Long Well timed Poems
Long Well timed Poems. Below are the most popular long Well timed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Well timed poems by poem length and keyword.
The feast was over, the diners filled,
When abruptly they keeled over and their innards spilled,
Unto an immaculate floor, courtesy was disabled,
Spewing their filth upon white walls and cluttered tables.
In a sudden realization of what had been done,
They discarded all valuables as they turned to run,
Only to discover the exits to be blocked,
Every crevice, window and door, barred and locked.
Petrified, the befouled guests sought out their charming host,
There He was, glass raised, about to give the evening's toast,
Bellies clutched as they collapsed into a sea of sweat,
Gaping at their frail pale friend, a foe never before had they met.
Weakened murmurs weaved through the majestic hall,
As the terror of recognition descended upon them all,
Then with a last shred of indignation, the Mayor declared:
"What in the bloody hell is going on here?"
"Hell it would seem, is a most appropriate word"
Said the host of the evening in a voice barely heard,
Not one of you have nightmares of the bloody wreckages left behind,
Manipulating and exterminating, all your friendships were well timed,
When I walked into your lives,you drunk deeply of mine,
You took and you took, I cooked and you dined,
But tonight is the night, you will hear the forgotten voices sing;
Of the ghost who hosted the deadliest dinner and made hell's bells ring.
A sprawling sun it's anchor plucks
Drifting anchorless, below the horizon ducks
A canopic relic storing spent day in timeless trust
Well-timed descent bearing the residual thrust
Borne with gilded shades of chardonnay shadowing Helios's lust
A lustful pinwheel of spent angel dust
On flaming angelic wings his smoldering ember doth swagger and sway
Swaying, burnished folds swiveling in neon crust
Swiveled caricature of fleeting, ruddy bust
Smoldering, fleeting climax appended to day's heated fray
Abridging shadows of gray pall the libidinous display
Displaying the deviant beams from Selene's hideaway
Selene casts a melancholy disk her tides to foam
Brokered tidings from Helios's now distant dome
*Image of Walks Warns by Wage.com.
Blues In White
Dressed in white, she looked so refined,
Then I got a text, from who, was undefined,
Message opened eyes, and was well timed,
As I searched the vacuums of my mind,
An emptied cranium is all I would find,
'Tis words to spew as I have an axe to grind,
Of a sordid brief affair where love was blind,
As lies beget lies, for she was one of a kind,
For she had a lover, though she declined,
Says she loved me in soft repeats, to remind,
But at that point, I was far too resigned,
My vagrant mouth said words that maligned,
Every name in the book, for I was unkind,
Then I took a breath, so that I would unwind,
Laid my ring on a book, that was left unsigned,
As she stood by the altar, leaving her behind,
For 'twas our wedding day, I have just outlined.
2019 May 20
*1st Place*
A BRIAN STRAND 1091
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 March 18
Written: May 19, 2025, for contest by Edward Ibeh
Quote: "Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself." By Rumi
*********************
As the seacoast swells, I'm the ticking clock,
Medusa’s buds melt wild in cosmic shock.
Too vast to trace the whisper of my touch,
Once shrieking in the gales I loved too much.
Leverage—a lattice of force spun soft in farms,
A catapult kissed from naiads and their charms.
I rise beyond the sigh of earthbound tale,
Folding time in saffron-sage on silence’s trail.
A crown of hours hides loss's jagged edge,
Each tear a fulcrum, each star a silver wedge.
Leverage: the sly magician’s unseen hand,
Lifting fate’s beast with a wand’s command.
Crawling on bone, I trade a dream for a wink,
An alchemist stirs fear in jasmine-gold ink.
Weight turns to promise in twilight’s brief peace—
A cog sonata in a galaxy’s creased crease.
Life glows as ember script, footnoted and odd,
A whispered nudge in thunder, kissed by God.
One key turns inequity into a lyrical code—
Leverage: the hidden root of the common node.
With empathy, patience, and a poet’s dash,
A cracked cup tilts, still spills its splash.
The braid unwinds when a thread is pulled—
And so the days dissolve, and the dark is lulled.
The wrong key turns, but never fits the lock,
A defiant glance becomes a harboring heart’s dock.
A single word, well-timed, redirects the climb,
A fulcrum set beneath the weight of rhyme.
Leverage, not force, moves all without loss,
Find fulcrum in chaos—smile wry at the dross.
Though bent toward stillness, the shift draws near,
Where regret finds voice, resentment clears.
A single seed, pressed into fractured earth,
By unseen hands, the coiled land finds rebirth.
One life uplifted by a lever’s quiet grace,
World seeks levers to lift my breathless space.
I noticed just yesterday
while glowering about something else
now already
once again
forgotten...
I seem to have lost my good-sensed humor
along my stumbling
isolating internal say
Toward this red STOP! sign
searching for a different way
To find a new Earth center
for healing active hope,
To sing new scales of joyful
sad sharp focus
Performed more locally
and possibly reformed less reflectively
mesmerized by fame's monopolistic grope.
This new reselective time
Less silently reserved
Less anxiously depressed
Less repressively suppressed.
Each morning's dawn warning
to worship at new altars
Renewing robust octaves of communion
encompassing organic green nutrition
To redesign all creatures here below
more positive above
good-humored love
with timeless passions
hilariously sensed together
yet tragically shoved
apart.
If I were not so sweet sixteen
prepared to restart home's immigration scene
again for my first time,
what would I rechoose to do
becoming compassion's singing rally
with rainbow hearted allies?
If I were thirty-three,
my age of messianic crossfire
for all to red angry
horrifying see,
what would I choose to resurrect again?
And why would this revoiced
rechoiced healthier community
support potentiating integrity
with more robust good humor
this well-timed passed over
and back around
on sacred wellbeing
more interfaith
as multiculturally safe
and healthy ground?
If I were twice
my god's reflective age
revived,
what would we joyously choose
to re-member
as half-life good golden sense
for revolving salvation's climate humor?
For this tragic comedy
of tumorous migration
anxiously anticipating
integrity's full ZeroScores
restoring just right species
may not be mine
next time back around
multiculturing herstory
All together one predation
praying for exterior relations
more integral summations
than humorless,
silent rumorless
quiet aging absence
of eternal sad-paced
barely surviving mercy
At least sufficient for noticing,
just yesteryear
while glowering about something else
now already strange sadly *****
once again forgotten.
PUPS LAND ON MOON ~ Nursery Rhyme
Two little pups called Sam and Sue
Wanted adventure, to try something new,
Why don’t we go to the moon,
They had seen it in a cartoon
Lets go today,
But its so far away,
Jumped into their dad’s spaceship
Its moon or bust, what a trip.
They saw strange things floating outside,
All part of their ride
We are landing said Sam
Fasten your seat belt Sue, wham!
They stepped outside, first pups
To land on moon,
Reporters would write very soon.
Wow a space mobile,
Sam the man took the wheel,
They collected rocks and sand
To take back to Earth land,
Sue started crying, I’m scared,
I want my mummy she blared.
Back on the spaceship they climbed
So well timed,
They arrived with a bump
And a loud thump!
Their mummy and daddy gave them a hug,
And dad gave Sam’s ear a tug.
Don’t ever do that in a hurry
Again, you had us in such a flurry,
They were sorry and promised to be good,
And slept as two pups should,
Mum put on their night light,
Kissed them, and tucked them in tight!
Contest entry : Nursery Rhyme Contest
Sponsor; Eve Roper
Date: 2021/03/09
I’m too young and too happy
according to my ‘infectious agents’ professor
and is he ever wrong?
Four of us pressurized med-school freshmen
(Chloé, Emma, Léah, and I) who have become
fast friends, were twisted together in a seated circle,
laughing, cutting up and sharing our deepest thoughts
as the TAs handed back several quizzes that had been
slowly and torturously graded over the past month.
Isn’t it bad enough that studies have reordered us,
and made our days and nights as one?
Must we also wear our spirits low? We cannot.
Humor is our gentle requital
Laughter is the impossibility powerful sound
that slays worry and common sense
That educated man may spend his authority as he wishes
but well-timed delights can’t always be scheduled.
.
.
Songs for this:
Me & You by HONNE
Jamirobeegees Mashup by Pomplamoose
.
.
He said "you're too young and too happy" with a twinkly smile
but I treated it seriously in this poem. ??
Don't count your days, make your days count for lost time is never again found.
If you want to see rainbows don't stare at the ground.
When everyone else walks out a friend will be first to walk in.
One finds a true treasure when one finds a true friend.
One ounce of Mother equals one pound of clergy.
Her love and concern will lessen your worry.
A teacher is paid to teach us to make a living but we learn how to live at home.
Teach a child honor and good common sense and he'll make you proud when he's grown.
It's better to attempt to do something and fail,
Than attempt to do nothing and prevail.
If God is your partner make big plans,
For when God is your partner the future is grand.
If your lips would keep from slips five things observe with care,
To Whom you speak, Of Whom you speak and How and When and Where.
Don't expect your kids to listen to your advice and ignore your example.
The way that you live gives ample example.
Life is what happens while your making other plans.
Be wise and prepare so through storms you can stand.
When opportunity knocks by some uncanny quirk,
It oft goes unrecognized it so resembles work.
Actions speak louder than words, it's true.
Though they doubt what you say folks believe what you do.
Well timed silence is more eloquent than words.
Folks who talk too much often go unheard.
If you keep your mouth shut you won't be misquoted.
The dog who barks the most is the one on the shortest chain.
We are prepared for great deeds by great trials.
What shouldn't be heard by little ears shouldn't be said by big mouths.
God's people are not without trial, nor are they without their God amid the trial.
Though Time is something we've devised,
Time's hold on us can't be revised.
While Time has time to spend at will,
We question Time when we distill
It into time spent ill or well.
It's just perception - time will tell.
Time can play games within our head,
It's Time we love - and Time we dread.
Time gives us time to think things through,
What to reject - what to pursue.
And, timeliness keeps Time involved -
Sufficient time gets things resolved.
True, Time can grant a host of things -
Good times that well-timed planning brings.
And, timely words - remember when?
Just simple truths, time and again.
Time can expand our views to see
The benefits of what might be.
But, Time can proffer problems too -
With time to kill what should we do?
Time can befriend untimely ways
That dissipate our time-bound days.
Yet, Time won't dwell on what we chose,
Time ventures on - not in repose.
When Time slips by, or fails to wait,
It's Time we tend to castigate.
Despite the time we set aside
Time only serves to be our guide.
Still, Time can help us do our share
As Time goes by with time to spare.
But, Time moves on at its own rate
Unmoved by time to contemplate.
If we take time to stop and look,
Time travels past the time we took.
Yes, Time is always on the run -
Time won't stand still - for anyone.
We wanted to break bread
that was pure, clean, pristine,
stark white and wholesome,
with a crisp, but soft,
light brown crust.
The field was prepared with
thrice washed and cleaned machinery,
and spread with N, P, K fertilizer
applied overhead.
The soils was filtered to remove
all weeds, sticks and stones,
stubble and rubble,
so it was homogeneous,
with a uniform grain size,
The wheat seed was a proven,
ancient old world genotype,
with its genome still intact.
The seed was milled to remove
all traces of wheat germ and bran,
then twice bleached to stark white.
The dough was leavened with soda
and baked well-timed,
in a clean fan-draft oven,
at just the right temperature,
for just the right time.
Behold! There we have it!
Our pure white bread,
wholesome and perfect,
in every way, that we break
for breakfast at break of day.