Long Whined Poems
Long Whined Poems. Below are the most popular long Whined by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Whined poems by poem length and keyword.
I smiled when the world was ended. I pretended not to care.
I thought it only fair you see, to suffer such indignity with some restraint.
You may think it easy, but it ain’t.
I recall when they were small, young and just reborn. They looked so forlorn,
and sad, as babies do; and not as bad or half as sad, as when they grew.
The world I gave them was a gift, I toiled long and hard to make.
I hoped they would appreciate it, if only for their sake.
I shaped it with my breath so well, with painted hue of green and blue.
Palate colors you could smell, a feast of colored stew.
I spiced it up; variety in every cup. I added sensuous texture too;
with every touch and taste I knew. And it was such a marvelous toy
made for each one’s joy. I gave it freely to them all, for all their earthly pleasure.
Gave to each free will whose call, was greatest of my treasure.
Theirs to do with what they will, to savor and renew.
They took it like a bitter pill, and did not have a clue.
As child is often wont to do they stomped their feet and whined and cried.
They took my gift and mangled it and stepped upon my pride.
They were so young and foolish then, with no respect and little care.
No surprise evoked me when, they laid my gift so bare.
They made it dirty with their soil, polluted water-well and air.
For every ounce my ceaseless toil, gave me pounds for my despair.
I watched in horror as they fought, blood for blood and eye for eye.
Thinking I should stop I thought, take free will; for lest they die.
But, I relented in restraint, and left them to their sad devices.
Stepped back and let them have their way, to see them solve their crises.
But they, alas, could not see far, and plodded down the long wrong road.
Destruction, hatred, savage war; all manifests of evil flowed
In the end the gift I gave, lay in ruins at my feet.
unhonored to a man’s last grave, destroyed by their defeat.
So I will start again my task, rebuild with loving care and pride,
and if upon their birth they ask, what shall we do with this great gift so wide.
I’ll say what every loving parent says, “free will” means life is yours…so you decide.
One day I hope that all my children see, my gift so rare is meant to set them free.
The earth is theirs to do with what they may. It could be heaven, they have but, to say.
A single star upon the blue
Jet streaks from charcoal to white
Pale pink breaks the horizon's line
Crickets and doves sing delight
Dove's have an echo some of the time
Roosters crow unanswered
Changing the horizon to rosa wine
Interspersed coyotoes whined
The spider checks his web, repairs
There's no breakfast for him
A long night's hunger unfulfilled
As morn's star slowly dims
Its light superceded by the sun
As the sun rises to greater heights
And the sun paints the canvas grand
Colors wonderful, just right
Amazing how the paint can change
What once was charcoal gray
Now is an awesome pink, what was
White, now gray, touched this day
I can't go away untouched, changed
This morn uplifted me
I can never view this earth again
Without thinking of Thee
What a beautiful sunrise
It has changed once again
Only to be captured upon my mind
Maybe not even then
IRIS...IRIS
You're a Virus!
I hate your crying
And abhor your whining!
We made a Choo-Choo
You cried blue
When I squeezed your shoulders
To make you bolder!
You whined, "Nooo!"
Halting my show!
IRIS...IRIS...
You're a TYRANT!
I did my best to toughen you up
But, you spilled "all the milk" in your paper cup
When you cried out the single word "No!"
Now, who on earth, would ever know
You boxed me OUT - cold like Tyson
On life's cityscape ring in the world's horizon!
Oh, yes...you did...Iris..Iris!
You SURE did make an Iris..Iris
Out of ME
Forever a tyrant, I shall deem you be....
~ Grandfather's Clock ~
My old grandfather had a clock
It wasn’t a grandfather clock
A clock it was that went tick tock
It sent me mad grandfather’s clock
Till once I hit it with a wok
But it was steady as a rock
And then it laughed and said cuckoo
A little bird went out and in
It said cuckoo bee bow and boo
Then I took aim and threw my shoe
It ran in fast and closed the door
Of old grandfather’s cuckoo clock
I had enough of all its cheek
I had it planned to glue its beak
So then I sat on wooden floor
And waited there, looked at the clock
Grandfather’s clock that went tick tock
I sat there long and fell asleep
Then I woke up and had a peep
Grandfather’s clock was under shock
It was tongue tied, not one tick tock
It hung in silence on the wall
There were no echoes in the hall
How strange it felt now that the clock
Had lost its voice, no tick no tock
The little bird made not a sound
No sortie out, no bee no boo
I missed that tiny red cuckoo.
Like a spoilt brat I'd moaned and whined
The way I acted was unkind!
Then I sat down, felt bad inside
I was ashamed. I cried and cried!
As my tears fell I heard tick tock
The friendly sound of grandpa's clock
To cap it all the red bird flew
out of the door and said cuckoo!
---------------------------------------------
Contest: Childrens Story, Dr. Seuss Style
Sponsor: Casarah Nance aided by Abigail
I longed to hear cute costumed kids
say “Trick or Treat!” that chilly night.
To give each one a goody bag
would make me smile with pure delight.
Because of Covid, few came by.
My little Bandit’s friendly bark
and wagging tail delighted all~~
but then the evening lost its spark.
When all kids left, a red-eyed “ghoul”
appeared. My puppy whined and fled.
I froze. Then on November 1
I woke up screaming in my bed.
My pup—not black, but solid white—
was back. My hair was snow-white too.
When I tell others what transpired,
they think I’m bonkers. Well, don’t YOU?!
October 23, 2022
entered in the 12-16 Lines of Scary Halloween Rhyme Poetry Contest
Placed 1st
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Travel once on a haunted train,
a taste may make you lose your mind;
Railroad tracks leave the world behind
dismantled boxcars keep rolling;
Phantom mouths continue screaming,
they show you tickets that were signed;
Pure horror here is well defined,
you’ll visit with those who were slain;
Now you feel even more confined,
travel once on a haunted train;
Take the seat that you were assigned
surely they’ll be no arguing;
When a covered scab starts bleeding
don’t pick at it like you’re inclined;
You’ll visit with those who were slain,
to their curse pain is intertwined;
Get there early or they’re unkind,
a disturbing ride you will find;
Travel once on a haunted train
get lost in the way it’s moving;
Spontaneous can be soothing
you’ll visit with those who were slain;
The Dining car feels so refined,
relax the ghosts are on the grind;
Disobey? Idle hands they’ll bind,
probably should never have whined;
Restless spirits sit there waiting;
Travel once on a haunted train,
you’ll visit with those who were slain;
It’s real the nightmare is growing,
by the end you’ll be undermined;
It doesn’t matter if you’re kind;
Conducted by a mastermind
evil has now become streamlined;
Old clock ticks it becomes chilling
you’ll visit with those who were slain;
Travel once on a haunted train,
where they lived you’re now exploring;
Not really knowing how they died
only pieces have been outlined;
Racing down a track that’s unlined;
The length of this trip? Never mind;
You’ll visit with those who were slain,
strange feelings have you believing;
Your heart won’t ever stop racing,
travel once on a haunted train;
High anxiety undefined
for any relief victims pined;
Purity will become maligned
you’ll visit with those who were slain;
They were just trying to unwind,
surely safe where they were going;
Never thinking about running
to the obvious they were blind;
Travel once on a haunted train
see the dark nature of mankind;
You’ll visit with those who were slain
sitting back in a chair reclined
listen closely to tales enshrined;
As long as you keen on sharing
there will never be an ending;
Fallacy and the truth combined,
curious how we were designed;
Travel once on a haunted train.
It was easy to know…
An ever ready hug
A sticky candied kiss
A sweet clinginess
Eyes full of admiration
Songs full of love
A call for help meant only for one
Arms outstretched always wanting
It was easy to know
It was easy to show…
A wake up call to a favorite breakfast
A new frilly dress
Special occasion celebration
Treat upon treats
A longed for whined for gift delivered
Story time snuggles
Game time giddiness
Attention undivided
Every little need provided
It was easy to show
Yes, it was easy to know she loved me
Yes, it was easy to show I loved her
My daughter, my life
It was easy to know....easy to show
Why is it so hard now?
Refocusing on present realities
New forms
New expressions
New words
I struggle to find new ways
The old ones are worn out
All that’s left now is doubt
It’s hard to show…
It’s hard to know…
Am I still valued in her eyes?
Why does the passage of time make it so hard?
Why?
Isn’t love timeless?
Eileen Manassian
I saw a poet looking gray and down,
So, I asked him, what was the matter?
He whined he wasn’t being read, there
was little, if any chatter.
A poet writes, yes, but should not expect
a big brass band.
He was flustered with me, I could see,
and broke the pencil in his hand.
Keep a list of those who comment,
be sure you do reciprocate at their
poetry gate!
I don’t know if he heard me, his skin
became quite ashen.
He told me of sad experiences where
other poets took great joy in nasty
character bashin’!
A tear rolled down his hot cheeks and
I said “welcome to the world.”
Write on, like a warrior, your head high,
And your poetry flag,forever unfurled.
For God sees each poem you create.
After all, twas He who gave you the
gift to write at all,mate!
He knows quite well of your pain.
What’s more He sees your great
progress and gains!
3/9/2023
Bugger
17th July 2015
Last night my missus gave me some oysters for tea
Was I in for a night of rip snorting whoopee?
I showered and shaved trying to smell like a stud
Her half dozen oysters must have all of been duds.
Things were desperate so I engaged in foreplay
What old men do when they want a roll in the hay
I groveled I pleaded, even whined like a dog
But for all of my efforts all I got was a snog.
So should she ever give me a little blue pill
I now know it sure won’t be for an evening of thrill.
Her response
So you’re disappointed
That all you got was just a snog
How about make an effort
Stop smelling like grog
I don’t care for begging,
And sexual wee stirrings
Have a shave and a shower,
That'll start me concurring.
Now take your hand off my breast,
Just help me cook the kids tea
Grab the vacuum, do the house,
That’ll be enough foreplay for me
Hang out the washing,
Then feed the pets.
Do homework with the kids
Please now go make the beds,
Scrub all the pots,
Make sure you do the lids
Thank you my dear,
Your help was just great,
It's nice just not to nag
What! What do you mean?
You’re too tired for a shag?
28th September
Silent One's Competition
In response to my first poem
Ho, Giant! ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
I have built me a bean-stalk into your sky!
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ I came,—I put
Here my knee, there my foot,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ up, from shoot to shoot—
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ the mischief all the time,
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ rocking, spinning,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ dizzy, sunny circle,
¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ above the cackle
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ I was born in,
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ little dirty city
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ sheer and sunny
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ dazzling bright and pretty
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
In a dream of finding money—
What a wind! ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ tiny, shiny city,
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ shot a glance below,
Shaken with a giddy laughter,
Sick ¦¦¦ blissfully afraid,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ dew-drop on a blade,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ moments after
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ guess I made,—
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ wind ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ whip
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ past my icy ears,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ hair stood out behind,
¦¦¦ my eyes were full of tears,
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
More tears than they could hold,
¦¦¦ wind was blowing ¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ in ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
Dry and grinning,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ felt my foot slip,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ scratched the wind and whined,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ clutched the stalk ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ eyes shut ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
What a wind! What a wind!
Your ¦¦¦¦¦ sky, Giant,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ shelf of a cupboard;
¦¦¦ make bean-stalks, ¦¦¦
¦¦¦ builder, like yourself,
¦¦¦ bean-stalks is my trade,
¦¦¦ couldn't make a shelf,
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
Now, a bean-stalk is more pliant—
La, what a climb!
(Blackout of The Bean-Stalk by Edna St Vincent Millay)