Long Annoyingly Poems
Long Annoyingly Poems. Below are the most popular long Annoyingly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Annoyingly poems by poem length and keyword.
It is always ok to mess things up when you are not in a good mood.
You can definitely behave like a child and it does not make you rude.
Occasionally we may need a tight hug when we feel upset,low and sad.
It's the child inside us who needs the warmth and wanting it is not bad.
Once in a while you can jump in a puddle and splash water all around.
Make faces for no reason and want to annoyingly just frown.
You may want to scream at the top of your voice and then burst out crying.
Fail multiple times while doing a task but still not stop trying.
Love and adore a person who has never done anything good to you.
Wanted to fly and get your work done when standing in a long queue.
It makes you no less qualified to behave like a child sometimes.
It rather makes you feel positive and happy in hard times.
Thanks & Regards,
Shivani
A bright afternoon lunch, a darker shadow wraps around
your leg. Not clawing, just yawning. Yearning for a twitch
in its way.
You sit terribly still.
Your mother urges you to shoo it off, your father chews
absentmindedly at the way too bloodied meat, gazing through
your forehead. The clinks of the neighboring tables annoyingly
in sync. Your foot turns to face it.
The waiter gets your sister's order wrong, she curls up to a ball
as so does her stomach as she pipes down the vanilla milkshake,
an excuse to leave to the bathroom. To leave here.
The edge of your eyes catches the figure 8 being woven
along your cramping shins.
The heavy grimace of your brother, your mother fixing up
his collar, clearly not ironed. The setting bores you,
you look under. Beady eyes staring at you too. A plea
for what you should do.
The sinful act of feeding a noir stray cat.
With the steady grip of a football player, a knowing smirk
a bright eye glint, you hold it close,
the pitch-dark abomination–
and toss it onto the table.
An approving purr.
A feast for all.
I turn off damn ringer,
nonetheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls
digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English
differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape
gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench
get catapulted into
outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
oh... , yes even after life,
while weightlessly
pinwheeling in limbo,
particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...
yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal
spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author
instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly,
egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly
vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)
sundering coalescence
regarding colonizing black screen
aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,
thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams.
Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living persons
purely coincidental!
Frustration a feeling that's like friction,
Such a feeling of constricting conviction,
There is no way of avoiding its restriction,
This results in you feeling such damnation,
Frustration, the emotion completely domineers,
Suddenly angry tears begin to appear,
Motivation seems to disappear,
Sometimes it's not clear why it is here,
Frustration, you become annoyed, at how its so annoyingly annoying,
The anger builds tears flowing, red face glowing,
You try your best avoiding spoiling being disappointing,
You battle yourself twoing and frowing bullying mentally torturing,
Frustration, your unable to progress unable to grasp at success,
Your emotions become suppressed because you are so depressed,
Your unable to express emotion, you feel utterly useless,
The definition of frustration is frustrating,
Talks of annoyance defeat sounds exasperating,
Prevention of fulfilling some what thwarting,
Frustration a negative feeling that needs avoiding,
But despite my best efforts it just keeps reoccurring.
They say a picture Is worth a 1000 words,
Yet the realisation that all I have left are pictures
Actually Renderes me speechless
Apparently the adage is actually meant that complex and sometimes multiple ideas can be conveyed by a single still image, which conveys its meaning or essence more effectively than a mere verbal description.
And I have to agree that a picture does convey more meaning or essence than a mere verbal description,
However, a picture does not capture your inner essence or uncover ones hidden encryptions,
You cannot smell that personal scent we each have through a still image,
It doesn't talk to me like you did, or laugh with me, or at me, I can't hear your voice through a still image,
It doesn't capture a true unprovoked instructed smile like you smiled,
It doesn't capture the little annoyingly annoying things you'd do,
That only now I truly miss,
A picture isn't the same as walking in and you being right there in front of me in the flesh,
A picture doesn't even come close to that in comparison actually,
It may be worth 1000 words, but I'd give up those words or any picture,
To have you back here even just for an hour or a half or even a minute or two,
Just so I could say thank you, for being the very best you could be, and doing the best you could do,
I'd say all the things that were never said so stupidly because of pride and ego, although it seems so ignorant now,
Id tell you how much I loved you, something I never said enough,
I'd say it all before, it was to late to say it at all,
And I'd snap just one last selfie of us together, because I never even noticed that I've only 1 picture of you and I together,
And now it's to late to take anymore.
But if I could I'd snap on more shot
Because I would no,
That eventually you'd still have to leave again and go,
But at least I'd have my picture that is worth 1000 words,
I wonder how it would read
Would it be about you or me, or maybe even just the scenary?
Or would it be about when you came down from heaven to visit me,
And left me a picture worth 1000 words to tell the story.
it is one of those placid docile what-do-we-do April days.
I sit outside naked except for my light polyester mumu.
an airplane wakes the cloud with her powerful engine noises.
my wind chimes tingle a mirthful melody.
Sophie, my cocker spaniel sits behind me, she is an inside dog.
Buddy, our husky mix trots a giant six pound bone around in his mouth.
there is a car on Kansas Avenue, we cannot see it, but we hear it.
nothing else is moving until I spy a blue jay landing on a branch.
so light in hue, that he could be an arctic jay, he is the lightest gray.
annoyingly loud muscle car can be heard in the distance, tearing up a street.
roosters behind me begin to crow, even though it is noon.
melodic chimes heighten their melody as today’s breeze picks up.
trilling of birds gives me a reassuring thought of God in the yard.
behind me I hear the purr of our porch refrigerator.
if there has ever been a calmer day, I was not aware of it.
someone revs a car engine far off in the distance.
old man or boy, I think, or old lady in a mumu. This makes me smile.
Green was the colour of your shirt at school park,
Where we used to fly and run and sit at,
Cyan was the colour of the hero of the Marvels,
Whose name I used to annoyingly call.
Isn't it just so preety to think,
All along there was some
INVISIBLE STRINGS,
Tying you to me.
Red was the anger of the boy of our class,
Whom we used to laugh at,
And whom we admire.
Cool was the lyric of the song of that film,
Which we chose chemistery class to sing at,
You said I sound like a american singer.
Time ,
Mystical time,
Cutting me open and healing me fine,
Were there clues??
I didn't see...
But isn't it just so preety to think,
All along there was some
INVISIBLE STRINGS,
Tying you to me....
Poetry Contest:Charm Me
Cycling through Meadowway with my chum,
A man with a receding hairline & greying remnants of his locks wearing a blue jumper
Appears round the corner. I wonder, to what percentage of onlookers around here would he just be a stranger?
Many men have greying hair which they are losing and wear blue jumpers,
But this was so clearly a Jason hairline & a Jason jumper.
I remember his cheerful face I think of every time I watch a Justin Guitar tutorial
And how he accidentally stole my pencil in a maths lesson,
His "see me" in my exercise book that I simply ignored,
And that parents’ evening where he asked me to step out of the room as he spoke to my dad solo.
I remember the residential trip where he didn’t like us banging on the outdoor drum
Or using as podiums ancient tree trunks ?
Come on Mr Coe, let us have a break, I thought
From us desperately trying to understand the things that you have us taught.
One morning, I think the first of Year Five, in my Learning Journal,
I crossed out in his note every Tesni, her, hers and she
Replacing them with Terry, him, his and he.
I didn’t think that Mr Coe would see.
But he did. He asked me why, I said I didn’t know. I just knew there was a reason,
But I wanted it to go.
In front of the whole class, he said how this nine-year-old girl Tesni has a gift
For creative writing.
I remember being shown these radical Google features
And I sent Jason a presentation on planets that I made just for fun.
Mad Villains Everywhere Must Just Stop Using New Pencils.
I wonder if he still has mine from that maths lesson.
I remember his irritating version of rounders
Where you couldn’t sit down once you were out.
I remember somehow getting into a cross country event and coming thirty seventh.
Now I tell people it was out of sixty but annoyingly still haven’t found out.
I wonder, if I stopped Jason walking on and asked him, would he?
Would he remember me?
But I have counselling in five minutes, so have to walk on like a stranger
Without all these memories.
Take this pain
Let it drain
Cant stand this rain
Its blood stained red
This heart beats
Draws near
To the end i wait
I pray for time
I search for balance
As a pendulum of chaos swings
Hurt runs deep and strong
It takes a piece of me every second of everyday.
I hear life's clock annoyingly ticking down
To my final show down
The hour i give in
The minute i try to change
A foot of disappointment in my ass
Living life was a hot mess
But in the end it wont bend
It will take all i have just to stand
And reach for that light even though it has always been dark
I feel i will finally be accepted as ME.
I hope.
You trickle through my mind like a meandering stream.
You infiltrate my normality and drip, drip, drip annoyingly
into my totality like a tap in need of a washer.
Thoughts of you tug at my nuerological pathways,
butting in, interrupting constantly throughout the day.
Flashes of your words perforate mine - I say what you would say.
Yet I don't really know you - you were a glimpse,
a spectre phantom ghost:- when I turned to look you'd gone
and I'm plunged headlong, on free-fall into confusion.
My mind buzzes, frenzied with manic thoughts of you.
You are seeping, creeping like a pool of molten lava
down the mountainous pathway that is my reality.
I retrace my steps half-hoping that I'll find you
but scared in case I do. Looking with semi-blinkered eyes
into crowds of milling strangers, perhaps they're looking too
for a glorious illusion, an escape from the mundane.
I walk, I run through crowded streets, see shops of discontent,
I find vendors selling fantasy, and there you are again.