Long Zany Poems
Long Zany Poems. Below are the most popular long Zany by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Zany poems by poem length and keyword.
Really?
discarding narrow thought flow crutch
we learn directly by soft touch
and what we garner we relay
to the vast void in childlike play
entwined thus with the universe
we dance without need to rehearse
It sounds exhausting!
***
Spontaneity is an evil thing,
days should be orderly with no surprises.
Don't knock on my door at noon
then roll your eyes I'm still in pajamas.
Whimsy
Zany
Wacky
Gayly
There are no zany words of whimsy in my vocabulary;
Let no wacky words gayly drip from your mouth, please, it's quite unsanitary!
Shut the door and close the blinds,
fresh air belongs out not in.
Go away and please don't bother me~
unless, of course, you bring some wine!
Mammalian marrow, however brutal it tries,
It will always be dreadful.
Megaloblastic, mismatched, mammalian marrow.
Does the mammalian marrow assist you to shake?
Does it?
I cannot guess but stop and look at the passionate, additional affectionateness.
Are you upset by how lustful it is?
Does it rip you apart to assure the additional affectionateness so passionless?
An experienced eye is a weeping fountain.
The weeping fountain his experienced eye.
Never forget the cosmic and heroic experienced eye.
I saw the zany spirit of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the secret soul.
Does the secret soul assist you in shivering?
Does it?
A moderate middle, however brutal it tries,
It will always be the size.
Does the moderate middle assist you in shivering?
Does it?
Don't believe that a healthy heartbeat is slow?
A healthy heartbeat is firm ludicrously.
Does a healthy heartbeat assist you in shivering?
Do it?
Alliteration always awesome
Ballad beyond barnyard basics
Crystalline calls careful consonants,
Diamante delivers deeply
Enthusiasm excites eager ears,
Fanciful frolicking faerie
Generously gives grateful glee
Hyping haiku to heavenly heights,
Imagery and imagination
Jubilantly jumping joyfully,
Kimo kindles king-sized kingpin,
Lamenting the lily-livered lunacy
Momentous muse modulates melody,
Necromancer normalizes Neverland,
Opulent Opalescent orchestras opt
To pollute poetry previously pristine.
Quixotic quorum of questioners
Respond and recover rhymes rapidly
Serendipitous sentimentality
Turns timely tanka traitorously toward
Unmistakably understated Uranus,
Vindicating verses vilifying Vashti.
Whacking wannish warblers west,
‘Xaggerating ‘Xtemperaneous X’tra special poems
Yet yielding a yeomanly yearning toward
A zealous zany zingaroo of zest.
God took our Grumpy Cat to Rainbow
Bridge!
That adorable angel cat, oh, how you
made us laugh.
You, the star and internet sensation!
Who filled our hearts with glorious
glee in any situation!
To be honest, dear Grumpy, I loved you
because you were so much like me!
Who says NO, to things, that most
people scream at with glee!
NO to texting, NO to crowded amusement parks,
Amd NO to schooling plus add on
a NOmost assuredly to become ...
Eeeks! A part of passive lemmings.
NO to flying, exercise and even driving!
NO to malls, restaurants,theaters.
and Lord forbid, zany sky diving.
So rest in peace, dearest Grumpy Cat!
Heaven only knows what at Rainbow
Bridge you will do!
But I have a premonition, that you
will always be the NO you.
You were your own cat!
And as far as I am concerned that
is the most incredible thing any of
us can hope to be.
Your big NO fan on earth~
Panagiota ^NO^ Romios
5/19/2019
6:00am PST
SHE WANTED TO BE A NUN
After graduating from eighth grade,
She wanted to be part of the novitiate,
of the Holy Sisters of Nazareth.
Dad put his foot down loud and hard.
How she went from that, to nurse,to
teacher ,to comedian and bellydancer?
Are eternal questions to which she just
cannot find any answers!
Who knows what her zany future may
bring?
A palace, a Mercedes? Better yet.
perchance a loving, handsome king?
She has no unicorns of fairies dancing
in her house.
They are all on vacation now~so the
poet's only companion is a cheese-loving,
visiting field mouse!
November 15, 2019
Second sight in some infants, short tenure belies
Unbiased newness unpicks societal manufacture
To passers by, lurking spiritual assets recognisable
Pervading expression classifies their clairvoyance
Such was toddling dandelion darling, Aubergine
Unphased, observant, chillingly serene in nature
Cherubic smirk absorbed traits, antics compiled
Tea coloured irises brewed extracted evidence
Aloof by default, addictive was desire to amuse her
Surfacing sufficient wit to captivate earned pleasure
Complex humour her veracity seeking palate required
Ego's growth ensued causing her copper eyes to flare
Taut uncooked dough forehead bound words in focus
Incidental text in her proximity statue faced savoured
Without parental prompting, pillared wisdom widened
Constant calculation of her purposed component
Memorable eerie moment in Aubergine activity
I surreptitiously witnessed striking behaviour
"Don't tell Mummy, I was once burnt alive in fire."
She confided in her soft toy 'school' semi circle
Watching her calm revelation, mildly humilated
by my unfamiliarity with her zany brain's structure
Her sophistication held me dauntingly hypnotised
Haunted by her thirty month old pre life mystery
Written 18th June
( I just noticed today's date sounds a bit like 'Aubergine')
a word name I thought suited a little tot called Lexi
at a Day Care Centre I worked at a few years ago.
After putting this poem up, I realise
Aubergine sounds like Joan of Arc (Jeanne D'arc)
swapped syllables.
Didn't plan the poem to mention fire.
I had only the concept of outstanding baby girl when sat to write.
She whispered in my ear of neon lights,
my mother,celebrated actress,
waning star in sick bay,
zany bird nest hairstyle on display,
lock and tress erect,
skin-fold ripple eggshell pallor,
mothball end play flutter from the wings.
I, devoted sibling, reluctant hospital visitor,
now bearing doleful witness,
to the voice that once enthralled a thousand hearts,
with oral feats and seismic tone-shifts,
like someone trying to catch a friend’s attention on an outbound train,
now tragic downturn ache.
Apple walnut salad only deli window fodder in her eyes,
Dijon mustard sachet cast aside as if unwanted email spam,
get well cards cut paper dragon trails.
Nightingales of tender years and warmth who nurse in rosters,
slowly spread those deathly forms right underneath an icon’s split chin rash.
Whiff of starchy clerk and file procedure hovers over gridlock wards,
private health insurance an albatross of waiver in that very human passing out parade.
Yet here I am, son and heir, entr’acte curator of maternal legend’s skyward exit,
tummy rumble moment where impromptu has the edge on solemn plot,
as one walks on stage hoping not to freeze.
The one true screen test all
must face dear mum would say,
before our sip from life’s rich cup becomes a stain upon the twilight bow of curtains.
Darkness has pressed up against our lattice windows. Classes start again in the morning. I’m being reabsorbed by college life. I’m a planner. I’ve been going over my syllabuses, repacking my bookbag, charging my power banks, checking and rechecking the assignments due tomorrow. After watching me prep for hours, Peter said, “You’re not going to the MOON.”
Peter asked me last Friday, “Are you excited for Monday? (I’ll find out if I get my fellowship.)
“I’m more excited about tonight,” I said, “I like going out on the town.”
“Wow,” he said, “you’re so different - not like the other girls at all.”
“No!” I said, laughing, “We’re stuck in a rut, we only go to one or two places, ever - if we go out at all. When people come to New Haven, I need places to take them - places besides pizza. At home, in Athens, I know twenty places - this is RESEARCH.” I assured him.
Peter settled back into his doctorate-fraternity-house yesterday. Tonight (Sunday), there’s music in the suite, the crazy noises of people and the comfort of returned friends. All the roommates are back, greeted with hugs and kisses, as they dragged in their luggage.
Lisa arrived with dinner, for 10, from Dominick's, in Manhattan. Spaghetti, salads, rolls, extra sauce - in six, small, suitcase-sized insulated bags. It was a logistical marvel. It’s only 90 minutes from Manhattan to the residence - we didn’t need to rewarm anything. “I KNOW we could have just eaten in the dining hall,” she said, shrugging, “call it zany - one last hurrah.”
Everyone seemed happy to be back. There were travel stories, questions, and laughter. Oh, and Zeppole, little powdered sugar custard desserts that seemed the worst for travel. Everyone seemed to have an eye on the clock though. By 11pm the suite was quiet. Très unusual.
* A song for this piece would be “Kennedy” by feeble little horse
On a shattered pebble beach my kernel,
becomes this dervish dancing to the maniacal symbol rash tune,
of inchoate monsoon grass beat timpani,
that’s dimly frowned on by sonic virtuoso,
but terms like briny carrageen sea sweep gain purple splotch kudos,
I gaze with indigo ocean eyesight,
at sheer rock face sunken mould gradient,
where faculties solicit august maxim,
from eternal parchment, grain whirl sand dune smorgasbord,
mud-strewn psalms primed and pumped by ebbing sotto voce stream,
gust smitten lighthouse whose solitary pulsing wink always welcome,
syntax that gray matter genesis scorned geoform tag,
I scribble quintains in a quagmire that ooze magma inkling,
prose stolen from jagged facet incline or whatever,
has this elemental moment turned ghost writer by sixth sense?
saline vista swung pivot on tsunami doorway,
brackish carcass rife with clamped seashells as mirror,
weather-worn thoughts skim eccentric apex,
behemoth undertaker facing self-scripted gauntlet,
but this pilgrim shall yearn evermore imbibing loose mist,
with marble slab as jotter and squid ink another fountain pen,
who really knows what tidemark gems may yet surface,
do metaphors sequester diurnal cycles like day/night swop?
rhetorical or not this lambent aspect must be met on grit-etch blue boulder,
vice-grip of visual plunge belies gravity,
yet this blustery conundrum is just this water drop,
something inconsequential for one clutching at faint will-o-the-wisp,
pepper-strewn haze does obstruct linguistic odour,
despite a caustic rebuff from deep down warden as inner slant,
zany whirlpool blob grasping at ambiguous twill plume,
faraway tangerine canvass might stir tongue-tied raw sketch,
ingenious quest might throb for charmed portrayal,
nought shall thwart this dreamer off-course,
spectral pantoum, geometric quatrain, jewel-crust tanka,
prolific silken sentient suzette an overarch odyssey,
regardless of vernal totem, sumptuous literary harvest,
with its dogged catalytic compass point,
to maunder without curb despite prevailing opus storm,
sculptured outcrop on an apt idyllic text,
once off ephemeral from boundless paragon,
a colour burst vocabulary pending but when?
Around and around the merry-go-round
Bound by nostalgia and youthful
Cheer, we've spun until we no longer
Deem to be care and wrinkle free.
Ever so mindful of days gone by so
Fruitful did they seem. Now from the
Ground we see the roots are
Hastily beginning to show.
If all the while as years flew by, the
Joy of simplicity seeming more
Keen than coy, why fight these recurring
Lines. The ones that come from laughs and
Maybe crows. Only the feet though.
No, not necessarily the implied bad
Omen. We spun so long we forget
Perhaps, that we started so
Quiet and without a thought. It turned
Raucous and complicated, ridiculous and
Stressful. How did spinning in circles
Turn into stacking anvils. Trembling
Under the weight while knowing of a
Vision that casts through the mess like a
Whimsical world magnifying glass. An
X-ray to see past the sad layer. To see a
Youthful version of yourself that remains
Zany and zealous and blissfully unknowing