Long Whiled Poems
Long Whiled Poems. Below are the most popular long Whiled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Whiled poems by poem length and keyword.
Unorthodox nonestablismentarian epitome
Describes celibate bent aegis.
Mein kampf illustrates gravitas.
Underdog muted lest intimidation
think bully brandishing fist in my face
threatening to buzzfeed me
a brassy knuckle sandwich.
While breezily reading Judy Bloom,
(whose material geared
toward young adult)
book titled Blubber - published in 1974,
(which year found yours truly - me
undergoing amazing transition
classified as puberty)
bemoaned childhood's end - id est mine
interestingly enough romanticized boyhood
livingsocial within Lake Woebegone
(way before Garrison Keillor
named said fictitious town),
purely swiftly tailored
harried styled fabrication,
although that first decade
found torturous growing up years
more so courtesy
self exclusion from reindeer games,
thus during lunch or recess
(two most favorite classes)
bullies turned me into minced meat
taunted and teased
a severely socially withdrawn boy,
who never shared emotional agony,
he internalized verbal slings and arrows
eventually physically succumbed
from brickbats indiscriminately
lobbed at painfully shy
once upon a time happy go lucky lad,
(with a button nose),
when he whiled away days of his life
as the world turned
first at Lantern Lane
for about a half dozen plus years,
then at 324 Level Road
for approximately
one third of present existence
unbeknownst to him
that psychologically dark shadows
lurked within the outer limits
of the twilight zone
haunting corporeal essence
attached to those lovely bones,
now saddled with excess adipose tissue,
especially around belly of the beast
housing hunger artist
starving for knowledge,
and peopling his overactive imagination
with exemplary protagonists
blithely thwarting incendiary threats,
cuz of natural born defense against
gunning character assassination
courtesy fearsome imbeciles
hell bent on nasty, short and brutish fiends,
who did their collective bidding
vis-à-vis cut throat leviathan,
who overshadowed and locked in
propensity to live free and clear
analogous to unfettered noble savage
cannibalizing yours truly (me) as fancy feast.
Soul asylum salvation sought
as if survivor of mental health challenges
akin to foreigner trying
to sidestep gingerly self annihilation.
When shall I ever be well?
Like yesterday again?
Today which is so gross?
Or tomorrow which brings remorse?
I remember how time whiled
And the wind blew lyrically with your sighs
And the tune of how your voice rise
Oh! I forgot all otherwise
Out here in the dew
Out here with a brew
In the room
Under the moon
All I feel is you
Nothing more, but you
I remember all of you
And forgot all of others
Because you are more and they are few
Love, isn't it?
Yes! Love it is called
That single comprehensive word
Heavier than the whole world
What do I feel?
How do I know
Like a touch of snow
Like the rainbow bestowed
We have walked the streets
And held hands all over
We have sat side by side
And discussed all the earth hath
Good bye!
To you, to us
I just want to say goodbye
To everything we have been
I still can't forget all I've seen
Heard, said and done
But goodbye to our love that was
I still loved you like yesterday
And surely tomorrow I will again
But goodbye to our days
Goodbye to our era
An era that's been
I watch in silence
Very helpless
As time while away with suspense
And the clock ticked off in pretence
O! How can I say
How much I wish our era will stay
That beautiful alluring face
Which makes the whole world at you gaze
And that fascinating smile
Enchanting my heart to run thousand miles
And the deep black eyes
Fashioned with a tinsel scarf
Unforgettable is that skin of yours, with its incomparable tan
Which could enchant any man
Today, here again, I point out my arm
But there is none to clasp my palm
An emptiness dominated my heart on your departure
Even though the wind, the moon, the sun, and the leaves do assure
That over there, out on a beach, like I do all nights through, you are watching my face on stars
And trying to heal from my heart all the scars
Don't long, don't pine, for what is forever yours (me)
Because someday, I will come, and become again a part of your world
Then forever, pray, that I be your reward
And for eternity you will own my love
Schlerotic schlemiel schleps...
Into lonely senescence -
three plus decades already elapsed
trepidation, hesitation unbearably
tugging, shouldering,
remonstrating accumulation
of "baggage" thumb
of right hand thrust out
silently raving, quaking
cursing ultimatum parents
(soffit to fascia in)
saw fit to fashion
and hammer home
red hot poker rage
their singular male offspring
middle child of two sisters,
who long since vacated premises
when both young naifs
prior to attaining age of consent
deploring bing holed up
at 324 Level Road redoubt
built as summer house
remote from fracas of urban bedlam
still fifty years since Leipers
bon voyage into netherland
father and mother
imposed swiftly tailored
harried styled tough love
translated meant absolute zero value
toward offspring they begot,
and made quite clear loathing
heaped upon sundered fountainhead
good for nothing son of a...,
he whittled away precious time
reading avast among trove of material
crowdsourcing numerous bookshelves
mostly to impress intellectual visitors,
when in truth middle aged couple
thinly veiled country bumpkins,
donned with "FAKE" literacy
stereotypical "rednecks,"
inexplicably begot wunderkind
agog with inhaling literature
in tandem with liberal
magazines and newspapers
oft times whiled away countless hours
sunup to sundown
sequestered most remote nook
within local library
few miles walk along country road
served as self taught schooling
since parochial educated regimen
habitually rapped knuckles
courtesy whiplike hickory stick
if pupil evinced slightest
distraction, whence schoolmaster
detected lack of attention
as crotchety curmudgeon
blankly droned monotonously
dull jabbering subjected
stone faced classmates
into instant soporific state
futilely struggling to keep eyelids
slamming shut tight
including yours truly,
who when suddenly awake
realized quite a vivid dream!
Within the quiet morning hours,
Beneath the ticking of the clock,
An old man whiled away the time,
And reminisced of days forgot
His face was worn from many years,
Although his eyes seemed still unchanged;
Like leather were his heavy hands,
Wrapped tight about his gnarled cane
A fire roared inside the hearth,
Though from his window snow fell fast;
‘Too fast to shovel now’, he thought,
As he peered through the speckled glass
And with the thought there came a fear,
For he knew there was no one home
To aid him when the snow appeared
Too deep to venture on his own
‘Soon there won’t be a soul in sight,
Save but for mine, though I’ll go too
And meet the endless sea of white,
Lest my own house becomes my tomb’
But as the old man tried to stand,
He found his strength begin to wane;
He fiercely pushed with both his hands,
But could not rise to meet his cane
In panic now, he cursed aloud
For all the years he’d sat and slept
Upon the chair that kept him down,
For now it pained him ‘til he wept
The fire below began to die,
As embers glowed and turned to black,
While outside snow began to rise,
Now filling every nook and crack
‘It isn’t fair!’ the old man cried,
As he tried desperately to stand;
An idle life of sitting by
Had finally caught up to him
‘I should have left when I still could;
I should have overcame my fear;
But now no gentle hand will ease
The passing of my spirit here’
Thus, as the morning hours grew late,
His labored groans grew faint and stopped;
His feeble home encased in snow,
Beneath the ticking of the clock.
A funny thing happened on the way to my house.
Another balmy spring evening whiled away in the park,
Swinging through examination blues and unrequited crushes.
Those rocky teenage years!
Homeward-bound, my best friend and I,
Via avenues bowered by cherry blossom in the prime of life.
Tranquil thoughts and cheerful chatter.
Dusk was falling.
Suddenly conversation was curtailed.
A twinge of anxiety.
Panic over, the crawling car advanced up the road.
And stopped! Window down this time!
It waited for us to pass then resumed its creeping tempo.
The tension rose. We picked up pace.
There it was again, the menacing vehicle,
awaiting our approach.
No words exchanged but a fleeting glance
triggered the alarm;
A grotesque appearance repelled the eye.
Decision made. At the nearest house we rang the bell
And explained our anxiety.
Our liberator ushered us into the lounge,
Where a sea of eccentricity greeted us.
The doorbell rang. It was him!
Behind us the latch clicked firmly closed.
We stood face to face with our ‘pursuer’.
And then the penny dropped.
He had been checking the house numbers
Simply wanting to locate the address
Of the fancy dress party.
Our ‘good Samaritan offered us a drink.
We sheepishly declined,
eyes lowered, faces reddened.
We made our excuses
And laughed all the way home!
Empty
A hammock swings to and fro in the wind
As if propelled by an unseen foot.
A tricycle lies abandoned by the porch,
One handle grip with its multicolored
Streamers long gone, a wheel missing,
Its once-resplendent pink paint eaten with rust.
The “For Sale” is old. It sways tipsily,
Tilting in the wind, covered in graffiti.
Where is the little girl who used to play
In this lonely and forsaken yard?
Where is the boy who whiled away the hours
Reading and dreaming in the hammock?
Where is the mother who tended these gardens,
Now full of weeds, and the father whose children
Greeted him joyfully at the end of the day?
What calamitous series of disasters
Befell this family, to force them out,
To make them leave the home they loved?
Maybe they sleep now in cheap motels and
Eat their frugal meal at a breakfast bar
Or live in a noisy, overcrowded shelter.
Or do they move from place to place,
Rootless, living in a car, dreaming of that
Joy-filled home they left behind, a lifetime ago?
The staring house now stands bereft,
Bewildered, wondering - where is the family that
Once lived and loved inside its empty shell?
It seems to wait in loneliness, pining for
Those happier days of oh, so long ago,
While the hammock swings to and fro in the wind.
Sea the wight-capped waives rolling inn the see;
here the howling wynds, wile I’m standing hear,
whale and forme hi waives. Theirs eh jumping wail-
tale upp inn the ayre! This should make gneiss tail
two tel wen eye get holm. Butt now theirs too
blew wales inn wiaves- there water spouts just blue!
Whether getting worse, kneed two sea weather
it's my thyme too lieve since wynd now blows it’s
grate, whiled sounds awl across the see, witch great
allowed and shriek. Could bee, I’m knot aloud
write hear two stay- dew knot want gnus too right,
“Sum man fell inn the see and payed the some
witch cost his life from storms angry whiled which.”
Week legs mite make mi sync and fall; eh weak
wood pass before they fined mi with eh would
bored inn my grippe from roe boat beet and board
bye waives and whild wynds that kame and flue buy.
Eye no, its thyme too lieve, cum back wen aye
cee com, and eye can stay eh wile two sea
wails jump inn waives without the wynd’s whiled whales.
April 7, 2015
~2nd Place~
Contest: Only Homo’s Allowed
Sponsor: Jerry T. Curtis
Judged: 04/30/2015
(Homophones)
A blanket laying, book-reading, lemonade sipper
turns a page
There is a ghost of sadness in this place
shared madness, despair and rage
Somewhere in the sandy and dreaded dune
convicted breath feels as warm as the month of June
She feels the depression that once enveloped
a once upon a time, mild-mannered man’s illness
Now there is only stillness and something
in the Saugatuck breeze that feels like a gasp
Old scribbles on his walls of silence
seemed, or once was deemed prophetic
“I was wasted just like today was”
a mother’s son whiled away the time
Too forsaken and forgotten to find rhyme
abbreviated sighs and another day’s tally mark
For him, fate…
the future came much too late
The unholy hole handed a mother’s son the shivers
Her lemonade is coldly soothing
sour moments taken in without regrets
Moving her toes in the warm sands once tread
by a man with invasive demons in his head
It is oddly unclear what once happened here.
She turns another page long after he could have.
loving sister
I write to you as a writer
know you are in school
Because you are still a big fool
Your being wise
wholly lies
On your book
that you should keenly look
open every page sister
read every text sister
Get that wisdom
Embrace that wisdom.
sister write every word
paint every picture
for those words
that picture
pictures your future
so don't sleep
for you might slip.
it is now 7 months
in your form three
I check at my wrist
my watch is ticking
click by click
time is whiled away
sister use every chance
exploit every minute
for you are worth
living this earth.
I have to say
that day
u got the accident
I realized you are a light
to several hearts
embrace that and shine
For you are a true NDHINE
you are the MARVELOUS GRIFFINS
Realize your potential
for you are exponential....
come next year
I want to praise you dear
I want to hear the people calling out
I want to hear the world shout
I want to see your parents Marvel
For they gave birth to Marvelous Marvelous.
May you live long and shine bright like white.
Most intimate entries written upon blank pages;
a confessional within them releasing emotions to a forgiving Lord. Quote _ by Poet
I write upon a blank page of my diary,
Loving warm desires neath the umbrella
Whiled honeyed rain fell all around;
Looked into hungry eyes.
Perched and drenched on a tree bough a red robin spied
On quenched by a rainstorm of French kisses.
Our brief dates were short, realizing he misses
Being together. I do sneak outside;
A feeling of warm butterflies
Excites fluttering round,
Didn't attempt to deny desire for my fella.
My hand rests on my recorded story.
I listen to please music notes get me teary,
Dancing round feeling like Cinderella
With my fella, a love I've found.
Sleepy romantic skies
Look down upon me, my diary alongside,
Till the balmy night's quintessence ceases.
1/31/2021
My Invented Form - I Write Upon Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
abcdef fedcba abcdef
12/10/8/6/12/10 syllable lines each stanza