Long Wobble Poems
Long Wobble Poems. Below are the most popular long Wobble by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wobble poems by poem length and keyword.
Written: April 26, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Awakening, my soul climbs to pure bliss,
The vertex wobble, swayed by the sun's kiss.
A flame within my spirit burning bright,
For me, the scene looks same as windy sight.
Majestic peak reaches toward the sky,
Whispering life's elixir with descry.
My heart has never seen such a sweet light,
I found solace with shelter in my plight.
my soul is boosted by the sunlit lake,
serene in silver; in my eyes, thrills wake.
A serene gold, waking thrills in my gaze,
Leaves are retained by trees, and limbs arise.
Bewitched by its gathered emerald cloud,
My spirit soars to peaceful heaven shroud.
After an hour’s incessant rain
On this cloudless evening
With the face of the sky
Washed clean
Globules of water
Have speckled the oiled surface
Of leaves on arching trees
They glisten in the evening light
Reflecting kaleidoscopic colors
As I look on, they quiver,
Dither, wobble and flutter
In their effort to balance precariously,
Each drop flops down one by one
With a sad refrain
Flip… plop, flip …plop
Leaving ripples in the puddles below
In the deep hush of Nature
On this twilight evening
Their distinct tinkling
Falls as music to my ears!
Placed First
For Strand’s (1063) Poetry Contest
Placed First
'Twas the night before Christmas quite a long time ago
I was nestled snugly in bed with my brother Joe
The stockings were hung neatly on our footboard rails
While we dreamt visions of Barbie’s Dollhouse and Motor Maniac trails
Mom and Dad to make it our special day
Sat with our gifts, wrapping papers, toolbox and a tray
All over the carpet, they were scattered about
It was such a mess, there wasn’t a doubt.
“Now, hammer it, twist it, blot it right here!
Slide on the seat, and staple the chair!
Handle it with care, it’s a costly brand”
“Oh! Honey”, said, Dad “You just glued my hand.”
Alas! The toys were assembled and gift-wrapped with coloured strings
Now lay stacked under the glittering Christmas tree for both siblings
Dad said, “It’s going to be our greatest Christmas to date
Just wait to see the joys of surprise on their faces I create.”
He dressed up as Santa with a matching red cloak, cap and trousers
A stuffed belly, a white beard to disguise his visage and manners
“Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!” he exclaimed stepping on a Christmas bauble
He tripped over and fell on the floor with a loud thud after a wobble
His cap fell off his head and his beard hung dishevelled
He lay there on the floor all unnerved and puzzled
The act came to a sad end and woke up the little lad
Lil Joe sprang up from bed and exclaimed loudly, “Hey! that's Dad.”
A quiet dare to every fear that said I shouldn't chase this thrill,
each shaky push a promise that I'd bend the board to my own skill.
The concrete hummed beneath me like it knew I'd come to rise,
and every wobble taught me how to trust the fire behind my eyes.
The park became my canvas, every ramp a line to trace my name,
each rail a chance to rewrite chapters where I once felt small or tame.
Falls turned into teachers, bruises into proof I showed up strong,
and every scrape reminded me I've had resilience all along.
I learned to carve with courage, letting motion pull me through,
discovering that age can't cage the part of me that still feels new.
There's art in every risk I take, in every trick I dare to start,
because there's always more to learn when you ride with an open heart.
Let’s sit like comrades
Let’s talk like one
As we watch each other’s back.
Let’s put our ideas to the know
So that we can make this nation grow
For we are in it together.
Let’s live the spirit of Unison
Lest our tribes and culture divides us
Let’s bury the hatred of yesterday
So that we can have a happy today.
Let us scurry towards good
And share of what food
This nation has in store.
Let’s embrace the words of greatness
And help our progeny find their path,
Let’s break down these callous walls
That have been a threat to our success.
Men and Women; Young and Old
Let’s build a better country
Devoid of corruption and crime
Our country needs us
To be just and upright,
To build and not to destroy
For its gains and not for its pains.
Let our feet thread this earth
Of a country in a moment of rebirth.
Let the youths embrace this gift
Of success from renewed struggles
And of loyalty towards fatherland.
Let them keep the hopes alive
That they truly are
The great leaders of our tomorrow.
Let’s obey the laws of the land
And let’s give rights to those due
And if this nation should wobble
Or clamour in times of trouble
Let us all be concerned as patriots,
That we are in it together.
© Ayinla, Muyideen Adeleke
Frenzied anguish precipitated Matt chew
Scott Harris, with
unrelenting, unescapable,
and unbearable despair, grew
wing by leaps and bounds,
which fraught gloom didst hew
mindset equalled nought
(Gordian knot) i.e.
zero ambition tubby
alive, and concomitantly
brought if only you knew,
wrought unbearable toxic brew
to pinpoint the exact clue
how being penniless I do
attest, this compounded zilch money
agonized by quite
a stack - more'n a few
monthly bills past due,
thus aye rue
min hated, the least loo
pee, and most painless
final solution of this Jew
wish atheist, (these
utterances absolutely true),
no "FAKE king," trump
petting, yawping foam
minted psychosomatic ague,
whereat mine mental state hue
mon gust lee off kilter,
with hum moo
zing thoughts of
palm lee strangling myself,
(or hiring sum
handsome fist responder to slew),
me the way - no
cho king) till I go
totally tubularly blue
in the face, em
barking on undo
wobble decision, said permanent
exodus from life,
this scribe dost view
as last saving grace,
this self woo
man eye zing,
(nada so amazing),
ye might poo poo
such drastic desperation,
non heroic measures stew
pa head and er ration
hubble grim foray
exacerbated predisposition
to panic/ anxiety attacks,
the alluring temptation
hi with Andy Lee drew
to bid bid adieu
to hard scrabble existence,
and in summer re: goo
winter becoming cremated powder,
(with urn nest to dog -
un woof hoot
table Sirius ness), wharf few
if any tsuris -
(Yiddish for aggravation),
NO ash lee zero distress,
would upend resting
in a bajillion pieces.
38.4154017°, -76.5341214°
A waterwheel, raceway, grinding stones (bedstone and runner stone), gears, shafts, and a hopper for grain, Diet. The crested honey buzzard is a specialist feeder, living mainly on the larvae of social bees and wasps, and eating bits of comb and honey(qilaat)Inuit The People at Funks Pond.Analog-to-digital conversion.absolute event.a combination of shutter speed aperture
that determines the amount of light reaching the camera's sensor. manufactured by Kurtis Kraft in 1949 and 1950.Punganur Made cars and had a Milling Mill on the Creek. in the 1930's they built Sports cars and sold hovercrafts in the 1933 the sold shares of there company to the public. They became famous when the wife woman began infusing honey with vanilla beans:infused honey is made by adding whole Vanilla Beans to our raw and unfiltered honey. It's a perfect balance of sweet and vanilla taste.They shut down the company
and moved all the equipment to an undisclosed place Selling the Motor Company to Frank Muntez
Expenditures/costs negotiated/spent before filming begins, including source material rights (for adaptations) and salaries for director, producer screenwriter, and actors.
Whammy Bar ( Little Black Egg.....)
Funks Pond(revamp)
(RUMOR HAS IT) Ernest T. Bass was involved in an interracial relationship with black model Donyale Luna_ they had a child in 1967 he never recognized the child. In 2001 his unrecognized granddaughter began tossing stones at a Mall in Mississauga Canada. It was said she was sing "The Creeks to Dry" skip along in bootie shorts, a white tee shirt and a sleeveless blue jean vest. It was said that she had large beetle bugs in her purse. Crazy! Crazy! Crazy!)
Written By: Pro.Tuum Proximus Maritus
and Doctor Uxor Eius Est
of Wobble Board Fame Inc.
Red Cow Music and Lyric Company
British White Recording Academy
Belgium Blue Sound Prep Inc.
all Produced and Ex-Produced
By Black Angus "Jumpan-Pumpin"
with permission by Star Anise Leather Co. LLC
Copyright Pending
Patent approved
"Cheezey-greazy sour Dill
with Yeasty rolls: Man thats
deliisous!"
Written By:
Huba Datl Chol
Circa 1969
Revised the other day(2023)
It's six months since I was told
That Parkinson's was my ill
It's taken over all I have
It's made me very ill
It's taking its time to get use to
And sort out all the pills
As they make me feel so sick
I can't do nothing at all
My body aches from top to toe
And I feel stiff as a board
I find it hard to stand and walk
I wobble over the floor
He plays away with my mined
He moves my things all day
He's so annoying to have around
He confuses me all day
I make a drink and sit and rest
A nice coffee will do
But by the time I get to sit
A latte I do have
I shake a bit and Tremble
And do the Rock and roll
I have no need to exercise
He does it all
The morning passes by
Iv done nothing at all
I sit here and think
How much I have to do
The morning has been wasted
And lunch time. Has arrived
My appetite has long gone
I hardly eat a crumb
But Mr Parky as I call him
He can go to hell
He isn't going to take my life
And all the things I love
He's a strange man he is
He lets me have a while
Of feeling good and healthy
Just for a few hours
I start to think What can I do ,
there's so much I have missed
Il bake a cake and make some jam
And enjoy the afternoon
Then he's back he gets so bored
He starts all over again
He think its funny
And that he will win
He just won't leave me alone
But he's got a big surprise
I'm tougher than he thinks
No way will he keep bullying me
As I want to live
So when he comes and he is bored
I'm going to give him a surprise
I'm going to kick him up his ass
And give him a taste of my life,
Sue gage ??
A Parkinson's suffer
Written: December 2, 2025, for contest by Anoucheka Gangabissoon
**********************
It begins as an antiphon—
ubiquitous call—ominous retort
betwixt depth of marrow and ethereal sky mist,
amid the gelid nimbus of solitude
and the vibrant, exuberant surge
of your presence.
You are the guide of my steep slope,
leading me away from lifeless despair.
to zenith’s luculent luster.
Your mellifluous sobriquet
festoons my threadbare silence,
a rhapsody against the noisome palaver
of the world’s officious slogans.
I wobble in despair,
but I wake up when you tell me to—
perseverance turns into symbiosis,
and my healing heart smudges
the sacred diction of touch
once again.
Love pulls akin chiaroscuro,
a janiform force:
one face of catharsis,
one of hubris,
Yet both sanctified
in amaranthine flame.
You exculpate my imbroglio,
untangle the fastidious knots
of my ossified fears.
Even in the dismal cloudscape,
your intrepid light
spasmodically festoons
My wilted petiole of hope.
I humiliate before this sanctity,
yet rise gamesome,
gregarious,
intrepid—
an ergate in your hive,
a viceroy in your kingdom.
The zeitgeist evanesces,
otiose burdens fall away,
and I disport in your eleemosynary grace.
Even hornswoggle and yarborough
cannot undo the synchronicity
that binds us.
Love pulls—
ubiquitous, unabated,
a hecatomb of solitude,
a panegyric of symbiosis,
a luculent valediction
to the moribund self.
And so I prowl again.
In your cimmerian,
I find sanctity.
In your treacle,
I taste eternity.
In your amaranthine pull,
I am beloved.
The path splits as unfortune would tell
The crooked, splintered sign gives warn
One says that it's the Highway to Hell
The other points to The Children of the Corn
Sudden dizziness overwhelms your entire Being
Vertigo has seem to have spun you around
The fog and mist hinder what you are seeing
Your legs cramp up as you fall to the ground
The mind numbs into a state of confusion
Unable to decide which path to take
Maybe it is all just an optical illusion
That this creepy feeling is just a fake
Standing you wobble and veer to the right
Taken as a sign your path is chosen
The Darkness has painted the blackest of night
Blind with frightened feet now frozen
A sudden wind so warm yet gives you a chill
Erupts from somewhere an unknown direction
Shhh be quiet hold completely still
As the wind whispers "You have no protection"
Panic drips sweat down a furrowed brow
And pools around your sinking feet
Your mind screams to do something now
Your Soul only feels the agony of defeat
Now waist deep paralyzed in fear
All motor skills seem to have died
Passing your chest just under your ear
Dancing in the Devils undertow tide
Panic short changes your very last breath
As the pool of tears pulls you deep within
Strong hands pull down into certain death
Lungs fill with the hot blood of sin
Thoughts no longer seem to make sense
As you plummet down to the earths core
The pull of this gravity is just too intense
As you slam face first into a burning red door
The door bursts open into this fiery cave
The noise now chatters of the insane
Pain explodes while flames lick your grave
Sanity burns out all the remnants of sane
The Red Beast appears laughing in Hell's sky
Flashing his fake veneer evil smile
Please this isn't real rubbing your eye
Laughing in your ear this Devil in denial
Hot it's so hot as organs start to boil
The putrid smell of fire burnt skin
Change you feel as a new tail uncoils
New chapter, new life as a Demon begins
Written for poetry contest "Scary Stories" 10/08/24
Hosted by: Crystol Woods