Long Wrested Poems
Long Wrested Poems. Below are the most popular long Wrested by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wrested poems by poem length and keyword.
Loosing (lou sing) the damn rumors...
Torpedo style full speed ahead
keeping me in suspense,
what salacious gossip
gets browned, buttered, rolled
down the alley and bred
into unsavory tidbits,
these souffled ears dread
to hear hard boiled morsels
poached, scrambled, whipped
donning barren falsehoods
zeitgeist spouting dunderhead
trumpeting hex pence heave
signature border wall
inside this weatherbeaten egghead
sponge bobbing squarepants,
whereby passers by some with fathead
steer clear avoiding your truly
wobbly, and zany fountainhead
even atlas shrugged his shoulders
in repugnance at mine R.E.M. bored
heavy slimy algal filled
legally tendered greenhead
thank dog - me noggin
rock solid hardhead
able to withstand falsehoods
pitting this uber capital one
tindered linkedin lyfted loggerhead
with silent springing
black barbs snubbed from lunkhead
argh, those cruel verbal slings
fired weapons courtesy
mass destruction multiwarhead
lobbed, rocket propelled, tear gassed
glancing off cratered moon faced pate
said vicious unfounded nailhead
sharp hearsay twittering
with wingspan outspread
pterodactyl by bajillion miles exceeded
size of Sheepshead
Bay, I knew best to tread
softly, and carry big stick
admonished by Teddy Roosevelt
in conjunction with unifying thread
primarily on issues
in mathematics and logic
advanced by Alfred North Whitehead,
hence we must find another
place to escape widespread
senior citizens acting juvenile,
maybe a place gravely wrested
or willingly conceded
from grateful dead.
Team Lungs made there
In ring debut. Less impressive
to the Grapplers Union; the fans
seemed to love it. Borgo, Bounce,
Bootez, Shuffle, and Booty. Faced
G.U. who comprises of Big Giggy Sayso,
Fuss Strant, Mazzo Mendini, and
Epoxy Curfew.
All action, the referee loses control
and called the match to halt. Senior
referee Dank Seagrin did outside ref
Work from request of the side ring officials
request. Quick exchanges and high-flying
Moves gave way to a wrestling clinic by
Mendini, who out wrested Sayso, and Bootez
Who are World class wrestlers. At 12:43 a
Whip into the ropes produced a claw into a
Clothesline manuver. When Epoxy Curfew
Leaned to retrieve his proned opponent he
Was rolled to receive a nearfall. They tag off
Both men, at 14:14 Mendini strummed up Sayso
With a Who Words Boobytrap gaining victory by
Pinfall.
The withered leaves of summer days
cling to the oak tenaciously;
their dry and brittle sighs are heard
when winter winds sift through the trees.
They will not die a gracious death
and flutter to the fields while gold;
when other leaves deep carpets make
impassioned oaks increase their hold.
They cling till Death's determined winds
in violent spasm fling them down;
but, even as they touch the ground,
new buds of green replace the brown.
How I admire their courage, staunch,
their joy of living in Death's face,
for even winter's blasting wind
a challenge meets in their embrace.
Although their death is imminent,
their grasp near wrested from the tree,
they strain to sip life's nectar all,
before they meet eternity.
I would be like them to the end;
while drinking in my final breaths,
I would sing of life's ecstatic joy
and pause with you when facing death.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, 1987
devastatingly, grievously, inconsolably,
got hexed, issued jilted livingsocial, a less
son learned to late, how maddeningly mess
say yon nick lee infuriated, not accepting press
sing ill fate, nor countenancing fatal injustice,
refusing to curtsy fiendish inxs did piss
her off (poisoned scorpion sting) remiss
cheekily peppering psyche as if Swiss
cheese, a once spunky Arthur Murray shored
dance instructor, who scored
door prize in the guise of thee less torte sured
near nonagenarian papa, where meanness poured
from grim mortal outlook parlayed moored
deadly reaper, quashed, ruined as lord
stole, sacred maternal tribal nurse, unfairly did hoard
final precious seconds unexpectedly meant un explored
positive rapport forever undergirded "door"
closed to resolve ambivalence with venerable bead
did association between
kith and kin, unfairly
dead poet society lettered deed
wrested a vibrant life despite zest that freed
a vibrant gal to coast along dialed up esprit
de corps spirit to live, yet greed
of metastatic cancer upended lead,
where mind over matter, sans power
in positive thinking rubric and plead
ding didst kill last ditch homeopathic screed
ambitions trumped, thus giving up the ghost
wracking sadness, sinking sorrow spilling most
lee tears of loss, among family, fellow Unitarians
of the Thomas Paine Fellowship
included with your obituary post.
I used to rock my baby
‘Neath an overhanging tree
Which grew right by the river,
Just a block or two from me.
Its leafy boughs provided shade
To my most favorite bench,
A haven in the city
Where a new mom could entrench.
In recent years, those branches
Formed a bower where I’d rest,
To read or write a poem or two,
With breezes that caressed.
For more than thirty years, that tree
Has stood there like a friend.
I never ever thought I’d see
Its life abruptly end.
This morning, though, I passed that spot
And noticed too much sky.
The tree is gone, a fact my brain
Was dying to deny.
It isn’t worth it to protest;
The awful deed is done.
No more will strollers have a place
Of shelter from the sun.
But so much more than summer shade
This neighborhood has lost.
When roots are wrested from the ground,
To me, a line’s been crossed.
TAKEMBACH VIRAC MADE HIS LONG AWAITED RING DEBUT
ALONG WITH HIS MANAGER VIRAG CAME TO THE RING AND OUT WRESTED HIS OPPONET
AND GRABBED THE MICROPHONE AND INSULTED THE RING ANNOUCER FOR MIXING UP HIS LAST NAME
HE SAID HOW ARE THE HUNNIES GONNA KNOW WHO THEIR ARRING?
THE CROWD BOO'D HIM AND IT STARTED A LONG RELATIONSHIP
WITH CROWDS NOT LIKING HIM.
EVERY WHERE HE WENT PEOPLE BOO'D HIM.
HE COULD OUT WRESTLE THE BEST IN THE WORLD
BUT PEOPLE NEVER LIKED HIM
HE EVEN HAD A HARD TIME KEEPING WOMAN DUE TO THE FACT PEOPLE
LIKED GETTING TOGETHER BEHIND HIS BACK AND UNDERMINING HIS INTENTIONS.
HE WAS A NICE GUY, BUT HE LEARNED TO CURSE YOU IN PUBLIC.
AND CURSE YOU HARD.
HE ONCE TOLD A WOMAN AT RINGSIDE THAT THE PERFUME COVER UP THE FUNK, AND SHE SHOULD
BE SHAMED FOR BEING SO FUNKY. WELL THE WOMAN GRABBED HER UMBRELLA AND STRUCK HIM BEHIND HIS LEFT EAR.
HE NEEDED 14 STITCHES.
THE WOMAN SON BECAME A WRESTLER
WE THOUGHT KNOWTHING OF IT
UNTIL HE ATTACKED HI ONE NIGHT
IN THE LOCKER ROOM.
THE REFFERRE COUNTED TO THRE DUE TO THAT CLAUSE IN HIS CONTRACT
THAT STARTED THE ERA OF
" MIGHTY GEMBO DELGRECO, AS THE WORLDS HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION. HE HELD THE ITLE NINE TIMES, AND WAS SAID TO BE THE GREATEST WORLD CHAMPION IN THE HISTORY OF WRESTLING BY wRESTLING aLMANAC MAGIZINE."
FORMER GRAPPLING GREAT lOU fRENEZ ON THE CHANGE IN WRESTLING
In the workshop of my waking hours,
I am the maker of my own day,
Crafting moments with a DIY attitude,
Twisting fate's threads with hands unbound.
At 6 AM, I pick up my tools,
Coffee grounds and ambition,
Mixing the elixir of caffeinated dreams,
Stirring in the alchemy of determination.
The clock ticks, a relentless metronome,
11:11 winks, an angelic muse,
As if the universe has a sense of humor,
A cosmic jest in numerical ruse.
"Make a wish," they say with a smirk,
As if dreams were granted in seconds,
But I'll forge my own destiny, thank you,
With sweat and grit, not ethereal reckonings.
No celestial arithmetic can guide these hands,
Turning the wrench of daily toil,
In the cacophony of self-made symphonies,
I dance with chaos, a rebel in the coil.
Lunchtime, a respite from the assembly line,
Sandwiches wrapped in brown paper,
I nibble on the crumbs of inspiration,
Savoring the taste of self-made capers.
The afternoon sun spills its golden ink,
I dip my pen into the daylight,
Scrawling plans on the parchment of possibility,
Mapping out a future, bold and bright.
5 PM, the whistle blows, a release,
Yet the DIY Day is far from done,
For in the studio of the evening,
I sculpt my leisure, a masterpiece begun.
Dinner is a feast of flavors and reflection,
A banquet of self-appreciation,
11:11 appears again, a cosmic wink,
Mocking the notion of divine intervention.
"Make a wish," it whispers with a smirk,
But I've outgrown such whimsical fancy,
For in the sweat of creation and the grind of will,
I find my muse, not in numbers but in the dance of circumstance.
So, here's to the makers of their own destiny,
The dreamers who wrested the real from fantasy,
In the DIY symphony of moments and minutes,
We find our purpose, our own sweet serendipity.
Tagboard Media
Hizzia Handfull wrestled Diffa Dank Hassinberg
to a twenty minute draw
Muchabout Nothing and Hussylover defeated
Brimms Doltrium and Moondog Melgriff Mange
in a two out of three fall match (taking two falls
for the win.
Jafney " Attaboy " Sayer figurefoured Gamey Almost
to capture the vacant North of South
Title, using a middleground fall-away to score
the pin.
Baknocca " slick Willy" Hosscaul was Disqualified
against Steep Depper, he throw the referee over
MiSong and Clepper Claff del Grecko defeated
Sifftin Saddle and " Bigside" Daryle Dopple
when Claff DDT'd Grecko for the winfall.
main Event
World Campion
" My Wifes Manfreind" Bulky Bannerdaff out wrested
" The Golden American" Beefy Hambone
to retain his world tilte.
( used a bassoon to knock his opponet sensless, to
score the pin)
Sonnet from Memories - Episode 5
Shadow dance of distortion fade in and out
Teasing to the fore then get wrested back
Manipulative psychic games with subconscious
Like the sun rays flitting behind clouds of black
Memories of her's succumb to quiet whispers
Disappearing hope with each ponderous breath
Green eyes with sadness reflects in the mirror
Broken spirit recedes into shadowy death
Fading expectations with each passing hour
A life once had – Gone for no reasons
Day brings no enlightenment or answers
Night brings its own dreams and demons
Whispers that fade into lurking silhouettes
Seeming familiar faces slink back into regress
Sonnet from Memories - Episode 7
Who so ever says that - ‘tis better to have loved
And lost - than never to have loved at all’
Has expressed mere words off a flippant tongue
Has not seen a soul burn or tears of blood fall
Nor witnessed love that has appeared but once
Or Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet and their tragic end
Nor perceived true love’s departure that burned like acid rain
Tennyson’s profound poetic words can never ever mend
A heart that has shattered in a million bits
No words of advice no matter how well meant
Can repair these damaged lungs that cry out for air
A plea for amnesia would doubtless be better sent
No measure of anaesthesia can this pain erase
Surrender to sweet amnesia this curse to replace
Video Clip - Guy Sebastian - ‘Amnesia’
I am the Martyr you shall not want
I lay me down across waters
You will not cross
I wander mountainsides alone
To bring their grandeur
To your door
And run through gauntlets unafraid
Your cross to bear
I climb the steps of lofty peaks
Through storm and strife and dark of night
And rage the sky in grave distress, for you –
For you, my noble quest, I bear witness
To the blade and knife
To the callous force of Nature’s might
And in despair cry out your name
Though it radiates in muted tones
The crimson luster of its flame
Yea, though I walk through hidden valleys
In the shadow of the midday sun
And move in darkness, as it were
In honor of my sacred word
And wander in the wilderness
These long and restless years
Seeking a deliverance
I seem not to deserve
I yet am bound, in act and deed
By oath of blood and oath of right
Wrested from the Moon
One long and anguished night
Unto my lone and solitary quest
‘Less by loss of hope, of heart, of fight
I lose of you, my love, my life –