Long Whiz Poems

Long Whiz Poems. Below are the most popular long Whiz by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Whiz poems by poem length and keyword.


Not Quite Me

Despite a lovely day with friends,
To catch up with a meal
And a gift of potted daffodils
Which, to me, hold great appeal…

A small intrusion of A.I.
Disturbed me in a way
That’s impossible to process
And thus harder to convey.

A photograph of me today,
At lunch, a friend beside,
Was followed by an altered one,
Which A.I. did provide.

Our friend’s son, who’s a techno whiz,
Created it in jest
To make it look like 1990
And it passed the test.

My face and hair looked similar
To how I do appear,
But the clothing and the body
And the earrings made it clear

That it wasn’t me, but rather
Some strange version that was made
By a product I don’t understand
And makes me feel afraid.

The photo won’t go further
But it gave me just a taste
Of the power of the future
And how we can be replaced.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Charlie Chameleon

Sad old Charlie Chameleon was feeling really low
He blended into the background and never was on show

He had his eyes on a lady love who would be his soul mate
But she just couldn’t see him so he never got his date

Charlie sat in a gnarled old tree and sang a plaintive song
He loved to listen to music but the words just came out wrong

Suddenly he heard laughter for someone else was in the tree
Charlie peered quite hard and then he could finally see

A lovely lady chameleon was basking on the tree trunk
He plucked up nerve to say hello – that really took some *****

The chameleon’s name he discovered was Liz
One look in her eyes and his heart did whiz

Now Charlie is as happy as can be
They sit together in that gnarled old tree

The moral of this story is if you want to be seen 
Don’t stay hidden in the shadows and find the lady in your dream

Jan Allison
9th August 2014

Inspiration behind this Poem from Brian Johnson’s ‘The Man Who Loved 
Lizards'
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Augury

The sight of a peacock gladdens my heart.
Is this because it's a form of fine art?
Good things are going to happen, my mind says.
Is a peacock, in any way, a whiz?

A black cat crosses my day-to-day way.
I am doomed—in my heart of hearts, I say.
Impulsively I press the reverse gear.
The sounds of souls and ghosts, within I hear

While the squeak of a squirrel is a fun
At the sight of an owl, why should I run?
Fear of death strikes me when I see a bat.
Diseases cease me when seeing a rat.

Why should blossoms fear the thorns around them?
Should, for the whims of snakes, the birds succumb?
Doesn't the sense of fear dwell in one's mind?
Shutting the sight of faith, should one be blind?
Form: Rhyme

Quirks

Quirks

Lennon and McCartney
Composed a song for harps, 
But neither one was very good
At reading flats and sharps.

DaVinci was a total whiz
at graphic arts and science,
but could he run a marathon,
or wrestle with the giants?

Transformers bring us light,
As Tesla had some genius. 
Yet, he had no business sense,
Thus perished impecunious.

Descartes declared, "I am,"
And Marx united workers,
But when it came to music,
Both of them were shirkers.

Socrates taught others
By making pointed queries.
Although he was illiterate,
We understand his theories.

Lincoln, Ford, and Edison
Are considered rather legend'ry.
But for all of their accomplishments,
They never finished second'ry.

The moral of the story is,
If your marks are wanting,
Do not be dismayed,
It's really not that daunting.

Each soul has its genius.
Each soul has its quirk.
If you follow both of those,
Then your dream can work.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Butterfly

Here by this park
The flowers bloom,
Bright colours spark
As fragrance grooms.


Butterfly moves
From here to there,
Flutter and groove
To seek new fares.


A pair in chase
Over green leaves,
In cheery craze
Over wind drifts.


Ancient lovers
From times before,
Light now shimmers
With joy galore.


There's a lightness
In the cool breeze,
I taste brightness
In easy whiz.


I take a stroll
In sunlit dawn,
Feel calmness roll
On grassy lawn.


In sun and shade,
The moments spring,
Watch stillness trade
A precious fling.


Here for a while,
Colours now tint,
I sense a smile
Style face and mint.


My thoughts now rest
On waves of rhyme,
Soul feels fond zest
Arise in time.


Too soon, the world
Cramps out free style,
With haste, I swirl
Away from smiles.


Thus, I now spy
The ebb and flow,
Watch cares now try
To alter glow.


Yet I keep heart
Light with sure light,
Keep feeling art
In fond insight.




Leon Enriquez
29 November 2014
Singapore
Form: Quatrain


Premium Member The Long Winter of Our Discontent

When it comes to politics, as in nature…as in life…we would be a fool
to think every question has a simple answer…
to think here are no exceptions to a rule.

Look at all the issues facing us today…each side knows the other’s way of thinking is medieval 
Each side knows they are right and they are good…and the other side is evil.

Republicans know they are fair and just and honorable in their beliefs
as do the democrats…
But nothing we believe is that uncomplicated…It’s never as simple as that.

There is a story behind every one of us…a reason we think and act the way we do
and it has taken a lifetime of experiences for us to form our point of view…

I cannot dismiss or banish you…just because the two of us don’t agree.
Any more, just because we don’t see eye to eye, that you can dismiss or banish me.

So how do we end this stalemate…as well as our mutual hatred, anger and fear?
If we want to be a great country…where do we go from here?

I believe we should be doing something…we should have been doing all along…
Look to nature for our inspiration because nature will never steer us wrong.

When we’re so very rigid in what we believe…in what we vehemently proclaim….
Nature reminds us life is all about change…that nothing ever stays the same.

That’s why we have four seasons…because after the cold and snow that Winter brings
once the ice begins to melt…the flowers can bloom again in Spring.

We are in the midst of a cold, cold winter…the only way out would be if and when…
we bring back the Springtime and allow our flowers to bloom again.

It doesn’t take a genius, an expert…a prodigy…or a whiz
to understand how nothing in nature is perfect…yet everything in nature is.

I’m not saying it will be easy to blend our beliefs and hopes and dreams
because if we’ve learned anything from nature it’s that nothing is ever as simple as it seems.

But, I for one, am tired of the winter…I’m ready for the birds again to sing…
I’m ready for the sun to shine, the ice to melt and the flowers to bloom again in Spring.
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Plumb Line Hoisted Deep

Brainstorm cometh, damning frontal hemisphere
jamming lookout, noggin perched, roiling thinking
uber wayfaring zealot, drills legendary phalanx.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Writer's block afflicts Das scribe,
     who whiz now stricken supine
     adept dull livery sub par excellence
     his gold standard worse

thus, another day
     to slog thru arduous process
     crafting admirable verse
wrestling behemoth loosed sniper
     dodging enfilade broadcast sos terse.

N'er easy chore to fashion
     acceptable word worth poem to whit
staring at flickering
     accursed cursor doth blank stare visit

flash flooding warning saturated
     gray matter fist sized unit
groundswell burgeoning leveed banks
     barging signals transmit

urgent army corps of engineers
     to reroute via sluice, sans surfeit
apprentice longshoreman
     doth double duty

     as grammarian sought to retrofit
arduous struggle ensues, where drowning
     affects consummation
     strong temptation quit

ditch ching progress made,
     thus far in hot pursuit
mind comfortably numb
     stream of consciousness

     submerges concentration
     entrenched deep posit
craftiness sentenced to punctuate
     disequilibrium doth outwit

venerably beaded trademark
     Scottish matted flair
     abandoned unfinished poem
     left forever stranded orbit
     zero escape velocity

zinging, unsprung, 
     pinging mindscape nonprofit
able endeavor reflecting zeitgeist
     bombarding Messerschmitt
undermining, strafing, disabling
     cutting crew rescue outer limit
faint feint blinking in the twilight zone.

Premium Member Frolic - Frolic Along With Me

Frolic - frolic along with me
   And be as a spritely fawn
Running carelessly through the reeds
   As best we can imagine.

Let's traipse across the rivulet
   Where a log fell in the right place.
What luck that we should find it
   Like it knew of our escapade!

The shrubs have something to say;
   Small murmurs are thrown to the wind.
They catch up to us and whiz by
   But we've not a common language.

So wildly about the winds gush
   That my whipped hair looks feral.
We trample the weeds underfoot;
   We overtake a lonesome hill.

Somewhere, anywhere - let us run
   And forge for ourselves a new path.
Frolic with me through the unknown
   So sure that we never look back.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Fiscal Calisthenics Or the Bill Paying Blues

The thing I least look forward to,
The root of my financial ills,
Is the vile administration
Of my monthly pile of bills.

You'd think a single guy like me,
Whose needs and wants are all but nil,
Could whiz through funds manipulation
When it comes to paying bills.

It's the interest on the principal
Of credit card accounts that kills
And perpetuates extenuation
Of MasterCard and Visa bills.

Man cannot live by cash alone,
Hence the propensity of credit mills,
And the gross accumulation
Of large revolving charges bills.

But when statements say there's naught to pay,
Oh, how that "zero balance" thrills!
No refund as remuneration,
Just dismissed from that long list of bills.

My credit's good, I shouldn't brood
Upon this fiscal tribulation,
But if I had my druthers,
I'd druther hide out in the hills
Than face the monthly calculation
Of my bills, bills, bills.

Humorous Tribute To Three Soupers

Jack the Quatrain King a possible moniker 
When it comes to quatrains, he’s an astonisher
With humor and wit he deliver’s his world view
Unfortunately now, he’s part of a silly clerihew 


Linda or A Poet Destroyer
I didn’t know poetry had Warriors 
I read some poems and she loved to fight 
I would just read and think, that aint right


Seren Roberts, a welsh girl, yes she proudly is
Call her English and you prolly won’t here gee whiz
A poet and an artist I know this much is true
But did she write a poem talking about fox poo?


This is all in good humor towards three of my favorite poets here. Hopefully no one gets offended and if they do I’ll be happy to remove this.
Form: Clerihew

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