin, she knew just what to do.
She was magical, and she did not hesitate to turn them into frogs.
Sometimes when they got off the bus they were barking dogs.
Their parents thought it was hilarious and respected her sass.
She even turned one badly behaving student into a pink ass.
Spring forms changed.
Jasmine limps.
Corn plaques shirred.
Shore is without breeze now.
I didn't grasp my own home!
Public blame current flow.
Pulse spurred over the dome.
Soft breeze fades in midst snow.
They're saying its spring glom!
I'm getting weirder every minute.
Pulse can't yield to my chest and calm down!
At once, the ocean is turbulent.
Lonesome went to sit on barren mound.
I gaze out to the long horizon.
When will the spring ship arrive in port?
Only then will the high tides slow down?
Tonight is a full moon! Oh, my dream
Weakened, returned with shattered vision.
Written: July 01, 2021
The clever current galaxy is cock-eyed, surreal, and night is day.
2020 has been weirder than weird, almost everyone has had to pay.
If the internet went out forever, I would not greet it with surprise.
We are all romping on the sand of beaches, ignoring crazy skies.
At least the masks and the shields have been put up on a shelf.
We are returning to a bit of normal, Christmas will bring an elf.
Today I am relaxing at the ocean, with my family, having a fine time.
Being the grandma gives me a chance to get silly on white wine.
Hey Grandma! My six-year-old granddaughter says, “Look at the sun!”
Not to worry, I tell her. Build a sand castle and have some real fun!
I want these last days to be the best we can ever have, for a reason.
Climate change prevalent, I wonder if we will have another season.
The backdrop to the Atlantic Ocean is usually a lovely lithe light blue.
We have a galaxy in our sky, and it looks completely cockeyed too.
My granddaughter does not leave, so I say. Go have fun. Hurry!
I want her to love the ocean, make a memory without any kind of worry.
Life has its ups and downs, wins and losses:
that's the nature of the games people play.
We all strive to be one of the bosses:
and yet, fate seldom seems to work that way.
The games begin before we learn to speak,
fun ones, like believing in Santa Claus.
Amongst the many, that game was unique:
and still, some question what its purpose was.
Games introduce us to lies in disguise:
dulling the trauma of being deceived.
To win, one must learn how to improvise:
reality is weirder than perceived.
We play innumerable games of chance:
cunningly crafted, as games of romance.
WHAT IF?
Alone with my thoughts on a thoughtful day; just thinking
I thought of many things but one thing keeps replaying; what if?
What if there is more to life than just being meaning and meaningless to people?
I attend church to be saved; what if church can’t save me?
I heard a lot about heaven and hell; what if I don’t see any when I die?
What if things can never get better? There is no hope hoping
What if beneath all this smiling faces hides terrible wickedness?
What if beneath the love offered lays a potential hatred?
Ashes to ashes; what if there is no need working so hard as all will fade away?
Some things don’t seem right; what if nothing was ever right?
We ask for another chance; what if we don’t get the chance to ask for another chance?
What if things can never be normal? They just keep getting weird and weirder
We can only see what we want to see; what if what we see isn’t what we seek?
We constantly hope for a change; what if the change we hope for never comes?
Always seeking for the truth; what if the truth we seek is uglier than the lie we know?
So many what ifs to think about, what if I don’t think of any what if?
Lordvip
October, 2013.
OF ROY AND PINCH BANDITS
Claims Roy one day
to have been approached
by an angel of GOD
alleges the said angel
brought him news
news that he would pass to glory
complete with day and time...
Come the day... Roy
arranges meeting with cece..
.. his beloved siz..
Roy unable to confess..to cece..
the truth.. bout his departure
ROY goes to university next..
bids friends goodbye...
Roy goes to a stall
buys daughter five tuna fish cans..
a parting gift from a loving ROY...
Roy boards shuttle..
Roy sits next to lovely..
very lovely ladies....
Roy never one to let a pretty girl
escape untalked... says hello
girl snobs ROY.. Roy knows his end is near
decides to say last prayers..
asks GOD to send someone .. to deliver
the tuna to daughter..and his love regards
ROY is snatched sudden by deep sleep..
waves and waves of it.. ROY surrenders..
zones out.. awoken by a sharp mosquito bite..
..or is it butterfly.. looks everywhere..
lovely girl gives him a weird look..
shuttle conductor gives him a weirder look..
waves and waves of sleep swallow ROY..
Awoken by sharp bites.. many of them....
wakes.. now every ones.. giving sweet Roy..
very weird looks.. Swallowed by waves again..
bites starts... ROY keeps eyes closed.. twitching..
half asleep half awake.. distance laughs
more bites and more bites..twitching..
shuttle has reached.. ROY surprised he..
he still lives.. ROY tries to alight...
legs give way under him..
steadies himself then walks home..
ROY arrived home minus three cans of tuna..
with huge bumps to prove them biting...
after relating to us the story..
every ones burst... with stitches of laugh..
teasing ROY to death..OH... hes just met
the famous pinch bandits... Oh oh oh..
the pinch bandits
pretty girls they are
they way lay celebrities
who are too exhausted to
open their eyes.. pinch them
pinch them and again pinch mm..
and ROY day was finally come..home
Lewis K Nyaga
0239 eastafrican maritime