Best Too Much Poems
there's too much sorrow...
don't you know
we are all going to die
a starting point always beckons a finish
sooner or later
no matter how
peaceful or painful
that final moment may be
you see...
it will come
for you
for me
There's too much sorrow
war
betrayal
so much I have seen
sickness sapping away
the mother-daughter moments
meant for me...
She struggled bravely
to set my fears free
But MS wouldn't let her be
My Mama left me
There is too much sorrow
the pain of being unloved
of trying to fit in
of trying to play the game
of success and fame
it all comes at a cost
so much is lost...
sacrificial moments
meant for family
There is too much sorrow
refugee misery
nowhere to be
no home
no destiny
just abject poverty
hearts left hungry
for a love
that the world
will not let them see
There is too much sorrow
tonight my heart is heavy
I'm tired of goodbyes
I'm tired of trying to fit in
I'm tired of pretense
I'm tired of...me
There is too much sorrow
Eyes are blurring
I can't see
the last lines I'm meant to write
Too tired to fight
Survival more than it's pumped up to be
Sleep....obliviousness of a dream
sweet it seems to me
you see...
There is too much pain
So write...
write for me
of happy
of make believe
of heaven
and eternity
of no pain
or misery
of no abuse
or fatality
of no tears
or cruelty
no more death
for you
no more death
for me
can't you see?
Write of happy...
Please, there is too much sadness here
for me....
Eileen Manassian Ghali
I did a video of a poem that was Poem of the Week. Here is the link to the original poem.
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/too_much_sadness_for_me_711084
With all that is happening around us in the world today, I'm always reminded that a better day is coming....a day when there will be no more sorrow, mourning, sickness, or death. That day is coming soon. I believe it. Hope you enjoy the video. :)
Too Much Sadness for Me
there's too much sorrow...
don't you know
we are all going to die
a starting point always beckons a finish
sooner or later
no matter how
peaceful or painful
that final moment may be
you see...
it will come
for you
for me
There's too much sorrow
war
betrayal
so much I have seen
sickness sapping away
the mother-daughter moments
meant for me...
She struggled bravely
to set my fears free
But MS wouldn't let her be
My Mama left me
There is too much sorrow
the pain of being unloved
of trying to fit in
of trying to play the game
of success and fame
it all comes at a cost
so much is lost...
sacrificial moments
meant for family
There is too much sorrow
refugee misery
nowhere to be
no home
no destiny
just abject poverty
hearts left hungry
for a love
that the world
will not let them see
There is too much sorrow
tonight my heart is heavy
I'm tired of goodbyes
I'm tired of trying to fit in
I'm tired of pretense
I'm tired of...me
There is too much sorrow
Eyes are blurring
I can't see
the last lines I'm meant to write
Too tired to fight
Survival more than it's pumped up to be
Sleep....obliviousness of a dream
sweet it seems to me
you see...
There is too much pain
So write...
write for me
of happy
of make believe
of heaven
and eternity
of no pain
or misery
of no abuse
or fatality
of no tears
or cruelty
no more death
for you
no more death
for me
can't you see?
Write of happy...
Please, there is too much sadness here
for me....
Eileen Manassian Ghali
"I'm too much of a giver and a lover"
-------------------------------------
It's not about defining the perfectness of me
For there is not more to what I can be
in which you expect of me
But to learn to accept this is all there is to me
and where I am in life is perfectly enough for me
I am no less nor more than what is need be
It's about defining how joyful my heart is
For it is filled with love in which I have for you
and hope to be satisfying to your fantasy of perfectionist
Your imagination of perfection is an illusion
You slay me and pressure me for something
I could never be
I am upon my max limit in endurance of your selfishness
But within my heart I love you too much to give you up
Because baby
I'm too much of a giver and a lover
That's defining perfection of love and sharing
For love is what makes us happiest of all
Nothing more... Smile!
Written by, Akkina R Downing
11-5-16
It either kills the person or gives them glory.
It has it’s own life and demands territory.
It is one of the seven most deadly sins.
Be very careful because it could make your life end.
It is the contrast of real inner strength.
It has a unforgettable smell with a stench.
Pride generates vanity and humility.
It reminds me of a Greek tragedy.
With that in mind I remain humble and meek.
But are proud men considered weak?
In a lot of religions pride is definitely forbidden.
It is a mask behind which low self-esteem are hidden.
Pride makes you unable to listen to others or to God's messages.
Some people have cockiness with smuggness as their self-righteousness.
They soon deny about having problems.
But by being so hardheaded and stubborn they can never solve them.
They need to shed their masks, which covers low self-esteem, a lack of self-
confidence, and a sense of insecurity.
Seek God and keep Jesus in your life to make you happy.
"Blessed is that man that makes the Lord his trust, and looks not to the proud,
nor to those that turn aside to lies." (Psalm 40:4)
If you come to find me
Look no further than you must
For I will be burning effigies
A conspiracy is afoot
Some might say I spend too much time alone
Too much time in the attic of my brain
I have fake conversations with myself
Some might say I spend too much time alone
I think they don’t understand me well enough to know
So call me a mad man.
The axe is buried deep and falls again and again
Wood chips fly as I hew the tree of death
I am working on commission
That’s right the agents are paying me
A coup d’état
To overthrow loneliness
I burn effigies of myself
Some might say I spend too much time alone
Ask me if I care.
Ask me if I can find my way home.
Ask me if the sewage is raw in my veins.
Ask me if I can crack the code of loneliness.
I dare you to ask me.
Some might say I spend too much time alone.
I can never have enough time alone.
It spares me the spirit of life with society.
I burn effigies.
Let the flags and cannonballs fly.
A war upon my soul will not stop me.
I'll ride a pack of dogs into the teeth of the storm
And rain down pain upon your shores
A coup d’état
A coup d’état
Will you finally come and spare me?
I doubt it.
I am not an anomaly
I am free to ramble in loneliness
It burns my flesh, flesh that is hard as gasoline
Underneath the muscle is sinuous and built for pain
Come save me if you must
I am not an anomaly
I just spend too much time alone…
Too Much Technology,
Yet not enough Ecology.
Too much Talking,
And not enough conversation.
Too much planning,
Yet not enough doing.
Too much planting,
And not enough food.
Too many cars,
Yet not enough people.
Too much production,
And not enough consumption.
Too low prices,
Yet not enough quality.
Too much competition,
And not enough co-operation.
Too much of everything,
Yet not enough of anything.
Too much dope,
And not enough hope.
Yet we have had enough reverses,
To know there are enough possibilities,
To negate the oversupply of Procrastinators,
While we still have enough faith in our innovators.
I don't like nasty limericks.
I don't like vulgar words.
I'd rather write of better things,
like maybe watching birds.
So many poets feel the need
to write such graphic things.
The art of poetry to me
is making words that sing.
It's easy to be nasty.
It takes no brain at all.
But I can't keep from wondering
where you get the gall.
My poems may not be 'genius'.
I'm sure they don't compare
to many other writer's work
but mine, I like to share.
No matter if you're ninety
or if you're only nine
you needn't feel ashamed to click
on poetry that's mine.
You talk too much,
You worry and you fret.
You're angry about everything,
I wish that I were deaf.
You just talk, talk, talk, talk,
You talk too much.
You fuss, you cuss, expostulate,
You have no peace of mind.
Seems life for you is misery,
And you're just marking time.
You just talk, talk, talk, talk,
You talk too much.
You talk about religion,
Politics, the law,
The morals of the common man,
And their decline and fall.
You just talk, talk, talk, talk,
You talk too much.
Your conversation doesn't change,
It's always the same.
It's like some foolish little game,
In which the rules are plain.
You just talk, talk, talk, talk,
You talk too much.
You're the one who's always right,
The one who knows the score.
Your opinion of the utmost,
There isn't room for more.
You just talk, talk, talk, talk,
You talk too much.
If I offer up a different view,
You look down and scoff.
I wish there was a switch somewhere,
So I could turn you off.
You just talk, talk, talk, talk,
You talk too much.
When stress about work started showing
He smoked some of what he was growing
Showed up at work
No pants or shirt
Not sure if he was coming or going!
His stress he still managed to be numbing
Even though dismissal was forthcoming
He said, "It's cool man,"
"I'll live in my van,"
As to his boss, his nose he was thumbing!
Honestly lately, there is too much going on
Hurting everyone by those who choose to be a con
There’s too much going on, in so many ways
Weighing on people’s hearts all of these days
Breaking us down, worrying minds, splintering souls
Finding emptiness as the normalcy goes
All wrapped up in this turmoil that rolls
I can say, roll with the punches, but that’s not easy to do
We must face truth, unite and love each other too
We must keep our minds on pleasant things around as well
And be grateful for whatever we have, wherever we dwell
We must have patience with our daily routine
And of course avoid those acting out being mean
Where the light shines, is your place to relish
Never stop hoping and hold onto every single wish
In these times, there is certainly too much going on
But this day we have to live is ours to depend upon
And this day is your day to live, breathe, your day to be
All that makes you who you are, with happiness for others to see
Heidi Sands
5/26/22
shhhh...please don't tell Jan I tattled on her.
Did you hear 'bout Jan's custard a-la-plum
While making it she drank far too much rum
while on her wobbly legs
put mustard in the eggs
It was wretched and tasted like pond scum
Her hubby asked her for a large serving
But the rum made Jan wiggle while swerving
'Twas a messy mishap
She dropped it on his lap
Jan laughed but hubby found it unnerving
He asked why she thought that was so funny
Jan sipped more rum then said, "Sorry, honey"
She sat upon the floor
and drank a few gulps more
then slurred, "It wath a smidgeon too runny"
Empty purses and filled up hearses.
The poor and lonely fade with their curses.
The sun don't shine under the bridge.
The rains came down, washed out the ridge.
Their hope flew out their broken window.
The winds picked up and started to blow.
The last thread of salvation to sew.
Together, any faith that they've come to know.
They are just memories no one remembers.
Fuel for the fire that's now just embers.
Just dirty ash no one should touch.
The truth of life that's just too much.
From this place in time
I can see - only color
and reflections of color
and feel the cameleon nature
of change.
Winter will replace this paradise
scene soon, with whiteness,
grey water, bleached skies,
a monotone to sober thoughts
quell the jubilation and contain.
Life is its own lesson,
and wisdom comes without distraction.
Until all the beauty and the madness
overcomes us once again and we delight in it
completely,
having known pain.
Suzanne Delaney
I did not hesitate for one second.
I am an elementary school counselor.
I get to play with children.
They uplift me, and delight me.
I do my best to stop their tears and get them back to class.
I successfully eliminated twenty-eight jobs before I became a school counselor.
I was forty-four when I received my diploma.
So forty-four when I had my first counseling job.
I loved it, and I love this one.
I love counseling.
I love the kids.
I love teaching character education classes.
Retirement?
Not for this seventy-one year old.
I will go out at ninety-two in a body bag.
I ask only one thing.
Do not tell the children I am dead.
Just slip my body into the bag and leave me in a locked room
Until after school.
Then slip me away quietly.
There will be no funeral.
I don’t want any of them to have any more tears.
Some have had way too many already.
Have situations ever got away from you
evade conclusions while dramas protrude
like a chain link fence no time to think
assess why you're tense or reflect to sync
up events with stress to pull the valve on pressure
just endeavour at pace absent of pleasure
naturally adapt to lessen the impact
while facts not exact and the lesson abstract
taking life in just not learnt
quaking within and mentally burnt
then one intense altercation the only
thing in focus expanding slowly
and nothing else gets noticed
optically trained within the scope
and the rest of the world you take no note
suddenly it's draining all your energy
and events around it just let them be
busy searching every angle like a clock hand
around the clock to brain tangling demand
lurking constant and you assert but weary
astounded half shocked continuously nearly
working it out but for doubt in a muddle
evermore dumb founded increasing struggle
shoulder shrugging as your wonder wanders
from blunder to blunder now going under
where there's no sun it's just dark and dreary
you're torn up inside and teary, now hear me,
HAVE A DAY OFF!!