Long Whirred Poems
Long Whirred Poems. Below are the most popular long Whirred by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Whirred poems by poem length and keyword.
Suddenly frisson aye describe...,
I suddenly feel scared
As told once upon time helloo
from me matt chew
most previous poem ugh goo,
viz freak accident found ninety
degree angled desk corner (ewe
might not bull heave)
rammed, impaled, fricasseed
smack dab skew
whirred spitting out
fluid on rotisserie
preparatory for stew
right side rib cage
quite agonizing boo boo
intermittent pain analogous
to dull stabbing
finds yours truly nsync with moo
wing cow word le lion hoo
ping to schedule medical appointment
come thee morrow,
this klutz he did brew,
or maybe ghastly conspiracy
courtesy Spiro Agnew
hmm... possibly global warming
ha... puff... imagine dragon
retracting dagger type,
claws, and opening jaws of steel
eyeing thyself as main course on menu
damning self, aye packed
especially when standing askew
(hunched over tying laces re: shoe)
struck by poison arrow unleashed
no Inca ling how
indigenous people of Peru
found their way linkedin
with this Yahoo,
he swiftly strayed
outside Gulliver's travels
into good n plenti boulevard
of broken dreams
essentially, one direction avenue
mixed within gibberish goulash stew
wing conglomeration
trumped courtesy "fake" parvenue
he haint goat noah idea nary a blues clue
for aforementioned stream
of consciousness and drew
whatever came to his mind - toodle loo.
Adieu... from mister MaGoo
Very aware that there is a fair share of fellows
Fan flames burning elan maims with bellows
Whom dare to pose not care about their woes
Laid bare rhymes snared wild meadows mows
Us yearning for poetic melody of mellow cellos
Despair that their attitude is almost bellicose
Foes nightmare lair where I do come to blows
Heir to pair Keats & Byron but no they chose
Rhymeless charmless fayre that's just prose
Heard when occurred then poetry blurred
Pedantic herd frantic semantic antic deferred
Each cranny & nook has a canny hook if stirred
Spurred absurd word flair whirred seeds sows
Glows with those lingo bingo bows it bestows
Grows rare nerd rows 4 hip hop bros & hoes
Pros purred knows highs & lows all about flows
Stuffing buffing nothing blows anything goes
Non stop trip hip hop drop or flip to ship of grime
Prime chime every time it's an on a dime rhyme
Fops chop chop Pop's top crop lets rip does climb
No crime saga like an aga..mime or lager and lime
Sublime he crows every single poet’s holistic pastime
Artistic don let the lexicon just mingle the paradigm
This linguistic shingle gives you a lovely wee tingle
Sod twee odd bods going ballistic poems must rhyme!
Tell us of folks with conscience clear on terror; of trusted neo
terrorists that oust teams, terrorizing thousands... near, far, and wide
May it marinate in their minds; peace and equality are as grated rind
with scent of pure zing... unlike vexed souls, bent on terrorism
Just last night, amid day light, before photographer's sky, right in
spring's warmth... such unforgiving moment of sudden fright
Thunderous wondrous sounds of bombs whirred, then cease, and
just like that came sight of flight 8430, blown to fallen pieces of debris
I saw red, white, and blue of American airlines's plane, meshed with chaos
just as those blown to smithereens during 9ll... Still I'll fly. Why shouldn't I?
In this land of plenty, we won't share cowardice with tyrants of immorality;
not on their watch! freedom bell has rung for everyone free of contentions
"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." (... they knew not...)
Flight 8430 felt Coup DE main... not of You, Great God of earth, sky, and dew
I shan't forget humongous, booming sounds of invisible bombs that flew and
flung sudden terror so near, i hastened with thoughts of Islam and coercion
Of intimidation, degradation, castration; of trepidation, and mutilation
that moved me to see martyrdom in terrorism as ignoble affiliations
I'm due like you to sit snug and breathe with ease here and now, without
quest; will I survive or will I have time to utter one final goodbye
Night's stream of consciousness was dream, dear God, but Your world need You...
only You; by power of Your might, turn terror to unadulterated thanksgiving; so
As we ponder canvas of sky with eyes beyond clouds; we'll grace life with
courage; for we shall over come with hope, with aims, and with our dreams.
*
Knower of truth visited not the church,
for he was worn weary
of sermons leaving heart in lurch
by words dreary.
He was not an atheist since he knew
truth of soul’s existence,
feeling bliss beats within renew;
love’s insistence.
Rebel, a nerd, he followed not the herd,
aligning with God’s light
that glowed within as chakras whirred,
by day and night.
21-December-2022
Constance La France Zip, Zig, Zag, Zing form
Rhyme pattern: abab, cdcd, efef
syllable pattern: 10, 6, 8, 4 in each stanza
Standing in my kitchen, wearily washing breakfast's congealed dishes
Dreaming desperately of dredging up a dinner delightful and delicious
Late winter's wan rays of sunlight weaving their way through living room blinds
Weakly warming the chill hovel I'd rented since being orphaned in 1989...
Startlingly, a creak, then a tear-stained moan from somewhere behind me
A window opened, blinds parted, a breeze started: delusion--or eerie tragedy?
Whirling around, stifling a cry, I watched in wonder, wanting only to know
What this weeping and wailing thing was, whooshing its way to and fro
And wherefore invisible, as the wind whirred ever faster and faster
Would it cut me down, or would I manage to outlast her?
When of a sudden, I saw it, an apparition, sure and clear
What on earth was my father's ghost, his wavering image, doing here?
A spectral mouth, jabbering jaws, skeletal face bearing the telltale scars
Of my departed father's journey through a universe bereft of planets,
suns or stars
He spoke, this spook; he called my name: "Help me, please, my son.
Ask Him for His pardon; to undo the wrongs I've done."
I shrank from the image, my father's ghost, in pure terror
Surely it had returned to Earth by means of delusional error
I shrieked and hid my face, praying for the wretched thing to leave my place
Whereupon, abruptly, the image faded, whisked back in time
by the Devil's Grace...
The mind's imagination ranges
Far beyond mere celestial zones
Chilling mere human essences
to the marrow of their bones
September 20, 2018
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Scary or Spooky Poem Contest
Written: May 31st, 2025, For contest: By Joseph May
********************
"The stars beckoned her song to reach the crescent moon."
A sonata spun in silver, diaphanous and light.
Carried by a midnight zephyr, an ambrosian tune,
Wriggling across the hushed empyreal night.
The moon, a velvety candle leaning up close,
Its smile was crescent-shaped and wide.
As echoes of her whispered melodies arose,
Riding a cosmic tide to carry them and slide.
The galaxies whirred their soporific refrain,
While celestial orbs danced in airy delight.
Her voice—a gossamer yarn in a monolithic domain,
Weaving melodies into the katabatic night.
Comets gyrated in glowing grace,
Dawdling garlands of smoldering flight.
With each glimmer, a vanishing trace,
A symphony streaked through the cyan night.
Nebulae blossomed in iridescent opal and gold,
Winks of wispy silver in twinkling glow.
Milky opals flowed in a zaffre, wispy fold,
Akin to jewels in tinselled rhapsodic flow.
The solar zephyr in a capricious swirl,
Canorous choirs filigreed, jewelled, in twilight.
Stars wove lyrical whispers on a weathered whirl,
Of songs nestling on a dogwood, a serene site.
Dawn rippled with refrains of silver melodic show,
A nymphic choir in June twilight, lilac—katydid.
Ripple as an aeolian harp in topaz of heat glow,
endless oracles, sighs of aches, lullaby—did.
I reminisce, I miss
the sound of our giggles as we lay -
my sisters and I – on our beds
whispering into those sweltering summer nights
until inevitably, my stepdad
yelled up the stairs at us to go to sleep!
I would put my face right up to the fan
which loudly whirred inside the window
at the foot of my bed.
Those were the nights of easy sleep
and easy dreams.
Little was my stress; large was my joy.
And oh, those summer days
when we awoke to no more school.
My siblings and I rode bikes around town,
or sometimes we walked miles -
while sucking on popsicles - to the city pool
where we’d splash around carefree all afternoon.
Friends also monopolized my adolescent life.
Oh, those fun slumber parties
at which no one ever seemed to slumber!
Games, the music of our time,
and chit-chat about boys consumed us
late into the night.
Picnic reunions with church folks or with relatives:
always the sight, smell and taste of homemade meals
I recall: the wonderful homemade potato salads,
fried chicken, burgers and hot dogs on the grill,
Mom’s homemade Sunday pot roast with mashed potatoes . . .
I could go on forever.
But back to the night I go -
of those hot but lovely summer firefly nights
where sleep and dreams came easy
I reminisce, I miss.
March 28, 2021
for the contest of James Edward Lee Sr.
Now for A Brian Strand July 8 Poetry Contest
The impatient motorist,
drunken and careless, drove
through the red light
and stroke a pedestrian
sending him five feet in the air;
then crashed into a concrete wall,
to commit suicide...
that's why he died!
The drug-addict shot up cocaine
with a dirty needle...in a filthy,
abandoned store on the avenue;
his acute pain was relieved instantly;
he rejoiced for a few moments,
them his red and semi-conscious eyes
slowly began to close and he turned blue...
that's why he died!
The police car chased four robbers
in a stolen car...shots were fired,
and gess who got shot?
The wounded policeman
called for help,but blood
gushed from his dizzy head;
the thieves fled on foot...
to a hut in the parking lot!
The sirens' lights whirred...
they were sourrounded,
but didn't surrender to pleads;
they kept on firing their cheap guns,
they came out challenging,
attempting another ascape,
but they were mortally hit...
that's why they died!
The tripping hooker
in a leather miniskirt,
hustled the motorist
stopped at a crossing light;
she made an offer,
the car door opened
and she hopped in without fret!
By the murky river,
where the streets are empty and dark,
her lifeless body was found;
wasn't safety haunting her foolish mind?...
That's why she died!
The homeless man
begged the passerbys
who usually complied;
nickels,quaters and dimes glittered
in his small coffee cup...
money to be spent on beer,
food and cigarettes...
without having a place to go!
Winter was brute and covered
his frozen eyes with snow...
that's why he died!
The smelly dude with torn clothes walked
in a huge save-a-dollar-store...
with the bad intention he had premeditated;
he had no job: a loser and a destitute...
the wailing owner of the store,
pulled out his rifle and shot him twice!
The leaping robber dropped down...
holding a bloody,sharp knife:
grasping for breath,but found none...
that's why he died!
What seems now old
Used to be utterly new
What was previously told
We cease to over chew
*****
All that is old hold a treasure
If only we all knew
Just weigh and measure
Under the veil a unique hue
*****
Out of memories we grow
Been taught lessons to the bone
We do reap all that we sow
And for wrongdoing we atone
*****
Pleasure and pain what we gain
In a life not taken for granted
Who can stop time or rinse rain
Or suppress anger that should be vented
*****
Life will continue to hurt and heal
Vomit its villains to mould the meek
Send its saints to instill ardency and zeal
Never always the ones at the wheel
*****
Deeply inside my prayers I recite
To always endurance and faith embrace
Be human of worth, decent and upright
And paths that stain never retrace
*****
A great depth of gratitude to God we owe
For both strength and forbearance
For age that vigorously flow
And for the gift of Love in abundance
*****
An abiding passion for her Majesty the word
Delving into my smile and feel would draw
The music of heart in verse softly whirred
My poetic human soul imbued with awe.
At the flea market I found you
Old and dusty.....but so nice
You`ve been so helpful and wise
Whirred around and around with your wheels
Many meters and perhaps miles
Much joy and money saved
Maybe even earned a penny or two
Tired eyes and hands treated you good
Far into the night, you`ve worked
The wheel spun around and around
Never fail, always available
ready for new tasks
Yes, I found you at the flea market
With a little soap and water
you are as good as new
Grandma`s sewing machine is so fine
Now you are decoration in my living room
22. August 2012
A-L Andresen :)
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