Long Angrily Poems
Long Angrily Poems. Below are the most popular long Angrily by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Angrily poems by poem length and keyword.
It was a desperate situation,
Regimental honour at stake,
Decision urgently needed
As to what actions to take.
The Colonel was in paroxysms
The RSM was spitting blood
The M.O. was overworked and
Things just weren't looking good.
An outbreak of indiscipline was
Fast spreading through the ranks,
Squaddies dying without permission
Without a by your leave or thanks,
In such sloppy situations which
Caused the C.O. to angrily mention
They didn't even have the courtesy
To die properly lying at attention.
With ruthless Military action
With no thought of pity
Permission to die withdrawn
Without the relevant chitty.
Two weeks notice of intent
Sent with an application
Was now the requirement
To sort out the situation.
Expiring without notice
Became a disciplinary offence
Combined with an appeal
To use their common sense.
Extra duties to be imposed for
Future unauthorised expiration,
The deceased’s unit being held
To blame for the situation.
The system worked a treat
For any squaddie hates
Being held responsible
For letting down his mates.
The situation stabilised
Until finally at length
The regiment returned to
Fully operational strength.
Sanity quickly established
Thanks to the decisions made
And the Colonel and Sergeant Major
Held a celebratory Regimental Parade.
Pardons were quickly issued for those
Who’d died without permission
And the Regiment quickly returned
To its allocated operational mission.
Loneliness is a succession of gloomy, gray winter skies
a bitter wind in your face as you shiver, waiting for an early-morning train
Loneliness is an house without any occupants save you
a holiday to celebrate without a job, or worse, without a family
Loneliness is finding nothing in your email or your snail-mail box
or sending out holiday greetings and getting nothing back in return
Loneliness is eating meal after meal after meal by yourself in the restaurant
or an endless succession of microwave-ready meals in your kitchen at night
Loneliness is listening to the news on the hour every hour
or re-reading the daily paper for the third or fourth time today
Loneliness is being trapped in a body that won't let you walk around the block
or shrieks angrily whenever you have to go up or down the stairs
Loneliness is a feeling that your mere presence is so upsetting to others
that all you want to do is cry and shrink within yourself, because
your Loneliness is the final step on the road to Death
Reflecting within silence of my thoughts
I feel the ills of world in its stygian form--
Its music devoid of the melodic sound
Echoing in humanity’s tenebrous bawl.
On my way I see summer’s rose gardens
And autumnal look of auburn elegance,
But mostly I encounter parched look of life
Like a river dry, in the grip of drought--
A depleted look of empty wine bottle,
Nothing left to offer, devoid of its buzz.
A hidden voice prompts, raising its voice,
Asking what the world would be like
If it could wipe all tears in mothers’ eyes,
And on troubled faces put million smiles
And feed the hungry, gripped in strife.
Peering now into grieved, disquieting lives
It takes me there to war-torn towns—
Pointing to a child wandering empty streets
Orphaned by someone else’s misdeeds
Amid nothingness of abandoned dreams;
Asking me angrily how does one restore
The flame that blazed in desolate child’s eyes
Before they brazenly killed her family…
Can you look in her eyes and explain why?
Can you dare say she’ll have a normal life?
I look for epiphany in epistle of almighty
But stumble in hindrance of the ordinary--
Wicked, narrow views of blatant primacy
Attempting to justify, but failing miserably.
I hear them trumpeting the world as it is
Sounding foolish in the world that could be.
June 23, 2020
Placed 1st: Reflections in silence poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
Open up the Mask Drawer Please
I cackled delight as I opened up my mask drawer.
Naughty Wednesday mask was on top. It had a permanent stamp on it that said “Call in sick.”
Wednesday is the longest day at work, an extra hour every Wednesday.
In the back of my mind, I felt Purple. Purple I kept thinking. I know Sunday’s mask is purple.
I glared at yellow-green mask; distorted, ugly, hideously angry. I tried never to wear my
Angry mask. Nothing shuts children down faster or harder than Angry mask.
Being a school counselor, I know that it’d be better for me to stay home than wear Angry mask.
On a whim I throw it on the floor and began stamping it into the carpet.
My husband comes around the corner and says “Boo.”
So glad I had that can of vegetable soup in my hand. I am in such a rare form mood when I’m
Anywhere near Angry mask. Husband yelps, and wisely retreats,
In a small scared voice I hear him ask, “Where is pink mask?”
“Probably in the washer, because I’ll bet you forgot to DRY it TODAY!” Angry mask and I yell, angrily.
I can hear the pitter patter of a husband’s feet. Hear the dryer open. Happy mask is flung inside the room with us.
Angry mask and I glower at it.
“Come on,” My muse says. “You could try to change your mood.”
You’d think me being a school counselor and teaching children they are in charge of their own moods – changes, swings, etc. I could do this. I struggle to think of my best lesson for changing attitude. Aha!
Now I remember. I pull out stop sign. Hold it up to the mirror where a mean angry woman is glaring at me. God, she’s old! Much older than I ever think I am.
“STOP!” the reflection and I yell. “STOP! Your mood is up to you. You can be mad for a week, a day, an hour, or….” A buzzer goes off. Time to get up. I run over and slam the alarm clock into the floor hard,
Breaking off every piece I can.
“STOP!” the stop sign in my head yells. “STOP! STOP! STOP!”
I am taking a hammer to it now.
I really have to get off the steroids.
Too bad my choice is between breathing or sleeping.
And yes, Mom, I have NOT slept in 5 days, and do you want to fight me, really?
You are 84 years old, and I know you can take me out as well as you put me in….
Damn steroids.
I’d best go back to the doctor today.
I love my job, and I certainly
Don’t want medication to
Make me lose it.
I reach for Pink Mask.
Can't run out into the world around you
It's all ashes now
Can't hide from those things that confound you
Our sins will consume us all
Where's the finger pointing at now
One flick of the hand like dominoes we all fall
One by one under inspection
The skeletons in our closets exposed
How could she ever go out wearing those clothes?..You ever heard of self respect?..Words are weapons can't you feel those angrily typing fingers wrapping ever so tightly around your neck
There's no more room to breathe in social media comment sections
Losing sight of humanity
Surrounded by lack of compassion, aggression and lack of empathy
By day she's a math teacher, at night judge, jury and executioner
We're cruel creatures we've invented a million ways to hurt someone
No need for torches we got memes that will light you on fire
Modern mobs
The thirst for blood never expires
Never ending until you've made sure someone feels as broken as you
The wind is having a tantrum.
It whines and screams and
Howls around the house,
Tearing at the shingles,
Whacking the roof with branches,
Blowing porch chairs into a corner,
A loose cushion into a puddle
On the next block over.
It throws the recycle bin
Into the raspberry bushes
So cans and bottles litter the yard.
It sends trash can covers
Skittering across the road
To land against the fence.
It snaps tree limbs like pick-up sticks
And angrily summons the rain
To slash against the windows
With little icy pellets and
Drive water in under the sill
To form a puddle on the floor.
Probably tomorrow it will clear,
And we’ll all go outside
To clean up the debris.
But the mischievous, childish wind
Will have the last laugh -
Because who can punish the wind
For the mess it made!
Cigarettes and Loose Change
by Edmund Siejka
On a late afternoon
There was a stillness
When nothing seemed to move.
Listless and sort of down
I knew a bar
Squeezed in between non- descript buildings.
Hesitating I stood outside
Searching the gray lifeless windows
When the bar’s neon light
Beckoned.
Behind the dark oak bar
She was taking inventory
Fingers lightly
Touching each bottle of
Bottom shelf
Bar brands
Behind me on the walls
Were photos of the old time fighters
From the time before I was born
I ordered the house Bourbon
Grimacing, I felt it burning down.
Then I asked
Last time we spoke
You said you might be heading out?
I was she said
Still leaving?
She answered,
Maybe.
It could be any day now.
I quietly sipped my drink
At the far end of the bar
Shadows moved
Narrow eyes
Pretending not to see.
Leaning forward she whispered
The owner lets them
Hang out in the back
Smoking cigarettes and carrying on
They’re OK
But take my advice
Don’t leave any loose change on the bar.
Staring into her eyes
I found himself
Wishing that I knew more of her
There was something about the way she moved
That made me forget where I was.
Soon, I only had
A few crumpled bills
Left in my jeans
Leaving a tip on the bar
I pushed my stool back
The scraping sound
Made her turn around
Her hazel eyes meeting mine
And for a solitary heart beat
We were one.
Suddenly there was the sound of broken glass
Angrily she went to the back
Alone, I knew the moment
We had
Was somehow taken away from me
And I didn’t have the courage
To convince a pretty girl to stay.
Scattered plastic battles
and yesterday's newspapers
weren't tossed by a capricious wind,
blame this on the capers of careless humans.
I angrily watch them dispose of them where they sit....
on the seats of buses and trains as they stand up and rush out;
cities have their problems and littering increases abuse...
would anyone thinking of some kind of haven, do that with intent?
In my neighborhood I often observe a Chinese man picking up
Pepsi bottles and newspapers while cars ignore him and speed up...
doesn't he teach us to be neat, to clean after ourselves and be good people?
Many couldn't give a damn, leaving rubbish everywhere for the sanitation to pick up.
You have heard my allegory...did it offend?
Have you experienced it and really gotten you mad?
Who would walk at night, stepping on strewn trash, and fear the ugly rodents?
It's a social plague we can't cure, unless we clean up our act and try to make amends.
Mother Earth, she weeps, but her tears are all in vain.
Men who seek profit and power will never feel guilt or shame.
What is happening to our world? Wake up and see what we have done.
The pollution that fills our air is now blocking out the sun.
We carelessly chop down our trees at such an alarming rate.
Nothing left to purify our air; is our existence left to fate?
Who will pollinate our plants when we kill off all the bees?
What will be left of our oceans when we contaminate all our seas?
Majestic animals that share our world, men track them down to kill,
Not for any particular purpose, they hunt them for the thrill.
Beautiful beasts that once roamed our lands free,
Reduced to decomposing carcasses hunted for a fee.
Our marine life is being poisoned by all our toxic waste.
Plastics dumped in mass for all our fish to taste.
Mountains of our garbage, in our oceans we do store,
Then watch in silence as the blood-drenched waves break angrily on the shore,
And with it, all the decaying corpses from once an abundant sea of the living,
A sea that kept us fed, a sea that kept on giving.
Without all these things, we cannot survive.
Each link has a purpose in the circle of life, and they keep us alive.
Our planet is our mother; we live in her womb.
She provides for all life; let's not make her our tomb.
ENOUGH!
I felt deaf from the ‘noise’ of information,
constantly butting, buzzing against my mantra of:
“The quieter you are… the more you… hear!”
At present, my lifestyle felt media manipulated:
tv, radio, newspaper, mobile, computer.. ad infinitum!
Besieged by endless emails, monopolizing mobiles,
beset by frenzied yaps from apps!
Enough is enough is….. ENOUGH,
I have to escape from the unrelenting hullabaloo.
Can the human brain endure so much information
and who am I, an individual thinker or group dancer?
However, relief sat just around the corner
as next morning I boarded the flight to Reykjavik.
A three-hour taxi journey with a taciturn islander,
people and communication diminishing by the mile
until finally a twig of a boat out to Ellidaey Island.
Boating and bobbing towards the uninhabited …hideaway,
an isolated jigsaw piece of land
off the southern coast of Iceland,
I appraise a small-boned building clinging to its side
with ‘RIDICULOUS’ scribbled all over it.
Someone had said Iceland was a niceland
where you could float free, peace and tranquillity!
But someone hadn’t warned me about…Mr Loneliness
Who was soon tapping me sharply on the shoulder.
So here I sit, three days into my week’s stay
in the island’s lodge, dubbed the world’s loneliest house,
where the only neighbours are passing ships and puffing puffins.
No internet, no tv, no electricity, no running nor strolling.. water
just remote, alone and contemplating my countenance
while wondering if God is lonely too!
Suddenly, clouds bump and bruise against each other
as they race away before the darkness snarls in.
Soon, night has sent in its stormtroopers
who land and splinter into shadow groups
while wind angrily sprints up to the house
bombing it with blockbuster punches.
Then rain happily joins in, machine-gunning the house
until the building begins to stagger and stumble.
I check my face and it is still in the same place
but I sit timorously trembling, tyrannised and terrified
while my eyes follow the house’s dimly lit path
as it wags its tail to the cliff’s edge
and jumps into the void of darkness.
But this poem is a broken wrist, with a twist,
as suddenly, my bones brittle and inside myself…..I faint!
What possibly could happen now?
But there it is..
the knock at the front door!
Ian Souter