Long Whittled Poems
Long Whittled Poems. Below are the most popular long Whittled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Whittled poems by poem length and keyword.
A Man
What defines a man?
Is it what he accomplishes in life?
Is it how much money he makes?
You are the epitome of nothing whittled down to a fine point!
You give honest, good men, a bad name.
Is it the fact that you don`t own up to your responsibilities?
Or could it be that you are a compulsive, habitual liar?
Or just a copulation of everything that you have done?
Or not done.
The good, bad and the ugly.
Why such harsh words, you ask?
Because you have let down, lied to, ignored, and totally denied the existence of an innocent child.
Who asked for none of your ********.
MAN-UP!!
This was Originally posted June 11, 2009, since ??
Mirror
mirror
on the wall,
the pre decided fairest of all
When I utter fiancé ,
Did you see all kinds of fees incurred?
When I utter Feodor
Fees and beyond?
And a lightyear and a “buraq”
With fifty turned five…
Did you witness Mosay bargained for you only
Never cared for me there
For a malar rash try?
So, black heads remover, do not be nosey
Happen in the adjacent vicinity
A science fair and phonetic verona
No black hole entry...
Too much in a day for a simple queue
For failed process of elimination (POE)
In an idiom try.
Even though whittled down, nothing more than a noise walls
For a city control (ctrl).
I have heard of its thousand stories of lure,
It's stinking songs of allurement,
It's many stripes apportioned an earnest fatality.
Yet it's wave of effectiveness I overlooked.
Till it knocked the doors of my cabin with sounds i dread.
Unprepared i was, my arms far from reach.
I had whittled down my guarded battalion.
So naked I stood, helpless to it's smile of victory.
As I held back the shameful tears of unawareness,
It carefully strolled my path without an invite.
Swallowing all I have labored meticulously for.
O that matchless glory I have labored to attain,
Caught in its web my eyes are lifted high to behold.
Dime after dime it sliced my bowels without mercy.
It stole all I had as it nipped the patience of my soul.
I am found crawling the ends of a wretched existence.
Scavenging like an indispensable beggar to life.
Without worth, lacking the thought of possession.
Left to contend with impecuniousness, penury, so impoverish.
I sought solace in a beginning I still longed to re-venture.
But it's wrath tore me into pieces I'm yet to gather.
So stung to my soul, caged in body and mind.
To thee poverty I beckon with a humbled spirit.
Give to me wealth's sound of speech,
Freedom for a depressed soul to soar.
To climb to the heights of heaven forth the while.
for my grieve is weak and smile not,
and my pain has lost its melody.
Let my shine rise to sparkle bright.
Relieve me, I pray the from thy wrath of death,
For carefully I seek thy mercies with tears.
Seems so surreal...billions of beings
held in place by invisible forces
atop a giant spinning orb
dependent on the charity of
mother bird's star warmth.
It's a golden time for Earth and mankind
conceiving and evolving, creating
mastering fantastic things.
Flying machines and curing diseases.
Searching for the key to the speed of light.
Unwinding the helix-dreaming in spacetime.
Ego, as an algae bloom, enters the gilded room.
Disturbing the divine and pure nature of things.
Warring and serial raping...rinse and repeat.
Mankind so volatile, so violent, so unkind.
Careening toward another mass extinction.
The beginning and ending deeply set in scripture.
Trimmed and encrypted, whittled down to imperfection.
With an ungodly amount of editing in between.
No wonder mankind seems detached and indifferent.
Mother bird star warmth will remain.
Long after the golden tide of mankind subsides.
She'll pulse her warmth to the next icy orb...
Hopeful that grace will finally overcome ego.
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!
a tsunami catapulted cruising skiff
skyward landing with quiet thud
across undulating infinite granular waves
formerly solid state rocks and minerals
optimism vibrant upon initial unforeseen
crash asper for test dummies
foundered as undertow fostered diminishing hope
initial faith for survival quickly ebbed
nsync with retreating tidal wave
pessimism dreamt fantastical holograms
farther from beached berth
immediately transformed into quicksand,
while off in the distance
a glimmering chimera
(the first of many) appeared
amidst the desert sands one mirage
after another falsely broken promise
buoyed drained salvation
quick decision decreed each man for himself
thus disseminating banded bruited "brothers"
condemnation, damnation, excoriation, fulmination
hurled at cosmic creator thwarting intercession
dehydration, exhaustion, ingratiation, jubilation
foretold merciless portentous demise
witheringly desiccating lovely bones of mine
no doubt raw elements of nature wrought
fate worse than death sans, cabin "mates"
lost among expanse of whittled quartz
across chronometer measuring millions of years
now subjecting one measly mortal i.e. me
to cruel unforgiving, unrelenting,
unwelcoming petty coated junction
blistering hot wind obliterated
fellow travelers convoy deeply
within diabolical dunes
eternally erased doom
awaited for 21st century explorers
to discover scattered wreckage
both beast of burden, outrigged contrivance
and starry trekkers, who vanished without a trace
a handful of scrappy rapscallion existences
blotted (like ink, oil, or other liquid sponged),
where subsequent seasons
of wicked bewitched slow torture
akin to being raked over hot coals
exception made for this interminable sufferer
at the whim of sadistic
persona non grata evil spirit
n'er obliterating diehard survivor instinct
a foreigner to yours truly
but atavistic primitive fight or flight
witnessed relieved whence absently blinking
this life married to indiscriminate
clamped, harried, styled devilishness
evaporated in thin air
upon tentatively opening myopic brown eyes
horror, twas boot a dream.
Rad mad hatter batter approach
Kiwi coach who Key did poach
It seems he is beyond reproach
When it really matters in tatters
Castle clatters Ashes hope shatters
Our guys bowling pies on platters
Memes scatter legacies splatters
Egos not heroes BazBull flatters
The urn won’t return with the Mac
Yearn but burn totally out off whack
Concern can’t learn not got the knack
Brendon a torn forlorn tendon on the rack
But will still earn a packet deserves a smack
Bitten not smitten his racket of cricket crack
Wouldn't change tack and deserves the sack
The hack pack giving him a stack of flak
Finally a step back from just all out attack
Too little too late the recurring soundtrack
Whittled & skittled fate well we were cack
Drunk monkeys just sunk spunky flunkies
Lack guts gumption gusto were so slack
The lies spool pulls over our eyes the wool
Must backtrack no crackerjack comeback
Debunk the funk & gist of narcissist gunk junkies
Cool over old school fool rule of Baz (load of ) Bull
Time these harlots & charlatans brought Test best back
on the waning edge of day
sunset rolls white clouds to pink and amber strands
sifting back and forth like a quilt's overlay of color
a sprawling vista
unstoppable
the quiet glide between hope and trepidation
bended sky to quell settling light
in gold, pink clouds
quill thin, like tangled trails of choice
these warm stretches of glow
drifting
into scattershot lives
sunset whittled back
as night cuts the canvas
remaking itself
ethereal
into the the soft weave of another darkness
strapped to another day
Poem composed April 1st/2023
A memory is like a rock in the river
The longer it drifts the smaller it gets
Possibly distorted by the waves
Like a memory over the course of time
It gets whittled down and fades
And eventually you wonder if you just made it up
But perhaps the idea is greater than truth
To say we need the idea is perhaps an understatement
To cling to some ancient ideals
The way a man might cling to a fading memory
Even as it drifts down the river being whittled away
Perhaps then that rock is something more
Not just a memory or something to cling to
But a living embodiment of all we stood for
Perhaps the rock drifting down the river
Slowly being whittled away by the rushing water
Is the rock we call the American Dream
And the longer it drifts down the river
The more the American Dream gets whittled away
We start to wonder if it was ever truly there
Or if it was ever what we truly stood for
Perhaps it was merely a grand illusion
A facade in memory that we repeated enough
Thinking that through repetition a lie becomes a truth
That, no, there was an American Dream
An American dream we fought desperately to save
That the consternation we suddenly felt would fade over time
And we'd all go back to holding hands
And dancing through the river with joined arms
Singing about the good old days
Because over time the memory became smaller
It faded as it traveled through the river
And we replaced the missing pieces with prettied lies
For when that rock finally settles on dry land
It's not the same pretty rock we all saw in our minds
It's an ugly and pathetic little thing ravaged by time
Ravaged by the river of people who sullied it
Though it was never righteous to begin with
The American Dream is simply that, a dream
It's something we sleep with at night to keep us cozy
To help us get through the harsh reality
That much like the ugly rock that went through the river
Our nation has become that very rock
We're painting America with pretty lies
Because the truth is ugly
Perhaps the lie is greater than truth
And eventually wonder if the truth was ever a truth
As it got whittled down over time and faded
Like a memory over the course of time
Definitely distorted by waves
The longer it drifted the smaller it got
The American Dream is a fading rock in the river
Beaming sculpture whittled by awning clouds over blue sea
Ethereal beauty tinged in brown, green and yellow shea
Aerial bliss, flaunting on leaves-sunkissed
Under and over my wings, I breathe your scented mist
Talons I sprawl, your branches I grip
Yonder sanctuary, your soothing shield I trip
Amongst beauties of nature, your heights majestic
Narwhals of blue seas, unicorns of Atlantic
Dying depths of roots underlying masses so cryptic
Marshes of hidden paradise, your abode of beauty
Attached is madness of ethnic humanity
Desecrating pristine ages of dreamt forest
Nesting on mantels, burning unrest
Eaves of succulent leaves, carved barks and branches
Streaming on saps and man's cold blood
Sweet and sour blend of beauty and madness