Long Allergic Poems
Long Allergic Poems. Below are the most popular long Allergic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Allergic poems by poem length and keyword.
Closer that dreaded angel comes,
Nearer my God, to Me.
Family fallen, too near the edge.
I walk in doom for tomorrow.
In crazy and cowardly remote concerns,
You, death, draw a lottery place in line.
Gamble me this, pitiful reaper,
Are you even real?
Within two feet now,
A rattling within my rib cage staggers,
But my brother drank his death,
And my new mother's mind just withered.
Chronically brain is wet and warped,
But I was born into your game.
Allergic to kindness and good works alike,
Death circles my brain, my drain in perpetuum.
Your manufactured trap of vomit and cane,
And sugar plum dreams of gutters and glee,
I dodge you again, but for luck or for timing,
Life leaves daily, per moment of fear.
Seijaku
Trauma tragedy rallies bout’ caucus chaos
Amidst the tumult of life in spite I’m at peace
Daily confusion, babies crying
Refrigerator died, hard wire smoke detector alarming
Ain’t no fire, yet in this noise?
I am blessed to have my hearing
I am not alarmedI AM…
But?
CALM
Was baking grandma’s birthday cake
Had to tend to something outside the house, burnt as little of it
Talked with baby sister, she reminded me of an ingredient G-ma allergic
Computer on pause it has frozen monitor buzzin
Aren’t no understanding everything hectic and scattered
Yet! I am flattered peace am I
I am blessed to have my life, my items working or not
For in my hectic... I am yet still
CALM
I’m blessed, even in my mess, I am
CALM finding tranquility
While enduring, I have chosen to be still at peace in my CALM
Rather than acknowledge my turmoil and traumas
Even in my mess the un peace, my turmoil and confusion I am
Calm
8/13/24
For Seijaku Poetry Contest
Free verse poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Silent One
I sat on my driveway in the rain today,
wondering how I must look to the neighbors.
I'm allergic to grass and don't like dirt,
but I felt a yearning to commune
with nature. The driveway (common concrete)
seemed close enough to rock,
which is just pre-dirt, besides
it was getting drenched in the shower,
just like me.
In other words, I talked myself into this being
the same thing as a trail walk, or river swim,
or climbing like ivy up a groaning tree
because I'm here.
And without me, it makes no sound.
Someone else will have to speak
for those trees though—
right now it's just me and soaked cement
trying not to alarm AJ across the street,
peeking through hand-sewn curtains.
His wife doesn’t work.
He’s an arborist—
which I genuinely just remembered—
so maybe he can chat with the maple
in Renee’s yard next door,
beg it to reconsider its shedding ritual
until my husband fixes the leaf blower.
It may not matter.
The rain’s really coming down now—
there's lightning, which means thunder—
maybe even hail. This whole show
could likely to strip the old gal down
to her rough, brown skeleton.
I stay as long as I can, trying to discern
what I have in common with all of it.
When are you free?
It’s been far too long!
There’s so much to tell you,
did you hear that new song?
When I heard it on the radio, my first thought was you,
I could picture your face and all the actions you’d do
as we screamed the fresh lyrics into the dead of the night,
with not a care in a world; tomorrow was in sight.
Shall we do this weekend?
Oh wait, no we can’t.
How could we forget?
In stone it’s all set
those hours, so cunning - the best wake-up threat.
There’s plates to be spun, far too much to be done;
we must be allergic to fun.
It’s been a busy few weeks yet each day’s been the same
I feel sleep deprived and everything aches.
I’ve been meaning to call,
I’ve been meaning to text,
I can feel time ticking before you click next.
Let’s call tonight, I’ll tell you everything then
we’ll end up laughing with all the jokes that we vend
but the saddest thing is that this never used to end
when was it that time stopped being our friend?
No one’s to blame for what feels like some game
of who’s busier when and why.
Just know that no matter the pain of being away,
for you I’m always going to try.
Hi! My name is Mr. Green
I'm sure you've heard of me... I get around
I just can't go anywhere without being seen
You know, it's amazing how people flock to me
Sometimes I feel like a movie star, people reachin'
and grabbin' just to get a piece of the "G"
Wow! I'd just always thought I was cool, supportive, Lil "G"
But folks out here trying to make me a celebrity
Man! Oh, Man! How did I become the spectacle of
so much confusion—the lies, secrets, greed, violence, and hate
Oftentimes, I feel as if I put the "D" in dissension
I'm down for collaborative and productive work
But I'm allergic to hate, division, and hurt
I mean... caring is sharing, right?
But why do people get at me and hold on so tight?
Seriously, folks will rob, cheat, steal and kill
Brother, sister, father, mother, cousin, friend... I'm for real
I'm made of wood and ink, that's all
My composition is simple and minute
But still, I'm the chief cause of many people's fall
In the distance I hear soft music on the radio.
The air is still and silence holds us
In her arms.
Quiet Sunday morning
Rode past the field where geese rested
Looking from far away
Like a flock of pigeons
In the sun.
See so many different kinds of brick,
Angles of rooftops,buildings haphazardly
Added to before planning laws.
I sit and watch the people pass,
Some happy,one weeping though she assured me
It's merely an allergy;
An allergy to loss?
Yes,I'm allergic to loss.
Loss makes my eyes water and my nose run.
Where does all that water come from?
Pass me your handerchief,mine is a ladies
Since men must work and women weep
Surely we should have the biggest hankies?
Men can wipe their nose on their sleeve
As long as they are not wearing their hearts there!
Or they might consider sharing hankies.
How kind;for at times, almost,
Every one weeps.
A large green iguana fell out of a tree
onto my head.
Ohio has no invasive Iguanas.
I don't smoke anymore.
Right in front of me
a speeding red van killed a woman.
I have developed an allergic reaction
to all kinds of blind spots.
Latterly,
balding eagles have buried their memories
under symbolic windfarms.
Since moving to where I am,
the mail truck arrives far too late
to do anything about it.
I used to leak over sterile tabletops.
Now and again, a thin lifeblood still drains
through systemic digital aqueducts.
Upon a time, I considered following the ways
of an autonomous wildebeest,
no matter,
an habitual herd instinct
led me to drink from only shallow waterholes.
I have reconsidered.
Ever since,
a rung-less ladder gets me high enough
without the use of heel lifts.
I choose my socks carefully.
WELL I NEVER DROVE CALL ME OLD SCHOOL BUT I WAS BORN AT HOME IN BLIZZARD 1963 IN CHICAGO DURING A CIVIL RIGHTS RIOTS SADLY IT WAS DANGEROUS I WENT TO HEADSTART IN DARK SEDANS WITH FOUR GUARDS IN DARK GLASSES IT WASN'T SAFE TO DRIVE I GREW UP IN A ERA WHERE CAR BOMBS IGNITED KINDERGATERS IN CHURCHES KIDS WERE BEING DRAGGED BY POLICE CARS SIRENS FIRE TRUCKS I NEVER FELT THE NEED TO DRIVE I WAS ALWAYS CAR SICK ALLERGIC TO GAS AND FUMES I JUST THOUGHT CAR WERE DIRTY GREASEY I CAN'T HELP IT SO FUNNY I GREW BELIEVING WOMEN SHOULDN'T GET THIER WHITE GLOVES DIRTY PUMPING GAS OR GET WRINKLES FROWNING IN TRAFFIC HONKING HORNS O THOUGHT WERE MEAN YELLING SCREAMING IMPATIENT PEOPLE AS A LITTLE GIRL I MADE UP MY MIND I EOULD NEVER DRIVE BESIDES BACK THEN MEN DROVE SEDANS STATION WAGONS OR THE NEXT BEST THING YELL TAXI AFTER GROWING UP MY ANXIETY JUST WOULDN'T LET ME DRIVE I COULDN'T SEE MYSELF DRIVING SO NO I WOULDN'T BE CAUGHT DEAD DRIVING A CHEAP HYUNDAI FUEL COVERED A HONDA A GAS GUZZLING FORD A SLOW DRIVEN WATERBED CALLED A LINCOLN CONTINENTAL I LOVED THE CADILACS MY FAVORITE WAS THE SEDAN DEVILLE THE COUP DEVILLE WHAT ABOUT THE ELECTRIC 225 HUGE CAR MY UNCLES DROVE THISE ON THE SOUTH SIDE OF CHICAGO WHEN THEY WEREN'T DRIVING ICE CREAM TRUCKS WE WOULD ROLL TO JACK N THE BOX IN GERMANY I ROAD THE STRASAS THE MONORAIL INTO ITALY I ADORE TRAINS I FEEL BLESSED THAT I NEVER DROVE A CAR I CERTAINLY HAVE NO NEED TO START SO PLEASE DON'T THREATEN ME WITH YOUR INITIALS JCBHPADTWNYQ KIND OF STUPID BUT IT IS WHAT IS I LOVE WALKING RIDING MY SCHWINN WITH A BASKET FUMES ARE DREADFUL I LITERALLY HAD TO CARRY BARF BAGS RIDING WITH FATHER GRANDFATHER UNCLES FUMES VETY HARSH WHEN YOU'RE ALLERGIC TO CARBON MONOXIDE I AM BLESSED I HAVE ALWAYS HAD A DRIVER 1963 LINCOLN TORQUOISE ENTERIOR I THANK GOD I WAS WELL PROTECTED FOR RECORD I NEVER KNEW INTITIALS WERE USED TO SIGN DRIVERS LICENSE I THOUGHT INTITIALS WERE FIR INSURANCE DOCUMENTS AND FRAUDULENT DOCUMENTS WOW INTITIALS ON DRIVERS LICENSE OKAY I WILL PASS THAT ON GOOD INFO TO KNOW
‘Twas the night before Christmas
As I was getting ready for my hot date
Putting on sexy lace, hoping he’s not late
Hanging mistletoe and smiling as I wait
I hear his car pull in, he’s now at my door
I hope it’s a fun night, not sure what’s in store
I open the door, as I say, it’s been awhile
He’s dressed like an elf, with a killer smile
I make a joke of his cute elf suit and shoes
He tells me he’s working, not too amused
He’s gives me a snow globe of the North Pole
And says it's a magical place, touches his soul
We move to the couch, enjoying appetizers and wine
But keeps looking at his watch, keeping track of the time
I ask if he needs to leave early, hoping he can stay the night
He says he’s having a great time but must watch for his flight
We walk to the kitchen and stand under the mistletoe
I point up at it expecting a kiss, but instead a loud NO!
His face suddenly beet red as his eyes swell up too
Mistletoe, he is severely allergic to, I had not a clue
He says he will not be able to work with Uncle St. Nick
As he hands me his EpiPen, I give him the shot quick
We suddenly hear a loud bang and crash on my roof
As a man in a red comes down my chimney in a poof
He yells up the chimney to Liza, Fred and Harriet too
He says his reindeer don’t need to get stuck in the flue
I ask about Comet, Prancer and Vixen, to name a few
He says they retired decades ago, his reindeer are new
He sees his nephew, passed out, beet red on my floor
And tells me he needs my help as we head out the door
I stumble as I get into his flashing Christmas sleigh
As his new reindeer all line up ready to lead the way
We are out all night delivering Christmas gifts
Making sure we didn’t miss any on the list
We head back to my home on Christmas day
Where my date has been sleeping the night away
He opens the door, and gives me a huge warm embrace
As he thanks me for saving Christmas with a smile on his face
He tells his Uncle he is planning to stay here another night
And we’ll have our hot date as he winks and hugs me tight
11/23/19
Contest: The Night Before 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
When it is time to come out of lockdown.
Some will be looking for a showdown,
Others will only want the lowdown.
Some will not fit though their doors,
Others will need something to hold up their draws.
Some will come out widows,
Others will have only just sneaked back through windows.
Some will be looking for a joint,
Others will no longer see the point.
Some will be in search of tasty desserts,
Others will get their just desserts.
Some will be mad,
Others will be glad.
Some will have learned to walk,
Others will not want to talk.
Some will feel rich,
Others will think life is a ?
Some will look you up,
Others will remain stuck up.
Some will be kind,
Others out of their mind.
Some will be well read,
Others will be out of bread.
Some will have papered over the cracks,
Others will have not taken off their Mack's.
Some will be allergic to sunlight,
Others will have seen the light.
Some will have beaten the blues,
Others will have run out of clues.
Some will suffer from bed sores,
Others will be heading for distant shores.
Some will look to blame,
Others will have had enough of that game.
Some will come out cooks,
Others will only have their good looks.
Some will be putting out welcome mats,
Others will be still holding bats.
Some will bemoan the cost,
Others happy to see a frost.
Some will have learned to tie knots,
Others will come out in cots.
Some will play fair,
Others will have no hair.
Some will have learned their lesson,
Others will be heading to prison.
Some will get mail,
Others will be in need of bail.
Those coming out of lockdown will have quite a thirst,
If we don't see their feet first.
Those coming out of lockdown alive,
Without exception, will never forget those who supplied honey
to those trapped inside a hive.
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